And then his head moved in an almost imperceptible nod, as if he’d been checking up on her and affirmed she was doing his bidding by resting and drawing. She slid her eyes away from the window, a curl of resentment forming a knot in her stomach. He’s a doctor, I should cut him some slack. Maybe she would if she hadn’t been forced to endure another doctor’s insufferable dictates for weeks. Mitchell’s tendency to order instead of ask might stem from medical concern, but she didn’t care. The part of her that still trembled whenever she thought of Brad’s retribution when she didn’t meet his demands insisted she retaliate.
With no thought in mind except to venture outside in a small show of rebellion, Lillian tried not to think about her aching face and ribs as she tugged on her boots after Mitchell moved away from the window. Snatching her coat off the rack, she buttoned up and pulled on her gloves, figuring she wouldn’t mind if the cold air numbed her face. Opening the door, she shielded her eyes against the glare of bright sunshine bouncing off a field of winter white.
The sound of an ax cutting through wood resonated from around the side and Lillian trudged through several feet of snow to spy on her host, admiring the glistening icicles dangling from frozen tree limbs. Peeking around the corner, she spotted Mitchell, now coatless, lifting an ax above his head and bringing it down in the center of a propped-up log, his strong swing splitting the wood in two. Okay, he is worth staring at, she admitted as his shoulder and back muscles bunched under the brown flannel shirt. Snug jeans emphasized the clench of taut buttocks as he replaced the split pieces with another hefty log. He was just as eye-catching now as last night when she’d seen his naked body silhouetted by the glowing fire. She might have been groggy with lingering exhaustion, but she’d been awake enough to appreciate the mouthwatering, pussy spasming view.
Lillian shook her head, admitting he was right; her thoughts about him jumped back and forth as much as his treatment of her. For two days, ever since she’d fled Brad’s house, got in her car and just drove, she’d been operating on remote control. She still had no destination in mind for when she left here and didn’t want to think ahead to the bleak future without Liana. Living for the moment was all she cared to do right now, and the sudden urge to have some fun with the good doctor took hold.
Squatting down, she scooped up a wad of snow and formed a snowball, intent on showing Mitchell she was perfectly capable of deciding how much rest or inactivity she could handle. She was bruised and sore, nothing she didn’t have experience with even if this was the first time Brad had unleashed such uncontrolled anger on her and aimed for her ribs and face. She hoped the gash on his head she’d inflicted pained him as much as what she suffered.
Taking aim, she let loose with the snowball, wincing at the pull around her upper torso. The extra discomfort was worth it when Mitchell spun around in surprise and glared at her.
“Knock it off, Lillian,” he growled as she scooped up another wad of snow in her gloved hands. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I don’t need to rest. I slept twelve hours between yesterday and this morning.” She shivered as he fisted his hands on those lean hips and his hazel eyes darkened to almost solid brown. She was learning to detect his mood by the color of his eyes and that look was becoming familiar, as was her heated response to his deep, demanding tone.
“I think I’m better qualified to know what you need to do. Now put that down and get back inside,” he ordered.
Oh, no, neither that dictate nor her body’s strange reaction was acceptable, leaving her only one way to retaliate. “Tsk, tsk, Doc, you’re getting bossy again.” Lobbing the snowball, she hit him in the chest. The disbelief on his face was comical until he came toward her with stealthy purpose.
Sparring with Mitchell helped keep her mind off her plight better than anything else thus far. Laughing, she held out a hand, as if that would hold him back. “You have to be nice, I’m hurt, remember?”
“You just said you were fine,” he reminded her in a voice soft as silk, moving through the knee-high pileup much faster and easier than she.
Lillian backed away with a shiver, her pulse leaping as he closed the distance between them before she could reach the door. In her clumsy haste, she lost her footing and went down, the snow softening her fall but chilling her to the bone as the back of her bare head dampened. Mitchell came down on top of her, bracing on his arms, a small grin replacing the stern slash of his mouth.
“Serves you right for disobeying me.”
Lillian’s breath stalled and her heart thudded against her chest as Mitchell’s face looming above her blurred into Brad’s, his words hurling her back to the last time Brad’s threats forced her to endure his possession. For a few seconds, the same sense of humiliation, throat-tightening despair and white-hot fury clouded her mind. Refusing to give in to the panicked distress threatening her composure, she snapped back as quickly as she’d tumbled down that rabbit hole, Mitchell’s whiplash voice helping her to refocus on the present.
“Lillian!”
Getting to his feet, Mitchell throttled back his volatile reaction to seeing Lillian’s face go chalk-white and her eyes glaze with such a look of torment he could feel her distress. She rallied as fast as she’d shaken him with the knowledge that bastard had done more than strike her. She started to get up and he held out his hand. “Give me your hand.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Damn it.” Grasping her arms, he lifted her up, his efforts earning him a glare out of those dark eyes. “Yes, you do, whether you want to admit it or not.” As much as her intrusion on his privacy frustrated him, he once again found himself admiring her gumption as she shoved back whatever memory he’d triggered that had wiped the mirth off her face.
Lillian pulled away and he released her, his own thoughts as jumbled as hers appeared to be. Mitchell didn’t want to involve himself in whatever trouble she was running from but couldn’t deny the desire to see her face infused with pleasure just once before they went their separate ways. It wouldn’t change the harm done to her, but it sure as hell would make him feel better, and her too for a short time.
“I think I’ll listen to you and get back inside.”
With some difficulty, he refrained from telling her to sit in front of the fire until her hair dried. “I’ll be in shortly.” He waited until the door closed behind her to retrieve his coat and gather up an armful of chopped wood.
Mitchell had been reminiscing about the long weekends he and Abbie had enjoyed at their mountain cabin back in Colorado when Lillian startled him with that first snowball. The unexpected cold splat jerked him back from the heated memory of restraining his naked wife to a tree one summer afternoon in the secluded copse of their private retreat and the way her soft cries would echo on the fresh mountain air. Lillian’s amused defiance when he’d ordered her to stop and go back inside had shaken loose his ire, the impish look on her face and sparking in her eyes preferable to the desolation, pain or simmering anger she’d been portraying.
Too bad his attempt to playfully show her who held the upper hand had triggered a memory that wiped off her engaging smile. He craved five minutes with the man who had tormented her, the strangling tentacles of his rage on her behalf unlike anything he’d experienced before. The cases of abuse that had come through the trauma center in Denver had stirred his pity and anger, but Lillian’s grit and determination in the wake of her trauma punched both those emotions up a notch. Considering that, he thought it was a good thing they would go their separate ways tomorrow.