Jane Bonander by Warrior Heart Page B

them.”
    Of course, the other man had been Sean, but Libby hadn’t felt it was necessary to burden Dawn with her past.
    “I guess we all have our fears,” Jackson offered.
    Somehow it didn’t make Libby feel better to know that he was aware of her weaknesses. “It’s bedtime, Dawn.”
    Dawn screwed up her face but didn’t argue further. “All right,” she said on a sigh as she rose, lifting the dog into her arms. She skipped toward the door, then stopped. “Will you tell me more stories, Mr. Wolfe?”
    He smiled, and Libby noted that it reached his eyes. That was something no one could fake.
    “It would be my pleasure.”
    Dawn started out the door.
    “Dawn?”
    She stopped but didn’t turn. “Yes, Mama?”
    Libby bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “Why, to bed, like you told me to.” She kept her back to her mother.
    “With Mr. Wolfe’s dog?”
    Dawn turned, emitting an enormous sigh. “But, Mama, I—”
    “The dog doesn’t sleep with you, dear.”
    Air sputtered out through Dawn’s lips. “Oh, all right.” She lifted the dog close to her face and kissed his nose. Libby shuddered and grimaced, unable to understand why anyone would want to kiss a dog.
    “Sorry, Mumser.” Dawn returned the dog to its master and left the room, tossing her mother a crushed look as she passed her.
    Libby stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, suddenly feeling awkward. “It’s kind of you to entertain Dawn. I’m afraid she can be a nuisance at times. She’s at that age, you know.”
    He said nothing for a moment, merely returning her gaze with a pensive one of his own. “She’s not a nuisance. I enjoy her; she’s a good audience.”
    Libby’s resolve was melting fast. How could she possibly resist a man who spoke with such warmth about her daughter?
    “I want to thank you for helping her with her sums.” She smiled. “They’ve been her nemesis. She’s wonderful with words. I mean, she’s quite a poet and she loves to draw and sing. She dances rather than walks most of the time, and I constantly find her doodling when she’s supposed to be studying. I’ve often been tempted to purchase a piano, because I know she’d love to take lessons, but—” She gave him a self-conscious smile. “I’m sorry. I’m blathering, aren’t I?”
    He said nothing, just continued to stare at her with those bright blue eyes. He probably thought she was a bore.
    “Well,” she finally said. “I’ll, ah … if you want, there’s an old bottle of brandy in the sideboard.” She pointed toward the cupboard in the corner. “Help yourself.”
    She scurried to her room but discovered she was too itchy to sleep. She undressed and slipped into her dressing gown, then removed the pins from her hair. With methodical strokes she brushed it, letting her mind wander, for although Sean had been gone for six years, it had been something he’d done for her, and she still didn’t like to do it herself. Though they hadn’t had the perfect marriage by any stretch of the imagination, they’d had their moments.
    And those moments had ended the day Sean’s mount stepped into a gopher hole, crushing his ribs as it fell on top of him.
    A wistfulness spread through her, and she tossed the brush on the vanity and simply sat there, staring into the mirror. Sean. He’d been a good man. Kind. Generous. In more ways than one, he’d given her a freedom she would never have otherwise known. He’d given her far more than she’d ever given him.
    A sadness at her inability to make him happy settled around her heart. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried; she’d simply been too young to know how. How could a fourteen-year-old girl who had been taught nothing possibly know how to please a man? And, she thought, anger surfacing, why should a fourteen-year-old girl have to? It wasn’t until she was older that she realized Sean had a problem with intimacy. Grown men often