Strong, Hot Winds

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Strong, Hot Winds Page 14

by Iris Johansen


  “Why?”

  She was silent a moment. This was the hard part. This was commitment without a safety net. “I want to hedge and evade,” she said honestly. “I don’t want to tell you this.” She drew a deep breath and rushed on. “I love you.”

  He froze and then his lips curved cynically. “What wonderful things have I done to earn this sudden burst of affection? You ran away from me three days ago.”

  Oh, Lord, he didn’t believe she was telling the truth, Cory thought desperately. “I panicked. You crowded me. You made me doubt my own strength. That’s always been my worst nightmare, to meet someone with the strength to dominate me and I wouldn’t be strong enough to hold my own. There were so many years when I was growing up that I wondered if I’d ever be able to withstand …” She trailed off as she met his gaze.

  His face was expressionless, his stance rigid. She had to break through to him, she thought despairingly. “Did you ever wonder why I kept Michael? With a career like mine it would have been easier to put him out for adoption, but there was no question that I’d ever let him go from the moment I knew I’d conceived him.”

  “You love children.”

  “I love them, but I’ve never thought of myself as particularly maternal. But I knew I’d love Michael. I knew I had to have him with me.” Her voice lowered to a level above a whisper. “Because I couldn’t allow myself to have you in my life, and Michael was your son. In a way it would be like having part of you with none of the threat.” She paused. “I think I must have known even then that I loved you.”

  “I don’t want to hear this,” he said hoarsely.

  “Well, you’re going to hear it.” She took a step closer and grasped his arms. “Listen to me, do you think this is easy for—”

  “Don’t touch me,” he said through his teeth. “For God’s sake, keep your hands off me.”

  She could feel the muscles of his forearms bunch beneath her palms, and she looked up into his face in surprise. “Damon …” His face was no longer expressionless, it was a mask of suffering. “I have to go on. This means too much to me. Do you think it’s easy to ask you to marry me when you may want me only because I’m the mother of your son and you think it’s so bloody sensible? You’ve never said you felt anything for me besides lust. Maybe you’ll never tell me you love me.” She gazed at him fiercely. “But you can bet I’ll do everything I can to make you love me if it takes the next fifty years. There’s nothing I won’t—”

  “I’ve always loved you.”

  She went still. “What?”

  “From the first moment I saw you at that trade exposition,” Damon said simply. “You were interviewing that Japanese auto mogul and I just stood there looking at you, listening to you, watching the expressions on your face. You sparkled like clear life-giving water.” He paused. “And I knew that I wanted to look at nothing else for the rest of my life.”

  She gazed at him in bewilderment. “But you never gave me a hint.”

  He smiled sadly. “I’m not stupid. I realized right away that you wanted an affair, not a commitment, so I gave you what you wanted from me.” He paused. “I hoped you’d eventually decide you wanted something else from me as well. But you never did. Instead, you ran away and cut me out of your life.”

  “And you promptly cut me out of yours.”

  “I’m not without pride,” he said fiercely. “Since you didn’t want me, I convinced myself I’d never really wanted you either.” He looked down at her hands on his arms. “Let me go.”

  She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. Joy and regret were exploding through her. They had wasted so many years they might have had together. They must not waste any more. “I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

  He jerked away from her, turned, and strode toward the entrance of the tent.

  She was losing him, she thought frantically. If he went through that door, she might never see him again.

  “Damon!”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing rigid, her eyes blazing at him across the room.

  “You come back to me.”

  He started to shake his head, then stopped as she punched her index finger at him. “Come back here.”

  He blinked in surprise.

  She deliberately held up her right hand and snapped her fingers. “Right now.”

  An expression of shocked outrage crossed his features.

  “Justice,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Balance.”

  She snapped her fingers again.

  The outrage faded from Damon’s face and he slowly turned and walked back toward her. “I guess you deserve your pound of flesh.”

  “I want more than a pound. I want all of you and I’ll do my damnedest to get it.” She grimaced in distaste. “But never again like this. Someday when you’re at your most autocratic, I may look back on this with some kind of pleasure, but at the moment I find it hard to believe. No more finger snapping for either of us. I did it only because I couldn’t think of any other way to stop you.”

  “You don’t understand, Cory, I can’t—”

  “You can.” Her eyes were suddenly glittering with tears. “And I do understand. It took me a little while, but I finally figured it out. I knew you wanted me. I knew you loved Michael, so it didn’t make any sense that you wouldn’t want to start again. At first I thought it was guilt, but then I realized that was really only the smallest part of it. You see too clearly not to realize the accident wasn’t your fault. It had to be something else.” She took a step closer and cradled his cheeks in her hands. She felt him tense, a shudder ran through his body. “It’s because you’re the Bardono.”

  He didn’t answer, his eyes gazing at her in desperation.

  “It’s because of that damn training of yours. You have to be just, you have to be fair. If you cause pain or injury, you have to be punished. You knew you’d been responsible for upsetting me that night, and you decided somewhere in that convoluted psyche of yours that you had to be punished for my accident too.”

  The tears that had been brimming were suddenly rolling down her cheeks. “But can’t you see? You’re punishing me and Michael also. I don’t want to be sent back to this wonderful independent life you have mapped out for me. I can map my own life, thank you. And I know you’d never crush my independence. Every time you’d try, that balance scale you have inside you would send off alarms and I’d probably have to forcibly restrain you from donning a hair shirt.”

  “Don’t cry.” His voice was muffled. He turned his head and his lips pressed against her palm. “Please, don’t cry.”

  “Then listen to me.” She tried to steady her voice. “And love me. Please love me, Damon.”

  There was silence in the tent.

  His lids lowered to veil his eyes. “It wouldn’t be an easy life for you.”

  Hope leapt within her. “Life is what you make it.”

  “I wouldn’t want to let you out of my sight. I’d try but I’ll always worry about the Koenigs and be jealous of everything that takes you away from me.”

  “We can work it out. I’ve found a few possessive bones in my body, too, lately.”

  “The El Zabor are a big part of my life. I can’t give them up.”

  “I know that, Damon.” She gazed at him with loving exasperation. He was doing it again, laying all the disadvantages before her with scrupulous fairness so that she could make a decision. “I wouldn’t want you to give up anything or anyone you love. I’ll take on your El Zabor just as you’ll have to accept my career.” She made a face. “As long as I don’t have to wear this blasted robe when I travel with you in the desert.”

  He lifted his gaze to reveal eyes that were suddenly sparkling with mischief. “No problem. I’d rather you wore those pink harem pajamas anyway. They’re much more suitable.”

  “Suitable for your kiran?” she asked dryly.

  “Suitable for my kiran, my kadin.” His hand covered hers and he brought it to the wide, hard plane
of his cheek. “My wife.”

  “Am I to assume I’ve convinced you?” she asked huskily. “You’re a very difficult man, Damon.”

  “I know. Are you sure—”

  “Hush.” Her fingers on his lips quickly silenced him. “I’m sure. I don’t want to have to begin this all over again. Do you suppose you could manage to say something positive?”

  He was holding her with exquisite delicacy, as if she would shatter if he exerted the slightest pressure. “I’m afraid to say anything,” he said in a low voice. “I’m afraid you’ll change your mind. I’m afraid I’ll be alone again.”

  Her arms tightened around him. “No, I’ll never let you be alone. You’ll never get away from me again.”

  His arms suddenly crushed her to him with breathtaking force as he buried his face in her hair. “You promise?”

  He sounded just like Michael, she thought tenderly, boyish and uncertain, reaching out for love. In many ways Damon was a little boy, but he was also the arrogant, sensual man she’d first met, the man who had become her friend here in Kasmara, and lastly the stern, lonely Bardono. He was all those men.

  And she loved every single one of them.

  “I promise,” she said softly.

  BOOKS BY IRIS JOHANSEN

  Sleep No More

  What Doesn’t Kill You

  Bonnie

  Quinn

  Eve

  Chasing the Night

  Eight Days to Live

  Blood Game

  Deadlock

  The Treasure

  Dark Summer

  Quicksand

  Pandora’s Daughter

  Stalemate

  Killer Dreams

  On the Run

  Countdown

  Blind Alley

  Firestorm

  Fatal Tide

  Dead Aim

  No One to Trust

  Body of Lies

  Final Target

  The Search

  The Killing Game

  The Face of Deception

  And Then You Die

  Long After Midnight

  The Ugly Duckling

  Lion’s Bride

  Dark Rider

  The Beloved Scoundrel

  Midnight Warrior

  The Magnificent Rogue

  The Tiger Prince

  The Golden Barbarian

  Reap the Wind

  Storm Winds

  The Wind Dancer

  An Unexpected Song

  Tender Savage

  One Touch of Topaz

  Notorious

  Magnificent Folly

  Strong, Hot Winds

  This Fierce Splendor

  Last Bridge Home

  Everlasting

  Always

  And the Desert Blooms

  A Summer Smile

  Blue Velvet

  White Satin

  Touch the Horizon

  Capture the Rainbow

  The Trustworthy Redhead

  The Golden Valkyrie

  The Bronzed Hawk

  Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea

 

 

 


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