“What?” she asked breathlessly, knowing perfectly well what his answer would be.
“Nighttime,” he murmured. “And you. Cord would be gone and we’d be alone. I had hoped to make the most of what little time we had left.”
“So did I,” she said, smiling, even though the finality of his words hurt.”
“Being hot and grimy and covered with bug bites is hardly conducive to making love, is it?”
Sarah laughed and hid her face against his chest. He smelted of sweat and swamp water and his shirt was still slightly damp.
“I’d settle for just being held through the night,” she whispered.
“You’ve got it,” he said, holding her tighter.
“Tell me about today,” she said. “Tell me what hap- pened and how you’ve remembered your past.”
She lay cradled against him and she could hear the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke.
Hagan nodded toward the cat.
“Actually, Tom is the one who alerted me. Evidently he didn’t take kindly to someone coming up onto his porch and waking him out of a sound sleep. He screamed like a holy terror. It’s a wonder they didn’t shoot him.”
“Oh God, Hagan,” Sarah said. “It scares me even hearing you talk about it.”
“I was already in the workshop, climbing out the back window by the time I heard them crash through the front door. I could hear glass breaking, wood shattering. All the other tight spots I’d been in came back to me in a rush. Kind of like remembering a dream. Except I knew that what I was remembering was real.”
He placed a soft kiss against Sarah’s tousled hair. “I was torn between wanting to get out and wanting to save ev- erything for you. All I could think about was what that place meant to you and how you would feel coming home to it after it was trashed. For one second, I almost didn’t go.”
“Oh, no,” she protested. “I’m glad you did,” she said, turning to face him. “Furniture and a house can be re- placed,” she whispered. “You can’t.”
Hagan shifted his weight and reached into his back pocket.
“I did manage to take one thing with me before I climbed out the window.”
He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her, his eyes quiet and searching as he waited for her to take it from his fingers.
She sat up and spread the crumpled piece of canvas across her lap, staring at it silently for a long moment. It was one of the whimsical pictures she’d done of herself and Joe, holding a child she could only dream of and imagine on canvas.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Hagan.” When she looked up at him, there were tears glittering in her eyes. “This means so much to me. You have no idea.”
“That’s Joe, I take it?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby?” he asked, his voice soft with tenderness.
She wiped her eyes and stared down at the painting. It hardly even seemed real anymore.
“I wanted to. I would have,” she said. “The doctors said the trauma of the accident and Joe’s death caused the miscarriage. It was too early to know if it was a boy or a girl, but somehow I always imagined it was a little girl.” She looked into Hagan’s eyes and saw the tenderness and the understanding. “I was only a few weeks preg- nant…” Her voice, ragged with emotion, caught, then stopped.
Hagan reached for her, pulling her and the canvas back into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “God, baby, I’m so sorry.” He held her for a long time, until she stopped crying.
“I feel guilty as hell, pulling you back into all these emotions that you’ve been trying to forget for the past year. Getting you involved in this stupid agency business. None of it seems very important after what you’ve been through.”
“No,” she said, wiping her eyes and looking up at him. “Don’t you feel guilty about anything. And your work finding this Satilla group is very important. Even if Joe hadn’t been involved in it, I’d think that.”
“I’m going to find them,” Hagan said. He took her face between his hands and looked steadily into her eyes. “I swear to you that no matter what happens, I’m going to find the men who killed your husband and left you with that scar and nothing else except pictures you can only imagine.”
Sarah nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. And as she moved back into his arms, she didn’t trust herself to expect anything else but this.
Just the moment. And the night.
Chapter 14
Sarah woke sometime later, uncertain what time it was or how long she’d been asleep. The candles had long ago sputtered and died and there was a faint light rimming the edge of the blankets at the windows.
Hagan was still sleeping and she lay quietly against him, staring hard to see his profile in the dim light and listening to his quiet, steady breathing. Her back and neck felt stiff, but she didn’t want to move and wake him.
She knew Tom was awake. She could hear him purring and, when something soft rubbed against her hip, she jumped, then muttered softly.
“You silly cat. You scared me.”
Hagan stirred and murmured something in his sleep. Then instantly he was awake, his hand going out to grasp her arm. She was also aware of him reaching for the gun that he’d laid on the table.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s just Tom. I think he wants to go outside. I’m surprised he’s stayed indoors this long. Go back to sleep—I’ll let him out.”
When she came back to the blanket, Hagan pulled her down beside him, flat on the floor now.
“God,” he muttered, moving restlessly against the hard floor. “What I’d give for a shower and your nice soft bed.” His voice was husky and soft with sleep. “The scent of roses in the air…”
His voice drifted off and Sarah smiled into the dark- ness.
Uncomfortable as it was lying on the rough blankets, she loved the feel of his body next to hers. She didn’t know how she’d be able to manage to sleep alone again once his case was finished and he was gone.
“Don’t think about it,” she scolded herself.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing,” she whispered, moving her hand to his chest. “Go back to sleep.”
When they woke it was midmorning. The cabin was still dark because of the covered windows. But the summer sun was up and had turned the interior stifling hot. The air was very still, the kind of stillness that her grandfather always said preceded a storm.
They took turns going outside, and after they’d eaten a sparse breakfast, Hagan paced the floor restlessly.
“I need to get to Cord,” he said. “Somehow I have to let him know where we are and find out what’s going on.”
“We could go back to the house.”
“Too risky,” he said. “They probably have someone watching your place.” He stopped pacing for a moment and ran his hand down his unshaven face.
“I have a friend…Lacy. She could find Cord. I’ve known her since grade school. If I can’t trust her, I can’t trust anyone,” Sarah said.
Hagan bit his lip and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I don’t want to do that. Are there any service stations near your house? Anyplace where there might be a public telephone?”
“Not toward town,” she said. “But to the north, out toward Millwood, there’s a place. It’s quite a hike, more than five miles from the house and even farther from here.”
“How much food’s left in the knapsack?” he asked, nodding toward her bag.
“Not much,” she said. “A couple of cans of juice, the crackers, and maybe two cans of stew. I left too quickly to think about bringing money.”
“It’s all right. This will do for the day,” he said thoughtfully. “If everything goes well, that’s all we’ll need. When it gets late, we’ll start out of here, toward this place you’re talking about. We’ll use the pay phone to try to track down Cord.”
“At least we
won’t need money for that. I know my phone card number,” Sarah said.
“Good. We’ll call after dark. If we’re lucky, maybe by tomorrow you’ll be back in your own house and your own bed.” His eyes darkened as they moved over her features. The look of tiredness on her beautiful face tore guiltily at his heart.
Sarah ignored his remark and his look. How could she tell him that she would give up her comfortable bed, give up her grandparents’ beloved house even, for more nights with him? She didn’t care about the discomfort. All she cared about was being with him.
“Just before I left the house, Cord said he was thinking about calling the agency in on this. He said it was getting too big for him to handle alone,” Sarah said.
“That’s what he always says. But I know him—he’s in- dependent and he hates to admit defeat. He’ll wait as long as he can about doing that. If he can get the proof on his own that the sheriff’s involved, that’s what he’ll do.”
Hagan came to Sarah and knelt beside her.
“Are you up for this hike tonight?” he asked. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m all right,” she said. “But I don’t know what we’ll do with Tom—it’s too far for him.”
“We’ll have to lock him inside.”
“Oh, Hagan…” she whispered, her eyes stricken. “I don’t want to do that. You know how he hates being cooped up.”
“It’s for his own good,” he said. “Sometimes cats like Tom have no idea what’s good for them…or what they really need.”
“Oh?” she asked. “And what do they really need?”
“A dry house and a warm bed to come home to,” he murmured, moving closer. “Someone to love them.”
“I told you, cats don’t know about love,” she said.
“Oh, but I think old Tom here knows,” Hagan said with a slow, knowing smile.
“I…I thought you didn’t believe in love,” she whis- pered.
“I said I didn’t know what love was,” he said. “It’s not something I’ve ever trusted in.”
“But you trust me,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist.
“More than anyone,” he agreed. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her soft breasts flatten against his stomach.
Hagan wanted her. He wanted to make love to her right here and now. Despite the filth of the cabin and despite their sweaty bodies and clothes.
But oddly, he found himself for the first time thinking of someone besides himself. His first concern was for her. He wanted to please her and to have their lovemaking be perfect, and he didn’t want anything to tarnish that.
He could wait. If somehow he could just find a way out of this mess, he could wait. The way he was feeling at this moment, he thought the wait would definitely be worth it.
When this case was over, he had no idea what he was going to do about her. How he was going to leave. But he couldn’t stay. In the back of his mind, he knew he couldn’t risk putting her in danger again. And he wouldn’t expose her to a life where she’d be constantly afraid for him or where she’d always have to live in fear that everything would be taken from her again.
Her life was calm and quiet. As sweet and wholesome as she was. How could he ever expect her to leave such a life for someone like him? A man whose everyday life in- volved the sleaze and filth of the criminal underworld.
He couldn’t. When this was over, everything had to be over. That was the only way it could be. And he had a feeling Sarah knew that as well as he did.
“We’ll leave before dark,” he said, still holding her. “By this time tomorrow, it could all be over. And you can get on with your life, Sarah. And forget all this ever hap- pened.
She held on to him as if he were her lifeline. She buried her face against his chest and closed her eyes. How can I forget it happened? she wanted to cry. Could he really ex- pect her to forget him and all they’d shared so easily?
He pulled away and looked down at her.
“Let’s go outside,” he said. He found it hard to breathe when she was so close. When she looked up at him so trustingly with those deep blue eyes. “Someplace where we can at least see the sun.”
Sarah’s expression changed. Her eyes sparkled and for the first time in days there was a happy, carefree expres- sion on her face.
“I know the exact spot,” she said. “Here, you take the knapsack and I’ll take one of these blankets.” She wrin- kled her nose as she shook out the blanket, then rolled it up and tucked it under her arm. “It’s musty, but it’s bet- ter than sitting on the ground.”
“What are you up to?” he asked, loving the look of happiness on her face.
“You’ll see.”
They walked for more than a mile, with Tom following along behind, meowing to let them know he wasn’t pleased with the day’s outing at all. They pushed their way through brush, stopping now and then for Sarah to point out var- ious things of interest to Hagan.
“This mushroom is actually very good for cooking,” she said, brushing aside leaves and touching the large edible fungus. “Granddad and I used to go on hunting expedi- tions for these. Grandmother’s mushroom sauce was the most wonderful thing you ever tasted.”
Moments later, she stopped, placing her fingers against her lips to signal Hagan’s attention and quiet.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the shadows beneath the green undergrowth and to see what she and Tom were both staring at.
Across a small clearing was a doe with its fawn. The mother’s head was lifted, eyes wide and ears pricked as she sensed their presence. But at her feet, the young deer con- tinued to nuzzle beneath the ground cover in search of tender young grass sprouts.
Tom’s back was arched as he stood perfectly still… waiting.
“Behave yourself, Tom,” Hagan whispered.
Suddenly the doe nudged her baby and bounded away into the thicket, the fawn dose at her heels.
“Weren’t they beautiful?” Sarah asked, her eyes wide and filled with wonder.
“You’re beautiful,” Hagan said.
He loved her grace and compassion. And he loved the way she looked with the dappled sunlight across her nose. But most of all he thought he loved her heart and her goodness…her enthusiasm for the smallest, most simple things in life. It filled him with unexplained joy and hope. That was something that had been missing in his life as long as he could remember.
He kissed her, feeling his body respond as she opened her lips to him and moved tightly against him. The blan- ket dropped from her arms.
Hagan found his resolve weakening. And for the life of him he couldn’t think of one single good reason why he shouldn’t make love to her right then and there. Right on the soft pine needles and swamp moss at their feet.
Sarah laughed up at him, taking his hand and pulling him farther through the woods.
He grumbled a protest, but she only looked at him over her shoulder with a knowing look and a promise in her sparkling eyes.
When they stopped moments later, he understood.
It was the perfect place for lovers.
Hagan thought it looked as if it once had been cleared, but now the trumpet vines and ground cover crept over ancient stumps and fallen trees. Masses of huge green fern grew everywhere, enclosing the area as perfectly as if it had been landscaped for that purpose. But to Hagan the most surprising thing was an oval-shaped pool of onyx water that lay in the middle of the stand of moss-draped trees. Shafts of sunlight filtered through the green leaves, mak- ing lacy patterns against the ground and water.
Sarah watched his face, noting the look of awe and sur- prise. Gently she tugged his hand, pointing out another pool at the side of the larger one. This one was smaller and lined with smooth, flat rocks. Although it blended per- fectly with the natural setting, it was obvious that the mortared pieces of rock had been set by hand.
Hagan frowned and looked at Sarah.
“Whose land is this?”
“Ours,” she said. “My fami
ly’s I mean. Although I guess I’m the only one left to claim it now.”
He shook his head and stepped to the edge of the smaller pool. He knelt down and let his fingers trail through the cool water.
“The water is clear,” he said. “I always thought swamp water was black.”
“The black color comes from the vegetation,” she ex- plained. “But the water is actually clear. It used to be some of the purest in the country, before developers moved in.”
Sarah walked to the other side and began to clear pine needles from the bottom and push aside the vines that threatened to cover the pool.
“Granddad made this for me because he knew how scared I was of water moccasins. It’s large enough for sev- eral people, kind of like a hot tub without the hot,” she said, smiling. “But shallow enough to see the bottom so I wouldn’t be afraid. The water from the larger pool flows through here in a filtered pipe, and out the other side. See,” she said, pointing out the drains.
Hagan nodded and Sarah smiled at his look of disbe- lief.
“It hasn’t been used in ages,” she said.
Hagan looked across the pool into her eyes. He felt as if he were in some primeval forest. He had the whimsical vision of himself as an ancient Seminole chieftain and Sarah as his doe-eyed princess, just waiting for him to reach across the water and take her hand.
“Well?” she asked softly. “Would you like to try it?” She scratched in the vines and uncovered a large piece of white rock, holding it in her hand and offering it to him. “Soapstone…it’s just like soap.”
His answer was to stand up slowly and begin to unbut- ton his shirt. Still watching her eyes, he pulled his arms out of the sleeves, shrugging his shoulders and tossing the shirt onto the ground.
Tom, watching from a nearby tree, immediately pounced on the shirt, pawing it with leashed claws before flopping down onto it and stretching our lazily.
Hagan’s naked chest gleamed in the dappled light that filtered through the dark canopy of trees. There was only the sound of trickling water and bird song in the forest.
For Sarah, the sight of him there in this most ancient of places was enough to take her breath away. He was differ- ent here. Not an agent nor a city man born and bred. But just a man, gloriously beautiful in all his masculinity. Perfectly formed, his skin dark and sleek, his eyes chal- lenging and sure.
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