by Ann Jacobs
"Oh, God." She'd looked over and saw what was left of Cian, and her stomach roiled.
Declan's bullet had entered through his forehead. He'd been dead before he hit the floor. Laura began to shake. She touched her hair, wet with Cian's blood. A sob caught in her throat.
Declan placed his gun on the bureau and came to her. He gathered her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. Then he took her over to the bed and placed her down next to Harry. The boy stared at her, shivering with shock. Laura reached out for him, rocking him in her arms. He began to cry against her chest. Declan placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes imploring. "Love, I'm going down there. They will probably take me away for debriefing, and I won't get a chance to see you again until this is all over. Just remember two things when they question you. One…I broke my cover with you, and you knew from the beginning that I was SAS. That way, they can't arrest you for being an IRA accomplice."
"Slughan!" the commander's voice blared from the bullhorn. "What's going on in there? We heard a shot."
Declan stepped over to the opened window, staying out of the range of fire. "It's Fagan, Colonel," he shouted. "Slughan is dead, and so is his accomplice. Everyone else is safe, including the prince. It's all clear!"
There was a moment of silence, then Bradbury's voice, "Roger. We're coming in."
Declan turned back to Laura. He leaned toward her and his mouth took hers in a bruising kiss. "And the second thing you must remember, Laura," he said softly. "I love you."
Then he turned and left the room. And moments later, she heard his steps pounding down the stairs to meet the SAS operatives coming up.
Chapter Seven
Laura stood on the dock in Dun Laoghaire and watched the ferry churning through the waters of Dublin Bay. A cold gust of wind sent her hair flying around her face, and rain misted down in a soft gray curtain. September was just around the corner, nudging aside the warm days of summer to make way for autumn. Tugging her knit cap down over her ears, Laura glanced at her wristwatch. Five to ten. The ferry was on time.
Her heart slammed inside her chest as she caught sight of a few figures on the deck, braving the cold drizzle. Was one of them Declan? It had been three long weeks since he'd walked out of the flat in Dublin. Moments afterwards, uniformed members of the SAS had rushed into the flat, and taken custody of Prince Harry. She'd barely had a chance to say goodbye before they'd whisked him away.
Half expecting the Brits to take her into custody-because after all, hadn't she been involved in the kidnapping?-she'd waited in the bedroom, trembling, and forcing herself not to look at Cian's corpse. But they didn't arrest her. Apparently, they were satisfied with whatever Declan had told them. Colonel Bradbury, a tall lean man with sunken cheeks had politely informed her that they would be escorting her to a hotel where she'd stay until the flat was released by the crime lab. When she'd asked about Declan, he'd stated that he'd been taken away for debriefing, and would be in touch.
Declan called her at the hotel the following morning. He was in London, he said, and wasn't sure how long they would keep him there. His voice had sounded distracted, tense. He promised he'd be in touch again as soon as possible. She'd hung up the phone with more questions than answers tumbling around in her mind. What was going on there? Why did Declan sound so somber? Had they changed their mind about letting him go free? Hadn't he paid his debt to society by helping them get Slughan?
There had been telephone calls every night, short, unsatisfying ones that answered no questions, but were better than silence. He'd called yesterday, and for the first time, he brought up the future, but his voice had sounded tense, weary.
"I'm arriving in Dun Laoghaire tomorrow. The ten o'clock ferry. But Laura, love, I'll understand if you won't be there to meet me. I've been dishonest with you from the beginning. I used you. But Laura, there's one thing I never lied about. The love I feel for you. That's real. No! Don't say anything. I have something to tell you." He paused, and a tense silence stretched across the telephone line.
"I thought they'd let me go. That I'd help them get Slughan, and then I would be free. But apparently, that's not what's going to happen. They've told me they're keeping me on active duty, and I really have no say in the matter. I want you to really think about what it will be like to have a future with me. I will be undercover, doing dangerous work with dangerous men. We'll have to live a lie. You'll be the wife of an IRA man working undercover for the SAS. It won't be easy. So, I want you to think very hard about it. I'll know your answer if I see you on that dock. If you're not there, I'll understand. Goodnight, love." There was a click as he hung up.
She knew his phone call was meant to put fear into her heart. And perhaps to drive her away. But out of his monologue, one phrase stood out. You'll be the wife of an IRA man working undercover for the SAS. He wanted to marry her! And so, here she was. Waiting for him. There had been no choice, really. She loved him. It was as simple as that. And yes, it scared her to think of the danger he would be in. That she might lose him to violence. But the alternative…to never see him again? That, she couldn't handle.
She caught her breath, as the ferry got closer. There he was! Standing on the deck in a long trench coat, his black hair whipping in the wind. She waved. "Declan!" she called out, even though a gust of wind threw the word back into her face. No way he could hear her.
Tears blinded her eyes. It felt like it had been years since she'd seen him, felt his arms around her. Oh, she couldn't wait to feel his arms around her. She waved again, and this time, she saw his hand leave his coat pocket and wave back. The ferry was still too far away to read his expression.
Minutes ticked by as the ferry maneuvered into the dock. Oh, God, why did this take so long? Finally, a crewmember tossed a huge rope onto the wharf, and it was caught by a dock man. Laura ran down the length of the quay, her eyes on Declan's still figure. She came abreast of him and stopped.
"Declan!" She waved frantically.
She saw him staring down at her, and a gasp caught in her throat. Tears were streaming down his handsome face. But he was smiling. Her heart spasmed. He loved her! This man really, really loved her.
It seemed to take forever before the gangplank was lowered, and passengers began to stream off the ferry single file. Laura stood on the fringes of the crowd, her eyes eagerly searching for Declan. Finally, she saw him walking down the gangplank. She forced her way toward him, and reached the end of the gangplank just as he was stepping off.
"Declan!" She was laughing and crying at the same time.
His blue eyes seared her. His cheeks were still wet from his tears. "Laura, love," he murmured. "I can't believe you're really here."
And then, she was in his arms. His bristled jaw rubbed lovingly against her face as she breathed in his heather-laced male scent. He hugged her tightly and then drew away just enough to cup her face in his hands.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his gaze holding hers. "This is what you want?"
She nodded. "I've wanted you from the first moment I walked into that prison and saw you. Maybe before that. Maybe when I got that photo of you. I love you, Declan. I think we were meant to be."
"Even with this life I'm offering? The secrecy? The deceit? The danger?"
Laura nodded, her hands cupping his face. "Even with all that. I can handle anything…except a life without you."
He closed his eyes and lifted his face heavenward. "I'm blessed," he said. He opened his eyes and gazed at her tenderly. "You've given my life new hope.
With you by my side, I will be a better man." Then his mouth claimed hers in a hot, urgent kiss.
Laura clung to him, returning his kiss with everything she had inside her. She didn't know what their future held. How much time they'd have together. They didn't live in a world of guarantees. But then, who did?
After a long moment, they broke the kiss, but their gazes held. Declan's hand slipped down her arm and his fingers entwined with hers. He smiled at her, and together, they
walked off the quay and headed toward the village of Dun Laoghaire.
* * * * *
The room was in a quaint little bed and breakfast on the waterfront. All romantic lace and Victorian roses. A window seat upholstered in wine-colored satin looked out over the bay. But it was raining so hard that if anyone were peering out, they'd only see gray mist.
No one was looking out.
Laura flattened the palms of her hands on Declan's hair-matted chest and gazed down into his cloudy blue eyes. He was full and hard and blazing hot inside her, but motionless, waiting for her signal. Laura, too, was still, knowing that with the slightest movement, the slightest tremor, she'd shatter. She moved one hand up to his face, traced his eyebrow with the edge of her thumb, then trailed it down to the deep grooves lining his mouth, not with a smile or laughter now, but with tension. He gazed back at her, not speaking. Lowering her face to his, she covered his mouth in a soft, sensual kiss. He moaned, and arched against her, sending an exquisite shimmer of pleasure arrowing through her womb.
His mouth hungrily devoured hers. His shaft bucked inside her, and she knew she couldn't hold this moment any longer. Breaking the kiss, she moved back into a sitting position, positioning her hands on his flat belly. Then, watching him, she began to ride him slowly, rising and falling in rhythm to his sensuous movements.
You see what you've done to me, Declan Fagan? She paused, teetering on the edge of oblivion, waiting, staving off the moment. Her heart hammered. She saw a muscle tense in Declan's jaw as his hands tightened on her waist, holding her still. You see what you've done to me? You've turned me into a passionate, sensual woman. One who believes she's beautiful. Who believes she's worthy of your love.
"Thank you," she whispered.
His eyes burned into hers. Holding her firmly with one hand, he reached up with the other and tenderly brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
"I love you," he murmured.
She sighed, and shifted restlessly, the ache inside her core intensifying. He arched into her, and she gasped. "Yes," she moaned. "Now, Declan."
He nodded, biting his lower lip. And again, she began to move, riding his shaft, and with each plunge, she climbed higher and higher. Their moans rose, became more frenzied, as their bodies performed the ancient ballet of love, until they climaxed together in a shattering earthquake. Laura collapsed onto Declan's heaving chest, her fingers grasping his hair. He clung to her, his hands roving up and down her damp back. She kissed the hollow of his throat, breathing in his intoxicating male scent. Still inside her, his cock spasmed one more time, and he groaned. Then grasping a handful of her hair, he guided her mouth to his, hungrily devouring hers. Afterwards, she slumped against him, her hand cupping his bristled jaw.
"Oh, Dec," she murmured when she could finally speak. "It just keeps getting better and better with you."
His hand moved slowly down the curve of her buttock. "I wish I could crawl completely inside you," he whispered into her ear. "I can't get enough of you."
"I know. It's the same with me."
They fell silent, just content to lie skin-to-skin, heat-to-heat. Finally, Declan spoke again, running a hand up and down her arm in a feathery caress. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my wife. About the operation. I thought it would be better if you didn't know. If your fear for Harry was real. Besides…" his voice trailed away, and he took a deep breath. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to protect him."
"I'm sure," Laura said. "You wouldn't have let Sullivan hurt him. I know that." Her fingers brushed against the mole on his shoulder. "There's one thing I don't understand, though. Remember those times at Bewley's? The way you'd talk about a united Ireland. You were so passionate, so earnest. Yet, you were working for the SAS. Did your wife's death change your beliefs?"
He was silent for a moment, and then she felt his chin move as he shook his head. "I love Ireland," he murmured. "Always will. And I want nothing more than to see my country at peace. I don't believe that will ever happen as long as it's divided. But when the IRA blew up that department store, and Fiona died, all my idealistic dreams died with her. I saw my friends in the IRA for what they really were. Thugs. Monsters. No better than the Muslim terrorists who killed those Israeli athletes in Munich. Or the ones who blow up planes filled with innocents. Wee babies and young children. And I realized that violence would never be the way to achieve peace. That's when I knew I had to offer my services to the SAS to stop the madness."
Laura nuzzled against his shoulder, kissing his mole. "I love you, Declan Fagan. You're an honorable man."
He drew her against him, his lips pressed against her forehead. "I have a lot to make up for. But this was a start."
Laura was just drifting off to sleep when Declan's cell phone rang on the bedside table. Immediately she was wide-awake. Beside her, she felt Declan's body tense. He gave a short, emphatic curse, and then said, "I have to get it, love. It could be my handler."
He rolled over away from her, and Laura felt as if a cold wind had blown into the room. An assignment already? Couldn't they at least give them a few days together before taking him away? She'd known it was going to happen. She'd accepted the reality of her new life with her eyes wide open. But she hadn't expected it to intrude so quickly.
She rolled over on her back and covered her eyes with her arm. Listened to Declan's soft melodic accent as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line.
"Yes, this is Declan Fagan. I'm sorry. Who is this?"
He abruptly rose to a sitting position, his back straightening. He ran a hand through his black hair as he listened to the voice on the other end. Laura moved her arm and looked over at him, her skin prickling. The hair tunneling was a nervous trait of his. What was going on?
"Yes, but…I'm not sure I understand. I was told that…the SAS is in need of my continued service." He paused and listened again. "And it is all cleared with them?" He glanced over at Laura, and she was stunned to see that his eyes were sparkling. Whatever it was, it wasn't bad news, thank God. Declan looked away, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I…I don't know what to say. I'm honored. And of course, I accept. Thank you. I'll wait to hear from you."
He snapped the cell phone shut, and sat there a moment longer as if dazed. Laura trailed a hand up his back. "Honey, what was that all about?"
Slowly, he turned and looked at her. He was still smiling. "You aren't going to believe this, love. I still don't believe it." He shook his head, running his hand through his hair again. Then he reached out and grasped her hand. "Laura, girl, do you know who that was?"
She shook her head. "I can't imagine."
"That was the secretary to the Prince of Wales," he said softly, an expression of bemusement on his handsome face. "He wants me to come on board as Prince Harry's personal bodyguard." His grin widened. "And the SAS have agreed to it. They're letting me go, Laura." As if suddenly realizing the enormity of it, he gave a whoop and rolled over to her, tugging her into his arms. He kissed her, long and hard, and then laughed. "We can go to London, love. Live an ordinary life. You and me. No IRA, no politics, no SAS. Just the two of us. And the prince, of course. He's been asking about you. He can't wait to see 'Miss Laura' again."
Laura cupped Declan's face in her hands, tears erupting in her eyes. "I can't believe this," she whispered. "Can this really be true?"
He nodded. "It is true. Marry me, Laura. Come to London and be my wife. Will you do that, love?"
She caught her breath at the intensity in his blue eyes. "Yes," she said. "Of course I'll marry you, Declan Fagan. But just so you know, if you'd asked me before the phone call, I would've said yes then, too."
"I did ask you, remember? On the phone yesterday."
She grinned. "That was more of a threat, I think."
He laughed, then he bent his head to hers. His mouth closed over hers in a series of long, demanding kisses. And as always, in Declan's arms, tasting his mouth against hers, feelin
g the heat of his maleness branding her, Laura gave herself up to everything he aroused in her.
Also by Ann Jacobs
Love Slave
Love Magic
Firestorm
Look for more titles coming soon from Carroll Mavis-Raine
Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
www.ellorascave.com