by Laura Taylor
She sighed, a little deflated by Hannah’s question. "Not really."
"The man loves you, Geneva, and you obviously love him, so let your heart guide you, not your pride."
With Hannah’s advice echoing in her head, Geneva left the sitting room and hurried down the hallway. It didn’t take her long to reach the high–tech office in an adjacent wing of the house.
Nicholas opened the door just as she raised her hand to knock. "Take as much time as you need," he signed before he strolled past her and disappeared down the long hallway.
Geneva paused after taking a few steps into the spacious office. The uncertainty she felt reverberated within her heart and soul, but she refused to make a fool of herself by revealing her unsettled emotions.
"Why are you here, Thomas?" she asked, her senses immediately registering his physical prowess and the worry in his dark eyes.
"There were some things I needed to understand before I came after you. Nick Benteen seemed like a good place to start."
"And do you? Understand, I mean."
He nodded as he signed, "I think so, but I’m still concerned about your safety."
She stiffened. "I don’t want or need a bodyguard."
"Well, you’ve got one, so get used to the idea."
"No!" she exclaimed.
"Marry me, damn it!"
She stared at him. "What did you just say?"
"Marry me."
"That cannot and will not happen," she insisted, although it killed her to deny herself the one thing she wanted most in the world with this man.
"Why?"
"We’re too different, and I don’t want your pity or your protection. I won’t become any man’s project."
"You’re rejecting marriage to me because I can hear and you can’t. Isn’t that what you’re really saying? When did you become a bigot, Geneva?"
"No, you’re deliberately misunderstanding me. The past… my past… could easily rear its ugly head again. It’s too risky for you."
He shook his head in obvious exasperation as he closed the distance between them. "I know who you are, Geneva. That’s all that matters to me. The rest of it, we can handle together."
She shook her head. "Thomas, please…"
He stepped to within a foot of her, his expressive face conveying his emotions in concert with his signing. "Please, what? Please don’t love me? Please don’t want to marry me and make a life together? Please don’t think I’m worth any risk that comes down the pike? Please, what, Geneva?"
She stared up at him.
"Please, what?" he repeated before he took the final step to her and lowered his head.
He claimed her lips with such tenderness, her knees very nearly buckled. He stilled any words she might have spoken with his sensual exploration of her mouth. As he slipped his arms around her and drew her into his heat and hardness, she tasted much more than desire in his kiss. She tasted love, the love she’d always longed for, the love she’d never expected to receive.
When he lifted his lips from hers, Geneva’s eyes were filled with tears and her chin trembled with barely suppressed emotion. She managed to say, "We’re still worlds apart."
Thomas shook his head, signing, "You could not be more wrong. I’m no Boy Scout, never have been, and yet you persist in casting me in that role."
She wanted to believe him, but terror made her hesitate. "I saw your reaction to what I told you. You couldn’t hide it. You were appalled, Thomas, as any rational person would be."
"I was shocked, but only by the experiences you’ve had to endure and the price you’ve paid."
"But those experiences did happen, and part of what I am now is based on what and who I was before I came to Cedar Grove with Nicholas and the others. And there are people who want me dead. I can’t risk…" She broke off, unwilling to say the words aloud, unwilling to tempt fate.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Geneva?"
She didn’t reply, because she would be stating the obvious. She knew who and what she saw when she looked in the mirror—a bomb–maker turned shopkeeper, a name on more than one international hit list, a woman with a multitude of secrets that had to be kept in order to protect people she loved, a lonely woman forced to watch the world go by.
"I see beauty and intelligence when I look at you, but that’s just the surface. I see loyalty… the kind of loyalty most people would sell their souls for. I see an innate kindness and gentleness that makes my soul ache when we’re together. I see wisdom courtesy of a hard–earned understanding of human failings. I see passion I cannot and will not live without." He paused, studied her stunned expression, and then said, "I see my future, Geneva. Our future."
"Damn you," she moaned. "You’re making this impossible for me."
"I will be damned if you shut me out of your life."
She blinked up at him, shocked by his admission. And yet, sincerity and utter certainty blazed in his eyes. She wanted to believe him, but could she? "Why would you risk everything to be with me?" she finally asked.
"I’m in love with you. I have no other choice." He smiled. "I want no other choice."
The words she’d wanted to hear from him, wanted so much to believe. "How do you know you won’t change your mind later? How can you be so sure you won’t feel compelled to judge me?"
"I know the price that comes with taking a human life, Geneva. I did it in the military, and then I had to learn to live with it. I also injured people as an attorney, which is why I left my practice in San Diego and am still struggling to come to terms with the choices I made. Forgetting any of it isn’t an option, but you already know that, don’t you?"
He means it, she realized with no small amount of amazement.
"God is your judge, Geneva. Not me. Never me. Not in a million years. I carry my own ghosts from the past, not to mention more regrets than I know what to do with most of the time." He shook his head, his expression troubled. "I thought you trusted me."
"I did." Emotional fatigue washed over her. She couldn’t lie to him. "I do trust you, Thomas. I’ve never not trusted you. It’s me… I don’t always trust myself."
"Then trust me enough for both of us. And trust me when I tell you that I’m in love with you, because it’s the truth."
Shock held her immobile.
"You have a choice to make. A life sentence in a prison of your own design for crimes you did not commit, or a life with me. A life with the man who loves you."
Thomas waited, not touching her.
Geneva needed to feel his hands on her body, but she feared he might actually fulfill that need. She would be lost if he touched her. Utterly and completely lost. She wondered if he knew the extent of his power over her. Something in his gaze told her he did, but that he wouldn’t ever abuse it.
Thomas reached out to her then and gathered her into his arms. He held her for several silent minutes.
Geneva felt his tension, but she also savored the gentleness of his embrace. She shuddered, her fingers digging into his lower back as she held onto him. The thought of never touching him or being touched by him again made her feel hollow inside. The thought of not sharing their lives made her want to scream in protest to the high heavens as the prospect of endless years of emptiness reeled through her mind like a destructive tornado.
He released her when she began to ease back from him.
"I will always be different, Thomas."
"Unique is a far more appropriate word."
"I don’t want to harm your reputation."
"You can’t," he countered.
Some of her resistance ebbed, and the temptation to fling caution to the wind resurfaced within her. "I want to believe it’s possible, but I’m also trying to be realistic."
His expression determined, he signed, "I love you."
"Sometimes love isn’t enough. It wasn’t enough for my parents."
"We aren’t Erin and Patrick. Love should be worthy of sacrifice, but I doubt they ever really grasped the c
oncept," Thomas said. "At the very least, love should be a place to start."
She searched his face with worry–filled eyes. "What do you really want, Thomas?"
"I want you to be my wife. I want children and a real home. I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life and find you next to me. I just want to love you, Geneva, and I will protect you with my life if anyone ever tries to harm you."
Tears brimmed again in her eyes. He’d voiced every one of her fantasies, this man who truly loved her without conditions.
Thomas continued, "I’ve waited my entire life for you, but the decision rests in your hands now. Either you choose to believe in and trust what we feel for each other, or you throw it all away. It all boils down to a choice. Your choice."
She gazed up at him, amazed by his willingness to risk everything. And he was asking her to do the same. Thomas was right, though, and only her cowardice would keep them apart.
"Love me enough to share the future with me," he encouraged.
"I do love you, Thomas Coltrane, more than I ever thought myself capable of loving a man."
He reached out to trace the elegant curve of her jaw with his fingertip. A muscle ticked in his hard cheek, but he didn’t rush her, didn’t push her. He simply waited.
Geneva turned her head, her lips whispering across his fingertips. Her eyes fell closed for a long moment. She felt his strength in his touch and in his patience. She knew, too, that there would never be boundaries or restrictions on the kind of love he offered.
Thomas Coltrane did nothing halfway. His commitment to her would be permanent and all–encompassing, and based solely on his love for her—the kind of love she’d longed for her entire life.
Geneva smiled, the brilliant smile of a woman who no longer felt compelled to guard her heart and protect her emotions.
"Will you marry me, Geneva Talmadge?" he asked again.
"Yes, Thomas, I’ll marry you."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I love you, and because I trust you with my heart, my happiness, and my life."
"That was the right answer."
She laughed. "I certainly hope so."
Thomas drew her into his arms and swung her around.
"You’re going to make me dizzy."
Thomas smiled as he lowered her to the floor. "I know a variety of ways to make you dizzy."
She tapped his chest. "Don’t brag."
"That was a promise."
"Maybe you’d better give me a sample. That way I can be absolutely certain you’re good husband material."
He accepted her challenge, claiming her mouth in a searching, intoxicating kiss that left her breathless and clinging to his broad shoulders when it finally ended several minutes later.
"Believe me now?" he asked.
"Always." She flowed back into his arms, tangled her fingers at the back of his neck, and tugged his lips down to hers for yet another sample of his passion.
–End–