TO HOLD AN EAGLE

by Justine Davis

  "I had some operations."

  "Some?"

  He shrugged. "Half a dozen or so."

  "My God," Chandra breathed. How could he be so casual about it? "Why?"

  "Repair work."

  The short, sharp tone was pointed, and Chandra drew back, turning her attention to her meal. She didn't look up until she heard him let out a long breath.

  "Sorry," he said. "It's not something I like to talk about."

  "I understand. I shouldn't have asked."

  "Why not? I've certainly picked you apart enough."

  She had no answer for that that wouldn't reveal more than she wanted him to know, so she said nothing. After the way he'd rebuffed her, she certainly didn't want him guessing that what she'd done had been as much out of need as debt. She had been shocked enough herself to realize that she truly wanted him, she who had thought her capacity for genuine response to any man long smothered. She had wanted him—Linc Reese—and it hadn't even mattered to her that he felt nothing for her except perhaps an automatic male response to an attractive female in close proximity.

  "I had a few broken bones, courtesy of the Viet Cong," he said, startling her; she hadn't expected him to answer. "They had to go in and rebreak them so they'd heal straight."

  Chandra cringed inwardly at the image. Coward, she told herself. "Is that … what happened to your foot, too?"

  His mouth twisted. "You noticed, huh? No, that one I did myself."

  Her eyes widened. "Yourself?"

  "Trying to get out of that damn cage they had me in."

  Chandra's fork clattered to her plate. Linc went on as if he hadn't noticed.

  "It could have been a lot worse. The guys at Bethesda did a hell of a job. They both still work." He shrugged. "At least I've got a matched set."

  "How can you be like that?" Incredulity rang in her voice. "How can you just say it like it was nothing?"

  "Oh, it was something, all right. I was pretty damn scared."

  Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You? Scared? I'll bet you've never been really scared in your life."

  "I was when they came at me with that hammer."

  "Hammer?" Her stomach churned.

  "All I could think of was that it would kill my father if I came back like he did, all broken into pieces. Shiloh could have handled it, she can handle just about anything, but Dad … it was worse for him. Because he'd been through it, he knew what it was like."

  "Oh, God," Chandra whispered, horrified. "It must have been horrible!"

  "It was," he agreed easily. "Just sitting there, nursing my smashed up hand, listening to them discuss how they were going to kill me. Like you had to."

  Chandra smothered a gasp. Linc leaned forward suddenly, his eyes boring into her, the gold flecks brilliant in the soft light of the oil lamp he'd lit.

  "You think courage is just not being scared? Hell, any idiot who doesn't know enough to be scared can be a hero. Real courage is being scared and doing what you have to do anyway, Chandra. Even if it's jumping off a boat into the Pacific."

  He'd meant to do it, she realized later. As she lay in her narrow bunk, staring at the ceiling just over her head, she knew he'd done it on purpose. He'd opened himself up to her, talked about something he hated to talk about, just to try to help her, to try to make her believe she wasn't the coward she thought she was.

  He was wrong, of course. Or just being kind. Wasn't he? She'd lived with the knowledge of her own inadequacies for so long, it had never occurred to her to question them. Her father had taught her thoroughly about men and their prices, her husband about her own worth—or lack of it. Yet Linc had shown her that her father had been wrong, that there were men who lived by their own code, a code no price would induce them to break.

  She lay in silence, listening to his steady breathing. Somehow, thinking about it that way took some of the sting out of his rejection. Yet at the same time, it made her feel empty inside, cheap, as if she had tried to pay a huge debt with tarnished pennies.

  But again, it was Linc who had been so angry, so wonderfully angry. Linc who had told her she was worth more than to offer herself in payment of a debt, despite what Daniel had always told her. And if her father had been wrong about men like Linc's existence, then why not Daniel about herself?

  It was too astonishing a thought, too much to be dealt with after an emotionally draining day, and she let the incredible idea slip away as weariness finally claimed her. But in her dreams, inspired perhaps by the closeness of this man who so drew her, they were together, in some distant time when she could face him, free and confident, and he came to her because he wanted to, not just because she was there. And then, even in sleep, some functioning part of her mind shattered the dream with mocking laughter; there would never, a taunting voice said, be a time when she would be free and confident.

  "What?" Chandra stared at Linc blankly.

  "I said," he repeated patiently, "get your stuff together. We're going to my sister's this morning."

  Chandra backed up a step, still staring, and now shaking her head in mute protest.

  "It'll be all right. Look, you can take a real bath if you want, a hot one, and we'll get to eat something that didn't come out of a can. I've got to take her car back anyway—"

  "No. I can't."

  "Why not?"

  She swallowed tightly. What could she say? That she thought the boat had become such a sanctuary that the thought of leaving it terrified her? That she was afraid to set foot out in the world again? That the thought of facing his self-assured, vibrant sister, the woman who had assessed her with such lethal accuracy, made her a little queasy?

  "I just can't."

  "Shy won't mind. I was going up there tonight anyway, for dinner. We'll just be a few hours early."

  "You go, then."

  "Chandra—"

  "She won't want me there! You heard what she said, you must know that."

  Linc set down the coffee mug he'd been rinsing out. He crossed the cabin to where she stood. Chandra supposed it was progress of a sort that she didn't flinch when he reached out to grasp her shoulders, but whatever she'd gained by conquering her fear she'd lost in failing to be able to counteract the frisson of sensation that rippled through her at his touch. In the instant before he spoke, his fingers flexed, as if he'd felt the ripple that went through her. Or had felt one of his own.

  "Listen to me," he said firmly. "My sister may have a blind spot when it comes to our mother, just like you have one about yourself. But she has a heart as big as the Pacific, and she would never turn away someone who needed help. How do you think she got tangled up with Con in the first place?"

  Chandra stared up at him. "I don't know."

  "He showed up on her doorstep—on her bed, actually—sick and needing help. And she helped him, before she even knew that he was my friend."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

  "I know. And neither did she. Now come on, let's go."

  "But—"

  "No buts. Get your things."

  Chandra had been brought up to obey orders. She'd always done so, so she had little chance of resisting this one, given by a man used to being in command, and she knew he knew it. She wondered vaguely, as she began to put her few possessions once more in the plastic grocery bag, what rank he held now. He was too young to be a general, she supposed, although he certainly could act like it. But general was an army rank, wasn't it? The navy would be admiral or something. She sighed, reaching for the hairbrush to give one last swipe to her hair.

  She'd almost gotten used to it now, this drastic shortness. She liked the way it bounced around her face, brushing her cheeks and chin. It felt wonderfully light, and was so easy, drying naturally into a smooth, sleek sweep. It also gave her a tiny feeling of self-mastery; Daniel had always insisted she never cut her hair. Her beauty depended on it, he'd said. And her worth depended on that beauty, he'd meant.

  Last night she'd dared to wonder if perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps
Linc wasn't just being kind, perhaps he really did see something of value beneath the practiced exterior. It was a difficult idea to cling to in the harsh light of day, when she found herself once more meekly doing as she was told.

  After locking up the boat, Linc led her off the dock and up the gangway to the parking lot. Just as she had done when Linc took her out shopping, Chandra groaned inwardly at the sight of the bright red four-wheel-drive Blazer that sat near the gate. Of course. What else would the capable, competent Shiloh drive?

  She endured the ride in silence, thinking that if she was another person in another time, she could appreciate the beauty of this coastal area. Newer, energetic Dana Point with its Cape Cod style buildings, and then lovely San Clemente, with the preponderance of red tile roofs adding to the pleasant, sleepy Spanish village atmosphere.

  When Linc pulled off a narrow, older street into a driveway, Chandra looked around with surprised interest. The little house fairly jumped out at the eye amidst the tamer gardens on the block. She hadn't expected this, an exploding profusion of early spring flowers, filling the small yard to overflowing with brilliant color and gloriously sweet smells. It was riotous, tended by a hand that was clearly loving but not insistent on perfection.

  It was the kind of garden she would have loved to have, had not Daniel insisted on a cool, formal elegance in his surroundings. And Chandra found herself revising her estimate of the formidable Shiloh Reese McQuade.

  "They'll be in the back," Linc said as they got out. "Con built Shy a sun-room last year, and he can't get her out of it now."

  "Oh." She followed him around the side of the small house, looking around doubtfully. "Shouldn't we knock or something?"

  Linc grinned at her. "Are you kidding? Con knows we're here."

  Chandra blinked. "What? Oh, you mean he heard the car pulling into the drive?"

  "He probably heard it from the top of the hill."

  "But how could he know what car—"

  "Con can tell a Blazer from a Bronco from a mile away, and could probably pick out Shy's Blazer at five." Linc's grin widened. "You watch, there'll be an extra cup on the table already. Besides, if he wasn't sure it was Shy's car, trust me, he'd be out here, ready for anything."

  "On his white horse?" Chandra's words as she remembered the surprising tenderness that the rough-looking man had shown his wife, came out sounding almost wistful.

  "And wearing his white hat," Linc agreed as they rounded the corner.

  The door to the glass sun-room stood open. Moments ago, Chandra would have assumed it was to let in the lovely perfume of the blossoming garden, but now she wondered if it hadn't been just opened for Linc's arrival. And the cup he'd foretold, she saw as he ushered her inside, sat waiting for him.

  Chandra wanted nothing more than to run rather than to face these people, but she made herself look at them. Shiloh's green eyes widened slightly when she saw her brother's companion, but she merely nodded, said, "I'll get another cup," and walked into the adjoining kitchen.

  Her husband, on the other hand, didn't register even that much surprise. Connor McQuade just looked at Chandra assessingly, then at Linc, as if he'd just gotten confirmation of something he'd suspected all along.

  "You knew," Linc said dryly as he pulled out a chair for Chandra, then sat down himself.

  Con shrugged, his piercing blue eyes flickering over Chandra. "I was guessing."

  "I know about your guesses, my friend."

  Con shrugged again. Then he looked at Chandra once more, steadily this time. "I presume you're the reason for that shiny, new metalwork for the lock on his boat?"

  Chandra sucked in her breath and looked quickly away. It hadn't sounded accusatory, but she couldn't help herself; he looked so very fierce.

  "She didn't have any choice, Con. She was cold, tired, scared and alone and she had nowhere else to go."

  God, did he have to make her sound like such a pitiful thing? Chandra thought. Especially when Shiloh had come back, cup and coffeepot in hand, just in time to hear it? Then she grimaced; it was the truth, wasn't it? She had no right to be upset.

  "I know the feeling."

  Con's words were so soft, so gentle, that Chandra's head snapped up in surprise. His eyes, those cool, piercing eyes, were as warm as his words had been, and she gaped at him in shock. And in that moment he wasn't daunting at all; he was a man who knew too well exactly what it felt like to be utterly, totally alone.

  This unexpected support, this empathy from a man who had so intimidated her merely by his fierce presence shook Chandra's conception of him—and his wife—even more than the lovely abundance of flowers had. She glanced at Shiloh, who was looking at her husband questioningly as she pushed the morning newspaper out of the way and set down the coffeepot. There was no mistaking the love that glowed in her face, and Chandra felt a pang of envy that for once had nothing to do with the fact that Shiloh was the kind of woman she'd always wanted to be.

  Whatever Shiloh had been searching for in Con's expression, she seemed to have found it, for she glanced only briefly at Linc, then turned to Chandra.

  "Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Lansing?"

  Chandra bit her lip. "I— Call me Chandra, please," she whispered, hating the way she sounded and the fact that she was shaking. "And yes, thank you."

  Shiloh filled her cup, then Linc's, then sat back down. "That's a lovely name."

  "Thank you."

  It came out as a hoarse little croak, and Shiloh's brow furrowed. "I don't bite, you know," she said mildly.

  Chandra blushed, staring down at her steaming cup.

  "Oh, yes, you do, Green-eyes," Con said quietly. "And claw and scratch and kick when it comes to protecting the ones you love."

  Chandra risked a quick glance upward in time to see Shiloh shift her puzzled gaze to her husband.

  "You're being cryptic again, McQuade." The pure love in her toned robbed her words of any sting. "Say what you mean."

  "I mean," he said, glancing at Chandra, "that unless I'm mistaken, our guest here was aboard Linc's boat when we were there yesterday."

  Shiloh's startled glance flew to her brother. Linc shrugged, and Shiloh's eyes widened. And as she shifted her gaze to Chandra, to Chandra's astonishment, she blushed.

  "Oh, Lord, I'm sorry." She reached across the table and put a hand atop Chandra's trembling one. "I never… I get started on that old bandwagon and you just can't stop me."

  "It's all right," Chandra said, a little shakily, surprised at the gesture. "You were … right, anyway."

  She felt Linc tense, but Shiloh, clearly feeling remorseful, went on before he could speak.

  "I had no right to say those things, without even knowing you." Shiloh withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair, looking rueful. "I just don't think real straight when it comes to … that. Con and Linc can tell you that."

  "I did," Linc put in wryly.

  "After all your mother did," Con put in, "it's amazing you can think about it at all."

  Shiloh threw her husband a quick, tender glance of thanks for the immediate support. What it must be like to love and be loved like that, Chandra thought wonderingly. And what it must be like to be the kind of woman who could inspire that kind of love not in just one man but two, on two different levels, but each in its own way as strong, as fierce. She let out a tiny sigh without meaning to, and Shiloh turned back to her.

  "So," she said briskly, "what can we do to help?"

  Chandra blinked. "What?"

  "What can we do? Do you need a place to stay? Some clothes? Linc said you had nothing with you except his shirt when you left him standing flat-footed and feeling stupid the other day."

  Chandra smothered a gasp, throwing a fearful glance at Linc, unable to imagine being able to tease him that way, about that. But he only made a wry face at his sister.

  "Go ahead, rub it in. You'll get yours."

  "Sure," Shy said with a grin, "but this is too good to pass up." She threw a wink at Chandra tha
t startled her even more than that unexpected apology. "I'm proud to meet you, Chandra. Any woman who can catch this gorilla off guard has got my admiration."

  Her admiration? The unflappable Shiloh McQuade admiring her, Chandra Lansing? Chandra nearly laughed at the thought. Shiloh, fortunately, took it as a response to her teasing, and smiled back. And in that moment Chandra saw the resemblance between brother and sister that she had missed until now; it was there in the shape of nose and mouth, and in the twinkle that flashed in their eyes when they smiled.

  "Well," Con said after a moment, "what can we do?"

  They meant it, Chandra realized with a little shiver of amazement. They really meant it. With no questions asked, they were ready to help her. Because of Linc, she knew, but ready, nevertheless. She looked at Linc, shaking her head in wonder.

  "Of course they mean it," he said as if she'd voiced her wonder. "And there's no price tag, either."

  She caught her breath, trying to beat back the furious color she could feel rising. Images of yesterday afternoon flooded her, and the memories of the unexpected, hot sweetness almost outweighed the memory of her own humiliation. Desperately she pushed them back.

  She fiddled with the handle on the coffee cup she had yet to lift to her mouth. Con nudged the cream and sugar closer to her, and when she instinctively looked up in thanks, he smiled at her, a warm, understanding smile that made her swallow tightly. Where on earth had these two come from, these two men who were so different from any she'd ever known?

  "So, tell me, Chandra," Con said casually, "did you jump or were you pushed?"

  She jerked sharply, nearly spilling her coffee. Caught completely off guard, her gaze snapped up to Con's face, then to Linc's. Linc merely shrugged.

  "Don't look at me. I told you he was good."

  Con shrugged off the praise. "Didn't take much. Not too many options. Pushed is one, jumping opens up a couple of others."

  "But…" Chandra looked at Con, then Shiloh. "You brought him the newspaper…"

  "I think we all gave up believing everything we read in the newspaper long ago," Shy said wryly. "Except maybe the comics."