"You're a beautiful idealist," he whispered unsteadily. "Someone I don't deserve, and never will."
"I'll decide those things for myself."
He gave her a strange look, but said nothing. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he rasped, "Let's get you to bed. You need some sleep."
"And you? What about you?"
He shrugged. "I won't sleep."
"You slept like a baby after we made love to each other," Susannah whispered. She reached over and gripped his hand.
"I guess I did."
Susannah held his misery-laden eyes. "Then sleep with me now."
Killian stared at her, the silence lengthening between them. His throat constricted.
"Come," she whispered. "Come sleep at my side."
Chapter Eleven
A ragged sigh tore from Killian as he felt Susannah's weight settle against him. The darkness in her bedroom was nearly complete. Everything was so natural between them that it hurt. Despite how badly he'd frightened Susannah, she laid her head in the hollow of his shoulder, and her body met and melded against the harder contours of his. Her arm went around his torso, and Killian heard a quivering sigh issue from her lips. To his alarm, after he'd drawn up the sheet and spread, he felt Susannah trembling. It wasn't obvious, but Killian sensed it was adrenaline letdown after the trauma she'd endured.
"This is heaven on earth," he whispered roughly against her hair, tightening his grip around her. Susannah was heaven. A heaven he didn't deserve.
"It is." Susannah sighed and unconsciously moved her hand across his naked chest. The hair there was soft and silky. His groan reverberated through her like music. Stretching upward, Susannah placed her lips softly against the hardened line of his mouth. Instantly Killian tensed, and his mouth opened and hungrily devoured hers. She surrendered herself to the elemental fire that leaped between them wherever their bodies touched.
Sean needed to understand that no matter how bad the terror that lived within him was, her love—and what she hoped was his love for her—could meet and dissolve it. Susannah's fleeting thought was quickly drowned in the splendor of his mouth as it captured hers with a primal hunger that sent heat twisting and winding through her. His hands tangled in her thick hair, and he gently eased her back on the pillow, his blue eyes narrowed and glittering.
"Love sets you free," she said, and reached up and drew him down upon her. Just the taut length of his body covering hers made her heart sing. The gown she wore was worked up and off her. The white cotton fell into a heap beside the bed, along with his pajama bottoms. As Killian settled back against her, he grazed her flushed cheek.
"You're so brave. So brave. . ." And she was, in a way Killian had never seen in a woman before. Knowing gave him the courage to reach out and love her as he'd torridly dreamed of doing so many times. As he slid his fingers up across her rib cage to caress her breast, he felt her tense in anticipation. This time, Susannah deserved all he could give her. There was no hurry now, no threat of danger. His mouth pulled into a taut line, somewhere between a smile of pleasure and a grimace of agony, as she pressed her hips against him.
The silent language she shared with him brought tears to his eyes. Susannah wasn't passive. No, she responded, initiated, and matched his hunger for her. When her hands drifted down across his waist and caressed him, he trembled violently. His world, always held in tight control, began to melt as her lips molded against his and her hands ignited him. He surrendered to the strength of this woman who loved him with a blinding fierceness that he was only beginning to understand.
As he slid his hand beneath her hips, Susannah closed her eyes, her fingers resting tensely against his damp, bunched shoulders. Her world was heat, throbbing heat, and filled with such aching longing that she gave a small whimper of pleading when he hesitated fractionally. The ache intensified. Without thinking, guided only by her desire to give and receive, Susannah moved with a primal timelessness that enveloped them. They were like living, breathing embers, smoldering, then blazing to bright, hungry life within each other's arms.
As Killian surged powerfully into her, he gripped her, as if she represented his one tenuous hold on life. In those spinning, molten moments when they gave the gift of themselves to one another, he felt real hope for the first time since he had lost his family. Glorying in his burgeoning love for Susannah, Killian sank against her, breathing raggedly.
Gently he tamed several strands of her sable hair away from her dampened brow. His smile was vulnerable as she opened her eyes and gazed dazedly up into his face. What right did he have to tell Susannah he loved her? Did he dare hope that she could stand the brutal terrors that plagued him night after night? Was he asking too much of her, even though she was willing to try?
Tasting again her wet, full mouth, Killian trembled. He didn't have those answers—as badly as he wanted them. There was so much to say to Susannah, to share with her. He lost himself in her returning ardor, for now unwilling to look beyond the moment.
With a groan, Killian came to her side and brought her into his arms. "You're sunlight," he rasped, sliding his fingers through her tangled hair. "Hope and sunlight, all woven together like some kind of mystical tapestry."
The words feathered through Susannah. Sean held her so tightly—as if he were afraid that, like the sun, she would disappear, to be replaced by the awful darkness that stalked him. With a trembling smile, she closed her eyes and pressed the length of herself against him. He'd used the word hope. That was enough of a step for now, she thought hazily. The word love had never crossed his lips. But she had to be patient and wait for Sean to reveal his love for her, if that was what it was after all. Susannah didn't try to fool herself by thinking that, just because they shared the beauty of loving each other physically, it meant that Sean came to her with real love. She would have to wait and hope that he loved her in return. Whispering his name, she said, "I'm so tired. . . ."
"Sleep, colleen. Sleep," he coaxed thickly. As much as he wanted to love her again, to silently show her his love for her, Killian knew sleep was best. He might be a selfish bastard, but he wasn't that selfish. Refusing to take advantage of the situation, he absorbed her wonderful nearness, wanting nothing more out of life than this exquisite moment.
Lying awake for a good hour after Susannah had quickly dropped off to sleep, Killian stared up at the plaster ceiling. How could she have known that he needed this? Needed her in his arms? Her soft, halting words, laced with tears, haunted him. Susannah loved him—without reserve. Didn't she know what she was getting into? He was a hopeless mess of black emotions that ruled his nights and stalked his heels during the day.
His mouth tightening, Killian absently stroked her silky hair, thinking how each strand, by itself, was weak. Yet a thick group of strands was strong. Maybe that was symbolic of Susannah. She was strong right now, while he'd never felt weaker or more out of control.
Sighing, Killian moved his head and pressed a chaste kiss to her fragrant hair. He'd cried tonight, for the first time in his life. Oddly, he felt cleaner, lighter. His stomach still ached from the wrenching sobs that had torn from him, and he absently rubbed his abdomen. The tears had taken the weight of years of grief away from him. And Susannah had paid a price to reach inside him to help him.
Closing his eyes, his arms around Susannah, Killian slid into a dreamless sleep—a sleep that was profoundly deep and healing. His first such sleep since the day he'd become a soldier in the French Foreign Legion.
Killian awoke with a start. Susannah? Instantly, he lifted his head and twisted it to the right. She was gone! Sunlight poured in through the ivory sheers—a blinding, joyous radiance flooding the room and making him squint. Quickly he sat up. The clock on the dresser read 11:00. Impossible! Killian muttered an exclamation to himself as he threw his legs across the bed and stood up. How could it be this late?
Fear twisted his heart. Susannah. Where was she? Had she left him after awaking this morning? Had she realized just how much of a li
ability he would be in her life? Bitterness coated his mouth as he quickly opened the door and strode across the hall to his bedroom. He wouldn't blame her. What woman in her right mind would stay around someone like him?
Killian hurried through a quick, hot shower and changed into a pair of tan chino slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. He padded quickly down the hall and realized that not only were the heavily draped windows in the living room open, they were raised. A slight breeze, sweet and fragrant, filled the house.
"Susannah?" His voice was off-key. Killian quickly looked around the living room and found it empty. He heard no sound from the kitchen, but hurried there anyway. Each beat of his heart said, Susannah is gone. A fist of emotion pushed its way up through his chest, and tears stung his eyes. Tears! Killian didn't care as he bounded into the kitchen.
Everything looked in order. Nothing out of place— and no Susannah. Killian stood there, his hand pressed against his eyes, and gripped the counter for support. She was gone. The shattering discovery overwhelmed him, and all he could do was feel the hot sting of tears entering his closed eyes as he tasted her loss.
The laughter of women vaguely registered on his spinning senses. Killian snapped his head toward the window. Outside, down by the lawn leading to the oceanfront, Susannah stood with his gardener, Mrs. Johnston.
His fingers whitened against the counter, and it took precious seconds for him to find his balance. Susannah hadn't left! She'd stayed! Killian stood rooted to the spot, his eyes narrowing on the two women. Susannah wore a simple white blouse, jeans, and sensible brown shoes. Her glorious hair was plaited into one long braid that hung between her shoulder blades. She stood talking animatedly with the gray-haired older woman.
Relief, sharp and serrating, jagged down through Killian. Susannah was still here. He hung his head, feeling a mass of confused emotions boiling up within him. He loved Susannah. He loved her. As he raised his head, he felt many things becoming clear. Things he had to talk to Susannah about. What would her reaction be? He had to tell her the truth, and she had to listen. What then? Killian wasn't at all sure how Susannah would judge him and his sordid world. What he did know was what he wanted: to wake up with this woman every morning for the rest of his life. But could he ask that of her?
Susannah waved goodbye to Mrs. Johnston as she left. Turning, she went through the front door of the beautifully kept cottage. In the living room she came to a startled halt.
"Sean."
He stood near the couch. The surprise on her features turned to concern. Killian searched her face ruthlessly for any telltale sign that she had changed her mind about him since last night. He opened his hand.
"When I got up, you were gone. I thought you'd left."
Susannah saw the suffering in his dark eyes. "Left?" She moved toward where he stood uncertainly.
"Yeah, forever." Killian grimaced. "Not that I'd blame you if you did."
Susannah smiled softly as she halted in front of him. Killian was stripped of his worldly defenses, standing nakedly vulnerable before her. Sensing his fragile state, she gently reached out and touched his stubbled cheek.
"I'm in for the long haul," she said, holding his haunted gaze. "If you'll let me be, Sean."
A ragged sigh tore from him, and he gripped her hand in his. "Then we need to sit down and do some serious talking, Susannah."
"Okay." She followed him to the couch. When he sat down facing her, she tucked her legs beneath her. Her knees were touching his thigh. His face was ravaged-looking, and his eyes were still puffy from sleep.
"Last night," Killian began thickly, reaching out and grazing her skin, "I could have hurt you." He felt shaky inside, on the verge of crying again as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "After my parents were murdered, Meg and I were given to foster parents to raise. I guess we were lucky, because we had no family left back in Ireland, so Immigration decided to let us stay. Our foster parents were good to us. Meg really blossomed under their love and care."
"And you?"
Sean shrugged. "I was angry and moody most of the time. I wanted to kill the two boys who had murdered our parents. I didn't do well at school. In fact, I skipped it most of the time and got mixed up in gang activities. Meg, on the other hand, was doing very well. She began acting in drama classes at high school, and she was good. Really good."
Susannah saw the pain in Sean's features. No longer did he try to hide behind that implacable, emotionless mask. His eyes were raw with uncertainty and his turbulent emotions. Reaching out, she covered his hand with hers. "How did you get into the Foreign Legion?"
"I joined the French Foreign Legion when I was seventeen, after running away from home. I had a lot of anger, Susannah, and no place to let it go. I was always in fights with other gang members. I saw what I was doing to my foster parents, to Meg, and I decided to get out of their lives.
"The Legion was hard, Susannah. Brutal and hard. It kills men who don't toughen up and walk a straight line of harsh discipline. By the time they found out my real age, I'd been in a year and survived, so they didn't kick me out. Most of my anger had been beaten out of me by that time, or released in the wartime situations we were called in to handle.
"I was only in a year when my company was sent to Africa to quell a disturbance." Killian withdrew his hand and stared down at the couch, the poisonous memories boiling up in him. "I won't tell you the gory details, but it was bloody. Tribesmen were fighting one another, and we had to try and intercede and keep the peace. For three years I was in the middle of a bloodbath that never stopped. I saw such inhumanity. I thought I knew what violence was, because I'd grown up in Northern Ireland, where it's a way of life, but this was a hundred times worse."
"And a hundred times more haunting?"
Her soft voice cut through the terror, through the revulsion that dogged him. When she slid her hand into his, he gripped it hard. "Yeah—the basis for most of my nightmares.
"The Legion has no heart, no feelings, Susannah. No one in the company slept well at night—everyone had nightmares. To combat it, to try to find an escape, I took up karate." He released her and held up his hand, his voice bleak. "All I did was learn how to kill another way. I was a natural, and when my captain realized it, he promoted me and made me an instructor to the legionnaires stationed with me. Just doing the hard physical work took the edge off my time in Africa.
"And then, Sous-Lieutenant Morgan Trayhern was transferred into my company as an assistant company commander. He had a lot of problems, too, and we just kind of gravitated toward each other over a period of a year. We both found some solace in each other's friendship. Morgan kept talking about creating a private company of mercenaries like ourselves. He wanted to pursue the idea once his hitch was up with the Legion.
"I liked the idea. I hated the Legion, the harsh discipline. Some of the men needed that kind of brutality, but I didn't. I was getting out after my six-year obligation was up, so I began to plan my life for the future. I told Morgan I'd join his company if he ever wanted to try it." Gently he recaptured Susannah's hand, grateful for her silence. She was absorbing every word he said.
"Then we had trouble in Africa again, and my company parachuted into a hot landing zone. It was the same thing all over again—only the tribes' names had changed. But this time both tribes turned on us and tried to wipe us out."
Susannah gasped, and her fingers closed tightly over Killian's scarred hand.
His mouth twisted. "Morgan was facing a situation similar to the one he had in Vietnam. We lost eighty percent of our company, Susannah. It was a living hell. I thought we were all going to die, but Morgan pulled us out. I saved his life during that time. Finally, at the last moment, he got the air support he'd requested. We were all wounded. It was just a question of how badly. Before both tribes hit us with a final assault, we were lifted out by helicopter." His voice grew bitter. "All the rest, every last valiant man who had died, were left behind."
"How awful. . ."
Kil
lian sighed raggedly. "Last night I lay awake a long time with you in my arms, reviewing my life." He gently turned her hand over in his, realizing how soft and feminine she was against him. "I was born into violence, colleen. I've done nothing but lead a violent life. Last year, Morgan sent three of us down to work with the Peruvian police to clean up a cocaine connection. Wolf, a member of our team, got captured by the local drug lord. I went in to save him, and I ended up getting captured, too."
Susannah's eyes widened. "What happened?"
"The drug lord was real good at what he did to us," was all he would say. He still wanted to protect Susannah, somehow, from the ugliness of his world. "He had us for a month before Jake, the third member of our team, busted in and brought down the drug lord. Wolf was nearly dead, and I wasn't too far behind him. We got flown stateside by the CIA, and we both recuperated in a naval hospital near the capital. As soon as Wolf regained consciousness, he told Morgan he wanted out, that he couldn't handle being a mercenary any longer."
With a little laugh, Killian said, "At the time, I remember thinking Wolf had lost the edge it takes to stay alive in our business. He's part Indian, so he stayed pretty much to himself. So did I. But I admired his guts when he told Morgan 'no more.' Morgan didn't call him a coward. Instead, he saw to it that Wolf got a job as a forest ranger up in Montana."
With a shake of his head, Killian whispered, "I envied Wolf for having the courage to quit. I wanted to, but I thought everyone would see me as a coward."
Hope leaped into Susannah's eyes, and it was mirrored in her voice. "You want to quit?"
"I can't," Killian said quietly, searching her glowing features, clinging to the hope in her eyes. "Part of my check goes to pay for my sister's massive medical bills. But. . ."
The Rogue Page 18