The Rogue (28 page)

She caressed his jaw. "You could have, but you didn't. Some part of you knew it was me, Sean. That's what stopped you, darling."

He lowered his gaze, his voice cracking. "I—I had a nightmare about Peru, about one of our missions. Wolf and I got caught and tortured by a drug lord, and the rest of our team had to go into the estate and bust us out." He squeezed his eyes shut. "That was last year. It's too fresh—that's why I get these nightmares, the flashbacks. . ."

"And you were having flashbacks after you woke up?" Susannah guessed grimly.

His mouth quirked and he raised his head. "Yes. I was hoping. . ." He drew in a ragged sigh. "I started screaming in my bedroom, and I got up, hoping I hadn't awakened you. I went out to the garage, where I always go when these things hit. It's safer that way.
A lot safer.
I'm like a wild animal in a cage," Killian added bitterly, unable to meet her lustrous gaze. His hands tightened around hers.

"A wounded animal, but not a wild one," she whispered achingly as she cupped his cheek. Killian's eyes were bleak; there was such sadness reflected in them, and in the line of his mouth. "Wounds can be bound up to heal, Sean."

He managed a soft snort. "At what cost to the healer?"

Susannah stroked his damp, bristly cheek. The dark growth of beard gave his face a dangerous quality. "As long as you're willing to get help, to make the necessary changes, then I can stay with you, if you want."

He turned to her. "Look at you. Look at the price you've already paid."

Susannah nodded. "It was worth the price, Sean.
You're
worth the effort. Don't you understand that?"

"I don't know what kind of miracle was at work when you reached out for me," he rasped. Killian held up his hands. "I've killed with these, Susannah. And when I mean to defend myself, I do it. The other person doesn't survive."

A chill swept through Susannah as she stared at his lean, callused hands. Swallowing convulsively, she whispered, "Some part of you knew I wasn't your enemy, Sean."

He wanted to say,
I
love you, that's why,
but stopped
himself
. Just looking at her pale, washed-out features told him that he had no right to put Susannah on the firing line. A terrible need to make love with her, to speak of his love for her courage, her strength, sheared through Killian. He gazed down at her innocent, upturned face.

"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."

A
ragged sigh tore from Killian as he felt
Susan
nah'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 liability 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.