Diamond Bay (21 page)

"But you aren't up to something like that yet!
Your leg could give out on you,
and your shoulder is so stiff you
can barely move it.
What if you'd torn everything open again?"

"It didn't happen. Anyway, I didn't anticipate a fight, just
one good crack at him."

His male arrogance made her want to scream; instead she ground her
teeth together. "It didn't occur to you that something could have gone
wrong?"

"Sure, but if he'd grabbed you, I wouldn't have had any
choice, so I wanted to be in position."

And he was willing to do whatever was necessary, despite his stiff
shoulder and lame leg. He was one of a rare breed, able to see the cost and
still be willing to pay it, though he would do everything he could to tip the
scales the other way.

She was still pale, her eyes shadowed, and he reached over to
slide his hand down her thigh. "It's all right," he said gently.
"Nothing happened."

"But it could have. Your shoulder – "

"Forget my damned shoulder, and my leg. I know how far I can
push them, and I don't go into anything unless I think I can win."

She was silent for the remainder of the drive, until she parked
the car under the tree. "I think I'll go for a swim," she said
tightly. "Want to come along?"

"Yes."

Joe came up to her car door as always, his dark eyes trained on
her even though he remained just out of touching distance, and he walked beside
her as she went up the steps to the porch. He accepted Kell, but if the two of
them were outside he was never far from Rachel.
He was one warrior who was content to
stay, she thought wistfully, then resolutely pushed away the creeping
self-pity.
Life would go on, even if it was
without Kell.
It hurt to
think about it, and she didn't want to, but she knew that she would survive
somehow, though her life had been irrevocably changed by the time she
had spent with him, quiet days punctuated by moments of sheer terror.

She changed into her sleek black bathing suit and Kell put on his
denim shorts, and after grabbing a couple of towels, they walked through the
pines down to the beach. Joe followed them and lay down in the scant shade of a
clump of sea oats. Rachel dropped the towels on the sand and pointed out to the
bay, where the water was rising and breaking over the submerged rocks.
"See the line where the water breaks? That's where the rocks are. I'm
pretty sure you hit your head on one of them that night. The tide was just
starting to come in, so the water was low." She pointed again. "I
dragged you out here."

Kell looked at the beach, then turned and stared up the slope,
where the pines were standing tall and straight, a thicket of wooden sentinels.
She had somehow dragged him up that slope and gotten him into the house, a feat
that he couldn't imagine when he looked at her slender body. "You damn
near killed yourself getting me up there, didn't you?" he asked quietly.

She didn't want to think about that night, or what it had cost her
physically. Part of it had already been blocked from her brain; she remembered
that she'd been in pain, but the exact nature of the pain escaped her. Perhaps
adrenaline was responsible for both her strength that night and the selective
amnesia that followed. She looked at him for a long moment, then turned and
walked into the sea. He watched until the water reached her knees, then pulled
the pistol out of his waistband and carefully laid it on a towel, covering it
with the other to keep the blowing sand out of it. Then he dropped his shorts
and walked naked into the water after her.
Rachel was a strong swimmer, having spent
most of her
life living on the Gulf, but Kell stayed
even with her despite his stiff shoulder.
At first, when she realized he was in the water, she had started
to protest that he shouldn't get his wounds wet, but she swallowed the words.
After all, he had swum with open wounds, and the exercise would be good
therapy. They swam in the bay for half an hour before he decided that he'd had
enough, and Rachel returned to the beach with him. It wasn't until the water
reached his waist that she realized he was nude, and the familiar quiver shook
her insides as she watched him wade out of the water. He was so lean and hard
and perfect, darkly tanned and roped with muscle, even his tight buttocks. She
watched as he moved the pistol and lay down on one of the towels, his glistening
body offered to the sun.

She left the water, too, bending over to wring out her hair. When
she straightened again she found him watching her. "Take off the bathing
suit," he said softly.

She looked out to sea, but there were no boats in sight. Then she
looked at him again, lying there like a bronzed, naked statue, except that
she'd never seen a statue in a state of arousal. Slowly she reached up for the
straps on her shoulders and drew them down, and immediately she felt the heat
of the hot sun kissing her wet breasts. A slight breeze suddenly kicked up,
whispering across her nipples and making them pucker. Sabin's breath caught in
his chest, and he held his hand out to her. "Come here."

She pushed the bathing suit down and off, then walked to the
towels. He sat up and reached for her, drawing her down beside him and
stretching her out. Amusement was twinkling in his dark eyes as he looked down
at her. "Guess what I forgot to bring."

She began to laugh, the sound pure and deep in this world where
only the two of them existed.

"Ah, well, you're too sore
for that, anyway," he murmured sliding his hand over her breasts and
bringing her nipples to tingling awareness.
"I'll just have to…
 
improvise "

He leaned over her, his shoulders so broad that they blocked out
the sun, and his mouth burned on hers, then down on her body.

He was very good with improvisations. He lingered over her as if
she were a willing, sun-kissed sacrifice offered up for his delectation, until
her body finally arched to his rapacious mouth and she cried out in intolerable
pleasure, her cry rising to the white inferno of the sun.

Rachel didn't let herself think
about time, though she knew they had only a few more days at the most, however
long it took this Sullivan to make his arrangements and travel down to meet
Kell.
She lived completely in the present,
reveling in his company whatever they were doing. He began helping her gather
the vegetables from the garden, and he worked some with Joe, gaining more of
the dog's trust and showing Rachel how highly trained Joe was. After the first
swim they also spent a lot of time down at the bay; they swam every morning and
again in the afternoon, after the worst of the heat was over. It was marvelous
therapy, and every day he got stronger, his shoulder more flexible and his limp
improving.
He also did
other exercises, continually working to bring his body back up to par, and she
could only watch in amazement.
She was athletic
and strong herself, but her endurance was nothing compared to his. He was often
in pain; she sensed it, even though he never said anything, but he ignored it
as if it weren't there. Ten days after she'd found him he was gingerly jogging
around the house, his thigh tightly wrapped to brace the injured muscle. After
a moment of anger Rachel joined him and jogged along beside him, ready to catch
him if his leg gave out and he fell. It wouldn't have done any good to yell at
him, because it was important for him to be able to meet whatever demands might
be placed on him when he left.

And whatever they did, they talked. He was reticent about himself,
both naturally and as a result of his training, but he did have a lot of
fascinating inside details about the political and economic considerations of
governments around the world. He probably also knew more than anyone would want
him to know about military forces and capabilities, but he didn't talk about
those. Rachel learned as much about him from his omissions as she did from the
subjects he would talk about.

No matter what they did, whether
weeding the garden, jogging around the house, cooking a meal or arguing
politics, desire ran between them like an invisible current, linking them
together in a state of heightened awareness.
Her senses were filled with him; she knew his taste, his smell,
his touch, every nuance of his deep voice. Because he was normally so
expressionless she watched him closely for each small movement of his brows or
twitch of his lips. Even though he was relaxed with her and smiled more often,
sometimes teasing her, his laughter was rare, and therefore doubly treasured,
the occasions pressed into her memory. Their desire couldn't be quenched by
lovemaking, because it was more than a
physical need. She immersed
herself in him, knowing that she had only the present.

Still, physical desire couldn't be denied. Rachel had never been
so thoroughly enjoyed before, even in the early days of marriage. Kell had a
strong sexual appetite, and the more he made love to her, the more they both
wanted it again. He was exquisitely careful with her until she became more accustomed
to him, his lovemaking both sophisticated and earthy. There were times when
they lingered, savoring each sensation like sexual gourmets until the tension
was so strong that they exploded together.
There were also the times when their
loving was fast and hard, when there was
no foreplay because their need to be together was too urgent.

The third day after he'd called Sullivan, Kell made love to her
with barely controlled violence, and she knew that he was thinking this might
be the last day they had together. She clung to him, her arms tight around his
neck when he lay on her in heavy, damp exhaustion. A lump lodged in her throat,
and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut in an effort to deny the march of time.
She couldn't bear to let him go.

"Take rne with you," she said thickly, unable to let it
lie, to simply let him walk away from her. Rachel was too much of a fighter to
let him go without trying to change his mind.

He stiffened, then withdrew from her to lie on his back beside
her, his forearm thrown up to cover his eyes. The ceiling fan whirred overhead,
wafting a cool breeze across their overheated skin and making her feel a little
chilled without the heat of his body pressed over her. She opened her eyes to
stare at him, her gaze burning with desperation.

"No," he finally said, and left it at that, the single
word filled with a finality that almost broke her heart.

"Something could be worked out," she pressed. "At
worst we could see each other occasionally. I'm mobile. I can work anywhere–"

"Rachel," he interrupted tiredly. "No. Leave
it." He took his forearm down from his eyes and looked at her. Though his
expression changed very little, she could tell that he was annoyed by her
persistence.

She was too desperate to stop. "How can I leave it? I love
you! This isn't a game I'm playing, that I can just pick up my marbles and go
home when I get tired of it!"

"Damn it, I'm not playing games, either!" he roared,
bolting upright in the bed and seizing her arm to shake her, finally goaded
past his limits. His eyes were hot and narrowed, his teeth clenched. "You
could be killed because of me! Didn't it teach you anything when your husband
died?"

She went pale, staring at him. "I could be killed driving into
town," she finally said shakily. "Would that make me any less dead?
Would you grieve any less?" Suddenly she stopped, wrenching her arm free
and rubbing it where his fingers had bitten into her flesh. She was so white
that her eyes burned darkly in her colorless face. Finally she said with an
attempt at lightness, "Or would you grieve at all? I'm being rather
presumptuous, aren't I? Maybe I'm the only one involved here. If so, just
forget everything I've said."

Silence stretched between them as they faced each other on the
bed; her face was strained, his grim. He wasn't going to say anything. Rachel
inhaled sharply at the pain squeezing her insides. Well, she'd asked for it.
She'd pushed him, fighting to change his mind, to get a commitment from him,
and she had lost… everything. She had thought that he cared for her, loved her,
even though he'd never said anything about love. She had put it down to his
natural reticence. Now she had to face the unpleasant truth that it was his
brutal honesty that had kept him from saying he loved her. He wouldn't spout
pretty words that he didn't mean just to soothe her feelings. He liked her.
She was a reasonably attractive
woman, and she was convenient; he was highly sexed.
The reason for his attentions was obvious, and she'd made a
complete fool of herself.

The worst of it was that even facing the hard, unpalatable reality
didn't stop her from loving him. That was another reality, and she couldn't
wish it away.

"Sorry," she mumbled,
scrambling off the bed and
reaching for her clothes, suddenly
embarrassed by her nudity.
It was different
now.

Sabin watched her, every muscle coiled tightly. The look on her
face ate at him, the abrupt embarrassment, the sudden extinguishing of the
light in her eyes as she fumbled with her clothing in an attempt to cover
herself. He could let her go. She might get over him more easily if she thought
he had just used her sexually, without returning any of her emotion. Emotion
made Sabin uneasy; he wasn't accustomed to it. But damned if he could stand
that look on her face! Maybe he couldn't give her much, but he couldn't leave
with her thinking she'd been nothing more than a sexual convenience.

Rachel was out of the room before he could catch her, and then he
heard the screen door slam. Going to the door, he saw her disappearing into the
pines with Joe right beside her, as usual. He cursed steadily as he jerked on
his pants and started after her. She wasn't going to be inclined to listen to
him now, but listen she would even if he had to hold her down.

When Rachel reached the beach she kept walking, wondering how she
was going to find the courage to go back to the house and act as if everything
were normal, as if she weren't a shriveled knot of pain inside. Still, it was
probably only for one more day; she could manage that. She could endure it for
twenty-four hours. Part of her was glad that it could be measured in hours;
then she could forget about a stiff upper lip and cry until the tears were all
gone. But the rest of her screamed silently at the thought of not seeing him
again, no matter what he felt – or didn't feel – for her.

A pastel pink shell was half-hidden by a clump of seaweed, and she
paused to push the seaweed aside with her foot, hoping to find something
beautiful to lighten her heart.

But the shell was broken, most of it gone, and she kept walking.
Joe left her side, trotting up the beach to do his own exploring; he had been
changed by Kell's arrival, too, for the first time allowing a man to touch him
and learning to accept someone other than Rachel. She watched the dog,
wondering if he would miss Kell, too.

A warm hand closed on her shoulder, bringing her to a halt. Even
without looking around she knew it was Kell; she knew his touch, the rasp of
his roughened fingertips. She felt him at her back, tall and warm, so intense
that her skin tingled whenever he was near. All she had to do was turn around
and her head would fit right into the hollow of his shoulder, her body would
fit into his arms, but he wouldn't allow her to fit into his life. She didn't
want to treat him to tears and hysterics, and she was very much afraid she
would if she turned around, so she kept her back to him.

"This isn't easy for me, either," he said roughly.

"I'm sorry," she broke in, wanting to make a quick end
to it. "I didn't mean to start a scene, or put you on the spot. Just
forget it, if you can."

His hand tightened on her shoulder, and he turned her around,
sliding his other hand into her hair and tilting her face up so he could see
her eyes. "Don't you see that it couldn't work between us? I can't leave
my job. What I do… it's hard and it's ugly, but it's necessary."

"I haven't asked you to give up your job," she said, her
face proud.

"It's not the damn job I'm worried about!" he shouted,
his dark face furious. "It's you! God, it would tear my guts out if
anything happened to you! I love you." He paused, took a deep breath, and
continued more quietly. "I've never said that to anyone before, and I
shouldn't be saying it now, because there's no use in it."

The wind whipped her hair around her face as she stared up at him,
her gray eyes fathomless. Slowly his fist loosened in her hair and he moved his
hand down to her neck, rubbing his thumb over the fluttering pulse at the base
of her throat. Rachel swallowed. "We could try it for a little
while," she whispered, but he shook his head.

"I want to know that you're safe. I
have to
know that,
or I can't function the way I should. I can't make a mistake, because if I did
it could mean that people died, good men and women. And if you were
kidnapped–" He stopped, his face almost savage. "I'd sell my soul to
keep you safe."

Rachel felt herself shattering on the inside. "No, it can't
be like that. No negotiation–"

"I love you,"
he said
harshly. "I've never loved anyone before in my life, not my parents, any
of my relatives, or even my wife. I've always been alone, different from
everyone else. The only friend I've ever had is Sullivan, and he's as much of a
lobo as I am. Do you really think I could sacrifice you? Sweet hell, woman,
you're my one chance in a lifetime–" He broke off, a muscle in his jaw
twitching as he stared at her. "And I don't dare take it," he
finished quietly.

She understood, and she wished she didn't. Because he loved her,
he didn't trust himself not to betray his country if she were kidnapped and
used as a weapon against him. He wasn't like people who had loved before and
would love again; he was too remote, too chillingly alone. For whatever reason,
whatever particular chemistry and circumstance, he loved her, and it was the
only time in his life he would ever love a woman. Living with him would make
her vulnerable to attack; merely loving her would make him vulnerable, because
for a man such as he, love was something both wonderful and terrible.

He took her hand, and they walked
silently back to the
house.
It was time for lunch; Rachel went into the kitchen with the
intention of trying to busy herself cooking so she wouldn't be able to think.
Kell leaned against the cabinets and watched her, his black eyes burning her
flesh. Suddenly he reached out and caught her hand, removing the pot from her
grasp and setting it back on the countertop. "Now," he said gutturally,
pulling her toward the bedroom.

He stripped down her shorts but didn't take the time to remove her
shirt; nor did he take the time to shed his pants, merely opening them and
shoving them down. They didn't make it to the bed. He took her on the floor, so
desperate to be inside her, to sheathe himself in her and eliminate all
distance between them, that he couldn't wait. Rachel clung to him as he pounded
into her, every inch of her flesh, every cell, branded by his possession. And
even then they both knew it wouldn't be enough.

Late that afternoon she walked out to the garden to gather a few
fresh peppers to add to the spaghetti sauce she was cooking. Kell was taking a
shower, and Joe, oddly, was nowhere in sight. She started to call him, but
decided that he must be asleep under the oleander bush, taking refuge from the
heat. The temperature had to be pushing a hundred, and the humidity was high,
prime conditions for a thunderstorm. With her hand full of peppers she crossed
the small backyard to the house. Later she could never decide where he came
from; there had been no one in sight, and no place for him to hide. But as she
went up the back steps he was suddenly there behind her, his hand clamping over
her mouth and jerking her head back. His other arm went around her in almost
exactly the same movement Kell had used when he had jumped her from behind, but
instead of a knife this man carried a gun clutched in his fist; it glinted in
the sun with a dull blue sheen.