The Rogue (29 page)

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. . ."

Killian 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. . ."

"What?"

He gripped his hands, thinking how small, yet how strong, she was. "I'm messed up inside, Susannah. Maybe I've done this work too long and don't know any other way." His voice grew thick. "Last night, when I held you, I realized that I needed to get help- professional help—to unravel this nightmare that's eating me alive from the inside out. I swore I'd never put you in that kind of jeopardy again."

With a little cry, Susannah threw her arms around Killian's shoulders. "I love you so much," she whispered, tears squeezing from her eyes. She felt his arms slide around her and bring her tightly against him.

Killian buried his face in her hair. "It can be done, Sean. I know it can."

He shook his head, and when he spoke again his voice was muffled. "I don't know that, Susannah."

She eased away just enough to study his suffering features. "I'll be here for you, if you want. . . ."

The words, sweet and filled with hope, fell across his tightly strung nerves. He searched her lustrous eyes. "I don't know. . . ." How badly he wanted to confess his love to her, and yet he couldn't. "Let me feel my way through this."

"Do you want me to leave?" She hated to ask the question. But she did ask it, and then she held her breath.

"I— No, not really."
He held her hand tightly within his. "That's the selfish side of me speaking. The other side, the nightmares. . . Well, you'd be better off staying at a nearby hotel—just in case."

Susannah had faith that Killian would never harm her, no matter how virulent his nightmares became, but she knew it wasn't her place to make that decision. "I have the next three weeks off, Sean. My principal gave me the time because he felt after
all the
trauma I'd gone through I needed time to pull myself together again."

Killian's heart
thudded,
and he lifted his head. "Three weeks?" Three weeks of heaven. There was such love shining in her eyes that he clung to the tenuous shred of hope that had begun burning in his chest when he loved Susannah last night.

"Yes. . . ."

He compressed his lips and studied her long, slender fingers. The nails were cut short because she did so much gardening, Killian realized. Susannah had hands of the earth, hands that were in touch with the primal elements of nature—and her touch brought out so much in him that was good. "I'll take you to a hotel in downtown Victoria," he told her quietly. "I want you to stay these three weeks if you want, Susannah." He lifted his gaze and met hers. "No promises."