For the Love of a Soldier (34 page)

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Authors: Victoria Morgan

BOOK: For the Love of a Soldier
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“There are horrors from that day that will never be forgotten, but time should dull some of the sharper edges of their pain. You need no longer question your right to survive. You survived because it was meant to be.”

Finished, she drew a deep breath and saw he watched her silently, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, his eyes dark and troubled.

She waited for him to respond, not certain he would. He studied her in that heart-wrenchingly familiar silence of his. She didn’t believe her words would miraculously heal him; she wasn’t that naïve. She simply hoped for them to begin chipping away at the guilt-ridden fortress he had locked himself inside.

She wished he would stop standing there and
do
something.

“So it wasn’t my time?” He cocked a brow at her, a strange light in his eyes.

“No, it damn well wasn’t,” she exclaimed and then nearly slapped her hand to her mouth. “I mean—”

“I understand.”

She blinked when she saw the barest hint of a smile. Her heart took flight. “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” he echoed. He stared out past the paddock fences toward the distant hops fields. “I think I’ll take a walk and mull that over.”

“I will come with you.” She refused to leave him alone with those horrid images.

“No.” He held up his hand. “Thank you, but I’m all right. I need to walk some things off alone. Can you take the boys up to the house so Kit won’t worry?”

“Are you sure? I can—”

“I’m sure. Really. I’m all right. Or, thanks in part to you, I will be.”

His smile was slow and gentle and twined around her heart. Undecided, she gnawed on her lower lip. If he wanted to walk and think, well, she’d give him something to think about.

Before he turned to go, she raced over to him, jumped up, and flung her arms around his neck. She planted her mouth on his and kissed him with all the desire he ignited within her. She kissed him as he had taught her. Thoroughly. Deeply. Expertly. Her heart pounded fit to burst and her pulse rate skipped. And still she kissed him. She threaded her fingers into his hair and arched her body into his.

After he recovered from his surprise, a groan escaped him and his arms snaked around her like welcomed steel bands. They molded her close, lifting her feet off the ground as he met her ardor with his own.

She moaned as the familiar heat spiraled through her. Damn, but the man knew how to kiss. He wasn’t completely broken. Parts of him were very much alive.

A long while later, she broke off the kiss and loosened her grip so she slid to her feet and stepped away. She smiled smugly at his expression. His hair was mussed and his eyes dazed. He held up his hands as if he didn’t know what to do without her in his arms.

Good.

“I thought you needed something else to think about.” She spun away. “Enjoy your walk.”

She had almost reached the barn but couldn’t resist the urge to turn back. He stood where she had left him, a bemused
expression on his face. Tall, heart-stoppingly handsome, and staring at her as if he waited for something.

It took all her willpower to not race back, fling herself into his arms, and whisper what her heart had answered when he asked why he had survived.

For me.

Chapter Twenty-four

L
ATER
that evening, Alex paced a hole in her bedroom carpet.

Where the hell was he?

Damn him. He might have escaped the valley of death and two attacks on his life, but he would not survive her wrath. Garrett had never returned for dinner. Kit and Brandon kept the conversation going, but the strain of his absence had stretched taut.

She understood Garrett had things to think about and he carried baggage no man should have to tote, but damn it, he was not alone. He needed to toss off some of those burdens from his arrogant shoulders and let others help.

She didn’t know how a man could be strong yet at the same time be cobbled together by so many broken pieces that given a good shove, he’d fall apart. And she had shoved him today. Pushed him to change his perspective. Sometimes a person stood in the same place for so long, they were blind to any other views. Garrett had been rotting in place. No, she didn’t regret uprooting him. She just wanted to assure herself that he was able to pick up his broken pieces and string them back together much stronger.

To make sure he was whole.

She gnawed on her lower lip as her eyes strayed to the wall clock. It was nearing midnight.

Where the hell could he be?

A noise caused her to jump and she stared at the door separating their chambers. She heard a bang, and her breath caught. After a moment, flickering light seeped under the door.

Was he all right? Was he sober?
Unbidden the question rose, but she squelched the thought. He had said his drinking had not helped him to forget. She had to trust that he spoke true.

It was late and she should retire. Her eyes drifted to her bed and back to the glow of light beneath the door. She would wait for Garrett to do so. Time dragged on and yet the light beckoned her close, like a moth to fire.

Her feet moved of their own volition to the door. She wasn’t thinking straight, but Garrett’s husky words from ages ago resonated in the silence.

Sometimes not thinking is good
.
Sometimes things are best felt.

Her heart thundered, a wealth of feelings assaulting her. Concern. Desire. Need. Heat cascaded through her body and she closed her eyes. After a beat, she opened them and lifted her chin.

By God, after this afternoon she was done thinking.

Light was the sign she needed, not darkness. It meant Garrett remained awake. And alone. And thinking when he shouldn’t be.

Today she had admitted her love for him. Tonight she refused to hide from it. Nothing mattered but that Garrett needed her.

Her hand closed over the doorknob and she drew a deep breath. She opened the door.

The room was bathed in dim candlelight. After her eyes adjusted to the ambience, she located Garrett lying in bed. His covers were draped over his waist, his chest bare, his eyes open and fastened on hers. The candlelight cast alluring shadows over him and her breathing became shallow. He didn’t move, and that patient stillness that so defined him excited her. It was
too dark to gauge his expression, but not dark enough to dull the impact of those steel gray eyes.

This heady rush must be what Garrett had felt before he’d ridden into battle. The warring emotions of excitement and fear. Like Garrett, she refused to retreat, but there would be no fight, for she planned to surrender everything.

She glided across the carpet as her hands lifted to her nightgown. She wore no robe, had no need of one. Stopping, she undid the buttons to the front of her gown and when it gaped open, she gave a shrug and let it fall from her shoulders to pool at her feet. For the moment, she simply stood there, feeling Garrett’s eyes sweep over her naked body like a warm caress. A shiver swept through her.

Garrett lifted the covers in silent invitation, moving over to make room for her.

She stepped forward and slid into the welcoming warmth. A gasp escaped her, for she had anticipated him gently drawing her close, but there was nothing gentle about Garrett’s reaction. Before she could digest the shock of his beautiful body, long, lithe, and bare beneath the sheets, he crushed her to him and his mouth captured hers, hard and demanding. She arched against him, her tongue tangling with his in an erotic dance. Teasing and tasting.

Thinking was the first thing she surrendered.

He pulled back to draw breath, and his gaze, heavy-lidded and smoldering, met hers.

She swallowed. “You’re beautiful.” Her words escaped her in a breathless murmur. His lips curved in that lethal smile that pierced her heart, had done so since he had first wielded it.

“That’s my line for you,” he whispered and captured a long strand of her hair and watched as it slid through his fingers. “When you left the card table at Hammond’s, I told myself not to follow you. To let you go and perhaps learn from your loss.” His eyes met hers. “Thank God, I didn’t listen.”

She ran her thumb along his bottom lip, soft and full. “At the time, I wished you had. You thought I was a spoiled, irresponsible boy! And you were quite horrible, swearing at me and shoving me toward the window.”

“Perhaps I should make amends for my boorish behavior.
After all, I have since learned the error of my judgment.” She drew in her breath as his hand slid down to cup a full breast. “No boy here.”

“Very perceptive of you,” she said dryly. “But about making those amends for your boorish behavior…I rather like that idea. How do you propose to do so?”

He grinned. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I can think of something. Why don’t you place yourself in my hands, and I will tell you what I’d like you to do.” She leaned over and kissed him quite thoroughly, her tongue dancing and parrying with his.

When she drew back, she was pleased to see his gaze was unfocused and he had to blink to clear it. She dropped her voice to a husky murmur. “That is…ah…that is until it gets to a point where I need
you
to tell
me
what to do.” His eyes flared, but when he leaned forward to kiss her again, she planted her hand on his chest to stop him. “After all, you’ve also said that you could teach me things when we knew each other better.”

“I, ah…” He had to clear his throat before he could continue, “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed.

“Well, then.” He again caught a lock of her hair, and winding it around his fist, he drew her close. “Perhaps you should put yourself entirely in
my hands
.” Releasing her hair, he slid his hands down to cup her breasts as she leaned over him, his thumbs brushing over heightened peaks.

“Perhaps that might be a better idea.” She gasped. After all, he did have fabulous hands, rough and calloused from his years in the cavalry. They kneaded and molded her breasts, and she squirmed in response. Her groans were swallowed up when his mouth plundered hers, kissing her senseless. He caressed her ribs and the curve of her hips, raising a trail of goose bumps along her flesh. When his hands squeezed her thighs, she drew back to gasp for breath. A soldier knew how to strategically stake out his ground, and Garrett did so with a finesse that left her panting. She collapsed on the bed beside him.

Her body was the second thing she surrendered.

“You need to tell me if I do anything you don’t like. More
important, you need to tell me what you
do
like, what you want.”

In the back recesses of what was left of her mind, she heard Garrett speaking. However, as he spoke, his mouth trailed molten kisses down the nape of her neck and distracted her, his breath hot and moist on her flushed skin. His lips drew a pliant peak into his mouth and she arched her back as his tongue lavished her breasts. She moaned out loud, her breathing quickened. Shivers spiraled down her body, bringing to life yearnings she had never felt before.

It was as if he had opened her private Pandora’s box and instead of curiosity, he unleashed more volatile emotions.
Passion. Desire. Lust
.

Feeling was good
.

“Alex?”

She shook her head, unable to respond. She couldn’t think, only feel.

“Alex?”

“What? What is it?” She blinked up at Garrett, nearly crying out in protest at the absence of his hands on her body. Gradually, she realized he was sitting up and the candlelight bathed him in a flickering halo of light. His hair was disheveled, his chest bronzed and beautiful before her, and she reached out, needing to touch his warm skin, but he caught her hand in his and kissed each of her fingers and then her palm.

“I want you, Alex.”

He could have her.
If he would just stop talking and continue to touch her like he had been, she would give him anything he wanted. Her body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to snap.

“What do you want?”

“What?” Her heart raced as she watched Garrett smile at her.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her temple in a featherlight kiss. “I want to know what you want.” He moved to her cheeks, his lips skimming her flushed skin with gentle kisses. “What you need.” His mouth hovered near her ear. “I want to hear you say it.” His tone was husky and the whisper of his breath brushed her feverishly hot skin.

“Say what?” She gasped, closing her eyes and lifting her chin as his lips nuzzled the curve of her neck and the now-skipping beat of her pulse.

His laugh was low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. “Do you want me to touch you here?” His hands spread out over her shoulders and down her arms. “Or here?” He cupped her breasts, his thumb drawing delicious, provocative circles around her nipples.

“Garrett,” she breathed.

“So you like this?”

Her eyes flew open and seeing the smoldering intensity in his eyes, her languid, dazed delirium gradually cleared. He was teasing her, taunting her, knowing exactly what she liked. What she wanted and how she wanted it. After all, he was a rake.

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