Her Last Line of Defense (16 page)

She pulled open the front door. “Yes?” Her voice trailed away. Luc stood on the wide front porch in a button-down black shirt and matching pants. He looked lean, dark and heartbreakingly handsome. “Luc. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“Oh, come in.” Her stomach quivered as he followed her into the high-ceilinged entryway. “Would you like some lemonade? Louella made it fresh this morning with real lemons and mint simple syrup. She loves making everything from scratch,” she called over her shoulder as she scurried into the kitchen.

Over the past few days, she’d imagined a hundred different scenarios if Luc actually did show up. He’d drop to his knees to beg her forgiveness; she’d chew him out and point a haughty finger toward the door. But she hadn’t imagined she’d run away from him and offer him a cold beverage.

She pulled the pitcher from the fridge before he stopped her. “Claire, I don’t want any lemonade.”

“You don’t?” She stood there stupidly as her hands sweated more than the pitcher.

“No.” He took it from her and set it in the fridge. “I’ve been thinking about what happened between us and I realized it shouldn’t have ended that way.”

“Oh. So you came to end it another way.” Talk about twisting the knife.

He grabbed her clammy hand. “I…” He blew out his breath in a nervous puff. “I don’t want it to end at all.”

“You don’t?” Her fingers tightened on his. “What about all your talk about how you didn’t want to have anyone waiting for you because of the danger involved?”

He shook his head. “The only danger is not being with you.”

Claire couldn’t believe he was saying the things she longed to hear. “Two days ago, you were telling me about all your buddies who got dumped overseas. What if you have regrets the second I fly away? Do I have to dread opening my mail for fear of a ‘Dear Jane’ letter?”

He caressed her cheek. “Like a very wise and beautiful woman once told me, sometimes a man has to stop chasing death and live a true life. And I want to live that true life with you.” He pulled a gray velvet pouch from his pocket and tipped a gold circle into his palm. “Read it.”

She picked it up from his warm hand. “‘
Vous et nul autre.’ ‘You and no other.
’” The ancient words of love were engraved in a medieval script on the ring. It was beautiful and she could hardly believe he was offering it to her. “Oh, Luc. Where did you get this?” She pressed her hand against her mouth.

“The operator was a bit worried when I asked where the warehouse was, but when I told her I was a soldier and needed it for my girlfriend, she gave me their address in Atlanta.”

“You drove to Atlanta for this?” That was a five-hour drive from Fayetteville and another seven-hour drive to Cooksville.

He nodded, his expression nonchalant but his eyes gleaming. “I drove all night and bought it when they opened at oh-eight-hundred. Then I stopped at home, took a shower and drove here.”

Her eyes widened. “When was the last time you slept?” He was probably hallucinating from sleep deprivation by now. She hoped he remembered giving her the ring when he woke up tomorrow.

“A while ago. But that’s not important, Claire. You are. We are.”

Her eyes filled. “Oh, Luc. I thought you didn’t care.” His face blurred and he pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t cry,
cher
Claire.
Je t’aime toujours, ma douce.”

She cried even harder. It was the first time he had told her he loved her, would love her forever. “I love you, too, always.”

He gave a big sigh of relief. “We love each other, right?” She nodded. “Give me a kiss, then, sweetheart.”

She tipped her mouth up to his, her wet cheeks sliding over his as he kissed her gently.

“But I’m leaving for San Lucas the day after tomorrow!” she wailed. “I can’t let them down—I have fifty pounds of medication that they’re counting on.”

“They’re counting on more than that, Claire. They’re counting on
you
.” He kissed her again. “Go to San Lucas,
cher
. I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.”

“But what if you get deployed before I return?”

“Then you’ll be waiting for me when I come off that plane, waving that American flag and running to kiss me hello. We got a deal?”

“Deal.” She threw his arms around her neck.

He pulled away, his black eyes serious but full of love. “And if something happens to me, Claire, always know that I tried my damnedest to come back to you. You have my heart, my love.”

She had to swallow hard. “You have my heart, too, my love.”

“Good.” He had a catch in his voice, as well. “Very, very good.”

Luc, though. Luc was another story. According to his last e-mail, his team was conducting a major training exercise in the national forest near Ft. Bragg, so she’d have to wait to see him until he had finished.

Despite their physical separation, they had grown closer over the past year, thanks to e-mails and occasional phone calls. He always ended their communications telling her that she had his heart, his special way of telling her he loved her.

Claire grabbed her bags and disembarked. Her father and their housekeeper Louella held a banner.
Welcome home, Claire.
She ran to her father, holding him tight. “Oh, Dad.” She kissed his smoothly shaved cheek and noticed a little more white in his hair. She hoped she hadn’t caused it with her year away.

Louella was next in line for a cushiony embrace, exclaiming how tanned and skinny Claire was, promising to cook her favorite foods to plump her up.

Claire smiled. “I’m so glad to see you both. I can’t wait to get home.”

“We’re glad to see you, too.” Her dad wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Now, before we go, we have a surprise for you.”

“Really? A welcome-home gift?”

“You could call it that.” Dad spun her in a half circle and Luc stepped out from behind a pillar.

Claire covered her mouth in shock and screamed. He wore his dress green uniform, his brand-new Silver Star gleaming above several rows of decoration.

“Welcome back,
cher
.” He opened his arms wide and she sprinted into them, laughing and crying. She dragged his mouth down to hers, the loving touch of his lips like cool, fresh water after a year of thirsting for him. He threaded his fingers into her hair and drank her in, as well.

She could have remained entwined with him forever, but her father’s discreet throat-clearing and Louella’s sentimental sniffs reminded her they stood on the airport concourse. “What are you doing here? I thought you were out in the field.”

“The exercise got canceled last minute and I came to Virginia.”

“You should have called me.” She grabbed his chin and kissed him again.

He pulled away from her. “I had some business to take care of before I could come meet you.” He looked over her shoulder at her father and Louella. “Your papa and I got off on the wrong foot last year, so I wanted to meet him again—and tell him of my intentions.”

“Intentions?”

Then she was the only one standing as he dropped to one knee, still holding tight to her hand. “Claire, your father has given his permission to ask for your hand.” He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a small black box. “Claire, will you marry me?” He pulled out a sparkling white diamond solitaire set in gold.

She covered her mouth again, this time to press back tears of happiness. Instead of putting it on her hand, he tipped up the band so she could read the engraving inside.
“‘Vous et nul autre.’”
She pulled the gold chain out from under her shirt that held the matching ring he’d given her a year earlier. “You and no other, Luc.”

“Oui ou non, béb?”
His eyes twinkled at her. “Will you take this rough Cajun soldier for your husband?”

“Oui.”
He slipped the ring on her fourth finger and she dragged him to his feet for more kisses. “A million times,
oui.”

HER LAST LINE OF DEFENSE

Copyright © 2009 by Marie Donovan.

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