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"You've thought about it, too, Cage. I know you have. What was it like right before he died? Was he tortured? Was he frightened? Was he—"
He laid his finger along her lips, stilling them. "Sure I've thought about it. And I think Hal must have faced it bravely. He had unshakable faith. He was doing what he felt led to do. I don't think that faith would have deserted him, no matter what."
"You admired him," she whispered with sudden insight.
He looked chagrined. "Yes, I did. Our reactions to circumstances were always different. I was violent, Hal was peaceable. Maybe it takes more courage to be meek and docile than it does to be a hell-raiser."
Without thinking, she reached up and laid her hand along his cheek. "He admired you, too."
"Me?" he asked incredulously.
"For your defiance, grit, whatever you want to call it."
"Maybe," Cage said pensively. "I'd like to think so." He replaced the sheet over her shoulders and patted it into place. "Get some sleep." He turned off the lamp and hesitated only a moment before bending down and pecking a brotherly kiss on her forehead.
He moved the only moderately comfortable chair in the room to the window and settled into it. The day had taken its toil. In minutes both of them were asleep.
* * *
"What was that?" Jenny bolted upright in the bed. The room was dark, but bright light flashed periodically at the unfamiliar window.
Cage whirled around at her fearful exclamation and crossed to the bed quickly. "It's all right, Jenny." He sat down and tried to ease her back onto the pillows, but she was rigid. "It's several miles away. It's been going on for about half an hour. I'm sorry it woke you."
"It's not thunder," she said hoarsely.
He paused before saying, "No."
"It's fighting."
"Yes."
"Oh, Lord." She covered her face with her hands and fell back against the pillows. "I hate this place. It's dirty and hot and they kill people here. Good people, beautiful people like Hal. I want to go home," she cried. "I'm scared and I hate myself for being scared. But I can't help it."
"Ah, Jenny."
Cage lay down beside her and rolled her against him, holding her close. "The fighting is far away. Tomorrow morning we'll leave and you won't ever have to think about Monterico again. In the meantime, I'm here with you."
His fingers combed through her hair to massage her scalp, as though to press the reassuring words into her brain. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head and planted a fervent kiss there. "I won't let anything hurt you. God, as long as I'm alive, nothing will hurt you."
She took comfort from his words and the husky, soothing voice that kept repeating them. His physical strength was like a lifeline that she clung to. When he propped his back against the headboard and pulled her across his chest, she didn't resist but curled up against him, instinctively craving contact with another being who was larger and stronger.
Her fingers wove through the thick mat of hair on his chest and she pressed her cheek against the muscled wall. Her other arm hugged his waist tight as she burrowed beneath the shelter of his securing arms.
He held her in a close embrace, whispering the promises she was desperate to hear. Cage's mind wasn't on what he said, but on the precious feel of her lying against him.
Her slip showed up smooth and pale in the dark room. The lace-trimmed silk dipped at her waist and molded over the tantalizing curve of her hip. Her breasts felt soft and feminine against his chest.
Frequently a tremor rippled through her and he would kiss her hair while his hands caressed her bare shoulders. He marveled over the smoothness of her skin and tried to keep his touch impersonal.
Then she slept. He could tell by the even, warm breathing that sifted through his chest hair. And, when in sleep, she moved one leg to cover his shin, he ground his head against the headboard. Her thigh rested atop his, her knee almost nudging the fly of his trousers. He clenched his teeth against the desire that knifed through him. He stared at her hand where it lay in repose on his lap. His need for her to touch him was so profound, it almost killed him. Yet if she had, he probably would have died in a spasm of agony and ecstasy anyway.
He listened to the rumbling echoes of the distant battle until all was still again. He watched the dawn creep over the eastern horizon. And still he held her, Hal's fiancée.
But his love.
* * *
Chapter 5
