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Not the most enthusiastic response, but Liam didn’t care about that. He needed to get Cate talking to him again, to find out exactly what she meant about not killing Vishenko when she had the chance. Not just because his curiosity had been piqued, but because he needed to understand. And at the same time, needed to make her understand something important, too.
Not killing someone—not even someone as evil as Vishenko—didn’t make you a coward. Not everyone could kill. Liam didn’t have that strict moral inhibition, but that didn’t mean he took killing lightly. He didn’t.
He’d killed three times now, the last being one of the shooters in the courthouse. The first time he’d taken a human life he’d brooded over it until Alec had forcefully reminded him of what would have happened if he hadn’t done it—that the diplomat he’d been protecting would have been assassinated, and the peace deal the man had been trying to broker would have been destroyed. The second time, Liam had handled on his own. He’d examined his conscience minutely, but had walked away secure in his belief that he’d done the right thing for the innocents involved.
The same went for what he’d done in the courthouse. He regretted the necessity, but he didn’t regret the killing. He was even more convinced now of the rightness of what he’d done than he’d been at the time, because he knew Cate now. Because he knew what she’d suffered at Vishenko’s hands. Because he knew she didn’t deserve to die for trying to put Vishenko behind bars where he belonged.
But, just because he could kill and Cate couldn’t, didn’t make her a coward. He didn’t know the circumstances, for one thing. In a life-or-death situation he could pull the trigger. But a preemptive killing? He didn’t think so. The rule of law had to be the rule of law for everyone, himself included, or society as a whole would crumble.
He watched as Cate sat at the kitchen table, tugged her sneakers back on and tied the laces. Her slender wrists caught his attention as she did that—wrists that bore the evidence of how brave Cate really was. Somehow he had to make her understand.
They walked in silence for a while, uphill mostly, saving their breath for the climb. Occasionally a leafy branch or two from the tall bushes lining the path blocked their way, and Liam did his best to hold them back so Cate would have clear access. He’d chosen this path because he thought he remembered it led to a waterfall, and the faint sound of rushing water in the distance grew louder the farther they went, confirming his hunch. Eventually the path opened up into a rocky clearing at the base of a pristine waterfall, and they both stopped short.
The water wasn’t a rushing torrent, but a steady stream, and as it fell fifty feet and splashed into the basin at the bottom it was even more beautiful than memory had painted it. Cate grasped his arm and said, “Oh, Liam! How lovely!”
“I thought you’d like it.” He deliberately didn’t look down at her hand holding his arm, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she was touching him voluntarily. But just the idea sent a thrill coursing through his body.
The face she turned to him was soft and vulnerable, almost the same way she’d looked sleeping in his arms last night, and her silvery-blue eyes were lit from within. “I do like it. Oh I do.” She faced the waterfall again. “How close can we get? Can we walk behind the falls?”
“If you don’t mind getting wet—and that water is cold—we can walk behind it all the way to the other side. I’ve done it before.”
“Oh let’s do it.” Her excitement was contagious. “I don’t mind getting wet.”
“Take my hand then. The rocks can be slippery.” She hesitated for a second and glanced down, as if she suddenly realized she’d taken hold of his arm as if it came naturally to her. Then she slid her hand in his, and carefully they picked their way across the rocks. Spray from the waterfall hit them occasionally, and Cate squealed like a little girl each time. It made Liam smile, because he’d never seen this youthful side of Cate. Had never known her as anything other than the somewhat somber woman she was now. But at the same time his heart ached that her life for the past nine years had been so restricted, had contained so little fun. She was only twenty-five. Far too young to be so serious.
He led her carefully behind the waterfall, then paused so she could gaze through the cascading water. Viewing the world from the back of the falls was a unique experience. They were both damp from the spray and mist, and—as he’d warned—the water was cold. But Cate didn’t seem to mind, so neither did he. When she turned back and smiled at him, her face aglow, he couldn’t help it—he kissed her. He gently pulled her into his embrace, and when she didn’t resist he kissed her until they were both breathless. Then he brushed the mist from her face and kissed her eyes closed.
