Chapter 28

Two hours later in Calum’s apartment, after showering and changing into yoga pants, a cami, and a zippered sweatshirt, Juliet said, “Thank you, Calum,” and hung up.

She leaned back in the window seat and watched Rafe make dinner in the galley kitchen. He cooked on a camping stove because the power was still out. Clouds hid the cathedral’s steeple while candles cast an intimate glow.

She opened the window even more, hoping for a breeze. Without AC, the humid air settled on everything, and the night-blooming jasmine plant on the kitchen table filled the room with a sensual fragrance. At least the thunderstorm had moved on. In the distance, police and fire truck lights flashed.

According to the news on Calum’s shortwave radio, some citizens had taken advantage of the outage. That’s why Rafe had insisted they go back to the apartment instead of staying at the hospital. Here he had weapons.

Her father’s duffel bag was near the couch between Antoine’s Tailoring shopping bags. When they’d returned from the hospital, they’d grabbed her gun from her apartment, adding it to her father’s armory. She hoped they wouldn’t need it.

Rafe put bowls of soup on the table bordering the kitchen and family room. He’d showered and changed into black sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He added spoons and napkins. “What did Calum say?”

She stretched her aching muscles. “Philip is sleeping. After stitching him up, they gave him pain meds. He’ll stay in the hospital until tomorrow and should be fine as long as there’s no infection. Did you talk to Pops?”

“Yes. I told him not to drive tonight. He’ll come tomorrow to take Philip back to the Isle to recuperate.”

“Calum offered his house. He said both Pops and Philip can stay as long as they want.”

Rafe brought over a plate of buttered bread. “I’ll let him know. And Carina?”

“No internal bleeding, but she has a mild concussion.”

“And Miss Nell?”

Juliet rubbed her forehead. She wanted to forget seeing Miss Beatrice’s broken body, but the image of Nate carrying her downstairs would remain. “Calum was with Miss Nell when she ID’d the body. She had to be sedated, and he made sure they admitted her to the hospital. He didn’t want her to be alone.”

Rafe took Juliet in his arms. She fit so easily, tucked beneath his chin with his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest. He’d insisted she pack a few things and stay with him. He didn’t want her to be alone in the dark, and she didn’t want that either. Since the apartment was bigger, with two bedrooms, it made sense.

“You hungry?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t eaten dinner, and the dull feeling from the wine had left, but now she was shaky and nauseated. “I’m jittery. Like I want to run a mile, then throw up and fall asleep.”

He led her to the table. “Adrenaline. You’re withdrawing from it.”

She sat and unfolded a napkin. “Do you have a reaction to adrenaline?”

“Everyone does.” He brought over two glasses of water. “I’ve been trained to control my reaction so I can redirect the physical response.”

“Did you learn that while working for the Prince?”

He glanced at her before taking his own seat. “Basic training.”

“Oh.” She took a sip of soup and closed her eyes. Canned tomato soup. The best thing she’d had in a long time. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She played with her soup, taking a few sips, gathering her courage. “Was working for the Prince like being on an A-team?”

He took a drink of water, as if biding time. “No. The army has one goal: to defend the U.S. Constitution. Everything I did with my A-team supported that goal. It was different with the Prince. Every rule, every decision had another purpose. Our missions were more intense, all our senses always heightened. We memorized poetry, spoke in rhyme, and, yes, trained naked in the woods in the middle of winter. There was no rest, no peace. That was the point.”

“What do you mean?”

He took her left hand and rubbed her bare finger where a gold ring once marked her as his. “The men who work for the Prince are lost to this world. Their hearts broken by loss and despair, their souls damaged by years of combat and violence. With the sheer amount of physical and mental work required, there was no time to wallow in grief or self-pity. We were the perfect soldiers.”

“Were you lost when you chose the Prince over me and your men?”

“I didn’t choose the Prince. He chose me.”

“You went AWOL to join his army.”

Rafe’s spoon hovered. He didn’t seem that hungry either. “I left the unit against orders to look for a missing man. That’s not the same as going AWOL.”

“Not according to the U.S. Army.”

He shrugged. “I never found the man and ended up in the Fianna.”

“Did you know they might’ve killed your momma?”

He clutched the spoon with a white-knuckled hold, and the veins in his forearm bulged. “I knew it was a possibility. It was one of the reasons I joined. To find out the truth.” He went back to eating soup and drinking water. He’d shut down and closed her out.

She still had so many questions. “Was working for the Prince worse than prison?”

Rafe took two more slices of bread, and said, “Prison, while horrible, was a penance of the mind. I was alone with myself, but I also knew I was doing no harm.” He dipped his spoon in his soup again and stirred. “In some ways, it was a relief.”

“Oh.” They ate in silence until her throat closed. As hungry as she was, she had trouble eating. She tore a piece of bread, but it tasted dry. She drank water until her hands shook and the water spilled. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. What is wrong with me?

She felt his heat first, and then his hands on her shoulder. He was behind her, his fingers rubbing her shoulders and her neck. His hands worked the knots until her toes curled and she sighed. She’d forgotten how strong his hands were. How safe he made her feel.

She opened her eyes, and everything tightened again. “Please stop.”

He did. Except, instead of moving away, he took her hand and led her to the window seat overlooking the city. After covering her with a throw blanket, he left.

Her eyelids carried weights, but she couldn’t sleep. She heard him in the kitchen, cleaning up, banging cabinets. He returned with a cup of chamomile tea.

“What are the chances of Calum stocking your favorite tea in one of many apartments he doesn’t use?”

She sipped and settled against a pillow. The hot water eased the pain in her joints, and the chamomile calmed her restless mind. “When Calum has had enough of managing this city to his satisfaction, he invites me over for tea and jam tarts.”

“You always were his best friend.”

“So were you. Calum looked up to you, and you protected him.”

Rafe sat across from her, one leg propped up on the seat. He exuded a fierce masculinity with no effort. He was, and always had been, confident in himself and his abilities. Even in bed.

Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks. She studied her teacup. “I’m not a good enough friend for him to lend me the money to solve this financial mess.”

“You asked him?”

“Yes.” She shifted when Rafe took part of her blanket and covered his legs up to his waist. His knee was pressed against her thigh. “Calum said I had everything I needed to fix it myself.”

Rafe studied her with half-closed eyes. “He wants us back together.”

“Calum wouldn’t force that on us. Not after all the pain.”

Rafe laughed. “Calum is all about the pain. Look at his relationship with Carina.”

“What Calum wants doesn’t matter. All I want is to find your vial and my grants.”

Rafe’s eyebrows took a downward turn. “Are you really selling your land?”

She took another sip. “John Sinclair has a buyer willing to pay cash.”

“Why would you give up your inheritance? Your family’s legacy?”

“You’ve seen the manor. You know about the murders. Anne’s curse. Those windows.”

Rafe took her free hand and put it on his knee so his thumb could rub her palm. “You belong there. In a home where you can raise your children, build a garden worthy of your talent. You deserve to break the cycle of poverty and sadness that’s held your land captive for centuries.”

“It would take a fortune to rebuild the manor, put in roads and the other things that would make it suitable for a family.”

“If it could be done, would you do it?” He squeezed her fingers, and she noticed his bare ring finger on his left hand and the blue ribbon around his wrist.

Her wedding band was hidden in her jewelry box. Did he still have his?

She yanked her hand away, put her teacup on the floor, and buried herself in the blanket. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Not true. I remember sitting on your balcony while you told me what you’d do to the manor if you could. Modern bathrooms, a kitchen with marble countertops, a glass-walled conservatory. You had sketchbooks filled with garden ideas.”

She pulled her knees up, dragging the blanket and exposing Rafe’s legs again. Along with the erection tenting his sweatpants. She buried her face in the fleece. How could it already smell like him? “I wanted a parterre garden in the back with that thousand-year-old yew tree in the center, a vegetable-and-herb garden near the kitchen. I’d turn the back meadow into a wildflower garden and build a greenhouse.”

“Don’t forget the formal rose garden.”

She raised her head and met his gaze. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to hide his reaction to her. Even when his arousal jumped, he didn’t break eye contact. He was as confident about how much he wanted her as he’d always been. “The property is wild. The manor isn’t restorable. It would take Calum’s fortune to make it a home.”

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest, and even though he had on a long-sleeved shirt, she noticed the muscles shifting beneath. He was more comfortable with his own strength than any man she’d ever known. The epitome of a man physically at peace with himself. “I’ve never known you to give up on anything.”

“I’m being realistic. The only thing I can save now is my business. It feeds me. It keeps a roof over my head and allows me to hire people who also need jobs. I never again want to rely on others for my own safety and survival. I also love it. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. The only thing I’ve ever dreamed of.”

His gaze dipped. “What about children?”

She pressed a hand against her stomach. She’d wanted babies. As well as a loving husband who’d never abandon her. “I gave up on that eight years ago.”

“You could’ve remarried.”

The clouds parted, and she searched for the hidden moon; instead she saw the rising Pegasus constellation. “I still can.”

The silence between them felt strained, maybe because he was sitting still. Her whole life, he’d been a mover. A man of action who could never just be.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said, “and I can’t hear the birds.”

“It’s nighttime.”

His gaze shifted to the cathedral’s steeple. “It’s just a saying.”

“A Fianna thing?”

He chuckled. “A Gerald thing. When I was ten, he caught me hunting near the cemetery. He came up behind me and lectured me about protecting my perimeter. Then he talked about listening for the birds.”

“I didn’t know that.” Rafe rarely spoke about her daddy. “What does it mean?”

“When you’re in a new situation, listen for the local sounds. City noises could be car horns, vendors, airplanes. In the woods, it’s the wind in the trees and the animals. Specifically, the birds. That way, when those sounds change, you’ll know something’s wrong. Like now. It’s midnight, and I don’t hear the church bells.”

She followed his gaze. He was right.

They sat next to each other for a few minutes until he asked, “What happened to you after I left? After you got my letter?”