“Let me drive,” Niall said. “You’re in no shape.”
Duncan shook his head. “You shot a man. You need to stay here, control the scene.”
His brother looked distraught. “Yeah. Okay.”
They were on the front porch. Other sirens were closing in now. One of the EMTs was closing the back door; the other, the woman, was inside the ambulance with Jane. The driver leaped in.
“Go,” Niall said roughly, but Duncan turned.
He reached out a hand. Niall’s was slick with blood when it met his but he squeezed tight. “Thank you,” Duncan said roughly.
That was the moment he knew he was crying. He didn’t care, only let go of his brother’s hand and ran for his 4Runner to follow Jane to the hospital.
JANE OPENED HER EYES TO the unexpected sight of white curtains pulled around her bed.
Hospital. Why…? And then she remembered.
She must have made a sound, because suddenly Duncan was standing beside the bed. He looked bad. Every line on his face, and right now there were too many, was worn deep. His eyes were bloodshot. His jaw was dark with evening beard.
“You’re awake.”
She blinked a couple of times. “I’m alive.”
A ragged laugh escaped him. “Yeah. God.”
“It was Niall,” she realized. Her neck didn’t feel so good; she reached up and found a thick dressing on it. Her hand trailed a line…an IV, she saw. Her forehead wrinkled in perplexity. “How… Um, how did he come through the upstairs window?”
Duncan gave a harsh exhalation. “He climbed your house. I guess he saw through the front window that you were starting up the stairs. With the downstairs window frames, the clapboard and the back porch overhang, he said there were enough footholds. He’s done some rock climbing. Even so, I don’t know how the hell he managed it.” He reached over the railing and smoothed hair from her forehead. His hand shook. “I wish you hadn’t had to see…” He stopped. Muscles knotted in his jaw.
“See…?” She thought about it. After a minute, she said, “I didn’t actually see much of anything. I never even saw his face.” It was her turn to brake on a surge of fear. “Where is he?”
“He’s dead. Niall shot him. That’s what I’d rather you hadn’t seen.”
Still, his hand stroked, the rough-gentle pads of his fingertips soothing, pressing. Her eyes drifted closed. That terrible explosion of sound. The rain that had fallen. The stumbling, surreal descent to the floor.
“It was blood,” she whispered, her eyes opening.
“Yes.”
She shuddered, her whole body—toes to a quick chatter of teeth.
“You shouldn’t have been alone.” Torment deepened his voice, darkened his eyes to charcoal. “It was my fault. You wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t been such an idiot. I’m sorrier than I can ever tell you.”
“No.” Tell him. Now. “It was me. Ever since I left, I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain. And…and hoping you’d listen.”
His jaw worked. Those eyes, so full of emotion, held hers. Then he said, “Let me get this railing down.” His hand left off its caressing briefly. With a rattle, he lowered the bed rail and started to drag a chair closer.
“Will you sit here?” Jane tried to smile. She patted next to her. “On the bed?”
His smile wasn’t any better than hers. “I can manage that.” His hip pressed her waist. The fabric of his dark trousers pulled tight across his thigh muscles. His hand found hers and gripped tightly.
“Am I okay?” Jane couldn’t figure out why she didn’t feel worse.
Another shaky laugh. “Yeah. You bled quite a bit. He cut you.” With his other hand, Duncan gently touched the dressing on her throat. “You hit your head when you went down, too. Minor concussion. But you’ll be out of here in the morning, if you feel ready to go.”
But not home. Oh, heavens. Would she ever feel safe in that house again? It had been bad enough after the break-in, after the devastation in her bedroom, but now…
She nodded slightly. “Of course I will.”
“I should call the nurse. They’ll want to know you’ve regained consciousness.”
“I…okay.”
He restored the rail first. She had her temperature taken, lights shone into her eyes, her knees and elbows tapped while her limbs jerked. Eventually the medical personnel went away again.
Duncan drew the curtain closed so that no one passing in the hall could see her bed. Then he lowered the rail again and sat beside her. His hand found hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Shall I get my apologies out first?” he asked.
“No. Let me.” It took her a while. Her voice got hoarse as she talked, telling him about her family. Her mother, a shadow, with no needs or demands or personality of her own. Her father’s thunderous insistence on instant obedience to his dictates. Her own rebellion, begun when she was so young she hardly knew what had motivated it. “I…you flipped all my switches,” she said. “I thought you were like him.”
“Maybe I am.” His shoulders had a rigid set. His hand released hers and he’d managed to erase some of the expression on his face.
“No.” This was the most important thing she had to say. “It took me most of the night to figure out that you’re not anything like my father. It was what Hector said about a man who could only feel big by making other people feel small. That was Dad. You had to be strong because you were needed. Your brothers needed a rock and you provided them with one.” Her lips curved. Maybe this was the wrong moment to tease, but she couldn’t help herself. “It maybe got to be a little too much of a habit.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders and he smiled wryly. “My brothers have suggested as much.”
“You and Niall seem so close in some ways.”
He grimaced. “And in other ways we’re complete strangers. A few weeks ago, I’d have told you that we were barely acquaintances.”
“And now?” Something told her this mattered.
“Now…” He was the one to bend his head this time. She watched him struggle to frame his thoughts. “I suppose we’re brothers.” Duncan sounded surprised. “I didn’t realize how much I trusted him. Tonight—” his voice had become raw “—I had to trust him. I couldn’t have gotten to your house in time.”
She reached for him. Their fingers meshed.
“You did,” she whispered. “You saved me because you saved Niall. You know he became the man he is because of you.”
“Hector said something like that. I’m still not sure I buy it, but—” he cleared his throat “—I think that at least we’re fixing some of the things wrong between us.”
Jane gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m glad.”
“I should let you sleep.” But he didn’t move.
“You’re probably tired.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did, it was a complete non sequitur. “I’m not an easy man.”
Jane’s heart hit a bass beat. “I’m not such an easy woman, either.”
He didn’t give any sign of having heard her. “I don’t know how to be different, Jane.”
Was he saying that he wanted to be? For her sake? Voice thick with hope, she said, “All you have to do is listen to me.”
His eyes met hers. “And what if I don’t? What if I’m afraid for you and think I know best?”
“Then…then I should yell at you and make you listen. Instead of walking out.”
“I love you,” he said hoarsely then visibly braced himself.
Emotion flooded her, honey thick, unfamiliar. She was perilously close to crying. “I never thought…”
He looked wary. “I’d ever be idiot enough to say something like that to you?”
Jane struggled to sit up. As if instinctively, Duncan reached for her. To help her, because that’s what he did.
“That I could love anyone,” she said. “I think I was afraid I’d become like my mother. I’d start agreein
g and conciliating and…lose myself.”
Duncan gave a bark of laughter. “You?”
That was all he had to say. You? As if the idea were ludicrous. And it was, she realized. Tonight she’d realized she wasn’t weak. She’d fought for her life and won. Not alone; maybe she’d have lost if she’d been alone. But she’d done her part. And she hadn’t been alone. If Duncan meant what he was saying, she didn’t have to be alone. It wasn’t so much him she’d been afraid to trust, Jane realized; it was herself.
And…I can. I do.
She was sitting all the way up now, her arms wrapped around Duncan’s torso, her cheek pressed to his neck and jaw. She felt his mouth against her hair. Kissing her.
“I love you,” she said. “So much.”
The strength and ferocity of his grip was all Duncan, the man she knew, but his voice wasn’t. It shook, like his hands had earlier. Jane heard naked vulnerability.
“Don’t make me drop you off at your house. Come home with me. Please, Jane.”
She smiled even as she started to cry. “Yes. I want to.”
“We can rip up the carpet in the spare room. Put in mirrors and bars and whatever you need to dance.”
She gulped and bobbed her head.
He was rubbing his cheek against her, rocking her slightly. “Jane?”
She sniffed and wiped her tears on his T-shirt. “Yes?”
“Do you want children?”
Jane drew away and looked at him. “Don’t you?”
The furrows on his forehead had deepened. “It…never occurred to me. I never expected…” He was obviously bewildered. “I never thought I’d marry. And I…God. I figured I’d be a lousy father.”
Tenderness filled her. “I don’t think you’d be lousy at all. Look at Tito.”
He didn’t appear convinced.
“Although you might want to curb the tendency to snap out orders.”
It was the right thing to say. Duncan laughed. But a moment later, he’d gone solemn again. “I…wouldn’t mind trying. But I don’t know how much I can change.”
“Oh, Duncan.” Tipping her head back to kiss him pulled at the wound on her neck and made her realize that her head throbbed, but she did it, anyway. “You don’t have to change,” she murmured against his mouth.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her, slow and sweet. Loving. And he was smiling when he lifted his mouth. “Easy enough to say now.”
There was that blasted sting in her eyes again. “Just…keep loving me.”
She felt his sigh. The rise and fall of his chest, the stir of air against her skin. He said, “If there’s one thing I am, it’s stubborn. I latch onto an idea, I don’t let it go.”
“And you’ve definitely latched onto me.”
Another rough laugh. He was getting good at laughing, she thought. Doing it more often. Oh, Duncan, who says you can’t change?
“Yep.” His mouth found hers again. It stayed tender; nuzzled, nipped, savored. And the next thing she knew, he was gently easing her against the pillow. The expression on his face was enough to stop her heart. When she first met this man, she’d never have guessed he could look like this: open, warm, affectionate. Defenseless, even as he was harnessing the passion that he felt, too. “I won’t be letting go,” he said. “Except temporarily. You, love, look like hell. I’m going to get off this bed and let you sleep.”
Panic darted through her. Jane refused to give in to it. “You should go home and get some sleep, too,” she said with a smile.
“I may get some sleep, but I’ll be doing it right here.” He kissed her again, softly. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight. I may have to drive you to work and pick you up afterward for a long time to come.”
“What you mean is, you’ll drive me crazy.”
“Yeah.” There was a rueful, almost-but-not-quite-amused tone to his voice. A glint of self-awareness in his not-so-cool gray eyes. “I’m good at that.”
The painkiller they’d given her earlier must be taking effect. Jane felt drowsy and astonishingly at peace. Their hands were still linked, although he’d settled into the chair beside the bed now.
“I’ll yell at you,” she told him, although the words slurred.
“And I’ll listen,” Duncan said, voice a caress.
Smiling, Jane closed her eyes. They were still holding hands when she fell asleep.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781459221086
Copyright © 2012 by Janice Kay Johnson
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Between Love and Duty Page 26
