Always a Warrior

by Patricia Bruening

"But you don't have to...."

  "No buts,” he interrupted firmly, his finger across her lips. “This is what I want."

  He hesitated as he gazed into her eyes. His expression softened even more. A soft light entered his eyes and lessened the intensity. There was desire in those dark eyes and something else—something she had not dared to hope for.

  "I love you,” he finally continued softly. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you—and Stacy."

  She blinked against sudden tears of sheer joy but her vision blurred. Her heart lurched at finally hearing those words. No one had ever said them to her. Her hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders. His finger moved from her lips, slid along the curve of her jaw.

  "Is it impossible?” he whispered, a twinge of uncertainty in his tone.

  She shook her head slightly. “No. I love you, Damien. I'd give my soul to spend my life with you. But I want you to be happy."

  "I will be,” he asserted quietly but firmly. “As long as I have you.” He cupped her face in his hands, peered intently, almost desperately, into her eyes. “Marry me."

  Her breath caught in her throat. Tears spilled over her lashes and her chin trembled. She bit her lip to quell the urge to cry out.

  "Yes.” It was a barely audible whisper as she lay her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, held her close in her brightly lit kitchen. One arm around his neck, the other on his shoulder, she listened to his rapid heartbeat gradually slow to its normal rhythm. He shifted, dug a hand into his pocket.

  "Forgot something,” he murmured huskily. “Close your eyes."

  She jerked her head up and looked into his eyes. “Don't be silly. What did you forget?"

  "Close your eyes,” he ordered playfully. Mischief mingled with the serious glint in his eyes.

  "All right,” she said and lowered her lashes.

  She sat in his lap, felt him hot and hard beneath her but struggled to ignore desire. He lifted her hand to his lips in a tear-jerking tender caress. One at a time, his tongue stroked her fingertips.

  A soft sigh shuddered from her and her heart melted all over again. Round cold metal slid over the third finger of her left hand. She forgot to breathe. She lifted her lashes slowly to stare down at her hand resting on his chest. His hand covered hers, leaving her fingers pale against his black T-shirt.

  On her finger, the ring gleamed bright in t he glare of the kitchen light. Small diamonds glittered and twinkled around the shiny emerald. The platinum band set it off perfectly. Emerald green sparkled and winked at her.

  "I.... “Emotion clogged her throat, robbed her of speech.

  She lifted her hand to the curve of his jaw, the emerald winking against his tanned skin as she met his hungry gaze. It was stark desire tempered by love.

  "Like it?” he asked lightly.

  Unable to speak, she leaned closer and covered his mouth with hers as the tears flowed. She had never been this happy in her life. Her lips moved over his, her tongue tracing his lips slowly, erotically, before slipping inside to savor the mingled tastes of coffee and Damien. She finally drew back, lifted her gaze to his and gave him tremulous smile.

  "I guess you do like it,” he surmised gently, his eyes tender. He glanced at the ring then back at her. “I love you—always."

  Winding her arms around his neck, she snuggled closer and replied huskily. “I love you—always."

  Her heart soared but her brain wondered what Damien would do without the SEALS.

  * * * *

  Two days later, Laurie stood in her front yard and waved at Damien as he left on his motorcycle. Stacy ran up and tugged impatiently on her hand.

  "Is he really coming back?” she demanded with the exuberance of the very young. “And be my Daddy?"

  "Yes, Stacy.” Laurie looked down at her very excited daughter and laughed softly. “He's really coming back to be your Daddy."

  "Good. I never had a Daddy before.” Stacy's eyes sparkled with pure delight.

  Laurie banished the slight twinge of guilt and smiled. “You'll have one now."

  She led Stacy back into the house, her thoughts already focused on the hundreds of things she needed to do and plan in the next few weeks. Ecstatic, she hugged herself tightly. She was in love. She was getting married. She would finally have the real family she had deep down wanted since she was younger than Stacy.

  She couldn't wait to see the look on her mother's face. Marjorie had badgered her for years to find some nice, rich young man and get married. Laurie knew, however, that her mother would not approve. In fact, she would be appalled. But even her mother's predicted disapproval did not lessen the anticipation. Laurie settled into her recliner with pen and notepad to plan her wedding.

  Damien had left the details to her but agreed to her suggestion of a small, intimate, informal gathering rather than a big splashy affair that would not suit either of them. After scribbling a very basic list, she gave in to her urges and dropped the notepad. She grabbed the nearest phone and dialed her mother's number. Since her mother, naturally, did not answer the phone, Laurie was forced to leave a message. But she took a perverse satisfaction in imagining her mother's shock when she heard the message. Grinning, Laurie returned to her wedding plans.

  As expected Marjorie Crawford was not at all pleased. She thought her daughter a fool to marry a man like Damien. She declared as much the next day when she entered Laurie's house as though it was her own.

  "After all, he's only a soldier.” She sniffed haughtily as she perched on the edge of the sofa.

  Laurie barely managed not to squirm under Marjorie's cold disapproval. She refused to allow her mother to spoil her happiness.

  "The military doesn't pay much,” Marjorie continued sternly, her eyes like glaciers. “No, I think you had better change your plans. Tell this McAllister the wedding is off."

  Laurie clamped her lips together to keep her jaw from dropping. The very notion that Marjorie expected her to drop her plans, and Damien, just because she ordered it was positively ludicrous.

  "You're kidding, right?” Laurie choked on sarcastic laughter. “You honestly expect me to call off my wedding just because you say so?"

  Marjorie stood up, looked down her nose until her arctic glare met Laurie's. Laurie shifted uncomfortably in the recliner.

  "Of course I do,” Marjorie stated as though the issue was settled. “Since you finally want to get married, I'll introduce to several suitable young men who will be well able to take care of you and Stacy."

  As shock drained the blood from her head, Laurie simply gaped at her mother. Shock faded, replaced by blazing fury. All trace of polite behavior vanished as Laurie abruptly stood up and glared down at her mother.

  "I haven't followed your orders since I graduated high school,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “What the hell makes you think I'll do it now?"

  Laurie noted with a sense of savage satisfaction that Marjorie actually took a step back. Damien was right all those months ago, Laurie realized. She had made her own life. No one did it for her.

  "Get this straight, Mother,” she continued stonily. “Don't ever forget it. This is my life not yours. You made that quite plain to me years ago. I will not change my plans on your orders. I am not getting married just because I have decided I want a husband. I am marrying Damien because I love him."

  She paused then drew in a deep breath and plunged on before Marjorie had a chance to retort. “I most certainly would not allow you, of all people, to pick a man for me—not after what you picked for yourself."

  She had the satisfaction of seeing Marjorie blanch at the forced memory of Nathaniel, the traitor.

  "You wouldn't know a real man if you saw one,” Laurie stated firmly. “I don't need a rich husband. I take care of Stacy and myself just fine. Don't you dare, at this late stage, tell me how to live. I won't stand for it. Now, you can be part of my wedding to the man I love or you can go to hell!"

  Marjorie looked shocked for a moment but
recovered quickly, regally. “How dare you talk to me like that? I raised you never to speak to your elders in that manner."

  Laurie had to admire her mother's ability to convey so well the image of being insulted beyond belief. Marjorie drew herself up to her diminutive five feet two inches. Despite the fact that she had to look up, Marjorie looked like she was about to have a minion beheaded.

  "I know why my father left,” Laurie declared cruelly in an attempt to crack that icy demeanor. “You would drive away a saint. Get out of my life, mother, and stay out."

  Laurie stalked to the front door and defiantly held it open. There was no mistaking the pointed gesture. Marjorie harrumphed and sniffed disdainfully, her nose in the air as she sailed regally through the door. She turned on the doorstep, a fierce warning in her eyes.

  "You'll regret this when that man ruins your life. Don't come running to me. I won't be there."

  "Don't worry, mother. If I was dying I wouldn't ask you for one last breath,” Laurie shot back and viciously slammed the door in Marjorie's face.

  Jesus! She fumed, her hands curled into fists she barely refrained from putting through her wall.

  "God, that woman pisses me off,” she muttered and shook her head in frustration and anger.

  Laurie simply did not understand the ice queen who had given birth to her. She certainly had no idea how she turned out so different. But under the fury, even after years of rebellion, lay a deep disappointment in her mother's constant disapproval. Even now, at almost thirty years old, it still hurt deeply that her mother had no respect, no love, for her. Why had Marjorie even bothered giving birth to a child she so obviously did not want? And what of her father—what part had he played in this family farce—beyond the obvious, of course?

  Deliberately, Laurie pushed it all aside and dived into her wedding plans. Her so-called family was not important. Damien and their life together deserved all of her time and attention. Part of that planning concerned the invitations waiting on her desk to be mailed. Only family and a few friends made the guest list. Though he had given her the addresses of his relatives, Damien had not expressed any enthusiasm that any of them would bother to attend.

  Laurie frowned as she loaded clothes into the washer a few days after her mother had stormed out of her life. Did Damien have the same nonexistent relationship with his family? Most of them lived less than an hour away but he rarely mentioned them and, to her knowledge, never called or visited. He clearly expected his family to disappoint him.

  In her office, Laurie pushed aside her thoughts as she clicked the mouse twice. She entered her access code and in minutes had connected to the Internet, her mind tumbling around various ideas for several story plots. Cyberspace saved her countless hours of library work and tedious waiting periods for unavailable books. She primarily used the Internet for research and e-mail. Out of curiosity, she searched for information on Navy SEALs.

  Early that evening she left Stacy in the living room with her favorite dinner—grilled cheese sandwiches and potato chips, and her favorite video. Though pleased with her progress after a week of detailed planning, Damien's continued absence worried her. All sorts of troublesome scenarios chased circles in her mind as she undressed in the bathroom off her bedroom.

  Hot water ran in the tub, almost hot enough to steam up the room. She poured in a generous amount of bubble bath, letting the foamy water almost reach the top of the tub before she turned off the water. Needing to relax, she stepped into the tub and settled in until bubbles and water covered her from neck to toes. Eyes closed, she leaned her head back and dreamed of the future.

  Without conscious effort, she saw Damien behind her closed eyelids. Her heart still carried a mental picture of Damien drawing pictures with Stacy at the table in his cabin. Other images of that week slipped into her mind. A contented but longing sigh escaped from her as she slowly opened her eyes—and choked back a startled cry.

  Damien stood just inside the bathroom door as though she had conjured him out of her thoughts. Stark hunger darkened his eyes as his gaze raked over her. Her jaw dropped and she gawked breathlessly at him. She had not heard him at all. She sat bolt upright and water sloshed over the side of the tub. Realizing she was naked, her face heated and she sank back under the bubbles. Water lapped at her chin but she could not drag her eyes from him.

  "You can't hide from me,” he teased huskily as he reached behind him and closed the door. “I've seen it all."

  Memories blazed in his eyes and sparked her desire but her cheeks burned at being caught completely naked. The fact that he was fully dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt put a flutter in her stomach. Though he looked good enough to eat, she blushed even harder at the erotic memories flitting through her mind and tried to scrape together the scattered fragments of her composure.

  "How did you get in here?” A curious mixture of desire and embarrassment had her breathless.

  "You gave me the key when I left,” he reminded her with a knowing smirk.

  "Oh.” Uncomfortable in her naked disadvantage, she gnawed on her lower lip as he crossed the small bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. She swallowed hard and dropped her unsteady gaze from his.

  "Uh—uh,” she stammered and cursed her sudden inexplicable shyness. She had been naked in his arms countless times. She was not a prude. But having him surprise her while she sat naked in the tub disconcerted her.

  "What's wrong?” he demanded without the teasing note.

  "You startled me. I need to get dressed,” she murmured shakily.

  "I'm not stopping you."

  Her gaze flew back to him. A slow smile of anticipation curved his lips. Amusement mingled with the hunger in his eyes as he stood and grabbed a large fluffy towel from the rack over the toilet.

  "Come out.” He lowered his voice to a soft drawl. “I dare you."

  Unable to resist a challenge, she let out a slow breath, gripped the metal bar along the wall, and stood up. Water and thick bubbles slid over her skin, leaving her body wet and gleaming. Air much cooler than the water pebbled her nipples in hard peaks. She heard his low groan and met his dark gaze. If there had been hunger in his eyes before, he was starving now. Slowly, as though savoring his favorite meal, he devoured her with his gaze and wrapped the towel around her. She held it secure over her breasts and shot an expectant glance at him.

  "What?” he asked as though coming out of a trance.

  "You're blocking the door,” she said with a teasing smirk, well pleased with her ability to make him want her.

  "So I am,” he acknowledged softly but made no effort to move. “I want you,” he whispered huskily. “I'm hungry. Get dressed."

  He reached back with one hand and opened the bathroom door. His other hand remained fisted around the edges of the towel, above her breasts.

  Heart pounding, she blinked, certain he had been about to ravish her. “What?"

  "I'm hungry. I want to take you to dinner."

  "Dinner?” she echoed, baffled.

  He used the towel to pull her flush against him. Desire shot straight through her. She clutched his shoulders for support, thrilled at the heat of him.

  "Yes,” he drawled thickly. “But I want the appetizer first."

  He lowered his mouth to hers, and ravished. Stunned by the force of his need, she parted her lips to his tongue's swift entry and savored every nuance of his drugging kisses. When he finally dragged his mouth from hers, she staggered.

  "Remember where we left off.” With that gruff command, he turned and left her alone in the bathroom.

  Stunned breathless, Laurie wandered blindly into her bedroom. Forcing her mind off the desire that burned in her gut, she rummaged in her closet.

  "Dinner out,” she mused. “A date.” Her heart lurched at the idea. They had not actually gone out on a date before.

  "Okay,” she murmured unsteadily, fingering various articles of clothing. “Okay."

  Never one to spend a lot of time getting dressed, she went dow
nstairs twenty minutes later but lingered uncertainly in the living room entrance. She wore an emerald green spaghetti strap cocktail dress and black heels. Black pearls dangled from her ears. Her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Damien's casual wandering gaze caught hers and his eyes widened in shock.

  "You are gorgeous,” he said slowly as he stood up from the sofa.

  He looked stunned. He had never seen her in anything but jeans. Self-conscious because she rarely dressed up for anything, she fidgeted with one of the thin straps holding the silky dress on her shoulders.

  "Thank you.” The words emerged in a deep sensual murmur that surprised her.

  "You look great, Mommy!” Stacy piped up excitedly. “So does Damien."

  As her gaze roamed over her fiancé, Laurie had to agree with her daughter. He had taken the time to change clothes and the result robbed her of breath. He wore black trousers, a white dress shirt, and a black dinner jacket like he was born to it. He looked as comfortable as he did in jeans and his Navy uniform. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  His ‘appetizing’ kiss still lingered on her lips. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to take his clothes off and have her wicked way with him. The answering flare in his eyes said he wanted to do the same to her.

  "Well,” she said breathlessly. “You certainly clean up well.” She cringed at how ridiculous that sounded.

  He grinned and took her hand, lifted it to brush his lips over her knuckles. Her heart fluttered at the courtly gesture. That latent romantic streak in him often surprised her but always enchanted her because it was so unexpected.

  After dropping Stacy at her friend's house to spend the night, Damien drove Laurie to an elegant Chinese restaurant in Benson, half an hour away. She admired the ease with which he drove her convertible. His skill with a standard transmission did not surprise her. More than likely, he drove any vehicle well. One hand controlled the steering wheel while the other rested on the gearshift.

  He found a parking space in front of the restaurant, shut off the engine, and then reached across her to grab the door handle before she could open it herself. His arm slid, slow and deliberate, over her breasts as he shoved the door open. She caught the knowing gleam in his eyes and arched an eyebrow.