Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier

by Jennifer Morey

  Rudy opened the door for Sabine and she entered. The interior was longer than it was wide, with windows along the back that had a view of a rocky shoreline. Dark wood tables with white tablecloths and miniature vases of white flowers filled the space between. The hum of conversation joined the clang of dishes, and the smell was divine. Sabine inhaled a full breath to savor it for a while.

  Rudy leaned close. “It’s called a psarotavérna. A taverna that serves fish.”

  “It smells like heaven.”

  “Welcome, welcome.” The woman they’d first seen when they’d arrived in the village came forward, her wrinkled face smiling. She wore a red embroidered dress with gold chains hanging from her neck. Her hair was white and in a bun.

  “This must be your lovely wife.” The woman hooked her arm with Sabine’s. “I am Theodosia,” the woman said, leading them past tables of Greek-speaking patrons.

  At a table in the corner, intimate and lit with a candle, Theodosia let go of Sabine, who sat and watched Rudy do the same across from her.

  “Enjoy.” Theodosia beamed.

  Rudy said something in Greek that made her smile wider and laugh as she turned away.

  “She’s very friendly,” Sabine commented.

  Rudy scowled. “Too friendly. Maybe we should have gone somewhere else.”

  “We’re the Harveys, remember?” She laughed a little, beginning to enjoy this.

  He grunted and turned to the menu.

  The tension on his face dimmed her playfulness. Did he regret bringing her here? Why had he taken the chance? She was afraid to guess. Why had she agreed to go with him? The answer sobered her. They were both too interested in each other.

  A waitress arrived at their table and filled two glasses of water. “You ready, no?”

  Rudy ordered. Sabine didn’t understand a word he said, but when the waitress left the table, she assumed he’d ordered for both of them.

  “What are we having?” she asked.

  “Octopus pilaf.”

  He grinned at her questioning expression, all his tension evaporating.

  “Never had it?” he asked.

  She smiled and both felt and saw him notice. “No, but I love seafood.”

  “Me, too.” He looked at her in a way that she shouldn’t have liked, but oh, how she liked it. The heat and vitality of him warmed her.

  One glass of wine arrived at the table. The waitress put it in front of her.

  “Aren’t you having any?” she asked Rudy when the waitress left.

  He shook his head. “I don’t drink.”

  The way he said it made her wonder. “Because your job requires it?”

  “No. When you grow up with a drunk for a father, alcohol loses its appeal.”

  She lifted the glass of wine and sipped, thinking he had not meant to reveal so much feeling and not wanting to let on that she’d noticed. “Where is your father now?”

  He met her gaze as she lowered the glass. At first, she didn’t think he was going to answer, but it turned out there was too much emotion simmering in him.

  “He lives in a low-income housing project with his crack-smoking girlfriend,” he said, his tone laced with bitterness and sarcasm.

  “Do you ever see him?” she asked, keeping her tone unassuming.

  “No. I gave that up the day I left home, when I was sixteen.”

  “How do you know he has a girlfriend, then?”

  “Every now and then I give in to the hope that he’s changed and call.”

  Sabine met his gaze for a while. It hurt him to see his father like that. Had his upbringing motivated him to do what he did for a living? Maybe if he saved enough people, he could make up for not being able to save his father.

  “My mother died when I was very young. He never got over it,” Rudy added.

  “He must have loved her very much.”

  “Too much. It’s what destroyed him.”

  Sabine covered her inward response with another sip of wine. Maybe that’s what had turned him into an adrenaline junky. He didn’t want to end up like his father. What better way to accomplish that than always being on the go? Never home. Avoiding relationships that would make him feel too much.

  She wondered if her father had had a similar experience that had turned him against commitment to a woman. When she realized she didn’t know anything about his childhood, a spark of anger pushed the soft thought aside.

  “Is that why you do what you do?” she asked a little harsher than she intended. “Do you feel safer when you conquer and control?”

  “My father was a bad role model, and I was never close to him. Luckily, I had an uncle who cared what happened to me. He’s the reason I do what I do.”

  His answer nipped her anger short. She hadn’t expected him to reveal yet another detail about himself. Curiosity won over her defenses. “Your uncle is like a father to you?”

  Pride and love softened his magnificent eyes. “He’s an amazing man. Well liked by everyone, both in his hometown and in the military, even though he’s retired. He taught me the importance of standing up for values. For country. For freedom. Fighting for what you believe in. Honor. Humanity. Integrity. All that. He retired a good man with a stellar reputation. I want that. I want to be able to look back on my life when I’m an old man and not feel like I could have done more.”

  “So your uncle was in the military.” And so was he, if she understood his meaning. She didn’t want to acknowledge it could be true, that he was nothing like her father. It would be too much of a risk, allowing herself to believe she could trust a man like him. Someone with secrets.

  Instead of responding, his eyes went blank, the window to the man inside shut tight. Now that, she thought resentfully, was exactly like her father.

  “Did my father hire you?” she asked.

  “What kind of man would your father hire?” he answered with a question.

  She let him get away with it. “Murderers. Men with no conscience.”

  “Is that how you think of your father?”

  “It’s what he is.”

  “A murderer.”

  She didn’t reply.

  “What does he do?”

  “Don’t you already know?”

  He waited.

  “He owns a private military company. He loves the thrill. The danger of going into a third-world country for the sole purpose of killing, teaching others to kill and pilfering the civilization while he’s at it.”

  “You know an awful lot about him for someone who grew up fatherless.”

  Catching the meaning of his leading comment—that maybe she was exaggerating the truth out of spite—she said, “My mother told me about him when I asked.”

  “She told you he was a mercenary?”

  “He was.”

  “Pilfering and killing.”

  She turned her head away, unable to deny emotion might be clouding her judgment.

  “I know what it’s like to grow up with a parent you feel doesn’t love you,” he said, bringing her gaze back to him. “So I suppose I can’t blame you for the way you feel.”

  “I didn’t grow up with my father around. My mother raised me. The great Noah Page came around often enough, but only for sex. My mother wanted more. He promised more every time, but in the end he always left. He was incapable of loving one woman, giving his whole heart to her. And the thrill of his job was always more important.”

  Rudy lifted his glass of water and drank, watching her over its rim.

  “Does that sound familiar?” she taunted.

  He lowered the glass of water. “Are you asking if I’m incapable of loving only one woman?”

  He must know she wasn’t, but she decided to play along. “Are you?”

 
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  His gaze intensified, not letting hers go and reaching deep into her, infusing her with the growing strength of their attraction. “She’d have to be one hell of a woman, Ms. Hydrogeologist Who Went to Afghanistan to Make More Money and See Interesting Places.”

  The sting of his reply ricocheted through her. His meaning was too clear. To all appearances, she went for thrills just like him and her father.

  But until her kidnapping, she’d been living a lie. She’d been living to please others. And judging by Rudy’s remark, he liked that she seemed to be a thrill chaser. Would he still hold her in such high esteem if he knew she wasn’t that woman anymore? That Afghanistan had ripped her eyes open so she could finally see and accept the truth? She didn’t know what she was going to do with her life now. She just had to find herself again, the part of her buried beneath years of identifying herself through achievements.

  Upset, she turned her head and looked out the panel of windows along the rear of the taverna.

  Rudy’s hand slid over hers on the tabletop. Sabine looked down at his masculine hand covering hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She raised her eyes. “For what?”

  “For putting that look in your eyes.”

  The gruff sound of his voice set off warnings in her head. If this night lasted too long, she wasn’t sure she could resist wherever it led.

  Rudy paid for their dinner, and the walk back to the pension was charged with unspoken tension.

  * * *

  Dim light from a paraffin lamp reflected on the knife blade. Then shiny metal grew bloody, spreading as if through soaked cotton. She closed her eyes. A man standing guard over her pummeled the butt of his rifle against her head.

  “Open your eyes!” he shouted in the language she now detested.

  She opened her eyes. The guard gripped her chin and jerked her head toward the wooden table where Samuel lay tied and writhing. She wailed and shut her eyes.

  “Open your eyes!” the guard shouted louder.

  She couldn’t.

  Samuel screamed in pain and she screamed with him. Another blow to her head made her dizzy. She opened her eyes.

  The scene blurred. Mercy. But not for long. The monster was near.

  She watched, terror a frenzy of incomprehensible energy, as a wiry man with short dark hair turned from his victim and faced her, a leer on his mouth and evil raging in his eyes….

  Sabine sprang up in bed, staring through the darkness. The dream had been so vivid. She could see that room where Samuel had been tied. Heard his cries of agony all over again. She didn’t want to remember, but the images hung in her conscience, awful and tearing. Bringing her knees up, she let her head fall there and cried. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.

  On the bed next to hers, Rudy stirred. He rose to stand and stepped over to her. Pulling the covers over her legs aside, he sat on the mattress and gently lifted her onto his lap. It was a smooth motion that accompanied the swell of desperate need pumping through her heart. She curled against him, shaken, disoriented. Lost. He offered her comfort and she took it.

  She cried until she felt drained and empty. So empty. How was she going to find her way through the foreign landscape of her soul? How would she ever learn to live with the torture of her memory? She just wanted to forget.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Rudy asked, pulling her from the dregs of torment.

  She shook her head, more of a roll against his hard muscled chest. It was too hideous to put into words. Unfathomable. That another human being could do what had been done to Samuel and what would have been done to her.

  “You’re going to have to at some point.”

  She raised her head to look at him. His eyes were mellow with caring, plain for her to see. Unguarded. She was seeing all of him right now. Such a gift, this willing exposure of his self. It loosened something inside her. She could forget the horror of her ordeal in his arms. Escape it. Why not let him do that for her?

  Impulse made her lean closer, tilt her head. Her lips were a hair’s width from his. Just a slight movement closed the distance. A feather touch. She tasted his warm breath. Sweet. Soft.

  She moved back a fraction to look up into his eyes. Shadowed and darkly intense, they glowed in the meager light. She kissed him again, this time moving her lips over his to find the best fit. His arm went rigid around her back. She touched his lower lip with her tongue, then gently sucked where it had been, hoping he wouldn’t withdraw. He made her feel so good. She needed to feel good again.

  Rewarded by the sound of his quickening breaths, she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Now her breasts pressed against his hard body. She felt his hand on her thigh. The one on her back didn’t move. She touched her lips to his again. His mouth answered hesitantly. She reveled in the intimate contact, the soft brush of their mouths, the gentle play. When he pulled away, she leaned her head back, closing her eyes to feeling.

  Rudy kissed her neck, her jaw, the soft spot below her ear. His masculine rasps were erotic in the room. She moved her head and found his mouth again. A sound escaped her as she opened to him, wanting more than a chaste kiss. He reached deep with his tongue. Her injured lip protested against the force of his passion but wasn’t enough to make her want to stop him.

  His hand moved up her thigh, excruciatingly slow. When he reached the hem of her underwear, he went inside and cupped bare flesh. Heat spread through her, sweet tingles radiating from her core to the ends of her limbs. Their breathing resounded like soft whispers in the room. She pulled away from his mouth to trail kisses down his throat. But she couldn’t stay away from that mouth for long and returned for another long, searching kiss. He lifted up her T-shirt. She left his mouth only long enough for him to raise the shirt over her head and toss it aside. Her breasts touched his bare chest when she returned to kissing him.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, and Sabine knew he’d lost his remaining restraint.

  The muscles of his stomach tightened as he rolled onto his hip, making her land with her rear on the mattress. She dropped her arms from his neck to touch his chest. He hooked the hem of her underwear and pulled the garment down her legs. Kneeling between her legs, careful of the bandaged area, he came down to her, gently, without putting weight on her ribs.

  She stopped thinking about that when she felt his erection through his underwear. On his elbows, his fingers raked into her hair and he kissed her.

  “Tell me your name,” she said against his warm mouth.

  “Rudy,” he said, kissing her again.

  “Please,” she breathed. “I need...” He rubbed himself against her, and her mind blanked for a second.

  Pushing the waistband of his underwear down, she cupped her hands over his butt. His hips moved again, harder this time, and she felt his erection, parting without entering. Her mind blanked again.

  He took her open mouth and kissed her hard and deep, still moving against her. He sucked a spot on her neck then dragged his tongue down to her breast. Sabine thought her eyes would roll backward from the sensations firing through her.

  “Tell me your real name,” she barely managed to say. She had to know his name.

  His mouth slid off her nipple and moved up her neck until he found her lips. Lifting his head, he looked down at her.

  Passion mingled with hesitation.

  “Tell me,” she urged, lifting her head to kiss him reverently, a tender caress.

  He kissed her back then looked down at her again. A long moment passed.

  “Cullen.”

  “Cullen.” She looked into his eyes and gave him another worshipful kiss. “Cullen. Cullen. Cullen.” She met his mouth again. When she withdrew, she opened her eyes and found h
is.

  “Make love to me, Cullen.”

  He kissed her. One soft taste after another, taking his time with it, heating her to mind-numbing rapture. He moved down, grazed her nipple with his tongue, then traced the edge of her bruises before kissing his way down to her stomach. He made her entire body sing with pleasure. Even her toes tingled.

  Yes, this is exactly what she needed. To feel alive again. To forget.

  Coming back up to her, he looked into her eyes while his hand went down her side, over the curve of her hip, down her leg. Shivers rocketed through her as his fingers caressed the tender flesh of her inner thigh, up, up, until they grazed her wetness. Her breath caught and for a moment she thought she would come apart right then.

  “Mmm,” he murmured darkly.

  Sabine grabbed his wrist, unable to take any more. He met her eyes and seemed to understand. He rose to his knees and she watched him take off his underwear with jerky tugs, his smoldering gaze never leaving her.

  He dropped his underwear off the side of the bed and stretched over her, propped by his hands to keep from coming in contact with her bruises. The hard ridge of him rubbed against her warmth. Sabine put her hands on his butt and urged him to do more. He pulled back and the tip of him found her and pushed inside. The delicious pressure of his never-ending length filled her. He groaned and withdrew to push into her again.

  Sabine gripped his hard biceps. He stayed above her while he thrust back and forth, strumming unbearable sensation to a crescendo.

  A powerful orgasm shook her. It went on and on, a gripping eruption that made her cry out. When the waves subsided, he drove into her with more force, sliding one arm under her waist, tipping her hips and renewing the sizzle. She met his feverish kisses and her moan was deep and raw as she clenched around him a second time. He sank hard into her a few more times before he made a gruff sound and he came down on his elbows, resting his head beside hers. Many moments passed as he lay there on top of her, still inside her but spent.

  Peace settled over Sabine. The demons in her mind were far, far away. Where Cullen had pushed them. She was warm and safe and content. When he rolled onto his back, she sighed and curled against him, positioning herself so her ribs didn’t hurt. No words were necessary. The peace was enough. Lulled, she slept.