A dragonfly buzzed by her head and lit on Reyn’s sleeve. She stared at the water bug, uncertain for the second time in minutes that she’d heard Reyn right. She knew, even if she had heard correctly, it still solved nothing between them.
She struggled for a breath, felt a fresh ripple of pain wash through her. “Reyn, I can’t—”
“Wait. Don’t answer me yet. First, I want to give you my wedding present.” He squeezed her hand and licked his lips nervously. “I want to give you…my demon.”
Her breath caught, and her heart tapped an expectant rhythm.
He looked down at their joined hands, laced his fingers with hers and held onto her hand as if his life depended on it. His seriousness caused an anxious quiver in her chest.
“I’ve spent the last twenty years believing I was to blame for my mother’s death.” His eyes told her how painful that admission was.
She opened her mouth to contradict his assumption, but he plowed on with his explanation.
“The fire started in my room, with the candles I was notorious for experimenting with, while I hid in the woods, fearing a whipping for taking matches to school. By the time I realized my house was burning, the fire was out of control. I only made it as far as the front door before the heat drove me back. The heat and…my fear.” He drew a deep breath, clearly struggling to lay out his tragic past to her. “I knew my mother was inside. I knew I needed to go in and try to get her out, try to help her, but…I didn’t. I couldn’t. I was too scared to do what I knew I needed to do to help my mother. And because of that, she died. I’ve lived with the guilt of letting her down, of letting my cowardice decide her fate ever since.” His voice cracked, and he swiped away moisture from his eyes.
Her heart ached for him, and tears stung her eyes. He was letting her inside his walls, she realized. Sharing his soul, his emotions, despite what it cost him. She absorbed the significance of his confession as he continued, her heart swelling with pride for his sacrifice to her and shared pain for his grief.
“Since then, I’ve been afraid to let anyone close, afraid that I’d fail them the way I failed my mom. But mostly I’ve been afraid to love anyone for fear of losing them and going through this pain all over again.” He scowled and clenched his teeth before finishing. “Rather than face my fears, I’ve walked away from love time and again. And I avoided any reminders of my guilt, of my loss, even when it hurt people I loved.”
“Like staying away from Clairmont so long?” she asked, her throat raw and tight with tears.
“For starters.” He sighed. “Being back in Clairmont, facing everything I’ve been running from for years has been a real wake-up call to me. Learning the truth about Horton and my mom’s death has helped put some things in perspective. She’ll finally have justice, and by helping get her that justice, I think I can finally begin to forgive myself for my inaction before.”
She stroked his cheek and struggled to speak. “Oh, Reyn, surely you see now—looking at your mom’s death through the eyes of a fireman rather than the eyes of a small boy—that there was nothing you could have done without losing your own life in the process?”
“Probably so. But guilt doesn’t always listen to reason.” He covered her hand with his, brought her fingers to his lips. “What I do know is that I’m tired of letting the demon, my guilt and my fear, rule my life. Gram says real courage is doing what you know you must despite your fear.” He looked deep into her eyes and said resolutely, “I will not walk away from love again. And I love you, Olivia. I want to be with you. For always.
“I can’t undo the mistakes I’ve made, and I can’t promise that I won’t let you down sometimes in the future, but I swear on my life, I will do my best to make you happy and to be the best husband I can be. I want to stay in Clairmont. My home is here. My family is here. And I want to raise my children here. With you. Please, give me another chance.”
Olivia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t believe her ears. He wanted to share her life, build a family, give himself to her. She stared into his expectant gaze. Gone were the storm clouds that had shadowed their depths for the past weeks. Instead, a shimmering love, a warmth and joy smiled back at her from his clear gray eyes. This was the Reyn she’d been searching for, the man she’d made love to, the grandson Lila had bragged on. Her fantasy. And he wanted to make her dreams come true.
“Olivia?” Reyn’s tone was worried, and she realized how long she was taking to answer.
Laughter welled from deep inside her, and she launched herself into his arms. “Yes! Oh, absolutely yes!”
She kissed him hard and sank against his muscled chest. His kiss answered her fervor with love and passion that were unmistakable. She grinned and whispered seductively, “I’m burning up with a fire only you can put out, Lieutenant Erikson.”
A spark of mischief, a flicker of desire heated his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Bring it on, Red. I’m ready for it.”
Reyn wrapped his sweaty hand around the cross-shaped door handle and steeled himself with a deep breath. The October sun warmed his face when he tipped his head to soak in its rays.
He couldn’t have asked for a prettier day. Of all days to be late, why the morning of his wedding? Olivia was going to kill him. Nervous tension tightened his chest as he opened the door and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the sanctuary. He forgot to catch the door, and it banged closed, drawing all eyes to the back of the church.
Reverend Halmon grinned. “I thought the bride was supposed to make the grand entrance.”
“Sorry. I saw Mrs. Skinner’s car on the side of the road, and I stopped to help her change a flat.” Reyn adjusted the tie of his dove gray tuxedo and smiled sheepishly.
“I knew it was either heroics or another woman. In this case, it was both.” He heard Olivia’s wry tone, but the morning sun streamed in the side windows and blinded him from a clear view of his bride. As he started down the aisle, a flash of color called his attention to the saints and angels in flowing robes gazing down from the stained glass. He remembered seeing condemnation and censure from these faces just a few months ago. He waited for the demon’s voice to spoil his happiness, his wedding day. And waited.
Instead, as he stared at the artfully crafted faces in the colorful glass, he heard his mother’s voice, an echo of the day he mastered riding a bike. I knew you could do it, honey. I’m so proud of you. Today, the saints and angels smiled their approval. A sense of peace and closure flowed through him. Redemption for his mistakes.
“Sometime today, fireman. I thought you guys knew how to hustle.” His bride’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
He turned toward the altar and stepped out of the bright beams that blinded him. And caught his breath.
Olivia’s fiery hair spread on her shoulders, and her heavenly face radiated love and joy. In the flowing satin wedding dress and with baby’s breath in her hair, she looked like an angel. Until she sent him her wicked, lopsided grin. A devilish promise of sensual pleasures awaiting him.
He slid his gaze over her curves, still slim and sleek since she’d not gotten pregnant…yet. But he’d correct that soon enough. Imagining Olivia’s belly swollen with his child flashed heat through his body. He couldn’t wait. He had to look away or risk becoming embarrassingly aroused in church.
Hannah Russell, with Sara at her side, gave him an approving nod. George was serving an abbreviated sentence for concealing knowledge of a felony in exchange for his testimony against Vance Horton. Meanwhile, Horton awaited trial for his numerous crimes including two murders.
Lou sat next to his wife, beaming like a proud father, while Hank stood next to Olivia, waiting to serve as Reyn’s best man.
Hank nodded to him. “Glad you could make it, boss.”
Boss. Reyn smiled, still getting used to the idea of being the town’s new Fire Chief. He’d been assigned the duty of reorganizing the volunteer fire department and made the first permanent, paid member of the new Clairmont
Fire Department and Rescue Squad, which would include other neighboring towns.
He glanced to Olivia’s left where Katy and Gram, back on her feet again and ambulatory with the help of a walker, served as attendants to the bride. They flashed him dual grins of affection, which he returned. A warmth spread through him, while he scanned the faces around him, knowing the wealth of love and support the citizens of Clairmont held for him and his bride.
He took his place beside Olivia, once again stuck by her beauty and reveling in the joy that she would be at his side for years and years to come. After a long absence and years of heartache, he had finally come home.
About the Author
Georgia native, Beth Cornelison received her bachelor's degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.
Since that time, she has won numerous honors for her work including the coveted Golden Heart awarded by Romance Writers of America. She made her first sale to Silhouette Intimate Moments in June 2004 and has gone on to publish several more books with Silhouette. She has also had releases from Five Star Expressions, Sourcebooks and Samhain Publishing. For more information, visit www.bethcornelison.com.
Look for this title by Beth Cornelison
Now Available:
Under Fire
A terrorist plot puts their lives—and hearts—on the line.
Under Fire
© 2008 Beth Cornelison
When Jackson McKay and his daughter are kidnapped, their captors demand his research files on a devastating chemical weapon—or they’ll kill his little girl. Jackson searches desperately for a way to save his daughter and also protect his country from the terrorists. No risk is too great. His daring escape sets in motion a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Arriving at the scene of a wildfire, smokejumper Lauren Michaels and her crew are caught in the crosshairs of Jackson’s nightmare. Lauren is the only one who can lead Jackson off the burning mountain and to the police. In order to prevent a national crisis and save a child’s life, they embark on a treacherous journey—one step ahead of a sniper!
But more than their lives are at risk, because an unexpected heat flares between them that may cost them their hearts…
Warning: This title contains sex, strong language, some violence, smart men, courageous women, and heart-pounding action. Possible side effects of reading include racing pulse, missed sleep, and nail biting.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Under Fire:
Jackson gaped. “You’re a woman!”
Her no-shit-Sherlock glare rebuked him for wasting time with the obvious, but the pop of gunfire interrupted any verbal reply. Bark splintered from the tree beside him.
Jackson dove for the ground. He landed next to the woman, pain streaking through his shoulder. The smokejumper gasped and crab-walked through the leaves, scuttling away from him. Another crack echoed through the trees.
“Stay down!” He scrambled through leaves and thorny debris to tackle her, cover her with his body. Protect her.
She grunted and squirmed. Despite the sharp ache wringing his shoulder, he held on tight. No way would he let a woman get hurt in this nightmare if he could help it.
Damn it, a woman! The last thing he needed was another life to safeguard, another innocent snared in this macabre scenario.
With surprising strength, the woman used a wrestler’s move to flip him to the ground and pin him under her.
Lightning-hot pain slashed down his arm and up his neck. An agonized cry tore from him, and spots flashed before his eyes.
The smokejumper gazed down at him, winded, her breath hitting his face in gentle puffs. Under other circumstances, the position would be a turn-on. The woman wasn’t bad looking, even with dirt smudges on her cheeks and leaves in her hair.
Jackson squeezed the sleeves of her yellow fire shirt and snarled, “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a maniac shooting at us!”
“I’m well aware of that!” she growled back. “I’m trying to save your sorry ass!”
Jackson blinked. Scowled. “You’re saving my—”
Another bullet pocked the earth by his head.
“Shit!” With a hard tug on her arm, he twisted toward a cluster of barbed bushes.
The woman moved with him, and together they rolled into the briars. From their hiding place, she stretched her arm out and groped in the blanket of fallen leaves and pine needles. After a moment, she dug out the revolver she’d dropped and dragged it into the brush with them.
“Can you shoot?” he asked.
She cut her eyes to his, hesitated. “I can shoot. What I hit is another matter.”
“Then I suggest you save your rounds until your target’s at closer range.”
She gave him another how-stupid-do-I-look look. Shifting to lie on her belly, she gazed out across the clearing again. “And just who is my target? Why is he shooting at us?”
Jackson rubbed his throbbing shoulder. Sighed. Where did he begin? “Suffice to say, he’s merciless and will stop at nothing to protect his interests.”
“What interests? C’mon, pal, you’re not making a lot of sense!”
“Mike!” a thundering voice shouted from across the open field.
The woman’s breath caught as another smokejumper staggered out of the woods across from them, dragging his right leg and clutching tree trunks for support.
She snatched the radio from her hip and jabbed the button.
“Boomer, get down! I’m all right. Oh God! Just stay outta sight. I’m on my way,” she said in a low rushed voice and started scrunching forward, out from under their cover.
Jackson grabbed for her wrist, a thorn gouging his arm in the process. “Hey, whoa!”
She tried to shake loose of his grasp, but he clung to her hand. “You can’t go out there. There’s no cover. Rick’ll pick you off like a fish in a barrel.”
“Rick? You know the guy that’s shooting at us?” She glanced back to her friend, and they watched Boomer slide to the ground and roll into cover behind a large pine.
“Not the way you mean.” Jackson struggled for a breath through the searing ache in his shoulder. “Look, he’s got a rifle with a scope. And a hell of a lot of other weapons in the van. He freaked when he saw you and your buddies jump from the plane. He doesn’t want anyone seeing him or reporting a van or—”
“The plane!” She raised her small handheld radio again. “Jump 49, this is Michaels. Do you read me?” When she got no response, she repeated her call to the aircraft. “We have a man down! Do you read me?”
Static crackled in the cramped space under the brambles. No one answered her call.
“Damn it,” she growled. “The repeater must still be out. They can’t hear me.”
The woman, Michaels she’d called herself on the radio, heaved a deep sigh and dropped her forehead to the walkie-talkie in her hand. “Please, God. Please.”
Jackson tried to shift, wanting a better view of the terrain. The movement shot pain through his arm again. He rubbed his shoulder, grimacing. “Geez-zus!”
The woman scooted toward him. “You’re hurt. Were you shot?”
He drew a ragged breath through clenched teeth. “No. It’s an old football injury from college. I aggravated it a couple days ago when Rick and his henchmen slammed me on the floor one time too many.”
Her dirt-smudged brow furrowed. “Come again? Slammed you on the floor?”
“Mike!” the same deep voice called across the clearing.
She jerked her attention back to the injured man across the clearing, concern creasing her face.
“Hang on, Boom. I’m coming. Where are Birdman and Riley? Who’s that in the clearing?” she said into her radio. Eyes closed, she waited for a response.
Jackson studied her. She seemed young, yet in control of her situation, her emotions. Even without makeup she had a fragil
e femininity about her, an appearance incongruous with the tough, take-charge smokejumper he’d witnessed so far. She glanced at him. “What’s your story? Why are you up here?”
Jackson tried to steady his breathing then summarized the past two days as succinctly as he could.
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head then frowned skeptically. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t. All you have is my word.”
She turned away, lifted the walkie-talkie again. “Boomer, it’s Mike. Do you copy?”
Nothing.
“Damn.” She huffed. “Listen…” Grabbing the front of Jackson’s Yale T-shirt, she shoved her face inches from his. Her green eyes blazed. “My partner is hurt,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Another man’s down over there, not moving.” Her voice broke, and the first flash of grief or fear flashed over her face.
She sucked in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as if in defiance of the emotions. Once again composed, she grated, “I have to get over to them. Now!”
He knew the fire and determination that lit her eyes well. Intimately. Janine had had the same passion, the same grit.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered, holding her gaze. The energy and conviction in her eyes pulled him in, sucked him deep into their magnetic lure. Never again.
She averted her eyes and shoved him away. As she inched out from their hiding place, Jackson bit out a curse and followed.
“Wait! Go the long way around.” He pulled himself along the ground with one arm. “Stay in the cover of the trees and skirt the edge of the clearing. Keep out of sight.”
She glowered at him. “Anything else, Your Highness?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Yeah. Lose the yellow shirt. You’re too visible.”
Still frowning at him, she climbed to her feet, staying in a squat, and looked down at her bright clothing. “Damn it, you’re right. Help me get this thing off.”
Reyn's Redemption Page 22
