Mara never completed that sentence, but Trace knew what she had almost said. Her love shone like a beacon in the night. Luring him. Weaving spells around his heart. Fairy tales he’d never been young enough to believe in suddenly seemed possible when her green eyes smiled at him.
Something had to give—either his sanity or his self-control. And what he was afraid of most was losing his iron grip on his self-control.
* * *
Damon cursed under his breath, as did Lukas, when the SUV they were following from a safe distance turned onto an unmarked dirt road that appeared to lead nowhere, the SUV rocking and bouncing a little as it traversed the snow drifts. “I dare not turn,” Damon muttered as he drove steadily by the turn off, never slacking pace.
The SUV had already disappeared from sight, but Lukas aimed the long-lens camera in his hands at the dirt road as they passed it, snapping off a few shots. The digital camera would record more than just photographs of an empty landscape. It would also embed the GPS location in the digital files for future evaluation. They would return another day and reconnoiter in private, when there was no chance their target might realize he was being followed and put two and two together.
A few minutes later the two soldiers in civilian clothing found themselves in Keystone. Damon turned the car around without discussion and headed back toward Boulder. They weren’t tasked to tail their target everywhere he went, to never let him out of their sight. That would have required at least two more teams, possibly three, and would have dramatically increased the risk of being spotted by their target. No, their job was merely to watch from a distance, record what they could, and report in detail. And be ready to kill him, of course...should the order come. Their target would return to Boulder eventually. And they would be waiting.
* * *
The cabin was cold when Trace and Mara walked in. Trace had the programmable thermostat set at fifty-five degrees so the pipes wouldn’t freeze, but the air inside was decidedly chilly. He quickly turned the heat up, then got a roaring fire going in the fireplace before turning to face the princess, who stood quietly by the door, still bundled up against the Colorado cold.
“What is it?” he asked Mara when she didn’t smile, didn’t walk into the middle of the room, didn’t remove her jacket. Just stood there watching him with a grave expression on her usually animated face.
“That is what I wanted to ask you,” she said with solemn dignity. “All the way here you barely said one word to me. If you did not wish to come here, why are we here?”
Trace closed his eyes momentarily and swore under his breath. His voice was a deep rasp when he admitted, “I’ve wanted to bring you back here every day for the past seven weeks.” A shudder rippled through his body, shaking him to the core. “And every night.”
“Then why did you not bring me before this?” she whispered.
“Because...” He turned away, not wanting her to see the desperate need he was afraid was reflected in his face. “Because I wanted it too much.”
“I do not understand.”
The bewilderment in her voice made him whirl around to face her, and he violently suppressed the urge to stalk across the short distance between them and drag her into his embrace. Anger shook him. Not anger at her, but at himself. “Because I’m responsible for you. For your safety. I’m supposed to be the professional here. Every time I let myself forget that, I put you at risk.”
“Is that the only reason?”
He shook his head slowly and drew a deep breath before continuing. “Because no matter what happens,” he said softly, holding her eyes with his, wondering if she could read him as easily as he read her, “no matter what we feel, I’ll never be the right man for you—you deserve better than what I have to offer.”
“Do you love me?” By the way her hand covered her mouth and the startled expression that crossed her face he knew she’d surprised herself with the question as much as she’d surprised him. When he didn’t respond, she removed her hand from her mouth and said quietly, “If you love me, then nothing else matters.” Her fingers twisted together, the only sign she wasn’t as confident as she seemed. “If you love me, please do not talk of what I deserve.” She took one step toward him. Then another. “Since I have known you all I have wanted to be was a woman. Your woman. Is that so wrong?” she implored. “Just a woman with the man she lo—”
He kissed her to stop her from making that declaration, to stop her from saying the words neither of them could retreat from. But once he touched her he was lost. When his lips took hers she made a soft, glad sound, and one arm circled his neck as she strained to get closer to him.