And because she could love him.
Because I do love him.
In her shame, she wondered if she really knew him at all. She’d speculated once that he was someone different depending on his assignment, but had come to believe that here, he was the real Conall. On no evidence whatsoever.
She was dry-eyed, thank God. Devastated, but too angry to cry. Yes, he was remarkable with the boys and even with Sorrel. He must have a gift for seeing what each person needed then meeting it. The grief-stricken boys. The confused teenage girl. And Lia herself, who tried to make a family out of children who never stayed long enough to really love her.
“I’m pathetic,” she whispered to her reflection in the steamy kitchen window. With jerky movements she turned off the water, dried her hands then got the dishwasher running.
Tired and lonelier than she’d ever been in her life, she went upstairs to tuck the kids in. It was a huge relief to escape outside. She sat for a very long time on the porch steps in the dark.
Finally, when she went to bed she did something she hadn’t in years—she closed her door and hoped Conall got the message.
* * *
CONALL KNEW HE SHOULD have talked to Lia today. He’d been curt with everyone. Grumpy. Of course she’d noticed. What had he expected?
The trouble was, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell her how confused he was, how close to panic. He couldn’t admit to her how vulnerable he felt, or how much that threw him back to a time he hated to remember, when he was a kid and still let himself get hurt.
No, it was better that he hadn’t tried to explain anything to Lia. Whatever he was feeling, he’d get over it. He’d be more careful with her, that’s all. He was usually good at hiding what he felt.
For some damn reason, Henderson was snoring tonight. A couple of times Conall actually stalked across the attic to the bed and heaved his partner to his side to shut him up. Usually he could tune out irrelevant noises, but tonight he was on edge. That panic made him jittery, as if he’d had too much caffeine. Nerves shivering beneath the skin.
Everything would be fine tomorrow. Back to normal. There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the rest of his time here.
With an effort of will, he calmed down. Felt the tension leach from his muscles. He started thinking about Lia without the anxiety. He began to count down the minutes until he could get into bed with her. Right now, kissing her was the reassurance he wanted. What kind of idiot was he to develop a case of the cold sweats because the sex with her was too good? He grunted at the stupidity of that.
Henderson slept later than usual. About every five minutes, Conall debated whether he should wake him up. But Henderson was getting the short end of the stick with this operation, and the least Conall could do was let the poor bastard sleep.
It was 3:43 when Jeff stumbled out of bed, muttered something about pissing, and went downstairs. He didn’t always go down; the guy had a hell of a bladder, but this time he must have gone all the way to the kitchen, because he came back with a glass of juice and a big whopping slice of the carrot cake Lia had baked yesterday.
“Go to bed,” he said around a bite, and Conall went. Jeff moved more like Big Foot than an undercover agent. Lia would be awake for sure.
The hall was so dark he didn’t notice her door until he reached the bathroom and turned on the light. Then he glanced back and saw four closed bedroom doors.
He stood stock-still, suddenly sick to his stomach.
Lia had closed it by accident. She must be awake; pretty soon she’d notice that she was seeing only a faint band of light beneath the door. By the time he came out, she would have opened her door.
Conall brushed his teeth, used the toilet, then hesitated before reaching for the knob. She’d be waiting for him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Maybe more, he told himself, trying to feel cocky instead of shaky.
He opened the door and looked down the hall to see…hers still closed. After a moment he shut off the light and walked toward his bedroom, maybe a little less quietly than usual. Thinking…he didn’t know what. His feet stopped at her door the way they always did. His lips formed her name. It was a long time before he forced himself to continue to his own room.