Make Mine a Marine (37 page)

"Shh." He hushed her and stroked her back beneath her hair, dipping his hand into the water and letting it dribble along her skin until she got used to the sensation. He turned his head and chanted more native words in her ear, a song of strength and power. He called to her spirit bear, thanking it for saving her life, asking it to save her again.

Prayers of his own ran through his mind and buried themselves in his soul. When she gentled her death grip, he lowered her into the water again, more slowly this time. Her hair fanned out across the surface, encircling them both, cloaking her freckled alabaster skin beneath the green-tinted water.

He held her close and rocked her like a baby, beating down his own internal need and fighting to remain detached. He felt her mouth move against the hollow between his neck and shoulder and sensed rather than heard her cries of distress settle into sobs of grief.

The warmth of her tears trickled down his chest and merged with the cooler temperature of the water. Although warm as a bath, the water's heat couldn't compare with the tortured anguish he imagined in each teardrop.

Ignoring the wisdom of his own counsel, Hawk altered his clinical grip and folded Sarah into a more loving embrace. "Let me bathe you. I'll be gentle," he promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of her hair. "I'll try to make you whole again."

A shy voice intruded from the bank. "I brought the soap." Shielding Sarah from curious eyes, Hawk turned only his head to look at Colleen.

"Thank you." The girl's quiet strength impressed Hawk. The girl deserved comfort, too, but right now Sarah needed him more. "You're going to be fine. So will she."

"I know. My father said you're a man we can trust."

Her unwavering faith reminded Hawk of the times he had failed. The hurt in his heart made his reply unintentionally harsh. "Take Sarah's clothes and burn them."

Seemingly nonplussed, Colleen collected Sarah's things and left. Before he could distance his emotions again, Sarah spoke. Her lips grazed his heated skin with an innocent caress.

"I scared them terribly, didn't I?"

Hawk continued to stroke her back. "I expected something like this. You've been through a lot. There was no way you could keep it all bottled up inside. It's a natural reaction."

"Still, I should—"

"Enough." He pressed a finger to her lips and silenced her. "They're a great group of kids. They believe in you and they'll be fine. Right now it's time to take care of you."

"But—"

"For once in your life, can't you put yourself first?"

Her head snapped back and she impaled him with a mixture of fear and surprise shimmering in her golden eyes. He immediately regretted the frustration that had seeped into his voice. Despite her amazing inner strength, this woman was a fragile thing. Her shy outward appearance was matched by the delicacy of her ego. He wanted to show her her beauty, help her believe in the loveliness he perceived.

He traced the elegant curve of her jaw and spoke gently. His anger receded as he realized it was focused on others who had hurt her and not on Sarah herself. "I don't think anyone has ever really taken care of you, Sarah. Just for a few minutes, let me."

"But I have to be strong."

Hawk shook his head at her rhetorical protest. "Not right now. Can you stand?" he asked.

She nodded in meek compliance. She crossed her arms and covered herself when he moved away. In seconds he returned with the soap and a shaky resolve to help her in any way she needed without acknowledging the growing interest of his own body and the burgeoning need within his own heart.

"Turn around." Respecting her rediscovered modesty, he gathered up her Godiva-like hair and rubbed the strands with the soap between his hands. He concentrated on working the lather through her hair, washing it from the roots to the ends, averting his gaze from the determined angle of her chin and the slight trembling in her shoulders. She said nothing more, and from the intermittent catch of her breath, he guessed she was crying silent tears.

He ignored the urge to gather her back into his arms, and tipped her head back to rinse the soap from her hair. His lips quivered at the creamy temptation of her arched neck, then pursed into a grim line when he glimpsed the purplish discoloration of the bruises around her throat, bruises that he had put there.

To carry him beyond his anger, he reminded himself that he was here for Sarah, not to alleviate his own guilt or assuage some ill-timed need. Trying to shut down that whole distracting line of thought, he moved the bar of soap to her shoulders and back and started talking. "The winds of fate have scattered your strength before them. But I have seen a vision of your strength, and I know that the most powerful spirit guide has joined with you."

He smoothed his sudsy hands down her arms and along her spine. He reached around and soaped her stomach. He skimmed his fingers across her breasts and around her hips. Her acceptance of his touch humbled him, made his hands tender worshipers of the treasure of trust she gave him. "The she-bear may be wounded, but she will not fail her cubs."

He slipped his hands lower, sliding the soap across her bottom and the supple length of her legs. He dunked his head to reach her ankles and feet, bringing him to eye level with all that was most feminine about her. The pulsing surge of heat in his body made him wish for cold water. He swallowed hard, gulping in enough water to lower his carnal thoughts to a simmer. Sputtering with embarrassment, he surfaced, bringing his palm up along the inside of her leg, carrying the bar of soap higher.

Sarah's lithe fingers closed over his hand midthigh. Jolted by the unexpected contact, already flooded with maddening thoughts, he unclenched his hand. The soap slipped from his grip and shot to the surface. Hawk backed away with the same abrupt motion.

"Am I the she-bear?"

Short of breath and good sense, he could only stare when she turned and faced him. She clutched the soap between her supplicant hands, then crossed her arms over her breasts. But as much as her tempting Venus body mesmerized him, he found he couldn't look away from the hopeful curiosity in her golden-green eyes.

"Yes," he answered simply. "I saw you on a vision quest. Last December. Seeing Brodie Maxwell again, when his wife was in trouble, reminded me of some things I needed to deal with. I went home to Nebraska to visit my mentor, Otis Peace Hands. He helped me with the ceremonies and led me to the vision."

"Of me?"

Many in the Anglo world didn't have patience or interest in learning the details of his native traditions. But he sensed—he hoped—that Sarah might be different. She possessed the curious mind of a true scholar. And right now she was a frightened vessel, set adrift in the world, needing answers to questions to regain security and a sense of balance.

He rarely shared this side of himself. He'd been rejected before for being strange, unnatural, even heathen. But he'd been able to resist little where Sarah McCormick was concerned. And here in this sheltered glade, feeling warm and wet and tired, humbled by Sarah's trust, he found he could no more resist her pleading, needy request than a starving man could say no to a morsel of food.

"I didn't know it was you at the time," he explained. "But certain signs tell me that you are the mother Kodiak I saw."

"What signs?" She swayed closer. Automatically, Hawk clasped his fingers over her hips to steady her at arm's length.

"Your hair, for one." He pulled a strand of its silky length from the water and draped it over her shoulder like a modest cloak. "It's the same caramel-brown color of Kodiak fur.

"And your eyes…" He swept his gaze back to the irresistible golden light there. "Tawny. Like the bear's."

Though her lids were pink and puffy, her gaze was clear and bright.

"You have the most beautiful eyes." It pained him to do anything that might douse the light there. But she had asked for the truth.  "The bear in my vision had her heart ripped out. She had a red, bloody wound on her chest."

Sarah squeezed her hands tightly against her heart. Her voice was little more than a mournful wheeze. "Like the blood on my shirt today."

"Not exactly." Hawk breathed in deeply, turning his face to the sound of a pair of wild macaws, calling in the treetops above them. How could he explain the aura of heartsickness he'd read in her that first night at the town meeting? How could he tell her that he'd envisioned her as his salvation? And knowing that, how could he justify having failed to keep her safe time and again?

"This is difficult for you to talk about, isn't it?"

In a move as miraculous as it was gentle, Sarah touched his brow. She trailed her fingertips along the lines of tension that spanned from his forehead to his temple. Then she laid her hand to rest against his cheek.

He basked in the healing power of her attentions, unable and unwilling to pull away. He looked down at her and mimicked the same actions with his own fingers on her face.

"You always help when you're needed, don't you? It's not in your heart to let anyone else suffer. The bear spirit is so strong in you. Let it heal you, too. Don't give away what you need for yourself."

He felt the timid pressure of her fingertips in his hairline. "Does your bear die?"

He felt a tremble shimmy through her body, or maybe it was his own shuddering response to the piteous plea in her voice. "I don't know."

He tightened his grip and tilted her face up to his. "I do know she was fierce and valiant, and she saved her cubs."

He cradled her face in both hands now, possessively, tenderly, beseechingly. "We have to write our own endings to what we envision in life. And I swear to you, despite my failures, that I will keep you safe. I will get you home."

"The girls are my cubs?"

"I think so."

"Thank you." That merest of whispers caressed his ears and settled like a balm over his own doubtful heart. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

"You're welcome." Her words healed his vulnerability. And the aura surrounding her head and shoulders lightened with a silvery glow. Her bath, his words—somehow, he had finally done the right thing and helped her. He'd led her back to her own strength, and in doing so, had rediscovered his own.  "You're welcome, schoolmarm."

And then it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to dip his head and capture her mouth in a gentle kiss. In one intake of breath he remembered her request the night before, the impropriety she worried about, something deeper she feared in his touch.

But in the next breath his worry had disappeared. She didn't pull away. She didn't murmur a protest. She slid her fingers into his hair and parted her lips and welcomed him.

Hawk explored her mouth with a reverence and gratitude befitting the esteemed status of her spirit guide. He tasted the sweet, tender skin along the inside of her mouth and sipped at the corner with his tongue. Then he felt a delicate suckle along the harder rim of his mouth, the unmistakable tug of her soft lips shyly demanding something more from him.

Barely aware of his own chest-deep groan, he gathered her in, flattening his hands over the smooth lines of her back and pulling her close. She wound her arms around his neck and stretched herself tightly against him like a cat settling into her lair. She angled her mouth to offer him greater access, and Hawk plunged in, claiming her with a natural rightness reserved for normal men.

An equal partner in this embrace, Sarah made gentle demands of his lips, and Hawk willingly complied. She was eager to learn and he was eager to teach the teacher the simple, ecstatic joys of a nip on her earlobe, or the tracing of a damp pattern of kisses down the column of her neck. And the teacher turned the tables, teaching herself, and him, the delights of little nibbles along his jaw, or the press of a kiss to the soft underside of his chin.

Never had any loving felt so pure, so perfect.

Never had a kiss made Hawk feel so powerful, so human. Never had a woman felt so right.

Hawk reclaimed her mouth and Sarah squirmed against him, the tips of her breasts beading like tiny brands piercing his chest. An unbidden, welcome rush of heat pelted his body below his waist. He slipped his hands lower, captured her hips, and rubbed himself against her. The heart-stopping friction eased his ache, yet intensified his desire.

And scared Sarah to death.

At least, the sudden whimper in her throat and the startled push of her hands against his chest and the quick ducking of her face made him think he had scared her. He sensed she was new to all this, she'd just been traumatized, and still, like an insensitive brute, he'd overwhelmed her with his own needs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as she pulled away. He moved his hands to the neutral location of her shoulders, needing her to balance him as much as he intended to balance her.

Water swept in between them, along with concern and regret for Hawk. "Sarah, that was unforgivable. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't." She touched his chest and he fell silent.

Water lapped at the tops of her breasts, creating a hushed drumbeat of sound as she tried to even out her breathing. Hawk inhaled deeply, lifting his gaze from the tempting sight. He drank in the air, filled with the sickeningly sweet perfume of flowers, and found the steamy atmosphere couldn't quite provide his lungs the reviving air they needed.