The Rogue by Lindsay McKenna Read Free Book Online

gentle and delicate as one.

    My folks are simple people, Killian. Pa said you were here for a rest. Is that true? If so, for how long?

    Killian felt utterly trapped, and he longed to escape. Morgan was expecting the impossible of him. He didn't have the damnable ability to walk with one foot as a protector and the other foot emotionally far enough away from Susannah to do his job. The patient look on her face only aggravated him.
    "I'm between missions," he bit out savagely. "And I want to rest somewhere quiet. I'll try to be a better house guest, okay?"

    I know you're uncomfortable around me. I don't expect anything from you. I'll be staying up here most of the time, so you'll have the space to rest.

    Absolute frustration thrummed through Killian. This was exactly what he didn't want! "Look," he growled, "you don't make me uncomfortable, okay? I know what happened to you, and I'm sorry it happened. I have a sister who—"
    Susannah tilted her head as he snapped his mouth shut and glared at her. He wanted to run. It was in every line of his body, and it was in his eyes. The tension in the kitchen had become a tangible thing.

    Who? What?

    Agitated, Killian shot to his feet. He roamed around the kitchen in the semidarkness, seesawing back and forth about what—if anything—he should tell her. She sat quietly, watching him, without any outward sign of impatience. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned suddenly and pinned her with an angry look.
    "My sister, Meg, was nearly killed in a situation not unlike yours," he ground out finally. "She's disfigured for life, and she's scared. She lives alone, like a recluse. I've seen what violence has done to her, so I can imagine what it's done to you." He'd said enough. More than enough, judging from the tears that suddenly were shimmering in Susannah's eyes.
    Breathing hard, Killian continued to glare at her, hoping she would give up. He didn't want her asking him any more personal questions. Hell, he hadn't intended to bring up Meg! But something about this woman kept tugging at him, pulling him out of his isolation.

    I'm sorry for Meg. For you. I've seen what theviolence to me has done to my folks. It's awful.
    It's forever.

    As Killian read the note, standing near the table, his shoulders sagged, and all the anger went out of him. "Yes," he whispered wearily, "violence is wrong. All it does is tear people's lives apart." How well he knew that—in more ways than he ever wanted to admit.

    If you're a mercenary, then you're always fighting a war, aren't you?

    The truth was like a knife in Killian's clenched gut. He stood, arms at his sides, and hung his head as he pondered her simple question. "Mercenaries work in many capacities," he said slowly. "Some of them are very safe and low-risk. But they do deal with violent situations, too." He lifted his head and threw her a warning look. "The more you do it, the more you become it."

    Are you always in dangerous situations?

    He picked up the note, then slowly crushed it in his hand. Susannah was getting too close. That just couldn't happen. For her sake, it couldn't. Killian arranged his face into the deadliest look he could muster. "More than anything," he told her in a soft rasp, "you should understand that I'm dangerous to you."
    It was all the warning Killian could give her short of telling what had happened when one woman had gotten to him, touched his heart, made him feel love. He'd sworn he'd never tell anyone that—not even Meg. And he'd vowed never to let it happen again. Susannah was too special, too vulnerable, for him to allow her to get close to him. But she had a kind of courage that frightened Killian; she had the guts to approach someone like him—someone so wounded that he could never be healed.
    "I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said abruptly. He scanned the room closely with one sweeping gaze, then glanced down at her. "Because I'm a mercenary, I'm going to check out your house and the