Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney

Chapter Twenty

Mack threwan arm over his head and steadied his breathing. It’d been a hell of a long time since he’d come inside a woman. After Clara had left, he’d spent a month, maybe six weeks, tearing through faceless fuck after faceless fuck in a bid to erase the memories of what he’d done to the one woman he’d promised in front of their friends and family to spend his life taking care of. Turned into a crapshoot, truth be told, and so he’d given celibacy a try.

Hadn’t worked either, but at least he’d not woken every morning regretting his actions from the night before. Meeting and marrying Clara had taught him that he wasn’t a meaningless-sex kind of guy. Had plenty before he met her, and plenty afterward, but every single one of the encounters had left him with a hollow chest and a sour taste in his mouth, a sign of self-abhorrence.

Until now. Until her.

He eased his head around to find Honor’s eyes on him, her hands tucked beneath her pillow.

“Tell me what you were thinking right then.”

Mack rolled onto his side and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “How good I feel.”

No point in telling her the rest of his wayward thoughts. Spilling his guts about why his wife had left him was the fastest way to kill whatever this thing between him and Honor was.

She nibbled the corner of her mouth. “So it was okay?”

He trailed his hand down her body, wrapped his arm around her waist, and kissed her. “No. It wasn’t ‘okay.’ It was fucking mind-blowing.”

“Thank God.”

A laugh rolled through his chest. “Need to have more faith in yourself, Red.”

She snuggled into him. He wasn’t the cuddling kind, and it crossed his mind to get out of bed. But he was too damned comfortable to move. And if he thought about shit long and hard, he liked how it felt to lie here with her, listening to the sound of birds singing right outside the window.

She tracked her nail over the ink on his inner arm. “What does all this writing mean?”

“Each line is the name of a man I fought alongside in Syria or Afghanistan. The men who didn’t make it. It’s my way of remembering them and mourning them.”

She took a sharp intake of breath. “That’s tough.”

His lungs flattened. He held her tighter, and the pain eased. “Yeah, it was. Still is.”

“What language is this?”

“Arabic for those who died in Syria, and Persian if they lost their lives in Afghanistan.” He shrugged. “Seemed fitting somehow.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re a good man, Mack.”

His eyes darkened. If only she knew…

“No, Red. I’m not a good man.”

Flinging back the covers, he climbed out of bed and strode into the bathroom. Took a breather. Slowed his heartbeat. He returned less than a minute later and hovered halfway between the door and the bed, unsure in which direction to turn.

“What did I say?”

Her expression, so stricken, tugged painfully on his insides. He perched on the edge of the bed. “Don’t kid yourself that I’m a hero, Red. I’m about as far from a hero as you can get.”

“Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, Mack. We’re all made up of good and bad. But you fought for your country. You undoubtedly saved countless lives.” She leaned up and tugged his bottom lip between her teeth, forcing a groan from his throat. “And you saved me. That makes you a hero in my book, and I won’t hear arguments to the contrary.”

He palmed the back of his neck and rammed his jaw tight to stop the merest chance of opening his mouth and destroying her image of him. He’d feed off her adoration, selfish bastard that he was. She never had to know the truth because in a few weeks or months, she’d rediscover what her abductor had stolen—her independence—and he’d move on to the next job, and they’d never see each other again.

His chest ached at the thought.

“Only a crazy man would argue with you, Red.”

“To use your words back at you, damn straight.” She giggled and peeled back the covers. “Now get back into bed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Last woman who tried to order me about ended up across my knee with her arse thoroughly spanked.”

She gave him the side-eye, and then, as she spotted his twitching lips, she picked up a pillow and threw it at him. He palmed it away easily.

“You’re a jerk.”

He dove underneath the covers and pulled her on top of him, then smacked her left butt cheek. She squealed.

“Reach over and grab me a condom, Red, and I might just show you what a turn-on a spanking can be.”

* * *

“What do you want with your omelet?” Mack’s head was buried in the fridge. He reappeared with armfuls of onions, peppers, ham, and cheese.

“Is making omelets one of your five specialties?” Honor tucked her left knee into her chest and wrapped her forearms around it.

Mack grinned. “You got me.”

“I’ll take cheese and ham.”

“Coming right up. You set the table and make the coffee, and I’ll serve you the best omelet you’ve ever tasted.”

“Still haven’t mastered the coffee machine, then?”

“Nope. And I don’t plan to try.” He whisked the eggs. “Need to run something past you. And I want you to think before you answer. Don’t shoot from the hip.”

“Now I’m curious. Go.”

His steady gaze locked on hers, but he didn’t stop whisking. “I want to take you out to dinner tonight. There’s an Italian restaurant in town. Gets half-decent reviews. I think it’d be good for you.”

Her stomach knotted and goosebumps peppered her arms. She took three deep breaths, blowing each one out slowly, and the knot loosened.

“I think I can do it.”

“I fucking know you can do it.” He set down the whisked eggs, strode over to her, gripped her chin, and planted a hard kiss on her lips. “And given how many suitcases you brought, you won’t struggle for something to wear.”

They spent a lazy day relaxing on the deck and skinny-dipping in the lake. By the time the sun disappeared over the horizon and Honor emerged from her bedroom in a fitted emerald-green dress that finished mid-thigh, paired with three-inch heels and a chunky gold necklace, she had dared to believe that she hadn’t entirely lost the woman she once was. Her anxiety hadn’t completely vanished; the sweaty palms and rapid heartbeat were proof of that. But the fact that she stood here, prepared to go out in public and eat a meal like a normal person, was a step forward of epic proportions. She only hoped she didn’t sit down, freak out, and run screaming from the restaurant like an escaped lunatic.

Relax, Honor. They were a long way from Manhattan, and no one knew they were here. Mack refused to even tell her father, and when she’d spoken to him, Mack had made her promise to keep their location a secret. Whenever she questioned him about why, he’d say that he had his reasons and pushing him for answers would get her nowhere.

She gripped the handrail tightly as she walked downstairs. Mack had his back to her, his gaze fixed on the lake, a sea of black illuminated by the three-quarter moon shining in a clear night sky. He turned as she approached.

“Fuck me, you look… wow.” He raked his gaze over her, starting at her head and ending at her feet. “You’re gonna break a few hearts tonight, Red.” He prowled toward her and slid his hands around her waist. “Including mine.”

“Oh, behave yourself.” She swatted his shoulder. “I do feel amazing, though. Almost human.”

He ran his nose along her jawline, breathing in deeply. “You’re definitely human.” His hands moved up to cup her breasts. “And I concur. You feel fucking amazing.” His lips traveled over her neck, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “Not sure how I’ll manage to keep my hands off you tonight.”

“Then don’t,” she replied breathlessly.

His eyes glittered with dangerous intent. “Oh, Red, only tug on that thread if you’re prepared for it to unravel.”

She ran the tip of her forefinger over her bottom lip and peered up at him through eyelashes she’d elongated with a dash of mascara.

“Let’s see what the evening brings.”

Mack groaned, then gripped her elbow and propelled her toward the front door. “Anyone would think you were stalling in the hope that I couldn’t resist. Too bad, Red. I’m a stubborn bastard, and abstinence is something I learned in the Royal Marines. So flutter those eyelashes all you want. We’re going.”

She opened her mouth to deny his accusation, then realized there was a grain of truth in his claim. Getting ready for the evening had distracted her from the real reason she’d gotten all dressed up, but now that the time had come to leave the safety of the compound and venture into the unknown, her stomach swam with nerves.

“I’m not… I wasn’t stalling. But I am scared.”

“One step at a time, Honor. Remember? All you have to do is walk to the car and get inside.”

She nodded. “I can do it. I know I can. With your support.”

He grazed his fingers over the back of her neck. Delicious goose bumps broke the surface of her skin.

“You got it, Red. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Are you carrying your gun?”

Mack was rarely without his gun. But since they’d arrived here. he’d taken it off while in the house, only wearing his holster when they went outside.

His right eyebrow arched perfectly. “That isn’t a gun in my pocket, Red, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A snort of laughter burst from her chest. “That’s a very old joke.”

“The oldies are the best. And yes, I’m carrying a gun. It’s something I do. Nothing to get wound up over.” He opened the car door and ushered her inside. “Put your seat belt on.”

He climbed in the other side and drove toward the gates. As they opened and Mack steered the car onto the road, her heart rate accelerated. Silly, really, considering they’d driven all the way here from Manhattan just a few short days ago, and she’d managed that. This wasn’t any different. Except, then, the destination hadn’t been a restaurant filled with strangers, any one of whom could be the man who’d kidnapped her.

But you sat in the diner, and you were fine. This will be fine as well. It will.

“Breathe through your nose, Honor.”

She flashed him a sideways glance. “What?”

“You’re almost hyperventilating. Steady breaths. In and out. In and out. Remember, you’re strong as fuck, right?”

“I’m sorry.” She gripped her knees and bent forward. “I need a minute.”

Mack swerved into the side of the road, cut the engine, and unclipped his belt. Hers, too. And then he shifted closer and curved his hands around her face. “Eyes on me. All we’re doing is going for a drive. You’re thinking of the destination rather than the journey. Don’t. One step, then another, then another. And each one in your own time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You don’t owe me or anyone else an apology. Stop talking for a minute and just breathe.”

She followed his instructions, and before too long, her lungs quit burning, her heart settled into a normal rhythm—and exasperation swamped her.

“Why does this keep happening? I think I’m improving, and then the panic… it comes out of nowhere, bursting out of me, and all I want to do is run and hide.”

“You are improving. Trauma fucks us up, and there isn’t a timeline for recovery. Everyone is different. We’re all on an individual journey. Jesus, woman, you are hard on yourself. Just look how far you’ve come in the last few weeks. Hell, in the last few days. So quit with the ‘I’m not getting any better’ bullshit. You are. Just not as fast as you think you should, and that’s why you’re frustrated when you have an episode.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips. “Ready to drive a bit farther and see what happens?”

“No,” she stated.

His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “No?”

“I’m ready to go eat some fine food with my super-hot ex Royal Marine bodyguard sitting right alongside me.”

He broke into a smile. “Knew you had balls of steel.”