Guard of Honor by Tracie Delaney
Chapter Seven
Unsurprisingly,after such a significant step forward, Honor crashed. Mack grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and laid it over her, then left her to sleep. He returned to the garden and picked up his pad. Turning the page, he started a fresh drawing, one from memory. He worked fast, the pencil sweeping over the paper as he tried to capture the expression on Honor’s face the moment she realized she’d crossed the threshold of her home—the first step on a long road to recovery. The shock mingled with joy had punched him squarely in the gut, and he’d experienced a rush the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a very long time. One of pride in himself as well as her, and an undoubted sense of pleasure that manifested itself in a granite-hard dick. The more Honor left the darkness behind and came out into the light, the more trouble he found himself in.
Fucking her was not an option. He was the wrong man for her. So wrong. A short-lived rumble between the sheets was all he had to offer, and she deserved more.
But damn, he wanted to fuck her.
After Clara had walked out, leaving his life in tatters, he’d found it hard to imagine ever feeling that undeniable pull of attraction again. Not a physical release—those were easy to come by—but a connection with another human being that meant far more than coming inside a woman.
And he felt the stirrings of that for Honor.
Two people who’d both experienced the blind terror and loss of control that came with realizing your life was in the hands of another and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it.
That they’d walked the same path was a terrible foundation to build any kind of a liaison upon. Their shared experience would feed the darkness, not dispel it. Whatever his desire for this woman, he couldn’t act on it. Not ever.
The door behind him opened, and he caught the housekeeper, Lizzie, out of the corner of his eye. Closing the pad, he set it next to him.
“Oh, you draw,” she stated, jerking her chin unnecessarily. “Can I see?”
“No.”
Despite his blunt reply, she sat anyway. Terrific. During his short time here, she’d made no secret of the fact that she didn’t like him, and he hadn’t much taken to her either. There was something about the young housekeeper that stirred him up. Too needy, maybe. Or too familiar? He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’ve dabbled.”
“In what?”
She huffed a sigh. “Drawing.”
“Good for you.”
His peace interrupted, he gathered his things and headed toward the house.
“You’re a very rude man, you know that?” Lizzie called after him.
Mack spun around slowly, giving her his eyes. “Aye, I am,” he said. “Best get used to it.”
Leaving Lizzie openmouthed, he strode inside, and after a quick check on Honor, who hadn’t moved, he took off upstairs to finish the drawing before his memory failed him. An hour later, he critically assessed the final piece. Yeah, he’d perfectly captured the look of pride mingled with disbelief.
He gradually became aware of the pace of his heart, the sensation of warmth spreading through his chest. He traced the tip of his finger over the lines of her face. Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Now that she’d made this first step, he’d ensure she made another and then another until she was flying free. Imagine how gorgeous she’d be then, a rare and exquisite flower that had, for too long, cowered in the face of a storm but, as the clouds parted, allowing sunlight to peek through, she would bloom freely once more.
Opening the bedside drawer, he placed the pad and pencil inside. His stomach grumbled, which he led him to guess that Honor might be hungry, too. She’d eaten that apple earlier, but he hadn’t seen her eat anything more substantial. Providing Lizzie wasn’t hanging around, maybe he and Honor could have lunch.
Jesus. What the fuck am I doing?
He saw the line in the sand all too clearly, and a powerful urge swelled within him to rub the damn thing out, and to hell with the consequences.
Making his way downstairs, he poked his head into the living room. The blanket he’d thrown over Honor lay discarded in a heap on the floor.
“Honor,” he called out, marching down the hallway toward the back of the house.
“In here,” came a voice from the kitchen.
He opened the door.
Fuck’s sake.
Lizzie met him with a glower, one she quickly dropped when Honor glanced at her.
“I’d like to talk to you. Alone,” he added pointedly with a pronounced stare in Lizzie’s direction.
“Oh, of course.” Lizzie stood. “I need to change the bedding anyway.”
“Stay out of my room,” Mack ordered.
Her eyes went to Honor, who shrugged as if to say, “Whatever he wants.”
“As you wish.”
Mack waited until the click of the door sounded, then sat at the kitchen table.
“Has Lizzie upset you?” Honor asked.
“No. She’s just a bit… sycophantic.”
Honor inclined her head. “Sycophantic?”
“Yeah, like she’s so far up your backside that we might have to have her surgically removed.”
She broke into laughter, clutching at her stomach as she doubled over. “You are hilarious, you know that?”
“Thanks. I know. But enough about me. How are you?”
At his question, her laughter faded, and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Exhausted.”
“That’s understandable. What you did will have taken a huge amount of mental energy. You’ll feel the effects of it for a day or so.”
“I can’t believe I did it.”
“Well, you did. And that’s only the first step.”
Alarm flashed across her face, but she brought the negative feeling under control in seconds. “What comes next?”
“You walk down the steps and stand on the pavement.”
She frowned. “Why are you helping me?”
Because that’s my real role in all this.
Liar. It might have started out like that, but he’d begrudged coming here. Now he refused to leave until he’d witnessed the woman sitting across from him slay her demons.
“My father is paying you to guard me, not fix me.”
Not true.
“Isn’t he?” she pressed when he didn’t respond.
“Do you prefer pancakes or waffles?” Mack asked.
Honor’s lips twitched. “Pancakes, and stop avoiding the question.”
“I’m not. But like I said, you’ve used a lot of energy this morning, and you need to replace the calories. Besides, I find it easier to talk when my hands are busy.”
“Pancakes it is, then.”
She watched with interest as he whisked the batter and tossed berries into a bowl.
“How did you learn how to cook?”
“I wouldn’t say I can cook. I have four or five things I know how to make. After that, it’s takeout or restaurants.” He shot her a grin. “Or finding a good woman to cook for me. How are your culinary skills?”
She raised her hands in the air. “Don’t look at me. I’m useless. Lizzie cooks for me.”
“What about before?” Mack asked as he poured the batter into a pan.
“Before my abduction, you mean?” Her brow wrinkled in surprise. “Wow, I managed to say the word without feeling sick.”
“More progress.”
“Yes, I guess so.”
She nibbled on her lip, lost in her thoughts. Mack left her to it and turned back to the pancakes. He finished the stack and set them on the table along with the bowl of berries, a bottle of maple syrup, and a jug of iced water.
“I ate out a lot before. With friends.” A shadow crossed her face. She shook her head, then helped herself to a pancake and a healthy spoonful of berries. Dousing the entire thing with the syrup, she took an enormous bite and then made an appreciative sound. “God, these are melt-in-your-mouth amazing.”
Mack’s jeans grew tighter with every second that passed. Honor treated eating pancakes as if it was an orgasmic experience. She closed her eyes on the next mouthful, groaning in pleasure.
Jesus Christ. I’m dying here.
He diverted his attention and dug into his food, slicing his fork through three pancakes. “You’ll soon be back out with your friends.”
“I don’t think so.”
The small voice that came at him across the table lifted his head. “Why not?”
She hitched up her left shoulder in a display of nonchalance that he’d bet she didn’t feel on the inside. “When they ask you to meet up, and you decline, and keep declining, friends tend to get bored and move on.”
“Real friends don’t.”
She recoiled as if his words had physically lashed her skin. Her eyes glazed over, and she turned her head, staring out the window.
“No, I guess they don’t.”
He cursed under his breath. “Shit, sorry. That was insensitive.”
“But factual. And very you.” She sighed, one of those deep breaths that came from way down within her stomach. “I suppose that coming from the military means you have plenty of friends. Aren’t you military types all ride-or-die?”
Mack chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. We’re more like a family, although after I left the service, I lost touch with some of them, and others… didn’t make it.”
Her eyes creased as she winced. “God, I’m sorry. And here’s me whining about my problems. At least I’m alive. Kind of.” Her lips turned up on one side. “Look at me, making jokes. You must be some kind of miracle worker.”
“Hardly, but I like the way you’re stroking my ego with pancake and humor related compliments.”
“Don’t get too used to it. At any moment, my razor-sharp tongue will probably make a comeback.”
“Won’t make a difference to me. I’ve got a hide like an elephant.” When she opened her mouth with a ready comeback, he shushed her and jabbed a finger at her plate. “Eat your food.”
Flashing him a grin, she did as she was told, and fuck if that didn’t make him harder.
They ate the rest of their brunch in silence, with her casting him the odd furtive glance and him pretending to ignore her and will his dick to deflate before he had to stand up.
Her fork clanged on her plate after one and a half pancakes. Given her too-thin frame, it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a start at least.
She pushed away her plate, then rubbed her stomach. “I’m promoting you to head chef.”
Mack chuckled. “You’d soon get sick of a very limited menu.” He gathered their plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. As he faced her once more, their eyes caught. A pink flush spread across her chest, and from this angle, he had a fantastic view of her cleavage. His brain hit him with an image of burying his face between her tits, suffocating, and dying happy.
“Mack.” Her lips parted in unspoken invitation for him to kiss her. Except he wasn’t sure she was even aware she’d extended such an invitation.
Ah, shit.
His phone vibrated. He dug it out of his back pocket, glancing at the screen. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
He strode out of the kitchen, unsure of whether to curse Loris to the depths of hell or offer him his firstborn for saving his arse.
Because, damn, he’d wanted to kiss her, too.