Men Of Honour. Lori Foster

making Chris pause with a laugh. “I guess they’re ready to turn in for the night, so now they’re coming with me.” He eyed Molly. “You don’t mind being alone?”

      She shook her head. “I usually am.”

      And for whatever reason, that damn near broke Chris’s heart.

      THROWING HERSELF into her work, Molly spent two hours on the computer and managed to write the entire scene before her muse took a rest and reality sank back in. The house was so quiet, and when she looked at the clock, she saw it was almost 10:00 p.m.

      She saved her file and stored the flash drive with the few belongings she owned. Earlier, she had carried her dishes back down to the kitchen and stowed them in the dishwasher. The silence of the big house hadn’t really sunk in then; she’d been too anxious to get back to her story.

      Now, however, she heard every unfamiliar noise.

      Arms wrapped around herself, she walked over to the French doors to look out. Her head started to ache, so she freed her hair from the haphazard topknot fastened with paper clamps she’d found on the desk. Of course two men with short hair didn’t have any hair clips or bobby pins just lying around.

      She shook her hair free, rubbed her temples a little. And still the tension continued squeezing in.

      Earlier, the walk had helped. Then the hot bath. And then writing. But now …

      Surely Dare would come back tonight … right?

      She looked at the bed and shuddered at the thought of trying to sleep there, alone, with only her turbulent memories.

      Regardless of how Dare had told her to come to him, it wasn’t fair to impose on him that way.

      But … she didn’t want to sleep alone with her nightmares, and she had no one else.

      Pacing the room, she took note of all the shadows cast from the glow of the computer monitor and the full moon outside. She took note of the silence, the chill, how the walls closed in.

      She fought it, but anxiety tightened around her, smothering, insidious, consuming.

      She drew a deep breath, then another—and knew she had to move now, before she lost control.

      Swiping the quilt off the bottom of the bed, she went down the stairs, through the house and out the back door. Immediately, a million stars shone down on her, twinkling bright around a fat opalescent moon.

      This time she filled her lungs with the brisk night air—and the freedom of it calmed her.

      Dare would return tonight, and if he didn’t, she’d stay outside. Out here, she didn’t feel trapped or small or helpless. Having the wide-open skies over her was nothing like that cramped, airless room where they’d kept her chained up like an unwanted mutt, breathing the scents of fear and desperation and filth.

      Where they had taken pleasure in tormenting her.

      Hurting her.

      But not too much, not enough to really injure her. They’d been waiting for something, she knew it.

       But what?

      When she stepped off the porch and onto the path, ambient security lights flickered on to show the way to the dock. She could hear the lake washing up to the rocky shoreline. She heard the teasing rustle of leaves, the songs of crickets and other night creatures.

      She didn’t know what else might be out there with her, but she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore, not of this. Not of everyday, normal life. To the contrary, she’d never again take it for granted.

      Off to the left of the path was the quaint white cottage where Chris lived. The large, front windows were shielded by drawn curtains, but light shone through, letting her know that Chris hadn’t yet gone to bed. Of course, he probably wouldn’t until Dare returned, because he felt responsible for her.

      Dare did, too.

      She wanted to be responsible for herself again.

      Leaves blew over the path, crunched under her feet. The chill breeze cut through her, but she embraced it. She was alive, and after thinking she might die in that sweltering-hot, squalid little hellhole, being cold reminded her that she hadn’t let them win.

      She’d held on—and then Dare had saved her.

      The dock squeaked and rocked as she walked out onto it. The light didn’t reach this far, and she felt safely concealed in shadows provided by the high walls of the boathouse to her right. She moved close to it, letting it block some of the wind.

      The moon painted a glow over the rippling surface of the lake, so beautiful that it engrossed her and further eased her angst. Molly sank down on the hard wooden planks with her knees drawn up close to her chest and wrapped the quilt tight around her.

      How long she sat there, she wasn’t sure. Her thoughts drifted over the present and the future. She thought of Dare, of what he’d done for her, but more importantly, of who he was. Not many men could ever be like him. No other man would affect her this way.

      Without even meaning to, she drew comparisons to Adrian, and felt like a fool. Now that she knew Dare, Adrian seemed less than insubstantial in every way. He didn’t have the strength of character or conviction that was such a part of Dare. He didn’t possess even a fraction of Dare’s honor and courage.

      And in no way did he possess the same sex appeal. Around Dare, she could not ignore her own sexuality—as she’d often done with Adrian.

      She couldn’t discount the incredible circumstances, because they had happened; they served as an impetus for everything that followed. But what she felt didn’t depend on what she’d suffered, or how Dare had saved her.

      If she’d met him back in Ohio, maybe while on a book tour, she still would have recognized him as an amazing man. She had to believe that.

      When she heard the sound of a car approaching high up on the road, she turned to see the headlights veer into the drive.

      She knew it was Dare, and relief left her boneless. She considered going up to greet him but … she wasn’t ready yet.

      Sitting there on the dock beneath the wide-open skies, snuggled into the quilt, feeling safe and serene kept her captivated. It enabled her to think objectively.

      More comparisons presented themselves as she thought of her abductors and how Dare helped her to put the ugliness into perspective.

      The men had hurt her, but Dare eased the pain.

      They had taunted her; Dare reassured her.

      They belittled her, and Dare showed her respect.

      He served as the antithesis to all the harsh, ugly memories. Through him, she could counter the remaining abhorrence and lingering fears.

      He soothed her fear, and her soul—even while inflaming her senses. She wanted him, not just his comfort, but so much more. Sleeping beside him made her feel safe, but it wasn’t enough, not when his nearness heated her blood and sharpened her desire almost painfully.

      Tonight, she’d make her feelings known to him.

      If he came to her.

      Not for a second did she doubt that Dare would know right where to find her, if he wanted to. But he could be tired; he could want to shower and sleep…. No.

      Their time together had been brief, but she already knew him, and she knew he would seek her out first thing. And so she waited for him.

      Like glittering diamonds, starlight reflected off every ripple in the surface of the lake. The lulling sound of gentle waves rolling up to the shoreline had eased her tension earlier, but now they amped up her awareness, heightening her senses. Molly concentrated on the feel of the cold air blowing off the lake and into her heated face.

      And she listened for Dare.

      Her heart began to pound, and her skin