Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,76

my mind went back.”

She could see him struggling to explain, struggling to put into words how he had felt that day. She gripped his hand tighter.

“It was as though I knew in one part of my mind that I was home. I was safe. But another part of my mind wouldn’t accept that. It told me to fight, to shoot at the enemy. I can’t even bloody see, but all around I did see.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Your vision returned?”

“No. I think it was a memory. I saw a battlefield, men running, falling when shot, the spray of blood and the clash of bayonets. But it was so clear. It was like it was right in front of me. One part of my mind told me this is Duncan. He’s no threat. But the other part of me screamed, fire! Kill him before he kills you!

“And so I shot him. Thank God I couldn’t see and was drunk off my arse. I only shot him in the arm. I would have blown my own head off that day if I’d killed him.”

“Nash, no.” She clutched his arm tighter.

“The truth is, Pru, I do belong in an asylum. No sane man imagines those things. No sane man behaves that way.”

“You are sane, Nash. You were just frightened, and fear can make us behave in ways we don’t expect or understand.”

“There is one thing I understand,” he said, his voice carrying a note she did not like. “I’m a danger to you and to the other people around me.”

“How can you say that? After what we just shared? After the past few days? You are not dangerous.”

“Do you think I haven’t had good days or good weeks before?” She had been gripping his hand, but now he tightened his own grip almost painfully. “All it takes is one loud noise, one bang, and I’m back. If I think I’m in battle, if I think I’m being fired upon, I’m a danger.”

He took her shoulders in both hands, holding her so she could see his face fully, not only his profile. “You are not safe with me, Pru. You will never be safe. I may be able to avoid the asylum. I may be able to convince my father not to send me, but that doesn’t mean I can live like other men.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. But she knew what he was saying, and she didn’t want to hear it.

“I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone. I was living here at Wentmore, alone, because that was the only way I could keep from hurting others. Rowden came and upended that, and I know why he did it. But he won’t stay. And once he’s gone, I’ll send Clopdon and the footmen, and Mrs. Brown away again.”

“And me,” she said quietly.

“I have to.”

“You don’t.”

“But I will.” He released her, stood, felt for his discarded dressing gown, and pulled it on. Pru had the distinct feeling she was being dismissed. She didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like the silence in the room. She tilted her head, listening, and realized the rain had stopped. The world seemed almost too quiet now after the roar of the thunder and the finality of Nash’s words.

“Nash—”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his back to her as he fastened his robe. “I shouldn’t have given in tonight. I don’t regret it, but I should have realized it would make this...” His hand gestured vaguely. “More difficult.”

This. That’s what he called tonight. This.

Did the pronoun refer to the way he’d kissed her? The way he’d held her? The way he’d thrust inside her until they were both spent?

All of it? None of it?

She was a this and their lovemaking was a this and all of it was now difficult for him.

She tried not to feel hurt. She knew he was doing this to protect her. He was a protector, after all. His entire adult life had been spent in service to others. He was the one who stepped out from hiding and fired the shot to cover other men when there was danger. He was the one who had to make the hard decision of who lived and who died.

She couldn’t imagine having to make decisions like that, having to muster enough courage to step out from hiding in the midst of danger and expose oneself in order to protect others. And to do it all with a steady hand and