high—” she winced at the reminder of the conversation with Conall “—but, of course, it was scary and exciting, too.”
“Exciting?” He sounded incredulous. “I’ve never been so freaked in my life.”
“Really?”
“Don’t tell me you think it was exciting.”
“No. Heavens, no.” She wrapped her arms around herself to contain a shudder. “But me, I hate horror films and I don’t read anything meant to make me start listening for the creak of a footstep on the stairs. I’m a coward.”
“No.” His voice was a caress, astonishingly gentle. “That’s the last thing you are, Lia Woods. You have your own kind of courage. Loving these kids and letting them go, over and over.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Her eyes stung. So softly she wasn’t sure he heard, she whispered, “I don’t know how I do, either.”
There was a long, long pause. “You know we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”
Thank God he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that now dripped down her face. “I figured,” she said steadily.
“I’ll…miss you.”
Lia had to swallow several times before she could tell him, “You know we’ll all miss you, too.” But me most of all.
“Yeah, listen. Would you mind if I stayed in touch? Maybe called the boys, sent them postcards? At least until—” His voice, already hoarse, seemed to break. “Until they’ve moved on? And, uh, I’d like to hear what happens with Sorrel. You know.”
“I know.” She couldn’t wipe the tears away without him knowing they were falling. “Of course. Of course you can stay in touch. They’d like that.”
This silence was appalling. A deep, dark abyss.
“God, Lia!” he said explosively.
Holding in the agony, she said, “Would you— If you wouldn’t mind, I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.”
He pushed himself away from the railing, stared down at her for a moment, then took a few steps across the porch without saying another word.
Until she opened her mouth, Lia hadn’t known she was going to do it or what she was going to say. “Conall.”
Even without turning she knew he’d stopped.
“My bedroom door will be open tonight.”
His exhalation was audible and might even have been painful.
“I get bedroom privileges again along with the bathroom?” he said with unmistakable bitterness, then kept going.
Curled over, face pressed to her knees, Lia discovered that hearts didn’t break; they tore.
* * *
CONALL LAY IN BED raging at himself, as far from being ready to fall asleep as it was possible to get. How could he have been such an idiot? He’d had a chance to spend another night with Lia. There was nothing in life he wanted more than to make love with her again. And he’d blown it.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hurt by her accusation that he’d seen her as merely one more convenience to make his stay tolerable. He was still outraged when he remembered. How could she think that? Had he ever treated her in any way to suggest he didn’t value her?
God, that sounded anemic. Like her? Want her? Better, but still inadequate.
The house was quiet. He’d left his own bedroom door partially ajar, painfully aware that Lia’s wasn’t. He supposed that tomorrow night, once he was gone, she’d resume her usual habits. Tonight, she was sending him a signal.
You had your chance. Jerk.
Or maybe she was thinking something stronger.
Conall should have been tired. He was. His eyes were gritty and his head throbbed. The two-hour nap he’d taken today was the only sleep he’d had since the previous night. Sleep usually came easily for him. He’d learned to take advantage of any opportunity. He could sleep in the heat of the Mexican desert, wedged beneath a rock outcropping, one ear tuned for the rattle of a diamondback. A small boat, ripe with the smell of fish guts? No problem. A room in a hacienda where maintaining his cover was a daily balancing act and discovery would mean a certain and gruesome death? He could close his eyes, picture a velvety black sky studded with stars, and fall asleep as gently and certainly as a baby.
He was good at turning his mind off. What wasn’t so easy, he was discovering, was quieting this crackling static of emotions.
The truth was, he wished it wasn’t time to go yet. Eventually, sure, but…not yet. A few more weeks would be good. Long enough to see that Brendan was okay, that his misadventure hadn’t left any lingering terrors. Conall would have liked to keep working