Above All, Honor

Shortly after 5 a.m. the next morning, Blair pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and followed the scent of coffee. She found Helen seated at the large scarred wooden table, sipping the steaming brew and working on a crossword puzzle. Helen smiled a greeting and gestured toward the coffeepot.

"Thanks," Blair grunted, reaching for a cup. Moving slowly, she sat beside Helen at the table.

Helen glanced at her, then asked, "Where are your friends?"

Blair grimaced, blowing across the top of the liquid to cool it. "I'm sure theres someone right outside the back door, and another one in the dining room."

"Doesn't seem like much fun," Helen remarked.

Blair appraised her cautiously. She saw no hint of anything other than open frankness in her face. She allowed herself a brief smile. "Well, I could lie and say Im used to it. In fact, Iam used to it, but I've never learned to ignore it. It bothers me."

"I can imagine. On the other hand, I guess itis impossible to let you run around by yourself."

Blair laughed. "Apparently so."

Helen leaned back, scrutinizing the striking young woman across from her. This was not the sophisticated, perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President's daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.

"May I ask how you came to stay here?" Helen asked.

"Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here."

Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. "Two of my most favorite guests," she responded.

Blair met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. "I'm very fond of them."

"As am I," Helen responded. "You needn't be concerned about my discretion, Ms. Powell. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My only hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn't care less about your personal life."

Blair laughed. "Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that's true."

Helen laughed with her. "I think you may be right."

*********

An hour later, Cam walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the side board. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Cam nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.

"She's already out on the slopes," Helen commented.

"Yes, I know."

"I suppose you do," Helen said softly. "It must be very difficult for her."

Cam had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President's daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. "I imagine it is."

Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Blair and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Blair Powell had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall lanky security chief, and it seemed that Blair's best friend Diane was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little, unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely. When the others were engaged in conversation the dark-haired woman with the smoky grey eyes watched the President's daughter with a penetrating intensity that should have left marks on her skin. Helen had seen that look before, in the eyes of women who thought they knew their own hearts, and their own minds. In the eyes of women who refused to acknowledge the truth of their own feelings.

"It must be lonely for her. She could probably use of friend," Helen remarked quietly.

Cam sighed, and gently replaced her cup on the coffee table. She walked toward the fireplace, watching the bark glow red and crumble from the logs as they burned brightly to their own destruction. "She has friends. What she needs is to be free. That's something no one can give her."

"There are more ways than one to be free."

When Cam looked back, knowing she had no answers, she found she was alone.

*********

"You really shouldn't let Stark play pinochle. She's god awful, and a danger to herself. If she had been my partner, I would have murdered her," Blair commented as she joined Cam on the wide front deck of the ski lodge. The night was frigid, the air so crisp it tingled against her skin. The sky was impossibly black, with stars so bright, and so numerous, it felt as if she were standing on the edge of heaven. Their breath left small clouds of white crystals in the air around them. Despite the temperature, she was not cold. She had been waiting all evening for an opportunity to be alone with her security chief. Now that the time had come, her pulse raised and her belly stirred with an excitement she tried to ignore.

"Card playing is a necessity for a Secret Service Agent," Cam responded seriously, although the corners of her mouth turned up in a rare smile.

"Yes, I'm sure." Blair stepped closer until her body brushed the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was surprised when Cameron did not move away. "Then again, I'm sure that Secret Service agents need to be talented in many things."

Cam turned to face her, her eyes serious. "Ms. Powell, I know how difficult all of this is for you..."

"I don't think you do," Blair said, resting her gloved hand against Cam's shoulder. "It's damned inconvenient finding a way to get one's security chief into bed without creating a national scandal."

"Perhaps there's a message there."

"There may be, but I have no interest in it. All I'm interested in is you."

Cam stepped back just enough to break their contact. Blair Powell was easily the most attractive woman she ever known. If that weren't enough, Blair was touchingly vulnerable in her unguarded moments. Cam wished there were some way to ease the younger woman's pain. But she could not allow her sympathy to interfere with her effectiveness. She reminded herself that the beautiful seductress before her was not truly interested in her, but rather wanted to use her as the tool to break the chains of her invisible prison. Cameron knew this, and because she did, she ignored the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood into her loins.

"I'm afraid you have mistaken my attentions. Your physical well-being is my only concern. I am not interested in anything other than that."

Blair felt the words rip through her. Although her tone had been light and teasing, she had been serious about her offer to Cam. She had not approached a woman with true desire in more years then she could count. It hurt, this rebuke. Her pain angered her, and as she turned and walked rapidly toward the door, she called caustically, "Don't mistake lust for affection, Commander. My interest in you, as I believe you once said, is strictly biological."

Cameron watched her go, struggling with her own disappointment. Of course she knew that she was only a potential conquest, but that did not lessen the pain of Blair's words.

**********

A knock on her door brought Cam from deep sleep into adrenalized arousal in an instant. She grabbed her gun from the night table as her feet touched the floor. The bedside clock read 4:44 a.m. Cam looked through the peep hole and cursed silently to herself when she saw the figure on the other side. She opened the door an inch and whispered, "What is it, Stark?"

Paula Stark stared white faced at her boss. She swallowed once audibly, and licked her suddenly dry lips nervously. "I need to talk you, Commander."

"Can't it wait?"

"No ma'am, it can't."

Cam opened the door to admit her young subordinate, replacing her gun in its holster on her table. She switched on the bedside lamp and motioned Stark to a chair at the small desk in front of the windows. She sat down across from Stark and looked at her inquiringly. For a moment, she thought that Stark might cry.

"I need to be transferred," Stark stated flatly.

"Is there some reason you felt you needed to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?" Cameron asked sharply. She had a bad feeling she knew where this conversation was going.

"I needed to tell you now. I need to leave in the morning."

Cam sighed and leaned back from the table. She ran both hands briskly over face, then peered intently at the pale young woman across from her. "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"I--I don't feel I can continue to carry out my assignment."

"That's not what you told me two weeks ago," Cam stated.

Paula Stark raised her eyes to Cam's for the first time. Her shoulders stiffened slightly as she stated, "I hadn't slept with her then."

Something hard settled deep in the pit of Cam's stomach. She clenched her jaw to stifle the curse that leapt to her lips. She stood abruptly and paced to the other side of the room, turning so quickly in the small space that Stark flinched.

"Are you out of your mind?" Cam seethed, her fury barely contained. She knew instinctively she was handling this poorly, but her immediate reaction was one of deep-seated anger, and uncomfortably, something that felt a great deal like jealousy.

"I didn't know it was going to happen. It was--I don't know--it just, she--" Stark raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "She asked me, and I just couldn't say 'no'."

"Jesus Christ," Cameron muttered. Was there no end to the chaos that woman could create? Now she had to deal with the potential ruin of a very capable young woman's career. "How do you feel about her now?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. It was as if she had never considered the question before. "I don't know."

"Are you in love with her?" Cam asked quietly. For some reason, the words were hard to get out.

"I don't think so," Stark said, clearly embarrassed. "It was--physical."

"Yes, I'm sure it was," Cameron said under her breath. She refused to think about the two of them together, but it was difficult keeping the image of Blair making love with this woman from her mind. She shook her head, forcing herself to deal with the real issues at hand. "I wish that there was some way I could overlook this, but I can't. Even if you have no personal feelings for her, I can't trust you to be objective. I can't trust you not to allow your relationship with her to cloud your judgment. It could be dangerous for her-- and it could be dangerous for you."

Stark looked down at her folded hands resting on the tabletop, her expression one of abject misery. "I know. I've thought of nothing else for the last three hours. Ever since I left her room, I've been agonizing over what to do."

"Why did you tell me?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. "Because if you found out, it would ruin my credibility forever. I made a mistake, but I am not irresponsible."

Cameron looked at her with growing respect. Stark did not drop her gaze as Cameron studied her unwaveringly. "Can you swear to me that there is no romantic attachment between you and Ms. Powell?"

"Yes ma'am, I swear."

"You may continue with your post, Agent Stark. If I find that your judgment or performance is compromised in any way, I will transfer you immediately without regard for its impact on your career."

Stark stood, nearly at attention. "Yes ma'am, I understand ma'am. Thank you so much."

Cameron nodded, suddenly weary. As the door closed behind the young agent, Cameron stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the image of Blair Powell naked, her legs entwined with the shadowy figure of Paula Stark.