Guarding Jeannie

"I don't want Reeves here, but there seems to be nothing we can do at the moment."

Turning around in her seat, Jeannie called out to Sam. "Is something wrong? Is there some problem I should know about?"

"Make sure he doesn't come anywhere near her," Sam told Hawk. "Stop him before I have to."

Hawk nodded, then made his way across the room, heading directly to the lounge area. Sam held out his hand to Jeannie. Staring up at him, she gave him a quizzical look.

"No problems," he lied, and wondered how long it would take her to realize the truth. "Hawk was just checking in with me." Sam wiggled his fingers. "Come on, Jeannie, dance with me."

He saw the warm, glowing light in her eyes die. Dammit! Had she already seen through his lie? Was she aware of Reeves's presence?

"I—I don't dance," she said.

"What?"

"I don't dance, because of my legs." She bowed her head deliberately, to avoid looking at Sam. "You know I can't walk without my cane. I can't dance. I'd only make a spectacle of myself if I tried."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Once, when I was a teenager. Miriam tried to teach me, but we soon realized it was hopeless. I'm not able to move without bracing myself with my cane."

Sam lifted her walking stick and handed it to her. "How about a stroll around the deck instead?"

Raising her head, she nodded agreement, a flicker of a smile forming on her lips. She stood, supporting herself with her cane, and took Sam's hand. He slipped his arm around her waist and led her away from the lounge area and out onto the open deck of the riverboat.

It was not quite eight-thirty, and the sun had just set. The summer twilight spread gold across the sky, gilding the clouds, as the aureate Gulf waters rhythmically bathed the tawny shore. The evening breeze, pleasant and soothing, caressed Jeannie's hair; several loose tendrils blew across her cheeks.

They walked the length of the deck, reaching a secluded corner. The music from the live band echoed on the wind and water. Sam slowed their walk, then halted. Jeannie glanced up at him.

"Are you going to tell me why you rushed me outside so quickly?" she asked, sensing the tension in Sam's big body, knowing from merely touching him that he was concerned about something.

Tightening his hold around her waist, he turned her to face him. He lifted her left hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Hold on tight," he said, then took her cane out of her hand. Gasping loudly, she grabbed his other shoulder with her right hand. He hung her cane on the deck rail.

"What are you doing?"

"We're going to dance. I'll support you securely in my arms. Trust me. You can dance. You can dance with me."

"Sam, no, I—"

"No one can see us. We're all alone out here."

"I can't. I—"

"Kick off your shoes, then lift your left foot and put it on top of mine," he told her.

"What?"

"Don't ask questions. Just do as I say."

She obeyed his command, stepping out of her shoes and placing her left foot on top of his. "I don't see how my stepping on your feet is going to—"

"Haven't you ever seen little girls dancing with their fathers?"

"You can't mean…"

"Put your right foot on mine. We're going to dance."

"I'm not a little girl. I'm a grown woman. And I'm not light as a feather."

"I'm a big man, with big feet," he said. "And you're a small woman, with small feet. You'll feel as light as a feather to me."

Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her right foot and placed it atop his. The moment the deed was completed, Sam moved, cautiously, without any sense of rhythm at first, allowing Jeannie a few moments to adjust to the new and unusual sensation of someone else actually walking for her. And that was all Sam did for a while, simply walked her backward and forward. With her arms draped around his neck, her body pressed intimately against his, she gradually relinquished all control to Sam. Her trust in him was that great.

"See how easy it is when you do what I tell you to do?"

She jerked her head up, glaring at him, but when he smiled, she smiled, too, unable to resist the magnetism of his smile. No wonder he didn't do it often, or so completely. His smile was devastating.

"You like being right, don't you?" Laying her head on his chest, she cuddled closer, and was pleased when she heard his indrawn breath.

"Yeah, I like being right." With one hand still bracing her back, he eased his other hand downward, from her waist to the curve of her buttocks.

The romantic strains of "I Love How You Love Me" floated on the night air, strings and brass blending into a sweet harmony. Sam moved his big body to the soft, slow melody, encompassing Jeannie in his embrace as he carried her across the deck, her small feet welded atop his much larger ones. Their bodies swayed in perfect unison, in tune with each other and the flow of the music.

She closed her eyes, absorbing the beauty of the moment, allowing herself to enjoy the pleasure of dancing and the joy of being in Sam Dundee's strong arms. She had never known anything like this incredible sensation. Dancing. Dancing in Sam's arms. Gliding across the floor as if she had wings on her feet.

Opening her eyes, she glanced over Sam's shoulder and saw the pale form of the moon, the darkening sky and the first glimmer of a twinkling star. She tilted her head.

Sam looked down at her. She smiled at him. Lowering his head, he rubbed his cheek against hers.

"Thank you," she said, then closed her eyes again, sighing, wishing this moment could last forever. Sam had given her this gift. Dancing in the moonlight.

She could not imagine any woman not wanting to be in Sam Dundee's arms. He was so incredibly handsome, so big and powerful. So absolutely debonair in his black tux and unadorned white shirt. In the pale moonlight, his blond hair had turned to burnished flaxen silk, and his eyes had warned to a smoldering slate blue.

As he waltzed her around the deck, Jeannie sensed the hazy glow she often felt just before connecting with another person's emotions. Then she felt the tiny electrical currents of awareness that came when she began picking up signals from within the other person. She could block these feelings if she tried hard enough, if she ended the physical contact. But this was Sam, unguarded and receptive. How could she not take the opportunity to share what he was feeling?

Jeannie. Sweet Jeannie. She was the very embodiment of femininity, of a woman's loving, nurturing nature. Her generous heart exposed her to the pain of others, and her healing touch absorbed that pain. How unfair life was, that a woman this gentle and kind had the ability to suffer the most excruciating pain for others, even healing them on a temporary basis, and yet was unable to ease her own pain, either physical or emotional.

Sam ran his hand over her buttocks, savoring the feel of the light peach silk covering her body. Pressing her against him, into his arousal, he kissed the top of her head. She sighed.

He wanted to take her mouth, to lift her in his arms and carry her away, to bury himself deep within her body. And he wanted her to know exactly how he felt. Slowing his movements, he danced her back against the wooden surface of the outer wall. She made no protest, verbally or telepathically. Indeed, she welcomed him, clinging to him, sending him a silent message of acceptance.

Lifting her off his feet, anchoring her between his hard body and the wall, supporting her with his arms, Sam circled her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her moist lips opened, issuing him an invitation. On the verge of losing his reason, he kissed her. She returned the kiss, enticing him with her body and her mind. He read her clearly, and knew she understood precisely what he wanted from her.

Her kisses were pure sweet fire, burning him in their intensity. Throwing caution to the wind, he devoured her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, gripping her buttocks, straining against her. She clung to him, joining fully in the savagery of his kiss, returning full measure the heat of his passion.

He knew that she felt what he felt, wanted what he wanted. And in a sudden, blinding flash of realization, Sam sensed her physical yearning and her emotional desires. My God, it wasn't possible! He couldn't have actually tapped into her feelings.

The pleasure for both of them intensified, building higher and higher as they kissed and touched, their bodies undulating to the sensuous beat of primeval mating. He wanted to rip her clothes off her body and take her, here, now, with no thought of the consequences.

He had to stop, or there would be no turning back. He ended the kiss, his breathing ragged, his face and hands damp with sweat. Jeannie pressed her face against his shoulder.

"Oh, Sam … Sam…"

He eased her slowly to her feet, slipped his arm around her and held her close. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart. When she tried to comfort him by taking some of his throbbing need into her own body, he stopped her, knowing she ached with the same painful desire that racked him from head to toe.

"I can handle it," he said. "I may not be as strong as you are, angel, but I'll survive until—" he cupped the back of her head in his big hand "—until you take away this sweet ache when we make love."

"Tonight," she whispered, not knowing where his desire ended and hers began.

"Tonight," he agreed, kissing her again, but ending the kiss quickly. "Come on, Jeannie, dance with me again."

"Oh, yes, Sam, I'd like that. I'd like that very much."

With her arms draped around his neck and her feet atop his, Jeannie surrendered herself to the sensual pleasure of dancing with Sam. He glided her across the deck, the soft evening breeze caressing their bodies as the twilight shadows surrounded them.

Glancing over Jeannie's shoulder, Sam saw Hawk standing in the doorway. Hawk nodded, then returned inside the restaurant. Quickly Sam checked his watch. They'd been on deck nearly an hour; it was time for Hawk to report in. Was Reeves still aboard the Royal Belle? Sam wondered, still trying to figure out why the reverend had made an appearance tonight. There was something not quite right about Reeves showing up at this charity function.

Feeling the sudden jolt of unease that hit him in the stomach, Jeannie looked at him, willing him to explain. He walked her to the deck's rail, removed her cane and placed it in her hand. Bending on one knee, he lifted her foot and slipped on her shoe, then repeated the process with her other foot.

He started walking them around the deck, but she halted, and he had little choice but to stop. Trying to block his emotions so that she couldn't pick up on them, Sam refused to look at her.

"What's the problem?" she asked. "What do you not want me to know?"

"There's no problem. I've got everything under control. Enjoy the evening, and don't worry." There was no need for her to know that Maynard Reeves was on board the Royal Belle. Hawk and Kane would follow orders and keep the man away from Jeannie.

She knew Sam wasn't going to tell her what was bothering him. She appreciated his wanting to protect her from any unpleasantness, but at the same time, she resented his treating her as if she were made of spun glass, some fragile, easily broken doll. With an unexpected flash of clarity, she heard the words fragile angel, and knew she'd read Sam's thoughts, without his knowledge.

He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand, caressing her tenderly. "How long do you have to stay at this function in order to be socially correct?"

"I need to make an appearance in the gaming room." There was no point in pressing him about whatever was bothering him. Sooner or later, even if he chose not to share it with her, she would sense it. "We can play the slot machines or try the blackjack table. It doesn't matter, as long as I lose some money to set an example for the other guests."

"I suppose knowing their losses are going to a worthy cause will make losing a little easier."

Leading her inside to the restaurant level, Sam glanced toward the lounge. No sight of Maynard Reeves or Hawk, but Kane was headed in Sam's direction.

"I need to speak to Kane," Sam said. "Would you mind waiting back at the table for a few minutes?"

"All right." She patted him on the arm. "It's only a couple of yards away. I can walk over there without your help."

Acting as if he hadn't heard her, Sam escorted her to their table and seated her, then turned around and met his agent. Pulling Kane aside, making sure Jeannie couldn't overhear their conversation, Sam placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Where's Reeves?"

"Hawk followed him and his lady friend downstairs into the gaming room," Kane said.

"Did you get any information on the woman?"

"She's an invited guest, a widow whose husband left her millions."

"Any idea what her connection is to Reeves?" Sam was aware of how charming Reeves might be to a lonely widow with plenty of money in the bank and the right social connections.

"She's a new convert to his Righteous Light Church." Kane hesitated, drew in a deep breath and looked Sam straight in the eye. "She has a daughter who's a student at the Howell School."

"Damn!"

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Sam. After your briefing on the situation, my instincts tell me Reeves has some sick reason for being here tonight."

"Yeah, my instincts tell me the same thing. But he hasn't tried to approach Jeannie. He hasn't even made a scene by preaching against the sins of gambling, when I know for a fact that he's given the casino owners hell for the past few years."

"There's something going on we don't know about."

"Go down and tell Hawk not to let Reeves out of his sight. I'll have to bring Jeannie downstairs. Even if I can't keep her from seeing him, I can make sure he doesn't come near her."

Nodding his agreement, Kane headed straight for the exit. Sam walked over to Jeannie, helped her to her feet and escorted her to the elevator.

They entered the elaborately decorated gaming room, which was crowded with the cream of Mississippi Gulf society. Sam spotted Hawk's black ponytail, then saw Maynard Reeves and his date standing a few feet to the agent's right, with colas in their hands, observing the gamblers.

Jeannie followed Sam's line of vision. Her muscles tensed, freezing her to the spot, the moment she saw Maynard Reeves. "That's what you didn't want me to know, isn't it?"

"He's not going to bother you. I promise." Sam squeezed her hand.

"How did he—? I don't believe it," she said. "He's with Danette Suddath. Her daughter Missy is a student at the Howell School. I've known Danette socially for years."

"She's a new convert to the Righteous Light Church," Sam told her.

"He's taking advantage of her." Jeannie gripped her cane fiercely. "She's lonely and insecure, and trying to raise a Down's syndrome child alone. There's no telling what sort of lies that snake has told her."

"Danette Suddath isn't my concern," Sam said. "It's not that he's used her to get into this private party tonight that worries me, but why he's here."

"I can find out." She took a step away from Sam.

He held her back. "No!" He hissed the word between clenched teeth.

"Tell me that you don't feel the danger. It's all around us. There's something terribly wrong, and you know it as well as I do."

"Don't try to play mind games with Reeves," Sam said. "If anyone's powers come from the devil, I'd say his do."

"His psychic powers are limited, and very weak. I'm far stronger than he is." She noticed the skeptical frown on Sam's face. "Comparatively speaking, Reverend Reeves is a little squall and I'm a full-fledged hurricane."

"Well, Ms. Hurricane, you aren't going to—"

"I can do it from across the room, from where I'm standing now, but it would be easier if I were close enough to touch him. I can sense feelings and emotions without touching, but the sensations are usually very faint, too weak for me to completely connect with the person."

"No." He didn't give a damn about her ability to sense Reeves's emotions, and thus discern the reason he'd suckered some poor woman into bringing him here tonight. He wasn't going to let Jeannie anywhere near that lunatic.

She wouldn't argue with Sam now, Jeannie decided. She'd bide her time and figure out some way of getting closer to Maynard Reeves.

"Let's join Julian and Marta at the craps table." Jeannie waved at her foster father, who smiled and returned her wave.

Sam watched while Jeannie won a thousand dollars at craps, then methodically lost two thousand. While he kept a close eye on her, he occasionally sought out Hawk, knowing Reeves would be within spitting distance. The good reverend and his date circled the gaming room slowly, Reeves smiling and laughing and flirting with the widow.

"I think we'll call it a night," Julian said, bending to kiss Jeannie on the cheek. "It's nearly eleven. Time for a man my age to be going to bed."

"See you tomorrow." Jeannie waved goodbye as the older couple left.

Ten minutes later, Sam escorted Jeannie to the ladies' room. Waiting outside impatiently, he noticed Hawk following Reeves and his date, who were coming in Sam's direction. His muscles tightened. His nerves came to full alert. When Reeves was within three feet of him, Sam stepped forward, but the other man ignored him, turning in the opposite direction, heading toward the doors leading out on deck. At that precise moment, Jeannie ventured out of the rest room. Sam stepped in front of her.

She walked around Sam and reached out, just grazing Reeve's sleeve before Sam grabbed her hand. Reeves jerked around, his gaze focusing on Jeannie as a wide smile spread across his face.

"Good evening, Jeannie," Reeves said. "What more appropriate place to find Satan's daughter than in one of his houses of sin?"

"Reeves, I'm warning you…" Sam said.

Reeves glanced behind him to where Hawk stood, then laughed aloud. "A host of fallen angels guarding the master's offspring. How appropriate."

"Danette, what are you doing with Maynard Reeves?" Jeannie asked.

Danette Suddath gasped, apparently startled by Jeannie's question. "Don't speak to me, you witch. Reverend Reeves has warned us all about your evil powers. If you ever return to the Howell School, I'll withdraw Missy immediately."

"Danette, how can you believe—" Jeannie reached out her hand "—this man's lies? You've known me for years."

Danette lifted her hand as if she intended to touch Jeannie, but Reeves slapped Danette's hand away, and when he did, Jeannie grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his. For a split second, he froze, fear etched on his face.

She sensed his anger and his hatred. Such cruel, ugly hatred. And a thirst for retribution.

Tonight they will die. All of these sinners will reap what they've sown. And the witch will burn with them. The flames will wipe them from the face of the earth and cleanse us of their evil.

Reeves jerked his hand away at the same moment Sam grabbed Jeannie. Hawk closed in, gripping the reverend by the shoulder. Reeves pulled out of Hawk's grasp. He whispered something to Danette Suddath, and the two of them rushed out the door.

"Let them go," Sam said.

"No!" Jeannie cried. "Stop Maynard Reeves!"

Sensing her need for him, Sam turned just as she swayed toward him and dropped her cane to the floor. He caught her in his arms. "Jeannie?"

Gripping the lapels of his tuxedo, she gazed up at Sam. He recognized the fear in her eyes. "What's wrong? You picked up something from his emotions when you touched him, didn't you?"

Jeannie gasped for air, the hatred and anger she had tapped into when she connected with Maynard Reeves still swirling around inside her. "Get everyone out… Get them off … now… Something's wrong. He—he's going to destroy this riverboat, and everyone on board."

Chapter 9

« ^ »

Sam lifted Jeannie into his arms, then turned to Hawk. "Contact Kane immediately. The two of you work with security to evacuate the casino."

"What the hell do I tell the security chief?" Hawk asked.

"Tell him—" Sam said.

"Fire. Flames. Destruction." Jeannie spoke the words as if reciting a chant.

"A bomb?" Hawk asked.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "That would be my guess."

Hawk removed his small cellular phone from his jacket, speaking to Kane as he walked to the elevator with Sam and Jeannie. Redialing the phone, he spoke quickly, issuing orders. Returning the phone to his pocket, he held the elevator door.

"Kane's on his way to look for Reeves, and I've alerted the casino's security chief to the situation. I'll start evacuating this level as soon as I have a couple of men up here to help me keep everyone in line. Once this thing gets under way, more than one person is bound to panic."

"Sam?" Jeannie's voice was a little stronger, but she could barely open her eyes.

"I'm getting you out of here now," he said.

"Tell them… Hurry. Soon, I think. Soon."

Hawk looked at Sam, who nodded. Hawk stepped back, the elevator door closed, and Sam drew Jeannie closer to his body as she cuddled against him. When they reached the bottom level of the Royal Belle, Sam noticed the security guards in a huddle. Hawk and Kane weren't wasting any time. Good. If Jeannie's instincts were correct, and he had no doubt they were, disaster could strike at any moment. If Reeves intended destroying the gambling casino's patrons en masse, Jeannie included, the most likely means would be a bomb, or several bombs, strategically placed.

Sam carried Jeannie out on deck, down the wide gangplank that connected the Royal Belle to the dock, and onto shore.

"There's Marta and Julian," Sam said. "They're in the parking lot. Julian sees us."

"Take me to him, please. I'll—I'll have to explain what's happening."

Before they reached Marta's Mercedes, Julian was hurrying toward them, his eyes wide and questioning. "What's wrong?"

"Reeves…" Jeannie said. "I think he placed bombs on the riverboat."

"My God!" Julian touched Jeannie's cheek, his hand trembling, then looked at Sam. "You must get her away from here. And the casino must be evacuated."

"An evacuation is in the works as we speak." Sam lowered Jeannie to her feet, holding her close, bracing her against his body. "As soon as Kane apprehends Maynard Reeves, I'll send him with you and Marta to take Jeannie home."

"Sam?" Jeannie covered his hand with hers. He glanced at her and understood, without words, what she was asking.

"It could be dangerous if you stay here," he said.

"I can't leave. Not until everyone is safely onshore."

"If there is a bomb…"

God, he hated the very thought of it. "Even if everyone gets out safely, once the bomb explodes, there's going to be a mad rush. You have no idea what the scene of a bombing looks like. And if people are hurt, you're going to want to help them. I can't let you do that. Can you understand? I won't let you suffer anyone else's pain."

"I have to wait. I can't leave." Not when you're staying, she wanted to say, but didn't.

Tilting his head back, Sam stared up at the starry night sky. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths. He couldn't allow her to stay and wait for the worst to happen. Enduring pain of that magnitude could kill her. Even if she was willing to take the chance, he wasn't.

Sam saw Morgan Kane searching the parking lot for him. Lifting his hand, Sam motioned to his agent. He didn't have Reeves with him. What had he done with the man?

Kane rushed over to Sam. "Reeves got away. He and his date were getting into her BMW by the time I found them. I tried to stop them, but the woman nearly ran me down. By the time I got to my car, they were lost in traffic on the boulevard."

"Damn! The police can't touch him without some evidence." Sam balled his right hand into a fist, wishing he could smash Reeves's pretty face. If he could have gotten hold of Reeves and questioned him before the police arrived, he might have been able to get the truth out of the bastard. "Look, Kane, make sure Jeannie gets home safe and sound. I'm going back in to help with the evacuation."

Jeannie lifted Sam's tight fist into her hand. "I'm not leaving. Not until everyone on board is safe and you can take me home yourself."

"Now is not the time to argue with me."

"Go do what you have to do, and take Mr. Kane with you. I'll be safe here with Julian and Marta."

"I don't think—"

"Give Julian your gun." Jeannie squeezed Sam's hand. "He knows how to use it. Don't you, Julian?"

"Give me the gun, and you two men go get those people off the riverboat," Julian said. "Maynard Reeves is nowhere around. I think I can protect Jeannie for the time being."

Music from the Royal Belle drifted in the air. The Gulf waters lapped at the sides of the big riverboat.

"Look!" Marta said. "People are crossing the gangplank by the dozens. The decks are filled with people."

Sam removed his Ruger from his holster and handed it to Julian. "If we're lucky, this will be a false alarm." He lifted Jeannie up onto the hood of Marta's Mercedes. "I wish to hell you'd go home, where I know you'd be safe."

She tugged on his sleeve, drawing him down toward her, then kissed his cheek. "Be careful."

Jeannie sat there watching Sam and Kane go back aboard the Royal Belle. Dear God, what if the bombs exploded while Sam was aboard? What if he died? No, no, no. She couldn't allow herself to think that way. She had to stay calm and prepare herself to help the injured.

"Julian, do you have your medical bag with you?" Jeannie asked.

"No," he said. "I was thinking the same thing. If there is an explosion, I'll be needed, won't I?"

As streams of people exited the casino, some running, some walking slowly, with dazed looks on their faces, a few women in tears, the loud wail of sirens could be heard in the distance. Within minutes, three police cars pulled up, each one blocking a gangplank entrance to the riverboat. Sam recognized Lieutenant Painter's bulky form and shock of silver hair.

The policemen, aided by the Royal Belle's security force, kept order as best they could. Only a few people panicked, creating a disruptive scene that slowed the mass exodus from the riverboat.

"There's so much fear in the atmosphere," Jeannie said. "All those people are afraid they're going to die before they reach safety." She sensed impending doom. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer, asking for the strength to do all she could to help those who needed her. And she asked for Sam's safety.

People rushed into the parking area. Cars roared to life. Within minutes, a huge traffic jam existed, and a sleek black Jaguar collided with a Ford pickup truck.

Boom! Boom! The thundering roar of an explosion rent the night air. Jeannie screamed. Marta grabbed her hand as the three of them gazed at the Royal Belle. Fire shot straight up, lighting the darkness, streaking the sky with flames. The force of the explosion tossed the people on the gangplank forward. Most of them landed flat on their faces on the ground. A few were flung into the water. Terrified screams mingled with the sizzle of the fires and the echo of the bomb blasts.

Boom! Boom! Another explosion? Two bombs? Maybe more. This shouldn't be happening; it wouldn't be, if Maynard Reeves was not so determined to kill her.

Where was Sam? Please, dear God, let him be all right.

"Do you see Sam anywhere?" Jeannie asked.

"No," Julian said. "But you mustn't worry, my dear. Mr. Dundee can take care of himself."

Two ambulances arrived in quick succession. Lieutenant Painter issued orders in his gruff, commanding voice. Medics quickly attended to the injured, while two policemen tried to control the traffic.

Jeannie saw Morgan Kane in the middle of the panicked crowd, an unconscious woman in his arms. He handed her to a medic and returned to the forefront, immersing himself in the madness. Then she noticed a soaking-wet Hawk dragging himself out of the Gulf waters and onto shore.

"He's hurt," Jeannie said, straining forward, but unable to walk. "Please. I must do something. I can't just stand here and watch. Maynard Reeves did this because of me."

"This isn't your fault," Julian said. "You musn't feel guilty."

"Please, Julian, I have to find Sam. I have to know he's all right. And I can help Mr. Hawk, and all these other people."

"You aren't going anywhere. Do you hear me? You aren't to try to search for Mr. Dundee. He'll make his way to you. And don't go trying to help these people. There will be too many injuries. You'll endanger your own life if you try to save them." Julian handed Marta Sam's Ruger. "I want you and Marta to wait inside the car. I'll go see what I can do to help."

"I should he helping, too." Jeannie looked at Julian with the wide-eyed innocence of a child, her voice pleading, her expression beseeching. "I will feel guilty if I don't try to help these people. Please, Julian. I'll only help those who are seriously injured, those in the most pain."

"Think what it would do to you," he said. "There are too many injured people for you to help them all."

"But if I don't try to help them, my mental torment will hurt me far worse."

"It would be too dangerous. You will stay in the car until Mr. Dundee comes for you."

Julian and Marta assisted Jeannie into the Mercedes, and then Julian rushed off, speaking to the ambulance attendants and medics.

Once Julian was out of sight, Jeannie turned to Marta. "I have to find Sam. Please, Marta. See if you can find him. If you speak to Mr. Hawk or Mr. Kane, maybe they can help you find Sam."

"I can't leave you here alone." Marta shook her head. "Don't ask me to go against Julian's wishes."

"I'll lock the door," Jeannie said. "You can leave Sam's gun with me. Please, Marta. I'm very worried about Sam. if something weren't terribly wrong, he would have come back by now."

"I don't know. Julian will be very upset with me."

* * *

Sam swam to shore, dragging an elderly gentleman, one of over a dozen people he'd fished out of the water since the second explosion had hit. Hauling the unconscious man to shore, Sam called out for a passing medic, then saw Dr. Howell, down on one knee, giving a hysterical young woman an injection.

If Howell was helping the victims, who was guarding Jeannie? Lifting the wounded man in his arms, Sam carried him to where Dr. Howell and the medics had set up a makeshift emergency room in the parking lot while they waited for more ambulances to make return trips from the local hospitals.

Sam laid the man on the ground, then clasped Dr. Howell's shoulder. "Where's Jeannie?"

Julian gasped, then smiled when he saw Sam. "Thank God you're all right. Jeannie is beside herself with worry."

"Where is she?"

"She and Marta are in the car. Locked in. And Marta has your Ruger." Julian grabbed Sam's wrist. "She's bound and determined to help these people. I know Jeannie. If it's possible, she'll find a way."

"What would it do to her to try to help this many people?"

"It could kill her," Julian said.

Sam's chest tightened with fear. The sickening taste of panic rose in his throat. "I'll make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

A weak smile faded from Julian's lips. He nodded. Sam made his way across the parking lot, stepping around people lying on the ground and speaking to the policemen he passed. He scanned the area, wondering where Kane and Hawk might be, hoping they were both all right.

Lieutenant Painter stopped Sam, questioning him about Maynard Reeves and how Jeannie had known there were bombs set to explode aboard the Royal Belle. Sam gave the lieutenant all the information he had, knowing it wouldn't be enough to arrest Reeves.

"I'll haul him in for questioning," Painter said. "But unless we can find some solid evidence to link him to this bombing, then he'll get off scot-free."

"Then you'd better find some sort of evidence, and soon," Sam said. "Otherwise—"

"Don't step over the line, Dundee. You're one of the good guys, remember?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam checked his watch. The damn thing was still running, even though the crystal was broken. Nearly two hours had passed since all hell had broken loose. Most of the parking lot had been cleared, and half a dozen ambulances had taken the injured to hospitals in Biloxi and surrounding towns. Several dozen people remained, waiting for returning ambulances.

Sam spotted Morgan Kane standing near the one remaining ambulance. As he drew near Kane's side, Sam looked inside the ambulance, and for one split second his heart stopped. Jeannie sat beside a badly burned dark-haired woman, holding her hand, absorbing her pain.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam gripped Kane's shoulder. "How did she get here?"

"Ms. Alverson sent Ms. McCorkle to look for you, and when she couldn't find you, she told me Ms. Alverson wanted to see me."

"You took Jeannie out of the car? You brought her here?" Sam's facial muscles tensed. He glared at Kane. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"She said she wanted to help these people, and she told me it would be all right with you as long as I was with her." Kane reached inside his jacket, pulled out Sam's Ruger and handed it to him. "She gave me this. It's yours, isn't it?"

Sam stuck the gun in his holster. "How many people has she helped?"

"How many?"

"Yeah, how many?"

"Ten, maybe twelve."

Sam cursed, the words strong and expressive.

"Hey, I don't know what the hell she's been doing," Kane said, "but every person she touched seemed to get better instantly."

"Didn't you happen to notice that she's been suffering more and more every time she helped another person?" Sam knew exactly what she'd been doing. She'd gone from person to person, alleviating their pain, absorbing enough of their suffering to reduce their chances of dying. Just thinking about what she'd put herself through tormented Sam.

"Where's Marta McCorkle?"

"She stayed with Ms. Alverson until a few minutes ago, then she left to look for Dr. Howell," Kane said. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry if by doing what Ms. Alverson asked I put her in some sort of danger. I haven't left her side for a second."

"Forget it," Sam said. "The damage's done. Besides, I know how persuasive Jeannie can be."

Releasing his hold on Kane, Sam stepped up into the ambulance. Jeannie was too deep into her healing trance to see him. Her colorless face was streaked with tears—the tears of others. He jerked her away from the burned woman. Jeannie groaned, then opened her eyes and stared at him.

"Sam, no. Please, just this one more. She's in so much pain." Jeannie tried to lift her hand to clutch Sam's sleeve. Her hand wouldn't cooperate. She let it fall to her side.

"You're in pain," he told her, pulling her out of the ambulance and lifting her into his arms. "You're so weak you can't even lift your hand. I'm taking you home. Now."

"But I can't—"

"We're not discussing it."

Standing just outside the open doors of the ambulance, Sam motioned to Kane. "After you and Hawk make your statements to the police and get a once-over in ER, fly back to Atlanta and take a few days off."

Jeannie squirmed in Sam's arms. "I don't want to leave. These people are suffering … because of me, because … Maynard Reeves wanted … to kill me."

Not only was Sam not going to allow Jeannie to do any more healing tonight, but once he took her home, he had no intention of allowing her out in public again. Somehow he'd persuade her to leave town, If Reeves was determined to see the "witch" burn, Jeannie wouldn't be safe anywhere Reeves could find her.

Ignoring Jeannie's pleas, Sam spoke to Kane again. "Phone J.T. and tell him to call in as many favors as need be, but I want something found on Reeves that can give the police reason to force him to stay away from Jeannie." Sam knew that, somewhere out there, someone knew something about Reeves's past dealings. A thirty-two-year-old zealot with obvious mental problems was bound to have screwed up, at least once, in the past.

Jeannie took a deep breath. "Sam Dundee!" Her voice trembled. "If you don't let me help these people, I'll … I'll never forgive … you. Don't you see? It's my … fault."

He felt her exhaustion in every cell of his body, his nerve endings alert to her weakness. And he knew she was exerting her last ounce of strength to fight him.

"Lift your hand and touch my face," Sam told her. "Let's see if you have the strength to do more than you've already done."

She tried, but her hand would not cooperate. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Damn you, Sam. Damn … you." With that said, her energy expended, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Holding her close, Sam carried her away from the death and destruction that surrounded them.

* * *

Sam opened the French doors that led out onto the upstairs balcony. Dawn light coated the eastern horizon, to the left of the Howell home. Overhead, a pink glow coated the charcoal sky. A warm, pleasant breeze blew in off the gulf. Sam looked across the road at the deserted beach and, just beyond, the pale gray water.

Turning his head, he glanced into the bedroom, checking once again on Jeannie. She had thrown off the sheet and light blanket, leaving her body, from the waist up, exposed to the early-morning air. She had slept fitfully the past few hours, occasionally moaning in her sleep. But she seemed peaceful for the moment, her face serene, her breathing evenly paced.

Beautiful beyond compare, Sam thought. With her waist-length hair spread out over her pillow and across her shoulder, she lay there in the floor-length cream silk gown Ollie had put on her early yesterday morning, when Sam brought her home from the Royal Belle disaster. She had been asleep more than twenty-four hours. When Julian rushed home yesterday, he had assured Sam that it was perfectly normal for Jeannie to require extended periods of rest after using her extraordinary skills, especially to the extent she'd used them after the casino bombing.

Sam had left Jeannie's side only long enough to shower and change clothes. Ollie had remained with her, bathing her and slipping her into a gown. Sam hadn't eaten all day yesterday, until Ollie brought him his dinner on a tray. She'd threatened his life if he didn't eat every bite of the hearty meal.

Julian had spent the past twenty hours at the hospital. Although officially retired, he was needed, because of the sheer number of patients brought in from the Royal Belle.

Last night, Sam had slept at Jeannie's side, holding her in his arms whenever she cried—and she'd cried often—never once waking. He had wondered how long it would take her to recover from the ordeal she'd experienced. What could it possibly be like to endure that much pain and anguish?

If he could have stopped her, he would have. When he should have been taking care of her, he'd been busy saving other people's lives—just as, in her own way, Jeannie had been.

Sam looked back at the vastness of the ocean, the endless water and sky. In a few hours, traffic would begin to move, the beach would slowly fill, the all-nighters would leave the casinos and the early-morning crowds would arrive. And the local and state authorities would continue to sift through the remains of the Royal Belle for evidence. They'd keep questioning employees and patrons alike, hoping someone could shed some light on whoever had planted the bombs.

Awaking with a start, Jeannie sat straight up in bed, her mouth forming a silent cry. She glanced down at her body, then at her bed and around the room. Someone had removed her clothes, slipped on her gown and put her to bed. Sam? She smiled. Sam and Ollie.

A soft breeze surrounded her, chilling her bare arms. She hugged herself, took in a deep breath and blinked her eyes several times. The room lay in semidarkness, the only light coming from the windows, the faint, rosy illumination of daybreak.

She saw Sam standing on the balcony, his broad shoulders slightly drooped. He's tired, she thought, and worried. He wore dark slacks, slightly wrinkled. Had he slept beside her during the night? She had a vague memory of being held in his arms, a faded recollection of his wiping away her tears.

Usually the epitome of the well-dressed gentleman, Sam looked a bit disheveled in his wrinkled slacks, the tails of his pale blue shirt hanging around his hips, his hair windblown.

She searched the room, looking for a walking cane. Her favorite, a gift from Miriam, had probably burned inside the Royal Belle. Jeannie shuddered at the memory, the sound of the explosions echoing in her ears as well as the cries of wounded people. So many people in pain.

She wanted to go to Sam, to tell him that she was all right and that she forgave him for being so bossy and high-handed. She'd been so tired, so completely drained, that she hadn't been rational. Sam had done the right thing in forcing her to leave the disaster area.

Moving to the side of the bed, Jeannie slid her legs off the edge. She had no idea how she looked. She couldn't see a mirror from where she sat. Threading her fingers through her hair, she combed it to each side, allowing the mass to fall down her back. She lifted the twisted bodice of her gown to properly cover her breasts and smoothed out the wrinkles over her stomach and legs.

"Sam." Her voice sounded weak and very faint, even to her own ears.

He turned quickly. The moment he saw her, his lips curved into that seldom-used but devastating smile. "Jeannie." With a few giant steps, he was at her side, kneeling, slipping his arms around her.

She cradled his head in her lap and caressed his head, her fingers brushing over the stubble of his cheeks. He hadn't shaved, she realized. Since when? How long had she been asleep?

"This isn't the morning after the casino bombing, is it?" she asked.

Lifting his head, he looked up into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to protect her from the world, from all the ugliness, from a truth he could not change. "You've been asleep over twenty-four hours. Do you remember fainting in the back of the ambulance?"

"Yes, sort of. I remember telling you I'd never forgive you if you made me leave."

"I did what I thought was best for you. I brought you home." Sam rose to his feet, then sat down beside her on the bed. "Ollie undressed you and washed you and put you in your gown while I took a shower and changed clothes."

"You've stayed with me all this time, haven't you? You even slept with me last night."

"How do you know all that?"

"I sensed your presence." She leaned against him; he put his arm around her waist.

"How do you feel?" He kissed her forehead.

"Tired. But I'm all right."

"You did too much."

"It was a horrible disaster. So many injured people." She clutched Sam's hand. "Did anyone die?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Two of the casino's security men didn't make it off the riverboat. They were caught in the bottom-deck explosion. Only those two. There are about a dozen in critical condition, but, luckily, we had evacuated almost the entire casino when the bombs exploded."

"Have the police arrested Maynard Reeves?"

"They have no evidence against Reeves."

"But I know he's responsible." She bit her fingers into Sam's arm, tugging on his sleeve. "I sensed all those horrible emotions inside him. He couldn't block what he was feeling."

"I know, Jeannie. I know." Sam tried to soothe her, stroking her back with one hand while he cupped her chin in the other. "But they can't arrest Reeves just because you say you sensed his guilt."

She pulled away from Sam, covering her face with her hands as she bowed her head. She sat there for several minutes, then tossed back her head, squared her shoulders and turned to Sam. "I need some fresh air. Find me a cane, please. And walk out on the balcony with me."

"I can carry you outside." He stood, but before he could lift her, she threw up her hand to stop him.

"I want to walk." She nodded toward the huge, ornately carved wardrobe. "Look in the wardrobe. There should be two or three canes in there."

Sam obeyed her command without hesitation. He'd learned that sometimes it was easier not to fight Jeannie, especially when she was damned and determined to have her own way. He retrieved a black metal walking stick, with a gold tip and a fancy flower design engraved on the handle.

Handing her the cane, he watched while she positioned the tip on the floor and lifted herself to her feet. He walked behind her, not touching her, and followed her out onto the balcony. The downstairs veranda and the upstairs balcony surrounded the three-story antebellum-style house on all four sides.

"I never tire of looking at the ocean," she said. "This is a beautiful view, but nothing to compare with the view from the veranda of my house on Le Bijou Bleu."

Mention of the island where Sam had washed ashore six years ago brought back painful memories to him. Memories he had tried to erase from his mind.

"We should go to your island," Sam said. "There, I might be able to keep you safe."

She shivered from the chill of the early-morning breeze as it tickled her bare arms and shoulders. "Maynard Reeves wants to kill me, and he doesn't seem to care how many people he has to destroy to do it."

Sam wrapped his arms around her. "Julian told me that only a handful of people even know about Le Bijou Bleu, that when your parents bought the island they used it as a retreat and kept its location a secret."

"Julian's right. Other than Julian and I, and of course Manton, only our lawyer and Marta even know about the island. I've used the place as my personal retreat all these years. When Miriam was dying, we visited Le Bijou Bleu several times. The trip always seemed to revitalize her."

"You'd take her to the island and suffer her pain for her, wouldn't you?" Sam hugged Jeannie fiercely. "You'd take her away so that Julian wouldn't have to see the two of you in pain."

"I loved Miriam like a mother." Jeannie sighed. "She was far more a mother to me than my own ever was."

"Are you willing to go to Le Bijou Bleu and stay as long as it takes to free yourself from Reeves?" Sam asked.

"What if he won't give up? What if he waits us out? You have a life of your own, Sam. I can't expect you to move to Le Bijou Bleu and live with me indefinitely."

"We're digging into Reeves's past. Somewhere there has to be some information that will help us put a stop to him. Otherwise…"

She gripped Sam's forearms where they crisscrossed her waist. "Otherwise what?"

"Otherwise we'll have to find another way to get rid of the man."

"I can't help but believe that God will punish him. He has committed so much evil in God's name. What greater sin could there be?"

"I'll make arrangements for us to leave Biloxi immediately. The sooner I can get you out of Reeves's grasp, the better."

"I can't leave yet," Jeannie said. "Not until…" She hesitated, turning her head and looking up at him. She wondered how he would react when she told him what she wanted.

"Not until what?"

"I want to stay a few more days, go to the hospitals and try to help the people who were injured in the bombing."

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Hear me out. Please."

Releasing Jeannie, Sam walked around her and over to the balcony's edge. With his back turned to her, he gripped the top of the banister. "You damn near killed yourself night before last, and you expect me to allow you to—"

"You do not allow me to do anything," Jeannie said. "Night before last, you were right. I had exhausted my energy. I wouldn't have been able to be of help to anyone. But I'm rested now. I need to help the people who are suffering because of me."

"You're being irrational, you know." He wished he could shake some sense into her compassionate little head. "You are not responsible for what happened to those people. Maynard Reeves is."

"And he bombed the riverboat because I was on board!"

"Dammit, Jeannie, what am I going to do with you?"

She walked over to the balcony's edge and laid her hand over his. "Night before last, you were going to bring me home and make love to me."

Every nerve in his body screamed. Neither of them spoke for endless moments. With her hand resting atop his, Sam and Jeannie watched the sun rise over Biloxi.

Jeannie had never wanted anything as much as she wanted Sam Dundee to be a part of her life forever, but she knew how impossible the dream was. Would any woman ever capture Sam Dundee's heart? Did a woman exist who was strong enough to be his equal?

Sam had never wanted anything as much as he wanted to protect Jeannie Alverson—from Reeves's insanity, from suffering the pain of others, and even from him. The desire he felt for this gentle, loving woman was so strong it could destroy her. He couldn't let that happen.

"It's all right, you know." She stroked his hand. "I want you, too."

"Jeannie?" His muscles tensed; his heartbeat accelerated.

"If there had been no explosions aboard the Royal Belle, you and I would have become lovers yesterday morning, when we got back here to the house," she said.

"You don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do. And so do you. I haven't forgotten what happened out on deck when we danced. I remember exactly how we both felt, what we both wanted."

"Don't remind me."

He turned around and looked at her. Dear God, what was he going to do about Jeannie Alverson? She was driving him insane. He couldn't remember ever wanting a woman so badly or ever being so scared. Once her life was no longer in danger, he would return to Atlanta. He'd be safe there, far away from Jeannie.

She wanted too much from him. She wanted things that weren't in him to give. She thought he was a far better man than he actually was. She thought he was worth saving, worth suffering for, worth the pain of delving into his tormented soul. He'd never been a coward, never backed down from any challenge, but Jeannie was something else all together. What man was equal to the challenge of being Jeannie's mate, of understanding her enough to allow her to be the woman she was—an empath with a blessed talent? What man was strong enough to spend the rest of his life watching her suffer other people's pain.

"Sam?"

"Two things have been driving me crazy while you slept. I was worried sick that you'd suffered too much pain, that you might have permanently harmed yourself. And all the while I was worrying, I hated myself for wanting you so desperately, for thinking what might have been if—"

"Once we're on Le Bijou Bleu, we'll have all our days and nights to make love."

Sam swallowed hard. "When you're no longer in danger, I'm going back to Atlanta."

Jeannie sighed. "Yes, I know. I understand."

"Okay, then. I see no reason to delay our departure. We'll sail for your island today."

"I'll go with you to Le Bijou Bleu day after tomorrow, when I've had a chance to put things in order around here and do what I feel is right and necessary."

Dammit, he knew what she was planning to do. "I won't allow you to put yourself in any more danger."

"Everything is going to be all right," she said, only half believing her own words. "Somehow we'll find a way to make it right."

She slipped her arms around him, kissing him with a strength and passion that startled him. Within seconds, Sam had taken charge of the kiss, the power of his feelings ripping him apart inside. He needed to make love to Jeannie, and soon, or he was going to lose his mind. He'd never known desire so strong, passion so all-consuming, need so powerful. And somehow he knew Jeannie felt the same way, that even though sexual desire was a new experience for her, the desperation of her need matched his own.

But he would have to wait until she was fully recovered from the ordeal following the bombing of the Royal Belle. When they made love for the first time, Jeannie would need all her strength. When they made love, she would experience sexual fulfillment—both his and hers.

Chapter 10

« ^ »

Tapping the china rim with her fingernails, Jeannie stared into the teacup she held with both hands. She lifted the cup to her lips, took a sip of the warm, sweet liquid, then held the cup in front of her. Was she forgetting anything? She would go over her checklist again before she and Sam left in the morning. He had wanted to go to Le Bijou Bleu today, but she had insisted on waiting for tomorrow. That would give her enough time to get things in order around the house and make sure that, between Ollie and Marta, Julian would be taken care of properly. He insisted he could take care of himself, but Julian was one of those men who had always had a woman to handle life's daily annoyances.

And Jeannie really had wanted to visit the hospitals to see those injured in the explosion aboard the Royal Belle. But upon further discussion, she and Sam had compromised. She wouldn't go to the hospitals if he agreed to stay in Biloxi one more day so that she could put things in order before their departure. After all, what difference could one day make?

"There's no point in your worrying about things over which you have little or no control." Laying the medical journal he'd been reading in his lap, Julian looked at Jeannie. "What happened aboard the Royal Belle was an atrocity, but it could have been much worse. If you hadn't sensed that monster Reeves's emotions, everyone aboard the riverboat might have died. You did all you could to prevent the disaster and to ease the suffering of those who were injured."

"Sam has told me the same thing, but I can't forget that if Reeves wasn't so determined to destroy me, he probably wouldn't have had bombs placed aboard the boat."

"You don't know that for sure. The man has been preaching against gambling ever since it was legalized and the casinos went into business along the Gulf."

"But he's never blown up one of the casinos before," Jeannie said. "He's never done anything violent, until now."

Sam Dundee entered the room, a sheaf of papers in his hand. "The man is totally irrational when it comes to you."

Jeannie's heart skipped a beat. Just the sound of his voice excited her, and one look into those steely gray eyes aroused her. She'd never known what it was like to want a man, to long for the feel of his hand in hers, the touch of his lips, the pleasure of his strong embrace.

"Reeves believes I'm a witch, possessed with powers from Satan." She set her teacup in its saucer on the mahogany table beside her chair. "I know he isn't going to leave me alone. He wants to destroy me." She shivered; the feel of Reeves's evil lingered inside her like a tiny sprinkling of ashes from a fire which had long since died.

"Reeves's obsession with destroying you is why it's imperative you leave Biloxi." Standing, Julian glanced down at the medical journal that had fallen from his lap. Grumbling under his breath, he reached down, picked up the magazine and laid it in the chair. "All the preparations have been made. I telephoned the Broadwater Marina. Your boat will be ready for your departure in the morning. And, you've contacted Manton to let him know when to expect you and Mr. Dundee."

Jeannie nodded agreement. "I've packed a few things to take with me, but I keep so many things at the house there, I won't need much." She glanced across the room at Sam, who was standing by the windows, seemingly absorbed in reading the stapled sheets of paper in his hand. "And I've sent Ollie out to buy Sam a bathing suit and some shorts and stuff. The man brought nothing but business suits. Can you imagine? He came to Biloxi without a bathing suit."

Sam grunted, glanced up from his reading and gave Jeannie one of his half smiles. Already she'd learned that that was the usual extent of his smile, an upward curve of his lips that didn't show any teeth.

"I came to Biloxi to work," he said. "Not to play."

"What are you so interested in?" Jeannie looked at the papers in his hand.

"J.T. faxed me more information on Reeves." Sam walked over to where Jeannie sat and handed her the report. "There's only one new piece of information that might interest the police. Reeves is a known religious fanatic whose followers have been jailed time and again, but Reeves himself has a spotless record. He seems to always be on the fringes of anything his church does that's illegal. It's obvious someone else always does his dirty work and takes all the risks."

Julian placed his bony hand on Sam's shoulder. "What piece of information is suspicious?"

"It seems that when Reeves was sixteen, both of his parents died in a house fire. The fire inspector said it was out-and-out arson, but they never found the arsonists, never prosecuted anyone."

"Where was Reeves when his parents' house burned?" Julian asked.

"He had spent the night with a friend, a boy named Wayland Krenshaw. Krenshaw is a deacon in Reeves's Righteous Light Church, and the two are fast friends to this day."

Jeannie read through the report quickly, then handed it back to Sam. "The police suspected young Maynard Reeves, but they had no proof, and he had an alibi."

"Why would the police suspect Reeves?" Julian glanced from Jeannie to Sam.

"Two weeks before the fire, a next-door neighbor had heard Reeves threaten his father, telling him that if he ever beat him again, he'd kill him," Sam said. "And the elder Reeves, a hellfire-and-brimstone preacher, told his son that the evil powers inside him would eventually destroy him. Then Reeves's father knocked him to the ground."

"My guess is that his father caught young Maynard using his psychic abilities," Jeannie said. "Obviously the man didn't realize that his son probably had little control over those abilities."

"And there are no other suspicious incidents in Reeves's past?" Julian pointed to the report in Sam's hand.

"There are countless suspicious incidents." Sam shook the sheaf of papers. "But that was the only time Reeves was directly linked to the happening. Our good reverend possibly has been behind numerous fires, bombings and even a couple of shootings, but there's no proof to link him to any of the incidents. And not once has one of his followers accused Reeves of any wrongdoing, even if it meant serving prison time themselves."

"Are you saying that this Righteous Light Church has members who are in prison because of—" Julian's dark eyes narrowed to mere slits. He slammed his hand down on the mahogany table beside Jeannie's chair, sending her empty teacup crashing to the floor.

Jeannie lifted herself, bracing herself with her cane. She grabbed Julian's arm. "You musn't get upset like this. It isn't good for your heart."

"Why can't the police do something to stop Reeves? It's obvious he's no man of God. If anyone is a child of the devil, he is!" Julian's swarthy olive complexion flushed with crimson. He knotted his hands into fists. "If I wasn't such an old man, I'd—"

"Calm yourself." Jeannie slipped her arm around her foster father's waist. "Sam is taking me away to Le Bijou Bleu in the morning. You, Ollie and Marta will be the only people who'll known where we are. Reeves doesn't know about my island, and the few people who know aren't about to tell him."

"I agree that the safest place for you is Le Bijou Bleu, but you can't hide out there for the rest of your life." Julian hugged Jeannie to his side. "If only the police could arrest the man. My God, he's threatened your life more than once."

"Technically, he hasn't," Jeannie said. "There is no law that prevents him from calling me names, and we have no proof that he sent me the Bible with the blood-spotted marker, or that he was responsible for the bombing of the Royal Belle."

Julian rubbed Jeannie's arm, then patted her tenderly on the shoulder. "If there's no other way to keep you safe, we'll leave Biloxi. We can go anywhere in the world. I'd do anything to protect you."

Jeannie hugged Julian. "I know you would, but I'm hoping that if I leave Biloxi for a few weeks, the media coverage on me will die down and perhaps Reeves will return to New Orleans and find some other poor soul to persecute."

When Sam grunted, Jeannie and Julian looked at him. Sam turned, picked up the report, folded it in half and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "In going to Le Bijou Bleu, we're taking Jeannie temporarily out of harm's way and buying us some time. If we can't legally nail Reeves's hide to the wall, then I'll have to find another way to handle him."

"What do you mean?" Jeannie asked, but really didn't want to know.

"There's no point in discussing alternatives until the present plan fails," Sam said.

"What present plan?" Julian asked.

"I've called in some favors." Sam tried not to look at Jeannie, who watched him closely. "I was a government agent for ten years. I know a lot of people. I have men on my payroll who are former CIA, former Green Berets and navy SEALS. My partner, J.T. Blackwood, left the Secret Service after he lost an eye and nearly died."

"What does who you know have to do with this plan to stop Maynard Reeves from … from killing me?" Jeannie willed Sam to face her, knowing he couldn't lie to her if he looked her in the eye.

Sensing her need for the complete truth, Sam made eye contact with Jeannie. "Since the bombing of the Royal Belle, the feds are involved. I've asked for and been promised one of their best men to head up the investigation. Dane Carmichael should be arriving today. He'll work directly with Lieutenant Painter. If there's any way to prove a connection between Reeves and the explosions aboard the Royal Belle, they'll find it. We just need to keep Jeannie out of harm's way until Reeves is behind bars. Painter and Carmichael are coming by to question us later this evening."

"Let's pray this plan works," Jeannie said. "I don't know if I could live with the alternative."

She tried to disguise her feelings, but they showed plainly on her face.

Knowing her so well, and caring for her so deeply, Julian could read her like a book. "We'll hope and pray Reeves will be found out and the police discover the proof they need to put him away." Gripping Jeannie by the shoulder, Julian stared at Sam. "But if it comes to—" Julian cleared his throat. "You'll do what must be done, what I'd do if I could. Her life is in your hands, my boy. I trust you to keep her safe."

"There's nothing I wouldn't do to protect her."

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep. If he hadn't been forced into a compromise with Jeannie, allowing her one extra day in Biloxi, he'd have taken her away today. Sam glanced at the bedside clock. Nearly midnight. They'd be out of the house before seven and on the gulf before eight.

Their talk with Lieutenant Painter and Dane Carmichael had lasted over an hour, with Jeannie reconstructing the events of three nights ago, aboard the Royal Belle, and explaining again and again why she knew Reeves had been behind the bombing.

Maybe, if they were lucky, Reeves had made a mistake, or perhaps someone in his organization would talk. Sam didn't know how long he'd have to keep Jeannie on Le Bijou Bleu, how long he'd have to act as her bodyguard, but he'd already asked J.T. to take control of Dundee Private Security. Sam hadn't had to tell J.T. that this case had become very personal. He'd just known. And J.T. was too astute to ask questions. Sam appreciated his friend and partner's keen perception. How the hell could he ever explain his feelings about Jeannie to someone else, when he didn't truly understand them himself?

Le Bijou Bleu. The Blue Jewel. Out there somewhere in the gulf. Sam drew back the curtains at the window and looked up at the star-filled sky. Tomorrow night they would be together on Jeannie's island retreat. Alone. Except for Manton. Sam had only the vaguest memory of the huge man. Dark skin. Bald head. How would Manton feel about Jeannie bringing Sam to the island? Would Manton instinctively know what was happening between Jeannie and Sam? Would he approve or disapprove?

Sam had no idea where Le Bijou Bleu was located. When he was tossed into the ocean six years ago, his body had washed ashore on Jeannie's uncharted island. Sam had checked and double-checked to make sure there was no way Reeves could discover the location of the island. Although Ollie and Marta knew about the island, as did the family lawyer, only Manton, Julian and Jeannie knew its exact location.

Years ago, the only means of communication had been a shortwave radio. With generators providing electricity to the house, Jeannie had provided Manton with a computer and fax-modem and had installed a telephone. One of the first things Jeannie had done after waking from her twenty-four hour rest, was to fax Manton, something she did almost every day.

"He'll be worried if more than a couple of days pass without hearing from me," she'd said.

So like Jeannie, caring about others, worrying about the people in her life, loving wholeheartedly, giving freely, taking on suffering that was not hers.

Sam didn't pretend to understand the depth of Jeannie's goodness, but the purity of her soul made him question his right to desire her. Of all the men in the world, why would she want him to be her first lover? She knew he could promise her nothing permanent, that he could offer her a physical relationship and nothing more. Why didn't she wait for some gentle, kind man whose soul would be in tune with hers? Why would she want a man who wasn't even sure he possessed a soul?

Sam heard the distant beeping sound and couldn't quite identify what it was or where it was coming from. When he went out into the hall, he heard it more distinctly, a repetitive alert coming from somewhere downstairs.

Jeannie cried out his name. The beeping continued. Sam listened carefully. A smoke detector!

"Sam!" she cried again.

"I'll check it out," he said, knowing she could hear the alarm, too. "It could be nothing. I'll be right back."

He flew down the stairs, followed the warning signal into the smoky corridor leading to the kitchen and flung open the door. Growling at the sight before him, he swore loudly. Flames engulfed the kitchen, the curtains burning in seconds as he watched. Smoke filled the room.

Ollie touched Sam on the shoulder. He jerked around to face her. "Get out of the house. Fast. I'll send Julian and bring Jeannie down."

"Can't I help?" Ollie asked.

"Don't argue. No time. Get out!"

Sam slammed shut the door, raced back upstairs, calling Jeannie's name. Julian, wearing pajamas and a silk robe came out into the hall. "What's wrong? Is that the smoke detector?"

Ignoring Julian, Sam rushed into his bedroom, retrieved his cellular phone from his jacket, went back into the hall and tossed the phone to Julian.

"Go downstairs and out the front door quickly. I've sent Ollie out. Dial 911. Get the fire department here before this old house burns to the ground."

"Jeannie?" Julian hesitated, but then he saw the look in Sam Dundee's eyes and, clutching the phone in his trembling hand, hurried downstairs.

Jeannie sat upright in bed, the lamp on the nightstand illuminating her frightened face. "The smoke alarm went off downstairs. Is there a fire?"

Sam lifted her into his anus. "The whole kitchen's on fire." She had known somehow that the alarm hadn't gone off by accident, that it signaled a true danger. The moment she heard it, she'd called out to Sam, telepathically at first, but he hadn't responded.

She saw the panic in his eyes and realized how afraid he was for her. She held out her arms, waiting for him to rescue her. Nothing could ever truly harm her as long as she had Sam.

Although his mind functioned and he'd thought out every move in a reasonable fashion, one overriding emotion dictated Sam's actions—his concern for Jeannie. He had to get her to safety!

Jeannie clung to him as he rushed out of her room, dashing down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Billows of black smoke met them in the foyer. Fire licked at the walls. Jeannie closed her eyes against the destruction, coughing when the smoke filled her nostrils and crept into her throat. Ahead of them, the front door stood wide open. Sam didn't hesitate; he ran outside, down the steps and into the front yard, where Julian and Ollie stood huddled together.

"The fire department is on the way." Julian touched Jeannie's face and smiled. "Maybe they'll make it here in time to save the old place."

Jeannie knew how much Julian loved the house his grandfather had built, the home where he'd grown up, the house where he'd brought Miriam as a bride. To lose this magnificent old mansion would be like losing a part of himself.

"Could the fire have been an accident?" Jeannie asked Sam, her voice a whisper against his ear. "Or do you think Maynard Reeves—?" She swallowed, her emotions momentarily choking her.

"My gut instincts are shouting Reeves's name," Sam said. "We won't know for sure whether or not this was an accident until the fire inspector hands in his report."

Jeannie felt Sam's frustration, his fear for her and his savage anger at Reeves. She could hear his heartbeat, loud and strong and wild. Wild from the race away from what would have been certain death had he not carried her to safety. Wild with the desire to protect at all costs. Wild with the need to take revenge against anyone who would dare harm her.

"We're safe," she told him, and tried to draw the anger from him.

"Don't!" Tightening his hold on her, he lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her forehead. "I don't need calming or soothing. I don't want you to take away the hatred I feel. Save your strength. You'll need it later."

* * *

Sam was right. She did need her strength later. After the firemen doused the blaze and saved Julian's home from total destruction. After they stayed the night at Marta's, no one sleeping, all of them waiting to hear from the fire marshal. After they found out the house had been deliberately set afire. And after the police said they could do nothing more than question Maynard Reeves.

"He's sure to have an alibi," Lieutenant Painter had said.

Sam hadn't wanted to change their plans to leave at seven o'clock for Le Bijou Bleu, but she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't leaving the mainland until they knew more details about the fire and she saw Julian and Ollie settled.

She hadn't expected the fire marshal to detect the cause of the fire so quickly. The arsonist had done nothing to conceal his handiwork. And she certainly hadn't expected Marta to find Julian a temporary home that same morning.

Sam pulled Jeannie's Lexus up in the driveway behind Marta's Mercedes. The house, a small Victorian cottage between Long Beach and Gulfport, belonged to Marta's recently divorced son, who'd asked his mother to see about renting the place until he decided whether or not things would work out with his new job in Mobile.

Unlocking the front door, Marta stepped back and waited for everyone to enter. "All their furniture is still here. Joel hasn't touched a thing since Patsy Ruth left him."

The house wasn't half the size of Julian's home in Biloxi, but it was charming and homey and certainly large enough to accommodate Julian and Ollie for a few months until the restoration of their fire-damaged house was completed.

"I think the place is lovely," Jeannie said. "We're fortunate you hadn't already found a renter."

"The place is Julian's as long as he needs it." Marta turned to Jeannie. "We'll get everything set up today. A new computer and fax machine for Julian. Luckily, we hadn't had the power turned off or the telephone disconnected. Joel left for his new job in Mobile only last week."

"Yes, dear, you must contact me as soon as you arrive at Le Bijou Bleu and let me know all is well." Julian kissed Jeannie on the cheek, then offered his hand to Sam. "Take care of her. Her value cannot be assessed."

"I know that she's priceless." Sam shook Julian's hand, and the two men exchanged stares, one man pleading, the other promising.

"Get her beyond Maynard Reeves's grasp." Ollie placed her hand on her hip. "If I ever see that scripture-quoting weasel again, I'll boil him in oil."

"You musn't delay any longer." Holding Jeannie's hand, Julian lifted it and placed it over his heart. "There's no telling what the man is capable of doing."

"But what about you, Julian?" Jeannie couldn't bear the thought of her foster father being in danger because of her. "What if Reeves tries to harm you?"

"I'm not his target, my dear, you are."

"But he's crazy, isn't he? That means he's unpredictable." Jeannie sighed. "Why don't you come to Le Bijou Bleu with us?"

"I'm not in any danger." Julian glanced at Sam, then shifted his attention back to Jeannie. "I'm needed here. I still consult at the hospital, you know, as well as being on the board. And since you can't continue your work at the Howell School, I'll keep an eye on Marta and the teachers for you." Looking over Jeannie's shoulder, he smiled at Marta, who nodded her head in amused agreement. "Besides, I'll have to be around to oversee the work on our home. I want everything rebuilt as close to the original as possible."

"We'll stay in daily contact," Jeannie said. "If you need me—"

"Take her away, now," Julian told Sam. "Before we're both in tears."

"I don't anticipate any problems for you," Sam said. "But if there is, let me know. I'll get Hawk or Kane back down here as quickly as possible."

Sam forcibly turned Jeannie, draped his arm around her shoulders and walked her outside to the car. When they reached the Lexus, she looked back, saw Julian in the doorway and waved goodbye.

Sam drove down highway 90, straight to the Broadwater Marina, where Jeannie's small cruiser awaited them. He had been anxious to get Jeannie out of Biloxi and away from Reeves before last night, but now, after the fire, he knew the only way to completely protect her was to keep her on Le Bijou Bleu until Reeves no longer posed a threat. And that meant until the authorities arrested him—or until Sam was forced to settle the matter himself.

Chapter 11

« ^ »

They arrived at Le Bijou Bleu late in the afternoon, just as the August sun began its descent into the western sky. A warm, humid wind surrounded them as they disembarked. Two smaller craft were anchored snugly a few feet away from the cruiser. All three rested in their slips. An enormous brown-skinned man, his bald head glistening in the sunshine, stood on the pier.

Sam swept Jeannie up into his arms, lifting her off the boat, then turning to face Manton. Remembering only bits and pieces of his hours on this island six years ago, Sam wasn't sure what to expect from the man who had helped Jeannie save his life. What he saw was a seven-foot giant, his huge, muscular arms crossed over his wide chest and his green eyes focused on Jeannie.

When Sam took a step forward, she tugged on his sleeve. "Put me down and give me my cane. I want you to meet Manton again, and then, after we've settled in and I've let Julian know we arrived safely, I want to show you my island."

Sam obeyed her request, wondering all the while if Manton would have tried to break him in half if he dared disagree with her.

Jeannie walked steadily toward Manton, who didn't move a muscle until she stood directly in front of him. A wide smile spread across his face, softening his hard features and putting a sparkle in his eyes. Opening her arms, Jeannie squealed with laughter when the gentle giant lifted her off her feet and into a bear hug.

Standing to the side, Sam watched the loving exchange and saw an affection between Jeannie and Manton similar to that between her and Julian Howell. Though several years younger than the doctor, Manton was twice Jeannie's age and seemed to consider himself another substitute father.

When Manton set her back on her feet, Jeannie clutched her cane and turned her head. Smiling at Sam, she motioned him forward. "Sam, come meet the man who saved your life six years ago."

The two men sized each other up, taking a full inventory. Sam extended his hand; Manton saw Jeannie's happy smile and accepted Sam's handshake. Despite his size and obvious strength, Manton did not grip Sam's hand with any undue force. His handshake was firm, quick and nonaggressive.

Looking directly at Manton, Sam said, "I owe Jeannie and you my life. Thank you."

Manton nodded toward Jeannie, moving his hands rapidly, signing to her, then looked back at Sam.

"He's too modest to accept any thanks. He claims that all he did was help me get you to the hospital."

"That saved my life," Sam told him.

Manton grinned, signed again and waited for Jeannie to translate.

"He says that all the thanks he needs is for you to keep me safe."

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect her," Sam said.

Instinctively Sam knew that Manton understood his meaning without further words and knew, too, that this second substitute father was concerned about his and Jeannie's relationship.

He noticed that Jeannie and Manton seemed to be conversing, though Jeannie didn't speak and Manton didn't sign. They're talking telepathically, Sam thought, and wondered what they were saying.

Manton nodded, walked away and boarded the cruiser. Jeannie turned to Sam.

"He's getting our luggage." She held out her hand, motioning Sam to her. "Manton usually carries me from the dock to the house. It's an uphill climb from here. See the steps over there?"

Sam took note of the curving set of rock steps that led up from the beach to the hill above. From where he stood, he couldn't see the house.

"What were you saying to him a few minutes ago?" Sam asked. "I know you were communicating with him."

"I told him to go ahead and get the luggage, that you would carry me up to the house."

An undeniable pleasure spread from the pit of Sam's stomach to his whole body. The sensation was ridiculous, he told himself, but he could not argue against the truth. Jeannie looked to him for care and protection. Not to Julian Howell, and not to Manton. Not any longer. The girl had become a woman, gently but firmly choosing Sam, instead of either surrogate father, to be her protector.

Sam lifted Jeannie into his arms, as he had done so many times recently, but this time the ritual was fraught with deep meaning. And they both knew it. Carrying her to the house was a symbolic giving of herself, a placing of herself into Sam's hands—not only to keep safe, but to possess, to pleasure, to love.

Sam had no idea the walk from the dock to the house would take so long. No wonder Manton had always carried Jeannie. Once at the top of the rock steps, Sam drew in his breath, an appreciative sigh escaping his lips. Green grass spread out as far as the eye could see. Live oaks climbed toward heaven, while some of the limbs curled downward and grew back into the earth. Spanish moss hung heavily on the trees, dripping almost to the ground here and there. Palm trees swayed in the summer wind. In the distance, blue sky and water met.

Sam couldn't remember anything about Le Bijou Bleu except the beach. He had no memory of the docks.

"Six years ago, I didn't wash up near the pier, did I?" he asked.

"No, I found your body on the other side of the island. Manton carried you to the boat."

"When they tossed me overboard, I didn't think I had a prayer." Sam caressed the top of her head with his chin, then turned his head sideways and rested his cheek against her hair.

"You have to put the past behind you," Jeannie said. "It can't be changed."

Halting his steps momentarily, Sam closed his eyes. With the hot sun and warm wind on his face, he allowed Jeannie entrance into his thoughts. The moment they connected, his eyes flew open and he gripped her fiercely. It would be so easy to let her take away the painful memories, at least for a while. He wanted to forget, but how could he allow her to experience the guilt for him?

"No," he said, mentally and emotionally withdrawing from her. "Don't. I can handle it."

"All right. If that's what you want. But sooner or later, you're going to have to deal with the pain you've buried deep inside you." She touched his cheek. He flinched. "If you share it with me, I can help you put the past to rest."

The sound of Manton climbing the rock steps reminded Sam that he and Jeannie were not completely alone. "Where's the house?" Sam asked.

"Look straight ahead. You can see the roof through that grove of trees."

With Manton at his side, Sam carried Jeannie across the wide, seemingly endless stretch of verdant ground leading to the house. The two-story raised French cottage had been built on the top of a rise, giving the occupants a view of the ocean from all sides.

A menagerie of animals greeted their arrival. A half-dozen cats of various sizes, colors and ages were curled around the banisters, their curious eyes staring at Sam. Four panting mixed-breed dogs, tails wagging playfully, rounded the side of the house.

Jeannie spoke to the animals, calling each by name. They purred and woofed in unison, welcoming their mistress.

Manton hurried ahead of them, rushing up the steps and onto the huge veranda to open the front doors. The rooms were large and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows and double French doors leading to the veranda. The windows had been opened, and the warm breeze fluttered the lace curtains as it filled the rooms.

Jeannie reminded Sam to set her on her feet when they entered the front parlor, a spacious room with clean white walls, Victorian sofa and chairs upholstered in cream damask, and a baby grand piano in the corner.

He slid her slowly down the length of his body, allowing the intimate contact to linger. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gazed up at him dreamily. He wanted to kiss her. She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss.

Manton paused in the doorway long enough to make eye contact with Sam, then proceeded to carry the luggage down the hall to the bedrooms. Jeannie cleared her throat. Sam grinned.

"Is he going to be watching us the whole time we're here?" Sam asked.

Opening her eyes, Jeannie frowned. "Manton will be here all the time, but he won't be watching us. We'll feel his presence, because he is a part of this island. As much a part of it as the earth and the trees, the flowers, the birds, the animals."

"I think I'll have a difficult time considering him just part of the scenery." Sam kissed the tip of her nose, and chuckled when she wrinkled her nose and frowned at him. "Where does Manton sleep?"

A tentative smile began spreading across her face. "He has rooms downstairs on the lower level." Her smile widened. "Our rooms are on the main level, just down the hall."

Lowering his head, his breath mingling with hers, he brushed a light kiss over her lips. "Are we going to need separate rooms?"

She drew in a quick breath, then released it on a deep sigh. "No." That one word said it all. The acceptance of the inevitable. The promise of ecstasy. The knowledge that no power on earth could keep them apart.

But as surely as Jeannie knew that Sam Dundee was destined to become her lover, she knew that he would never be free to love her as long as his past possessed his soul. Every time she touched him, she sensed his unease and uncertainty. He wanted her with a fierce and desperate hunger, but he was afraid of her, of her special talents—and he felt unworthy.

How could she ever make him understand that she was as afraid as he was? The power of Sam's primitive nature, his savage strength, his iron will, all just barely concealed beneath his sophisticated surface, made her doubt she could ever possess him, truly possess him, heart and soul.

Not only did the vast differences in their basic natures stand between them, but so did Sam's guilt-ridden conscience and Jeannie's endangered existence. No matter how they might long to be together, Jeannie knew she had no choice but to accept the likelihood that she and Sam had no future together.

Jeannie shuddered at the realization.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he felt her tremble.

"We're safe for now, aren't we? Here on my island, no one can harm us. We can be happy for a while."

His kiss combined the elements of passion and protectiveness and sent ripples of excitement through her, while at the same time, it soothed her concerns. Pulling away from Jeannie, Sam looked into her eyes. Warm, compassionate brown eyes that had haunted his dreams six long years.

"Yes, we're safe," Sam said. "You're safe here on your island, and I'm going to make sure nothing goes wrong. The authorities back on the mainland will monitor Reeves. They'll know where he is at all times. Besides, he has no idea where we are."

"Then we can truly relax here on Le Bijou Bleu, and spend our days and nights—"

"Making love."

His next kiss sent shivers of desire rocketing through Jeannie's body, hardening her nipples, flushing her face, moistening her femininity.

Sam sensed her arousal and knew she had tapped into his, increasing her own passion. She gripped his shoulder with one hand. While standing on tiptoe, she dropped her cane onto the hardwood floor and caressed his neck with her fingertips. He lifted her off her feet, cupping her hips as she threaded her fingers through his hair and sighed deep in her throat as he deepened the kiss.

Manton knocked softly on the doorpost, announcing his presence. Slowly, reluctantly, Sam eased Jeannie back down on her feet, ending the kiss gradually. Holding on to his forearms, she stepped back, separating their bodies. Clasping Jeannie about the waist with one hand, Sam bent over and picked up her cane.

Manton glanced at Sam, giving him a brief but thorough inspection, then looked at Jeannie. Smiling, she nodded, then laughed aloud. Sam had no idea what they were saying to each other.

Jeannie wondered how long it would take Sam to realize that Manton approved of him, that he was actually encouraging Jeannie to explore her feelings for Sam.

I think a romantic dinner on the veranda would be appropriate, Jeannie told Manton telepathically.

Leave everything to me, Manton responded in the same non-verbal manner, his green eyes sparkling with delight. He has returned to you, as I knew he would. Now, little one, you must claim him. Once you do, he will be yours forever.

The danger hasn't ended for me, or for Sam, Jeannie said. I don't know how much time we'll have here on the island together, but however long we have, I want to make that time special.

I understand. Manton nodded.

Sam shook Jeannie's arm gently. "What's going on here?"

Turning her radiant smile on Sam, Jeannie hugged up to his side. "We were just planning dinner for tonight." She tugged on his hand. "Come on, let's change clothes before I give you a tour of the house and then the island."

"Change clothes?"

She looked him over from head to toe. "You don't plan on wearing a suit while we're here, do you? After all, Ollie went to a lot of trouble this morning, washing your new casual clothes before she repacked them."

"What should I wear?" He followed her out of the parlor, nodding cordially to Manton as he passed him in the doorway.

"Put on some shorts and a T-shirt. And sandals."

Jeannie led him down the hallway, stopping in front of an open door. "This is my room." She pointed to the next room down, directly beside hers. "And that's your room. To come to my room, all you have to do is walk out on the veranda. Every room in the house has access to the veranda."

He jerked her into his arms. Gasping, she gripped her cane, but did not resist him. "Why don't you come to my room with me?" he asked, with a playful leer.

"Go change clothes, and I'll meet you in your room." Pulling away from him, she gave him a shove in the right direction.

Turning around, not waiting to see if he obeyed her request, Jeannie slipped into her room and closed the door behind her. Sam waited for a couple of minutes, then walked to his room. Inside, he found a sunny space of beige-and-yellow warmth. The Center point of the room was an old walnut tester bed without a canopy. Black-and-white ticking material had been fashioned into a coverlet and into pillows that mixed with beige-and-yellow down pillows. Sam's clothes bag lay across the foot of the bed; his carryall rested on the seat of a large overstuffed chair.

Shorts, T-shirt and sandals. Jeannie wanted their time together to be a vacation, not an escape from danger. He intended to give her what she wanted. An interlude from the real world.

In the next room, Jeannie sat down on her bed, a huge white oak four-poster with a fancy black ironwork canopy. Hooking her cane over the bottom post, she lay down and breathed in the fresh salt air blowing in off the ocean. She looked around her room, loving every precious inch that she had decorated as a teenager. The heart of pine floors and planked ceilings gave this old house a country charm. While examining the room, she saw, lying on the floral chintz chaise longue, the clothes Manton had laid out for her. Her pale pink-and-lavender-striped sundress. Strapless, with a hem that fell to midcalf. A romantic dress. Beside the dress lay a wide-brimmed straw hat.

Hugging herself, Jeannie laughed.

* * *

Manton served their dinner on the veranda. White linen tablecloth and napkins. Polished silver and glistening crystal. After placing their dessert of fruit with a light cream sauce before them, he lit the candles that flanked the small bouquet on the table, then excused himself. The sun hung like a ball of fire in the western horizon, its heat singeing the sky with radiant splashes of purple, magenta and golden orange.

The balmy ocean breeze surrounded Sam and Jeannie, gently flickering the candle flames. They lifted their wineglasses in a toast.

"To heaven here on earth," Sam said. "Thanks to you, my very own angel."

Her eyes glazed with tears. Happy tears. Accepting his toast, she sipped the wine.

"What do you think of Le Bijou Bleu?" She set her glass on the table.

"I see where it got its name. Blue sky and blue water everywhere. I suppose whoever christened this island considered it his own personal blue jewel."

"And now it's my blue jewel," she said. "Our blue jewel," she amended.

"I never thought I'd return to this island. The few memories I have of this place are bittersweet. I wanted to forget what happened before and after I was shot."

"I realized how difficult it was for you to come and see me six years ago, when you got out of the hospital." She looked down at the fresh tropical fruit resting in the crystal bowl. "You came only because you felt you owed your life to me."

"I did owe you my life," he said, watching her pick nervously at the linen tablecloth. "When I left Biloxi, I buried the past deep inside me." He tapped his chest with his fist.

"You didn't want to live." Jeannie lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze directly. "You felt you had no right to live."

"I don't want to talk about the past. Not now."

Casting her gaze downward, she hesitated. He was afraid of the complete truth. If he was ever going to heal, he would have to face a guilt too heavy for him to bear alone.

The sweet, melodic strands of a piano solo drifted in the air, like celestial background music. Sam cocked his head to one side, listening. He could have sworn the music wasn't taped, that someone was playing the baby grand in the front parlor. He glanced at Jeannie, his eyes questioning her.

"Manton plays beautifully, don't you think?"

"Manton? But how is it possible for him to play? He's deaf, isn't he?"

"Totally, irreversibly deaf. But he has the talent of a genius."

"I don't understand how—"

"He feels the music." Reaching across the table, Jeannie clasped Sam's hand in hers. "He's played since childhood. A natural talent, one even he doesn't understand. The piece he's playing is his own creation. I believe his talent is truly a gift from God."

"He can't hear what he plays. He can't—"

"It defies explanation. Yes, I know. But so does my empathic ability." She looked into Sam's eyes and told him what she wanted. "There is magic on Le Bijou Bleu. It drew Manton here first, and then me. And now…" She did not allow herself to even think about what she knew in her heart, what Sam was not yet ready to accept.

He sensed her need to be in his arms, to move to Manton's mystical music—a twilight solo so utterly beautiful that Sam knew, without question, that the composition had been created for Jeannie.

Julian Howell's Jeannie. Manton's Jeannie. But, above all else, Sam Dundee's Jeannie. For she belonged to him now, and in ways she could never belong to another. This night would seal her fate. She would become his completely.

But not forever. Their affair here on Le Bijou Bleu would be days and nights out of time. He had no right to want or expect more. Jeannie was an ethereal creature, truly pure of heart, never meant to belong to a man whose hands were stained with blood. But he could not deny himself the chance to become her lover, to capture, if for only a brief while, the magic and wonder of possessing an angel.

Sam stood, rounded the table, pulled out Jeannie's chair and lifted her. Shivering with desire and anticipation, she kicked off her white sandals and allowed Sam to lift the soles of her small, delicate feet atop his big feet.

She wanted to dance the way they had the night on the riverboat. But here on the veranda of her home there would be no interruptions, nothing to intrude on the enchantment. They would be free to follow their hearts, to seek the fulfillment their bodies desired. Tonight was theirs.

Sam waltzed her around the veranda. Her skirt flowed in the breeze. They didn't speak aloud, but they communicated their feelings, exchanged their thoughts and shared their mutual desire.

Sam had opened his mind to her, no longer blocking her entrance into his privacy. Jeannie wondered if he had any idea that he had taken the first step in the healing process that could lead to his salvation. Only if he could trust her enough to share his guilt and pain could she help him face his demons and learn to forgive himself.

Did she have the strength and courage to be the woman Sam needed? Could she ever reach that golden core of goodness inside Sam and help him become the man he was meant to be?

The music swirled inside Jeannie's head as she gave herself over to the rhythm and surrendered completely to Sam, trusting him without hesitation. In his arms she took flight, experiencing once again the freedom she would never know without his support.

When Manton stopped playing and quiet descended, Sam led Jeannie back to the table. She retrieved her cane before they left the veranda for a moonlight stroll on the beach behind the cottage.

The new moon glimmered in the black sky, almost translucent in its pale beauty. A scattering of distant stars winked at them. The ocean waves spread their moon-kissed white foam across the beach, then, recalling the tide, washed away their tracks in the sand. Sam supported Jeannie with his arm around her waist as they stood on the beach, the water licking at their legs.

When Jeannie tired, her slow gait hampered by the sand, Sam lifted her in his arms and carried her to the top of the knoll that overlooked the beach where she'd found his nearly lifeless body six years ago. Placing her on the ground, he sat beside her and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder.

Words were unnecessary. Each knew what the other thought and felt. Sam could not deny how he felt about Jeannie, how desperately he wanted her, how much a part of him she had become.

They sat on the knoll, their damp legs entwined, holding hands and listening to the ocean's gentle rumble as they looked at the night sky.

Then Sam turned to her, cupped her face with both hands and whispered her name aloud. She sighed. A lone teardrop fell from her eye onto his hand.

"It's all right, angel," he said. "This will be a totally new experience for both of us. I have no idea what will happen. The first time for most women is—"

She covered his lips with her index finger. "I'm not like most women. And you, Sam Dundee, are most definitely not like most men."

"I don't want to hurt you." He kissed her tenderly.

"The pain of wanting you without having you is far worse than any pain I'll feel. It will be a pain I'll soon forget in the pleasure that will follow." Curling her arms around his neck, she returned his kiss as their combined emotions began flowing inside her. "Sam?"

He rubbed his hand up and down the side of her thigh, bunching the cotton material of her full skirt, lifting it higher and higher with each upward motion. They fell back onto the ground. Lowering his head, Sam kissed the tops of her swollen breasts rounding above the strapless bodice of her sundress. He palmed her feminine mound through the silk of her panties. She arched up to meet his touch.

Sam leaned over her, his mouth and hands exploring the woman who lay beneath him. Jeannie. Sweet, beautiful, innocent Jeannie.

She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her again. Clinging to him, whimpering her need, stroking her body against his, she incited him to deepen the kiss. He ripped away the material covering her breasts, then slid his hand inside her panties and delved into her moist, welcoming heat.

Overwhelming desire claimed her. Desire so all-consuming she thought she would die from its intensity. Her desire. And Sam's desire.

Releasing her mouth, he breathed deeply. "Not here. Not on the hard ground, exposed like this. Not our first time."

"Then take me home, Sam. Take me home and make me yours."

With his heartbeat wild, his desire at fever pitch, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the house. He opened the French doors leading from the veranda into her bedroom, walked into the moonlit sanctuary and laid her down on the pure white bed.

Chapter 12

« ^ »

Moonlight suffused the room, coating the walls with pale luminance, casting a yellow-white glow over the floor and furniture, surrounding Jeannie like a body halo of purity. The summer breeze swept inside through the open windows and French doors, encompassing them in a warm cocoon. The ocean's undulatory melody drifted in on the night air.

Jeannie sat up in the middle of the bed and removed her sundress. Wearing only a pair of pink silk panties, her breasts thrusting forward as she braced the palms of her hands on each side of her hips, she smiled and called his name.

"Sam…"

She was a siren now, an enticing vixen with a woman's needs. And yet she was still an angel, so pure and innocent and compassionate.

Jeannie lay back on the bed, her heartbeat drumming in her ears, as she reached up, inviting Sam into her arms. She burned with a need she had never known before Sam Dundee entered her secure world. He had changed everything. After she saved his life, nothing had ever been the same again. And now that he had returned, possessed with a need to protect her, to care for her, their fate was sealed.

Since the night she had suffered agony for him, they had been partially united, their souls connected by a thin, invisible cord. With each passing day they were together, they became closer, their feelings for each other growing stronger. Tonight they would become one. There could be no going back, only forward, straight ahead into the bonding of their souls.

Sam could remember nothing in his life he'd ever wanted more than he wanted Jeannie. His Jeannie. His sweet, beautiful angel.

With arms uplifted, her face kissed with moonlight, she waited for him. He wanted to rip off his clothes and thrust into her with wild abandon. But Jeannie was no ordinary woman. What was happening between them was special, unique. Something to be experienced fully, savored lovingly. He could not rush their lovemaking. For her, this would be the first time. And it would be a first for him, too. Making love to a woman who could feel his every emotion, who could experience his desire and his pleasure. The very thought of what lay ahead scared him as much as it excited him.

Sam unbuttoned his short-sleeved cotton shirt, slid it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor at the foot of Jeannie's bed. The way she looked at him—her eyes caressing him, her lips tasting him, her hands tormenting him without once touching him—stirred his blood and hardened his body.

Thick, cascading strands of her silky brown hair covered one bare breast, leaving the other an uncovered temptation. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. Her lips parted on an indrawn sigh.

He sensed her longing, her need a viable force, strong enough to sweep them both over the edge of conscious action. He had to remain in control for just a while longer, until he was certain he wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't destroy her with the power of his desire.

Unzipping his navy blue shorts, Sam didn't take his eyes off Jeannie. He trembled, wanting her, needing her. Lured by her femininity, lost to her seductive charms, he surrendered to the desire he could no longer control.

Sliding his shorts down to his ankles, he kicked them aside. He stood before her, all power and masculine muscle, in a pair of navy blue briefs, his sex straining against the silk fabric. Perspiration moistened his hands and forehead; dots of sweat broke out across his upper lip. A white-hot need seared him to the bone.

Jeannie wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every inch of his body, caress every bulging muscle, kiss his tiny, pebble-hard nipples, thread her fingers through the thatch of thick brown hair on his chest. If only he would come to her, allow her to touch him.

Her magnificently beautiful, elegant savage.

Sam eased down on the bed, placing his knees on either side of her feet. Crawling slowly up her body, bracing himself with his hands so that the contact was whisper light, he covered her body with his. She touched him hesitantly at first, sweeping her hands across his shoulders. He shuddered; she trembled.

And then exactly what she had been waiting for happened. The connection. The blending. Gradually, with just faint glimmers of awareness, Jeannie felt Sam's hunger and knew that it more than equaled hers. He was a virile man, experienced in the ways of the world, and yet he was uncertain. He was afraid his desire would be too much for her to handle, that it would be too powerful for her fragile innocence.

He needed her reassurance. She had to do more than issue an invitation; she would have to be the persuader, seducing him beyond the point of no return.

Arching her body, lifting herself closer to Sam, she kissed his chest, then drew a damp circle around first one and then his other nipple. He sucked in a deep, excruciating breath.

She felt the first crack in his iron control. She kissed his shoulder. He eased his body lower, his chest brushing her breasts. She gasped when her breasts tightened, almost painfully, and sent a signal straight to her core.

Slipping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his shoulder. Her tongue drew spiraling circles from his shoulder, up his neck and to his ear. She squirmed beneath him, well aware of what her movements were doing to him. He was holding back, trying to be patient. And it was killing him!

Didn't he know, she wondered, that she felt every painful throb of his sex, every pulsating ache? Had he no idea that the longer he postponed their lovemaking, the more painfully aroused she would become?

She kissed his cheek. The pulse in his neck twitched. She covered his mouth, licking like a kitten lapping cream until he opened to her insistent little tongue, taking her inside as he followed her lead. Intensifying the kiss, Sam devoured her as he gripped her hips, lifting her up and against his arousal. She cried out, the sound trapped in his mouth, as shudders of intense pleasure skyrocketed through her.

Continuing the kiss, he divested her of her pink panties and eased his hand between her legs, parting her thighs. With an equal amount of urgency, she tugged on his briefs, pulling them down and over his firm, rounded buttocks, pausing to stroke him lovingly. Using her foot, she slid his briefs to his ankles and off onto the floor.

With each touch, each kiss, each urgent moan, the link between them grew stronger, until Sam, too, faintly sensed Jeannie's feelings. Knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her only added fuel to the blazing flame of his passion.

He touched her nipple, already beaded and throbbing. She swallowed a moan. He placed his mouth on her, suckling her breast. She wrapped herself around him, her soft little cries a plea for release.

"Please, don't wait any longer," she whispered as he suckled her other breast. "Oh, Sam, put an end to our pain."

Too soon! Too soon! his mind told him. Now! his body urged. She feels what you feel, his heart told him.

"I need to protect you," he said.

"I need no protection from you, Sam."

And then he sensed her probing, seeking entrance inside his mind. He allowed her to come in, and when their minds joined, each realized the searing-hot fire and uncontrollable force of their combined madness. Knowing he would hurt her, if only briefly, Sam tried to be gentle, lifting her hips, entering her by slow degrees.

He was so big; she was so small.

He was a savage brute; she was a gentle angel.

No! she cried out silently. I'm as savage as you are and you are as gentle as I am. Take me, Sam. Please take me now!

Sam responded by thrusting to the hilt, giving her all of himself. She groaned, accepting the quick, hot pain. He stopped, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping from his body onto hers.

Heaven help him, but he'd felt her pain. How was that possible? It wasn't.

The pain subsided. She knew he'd felt it, too, but had dismissed it as impossible.

Jeannie moved, lifting up, wrapping her legs around Sam's hips, urging him to resume. Pleasure rippled through him as the pressure built. Pulling partly out of her, he hesitated only a second before plunging deeply again and starting the primeval mating dance.

His iron control cracked in a dozen places, weakening his defenses, making him more vulnerable, open to her possession. The agony intensified, the pressure inside them close to exploding. Jeannie clung to him, whispering his name in gasping little chants. Sam moaned dark, desperate, erotic words to her.

Release hit them simultaneously, or so Jeannie thought, but she soon realized that the fulfillment she felt was Sam's. Wild, hot, savage. He emptied his seed into her, shudders of pleasure jerking his big body. The sensations rocketed through her, and she cried out, trembling with the aftershocks.

Agony turned to ecstasy. But before she fell from the heights of rapture, she gripped his hips, lifting herself up against him, stroking her body against his frantically. Strong, forceful spasms clutched her sex, then threw her headlong into the heaven of carnal fulfillment. She clung to him as wave after wave of joyous release washed over her.

Sam held her, aware of her completion, and fully aware that in some way, though faint and subdued, he shared her release.

Easing off her and onto his side, he drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. They lay there in the aftermath of a loving so profound neither of them could find the words to express how they felt. When their ragged breathing settled to normal, Sam got out of bed, lifted Jeannie in his arms and smothered her with passionate kisses. She clung to him, knowing that she was now Sam Dundee's woman in every sense of the word. She had never felt closer to anyone in her life.

Sam carried her across the bedroom, kicked open the bathroom door and stepped into the shower. When he turned the faucets, a spray of cold water hit their naked bodies. Jeannie squealed. Sam held her with one hand while adjusting the water temperature. The shower poured over them with refreshing warmth. He picked up a bar of white soap, smelled its sweet perfume, then grinned.

"If I use this stuff, I'll smell like you," he said.

"You already do."

He laughed. She loved the sound of his laughter. So hearty. So genuine. She had to make sure he laughed more.

"And you smell like me." Lowering his head, he licked her breasts, from one nipple to the other. "And you taste like me."

He lathered her body slowly, taking special care to be gentle as he cleaned away the residue of her innocence. He braced her against the ceramic wall, washing her thoroughly.

Lowering himself to his knees, he held her hip with one hand while he spread her legs farther apart. She gripped his shoulders. Her body clenched, released, then repeated the process. While the warm water cascaded down Jeannie's body and onto Sam's back, he sought her feminine core and began a sensual assault that left her breathless and pleading. His mouth covered her, his tongue driving her crazy with its strong, sensuous attack.

She swelled and tightened, then turned to liquid fire. She cried out; he groaned, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She splintered into a million pieces of indescribable pleasure; his sex hardened painfully when fragments of her fulfillment sizzled through his body. Tiny sparks of white-hot ecstasy claimed him as surely as they had Jeannie.

During the moments of downward-spiraling release, Jeannie squeezed Sam's shoulders, urging him to stand. He stood slowly, sliding himself up and against her. She circled him with her hand. He gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out, and covered her hand with his, instructing her movements. Once. Twice. Three times. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth at the precise moment he erupted into completion. He threw back his head as a deep, guttural cry escaped from his lips, torn from his body with the force of his release. Experiencing to an infinite degree the explosion of Sam's sensations and emotions, Jeannie wrapped her arms around his waist. They clung to each other, weak and exhausted, as the water washed over them. Finally, Sam reached out and shut off the water.

Covering Jeannie in a huge white towel, he dried her with the patience of a parent tending to a child. She reciprocated, drying him, delighting in his playful growl when she stroked him intimately.

Naked, clean and sated, they gazed longingly into each other's eyes. At that precise moment, words were redundant. He kissed her gently; she returned the kiss. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her back to her bed, stripped away the soiled coverlet and jerked the floral blanket up into the air. He flung the blanket over his shoulder, half of it covering Jeannie. She peeked out from beneath the blanket as he carried her outside, onto the veranda. He kissed her on the nose. She giggled.

Sam covered a huge wicker rocker with the floral blanket, then sat down, Jeannie in his lap. She cuddled in his arms, their naked bodies warm against each other. They sat in the wicker rocker on the veranda, man and woman, lovers for the first time, and the bonding that had begun on the beach six years ago grew stronger. They both felt what was happening. She acknowledged it in her heart; he fought the truth, unable to relinquish complete control.

For endless moments, time having become meaningless, they absorbed the beauty of the night, the moon and stars, the soft, balmy breeze, the ocean's song.

Hours later, Jeannie awoke in his arms and lifted her head, seeking his mouth, initiating a kiss that quickly turned passionate. Turning her body, she rose over him, straddling him, bracing her knees on each side of him. "Make love to me again, Sam." She nuzzled his ear with her nose.

"It's too soon. You're sore, and I don't want to hurt you again." He stroked her hip.

"I'm not that sore," she told him. "I ache with the wanting, and I know you do, too."

Gripping her buttocks, he lifted her as he stood and carried her across the porch, resting her on the top of the wide banister. She kept her arms locked around his neck as he positioned himself, bending his knees, pulling her forward. The joining was swift and complete. Jeannie gasped; Sam moaned. Clutching her hips in his big hands, he guided her back and forth, lifting her completely off the banister. She wrapped her legs around him, clinging to him as the hard, hot plunges stroked her to an unbearable pleasure. She spiraled out of control, crying out her completion. Sam shook from the sensations he experienced, then fell headlong into oblivion with one final, forceful lunge. While he trembled, she quivered, and he held her in his arms, her legs and arms wrapped around him, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss. And the intimate bonding of their hearts and souls continued, binding them together, strengthening their ability to share every feeling.

From inside the house, they heard the soft, sweet strains of piano music. Jeannie's song. Manton knew. And he was paying tribute to their love.

* * *

Jeannie kicked the sand with her bare toes. Sam rubbed suntan lotion on her delicate skin, coating her back and arms thoroughly, then starting on her legs. Beautiful, silky legs. But physically weak, unable to fully support her slender weight. He kissed her inner thigh. She ruffled his thick blond hair.

Sam looked up at her and smiled. "I promise you, my childhood was boring and meaningless. I don't know why you want to hear about it."

"Because I picture you as this serious little boy who went around with a frown on his face." Jeannie giggled when he tickled her foot. "Come on, tell me. This is called getting to know each other. You go first."

Sam completed his suntan detail, recapped the bottle and tossed it on the blanket beside the picnic hamper. "My father was a career soldier, so I didn't see much of him, even before he died. After our mother's death, James and I lived with an aunt and uncle, and I stayed on with them when James joined the marines. Aunt Harriet and Uncle Pete are both gone now."

"Were you a happy child?" Jeannie rummaged around inside the picnic basket, retrieved a bottle of wine and two clear plastic glasses. She handed the wine to Sam.

He opened the bottle, filled their glasses, then reached around Jeannie to place the wine back in the hamper. "I guess I enjoyed my childhood as much as any kid does, but I never had a lot of friends. I was a bit of a loner." Jeannie handed Sam a glass of wine. "I idolized my father. So did James. I thought my dad was a real hero. I wanted to be just like him."

"I never knew my real father." Jeannie placed cheese, apples and wheat crackers on a plastic plate. "My mother got pregnant when she was sixteen. She was only twenty-two when she married Randy Foley." Jeannie shook her head from side to side, making her long ponytail bounce from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. "Julian and Manton have both been like fathers to me."

"Yeah, well, when our old man died, James became my substitute father. I followed him into the marines as soon as I turned eighteen. And when he got married, James's wife told me that their home would always be mine. Sandra was a special lady."

Jeannie clasped Sam's hand. "It's all right to still feel sad about their dying so young."

"Elizabeth was only twelve. She really needed her parents, but she was lucky. She had a great-aunt who understood what it meant to be psychic. Legally, I was Elizabeth's guardian, but her great-aunt Margaret was the one who raised her."

"You love Elizabeth dearly, don't you?"

Sam brought Jeannie's hand to his lips, kissed the open palm and laid it over his heart. "She's the only person I had in my life to love." He gazed down into the wine, sighed, then took a sip. "But she's a grown woman now, married and a mother. Every time I look at her little boy—"

"You want a child of your own, don't you, Sam?" She sensed the need in him, tapping into his emotions simply by touching him. Big, macho, hard-edged soldier, government agent and bodyguard, Sam Dundee had a central core of goodness, a wellspring of pure golden love just waiting to be lavished on a child.

He jerked away from her, spilling his wine. Standing, he faced the sun, then shaded his eyes with his big hand. She watched him, his broad shoulders moving slightly when he breathed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I couldn't help picking up on what you were feeling. I didn't mean to intrude on something that's obviously painful for you."

She knew! Dear God, she knew. She had gotten that deep inside him.

Sam willed himself not to think about what had happened six years ago, about what had happened to the child who might have been his. "Your childhood was pretty rotten, wasn't it?" he asked her, deliberately changing the subject. "Until you went to live with Julian and Miriam Howell."

"You can't imagine." Jeannie sipped the wine slowly. "From when I was six and Mama married Randy Foley, until I was thirteen and they died in the car crash that crippled me, I lived in pain every day of my life. Except…"

Sam sat down again on the quilt beside Jeannie, cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face upward. She stared into his eyes. "Except when you came to Le Bijou Bleu for vacations."

"This island was my heaven. And Manton was my guardian angel. He was the first person I communicated with telepathically. I never told Mama and Randy. It would have been one more thing they would have tried to exploit. And I didn't try to develop the talent. It never happened again until Miriam became sick and…" Tears gathered in Jeannie's eyes; she bit her bottom lip. "I loved her so dearly."

"Cancer can be a horrible way to die," Sam said.

"She suffered unbearably near the end." Jeannie swallowed her tears as the memories of Miriam's final days flooded her memory.

"And you shared that suffering. You made it bearable." He pulled her into his arms, stroking her back, resting his head atop hers, his cheek brushing her hair. "It must have been terrible for you."

"Yes and no. It would have been worse for me if I hadn't been able to absorb some of her pain, to take away the suffering for just a few hours, to give her a little relief. There came a time when the drugs didn't help."

"She was very fortunate to have you." Sam kissed the side of Jeannie's face.

She slipped her arms around his waist, touching his naked skin beneath his loose cotton shirt. "I was fortunate to have her for a mother for so many years. She was an extraordinary woman. Beautiful. Brilliant. Compassionate. I would have done anything for her."

"And you did." He soothed her with his hands, caressing her tenderly.

"Can't you understand?" She looked at him, asking him to put himself in her place. "If you saw someone you loved in excruciating pain, wouldn't you want to make the pain go away? Wouldn't you, if you could, suffer that pain for them?"

Sam kissed her. Hot. Fierce. Demanding. Yes, he understood what it meant to care so deeply for someone, to be willing to die for that person if necessary. When he released her mouth, she gasped for air.

"Sam?" She'd felt it, that tiny kernel of emotion called love. It was there, buried so deep within Sam that he wasn't even consciously aware it existed. All these years, there had been no one to keep love alive in Sam, no one except Elizabeth.

But Sam had never been deeply in love, had never bonded with a woman. Not until— But their bonding was incomplete, despite a week of making love and sharing private thoughts and feelings. He wouldn't allow himself to love her. The risk was too great. And as much as he wanted a child—even if he denied that great desire—he had not made love to Jeannie again, after that first night, without using protection.

And just who was he protecting, she wondered, her or himself?

Sam peeled off his shirt, dropped it on the quilt and nodded toward the ocean. "How about a swim before we eat lunch?"

Jeannie held up her arms to him. He lifted her, carried her across the beach, and together they dived into the water. Within minutes, his dark mood lightened and the sadness left her eyes. They frolicked in the Gulf like two playful children. Later they sat in the shade of a huge old live oak with branches that drooped to the ground and had taken root. They ate the cheese and fruit, drank the wine and made slow, sweet love.

With each passing day, with each shared intimacy, Sam and Jeannie's joining became stronger. If Sam could ever bring himself to love her, truly love her, they would become one. Every beat of his heart, hers. Every breath she took, his. Her thoughts, her emotions, her feelings, would belong to him, and his to her. How deep the bonding would go, even Jeannie did not know.

Chapter 13

« ^ »

Jeannie cuddled in Sam's arms. The late-afternoon sun was behind them, the ocean breeze soft and warm on their bare skin. With an occasional backward sweep of his foot, Sam kept the wooden porch swing in slow but continuous motion as he held Jeannie close. Caressing her shoulder with one hand, he rested his cheek against the side of her head. Her fresh, clean smell surrounded him. Turning her head just a fraction, she glanced up at him and smiled. Bringing his mouth down on hers, he kissed her with the wonderful sweetness of familiarity. In the twenty days they'd spent on Le Bijou Bleu, Sam had allowed himself to drown in the pleasure of loving Jeannie, of being at her side night and day, of discovering the incredible sensations of having his lover experience his every emotion, just as he was beginning to experience hers.

They hadn't spoken about what was happening to him, the fact that he was becoming more and more attuned to Jeannie's thoughts and feelings with each passing day. Although Sam didn't scoff at the idea of psychic powers, having been exposed to Elizabeth's psychic talents for so many years, he'd never experienced any himself. Until now, with Jeannie. Although whatever was happening to him was on a limited basis, he had to admit that he could communicate with Jeannie telepathically, to a certain extent. And each time they made love, the sensation of feeling what she felt grew stronger and stronger. He couldn't imagine what it was like for her, experiencing his fulfillment and her own.

Manton's piano music drifted through the open French doors. Every afternoon, without fail, the gentle giant of a man played his sentimental compositions.

"Listen," Jeannie said. "That's something new. He's never played it before."

The tune seeped into Sam's mind, and for some odd reason, its sweet, vibrant melody resurrected long-buried memories. That night six years ago, a three-piece band had played on the riverboat nightclub owned by Louis Herriot, a man the DEA wanted badly enough to place Sam and new agent Brock Holmes in a dangerous undercover operation. And everything had gone exactly as planned, until Connie Bell inadvertently walked into the middle of things as the sting was coming down.

"Sam?" Jeannie touched his face.

He jumped, then stared at her, suddenly aware of where his thoughts were leading him. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not." She caressed his cheek.

Closing his eyes, loving the feel of her, he covered her hand. "There's no point in talking about what happened. It's over and done with, and I'll have to live with the consequences the rest of my life. All the talking in the world won't change anything."

"Talking might help you deal with the grief and the guilt." She sensed his resistance, his fear, his guilt. Several times she had been right on the verge of telling him she was aware of the terrible pain eating away at his soul, but he'd sealed himself off from her, and she had respected his privacy.

"Don't you know you can share anything with me and I'll understand? If you'll only let me, I can ease your suffering."

Releasing his hold on her, he moved away, then stood, keeping his back to her. He thrust his hands into the front pockets of the cutoff jeans he wore. "Like you did the day you saved my life?"

She shivered with the force of his anger as it spiraled inside her. Reaching for her cane that rested against the wall, she slid to the edge of the swing. "Yes, like I did the day I found you on the beach. You felt guilty for two people's deaths. You didn't think you deserved to live."

"Yeah." Sam walked down the veranda, stopping several feet away from her. "I thought I was dying, and when I came to and saw you, I thought you were an angel." He emitted a grunting laugh. "Ironic, isn't it? As it turned out, that's exactly what you were."

"You can't spend the rest of your life blaming yourself, hating yourself, letting that guilt destroy your ability to live and love." Positioning her cane, Jeannie stood and took several steps toward Sam. She laid her hand on his back. He flinched.

"Don't do this," he said. "I don't want you to suffer for me. I don't want you to know what it feels like."

"Please trust me, Sam." She slipped her arms around his waist, holding tight when he started to withdraw from her. "You must know how much you mean to me. You're the one person in this world I most want to help."

His unrelenting guilt hit her with shattering force. She clung to Sam, resting her head on his back. Dear God, the pain inside him was unbearable. Dark, bitter rage simmered in his soul. Damned forever. Oh, her poor Sam. A lesser man would never know such guilt.

"Stop it!" He realized what had happened, what he had allowed to happen. Dammit, he wasn't going to let her absorb any more of the tormenting grief from which he could never escape. His grief and guilt were his punishment, not hers. She was innocent, so very innocent.

"Talk to me about what happened. Let it go. Give it to me and let me share your burden. Allow me to help you." While she held him with the fierceness of that abiding protective devotion, she gave those very feelings over to him, allowing him to experience the great depth of her emotions.

"I don't want your help!" Jerking out of her embrace, he stalked off the veranda and across the wide expanse of lush green lawn.

Jeannie stood on the veranda and watched him walk away. Tears filled her eyes, ran down her cheeks, trickled off her nose and over her lips. She couldn't force him to come to her, expose his heart's deepest emotions and bare his soul. But neither could she let him suffer alone, as he had done for the past six years. If he would not allow her to take away his guilt and grief for a few hours, she could still be at his side, supporting him while he grieved anew.

She took one step down from the veranda, then heard Manton call to her. Turning around, she saw him standing behind her.

Did you like the new composition I played for you and Sam today? he asked telepathically.

It was lovely, but—

It made Sam very sad, didn't it?

Yes. It made him think of something he would like to forget.

I wrote the song for your child, Jeannie. For your and Sam Dundee's child.

Jeannie stared directly into Manton's piercing green eyes. Several days ago, she had made the first connection with the new life growing inside her. If she had not been so overwhelmed with all the new feelings she'd experienced the first time she and Sam made love, she would have known immediately that she had conceived his child.

"I knew I couldn't keep the child a secret from you," she said her lips moving silently.

You should not keep her a secret from her father, either.

Jeannie laid her hand tenderly over her flat stomach. Sam's child. The most precious gift God could have given her. She had been given so much. Dare she ask for Sam's salvation from guilt and grief? Dare she ask that he be freed from the past so that he could open his heart and love her? Perhaps she had been blessed with more than enough. Perhaps what she and Sam had already been given was all heaven would allow.

I can't tell Sam now. It's too soon. He has to deal with his old grief first.

Then go to him, Manton said. He will never be able to come to terms with what is destroying him without your help.

Jeannie embraced Manton, her heart filled with love for him. He was the dearest of men, his soul so pure that it was on its final journey to completion.

She walked down the steps and into the yard. She knew where Sam had gone. Back to the beach where he had washed ashore six years ago.

She found him looking out at the ocean, his body statue-hard, the wind whipping his hair into his eyes, his face etched with tense lines of agony.

When she approached him, she didn't touch him, but he sensed her presence. Turning around, he looked at her with dead eyes, eyes of pure gray steel. She took a tentative step forward; he didn't move. Another step. And another.

He watched her, his gaze fixed to hers. She stood directly in front of him, one hand holding her walking stick, the other clutching the side of her peach gauze skirt. A muscle in his neck throbbed. His lips parted. He sucked in a deep breath.

Tearstains marred her face. The hand with which she held the cane trembled, the movement barely discernible. She looked at him with eyes of love and understanding and compassion. His big shoulders slumped ever so slightly. His eyes softened from steel to blue-gray.

He was losing this battle, and he knew it. He might be twice Jeannie's size, his body far more powerful, but inside that fragile body, within that enormous heart of hers, lived a strength for which Sam was no match.

A fine glaze of moisture covered his eyes. He blinked away the evidence of emotion, but he could not turn away from Jeannie. He pulled her into his arms. She went willingly, gladly, dropping her cane onto the sandy beach. She wrapped him in the warmth of her embrace, petting his back with gentle up-and-down strokes. After six long years of running away from a truth that tormented him, Sam knew the time had come to exorcise the demon.

But, dear God, how could he endure watching her hurt for him? How could he, once again, be the recipient of her tender mercy?

"I knew better." He spoke softly, the words a mere whisper on the wind. "If I hadn't been so damned stupid!"

"You made a mistake, Sam. Everyone makes mistakes." She hugged him, absorbing his feelings.

"But not everyone's mistakes cost two people their lives." Clinging to her, he allowed her inside his mind and heart and body. He held back nothing.

Releasing her hold around his waist, she reached up and took his face in her hands. Every muscle in his body tensed. Jeannie held his face, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. "Say it. You blame yourself for Brock Holmes's death. He was a rookie agent, and you felt responsible for him. You blame yourself for the death of Connie Bell, the woman you were having an affair with, the woman who was a nightclub singer in Louie Herriot's employ. You knew better than to become personally involved with someone while you were on an assignment. If you hadn't been sleeping with her, she wouldn't have shown up at the wrong place and the wrong time and gotten shot.

"But it isn't Brock's death, or even Connie's, that you can never forgive yourself for causing. Tell me, Sam. Say it aloud. You've never done that, have you? You keep the truth hidden so deep inside you that it's festered into a rotting sore."

He glared at her, his big body shaking, his eyes dry, his face crumpling before her very eyes. "Dammit, she was pregnant!"

"I know." Jeannie slid her hands down Sam's neck and out to his shoulders, gripping them firmly. "Say it. Just this once, and you'll never have to say it again."

The pain inside him carried him to his knees, Jeannie with him. She could feel the guilt, the anguish, the gut-wrenching pain, as it began to leave him and make its way into her.

"Don't you see, the child could have been mine? I didn't have any idea she was pregnant. After I woke up in the Biloxi hospital, I found out about her being pregnant from another agent who'd been sent in to wrap up the case. Connie was two months pregnant. That baby—" he clutched Jeannie's hands, holding them between their bodies "—was probably mine."

"Say it!" Jeannie cried the tears Sam could not shed. The pain eased from him; she took it upon herself.

"It's my fault that child was never born. I'm responsible for the death of my own child!"

A heavy weight of guilt lifted from Sam. Pain and grief cleared from his heart and soul. He breathed deeply, drawing fresh air into his lungs, cleaning out the dark, dank recesses of his heart, allowing, his soul a brief hint of reprieve.

At sunset, Jeannie sat in Sam's lap on the beach, cocooned in the security of his strong arms. Sam held her, never wanting to let her go.

"The grief and the guilt will always be there," she said. "You know that, don't you? But now that you've faced them, you can learn to deal with them."

"I can't change the past."

"No, but you must learn to live with it."

"I wasn't in love with Connie, and she wasn't in love with me. She'd just broken off with another guy, and I knew he was still around."

"The child could have been his or yours, and you'll never know." Jeannie took Sam's hand and laid it on her stomach, covering his hand with hers. "But the guilt is the same, because there's a good chance the child was yours."

"If I hadn't let my… I knew better. I screwed up and it cost two … three people's lives."

"The only way to atone for that mistake is to make the most of your life. Give all that's good and strong within you to others. Forgive yourself, and find the love buried deep inside you."

"I don't know if there's any love in me," he said.

"You love Elizabeth and her child." Jeannie leaned back, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I know there's more love inside you, if you'll only release it. But no one else can do that for you, Sam. Not even me."

No, not even Jeannie, sweet, angelic Jeannie, could save him. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted to be saved. He had become accustomed to his guilt and remorse. To the pain. And the price of salvation was too high. If a man didn't care too much, he didn't put his emotions on the line. If caring for others to the extent Jeannie cared, and being willing to open himself up to his deepest emotions, was the only recourse, Sam knew he was damned. Jeannie Alverson was expecting too much from him. He could never be the man she wanted or needed.

Turning in his arms quickly, Jeannie kissed him. A tender, loving kiss. "It's all right. I'm not asking for more than you can give." She caressed his cheek, knowing in her heart that her words were a lie. She wanted Sam Dundee. All of him. His body. His heart. His mind. His very soul. And she wanted him forever. But he hadn't promised her forever. All they had was today.

* * *

The ringing telephone awoke them before dawn. Within minutes, Manton knocked softly on Jeannie's bedroom door.

"Something's wrong." Jeannie sat upright, the pastel floral sheet sliding off her naked breasts to rest at her waist. "We've received a fax from the mainland."

Sam slipped into his shorts and stepped out into the hallway. Manton handed him the faxed communication. Scanning the message quickly, Sam groaned. His stomach muscles tightened. Hell! He wished he didn't have to tell Jeannie. There would be no way to keep her on the island once she knew what had happened.

"I'll tell her." Sam looked directly at Manton so that the big man could read his lips.

Manton nodded, then signed to Sam. In the three weeks they'd been on the island, Sam had tried to learn a few basic words in sign. The best he could make out, Manton was saying he'd prepare some coffee and would bring it to them.

Jeannie pulled her pastel yellow gown over her head, lifting her body to ease the silky material down her hips. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she looked up at Sam when he returned with the fax message in his hand.

"It's Julian. What's happened? Did Maynard Reeves—? Oh, no, it's Julian's heart."

Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, Sam took her hands in his. "Julian's had a heart attack. He's in intensive care. The fax is from Marta. She's with him."

"I've got to get to Biloxi." She squeezed Sam's hands. "Julian needs me. No one else can help him the way I can."

"Maynard Reeves still poses as much of a threat to you as he ever did. If you return to Biloxi, you'll be in danger."

"I know that." She bowed her head, praying silently.

"The doctors will take care of Julian. If they can't save his life, then there's nothing you can do."

She snapped her head up, glaring at Sam. "I'm going back to Biloxi. If Julian dies, I want to be there with him. And if he lives, I can help."

Sam wondered why he had even tried to reason with Jeannie. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that her compassionate heart would always win any battle against logic? For there was no logic to Jeannie's powers, no reasonable explanation. Somehow she had been blessed, or perhaps she'd been cursed, with the ability to truly bestow loving kindness on others. He, of all people, knew what it meant to be the recipient of her tender mercy.

Sam nodded. Jeannie's glare softened to a gentle stare. "I'll take care of Julian," she said. "And you will take care of me."

He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll take good care of you." Standing, he helped her to her feet and into her silk robe, then handed her a cane. "Manton's fixing coffee."

"I'm sorry our days in paradise have to come to an end," Jeannie said, looking at him lovingly.

"Anywhere I am with you is paradise. Don't you know that?"

Manton knocked on the door, then came in carrying a tray, which he placed on Jeannie's desk, an antique of white-painted wood, with a sailing ship surrounded by a circle of roses stenciled on the back. He poured Jeannie a cup, placing cream and sugar in the coffee, then handed it to her. He poured another cup and handed the black liquid to Sam.

Immediately he signed to Sam, looking to Jeannie to translate whatever wasn't immediately understood.

"He wants you to keep me safe," Jeannie said. "He senses danger for both of us. He doesn't want us to leave the island, but he understands that we must."

Jeannie patted Manton's enormous hand, then lifted it to her lips and kissed it. "We'll come back to Le Bijou Bleu as soon as Julian is well." She glanced over at Sam. "Won't we?"

Sam nodded agreement, but he wasn't sure he'd ever return to this island. Once they were back in Biloxi, he would have to deal with Maynard Reeves. After three weeks of searching for any type of evidence that would warrant Reeves's arrest, the local and federal authorities still had nothing concrete. Reeves was still a free man, waiting for Jeannie Alverson to come out of hiding.

* * *

Marta McCorkle kissed Julian's pale cheek, then thanked the young nurse who stood by his bedside. She walked out of the ICU unit and right past the man who stood with his back to her. Maynard Reeves had been told of Julian's heart attack by a Righteous Light disciple, a hospital janitor who'd been working when the medics rushed Julian into the emergency room.

Maynard had been waiting patiently for Marta McCorkle to leave the ICU. All he needed was a few moments alone with Julian Howell. For twenty days, he had tried by every method possible to discover Jeannie Alverson's whereabouts. Dundee had taken her away, was hiding her, keeping her safe. Maynard knew his only hope of finding Jeannie was to get the information from the one person who would know where she was. Julian Howell. But he hadn't been able to get anywhere near Dr. Howell, and making a psychic link with someone he couldn't touch was beyond his capabilities.

No one, except Jeannie and his old friend Wayland Krenshaw, knew he was psychic. Wayland was his right-hand man, a trusted deacon in the church they had founded together. But Jeannie was his enemy. She had refused to join his great cause, to use her talent, as he used his, in the service of the Lord.

He deeply regretted that his psychic abilities were so limited. He knew God had meant for his powers to be greater, but his stupid parents had stifled the natural growth of his powers. If only Jeannie Alverson had joined him, there would have been no limit to the heights he could have reached. Together, they could have been the most powerful force for good in the world.

But Jeannie had shown her true colors. She dared not use her powers in the Lord's service, when her real master was the devil. The woman was a witch, not a saint, as he had hoped. She and her guardian, Dundee, would annihilate him if they could. Satan had given her enormous power, power far greater than those Maynard himself had been blessed with. He had no choice but to destroy her, before she destroyed him.

"May I help you, Father?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, my child. I've come to see Julian Howell." Reeves stood tall and straight in his priest's disguise, one he knew might gain him an audience with Dr. Howell.

"Are you his priest?"

"My parish is near New Orleans," Reeves lied. "I'm a family friend who has been called in for special prayers."

"Dr. Howell's daughter hasn't arrived yet," the nurse said. "And Ms. McCorkle has gone to make a few phone calls. I really need the family's permission before I allow you to visit Dr. Howell."

"My dear child, I am here at the family's request." He lifted the white Bible he held in his hand. "They know I will be a comfort to Julian."

"Well, I don't suppose there would be anything wrong with letting you come in for a few minutes."

Maynard flashed her his most charming smile, the smile he had used often to persuade ladies to donate large sums of money to the Righteous Light Church. "I need only a few minutes."

Maynard found Julian Howell resting comfortably, his every bodily function monitored. The young nurse stayed with him, still a bit uneasy about allowing someone other than immediate family to visit an ICU patient.

Placing his hand over Julian's, Maynard closed his eyes and began mumbling something he hoped would sound like a prayer. He lowered his voice, allowing it to drift off into silence. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Julian. Hazy, sleepy, surreal thoughts and images clouded Julian's mind. Maynard probed deeper.

Jeannie is safe, Maynard said telepathically. Far away from Biloxi and any danger. Think about where she is and how safe she is.

Visions of blue sky and water formed in Maynard's mind, then an island, lush and green, a big raised French cottage resting high on a hill.

Dundee had taken her to an island. But where?

When Maynard tried to delve deeper into Julian's subconscious mind, he realized Jeannie's foster father was fighting him, trying to keep him out before he acquired the much-needed information.

Julian thrashed about in the bed. The nurse rushed to his side. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave. Something's wrong. Dr. Howell is becoming quite agitated."

Maynard forced his way past the barrier in Julian's mind. Le Bijou Bleu. The distance from Biloxi and the location of the island flashed through Julian's thoughts, and then his mind closed.

"Father, please leave," the nurse repeated her request.

Opening his eyes, Maynard smiled. "Yes, of course. I'll return later, when he's awake and calm."

When Maynard opened the door to exit the ICU unit, Lieutenant Painter met him. How had that idiot found him? He'd been certain he'd ditched the policeman following him.

"Changed religious affiliations, Reverend Reeves?" Painter asked. "Or should I call you Father Reeves now?

"Reverend Reeves will do. What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"Visiting the sick, of course."

"I'm sure I could hold you in jail overnight, Reverend. Impersonating a priest might not stick in court, but I could drum up some other charges to go with it so we could haul your butt in for questioning."

"The clothing I choose to wear in my role as a minster of the gospel is my business, and the fact that a young nurse mistook me for a priest is not my fault." Maynard wasn't afraid of the police. He had outsmarted them time and again. No, he didn't have anything to fear from the likes of Rufus Painter.

"What the hell is he doing here?" A deep voice roared from the doorway leading into the waiting room.

Maynard jerked around, his eyes widening with surprise. Sam Dundee. And, at his side, Jeannie Alverson. Maynard smiled. So, he would not have to go in search of the witch after all. She had returned. No doubt to cast a spell to cure her foster father.

Jeannie clung to her protector's arm. She was so sure he could guard her from the inevitable. Well, she was wrong. Sam Dundee was indeed a formidable opponent, but all Maynard needed was a little time to figure out how to bring the big man down.

"I thought y'all were watching him," Jeannie said. "How did he get in here to see Julian?"

"He's leaving right now," Painter said. "I'm driving him to the station, where he can call his lawyer before answering a few questions for us."

"This is all a waste of time," Maynard told them. "You cannot condemn an innocent man. And you have no evidence that I've committed any crime."

"Lieutenant, would you mind going with Jeannie to see Dr. Howell?" Sam asked. "Reeves is right. Taking him in would be a waste of time. Yours and his."

"How wise of you to understand," Maynard said.

"Please, Lieutenant, go with Jeannie. She's anxious to see her father."

"Sam?" Jeannie said, questioning his intentions.

"Go on. See about Julian."

Lieutenant Painter escorted a reluctant Jeannie into the private ICU cubicle, leaving Maynard alone in the waiting area with Sam.

"Watch her day and night, Dundee." Maynard laughed, the sound robust and confident. "You know not time hour or the day I will strike."

Sam grabbed Maynard by the neck, dragging his face up to his. My God, what did the man intend to do? Kill him on the spot? Maynard lifted his trembling hands, desperately trying to dislodge himself from Dundee's choking hold. Maynard gasped, then struggled for air when Sam tightened the pressure on his windpipe.

"Know this, Reeves—if any harm comes to Jeannie, you will die. And a soul as black as yours will surely rot in hell forever."

Chapter 14

« ^ »

Jeannie sat at Julian's bedside, his hand clasped in hers. She had stayed with him since her return to Biloxi, thirty-six hours earlier. Sam had done everything short of knocking her out and throwing her over his shoulder to get her to leave for a short rest, but she had refused. The doctors had told them Julian was out of any immediate danger, but with a heart-attack victim, nothing could be certain.

Jeannie had been given special permission to stay with Julian in ICU, but Sam had been banished to the waiting area, except for regularly scheduled visits. The past thirty-six hours had been an exercise in torture for him. Keeping guard at a distance was not Sam's style of protection.

The ICU door opened and Jeannie walked out, a wide smile on her face. "They're moving Julian to a private room. He's improving quickly. The doctors are astonished."

Sam dropped the newspaper he'd been scanning, stood and walked over to Jeannie. "They don't realize Julian's had a little extra help in his recovery." He slipped his arm around her.

"Julian loves roses. While they're moving him, I want to order some flowers for him. Two or three dozen roses. And you can run by the house … no, not by the house, by the cottage, and pick up some pajamas and a robe for Julian, and—"

Sam kissed her into silence, then released her quickly. "I'm not going anywhere. Call Ollie and have her bring over Julian's things."

"Julian gave Ollie a much-needed vacation to visit her sister in Tupelo, while the repairs are being done on our house. Don't you remember my telling you?"

"Then have Marta pick up Julian's stuff." With his arm around her shoulders, he turned her toward the outer waiting room door. "And you can order flowers after you've eaten something. You haven't left Julian's side, except to use the bathroom and drink a few cups of coffee. You haven't eaten anything except a doughnut one of the nurses brought you." He brushed away an errant strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. "And as soon as you check on Julian, after he's in a private room, I'm taking you to the cottage for some rest."

"I'll eat soon. I promise. And I'll rest as soon as I'm sure Julian will be all right without me." She knew Sam was right. She needed food and rest. She was thankful Sam had been forced to remain in the waiting area. If he'd seen her faint twice, he would have taken her away from Julian, despite her protests. And if he knew about her condition—that she was carrying his child—he wouldn't allow her to give Julian the peace of mind and pain-free rest he so desperately needed.

"Dammit, Jeannie, you can't go on this way. Not eating. Not sleeping. Julian wouldn't want you to endanger your health to help him."

"The choice is mine. Not Julian's. And not yours." But there was more to consider than her own health; she had to think about her child. "Please, Sam. I'll order the flowers, then call Marta. And I'll eat something in Julian's room. You choose my menu, and I'll eat every bite. But I must stay with Julian until I'm certain he doesn't need me anymore."

How could she make Sam understand how much she owed Julian? He had been the surgeon who saved her life after the car wreck, when she was thirteen. Later, he and Miriam had taken her into their home, helped her through years of therapy and made her the daughter they'd never had. The Howells had given Jeannie the beautiful, peaceful existence that had been hers before the truth about her past had been revealed. There was nothing she wouldn't do for Julian or for Manton, just as there had been nothing she wouldn't do for Miriam.

"You're going home tonight." His statement left no room for argument. Regardless of her protests, Sam was determined to save her from her own stubbornness.

Jeannie reached up, caressed his cheek and looked into his eyes. "When I love someone, I love them completely, with no reservations, no limitations. Like you, Sam, I haven't given my love often. I love Julian and Manton the way you love Elizabeth and her little Jimmy."

"I know how you feel," Sam said. "But understand this—I'm taking you home tonight, if I have to drag you out of this hospital kicking and screaming."

She smiled, stretched on tiptoe to drag his face down to hers, then kissed him. "See if the cafeteria is serving spaghetti. With lots of Parmesan cheese."

Sam swatted her behind. She giggled. God, how he loved the sound of her happy giggles.

* * *

Jeannie devoured the plate of spaghetti Sam had delivered from a restaurant, along with chocolate cheesecake and ice tea.

"I don't think I can eat another bite." She shoved the plate aside. "I'll save the cheesecake for later."

"You'll take it home with you," Julian told her, then looked at Sam. "You should have made her leave long before now. She's exhausted. See those dark circles under her eyes? She's done too much for me already."

"You know Jeannie. She wouldn't leave willingly," Sam said. "But she's going home tonight, willing or not."

Julian chuckled. "I'm so sorry this happened. My heart attack brought her right back to Biloxi, and put her within Maynard Reeves's grasp."

"Sam will protect me from the good reverend." Jeannie finished off the tall glass of ice tea, wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and shoved back her chair. "And as soon as the doctors say it's all right, we'll all go to Le Bijou Bleu."

Julian pointed to the television, which he'd set to the weather channel. "If that tropical depression off the coast of Africa moves in our direction, we might be in for a hurricane, or at the least a bad storm. You might be stuck here in Biloxi."

Jeannie turned her attention to the weatherman's forecast. "Or it could die out before it gets here, or move north or farther south and miss us completely."

"Nevertheless, you'll want to warn Manton to keep an eye on the weather," Julian said. "Is the storm shelter on the island in good repair?"

"Stop worrying. Everything on Le Bijou Bleu is in tip-top shape." Jeannie had been in the storm shelter only once, when she was ten and a tropical storm hit the Gulf Coast. She'd heard Julian talk about what devastation Hurricane Camille had caused back in 1969 and thanked God that Manton had survived in the storm shelter, located in the basement of the cottage.

"I don't like your being back here in Biloxi," Julian said. "It's too dangerous for you as long as Maynard Reeves walks around a free man."

"You musn't worry about me. You let Sam do that. I want you to concentrate on getting well."

"I know about Reeves's visit." Julian glanced from Jeannie to Sam. "Don't go looking for someone to blame. I overheard a conversation about the reverend passing himself off as a priest."

"I didn't want you to know," Jeannie said. "At least not until after you were fully recovered."

"I don't remember seeing him," Julian said. "I have no idea what his reason for coming to the hospital might have been."

"You were his only connection to me." Jeannie walked over and sat down in a chair beside Julian's bed. "Perhaps he thought he could threaten you into revealing where Sam had taken me."

"I can't believe the police haven't come up with something that can put that man away." Lifting himself into a sitting position, Julian clutched the bed's rails. His cheeks flushed. Beads of sweat broke out on his face. "There has to be something they can do!"

"Julian, please don't upset yourself." Jeannie grabbed his hand, instantly feeling the surge of anger shooting through him, the rise in his blood pressure, his accelerated heartbeat.

"I'll be … all … right. Don't … don't…" Julian gripped her hand when the first sharp pain struck him.

Clasping his hand tightly, Jeannie cried out as the pain entered her. She trembled from the force of his suffering.

Sam flew across the room, halting behind Jeannie's chair as he placed his big hands over her shoulders, cupping her upper arms. What the hell had happened? "Jeannie?" She didn't respond. "Dammit, don't do this. You're too weak."

Shivering, she closed her eyes and absorbed all Julian's pain, stopping the onset of another heart attack. His anger and fear trickled into her mind, leaving him at peace. Jeannie cried out; tears streamed down her face. Sam ripped Julian's hand out of Jeannie's, jerked her chair around and fell to his knees in front of her.

The anguish on her face told him all he needed to know. She was hurting, hurting badly, and all he could do was watch her suffer. If only he could give her some of his strength. If only he could absorb her pain, the way she had absorbed Julian's. He took her hands in his. She felt ice-cold. Rubbing her hands, he concentrated on mentally connecting with her. Just as he sensed the link beginning to form, a nurse rushed into Julian's room, quickly followed by an entourage prepared to administer lifesaving techniques. The moment the nurse shouted orders for Sam to move, the fragile link to Jeannie's mind shattered.

Sam pulled Jeannie up into his arms and kicked the chair aside. She lay there like a rag doll; Sam realized that she had fainted. The group of technicians hovered around Julian's bed.

"I don't understand," the nurse said. "His heart monitor showed signs of another attack."

"Machines make mistakes." Sam glanced at the nurse with cold gray eyes.

"Damnedest thing I've ever seen," a male nurse said. "Dr. Howell is fine. He's sleeping peaceful. All his vital signs are normal."

"Arrange for a private-duty nurse for Dr. Howell," Sam said. "I'm taking Ms. Alverson home. You have the number of Dr. Howell's rental house, don't you? If his condition changes, contact me."

* * *

Sam undressed Jeannie and laid her, naked and exhausted, in the bed. She had regained consciousness briefly on the drive to the cottage, but once Sam assured her that Julian was fine, she'd drifted off to sleep, unable to fight the total depletion of her strength.

Both beds in the two-bedroom cottage were doubles, neither really long enough or large enough to accommodate Sam's height and size. He'd chosen the room on the back of the house, the quieter, more secluded one, the one that would be sheltered from the morning sun. He didn't want anything disturbing Jeannie's rest.

He'd found some expensive brandy in the kitchen, obviously belonging to Julian. Sam poured himself a shot, downed it in one swallow, then put the liquor away. He didn't want anything dulling his senses, putting him at any disadvantage if he had to confront Reeves. After making a ham sandwich, he devoured it quickly and returned to the bedroom. Jeannie had thrown off the covers and lay in the middle of the bed, her small, sleek, naked body tossing back and forth.

She moaned as she squirmed about in the bed. "Sam … Sam…"

Leaning over the bed, he brushed the hair out of her face, then kissed her forehead. "I'm here, angel. I'm here."

Sighing, she turned toward him, cuddling into a ball. Sam placed his Ruger on the bedside table, then removed his clothes. His body throbbed with desire. Straightening the covers, he folded them at the foot of the bed, lay down beside Jeannie and drew her into his arms.

He didn't fall asleep until nearly dawn, awakening only when the phone rang at ten-fifteen. Jeannie moaned and cuddled closer to his back, but didn't awaken. When he reached for the telephone, his hand grasped his Ruger. He shoved it aside and picked up the receiver.

"Dundee here."

"Mr. Dundee, this is Marta McCorkle. I'm at the hospital with Julian. He's fine, but he's concerned about Jeannie."

Sam glanced at the sleeping beauty curled against him. "She's all right, but still sleeping."

"Would it be all right if I stop by to see her after I leave the hospital?" Marta asked. "I know she'll be eager for an update on Julian, and a report on the Howell School children."

"If she's awake, you can see her," Sam said. "I won't wake her. She needs her rest."

"Of course. I'll stop by sometime after noon. When she wakes, give her Julian's love. And mine."

"I'll do that." Sam hung up the phone.

Sam's stomach growled. He was hungry as a bear. He'd eaten twice in the past forty-eight hours. Easing away from Jeannie so that he wouldn't disturb her, he got out of bed, pulled the cover up to her shoulders, and picked up his wrinkled slacks. Dressing hurriedly, he went into the kitchen. Within minutes he'd set the coffee machine, put bacon on to fry and cracked six eggs into a skillet.

Jeannie found him cooking breakfast in his bare feet, wearing rumpled trousers and an unbuttoned shirt that hung open, showing the center of his broad, hairy chest.

"Are you fixing enough for two?" she asked from where she stood in the doorway.

He continued scrambling the eggs. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked, knowing precisely the moment she'd walked out of the bedroom three minutes ago.

Jeannie tightened the belt on her silk robe. "I can't imagine a more charming sight than a man busy at his domestic duties."

Sam guffawed as a wide grin spread across his face. He glanced up from his cooking, and his heart stopped for one breath-robbing moment. Jeannie stood in the doorway, her long hair falling down her back and over her left shoulder. Leaning on her cane, she put one foot in front of the other, exposing her right thigh between the open folds of her robe. Her round, full breasts pressed against the silk material, her nipples plainly outlined.

His body tightened. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. He wanted to forget breakfast, forget everything, and take Jeannie back to bed and make slow, sweet love to her all day.

"Come on in and take a seat," he said, trying to control his baser instincts. "I think I can spare a few bites for you."

She walked toward him, her gaze moving from his face over every inch of his body, returning to the bulge in his pants. "Breakfast could wait, couldn't it?" She stopped a foot away from him and smiled. "I woke up hungry." She laid her hand on his chest, then smoothed her way downward. "But not for food."

Drawing in a deep breath, Sam grabbed her hand a second before she reached her destination. "I'd like nothing better than to feed that hunger." He slid his arm around her, pulling her up against him as he lifted her hand to his lips. "But for now, you'll have to settle for scrambled eggs and bacon. Marta's on her way over here. If we hurry, we might be able to finish breakfast and catch a quick shower before she gets here.

"We could skip breakfast and go straight to the shower." Spreading apart his unbuttoned shirt, Jeannie smeared a row of tongue-moist kisses across his chest.

He cupped her buttocks, lifting her up and into his arousal. "Angel, you're being a very bad girl this morning."

"I like being bad with you, Sam."

"After you eat a good breakfast, take a shower and visit with Marta, I'll let you be as bad as you want to be." Releasing her, he grunted, then breathed deeply and gave her a gentle shove backward, keeping his hands on her arms to make sure she didn't lose her balance.

"Promise?" she asked. "I'm fine, you know. If you're worried that I'm not recovered from—"

"Stop talking, Jeannie," he said. "I'm having a hard enough time keeping myself from laying you down on the kitchen table and taking you right here and now, without your trying to persuade me to make love to you."

"I like knowing how much you want me. I like it even better when you tell me."

"Yeah, well…" Sam seated her at the table, then turned back to the stove, dished up the scrambled eggs and added three strips of bacon to Jeannie's plate. "Eat up." He placed the food on the table. "I'll get you some coffee."

They ate in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. Jeannie smiled; Sam frowned. She took her shower first, while he cleaned up the kitchen. He showered while she called Julian.

Marta arrived at one o'clock on the dot, hugging Jeannie profusely, assuring her that Julian looked the picture of health. While Marta visited, Sam took the opportunity to survey the cottage and the surrounding yard.

"Everyone at the school misses you terribly," Marta said. "The children ask about you continuously. They really didn't understand exactly how you were helping them, but they're well aware that things have changed since you've been gone."

"As soon as this problem with Maynard Reeves is solved, I'll return to work. I miss the children. I miss all of you."

"Will he be staying?" Marta nodded toward the yard, where they could see Sam surveying his surroundings.

"You mean, will he stay after I'm no longer in danger, when I don't need a bodyguard?"

"Yes. Will he?"

"I don't know."

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Jeannie lowered her head, avoiding Marta's direct stare. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to those who know you well and love you dearly." Marta rose, walked across the living room and sat down on the sofa beside Jeannie. "Somehow I never pictured you with a man like Sam Dundee. He's too … too—"

"Too much a man."

"Well, yes." Cool, calm, controlled Marta blushed. "He's quite sophisticated, and very elegant, but… Oh, my dear, he's so big and brutal-looking, despite being so handsome. And what he does for a living! A bodyguard. You must know that there's every likelihood he's killed someone at some point in his life."

"Yes, you're probably right." Jeannie covered Marta's hand with her own. "But what you don't understand is that Sam needs me and I have so much to give him. And his strengths are my weaknesses and my strengths are his weaknesses."

"You must be careful not to let him break your heart." Squeezing Jeannie's hand, Marta forced a weak smile.

"Julian's worried, isn't he?" Jeannie sensed the truth as Marta clung to her hand. "I think Julian saw me married to a doctor or a lawyer. Someone local, the son of one of his friends or associates. Perhaps a member of the Fleur-de-lis Society."

"Julian loves you as dearly as if you were his own flesh and blood." Releasing Jeannie's hand, Marta stood and looked down at the floor. "Julian believes you and Mr. Dundee are lovers."

"I'll talk to Julian," Jeannie said. "Sam is taking me to visit him after dinner this evening. I'll make Julian understand how much I love Sam."

"He wants only your happiness."

"Sam makes me happy."

"Has he mentioned marriage?" Marta looked at Jeannie.

"No."

"I see."

"Come back and sit down." Jeannie patted the sofa cushion beside her. "I want to hear about every Howell School child. Give me details on progress and setbacks. How is Cassie Mills? And little Justin Walker? And Missy Suddath? Her mother hasn't taken her out of school, has she?"

"That crazy woman!" Marta sat down beside Jeannie. "She comes inside the school every day when she brings Missy, and looks around to make sure you aren't there. We've told her that you are no longer working at the school."

"I want you to continue allowing her some leeway," Jeannie said. "I know Danette has joined the Righteous Light Church and thinks I'm a witch, but I don't want Missy to suffer for her mother's ignorance."

"I've told the staff how you feel and given them instructions to make allowances for Danette Suddath's odd behavior, but I'm telling you, the woman is unbalanced."

"I wish I could help Danette, but she would never allow me near her. The most we can do is take care of Missy."

The front door opened, and Sam Dundee stepped into the living room. Jeannie and Marta looked up at him, Jeannie smiling as Marta patted her on the knee.

"There's a beautiful little secluded garden at the back of the house," Sam said. "How would you like to have supper out there?"

"My son's ex-wife loved the garden," Marta said. "I think it was the main reason they bought this house."

"Well, it's something to see." Sam sat down in the Chippendale armchair to the right of the sofa. "I can see where a woman might find it a selling point when buying a house."

"I think supper in the garden is a lovely idea." Jeannie hoped Marta saw the significance in Sam's suggestion of a romantic supper in a secluded garden. She wanted Julian and Marta to understand why she loved Sam, why she was happy to be carrying his child.

"Well, I need to stop by school and check on things." Marta hugged Jeannie, then stood. "I've neglected my job the last few days."

Standing, Sam walked Marta to the door. She turned to him when he stepped outside with her.

"I'll see y'all at the hospital later this evening," Marta said, and walked down the stone sidewalk. She stopped abruptly, turned around and looked Sam in the eye. "She's in love with you, you know. Please, don't hurt her." Marta rushed to her car, got inside and backed into the street.

Sam watched her drive away, his back to the porch. He heard Jeannie as she approached him, her cane tapping on the wooden porch and steps.

"You musn't let what she said bother you." Jeannie laid her hand on Sam's back.

"How can I not worry?"

"No matter what happens, you'll never hurt me."

He turned, looked at her and closed his eyes, the pain inside him shattering in its intensity. How could she trust him so completely, love him so unselfishly, when he'd made no lasting commitment to her? How could he tell her he loved her, when he wasn't sure he was capable of truly loving a woman the way Jeannie deserved to be loved?

"Show me the garden in the backyard." Bracing herself with her cane, she held out her other hand, inviting his touch.

If he touched her, she'd know exactly how he felt. She'd sense his confusion and uncertainty. And she would feel the desperate need burning inside him.

He took her hand in his and led her around the house to the backyard. All the while they walked—slowly, to accommodate her hampered gait—he allowed her to understand how he felt.

She realized he was unaware of how far he'd come in trusting his innermost thoughts and emotions to her. He'd gone from fighting the tiniest link to full acceptance of their joining. As always, she sensed his protectiveness and his possessiveness. A raging hunger. An overwhelming sexual desire. A deep, unrestrained need. And a sweet, tender caring. Gratitude. Unworthiness. Uncertainty. And fear. She picked up on every delicate nuance of his emotions. But she could not connect to the depths of his heart, to that place where the truth of his feelings lay buried so completely that it was a secret, even to Sam.

The garden wrapped around the back of the cottage like an emerald shawl of dense foliage and lush shade. Opening the wrought-iron gate, they entered beneath a clematis-covered arch and walked down a stone pathway leading to a fully enclosed piece of paradise. A concrete table and benches had been placed in the corner of a climbing-rosebush arbor.

"This is beautiful," Jeannie said.

"You're beautiful." Sam slipped his arm around her waist, urging her to turn.

She went into his arms, knowing what he wanted, admitting to herself that she wanted the same. He wrapped her in his embrace; she snuggled close, loving the feel of his powerful arms holding her.

"Jeannie?"

Make love to me, Sam. Here. Now. In the privacy of our little garden.

He heard her as clearly as if she'd spoken the words aloud. And the moment he took her lips in an all-consuming kiss of possession, he felt the wild, uncontrollable need within him come alive within Jeannie, too.

Slow and easy, he told himself. Don't frighten her. Don't hurt her.

"It's all right," she said, reaching out to slide first one side of his jacket and then the other off his shoulders.

He let the expensive silk jacket fall to the ground, to rest atop a tiny sculptured shrub. He grabbed her by the waist to support her. She dropped her cane on the stone path. Restraining himself, just barely controlling his need to take her like the savage he was, Sam allowed her to undress him. She whipped off his tie and flung it into the air. Unbuttoning his shirt seemed to take forever. She threw it down beside his jacket, then unbuckled his belt.

Sam sucked in a deep breath. His arousal throbbed painfully. Every muscle in his body strained; every nerve screamed.

"Oh, Sam…" Swaying from the force of the sensations she received from his body, she grabbed his forearms.

"You're in charge, angel. We'll do this your way, but I don't think you'll last much longer."

Gulping air, she smiled at him. Perspiration coated her flushed face. She unzipped his slacks and pulled them down his hips. When they hit the ground, Sam kicked them aside. She tugged on his briefs. Taking one hand from her waist, he assisted her in removing the last strip of his clothing.

He stood there, his big body hard, his sex pulsating with life. He felt her longing, knew she was unraveling by slow degrees, just as he was. The passion grew stronger and stronger, becoming raw and uncivilized as it developed.

"Please, Sam," she said aloud.

He pulled her green cotton sweater over her head, loosening her hair. Sliding the pins from her hair, he let it fall free. With shaky fingers, he unlatched the hook on her bra, removed the silken garment and cupped her naked breasts in his hands.

She shivered from head to toe. If he didn't take her soon, she was going to explode. Her sex throbbed painfully. She needed release, needed Sam inside her, giving her all of himself.

"Soon, sweet angel." He kissed each nipple in turn, feeling the spiraling tension in her breasts as it gripped her femininity. She was on fire; he was on fire. Together they would burn themselves out, dissolving into ashes of completion.

Unzipping her slacks, he watched her face. He wanted to kiss her. She was alive in every fiber of her body, on fire with a heat that seared him as completely as it did her. Holding her by the hips, he knelt and slid her green-and-white-striped slacks and beige silk panties down her legs.

He kissed her stomach, burying his face in her warm, soft flesh. He felt her closing off, shutting him out of her thoughts. Why had she done that? he wondered.

She had to keep her secret. Sam's child was nestled there inside her, in her womb, safe and secure. But now was not the time to share her happy news with him. There would be time enough when Maynard Reeves was no longer a part of their lives.

She pushed the thoughts of their child deep into her heart, closing them off from her conscious thoughts. Threading her fingers through Sam's hair, she moaned as he delved his fingers deeply into her body.

She gripped his shoulders, urging him to stand. He kissed her intimately. She shuddered. Sam rose, lifted her off her feet and carried her into the rose arbor. A lush bed of grass and moss beckoned him. Placing her on the ground, he lay down beside her and pulled her on top of him. She stared down into searing blue-gray eyes and had no doubt what joy awaited the two of them. Holding her hips, petting her buttocks with his fingertips, Sam eased her down onto him, entering her with a forceful thrust.

Jeannie cried out with the pleasure of their joining, lowering her head to reach his lips. She plunged her tongue into his mouth; he reciprocated with equal fervor. They devoured each other as he stroked her back and buttocks. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she pushed herself upward until her breasts hung over his mouth, a luscious temptation.

She set the pace, moving with restless need, her own desire so strong she didn't know whether she could handle his, as well as hers. When he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily, the first warning of release clenched her sex. While his mouth toyed with one breast, he lifted his hand to cup the other, then pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Fulfillment claimed her, rocking her to the core. Sam caught her cries in his mouth as her release rippled through him.

He changed the pace of their lovemaking, increasing the tempo, deepening his thrusts. He was on the verge, and so was she. Together they splintered into shards of unequaled ecstasy, Jeannie sharing his pleasure as he shared hers. Panting heavily, their bodies dripping with perspiration, Sam rolled over onto his side, holding her in his arms, kissing her again and again.

"I love you, Sam. I love you with all my heart."

"Ah, Jeannie … Jeannie … my sweet angel."

Chapter 15

« ^ »

Sam moaned with pleasure. Jeannie smiled at him as she slowly pulled the fork out of his mouth. He chewed the scrumptious bite of blueberry pancake dripping in syrup that she had fed him. They gazed into each other's eyes, silently conveying words of erotic intent as they remembered their night of passionate loving.

Looking at him sitting there in nothing but his slacks, his broad chest bare, Jeannie sighed as her body recalled Sam Dundee's savage possession.

He grinned, enjoying the sight of her, her flawless skin, soft peach lips and warm brown eyes. Tendrils of sun-streaked brown hair curled about her forehead and ears. His body hardened when he thought about her being naked beneath her robe.

Turning his fork sideways, Sam sliced off a piece of his pancake, speared it and lifted it toward Jeannie's mouth. With her gaze focused on Sam, she parted her lips. He slid the morsel into her mouth, watching while she chewed. Laying his fork on his plate, Sam reached across the table and, using the tip of his finger, wiped a trickle of syrup from the corner of Jeannie's mouth. Inclining her head, she captured Sam's finger between her lips and licked off the syrup.

Groaning deep in his throat, he jerked his finger out of her mouth. He knocked over his chair as he stood quickly, then rounded the table and lifted a laughing Jeannie out of her chair. Shoving her breakfast plate, cup and silverware across the table with the back of his hand, he set her on the edge of the table, opened her silk robe and parted her thighs. In one swift motion, he unzipped his slacks and discarded them.

She gripped his shoulders. He took her mouth at the exact same moment he lifted her hips and plunged into her. The joining was instant, jolting both of them with its power. As their bodies united, their hearts and minds entwined, each experiencing the pure ecstasy of their combined loving.

When they reached fever pitch, Sam groaned hot, shameless words to her, and she responded by abandoning herself to the sheer, pulse-pounding glory of their simultaneous twofold release.

She clung to him in the aftermath, kissing his shoulder as he lifted her and carried her to the bathroom. He drew her a bubble bath and slid her into the tub, then tossed her a washcloth.

"I'll clean up in the kitchen while you take your bath." He kissed her on the tip of her nose.

The telephone rang. Jeannie tensed. Sam winked at her, the action meant to reassure her that all was well. He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.

She eased back, resting her head against the tiled wall. They'd been back in Biloxi five days. Julian was definitely on the road to recovery and would probably be coming home in a couple of days. Despite the possibility of a storm brewing in the Atlantic, heading toward the Caribbean, she hadn't given up her hope that Sam and she could take Julian back to Le Bijou Bleu to fully recuperate.

But she couldn't hide away on the island forever, and Sam had a life in Atlanta. Sooner or later, he would have to leave.

Although no doctor had confirmed her pregnancy and she hadn't bothered with a home test kit, Jeannie knew she was carrying Sam's child. She had been able to link with the baby and experience the first stages of her daughter's existence. She was almost four weeks pregnant now, and she still hadn't told Sam. How could she add to his burden of worry? He would want this child, and he would be even more protective and possessive if he knew. Until the situation with Maynard Reeves was settled, she would wait, keeping her precious secret in the deepest, most private part of her heart.

Sam opened the door, walked in and handed her the portable phone. "It's Marta. She sounds a little odd, but she says everything's all right. She needs to talk to you about one of the students."

Jeannie took the phone in her hand, then waved goodbye to Sam as he went back into the bedroom. "Hello, Marta."

"Jeannie, please don't let Mr. Dundee know what I'm saying to you."

"All right." Jeannie sensed Marta's fear. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

"When Danette Suddath brought Missy to school this morning, two other women came with her." Marta swallowed. "We allowed her free access, just as you'd instructed."

"Are you alone in your office?" Jeannie asked, realizing that something was terribly wrong.

"Yes. They've allowed me to come in here alone. But Jeannie… Oh, dear God, they have guns! They're holding the children hostage."

Jeannie heard Marta sobbing. "What do you mean, they're holding the children hostage?"

"During our before-school free time in the cafeteria, Danette Suddath and these two other women pulled their guns, each one gabbed a child, and they're holding the whole school hostage."

"What do they want?" Jeannie asked, but she knew. She glanced at the partially open door, wondering if Sam had gone back into the kitchen.

"They want you, Jeannie," Marta said. "They're all members of the Righteous Light Church. Danette told me that—that they won't hurt any of the children, if you'll come down to the school."

"Call the police, Marta. Tell them what's happened. Sam and I will be there as soon as possible."

"No! I can't call the police, and Sam Dundee must not come here. They said if I called the police or if Mr. Dundee comes with you, they'll start sacrificing the children. That's the exact word Danette used. Sacrificing."

"They want me to come alone?" Jeannie's mind splintered into a dozen different thoughts, the prime one being the question of how she would ever escape from Sam.

"I don't know what to do, Jeannie. If you come down here, they'll turn you over to Maynard Reeves." Marta's voice quavered more with each word she spoke. "I think they're expecting him to come here and get you."

"I understand. I'll find a way to get there. Alone. We can't allow any harm to come to those precious children in our charge."

"There must be some other way," Marta said. "If only—"

"Everything will be all right," Jeannie said. "I'll do what I have to do."

Jeannie punched the Off button and laid the telephone down on the bath mat beside the tub. Closing her eyes, she said a quiet prayer, allowing her mind to relax and her nerves to calm. She would have to lie to Sam, and she would have to trick him. She hated doing it, but she had no choice. The lives of forty-five children were at stake. Innocent, helpless children with physical and mental limitations that made them even more special to Jeannie. She knew so well the pain these children endured, especially their emotional suffering.

"Sam! Sam, I'm ready to get out of the tub now."

Within a minute, Sam was at her side, lifting her out of the tub and drying her with a large, fluffy towel. She wrapped her arm around his neck.

"Why don't you go ahead and enjoy my bubble bath? It's still warm," she said.

"I haven't finished up in the kitchen." He carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the edge of the bed.

"After I get dressed, I'll take care of that." She pulled him down toward her, rubbing her cheek against his. "Go on. You need a bath. You smell like … well, you smell."

Sam laughed. "I smell like you and me. I smell like sex."

"Yes, you do. You smell like sex."

"Need any help getting dressed?" he asked.

"You're better at helping me undress." She shoved him away from her. "Now go get your bath. I can dress myself and finish cleaning up the kitchen without your help."

"Your wish is my command." He stripped out of his slacks, which he'd put on again when he returned to the kitchen.

Jeannie watched while he walked to the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway, turned and smiled at her. When he closed the door, she lifted her cane from its resting place against the nightstand and hurried to the closet. She dressed as quickly as she could, dug the keys to her Lexus from her purse and walked out of the bedroom.

Easing the front door closed, she breathed a sigh of relief when it made only a faint clicking sound. She slid behind the wheel, started the engine and backed out of the driveway, holding her breath all the while.

"Please, forgive me, Sam. I have no other choice." She whispered the words aloud, knowing that Sam had already sensed that something wasn't quite right.

When she pulled out into the street, she glanced in her rear-view mirror. Sam Dundee ran into the yard, a towel draped around his hips. He screamed her name.

Tears blurred Jeannie's vision as she pressed the accelerator. The Lexus flew down the street and out of Sam's sight.

* * *

Children's whimpers and muted cries drifted down the hallway. Jeannie gripped her cane as she walked along the empty corridor. She hesitated at the closed cafeteria doors, uncertain what she would find once she entered, but knowing she was willing to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to save the children.

She flung open the double doors and stepped inside, halting immediately. The children had been divided into three groups. The groups huddled on the floor in three corners of the cafeteria, each group guarded by a woman with a gun. Danette Suddath held her own daughter in front of her as a shield as she brandished a semiautomatic weapon.

"Hi, Jeannie." Missy Suddath smiled, her round face wrinkling in pleasure lines when she saw Jeannie. "My mama's playing a game with us. It's like cops and robbers. Did you come to play with us?"

"Yes, Missy, I came to play with you." Jeannie clenched her teeth, willing herself to stay calm and unemotional for the sake of the children.

"Come on in, Jeannie Alverson!" Danette shouted. "Your days of evil are about to end."

"Suffer not a witch to live!" A plump middle-aged woman with long, straight salt-and-pepper hair tightened her hold on little seven-year-old Amelia Carson, who'd been born marginally retarded. Clasping a small-caliber gun in her hand, she laid it across Amelia's chest.

"I've followed your instructions," Jeannie said. "I've come alone, without the police or Sam Dundee. You have what you want. Please release the children."

"Such concern for these little ones." The baritone voice came from a tall, slender woman who held the third group of children in the far right corner. She lifted six-year-old Justin Walker, blind since birth, up on her hip. Justin screamed. The woman placed her hand, which held a gun, over the little boy's mouth.

Jeannie sucked in a deep breath. "Please, put him down. You're frightening him."

"Hush now, child," the tall woman, who was wearing a frumpy floral-print dress, said. "If Jeannie loves you, really loves you, none of you will need to be sacrificed."

Jeannie couldn't bear the thought of a child being harmed because of her. How could these women threaten the children, when they claimed to be believers in a religion of love and compassion?

"I'll leave with you," Jeannie said. "I'll go with you to Maynard Reeves without protest."

All the teachers had been lined up against the wall on the far side of the cafeteria. Jeannie looked at them, one at a time, hoping to convey hope and love. Marta McCorkle was conspicuously absent.

"Where's Marta?" Jeannie asked.

"Ms. McCorkle is in her office," Danette Suddath said. "She's there to answer the phone and make sure the outside world thinks everything is normal here at the Howell School."

Jeannie sighed with relief. For one split second, she had feared for Marta's life. "My car is outside. The keys are in the ignition. We can walk out of here, and you can take me to Reverend Reeves. Right now."

"We won't need your car," Danette said, forcing her daughter to walk around her classmates sitting on the floor. "Our plans are already made."

"All right." Jeannie walked into the room, slowly moving toward Danette. "I'm prepared to go with you, on your terms."

Missy Suddath took a step toward Jeannie. "Are you a bad guy?" the child asked. "They're calling you ugly names. I don't like you playing bad, Jeannie."

"I'm not really bad. Remember, this is just a game." Jeannie reached out her hand to Missy.

"No! Don't touch her!" Danette jerked her daughter close to her side, the gun she held resting over the child's body. "I won't have you contaminate her with your evil."

"Danette, surely you know I'd never do anything to harm Missy," Jeannie said. "She's been attending the Howell School for four years, and she's made excellent progress. All of us here love her."

"Enough talk." The tall, deep-voiced woman marched around her charges. Justin shivered in the big woman's arms, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed.

"Justin, don't be afraid," Jeannie said. "I'm here in the room with you."

"I don't like this game," Justin said, choking back his tears. "I don't wanna play anymore."

The woman holding Amelia walked toward Jeannie. "The game will end soon," she said. "As long as Jeannie does exactly as she's told."

"What do you want me to do?" Jeannie asked.

"You'll come with us. My friends and I will walk out of the school to the parking area, where our cars are waiting." The woman in the floral-print dress secured her hold on Justin and lifted her gun to the child's head.

Jeannie was thankful Justin couldn't see, that he really didn't understand what was happening. "Yes, I'll come with you. Just put Justin down, and don't harm any of the children."

The tall woman grinned. Jeannie gasped, suddenly realizing that the person holding Justin was a man disguised as a woman. Maynard Reeves!

His grin widened when he looked directly into Jeannie's eyes. She knew he was aware that she'd recognized him.

"Danette will take her daughter with her," Reeves said. "I'll take Justin. Nora will take the little girl with the blond pigtails. And we'll need five or six more children as escorts. All of us will walk out of here together."

"There's no need to take the children. You don't want them," Jeannie said. "I'm the one you want."

"Ah, but there is a need to take the children, at least until we reach our cars. I wouldn't want you changing your mind, or any of your employees in here deciding to call the police."

"You'll let the children go as soon as we get outside?"

"All except Missy and Justin," Reeves said. "They'll go with us. Once I make sure we haven't been followed, I'll release Justin, somewhere you can be certain he'll be safe."

"Don't do this. Please. No one has called the police, and Sam Dundee has no idea where I am."

"I tend to believe you. However, I'm not a person who takes chances." Reeves waved his gun in the air, then pointed it to the door leading to the hallway. "Shall we go?"

Jeannie watched, feeling totally helpless, as Danette and the plump middle-aged woman gathered up six children, instructing them to form a single line beside Reeves. Confused and crying, the children ran to Jeannie, completely ignoring Danette's directions. Kneeling, Jeannie touched each child, placing them in a circle around her. They reached out, laying their hands on her. She absorbed their fear and frustration, and within minutes all six children had quieted.

"Look at the witch's power!" Reeves bellowed, storming across the few feet that separated him from Jeannie. "She controls the minds of the innocent!"

He set Justin on his feet, then pulled the six children away from Jeannie. She reached for her cane, grabbing it up off the floor just as Reeves dragged her to her feet.