"Good. It's good she can talk with you about it."
"And you can't." She could feel the tension gather in him like a bruise. "Roarke, you've spoken frankly with me before. There aren't many who know the circumstances of this. There aren't many you can speak with."
"What do you want me to say? It isn't my nightmare, but hers."
"Of course it's yours. You love her."
"Yes, I love her, and I'll stand with her. I'll do whatever can be done—which is bloody little. I know talking to you from time to time can settle her mind. I'm grateful for that."
"She's concerned for you."
"She's no need to be." He could feel the anger rising into his throat, bit back on it. Felt it bleed. "Nor have you. But it was kind of you to take the time to come by."
She saw the cool dismissal on his face, a thin veil of it over the heat. She set her tea aside, smoothed the skirt of her pale blue suit. "All right. I'm sorry to have interrupted your day. I won't keep you any longer."
"Bloody hell!" He lunged to his feet. "What's the point in spilling my guts out here? What good will it do her?"
Mira sat where she was, picked up her tea again. "It might do you some."
"How?" He spun back around, frustrated fury alive on his face. "It changes nothing. Do you want to hear how I stood there and watched her suffer, watched her remember it, and feel it as if it were happening still? She was helpless and terrified and lost, and watching her, so am I. I go after what comes for me, and I make a habit of going after it first. And this ..."
"This can't be gone after, not the way you mean." How difficult for him, she thought, this man who looks like, thinks like, a warrior to stand without a lance to protect what he values most.
"It can't be changed," she added, "it can't be stopped because it's already done. So it preys on you, just as it does on her."
"Sometimes she screams in the night." He sighed. "Sometimes she only whimpers, like a small animal might when it's afraid, or in pain. And sometimes she sleeps easy. I can't go inside her dreams and kill him for her."
Professional objectivity couldn't stand against the tidal wave of his emotion, or the flood of her own. Tears gathered in her throat as she spoke. "No, you can't, but you're there when she wakes. Do you understand what a difference you've made for her? How you've given her the courage to face her past? And the compassion to accept yours."
"I know, realistically, we are what we are because of what we were, and what we've made of that. I believe in fate, in destiny, and also in giving fate a good twist of the arm when it's not going your way." When she smiled at that, he felt his shoulders relax. "I know what's done is done, but it doesn't stop me from wishing I could go back and use these on him." He balled his fists, then spread his fingers out again.
"I'd say that was a very healthy attitude."
"Would you?"
"I hope so as I often feel the same myself. I love her, too."
He looked at her, that serene face, those eyes so filled with quiet understanding. "Yes, I see you do."
"And you."
He blinked once, slowly, as if translating some foreign tongue. With a soft laugh, she got to her feet.
"The pair of you always seem so baffled and suspicious when offered free affection. You're a good man, Roarke," she said and kissed his cheek.
"Not really."
"Yes, really. I hope you'll be comfortable coming to me, speaking with me if you ever feel the need. I'll let you get back to your meetings. I'm already late for one of my own."
He walked her to the door. "Does anyone manage to resist you?"
She winked. "Not for long."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hacking through red tape with the finesse and subtlety of a chainsaw, Eve tracked down the private shuttle Julianna hired for her trip to and from Denver. Diamond Express advertised itself as the fastest and most luxurious private charter company servicing the continental U.S.
A quick check showed her there was little truth in advertising as they were a solid third in the ratings, behind two of Roarke's companies.