He would surely be damned. He deserved to be. Because even now, knowing that she was chaste, he was hard and hot with the desire to be inside her. He wanted to touch her again. But not in the same way. He didn’t want to subject her to his caresses. He wanted to treat her to them. He didn’t want her humiliated and tearful beneath his hands. He didn’t want her still and unmoving with defiance and disgust. He wanted her responsive and receptive, moaning with pleasure.
God, what was the matter with him? His thoughts were no purer than those the guerrilla fighter had no doubt been thinking. He didn’t want to consider himself on that low a level, but apparently that’s where he belonged. He was going to hell for what he was thinking, but he couldn’t for the life of him stop thinking it.
He had been without a woman too long, that’s all. But he’d been without women for long stretches of time before and had survived. He hadn’t ever been consumed with the thought of having a woman as he was now. And his desires had been focused on the female sex in general, not a single member of that group.
Never before had he been unable to concentrate on anything except his feverish, thick, aching sex, which embarrassingly strained the front of his pants at inconvenient and unexpected times, like when Kerry had turned to him with a cup of water between her hands—giving him a drink before taking one herself, bearing it like a peace offering, proffering it with a silent thank-you in her deep blue eyes.
He was angry with himself for seeing her as a desirable woman and not as what she was. His anger sought an outlet. There was no dog to kick, no missed nailhead to curse. His only scapegoat proved to be the woman who was responsible for making him act and think like a goddamned fool.
“They’re all asleep,” Kerry said softly as she moved toward the window.
Linc was sitting on the sill, one knee raised to ease the pressure in his groin. Kerry seemed oblivious to his black mood, oblivious to everything but the unspoiled beauty of the night. She drew a deep breath, u
naware that it made her breasts lift and swell and push against her shirt until their shape was emphasized for the man who couldn’t keep his eyes off them to save his soul.
“Why didn’t you tell him right away that you were a nun?”
She looked at him quizzically, surprised by the harsh question.
“I didn’t think it would do any good.”
“It might have.”
“It might have also turned his attention to one of the girls.”
Unspeakably vile things like that happened in time of war. Men would do things they ordinarily would find abhorrent. Linc couldn’t argue the point with her. He knew she was right. But an inner demon was compelling him to hurt her, to make her suffer as he was suffering.
“I just don’t get you, lady. You make out like a saint, but you seem to enjoy using that body and face of yours to drive a man crazy. I ought to know.”
He slid from the windowsill and loomed over her. “Is that how you religious types get your kicks? Is that part of the convent training? Flirting, but never coming across? Promising, but never fulfilling?”
“That’s disgusting, even coming from someone as low as you. I became an unwilling pawn between you and that ape in a stupid masculine contest of wills. I stood up to him, which apparently earned his respect. Then I begged him to keep you alive.”
What she said had merit, making him all the madder. “Don’t do me any more favors, okay? Or were you enjoying the attention so much it didn’t even seem like a favor?”
“I put up with his lewd flirtation because I had to. Just as I did with you.”
“And both times you sacrificed yourself for the children’s sake,” he sneered.
“Yes!”
“That’s a hoot.”
“I’m not surprised you don’t understand. You’ve never thought of anybody but yourself. You’ve never loved anybody but Lincoln O’Neal.”
His hands shot out, grabbed her by the shoulders, and jerked her up against him.
Joe instantly materialized out of the darkness. His liquid eyes glittered in the moonlight. They were murderously focused on Linc.
Linc cursed, released Kerry, and turned away. He was angrier at himself than at either of them. He was the one behaving like a madman. “I’m going to take a look around. Stay here.” He stalked out, wielding his machete as though he would welcome something to slash into.
Kerry watched his tall shadow blend into the others on the far side of the yard. Joe worriedly whispered her name. She laid a reassuring hand on his arm and smiled halfheartedly. “I’m all right, Joe. Don’t worry about Senor O’Neal. He’s just edgy.”
The boy didn’t look convinced. Kerry wasn’t convinced herself. It was a mystery to her why Linc was so angry. Why did their conversation always end in a shouting match? They swapped nasty insults like petulant children. The horrible episode with the guerrillas should have drawn them closer together, created a bond, instead it had wedged them further apart. In a very real sense they had saved each other’s life today, yet to hear them, one would think they were bitter adversaries. Her feelings toward him were ambivalent. She needed time and space to think them through.
“I’m going to take a walk outside, Joe.”
“But he said to stay here.”