The Rogue Read Online Free PDF

grabbed a low branch and began to climb.
    Susannah stood below, watching Killian's lithe progress. Everything about the man was methodical. He never stepped on a weak limb; he studied the situation thoroughly before placing each foot to push himself upward toward the nest. Yet, far from plodding, he had an easy masculine grace.
    Killian settled the robin in its nest and quickly made his way down to avoid the irate parents. Leaping the last few feet, he landed with the grace of a large cat. "Well, our good deed is done for the day," he said gruffly, dusting off his hands.
    His voice was as icy as his unrelenting features, and Susannah took another step away from him.
    Thank you for rescuing the baby. But how can such a hard, man perform such a gentle feat? What's your story, Killian? His eyes turned impatient under her inspection, and Susannah tore her gaze away from him. The man had something to hide, it seemed.
    How much more do you know about me? What did my folks tell you? Susannah felt an odd sort of shame at the thought of Killian knowing what had happened to her. Humiliation, too, coupled with anger and fear—the entire gamut of feelings she'd lived with daily since the shooting. Out of nervousness, she raised a hand to her cheek, which felt hot and flushed.
    Killian noted the hurt in Susannah's eyes as she selfconsciously brushed her cheek with her fingertips. And in that moment he saw the violence's lasting damage: loss of self-esteem. She was afraid of him, and part of him ached at the unfairness of it, but he accepted his fate bitterly. Let Susannah think him untrustworthy—dangerous. Those instincts might save her life, should her assailant show up for another try at killing her.
    "I need to wash my hands," he said brusquely, desperate to break the tension between them. He had to snap out of it. He couldn't afford to allow her to affect him—and possibly compromise his ability to protect her from a killer.
    Unexpectedly Susannah felt tears jam into her eyes. She stood there in abject surprise as they rolled down her cheeks, unbidden, seemingly tapped from some deep source within her. Why was she crying? She hadn't cried since coming out of the coma! Embarrassed that Killian was watching her, a disgruntled look on his face, Susannah raised trembling hands to her cheeks.
    Killian swayed—and caught himself. Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out and comfort Susannah. The tears, small, sun-touched crystals, streamed down her flushed cheeks. The one thing he couldn't bear was to see a woman cry. A weeping child he could handle, but somehow, when a woman cried, it was different.
    Different, and gut-wrenchingly disturbing. Meg's tears had torn him apart, her cries shredding what was left of his feelings.
    Looking down at Susannah now, Killian felt frustration and disgust at his inability to comfort her. But that edge, that distrust, had to stay in place if he was to do his job.
    Turning away abruptly, he looked around for a garden hose, for anything, really, that would give him an excuse to escape her nearness. Spying a hose leading from the side of the house, he turned on his heel and strode toward the faucet. Relief flowed through him as he put distance between them, the tightened muscles in his shoulders and back loosening. Trying to shake pangs of guilt for abandoning her, Killian leaned down and turned on the faucet. He washed his hands rapidly, then wiped them on the thighs of his jeans as he straightened.
    He glanced back toward Susannah who still stood near the garden, looking alone and unprotected. As he slowly walked back to where she stood, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "It's almost time for dinner," he said gruffly. "I'm hungry. Are you coming?"
    Susannah felt hollow inside. The tears had left her terribly vulnerable, and right now she needed human company more than usual. Killian's harsh company felt abrasive to her in her fragile emotional state, and she knew she'd have to