kitchen.
'Coffee is nearly ready,' Ollie said. 'Dr. Howell will be home soon, and when he finds out what happened tonight, he's going to be terribly upset.'
Jeannie sat down at the kitchen table. 'There's no need to worry Julian about this until tomorrow.' She looked up at Sam. 'Maynard Reeves is going to try to kill me, isn't he?'
Sam knelt down in front of Jeannie. Taking her face in his hands, he looked her directly in the eye. 'The truth?' he asked.
'Between us, always,' she said.
'Since you refused to join his ministry, Reeves has convinced himself that your empathic powers came from the devil. He sees it as his duty to destroy the evil, and the only way he can do that is to kill you.'
Jeannie gasped several times, repeatedly sucking in gulps of air. Sam put his arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, accepting his comforting caress.
'I won't let him succeed, Jeannie. I promise. I'll keep you safe. I'll guard you with my life.'
Jeannie closed her eyes. One tear caught in her eyelashes, another trickled slowly down her cheek. Unconsciously she began absorbing the rage inside Sam. The hatred and anger centered on Maynard Reeves, but spread out in tiny waves toward anyone who meant Jeannie harm.
Sam was prepared to kill to protect her. Jeannie had never felt that type of hatred. Not even when she longed to be free from her stepfather's cruelty had she wished him dead. Jeannie wasn't sure she was capable of killing, even to defend her own life. There was a gentleness in her soul that longed to ease pain and suffering, to eliminate hatred and fear. Could she ever understand the barbaric ability to kill?
Safe in Sam's arms, the cruelties of the world far away, Jeannie delved into her soul, into that minuscule spot where a fragment of Sam's soul remained from their joining six years ago. Such a fragile link, one she knew Sam would sever if he was aware of its existence.
He kissed the side of her face, his lips brushing it tenderly, as he stroked her shoulders and back, soothing her with his touch.
In an instantaneous flash that left her as quickly as it had come, Jeannie knew exactly what Sam was. Sam Dundee, her protector, was a unique creature. He was an elegant savage, a compassionate warrior, and only if she was strong enough to become his equal could they ever truly be united.
« ^ »
'No. Absolutely not.' Crossing his arms over his chest, Sam Dundee gave Jeannie his killer glare, the look that had made many a formidable opponent quake in his boots.
'Yes! Definitely yes.' Jeannie didn't glance up from the task at hand, transferring the contents of her shoulder bag to a beige leather purse.
'It's out of the question.' What would it take to get through to this woman? Didn't she realize that every time she went out in public, she was exposing herself to danger?
'I have not missed church in years. I'm not asking to attend the regular service the way I usually do. All I'm asking is for you to take me to the early-morning prayer service. There won't be many people at church.' Jeannie snapped her purse shut, then smiled at Sam. 'Now, I'm ready to go whenever you are.'
'I'm not ready.'
Jeannie surveyed him from head to toe, leisurely inspecting every inch of his massive body. She drew in a deep breath. Shivers of remembrance rippled through her, memories of a kiss that had rocked the very foundation of her life, memories of being held lovingly, protectively, in those enormous arms.
Sam was devastatingly handsome, and the very picture of a successful businessman in his navy blue double- breasted suit, a gold Rolex his only piece of jewelry.
Any other man Sam's size would look like a muscle-bound gorilla in a suit, but not Sam Dundee. His tailored clothes fit him to perfection, his thick blond hair styled by an expert and his massive hands recently manicured. He possessed an air of unpretentious sophistication, one Jeannie felt certain he had cultivated over the years.
But inside the expensive clothes lay the finely honed body of an athlete. Beneath the polished exterior beat the heart of a primitive male. Chip away his refined facade and you'd find brute strength. Sam Dundee had the soul of a warrior.
'Like what you see?' His mouth curved into a smirk. 'Thinking about staking a claim?'
Jeannie willed herself not to blush at his comment. He'd caught her shamelessly assessing his physical attributes. 'Actually, I was noticing that you look like you're ready to go to church.'
'I advise you not to attend services today.'
'I'm going to church,' Jeannie said. 'Are you going with me, or do I have to go by myself?'
'Doesn't Dr. Howell go to church?'
'Julian is a Catholic. He's going to Mass with Marta before they go out for lunch.'
'You're damned and determined to do this, aren't you?' Sam shook his head, frustration boiling inside him, threatening to overflow. He wanted to make Jeannie stay at home, where he knew he could keep her safe and protect her from a threatening world.
'I've looked outside the house, and there's not one reporter or protester in sight.' Clutching her purse in her hand, Jeannie laced her arm around Sam's. 'And I don't think we have to worry about Reverend Reeves today. After all, this is Sunday, and he'll be preaching to his Righteous Light brethren.'
Accepting defeat, Sam eased his arm around Jeannie's waist. 'Yeah, he's probably firing them up with a sermon on witches. No doubt quoting from the Old Testament.'
'Exodus,' Jeannie said, knowing she would never be able to forget the Bible verse marked in blood, blood she prayed the police lab would find to be animal and not human. 'You're right, of course, Sam. Just because I'll be safe from Maynard Reeves at my church, that doesn't mean he isn't inciting his followers to condemn me as a witch.'
Sam tightened his hold around Jeannie's waist, wanting to pick her up in his arms, carry her upstairs and lock her away from the evil she could not escape in the outside world.
Jeannie walked slowly, carefully, always aware of her limited abilities to maneuver and her dependency on her cane.
Sam adjusted his gait to Jeannie's step-by-step movements. His gut twisted into knots as he watched her struggle with the simple task of walking. It would be so easy for him to carry her to the car and then carry her into the church when they arrived. But Jeannie would never allow it. She was fiercely, stubbornly proud. Sam marveled at her strength and determination.
The late-August morning held a hint of autumn, especially in the refreshingly cool breeze blowing in off the Gulf waters. The sun's early warmth blended with the wind, creating perfect weather.
Sam seated Jeannie on the passenger side of her Lexus. She had insisted he dismiss the limousine, telling him she felt uncomfortable riding in the big gray Cadillac.
He reached for the shoulder harness at the exact moment Jeannie did. Jerking her head up, she looked into his eyes, and he knew she saw clearly what he was thinking. His hand covered hers; she didn't pull away. With quick precision, he snapped her seat belt in place, stood up straight and closed the door. Jeannie's gaze focused on her clasped hands, placed atop the purse in her lap. Sam got in on the driver's side, fastened his safety belt and started the engine.
Jeannie knew that he would never be able to touch her again without wondering if she was experiencing his emotions, feeling what he felt. Friday night, the moment he realized she had gotten inside him, that she had become a part of him, he had withdrawn from her. Was he so afraid to share himself, to open himself up to another person, even someone who cared for him?
Jeannie sat silent and unmoving, aware that Sam opposed this short trip down Beach Boulevard to the small Congregational church where she'd been a member for a dozen years. Although Julian was Catholic, his wife Miriam had been a Protestant who attended one of the oldest congregations in Mississippi, and she had taken Jeannie to services with her.
Sam headed the Lexus east, up Beach Boulevard, occasionally glancing at Jeannie, who seemed spellbound by the view of the Gulf through her side window. Why did his throat tighten and his heart pound every time he looked at her? He'd known women more beautiful, women more voluptuous. And he'd certainly known women more
