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deep breath and admitted, And the truth is, I never did intend to tell you my
name. When I went to your room, I had already decided that if you insisted,
I'd make one up. I never wanted anyone to know that Madeleine
Barrington had had a one-night stand. Sensing his hurt, she finally looked at
him. I'm sorry.
He met her eyes in sad acknowledgement, then gently brushed her hair off her
face. That night, I thought we had a great beginning. But maybe it was the
worst beginning we could have had.
Maybe. I don't know. Maybe it would have just happened the next time we met,
because I ...
Whenever I see you, I want...
So do I, he whispered. All the time.
He didn't move at all, and she knew he was trying to let her decide, without
pressure, what she wanted their relationship to be. And she suddenly knew that
she didn't even need to think about it.
My name, she said slowly, is Madeleine Elizabeth Barrington. I'm thirty-one
years old. I live at 74
East
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His kiss stopped the rest of her words.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They lay together inside one of the little brick buildings, listening to the
rain outside. It was coming down in sheets, and the roof leaked. They had
scrambled around wildly when the storm began, seeking an island of dryness
within the schoolhouse, laughing as cold water hit their naked bodies every
time they settled in a new corner. Now, sprawled out in the last remaining dry
area, they held each other and talked in lazy whispers. They had found a few
candles someone had left here, and they'd lit one so they could see each
other. Ransom had bought two ponchos when stocking up on supplies this
morning; they had spread one across the hard wooden floor and were using the
other as a blanket. But it was cool at night this high up, especially with the
rain, and only Ransom's body heat kept Madeleine warm enough
now.
You know, he murmured, you're so rich and I make decent money, and yet
we've only ever made love in hovels.
She smiled and burrowed closer to him. She liked hearing him say made love
and didn't wonder why.
It just sounded right. I wouldn't exactly call the Hotel Tigre a hovel.
Oh, wouldn't you, Lady Madeleine?
All right, it's a hovel. She was too content to argue.
After a moment, he said, I'm sorry about this morning.
Which particular part of this morning?
The part where I left you alone in a village I knew was dangerous.
Oh, that, she said dismissively, eyes closed.
He jostled her. Yes, that. You could have been hurt.
You stopped anything from happening.
Well, there are some fights that it's smarter to avoid. But the point is
You were angry about something or other
I was thinking about sex, he admitted wryly.
And so you
Made a stupid mistake. And risked your safety. He was silent for a long
moment before adding, as if to himself, I've got to keep my head clear.
She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down into his face. And will it
stay clear... She kissed him lightly. ...now that you know... She kissed
him again. ...that you can have me... And again.
...whenever you want me?
His answer was silent, but very satisfying.
She winced when he was done. You need a shave.
He ran a hand over his jaw. His eyes widened. I sure do. Sorry.
She stretched languidly, then lay with her cheek against his shoulder. His
fingers gently kneaded the back of her neck. She practically purred with
pleasure.
Do you have a family somewhere? she asked after a while. A mother who
worries about you?
I did have a mother, he replied. She died a long time ago.
She slid her arm around his waist, careful of his tender ribs. When?
When I was a kid.
Do you remember her well?
Kind of. He sighed and added, My dad loved her to death, I remember that.
He's never re-married.
There's just you and your dad?
And my little brother. He's a sportswriter now.
And this? she asked, fingering the old scar she had noticed the first time
they'd ever slept together. A
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patch of silvery skin on his belly. What's this from?
Oh, that. I was shot there.
Shot! She sat bolt upright and stared, appalled.
He grinned at her. It's all right. I lived.
Who shot you? How did it happen? My God, you were shot?
My very first day on active duty with the Service, he said ruefully. I set
a new record.
What happened? She resisted the hands which tried to pull her back down.
Tell me.
I joined a field office out west. The guys picked me up at the airport. But
instead of taking me straight back to the office, they took me on a call to
investigate some counterfeiters. Things went wrong, and I
didn't duck fast enough.
There was more to it than that, of course, and she forced it out of him.
Funnily enough, he liked telling her. He liked talking to her. And listening
to her. And lying quietly with her in his arms. And looking at her. And just
knowing she was near.
As the rain pattered around them, he told her things he hadn't talked about in
years, and even a few things he'd never told anybody before. He told her what
he could remember of his mother, as well as stories about his wild teenage
years including a couple of minor arrests during college that the Secret
Service never found out about. And about the chain of maturing experiences
that led to his decision to apply to the Service as a young man.
It was a mission I believed in. Not just protecting the President, which was
pretty important in itself, but also protecting his opponents. I helped keep
dissenters alive, and surely that's what the American political system is all
about challenges and choices at every free election. Candidates on the far
left and far right all had a right to be heard, and I was part of the team
that made sure they lived long enough to have their say.
And, of course, she asked why he had finally quit after nine years. The answer
was both simple and complex: burn-out.
It was all the accumulated years of a lifestyle that left no room for a life.
Changing my sleep cycle every three weeks, combining that with jet lag from
hopping across time zones all around the world on a weekly, or even daily,
basis. Years of waking up every day and wondering, What time is it? Morning
or night? What day is it? And where the hell am I?
I missed every important event in my family for years. I was home so seldom
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