The Secret Soldier

Chapter 3

Sabine’s pulse jumped faster when Rudy stepped fully dressed into the shower. He leaned down and put his hands under her arms, lifting her easily. She didn’t want to see in his eyes the purely instinctual male response to holding a naked woman, so she stood there staring at his broad chest, where her hands were spread.

Anchoring her around her waist, he reached for a small container of shampoo and put some on her head. Sabine wearily lifted her hands and began to wash her hair. Her breath came harder with the effort, but it felt so delicious she closed her eyes and let her head fall back a bit, bringing it more under the spray. She tried not to think about Rudy watching her.

His wet T-shirt heightened her awareness of her body against him. Hard muscle compressed her soft breasts. After she rinsed her hair, he reached behind her and retrieved a bar of soap. Readjusting his hold to support her with one of his powerful arms, he began to wash her back. It felt too good to stop him. She let her head fall to his wet T-shirt-covered chest.

“Turn around.”

He sounded raspy. Sabine lifted her head and found her eyes trapped by his unreadable ones. She moved her legs but wouldn’t have been able to turn on her own without falling. Now with her back against him, she took the bar of soap and moved it over her skin. She lost herself to the pleasure of feeling clean again. When she finished, she was shaking and short of breath.

Shutting off the water, Rudy lifted her dripping wet in his arms. Sabine pulled a towel from a rack above the toilet when he stopped there and held it to her body as he carried her out of the bathroom. In the other room, he sat in the chair and draped her legs over his. Sabine dried herself on his lap.

“Lean forward,” he said, taking the towel from her.

She did and froze. Beneath her, a hard ridge told her just how much the shower had affected him. Seeming not to notice her sudden change, he wrapped her hair in the towel. Then he cradled her, stood and put her back onto the chair, by herself.

Slumping against the chair, she watched him go into the bathroom for the big T-shirt and return. His expression was stern as he gripped the shirt in his hands and pulled it over her towel-covered head. A couple of unceremonious yanks, and the top fell down over her body.

“Thank you,” she murmured, glad to be covered again.

He said nothing in response and just lifted her and took her to one of the twin beds, where he’d already pulled the covers down. Before covering her with those, he opened the rucksack and pulled out a roll of bandages and a tube of ointment.

Propped by two fluffy pillows, she shut her eyes and bit her lower lip to keep from crying out when the ointment touched the raw flesh of her shins. Her fingers gripped the sheet and blankets while he wrapped her legs. When he finished, her legs were throbbing so much her mind swam with pain and dizziness.

“I’m sorry,” Rudy said.

She couldn’t respond with more than a single nod.

He left her and went into the bathroom with the rucksack. When he returned, he was shirtless and in a pair of lounge pants. Sabine caught his profile as he passed the bed and couldn’t look away from his broad back. Hard muscles tapered to a trim, fit waist. His butt was tight and perfectly shaped. She held her breath when he leaned over the table and retrieved a bottle of water. Opening it, he faced her and sat on one of the chairs with a long sigh. Lifting the bottle of water he held, he drained half its contents. Sabine forgot the stinging pain in her legs. Smooth skin and a light covering of hair followed the rippling muscles of his chest and abdomen. He sat with his knees spread and his big body slouched lazily in the chair. It gave her a shock to notice him like this, a man with overpowering masculinity that appealed to her on a level she had never experienced.

He lowered the bottle and she stared at his big hand. His other hand lay over the opposite arm of the chair. Those hands had touched her in the shower. Heat began to stir in her. She raised her eyes. He watched her. There was something erotic in his gaze. Leashed interest. Maybe even unwanted desire.

The first shiver of something other than fear raised bumps on her arms. She was alone with him on a Greek island. What would tomorrow be like, she wondered, waking to the Aegean Sea and this mysterious man who’d saved her life?

Cullen sipped a cup of strong Greek coffee and looked out across the turquoise waters of the Aegean Sea. Of all the places to crash-land a DeHavilland, this had to be the best. Under any other circumstances, he’d have enjoyed it. He’d known this rescue would be among the most dangerous he’d ever done, and he’d taken as few men as he could to avoid risking more lives than necessary, but no one should have died. That helicopter had been waiting for them. Anger simmered close to a boil inside him. Only someone close to Noah could have leaked their plans.

He’d give Noah every resource he had to find out who and why, and whoever was responsible would pay with their lives.

Hearing a sound, he glanced at the door of the room. He couldn’t see her but knew Sabine had moved on the bed. She’d slept on and off for two days now. He’d decided to let her and had only disturbed her to make sure she drank water and ate and had clean bandages. Letting her sleep this long made him nervous, but it would be better if she could board a commercial plane without drawing too much attention. If he had to carry her, she’d attract attention.

“Hello up there,” a woman called in Dorian Greek from below the balcony.

Cullen dropped his feet from the railing and leaned forward to see her better, sending her an answering smile. It was the same woman who’d told him where to find this pension and an available room to rent. Today she wore a white embroidered dress with gold coins draped around her neck. She was a nice enough lady, but she was way too curious about him and Sabine. All it would take was an awestruck villager like her to pick up the phone and talk to the press. The thought nearly made him break into a cold sweat. All he needed was the media to catch up to them.

The woman lifted a basket. “Makarounes for you and your lady.”

He kept his smile in place as he straightened. “I’ll come down.”

He turned before she could respond and moved through the room, checking on Sabine before he left her still sleeping. He made his way to the lower level. The pension owner, Alec, looked up and smiled with a nod.

“Good morning,” Cullen said in Greek, and Alec answered in kind.

The wrinkled woman stood outside the door of the pension and smiled when he appeared in the doorway. She extended the basket, its contents wrapped in a red cloth. He took it from her.

“Thank you,” he said.

She nodded graciously. “You must bring your lady to my taverna when she is rested. We have fresh seafood every night, and it is very quiet.” Her dark eyes held a secretive glint.

The notion of having a romantic dinner with Sabine tantalized him too much for his comfort. “We just might have to take you up on that,” he said anyway.

“Alec told me about your crash, and that you were on your honeymoon. You come. Have dinner at my taverna.” She told him where it was.

Cullen said nothing. She was just an old woman swept up by the intrigue of a plane crash and the couple who’d survived it. Alec had questioned Cullen on the crashed airplane, and Cullen had come up with the quickest explanation he could think of without revealing his and Sabine’s identities. They’d come to Greece on their honeymoon and crashed before they’d reached Athens.

The woman waved and turned to go. Cullen squinted as he leaned his head out the door and caught rays of sunlight, watching her walk down the narrow street.

He wasn’t sure why being known as a newlywed bothered him. Maybe it was the shower, and Sabine’s determination to see it done. The woman had grit. She also had a body made for his hands and eyes that beckoned with green fire. She flared an instinctual response in him. The degree of his interest made him nervous. He liked his relationships comfortable, not out of control. He didn’t need that kind of intensity with a woman. His job gave him plenty of that. If he ever got married, it’d be to Mrs. Compatible and Good in Bed, not Mrs. Take My Heart and Twist It into a Pretzel of Agonizing Love. He’d seen what that could do to a man.

Back in the room, Sabine was as he’d left her, rumpled covers enveloping her, red hair tangled over the pillow. She looked very snug and content. He didn’t want to explore the other “verys” he thought she was. Knew she was, now that he’d seen her naked.

Taking the basket out to the balcony, he set it on the table. At almost eleven, it was close to lunch.

An hour passed before he heard the sound of Sabine stirring inside the room again. He listened to the toilet flush, and moments later her bare feet trudged toward the balcony. He started to rise to help her but stopped when he saw that she was moving all right on her own, limping but all right. The T-shirt fell to just above her knees, exposing the bandages he’d wrapped around her tender shins. Her legs were skinny but spectacular. He bet they’d look even better once she healed and put on some weight. Just like the rest of her.

Cullen raised his gaze to her face as she looked across the Aegean Sea. Her mouth was slightly parted and her green eyes were the brightest he’d seen them since getting her out of Afghanistan. Their whites were healthy and the green color sparkled in the Mediterranean sunlight. The swelling on her lip had gone down, and the cut on her cheek was healing, though bruises still colored her skin and would for a while. She’d used the comb he’d bought in the village. Her hair was naturally curly, but it looked like soft, woven silk and fell to the top of her breasts. Even skinny, she was an extremely beautiful woman. All Irish with smooth, pale skin and striking features. Especially her eyes.

“Where are we?” she asked without looking at him.

He was glad she hadn’t noticed his scrutiny. “A village called Olympos. The north end of Kárpathos. It’s near Crete.”

“Wow.”

Cullen had experienced a similar reaction, despite his constant vigilance for someone with a camera or a gun.

He caught her furtive glance when she became aware of him watching her. She sat and reached for one of the bottles of water on the table, careful not to look at him. He had to agree it was strange being in a place like this with someone he’d just rescued. Especially at the cost of his team, the few that he’d dared bring on this mission.

The reminder of what he’d lost punched him again. Nothing had gone according to plan. Who had betrayed their mission and why? None of the men he’d hired were married, but the pilot and medic had parents Cullen would have to face when he returned to the States. He wasn’t looking forward to that, especially since he was going to have to lie about where their sons had died.

Sabine’s reaching for the basket diverted his attention. He welcomed it and watched her.

She glanced from the basket to him in question.

“Homemade pasta with cheese and onions. A local favorite.”

“Mmm.” She parted the cloth and lifted the ceramic bowl covered with a matching lid. Next came the bread.

“They make their own bread in outdoor ovens. You can smell it every once in a while.” The appeal of this place had penetrated his vigil more than once. But then, he’d always liked Greece.

“Mmm,” she murmured again, finding a plastic fork and starting to dig into the pasta.

It disturbed him how much he liked watching her. Her vibrancy. The look in her eyes, as if everything were new to her now.

When she sighed and put the bowl back into the basket, he knew she was full. She’d eaten less than half the makarounes and bread.

“How do you feel?”

She nodded, looking at the sea. “Better.”

A moment passed with only the sound of waves washing ashore in the distance.

“I want to walk down to the ocean,” she announced.

“Now?”

She nodded with a look of pure bliss on her face. How could he deny her after what she’d been through? “Are you sure you’re up for that?” It wasn’t far, but it would take a good hike to get there.

A smile spread on her face. The transformation hit him like a fist to the gut.

Then those green eyes so full of new life met his. “I want to walk on a beach. I really do.”

Cullen struggled with the inclination to do anything she asked as long as she kept smiling like that. The feeling was a bit too strong for his liking. But a walk on the beach wouldn’t hurt. “Okay. I went down there while you were asleep. There’s a small beach down the hill from here.” Secluded and easy to watch for anyone pointing a gun, too. He could plug them off the hillside if they tried to come after them. He ignored the fleeting thought that instead of going to the beach he should get a cab so they could leave the island that afternoon.

Sabine went into the bathroom to change. While she was in there, he stuffed a pistol good for a thousand yards in the waist of his jeans, letting his short-sleeved shirt hang over to conceal it. Then he waited for her at the door. She emerged in the dark blue lounge pants and long-sleeved white henley shirt he’d brought for her. The outfit would cover her bruises. He led her down the narrow stairs to the first floor of the pension. No one was in the sitting area of the entry.

Outside, Cullen watched Sabine for signs of fatigue. She started to breathe heavier as they walked down the street. At the footpath he’d discovered yesterday, he stopped.

“It’s a steep descent.”

“I’m fine,” she said, dismissing him to gimp down the footpath on her own.

Impressed by her courage and spunk, Cullen followed. He caught himself looking at her butt as she moved down the hill and had to force his gaze elsewhere. Rocks and brush painted the hillside, ending where a sandy inlet sloped into the ocean. Gentle waves lapped the shore, the only sound to be heard other than their footsteps.

“Oh,” Sabine breathed.

He stepped down the last of the incline, and his booted feet sank into fine, white sand. She was like a painting now. Hair sailing in a slight breeze, eyes full of appreciation that might not have been as profound had she not come so close to losing her life.

She sat on the sand and removed her hiking boots and socks. Then she rolled the hem of her lounge pants to the edge of her bandages, just above her ankles. Rising, she walked to the shore and went into the water, but only far enough to get her feet wet. That salt water would hurt her raw wounds like a thousand bee stings. Cullen removed his boots and rolled his pants up to follow her.

Waves splashed against rocks and crawled over the sand. Offshore, the water was so clear it looked like pool water, glittering, translucent cerulean fading to deep sea.

“Have you ever been to Greece before?” she asked.

“Many times,” he answered. “But never here. I’ve been to Santorini and Athens.”