Page 71 of Dangerous Passion

Grace loved him.

He’d never been loved. He’d been hated and feared and envied, even admired, but never loved.

Grace loved him.

He would never grow tired of that thought.

He could leave behind the wealth and the power because they had started to weigh heavily on him, like a huge burden he’d carried for far too long. He’d never thought to put down his shield and sword, but life had handed him exactly that opportunity.

Not that he intended relaxing his vigilance, particularly with Grace to protect. But violence and power would no longer define his life. They would simply be the means to protect his life. His life with Grace.

He was so taken with the idea that he wasn’t even pursuing the traitor in his midst. Soon, he and Grace would be gone. Whoever had betrayed him would end up with ashes.

A light knock on the door and he smiled. His heart rate actually picked up. Drake’s heartbeat stayed as steady as his hands, no matter what. Cornered, under fire, surrounded by enemies, he kept his cool. Grace changed all that.

“Enter,” he called to his new love.

He would get over this stage. Probably. Maybe. But while he was in it, it was a delight. To be so attuned to anotherhuman being you could feel her thoughts, to be uppermost in her mind, tomatter… these were all such rare joys, it was as if he’d been visited by a unicorn.

No, not a unicorn, even better.

Grace. That she loved him seemed like such a miracle. And yet he recognized in her the same deep loneliness that afflicted his own life. How men could stay away from such a gentle beauty was a stone-cold mystery to him, and yet no one knew better than Drake how irredeemably stupid and dull-witted most men were. Grace was indeed a rare beauty, but she seemed to have been born without the heavy armor most beautiful women are born with. She was open, vulnerable, incapable of playing games.

It was what endeared her to him, but he understood full well what it made her. Prey.

Well, she was no longer prey, and never would be again. She would be fiercely protected by him, for the rest of their lives.

A fall of shiny bronze hair, long white fingers clutching the edge of the door and half a face peeking in.

“Drake?” she said softly. “It’s early, I know. I thought I’d go wait in the living room for this man.” She walked over to his desk.

“Good idea,” he said. “While you’re there, open a bottle of wine and pour three glasses. I’ll be right there.”

She gave a slight smile as she walked toward him. “So I guess we’re starting our new life right now, huh?”

God, that sounded good. “Yes, duschka,” he replied softly, reaching up to stroke her cheek. She rubbed her face into his hand. He loved the way she reacted every time he touched her, his touch pleasing to her. “It starts now. In the living room.”

Someone entered the living room.

Rutskoi had been in a constant state of alert, but now adrenaline rushed through his body, heightening his senses even more. He loved this. He was born for this.

It was time. He felt it in every cell of his body. It was happeningnow.

The fiery red, gold and green figure walking into the room was slender, narrow-shouldered, with shoulder length hair. The woman.

His trigger finger loosened slightly.

Rutskoi breathed evenly, in and out, letting the adrenalin settle throughout his body. Enough to sharpen him, not enough to make his hands tremble.

Perfect.

The woman walked to the center of the room and picked something up … it was hard to tell what she was doing as her back was turned. Ah. It looked like she had opened a bottle of wine and was pouring. Knowing Drake, the bottle was undoubtedly excellent, rare and expensive.

He’d never live to drink it.

The woman’s head turned and she walked to the door. Rutskoi tracked her through his thermal scope. A man walked into the room. Not overly tall but with immensely broad shoulders. Drake.

The woman was kissing him.

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