TWICE A HERO By Susan Krinard

“You owe me the truth. Spit it out, Mac, and I’ll let you go home.”

She fought it. Her body went rigid under his hands, tensed to reject him, and he wondered if Perry had been wrong. She would refuse to answer, simply to deny him one last victory in their endless battle.

But at last she sagged in his arms. “You stupid Irishman,” she said hoarsely, “I think I’ve loved you from the first moment Homer gave me that blasted photograph. Now are you satisfied?”

Liam felt his muscles turn as watery as jungle mud. It was all he could do to keep them both on their feet, but he turned her to face him.

“You little witch. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She was crying, though she tried not to let him see. Her breathing was ragged, laced with little hiccups. “You made it abundantly evident that you didn’t want any more to do with me. You said you were leaving—”

“You’re right.” His quiet agreement brought her up short, made her freeze again in preparation for his worst. “I thought it would cure me if I went away. But it didn’t. And then when Perry told me you’d left me, I went a little mad. I scared Perry out of his wits. He deserved it, the blackguard.”

He grinned, but Mac was in no mood for levity. She slipped free, her expression still and wary.

Liam kicked the ground with the toe of his boot. “Ah, to the devil with it. I guess you won’t be satisfied until I give you the words. Just like any woman.” He gazed into her eyes. “I love you, Rose—MacKenzie—whatever the hell you want to call yourself. I may not be much good at it, and I may be all the things you said, but nothing can change that. Not even your history and your future and all your time travel. I love you.”

There. By the saints, it was done, and it hadn’t even killed him. But she only stared, lips parted.

“Why?”

“Why? Isn’t that just like a woman.” He found himself as tongue-tied as a schoolboy. There was only one way to answer her. “I see you need more proof, darlin’.”

And he proceeded to give that proof, pulling her close, kissing her for everything he was worth, until she wasn’t stiff in his arms but soft and flowing against him, her arms locked at his waist, her lips urgent under his. Giving and taking equally.

“Satisfied?” he asked when they were finished, kissing her hair and temple and chin.

“I guess I’ll have to be,” she sniffled. “For now.”

“That has an ominous ring to it.” He pulled her down beside him on a convenient block of stone and held her close, stroking her cropped hair and taking in the clean, healthy scent of her. No perfumes or pretensions. Not his Mac. She was just the way he wanted her.

She curled up to his chest, her head against his heart. “This doesn’t feel quite real,” she said.

“I can’t say I blame you. I was a fool.” He lifted her chin on his fist. “You scared the devil out of me. You were too bloody competent. You didn’t need me. And on those rare occasions that you did, I wasn’t able to protect you.”

“Liam—”

“Hear me out. It’s hard enough saying it as it is.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I think I already loved you the first time I met you, here in the jungle. Maybe it happened when you slugged me down by the lake—”

She chuckled. “I did make your life a living hell, didn’t I?”

“And after Chinatown,” he said softly, “I knew I wasn’t worthy of you. You’d seen the worst in me. You said you’d done everything to save history and the Sinclairs—”

She jerked up. “It wasn’t only that—”

“I know.” He pulled her back down. “But you ran before I came to my senses, and if Perry hadn’t told me I’d have never found you before—” His voice was in deep danger of turning wobbly, so he shut his mouth. Mac was gazing at him with such warmth that he wondered if he could ever speak again.

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