Free The Rogue by Lindsay McKenna Page B

longings.
    The sketch of the man took shape beneath Susannah's slender fingers over the next hour. Frequently she struggled, erasing and beginning again. Killian marveled at her skill as an artist. She might consider herself rusty, but she was definitely a professional.
    Finally her mouth quirked and she glanced up. Slowly she turned the sketch toward him.
    "Unsavory-looking bastard," Killian whispered as he put the coffee aside and held the sketch up to examine it. "Brown eyes, blond hair and crooked front teeth?"
    Susannah nodded. She saw the change in Killian's assessing blue eyes. A fierce anger emanated from him, and she sensed his hatred of her attacker.

    He reminds me of a weasel, with close-set eyes that are small and beady-looking.

    Killian nodded and put the sketch aside. "I'll take this to the police department today. I called Morgan. He knows you've remembered what your attacker looked like, so he's anxious to get this, too. He'll know what to do with it. If this bastard has a police record, we'll be on the way to catching him."
    Chilled, Susannah slowly rubbed her arms with her hands.
    Killian felt her raw fear. But he stopped himself from reaching out to give her a touch of reassurance. Gathering up the sketch, he rose. "I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you stay alert."
    The warning made another chill move through her as she looked up at him. Somehow, some of the tension around him was gone. The peace that naturally inhabited the farmhouse had always worked wonders on her own nervousness, and Susannah realized that it might be doing the same for him. She nodded in agreement to his orders.
    "It would be best if you went down to your parents' house while I'm gone. They know the truth now, and they'll be more watchful for you. In the long run, it's best this way."
    Susannah couldn't disagree with him. The more people who were on guard and watchful, the less chance of the killer's finding her. Rising, she left with him.
    "Maybe," Killian told her as they walked across the top of the hill, "this will be over soon."
    At his words, Susannah's eyes sparkled with such fierce hope, combined with gratitude, that Killian had to force himself to keep from reaching out to caress her flushed cheek.
    He'd give his life for her, if necessary, he realized suddenly. Susannah was worth dying for.

Chapter Four

    Susannah was helping her mother can ripe figs in the kitchen when she saw Killian return from Glen. She stood at the counter and watched him emerge from the four-wheel-drive Land Cruiser. The vehicle seeming fitting for a man like Killian, she thought, a man who was rugged, a loner, iconoclastic. Though his face remained emotionless, his roving blue gaze held her, made her feel an inherent safety as he looked around the property. Her heart took a skipping beat as he turned and headed into the house.
    "Killian's home," Pansy said. She shook her head as she transferred the recently boiled figs to the jars awaiting on the counter. "I'm so nervous now." With a little laugh, she noted, "My hands haven't stopped shaking since he told us the truth this morning."
    Wanting somehow to reassure her, Susannah put her arms around her mother and gave her a hug.
    Killian walked into the kitchen and saw Susannah embracing her mother. He halted, a strange, twisting feeling moving through him. Mother and daughter held each other, and he remained motionless. It was Susannah who sensed his presence first. She loosened the hug and smiled shyly in his direction.
    Pansy tittered nervously when she realized he was standing in the doorway. "I didn't hear you come in, Mr. Killian."
    "I should have said something," he said abruptly. Killian felt bad for the woman. Ever since he'd told the Andersons the truth, it had been as if a shock wave had struck the farm. Sam Anderson had promptly gone out to the barn to fix a piece of machinery. Pansy had suddenly gotten busy with canning duties. Staying occupied was one way to deal with