ETERNALLY YOURS …His breath, heavy with whiskey, assailed her nostrils. “Craylen? What on earth are you doing up?” The ...
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ETERNALLY YOURS …His breath, heavy with whiskey, assailed her nostrils. “Craylen? What on earth are you doing up?” The sensuality of being within his arms, cloaked in darkness, was nearly more than Ariel could bear as an answering heat swept through her body. “I might ask you the same thing,” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek as his mouth remained mere inches away. “I…I couldn’t sleep. I…I was looking for a lantern,” her voice trembled. Damn herself for losing control in his presence. “How long were you standing there?” “Since you came into the room. I felt the draft while I was having bourbon in the study. I came in here to close the window. That’s when you came in.” His white teeth flashed in the darkness, proving his humor at finding her at his mercy. Ariel slapped his chest, the sound echoing about the empty room. “You did too mean to frighten me. Otherwise you would have said something. Let me know you were here.” “Guilty.” His teeth gleamed against the blackness of the night again. “Can I help it if I enjoy having you at my mercy?” Ariel was speechless as she stared into his dark features, wishing for light to see the strong contours of his face. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she enjoyed looking upon his comeliness. She tried pushing herself from his embrace, but his hold only tightened. “Please,” she whispered, unsure of whether she begged to be released or for the kisses he so masterfully bestowed upon her, which forever haunted her dreams. Cray lowered his face so slowly Ariel thought she would die of wanting…
PRAISE FOR ETERNALLY YOURS “…Rasey pens a more emotional tale (for this reader) than previous tales I have read of hers…The life and the pain that Ariel has endured brings tears to the eyes and a pain to the readers own heart. Ariel isn’t as strong as some of Ms. Rasey’s previous heroines, who stood up to their men and are ready to fight to the death for those they love. But Ariel is an amazing lady, one whose strength is inside, the strength to keep going after all the hellish things she has been through. Eternally Yours is a fast-paced, continual adventure and impossible to put down. Never a dull moment in a Patricia A. Rasey tale! Another hit and another keeper to add to one’s shelf. Cray and Ariel are two characters (Ryder and Cheri also), that will be hard to forget. Patricia A. Rasey is an author who can write any genre and make it shine from her touch. I can’t wait to read more of her work very soon!” —Tracey West The Road to Romance “…The action is non-stop and the carnal desire between Ariel and Cray will have you devouring its pages. Rasey’s vivid and exciting characters are never middle-of-the-road: you either love them or hate them—you may even switch alliances as you watch their characters grow and change…The storyline is never dull as Rasey’s intricate plot grabs hold and doesn’t ease up for a minute. Rasey demonstrates she’s not only on her way up, but she’s here to stay. A fast-paced and dynamic story…sure to have any romance lover addicted to the prose of Patrica A. Rasey.” —Ingrid Taylor Small Press Review
ALSO BY PATRICIA A. RASEY Deadly Obsession Facade Fear The Dark The Hour Before Dawn Kiss Of Deceit Lawfully Yours
ETERNALLY YOURS BY PATRICIA A. RASEY
AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com
ETERNALLY YOURS AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2003 by Patricia A. Rasey ISBN 1-59279-162-X Cover Art © 2003 Trace Edward Zaber Cover Models: Eddie Foltz and Teresa Lyons Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com
PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
To all of those at Hawk’s Pizza where I spend my days, this one’s for you! And to Amy Wachtmann and Teresa Lyons who talked me into submitting the romances I thought to forever collect dust. A special thanks to Terry Herbin, friend, critique partner, who stood by my side, shared in my sorrows and joys, and was there for me through all the rejections. I treasure the time we shared and only wish you still lived within driving distance. And of course, thanks to my editor, Catherine Snodgrass, who lent her talent and time to make Lawfully Yours and Eternally Yours what they are today. I appreciate all the hours spent on my work and helping me see what I couldn’t. And to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, to whom I owe everything.
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PROLOGUE
Atlantic City, New Jersey October 1870 Agitation fairly radiated through his taut body. He paced the study of his mansion feeling like a lion caged. He had to do something. He couldn’t allow the little witch and her mother to get away with their grand scheme. And grand it was. Had he planned the whole ordeal himself, he doubted it would have gone off as smoothly. Craylen Wayne Rollins III stopped pacing long enough to glare at his longtime friend, Matt Gilson, who did little to ease the gnawing apprehension building in him like a lit fuse slowly itching its way toward the dynamite. Matt sat in one of his leather, high-back chairs with his feet kicked out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His fingers laced together atop his lap. But his face, the smug smile resting there, was what bothered Cray the most. He wanted nothing more than to walk over to his friend and wipe the silly smirk from his features. 1
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Raking both his hands through his unkempt hair, he glowered at Matt. Most men cowered from a less look. But not Matt, he sat unflinching, raising one thick eyebrow. “Tell me, good man, what’s so terrible about your situation? Is she that uncomely?” Matt snickered. “Quite the opposite if you must know,” Cray growled before resuming his pacing. “Then I fail to see where your foul mood comes in.” “She trapped me, for God’s sake! This whole situation is intolerable.” Cray didn’t bother to stop and supply Matt with a look. One glance at the pompous ass, proving the smile on his face still remained, he’d be guilty of cold-cocking a much trusted friend. “When does she arrive?” he asked innocently, not moving an inch. “A month from today.” Cray stopped at the lace-draped window and looked over his well-manicured lawns, where a servant went about trimming the bushes for the onset of winter. “You make it sound as though it’s a death wish, Cray. My God, man, you’re only getting married.” He whirled around. “Precisely.” He said the word with such venom, he swore Matt recoiled. “And marriage isn’t something I want—ever!” “I really don’t see how you’re going to side-step this one.” Matt righted himself in the chair, uncrossing his legs before continuing. “But tell me, how does one mistake a lady for a whore?” Cray’s face heated in anger. By God, he’d cold-cock him yet. One word, one more word, and he’d no longer hold himself accountable for his actions. “I told you, she was in my bed when I got back to the hotel room.” Still smirking, Matt narrowed his eyes at him. “Refresh my memory here. What happened when you arrived in Bridgeport?” “C.W. had a convention on the fabric industry. Instead of meeting here in Atlantic City like usual, they planned it in Pennsylvania.” Matt placed a long tapered finger against his thin lips and narrowed 2
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an eye at Cray. “So you accompanied your father and mother to Bridgeport on a business trip in which you had no interest. Forgive me for saying so, but I thought you and your father were at odds.” “C.W. and I only speak when necessary. You know that.” Cray paused. “It’s difficult not to take an interest in C.W.’s activities when he has his fingers in everything.” Matt scratched the top of his short cut, black hair. His bangs lay to the side, partly covering one of his vivid-blue eyes. “Far as I knew, your only interest was gambling.” “It is,” Cray snapped, running his fingers through his hair again. “Anyway, I went for Mother’s benefit.” “Do go on. You went to Bridgeport.” Cray let out a slow, even breath as he began his pacing once more. “Before meeting Mother and C.W. for dinner in the dining room, I stopped by the office to see the hotel’s owner. You remember Ryan?” “Of course, he served under Sherman.” “I asked him to see to it a whore was in my bed by the time I returned to my room following the evening meal. I quickly excused myself following supper and about five bourbons later, no longer able to take C.W.’s scorn about the way I lead my life. Upon entering my room, I found exactly what I expected to see, but yet somehow more.” “How so?” “Not that I didn’t expect beauty, but damn—this woman went beyond. Her hair was pale blonde, so much so it was damn near void of color. Her eyes were the color of summer skies. Hell, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” Matt chuckled, being awarded with a scathing look from Cray. He wisely rid his face of the smile. “Well, I just fail to see where the problem lies then if you find her so damn beautiful.” “The problem is I was duped! She was no whore but a lady. Here I was, had her prim little nightgown off—” “Wait a minute,” Matt interrupted. “She wore a nightgown? Since 3
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when do whores wear prim little nightgowns?” “Christ, I was so blinded by lust I wouldn’t have cared if she wore armor. I wasn’t thinking. All I wanted was to be wrapped within her.” “Well, did you then?” Cray expelled his breath. “Hell, no. Her mother came storming into the room dragging a hotel maid with C.W. and Mother hot on her tail. There I was, poised over the woman’s daughter, ready to breach the virginity I was unaware she had.” Cray stopped pacing and ran both hands over his taut face. One month, one more lousy month of freedom. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at Matt, who finally had the dignity to look concerned. “And you think this was all set up? That she and her mother trapped you into marriage?” “I don’t know how they found out Mother was intent on seeing me married. But they did. Now, Ariel Marie Montgomery has found herself engaged to a very wealthy man—considering who my father is. Hell, the joke’s on her though. I wouldn’t take a penny from the old man.” “But you’re far from broke. Hell, just look at this place. It’s one of the finest homes on this island.” “It is the finest. Had C.W. built here instead of Absecon though, my home would pale in comparison.” Cray chuckled as he envisioned the monstrosity his father called home. With him and his brother, Clifford, out of the house, it only left his youngest brother, Henry, living with his parents. A smile touched his face at the thought of his youngest sibling. Henry was quite the handful. As a matter of fact, he was the whole reason his mother invited him to Bridgeport. Tabitha had wanted to persuade him into taking Henry off their hands. Of course, due to his present situation, Cray had declined. Now, he had a wife to control. And, of course, control her he would. “By the look of things,” Matt’s voice filtered into Cray’s musings, “I believe you’ve thoroughly compromised this woman’s daughter and 4
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you have no other choice but to marry her.” Cray eyed his friend carefully beneath one raised brow. “That’s exactly how Mother put it. Have you two been conspiring against me by any chance?” Matt looked wounded, but Cray doubted he even scratched the arrogant man’s pride. “Absolutely not! Your only way out is to prove this Ariel and her mother are lying about her virginity, and I really don’t see how you’ll possibly prove that before the wedding night.” “And she better pray she still has it.” Cray slammed a hand atop his rolled-top writing desk. “By God, if I’m going to marry, it certainly won’t be to another man’s leavings.”
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CHAPTER 1
Atlantic City, New Jersey November 1870 “Go help someone who gives a shit,” rang threw her thoughts assiduously as a lone tear ran down her cheek unchecked. Ariel Marie Montgomery sat in a gray Queen Anne styled chair looking out the large, curtained window of the private railroad car, barely noticing the landscape as it flashed by. The trees, houses, and ocean all but a blur. She cared little for where the ornately decorated car took her. Her life, as she knew it, was over. “Go help someone who gives a shit,” troubled her once more. She placed her face in the palms of her hands, shielding all from view, though the only other occupant of the train, her mother, sat to the back of the car reading L.M. Alcott’s Little Women, paying her little attention. “Go help someone who gives a shit.” Tanner McCabe’s parting 6
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words to her. How could she still care for him after all he did? How could she still love him? But the fact remained, she did, and probably always would. How did one stop loving? The hole left in her heart ached for healing. She glanced back out the window, noting the blur of the many trees being quickly replaced by that of the vast ocean. Her destination neared, her new home—Atlantic City, New Jersey. Oh God, she nearly cried aloud. How was she ever to get through this? In the passing months, her life had turned completely around. No longer did she cherish the dream of being Mrs. Tanner McCabe, but cowered at the idea of being Mrs. Craylen Wayne Rollins III, a man she scarcely knew. Her wedding was a scant three months away. Garbed in a midnight-blue street dress, Ariel toyed with the Russian-sable muff lying atop her lap. She thought of the days gone past when Tanner had excitedly talked of their life together, raising horses and being blessed with children. She could still see his white teeth flashing in his devilishly handsome face, tanned by heritage. His blue-black hair flowing nearly to his waist as he proudly wore the traits of his ancestors. His grandmother, a full-blooded Apache, was the reason her mother had forbidden the two her blessing. “Over my dead body!” she had said. But her love for Tanner had been based on a lie. He hadn’t been faithful. Oh, she knew he loved her all right, but the wait for marriage had been too much for him to endure. He took another to his bed, one who was unwilling, and conceived a child—her nephew, Joey. The shock of that news had come on the heels of another revelation; that she and Cheryl Donovan were half-sisters. They had the misfortune of having the same father. Charles Montgomery was a monster. His miserable life was taken abruptly when he faced the sharp end of a knife, stealing his life’s blood. Justice had been served. She would no longer have to endure the groping of the vile man in the middle of the night who had stole her 7
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innocence at such a tender age. Pity that her life should take a turn for the better only to spiral downward like a splinter of wood in a whirlpool a year later. Craylen Wayne Rollins III, her husband-to-be. Her mind traveled back to the night they shared the same bed, sealing their fate, the night she thought her vivid dreams seemed all too real. Her body reacted wantonly to the man in her honeyed dreams only to discover it wasn’t a fantasy at all, but a flesh and blood man—one who pulled the strings of her desire to a fevered pitch. Had it not been for the untimely arrival of her mother, her mother’s maid, and his parents, she would have freely given herself to him. A flush crawled up her skin, heating her face. Was she truly a product of her father’s sins? Did she have no more control over herself than to give herself without regard to a man she never even met? She remembered little of the night that changed her life, much of it still remaining a cloudy haze. Her last coherent thought before waking up beneath Craylen’s ministrations was of her mother’s maid, tucking her in for the night. Could Vanessa have made a vital mistake and placed her in the wrong room? More than likely she was correct in thinking her mother involved. It certainly wouldn’t have been beneath Adelaine to see to it her daughter was in Mr. Rollins’ bed when he had expected a whore. After all, the end result would be what Adelaine had sought all along. Ariel Montgomery would never become the wife of Tanner McCabe. “Darling?” Her mother disrupted her musings. “Do you see we are almost there?” Ariel’s stomach settled to her knees at the pitch of excitement lacing her mother’s words. Apprehension clawed at her already raw nerves, as she glanced out the window and spotted the depot slipping into sight. She was certainly in no hurry to see her future husband as she was sure he shared the same trepidation. Upon leaving the hotel room in Bridgeport, he had made himself 8
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perfectly clear by saying, “You’ll rue the day you decided to trap me into marriage.” The wheels slowed their relentless clacking as they neared the bright red station. The train whistle blew, sending steam billowing from the large stack. Ariel gripped the wooden arms of the chair, whitening her knuckles, as the scenic view before her rolled to a slow stop and the whistle sounded once more. A stout man poked his head through the door at the front of the car. A flat, pill-style cap topped his graying head. “Atlantic City, ladies. Mr. Rollins sent his coach for you. Said we’re to help you with your trunks before taking back this car.” “Taking back this car?” Ariel drew her eyebrows together. “Yes, ma’am.” The short man nodded. “This here belongs to C.W. Rollins himself. He commissioned us to pick you up and deliver you into the hands of his son. Safe I might add. Can’t be too careful these days.” “Is Mr. Rollins’ father here then?” Adelaine’s tone rose in pitch. “Sorry, ma’am. C.W. said he wouldn’t be making this trip for another couple months, but I’m sure Mr. Rollins will fill you in when you arrive at his estate.” The man grinned. “You have to be relieved you’re near the end of your long journey. His coachman is waiting for you outside the station. May I assist you?” He held out one thick elbow. Adelaine, already bundled for the chill of the weather, stuck one gloved hand at the curve of his arm and allowed him to escort her to the waiting coach. Alone now, Ariel spun around the elegant car, looking for a place to escape. The time had come, her life had ended, the decisions had been made, and there was nowhere to run. With trembling fingers, she grasped her matching blue jacket trimmed with gold braid and slid each arm into the sleeves. Her fingers shook, barely allowing her to slip each button through its fastening. She 9
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bent to pick up her discarded muff now lying on the floor just as the man re-entered the car, causing her to jump. “Forgive me, ma’am. Didn’t mean to startle you.” The man’s reddened cheeks clearly spoke of his embarrassment. Ariel picked up her reticule and headed for the stout man, taking his offered elbow. “Don’t be silly. I’m just a little jumpy today.” “I can understand, meeting your future husband’s staff and all.” Ariel paused in her walking and glanced at him, coming eye to eye. She hadn’t given a thought to Craylen having a staff other than like her mother who had a single maid. Of course, he was wealthy but… “How many people does Mr. Rollins employ?” “Excluding those who work for his father, I’d say about fifteen.” He placed a hand atop hers and began leading her to the coach. “Fifteen?” she mumbled more to herself than to the gentleman beside her. Good Lord, what was she getting herself into? “Yes, ma’am. But it isn’t anything compared to the thirty or so C.W. has in his household staff.” The man beamed as though he prided himself on knowing the Rollins’ business first-hand. Rounding the corner of the depot, she received her answer on just how wealthy her future husband was. Before her sat an Eight-glass Coach complete with coachman decked in the latest livery, and a footman, dressed in the same fashion, who held open the door for her. Adelaine sat in the plush interior, grinning from ear to ear, as though she was quite pleased with herself. No wonder Craylen had disliked her so much. He thought she was out to steal his fortune. Ariel released a groan and allowed herself to be assisted into the freshly oiled leather interior. The smell of lemons threatened to choke the life from her. Several minutes later, the coach turned onto a long, crushed-shell driveway, leading to a large white, two-story house bedecked with gray shutters. There were many windows gracing the front, trimmed to match the entrance. A balcony with french doors sat above the main 10
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doorway also painted in the same fashion. The double-entrance doors beckoning all visitors were painted a scarlet red. Blood red was more like it. She shuddered at the thought. Her blood. The roof, too, seemed to drip the color. As the coach pulled around the circular drive in front, they were greeted by several servants standing on the six-pillared porch. Ariel noted most to be in their later years aside from one, a young girl, whom Ariel guessed to be about the same age as she. She stood to the side, nervously wringing her hands in the fabric of her gray skirt. Ariel’s gaze darted about, but she didn’t catch sight of her future husband. She hadn’t seen him in three months, not since the night sealing their fate, though she held little doubt she would recognize him. His imposing size and lion-like features made an unforgettable impression. The door to the carriage opened and Adelaine alighted quickly, wasting no time. Ariel hesitated momentarily, then gave the footman her hand, allowing him to help her disembark. She ran her hands over her blue street dress, attempting to smooth the wrinkles creasing her gown due to the long trip. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her Waterfall hat, she glanced at the front of the house, catching a glimpse of a moving curtain as it fluttered back into place. * * * “My God, man. She’s beautiful.” Matt straightened his tied cravat. “You’re dreading being married to that? Are you blind?” “Isn’t there something else you should be doing?” Cray grumbled, glancing out the window himself. He wondered about his decision to go along with this little farce for the sake of his mother; she had been adamant about not ruining this poor girl’s reputation. But what did he care? He certainly didn’t give a hoot about his own. Seeing her again, though, had told him more than he cared to admit, a part of him almost wanted to make this little minx 11
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his own. And Matt had been wrong. His future wife wasn’t just merely beautiful. Men dreamed about women like her. Her blonde hair tucked beneath a hat adorned with ribbons and roses then cascaded freely down her back. Even from his faraway view, she held him mesmerized by the summer-blue of her vibrant eyes. His lower abdomen tightened in response. Disgusted, he hastily dropped the curtain back into place. “No, not really,” Matt responded, grinning foolishly. “You’ll be happy to hear I cleared my schedule for the remainder of the day.” “Oh, lucky me.” Cray shook his head, rolling his eyes as he slammed down the cover on his rolled-top desk. “No need to get testy.” Matt pulled on his black jacket and checked his appearance in a long mirror hanging by the door. “You have the rest of your life to be alone with her.” “By the looks of you, you’d think you were the one marrying her— which doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” Cray ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, knowing how mussed he must appear. “Oh, no you don’t,” Matt chuckled, heading for the study’s closed door. “You’re the one who made the mistake of trying to bed her.” “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled, sighing heavily, not even bothering to check his appearance on his way out the door. * * * Ariel stepped past the servants, nodding her head in greeting as she passed them and walked into the foyer. An elderly butler stood static, holding one door open for her. Lemon-scented polishing oil wafted to her nose as she noted the well-kept entryway. The wood-planked floor gleamed beneath the light cast from a low hanging five-candle chandelier. A long-case clock sitting to the left of the door struck the hour, drawing her attention. Several gold-framed paintings lined the corridor. A potted fern sat twenty-five feet ahead on a wooden stand sporting six spindled legs beside a graceful cantilevered stairway. A floral carpet 12
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runner ran down the length of the stairs, secured by gleaming brass rods. A coat tree stood beside a low-back sofa along one wall, while the opposite wall sported a tea table garnished with a gleaming silver tray, teapot, and cups. Adelaine entered the room behind Ariel, gasping at the elegance. “Oh, my. What a home.” “But then you already guessed that, didn’t you, Mother.” Ariel stepped further into the room, allowing the valet to close the door behind them. A door to her immediate right opened. Ariel swung about to meet her future husband, only to be caught off-guard by one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on. One might even be tempted to use the word pretty to describe his face. His vivid-blue eyes twinkled with mischief. His glossy black hair fell to one side, partially shielding an eye from her view. His jaw was thin, almost pointed, but the arresting smile on his face caught her attention. His perfect white teeth flashed at her. “Miss Montgomery.” He extended a hand. She offered him her own hand, which he took, bringing it to his lips, and kissing the back. She fought the urge to pull it from his grasp. “Mister…I don’t believe I caught your name.” “Gilson,” he supplied, giving a slight bow. “Matthew Gilson at your service.” The hairs at her nape rose unnaturally, causing her to glance beyond the elegant man before her. In the doorway, arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest, stood the man who held her future in the palm of his hand. He leaned one shoulder against the frame of the door, his feet crossed at the ankle. His substance exuded such power she wondered if it were he who supported the frame of the door or the doorframe, which supported him. His tawny-colored hair fell untamed about his collar. His white shirt 13
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lay unbuttoned to the second hole, revealing a portion of the crisp curls on his chest. Her eyes traveled to the waistband of his trousers, which accented his trim waist, making his upper body appear in the shape of a “V”. The trousers he wore sported crisp creases running down the front of his legs. Her gaze quickly returned to his. Heat rose in her cheeks at being caught openly perusing him. Though he had detected her admiring his powerful form, it did little to rattle her stance. But the rancor she saw when their gazes locked, found her backing for the door. “Miss Montgomery.” His deep voice boomed from somewhere within his colossal chest, stopping her from taking flight. He raised one yellow-brown eyebrow in challenge. “We meet again—though I wasn’t sure I would recognize you with your clothes on.” Ariel gasped. Her mother feigned a swoon. The doorman caught her beneath her armpits to keep her from falling to the floor. All smiles left their respective faces as each turned to glare at the man who stood unflinching from his position. Ariel was the first to move. She traipsed around the well-dressed man and stood ramrod straight in front of the lion threatening to devour her. “And you, sir, would do better to keep yours on.” She grasped the sides of her skirt, turning, and scanned the rows of gawking faces. Finding the one she sought, she mustered a smile, telling the young woman, “If you could show me to my room. It’s been a long trip.”
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CHAPTER 2
Laughter echoed off the four walls as Cray returned to his study. There, in one of his high-back leather chairs, sat Matt Gilson doubled over in what Matt considered merriment. Cray always thought his friend’s sense of humor dry, and at this particular moment, it wouldn’t suit Matt well. Seeing Cray enter his study, Matt had done his best to try and contain his amusement, only to be bowled over with a fresh round of chortles. If he didn’t change his present disposition, Cray thought he would surely find Matt rolling about the walnut-planked floor, holding his stomach in painful delight. All at Cray’s expense. He rolled his eyes heavenward and wrapped his hands tightly around the oak-stained desk to keep from striking a friend who was foolish enough to find humor in something that Cray found infuriating. “If you don’t cease your annoying laughter, you can take your condescending ass away from here,” Cray grumbled. “I’m sorry, my good man,” he chuckled, trying his damnedest to 15
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stop the peals of laughter from coming, only to fail miserably when another bout followed. “Ahh, hell.” Cray ran one hand slowly down his face. Why in damnation did he have to save his sorry ass from being shot off six years back? He walked over to the window watching a few of his servants working his well-manicured lawns, a scene he rarely saw due to the late hours he normally kept. Normal. What would happen to his muchcherished way of life? He seldom viewed the light of day. Nightfall had always been his favorite time. No less than one woman on each arm, with breasts large enough to suffocate in, and a bottle of his favorite bourbon before him. “Really, Cray,” Matt broke into his thoughts. Cray turned from his position, giving him a scathing look, almost awarding him with more of Matt’s unwanted witticism. Instead, only a silly smirk remained. “I’m truly sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh when all is at your expenditure.” “The hell you didn’t,” Cray cut through clenched teeth. He felt the ache in his jaw travel up his face only to settle in the spot exactly between his eyes, prizing him with one atrocious headache. “You’re damned lucky I don’t fire you.” He rubbed two of his fingers over the affected area. “Of course, you wouldn’t.” Matt’s confidence bestowed on his face. “Who else would you get to put up with you?” “Someone who would sympathize with my situation,” Cray mumbled. “Ha! So you have to get married.” Matt shrugged his shoulders. “After being apprised of her beauty, I don’t think you’ll find a man within five states to sympathize with you—envy maybe.” “Then you marry her,” he growled, narrowing his eyes. “You seem so damn taken with her.” 16
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“Oh, you’re just mad because she bested you.” “Bested me? What the hell do you mean?” “Come now, Cray, tell me her parting comment hadn’t stung.” “You mean—” “You should keep your clothes on,” he chuckled again, only to quickly snap his mouth shut when Cray began advancing on him, fists clenched. Matt raised his hands in front of him as though to ward off the inevitable, though his smile betrayed his lack of worry. “You have to admit, she had a point.” “Which was?” “Had you kept them on in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.” Cray ran both hands over his taut face and into his unkempt hair. Bourbon. He needed bourbon. He turned on his heel and walked over to a bookshelf containing a set of double doors. Opening them, he grasped the glass decanter he sought and poured himself a large tumbler full. Downing the fiery liquid in one gulp, he slammed the glass back on the shelf and poured himself another before offering a glass to Matt. “Not this early. Hell, I got the whole day ahead of me. I should probably retire if I’m to be of any use to you.” “Sounds like a jolly good idea, Matt,” Cray sneered before swallowing the contents to his second glass. “My gambling dens won’t run themselves.” “So you won’t be coming by tonight?” Cray frequented each hall, keeping track of business personally. But it was the den Matt ran that kept him until the wee hours of the morning as the two drank away the night when neither was in the company of a female companion. Which wasn’t often, Cray thought smugly. “Get one thing straight,” Cray pointed a finger in the air, “my life won’t change one bit. Not even if I marry her.” Matt sat firm, the smile on his face vanished. After a long bit of 17
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silence, he rose, eyeing Cray austerely. “Your life changed the moment you crawled into bed and threatened that poor woman’s virtue.” “What?” Cray nearly roared, drawing his brows together. His body radiated in fury at the turnabout of his friend. His friend. How could he forget it was she who trapped him into this ridiculous scam? “One look on her comely features and you turn into a babbling idiot? Need I remind you who tricked whom? I thought her a whore not a gentile lady, for God’s sake! Why the hell am I even trying to explain this to you?” “Because you value my opinion.” One side of Matt’s mouth quirked upward. “I did until moments ago,” Cray grumbled. “Get the hell out of here. You’ve got a gaming hall to run, and I don’t need a jackass who’s too tired to see if I’m getting ripped off. It’s bad enough you can’t see when I’m being duped by a slip of a woman.” Matt’s brows rose. “I’ll see you tonight then?” “You’re damn right you will.” * * * Ariel bent over a trunk pulling gowns and dresses from one of her bags, frowning at the creases made from their long trek, cramped into a space not large enough to house a trousseau let alone her entire belongings. The maid who had shown her to her room, stood behind her hanging her articles into the wardrobe closet provided in her room. After being shown to her quarters, the one granted until following the wedding when she would be given the room adjoining her husband’s, she had learned Christina Pratt, the daughter of one of the elderly maids, was hired recently, solely to be her lady’s maid. The pleasant girl, who preferred to be called Tina, was about the same age as she and hopefully would make her a much-needed confidant. Being so many miles from home with no one but her mother to be her familiar, she welcomed the pretty girl’s presence. Ariel finally reached the bottom of the last trunk, pulling out the 18
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pale pink, off the shoulder dress to be her wedding gown. Red-ribbon rosettes bedecked the shoulders, the bodice, as well as a spot about knee level, which raised the front of the elaborate gown to show the white eyelet-lace petticoat to be worn beneath. The waist cinched tight only to bustle at the back, accentuating her trim waist and ample bosom. “We must show off your assets, dear,” her mother had said. “Craylen must see the true prize he has won.” “I don’t think he sees me as a prize, Mother. More like a death sentence,” Ariel mumbled to herself. “Pardon me, Mistress?” Tina inquired from her position by the closet. Ariel’s gaze flew to hers, not realizing she spoke the words aloud. Tina’s eyes weren’t on her, however, but widened in appreciation as she came to stand beside her. “The dress, it is beautiful.” “Yes, it is,” Ariel agreed in a solemn voice, handing the offensive article to Tina as though it were something distasteful. “You seem saddened. You don’t wish to marry Mr. Rollins? He is so handsome.” A gentle blush crept up her throat and to her face as she cast her eyes downward. “I’m sorry, mistress. I shouldn’t speak of your future husband so. My mother told me my wayward tongue would get me into trouble and I don’t wish to lose this job. My job is to assist you…nothing more.” Ariel touched Tina’s shoulder, causing the maid to look at her. She smiled at the petite maid. “Please, never apologize for talking to me. If you are to work for me, then I welcome your friendship. I know no one here. And don’t feel embarrassed by noting my future husband’s comeliness. You’d have to be blind not to notice.” “So you do find him handsome?” “I don’t know if I’d use the word handsome, but he is certainly striking.” 19
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“Then I don’t understand your reason for being sad. Mr. Rollins, he is certainly rich.” Tina hung the pale-pink gown with her wardrobe as Ariel returned to her trunk. “His wealth means nothing to me…” Her breath caught in her throat, stopping any further speech she might have, as she caught a glimpse of the last object left in the bottom of her trunk, a painting. With trembling hands, Ariel retrieved the work of art, colors of rich rusts, golds, and browns assailed her vision, bringing forth tears stinging her eyes. A likeness of Tanner and her. Her back rested against him as his arms enveloped her. His tanned cheek nestled against the paleness of her hair. He was bare-chested while his hair adorned eagles’ feathers showing his Indian heritage. Her body had been cloaked in virginal white. The background faded in swirls of rich colors as an eagle soared above their heads. Flipping over the portrait, scrawled in paint, she read the words, A gift to my beloved wife whom I love more than life itself. Tanner. A lump threatened to choke off her last breath as it lodged in her throat and tears fell recklessly down her cheeks. Tanner had painted the portrait and meant to give it to her as a wedding gift, their wedding. When had he managed to slip it into her trunk amongst her belongings, beneath the gown she would wear the day she married Craylen? She clutched the prized possession against her chest, whispering, “Oh God, Tanner,” as she rocked back and forth on her knees and her shoulders shook in sobs. “Mistress?” Tina asked. “Are you all right?” Ariel swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks, attempting to recover her dignity. “No,” she choked on a sob. “I fear I’ll never be all right again.” A knock sounded on the door, followed by her mother’s voice. “Ariel, dear.” Ariel quickly shoved the portrait beneath the pillow on her bed. 20
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“Come in, Mother.” Opening the door, Adelaine walked into the room, perusing the elegant surroundings. “I must say Mr. Rollins certainly has good taste in homes.” A four-poster, canopied bed sat beside a window allowing a view to the front of the Rollins’ vast estate while a silk-striped, yellow settee sat at the foot. The walls were papered with large wine-colored roses and greenery. A fireplace sat to the left of the bed, adorned with freshcut flowers and a mirror, which hung above the mantel where a large wreath decorated the center. Two blue, velvet chairs flanked the fireplace. “Edward, Mr. Rollins’ butler, has agreed to take me on a tour of the grounds before the supper hour, dear. Would you like to come along?” “No, Mother, I think I’d rather rest. It’s been a long day.” The beginning of a very long life, she wished to add. “I’ll just see you at supper.” “Suit yourself,” Adelaine said joyfully, as though delighting in her daughter’s misery, and walked out the door. “Since we have finished here, I’ll leave you to yourself.” Tina offered a small grin. “Thanks, Tina.” She returned the smile. Tina took her leave, closing the door behind her. Ariel never felt more alone with her ever-rolling thoughts. She walked back to the window, pushing the lace curtain to the side. The ocean lay only a mile away, making the visible horizon nothing more than a blue line across the vast sky. She longed to walk along the beach and feel the sand as it squished between her toes, to feel the heat of the summer as it warmed her face and added a honey-glow to her skin. To walk hand in hand.… She turned to the bed and grasped the canvas hidden by her pillow. The hole in her heart ached at seeing his face, his straight patrician nose, his proud heritage. Even in her departure, he managed to hurt her, to keep her from loving another. Not that Craylen would ever cherish 21
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the gift of her love should she have any to give. A rap came to her door again, disturbing her reverie. She quickly slid the painting beneath her pillow, but before she had time to acknowledge the knocker’s presence, the door to her room swung open. Ariel gasped, seeing the focus of her thoughts standing arrogantly before her. “You’re alone?” Cray asked, though Ariel had a feeling he knew the answer before he sought her presence. His hair remained tousled about his head matching the wildness of his eyes. “Yes. Need I remind you it’s not proper to visit a lady in her chambers without a suitable escort?” “One must act like a lady to be one,” Cray replied, one side of his lush lips quirking upward. Ariel remembered all too well what those lips felt like slanted over her own as she felt the beginnings of desire pool in her lower abdomen and hated herself for it. “What you see, sir, is all you get,” Ariel retorted. Cray took a step into the room, leaving the door stand open. “And I plan to take my fill come our wedding night.” “No need to remind me. I’ll suffer through my wifely duties.” Ariel took a step back. The window halted her retreat. Cray advanced on her until mere inches separated their bodies. The folds of her blue dress covered the shoes he wore. The smell of bourbon assailed her senses, but not in a revolting manner, rather enticing. His heat fairly radiated through the air, and his breath spanned her cheeks. “As I recall, you accepted my advances before, quite willingly I might add. The only pain you suffered from was regret. Regret I never got the chance to finish what we started. Your body trembled wantonly beneath mine. Had your mother not arrived, I would have had a mistress—not a wife.” “Did you come here to taunt me?” Ariel stiffened her stance, 22
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glaring into his equally hate-filled eyes. “No, I came to see if you were settled—if your surroundings are suitable.” He said the last word with such malice Ariel knew he referred to the small fortune he thought she meant to steal. “Do us both a favor and send me back.” Tears filled her eyes. She knew she couldn’t leave on her own, her mother would never allow it. But if he were to send her away… “Tell them I’m not suited to be your wife.” Cray blinked, narrowing his eyes as his brow creased. Moments passed before he uttered a word, then finally he hissed, “Don’t play the wounded with me, Ariel. We both know what you and your conniving mother want. I won’t play your games. If I have to suffer, then so shall you—all the days of your miserable life.” He turned on the back of his foot and marched out the door, slamming it behind him. The walls rattled from the force, causing the wreath hanging on the mirror to fall and roll, only to land where his feet just stood. Ariel ran both hands through her hair at the scalp, sending pins flying atop the area rug lying on the wooden floor. Her hair fell about her shoulders and to her waist as tears flowed down her cheeks. She was already suffering. How could he possibly make her suffer more?
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CHAPTER 3
The long-case clock in the entranceway struck seven. Eight o’clock nightly his servants served the evening meal. One more hour until he would feast his eyes upon her again, devouring her. It angered him for his body to betray him when in her presence. His mind and thoughts despised her. His heart iced over long ago. But damn his traitorous body, it wasn’t dead. His body came alive whenever he neared her, reminding him every grueling minute he was a man. Her tears had been so convincing, he almost, almost believed her when she pleaded for him to send her back. And of course, he did want to. But the thought of not looking upon her whenever he chose left a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. Cray shook his head and walked to his desk, overlooking the ledgers. The books and papers littered the surface for the last two hours, but he had yet to look at them, really look at them. Sure, he had glanced over the figures, jotted a number down here and there, but he’d be damned if he could make heads or tails of the totals at the moment. 24
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All because of her. His mind never strayed far from the vixen upstairs. What was she doing? Probably gloating at the absurdity of his predicament. He had courted women for years, and for years women had tried to get him to make that final commitment. He had laughed at them all. Craylen Wayne Rollins III would never get married and give his father the satisfaction of having a grandson from him. Now here he was, three short months away from jumping in headfirst. Why did he feel like his life was over? Women were good for one thing, and of course, he enjoyed them immensely. But now he found his thoughts returning to the one woman who bested him, the one who infuriated him most, the one he would be forever tied to. Would life in her bed be so bad? He had to admit it held a certain appeal, but he knew he would never be able to endure her company. He would never be able to sit in the same room with her and hold an intelligible conversation. For if he wasn’t entertaining the idea of bedding her, he considered choking the life from her. A dangerous combination. Cray groaned, taking a seat behind his desk, placing the heel of his palms into his eyes. His body remained taut from unrequited need. Damn if he didn’t need to slake his desire. Following the evening meal, he’d go to his clubs and do just that. He would find a brunette— definitely not a blonde—and wallow in the mountains of pleasure. “Pardon me, sir. But your brother is here to see you.” Edward, his butler, stood fixed by the door, his hand on the gleaming brass knob. Cray hired him some ten years back when he acquired this home, leaving him to take care of the vast estates as he went off to war. Cray hadn’t been sorry on his decision to hire the elderly man, nor would he ever. “Henry?” Cray drew his brows together. His mother and father weren’t due for another two months. Surely they wouldn’t send Henry ahead of them. What the hell would he do with the little monster? “Not Henry, sir. Clifford.” 25
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“Cliff?” Cray stood, nearly knocking the chair to the floor as it rocked precariously on two legs before landing with a thud on all four. “What in God’s name is he doing here?” “Said he has business to discuss with you,” Edward replied, the side of his static mouth curving upward. Edward knew exactly how Cray felt about his middle brother and would never summon the man even if he had business that required a lawyer’s hand. Cray raked his fingers through his hair, paced to the window, and let out a slow, steady breath. “Send him in.” “As you say, sir.” Edward closed the door behind him only to have it open moments later. A tall thin man walked through the opening. His hair was much shorter than Cray’s, but of the same summer-wheat color. Clifford’s jaw slipped down in a sharp angle only to square off at the tip; his nose bearing the same slant. Cray noted his facial features were the only thing strong about his brother. Though fair in height, his body lacked in weight. A good strong wind…. “Mother tells me you are to be married in three months,” Cliff pointed out. Cray glared at him, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have to be there?” “No, of course not. Not if you don’t wish me to be.” Cray watched as Cliff checked his appearance in the mirror hanging by the door. He straightened his cravat, then checked each cuff to see that it hung beneath his jacket no more than a half inch. He always was more concerned about the way he looked than the matters at hand. “I really don’t care what you do, Cliff.” Cray returned to his desk, sat down, and began leafing through his ledgers, hoping his brother would take the strong hint it was meant to be and leave. “Now I haven’t come all this way to have you ignore me.” He turned, giving Cray a look meant to belittle him. He hated the way his brother tried to disparage him as though Cray 26
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were no more than a little child. And at the moment all Cray wanted was to walk across the room and throw his brother out by the seat of his pants. Cray slammed his palm on the desk, the sound echoed across the room, and stood up, wondering at Cliff’s motivation for being here in the first place. “Just what the hell did you come here for, little brother?” “Well…Mother informed me of how your little engagement came into being. I thought I might be of assistance in protecting your wealth.” Cray almost chuckled. He should have guessed. This was about money. With Clifford, it always was. “And how would that be?” “We certainly wouldn’t want her running off with all you’ve built up here.” At least Cliff had the decency to look unnerved. “She won’t be running off at all.” “Are you so certain?” “My little bride will be so besotted once I bed her, she wouldn’t dare.” Cray wished his certainty matched that of the statement. “Pretty confident in your abilities.” “I never had problems keeping women.” “As we already know. The problem lies in you keeping them. Maybe I should be offering her my assistance.” “Maybe you should.” Cray returned his gaze to the desk’s top and began leafing through the papers though he saw little of the figures before him. How dare Cliff offer to assist the minx in her scheme? A quiet knock sounded on the door followed by an unacknowledged admittance. “Mr. Rollins…oh, pardon me,” Adelaine apologized. “I didn’t realize—” “Oh, but she did, sir,” Edward interrupted, as he entered the room behind her. “I told her you were in a meeting with your brother.” Cray would have laughed at the rumpled expression on his trusted butler’s face had the situation been other than what it was. “It’s all right, Edward. I’ll take care of it.” 27
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Edward bowed stiffly and exited the room, once again shutting the door to bar off intruders. “Mrs. Montgomery? What can I do for you? Are your quarters not to your satisfaction?” Cray raised one brow. “Oh, to the contrary.” Adelaine wore a smile sweet enough to strangle a snake. “I find your home lovely.” “I bet you do,” Cray grumbled. “Mrs. Montgomery, this is my brother, Counselor Clifford Rollins.” Adelaine offered her hand to Cliff and curtsied as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back. “Mrs. Montgomery, I’m charmed to meet you.” “The same, Mr. Rollins.” Cliff’s blue gaze rested a bit too long on his intended’s mother in Cray’s opinion. “You’re a lawyer?” Cliff dropped her hand but stayed his position in front of her. Adelaine smiled prettily. Hell, had he not known better, he would think the old bat was openly flirting with his brother. Cray shook off the ridiculous notion. “Yes, I am, madam. Are you in need of legal assistance?” Cliff asked. Cray wanted to smother his life’s breath from him. What the hell was wrong with his brother, offering the enemy his services? Not once, but twice! “Not at the moment, but should I be—” “You’ll find your own damn lawyer!” Cray barked. “For God’s sake, Cliff, isn’t there something you should be doing?” His gaze left the lovely Adelaine for a brief moment to steal a look at Cray. “Not at the moment, no.” “Then maybe it is I who should be leaving the two of you alone.” Malice coursed through his veins. “Oh, don’t be silly, my dear,” Adelaine giggled, grasping the sides of her green taffeta gown as she approached Cray, forgetting the gawking Cliff standing like a love-sick puppy by the door. “I just 28
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wanted to come in here and let you know, I approve of your home.” “You approve?” He tilted his head back and roared in mock laughter. Containing his ill-found humor, he settled his gaze on the wretched woman. “My dear woman, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of my home. Nor do I care what your conniving little daughter thinks. Kindly haul your backside out of my study. The supper hour will be early enough to endure the company of the likes of the two of you.” The heat of her anger rose in a red path from the ample show of her bosom to the black hair residing in a loose coiffure atop her head. “Well, I hardly think that kind of talk is appropriate in the company of a lady.” “A lady would never deceive a gentleman. And you, my dear, are quite guilty of that. You’re lucky my mother sees fit to protect your daughter’s reputation. At the moment…I sure in the hell don’t.” “Craylen, I hardly think your temper befits you.” Cliff turned his attention to the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Adelaine, if you’ll allow me a moment alone with my brother, I’ll see this situation rectified and he will give you an apology.” “Like hell I will!” Cliff sent him a scathing look, quieting Cray from saying another word. Normally, he wouldn’t have listened to Cliff had he been expounding on him the answers to the wonders of the world. But at this particular moment, he had to agree—grudgingly—Cliff was right. His temper wouldn’t accommodate him at the moment. “As I was saying before my badly behaved brother—” Cray grunted in response, earning Cray another exasperated look, “—interrupted me. If you’ll allow me, I’ll escort you to the dinner table tonight.” “Oh, wonderful! You’re staying for supper. Here I thought I might be blessed with both your absences.” “I’ll just have to make you another visit when your mood has much improved,” Cliff mumbled. “I can certainly see there is no talking to 29
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you today.” “What gave you that idea?” Cray rolled his eyes heavenward. “Now if the two of you will excuse me, I have work to do before I leave.” “You’re still going to continue your life as though nothing has changed?” Cliff almost sounded as though he expected otherwise. “My life won’t change one bit.” “Then you’ll certainly need my help later.” Cray uttered a humph as Cliff turned to the conniving witch. “Mrs. Montgomery? May I escort you to the dining table this eve?” “Certainly.” The irritating smile returned to her ruby painted lips. “Then I’ll take my leave.” He tipped a finger to his forehead, cocked a smile, and left the room. Adelaine gave Cray her full attention as the door closed behind Cliff. “Mr. Rollins, just what is it you do for a living?” Now it was Cray’s turn to smile. His eyes turned up in his newly found merriment. “I’m a gambler, Mrs. Montgomery. Any changes of heart?” He didn’t miss her slight intake of air, or the sudden change in the way she looked at him. “No, of course not.” “Not even if there was a chance I could lose everything I own at the turn of a hand?” Cray baited her. “Could you?” “Anything’s possible.” Cray sat down in his desk chair, kicked his legs out in front of him, crossed them at the ankle, and folded his arms behind his head as he stared at his future mother-in-law, unblinking. “Well, I highly doubt you came this far at the gaming tables. This…,” her hand did a sweep of her surroundings, “came from—” “Me,” he interrupted, not allowing her to think he received one penny from any other source. “My wealth didn’t come from my father.” He paused, raising an eyebrow before continuing. “I own four gambling establishments, all of which I personally oversee. So you see, that’s what I do with my nights. My wealth is self-made.” 30
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“And the women?” “Boy, you don’t miss a mark. You certainly get right to the point, don’t you? Why not ask me what’s really on your mind? Do I plan on giving up my extra activities?” “Do you?” “No.” “Well, I suppose it isn’t irregular to have a mistress or two.” Cray chuckled. The woman surely knew how to amuse him, not that he expected her response to surprise him. After all, her deceptive daughter and she were only after his money. Had she not said she would suffer through her wifely duties? Well, by God, he would keep her in his bed day and night. He would make her suffer all right. Of course, his plan did hold a certain amount of interest. His groin tightened just at the thought of bedding his willful little bride. “No, I don’t suppose it is. Any other questions, Mrs. Montgomery? I do have work to do before my evening meal is served. You might want to make sure your daughter is dressed and ready. I expect her to be on her best behavior.” Cray gave Adelaine the top of his head as he returned to the ledgers before him, not expecting a response. He didn’t rise as etiquette called for when Adelaine left the room. With the sound of the closing door, Cray raised his eyes and stared at the finely polished wood, releasing the air slowly from his chest. Narrowing his gaze, he thought of the slip of woman he was to marry. How in the world had she lived with that woman all these years? No wonder she had been anxious to marry. Too bad they hadn’t met under better circumstances. As beautiful as she is, he might have been tempted to offer marriage freely. Good God, what was he thinking? He really would have to be careful in the future and remember how he got into this situation in the first place. He couldn’t afford his heart to go soft where his future wife lie, lest he find himself stabbed to death in his sleep following the 31
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ceremony. At this point, he thought it wise not to rule out any possibility. After all, she was a skilled liar.
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CHAPTER 4
Ariel Montgomery noted an eight-candle, crystal chandelier lighting the dining room, casting shadows of light over the cream painted walls, trimmed in rich gold. Lace curtains adorned the two French-style doors leading to the patio at the back of the house, making a more extravagant picture than the home she left behind in Rhode Island. A cherry-wood buffet, laden with foods, stood to the left of the table. Dressed in a deep blue princess dress, Ariel sat at one of the eight chairs flanking the long carved table. Thin white china, trimmed in gold, adorned the table along with crystal water goblets and wine glasses, also edged in the same fashion. A servant, immediately at her side, placed a white linen napkin across her lap. He took her plate to the buffet as another servant filled her goblet with water and her glass with a ruby-red wine. Upon the placement of her food in front of her, her mother and a gentleman she had yet to meet entered the room. Adelaine wore a flirtatious smile as she allowed the man to seat her across the table from 33
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Ariel. Ariel noted the similarities between the young man and her future husband, guessing them to be somehow related. Their jaws held the same strong angle, their noses both slanted with a sharpness adding to their powerful faces. This man’s hair was cut short, the color having a likeness to Cray’s. But their similarities ended with the face, for where Cray was large in structure, this man was small. “Allow me to introduce myself, Miss.” The man stood across the table, extending a hand. Ariel rose and gave him hers, which he lifted to his lips. “Clifford Rollins at your service.” “Pleased to meet you,” Ariel said as she took her seat once again. “My name is Ariel Montgomery, Mr. Rollins, but you may call me Ariel. After all, we will be in-laws.” “You certainly will,” boomed from the other side of the room, causing all eyes to travel to the doorway. Dressed for dinner in a tailor-fitted, black jacket that accented the breadth of his shoulders, Cray walked into the dining room taking a seat at the head of the table leaving Ariel to his right. A servant walked to his side, but Cray raised his hand, halting his actions, and the servant immediately left the room. Cliff quickly took his own seat beside Adelaine. “I see you’ve met my charming younger brother.” Cray leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The air in the room became thick, as Ariel’s lungs constricted, making her breathing labored. How would she ever endure the company of this man? She couldn’t take a simple meal without feeling the stirring of desire. Cray’s dinner jacket lay unbuttoned, exhibiting a deep blue waistcoat. A starched white shirt resided beneath, lying opened at the collar exposing crisp golden curls. “You’re not saying much, sweetness. Dare I believe my good brother has left you speechless?” Cray’s mouth quirked on one side reminding her of the feel of his lush lips. The heat rose to her face, flushing her in embarrassment. She 34
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returned her gaze to the plate before her. “As I recall, you’ve had little to say since the day I met you. To think we might be only suited for one thing.” “Craylen,” Cliff warned in a stern voice, causing Ariel’s gaze to lift from the table and see the animosity written in the brothers’ eyes. “I don’t believe that conversation is suitable for the dinner table, let alone for the ladies’ ears.” Cray let out a humph, stood, grasped his plate, and headed for the buffet. “Show me a lady and I’ll keep my observations to myself.” “So,” Cliff tried desperately to change the turn in conversation, “you’re from Rhode Island?” Adelaine spoke first, engaging Cliff in conversation. Ariel kept her gaze lowered, noting the food. Only moments ago she was famished, now the tension left her without an appetite. Succulent garlic shrimp and lemon flounder lay on her plate as well as herb potatoes, peppered greens, and an array of raw vegetables, all untouched save for the toying of her fork. Cray, upon returning from the buffet, had little trouble consuming his plate of food, popping the last shrimp into his mouth. Surrounded by an ever-present five o’clock shadow, his opulent lips moved seductively, moistened from the wine now missing from his glass. His tongue swiped the last bit of moisture before he dabbed them with his napkin. He turned slowly, his pale whiskey-colored gaze locking hers. Time stopped except for the relentless ticking of the mantle clock sitting above the fireplace, drowning out the other voices in the room, making Ariel feel painfully alone. Ariel swallowed the lump threatening to close off her air supply, but she didn’t drop his gaze. Distaste rested within their depths, as well as something she had yet to name. The closest word she could use to describe his expression was hunger. Cray looked like a lion who threatened to pounce on her at the first given opportunity. She would do well to remember not to allow him the occasion. She doubted, had he 35
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leapt upon her, she would come away unscathed. “Your dinner not to your liking?” Cray asked. Ariel blinked several times before looking back at her plate of untouched food. “No…what I mean is, everything is just fine…not that I didn’t like it.” “You’ve hardly touched a bite.” He stabbed one of her garlic shrimp with his fork and placed it into his mouth, only to stab another and hold it to her lips. “You won’t know how good of a cook I have unless you try the food. I promise you, I won’t poison you. There are much more pleasurable ways to see to your death, had I the notion.” Ariel bit the offered shrimp from his fork, seeing it as one less barrier to cross. Maybe there was hope for them. “I’m glad to hear it. I’d hate to think I wouldn’t rise and see tomorrow.” Cray chuckled, the rumble coming from somewhere deep within his chest. “You humor me, sweetness. Death is too quick. I envision something more torturous, like enduring the marriage bed—as often as I see fit.” Warmness spread throughout her body and she returned her gaze to the tabletop. A strong finger touched the tip of her chin, tilting it up so their gazes once again met. “You started this, sweetness, as I recall.” A menacing smile crossed his face. “You didn’t seem to mind my advances in Bridgeport.” “How could I ever be fool enough to think you human?” she cried. “I thought you a dream.” “One hell of a dream,” Cray mocked her. “And I thought you a—” “Enough!” Cliff slammed his palm on the table as he stood. “I knew you were the worst sort of a rake, Cray, but by God, you’ve gone too far this time.” “And what do you plan to do about it, little brother?” Cray sneered, unaffected by Cliff’s threats. “Mother wanted to send Henry here, have him live with you for a 36
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few months before the wedding. She thought he would be a good distraction.” Cliff laughed non-humorously. “I told her the two of you needed to get to know each other without the distraction of dear brother. Now I think I was being hasty. By God, I’ll wire her first thing come morning. If nothing else, it will keep the two of you from killing each other because you’ll likely want to kill Henry.” “You wouldn’t dare.” Cray brought his brows together, coming to stand in front of Cliff. Even though Cliff was fair in size, Ariel noted he didn’t back from Cray’s over-powering form. “Consider the job already done, big brother.” “Christ.” Cray raked a hand through his hair letting it fall uncontrollably back into place. He shook his head and left the room, leaving the remaining few to stare soundlessly at his retreating back. * * * Hours seemed to have passed as Ariel lay in her room, alone. Upon helping Ariel into her nightwear, Tina took her leave. Ariel was unsure the time of night, only knew the sun’s descent took place hours ago. She tried sleeping, but blissful unconsciousness wouldn’t come. At the moment, she preferred anything to her ever-present thoughts of Craylen. Though still in love with Tanner, she found herself hopelessly attracted to the man she would call husband. She rolled to her side, bunching her pillow beneath her head, letting out a sigh. The fire danced behind the brass grate, but the only vision lurking in the shadows of her mind was lion’s eyes, threatening to consume her whole, framed by straight tawny-colored brows. Ariel tossed to her back, resigned to no sleep. At least if she wasn’t going to get any amount of favorable shut-eye tonight, she would keep her thoughts occupied. Swinging her feet to the floor, she grasped her white night-wrapper and slipped it on. She checked her appearance in the standing floor mirror before leaving the room. Satisfied the wrapper covered her sufficiently should she encounter anyone this time of night, 37
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she exited the room. Wall sconces cast a dim light about the hallway as she made her way to the main floor where Cray’s study was. Surely, he would keep books of some sort to read. Dim flickering light came from beneath the closed door. She paused, putting her ear to the wood, careful not to alert the inhabitant in the room of her presence. The sound of crackling wood drifted to the door, but there wasn’t another noise. Decidedly sure the room was vacant aside from the roaring fire, she grasped the knob and opened the door quietly as not to disturb anyone sleeping in the house. She returned the door to its closed position, before tiptoeing into the dark room, gasping at the sight before her. Cray stood before the flames, resting a bare arm over the mantel, staring into the fire. His free hand held a glassful of an amber-colored liquid. The firelight played through the liquor of the glass, though that wasn’t what captured and held her attention. Cray’s shirt and waistcoat lay across the back of the desk’s chair, leaving his upper torso nude to her inspection. He turned slowly, eyeing her from his position in front of the fireplace. The flames played shadows across his flesh, sending light dancing about the tanned skin. His chest, sculptured like a Greek statue, tapered to a washboard abdomen where a thin column of hair disappeared into the top of his undone trousers. Dear God in heaven, he wasn’t only becoming, he was gorgeous. “Looking for me?” he asked in a decidedly sure tone. “Had I known you didn’t wish to wait for the wedding night, I’d have given you the room adjoining mine.” Heat rose to her face as she drew her wrapper more tightly about her. A shiver traveled the length of her spine as he took one step in her direction. “I came for a book.” “A book?” He stopped his forward advance and eyed her carefully. She wished the fire lit the room more. Without affording her the 38
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look in his eyes, she couldn’t decipher his thoughts. Cray never seemed to say exactly what was on his mind but had a way with turning her around, sending her running with her tail between her legs. She found her tongue. “Yes, a book. I couldn’t sleep and thought if I could read, maybe—” “Your thoughts of me would go away?” One side of his mouth curved up, showing a hint of the flawless white teeth beneath. “How arrogant of you to think my thoughts only turn to you.” Ariel tilted her chin slightly upwards, hoping she looked more sure of herself than she felt. “So you admit you think about me?” He emptied the contents of his glass in one swallow, then took another step in her direction. “I…what? How in the world did you ever come to that conclusion?” “You just said your thoughts don’t only contain me. Which clearly states, once in awhile, you must think about me.” “Clever, but who says my thoughts of you aren’t of the murderous nature?” Ariel took one step in retreat, feeling the closed door at her back. She cursed herself for thinking to close it. “Maybe, but I won’t worry until the vows are said.” The corners of his eyes turned up in merriment as he continued to close the gap between them in a slow, deliberate gait. “Why would you not fear finding death before we marry? Are you so confident in your abilities to protect yourself from me?” “If you decide to take my life before we are wed, this…,” his arm swept the room, “would be lost to you.” “Who says I want any of this?” “Wasn’t that the whole reason for your scheme? Or doesn’t my home compare to what you thought I’d own, knowing C.W.’s wealth?” Cray stood inches from her, glaring down on her. The muscles of his upper-arm tensed as he stood so close. She was afraid he might hurt her should he take hold of her. “I never wanted your money.” Ariel had to tilt her head back to 39
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look into his eyes. “Then what was your motivation in being in my bed? What do you want from me, Ariel?” “Want from you?” she repeated on a slight breath of air. Her knees shook with the need to give way. She feared she might collapse at his feet. As though sensing her thoughts, his hands grasped her shoulders, pinning her to cool wooden door. “Yes, sweetness, what is it you want from me if it isn’t my money? Dare I hope it’s me?” His breath fanned her face like a feather, the smell of whiskey evident, but not overwhelming. “I…you…it’s not what you think.” Ariel’s gaze traveled to his lips, still damp from the liquor. Her tongue darted out, moistening her own suddenly dry lips. “Then tell me, Ariel. Tell me what it is you want from me.” His lips descended on hers, touching yet not taking. “Could you possibly want this?” His lips lightly tasted of hers, leaving her breathless, gasping. “Please,” she pleaded. “Please what?” he whispered, a husky quality taking over the timbre of his voice. “I’d be happy to oblige. All you need do is ask.” Cray’s mouth took hers, slanting over her lips, consuming her in a searing heat more fiery than the flames dancing behind them. One hand anchored the base of her head while the other claimed the small of her back, holding her flush against him. His tongue swept the sealed line of her mouth begging for entry. Ariel gasped, giving him the small lead he sought and he thrust his tongue deeply within, sweeping the sensitive flesh. Her mind numbed to all but the man before her, holding her within his embrace. He was her only thread to reality and she feared if it snapped, she would find herself spiraling downward to a fate she knew nothing of. Cray moved his hand lower to her derriere, drawing her tightly against him. The feel of his arousal lying intimately against her sent the juncture of her thighs pulsing in a mind-numbing ache. Oh God, what 40
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was she doing? His tongue continued its mating as the hand anchoring her head traveled to her breast, encompassing it. Before desire had a chance to flicker inside her, fear and apprehension doused her like a bucket of cold water as her hands pushed relentlessly at his unmoving chest. She tore her mouth free of his. “Get away from me,” Ariel screamed in fright. Her body quivered. “What the hell?” Cray released her, staring down at her, confusion clearly written within the depths of his eyes. Ariel held her hands out in front of her as though to ward off an inevitable evil. “Please,” her voice trembled. “Don’t.” She turned and grasped the knob, yanking the door hastily open and took flight from the study, down the hall and up the stairs as her gown wrapped around her ankles, threatening to send her sprawling across the floor. Oh God, what was she to do?
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CHAPTER 5
Anger disseminated through Cray’s body like a growing disease, taut from need, taut from rage. What on earth was he to do? Not only did he have an infuriating wife-to-be at home to contend with, he would now have to deal with an over-active little brother if Cliff held true to his promise and wired his mother. Damn, how the hell did he get into these situations? Philandering came to immediate mind. Had it not been for his want of a woman, this whole scheme of events wouldn’t be happening to him. But, no, he had to have a whore in Bridgeport only to find a lady in his bed instead. How the hell was he to know the difference? It wasn’t as if Ariel resisted his advances. If he recalled right, she had wanted him as much as he did her. Cray walked over to the brass railing of the balcony, looking down upon the woman singing on stage. His hands made tight fists over the gleaming metal, whitening his knuckles. What was he supposed to tell Missy? How do you tell one’s liaison you are getting married in a few 42
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short months? Knowing her as he did, she would certainly not take the news well. Melissa Ward was a woman of infinite beauty; one men dreamed about, not actually had. And she was solely his. Cray knew had he offered marriage, she would have accepted readily. But she never pursued the issue, knowing he wasn’t the sort to settle for one woman, nor would he ever. As a matter of fact, when together, the subject of marriage was never broached. Her auburn hair cascaded down her back to her waist in a waterfall, adorned with ribbons of white and gold. Her high cheekbones bore a light dusting of rouge while her lips were painted a ruby-red. A warming heat traveled up his body at the thought of what those lips had accomplished over the last two years of employment for him. Never had he met a woman more skilled in the art of loving. He suddenly scolded himself for not having the insight to offer her marriage. Had he been married before his arrival in Bridgeport, the little witch and her mother’s scheme would have gone off without purchase. You couldn’t back a man into the corner and force upon him what he already had. A smile crossed his face. Then it would have been Ariel who shared his bed as mistress and not the other way around. He knew she was something he would have willingly enjoyed had it not been for the lies separating them. “The show about over?” Matt asked as he exited the office located on the top floor of The Golden Lion. The luxurious office was the final addition to the two-year-old establishment. When Cray wasn’t in attendance, Matt made use of his room. Besides having a massive oak desk and leather chair, it sported a large, well-padded sofa used for many purposes. And well used it was. “Yes.” Cray’s gaze stayed locked on the fiery-haired beauty. She wore a white accordion styled corset shot through with gold threads, edged with fur. A sheer, white skirting fell from the bottom of the garment, giving hint to long slender legs beneath—the kind men 43
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dreamed of having wrapped about their waists. Matt stood beside him, looking down upon the gaming tables. Everything in the building had been painted white, trimmed with gold. Large crystal chandeliers sent light bouncing from the pale colored walls. The tables, the chairs, the long bar, all white accented with gold or brass. Large mirrors decorated the walls, giving the room an even larger appearance. This was by far the most elaborate gaming hall Cray owned, serving only the elite. Four golden lions sat about the room, giving the establishment its name, all bedecking a woman dressed in near the same fashion as the one gracing the stage, wearing dainty white slippers upon their feet. Cray handpicked each beauty himself as The Golden Lion was famous for its angelic women, though none were as enchanting as Melissa, or as skilled. “She captivates the crowd,” Matt said, noting the obvious path of Cray’s thoughts. “She draws a gathering nightly.” Cray’s gaze swept the room filled with men dressed to the height of fashion. He knew many of them came just to see Melissa perform. He, too, had been bewitched the moment he spotted her up the coast, singing in a small tavern. Missy’s voice was flawless, weaving a spell around him the moment he stepped foot into the seedy place. Cray knew he had to have her. He offered her a large sum to work for him and never once regretting his spontaneous action. “What will you do with her?” Matt asked, drawing Cray’s attention. His eyes narrowed, looking into the blue orbs guilty of enrapturing their own fair share of women. Did Matt actually think he would give up such a splendor? Cray chuckled. “Forget it. Not in a million years.” Matt’s eyes widened as though stung by Cray’s astute observation. “I don’t have the slightest notion of what you’re talking about.” “The hell you don’t.” Cray shook his head, cocking one side of his mouth upward. He gave Matt his back and walked to a custom-made 44
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booth. The curved piece seated four, allowing the occupants an unobstructed view of the happenings of the room below. A full bottle of Cray’s favorite bourbon sat atop the table flanked by two glasses. Cray picked up the bottle and poured himself a half glass of the amber liquid before turning back to Matt, whose grin matched his ever-present merriment. “You think because I’m getting married that I’ll allow you Missy. Fat chance.” He tipped back the glass, taking a long pull on the liquor. Matt placed his palm over his heart in feigned shock. “You wound me. But I must ask. What about the beautiful woman waiting at home for you?” “I highly doubt she’s waiting for me. But what about her? Bourbon?” Cray held out the bottle to Matt. He walked over to Cray, grasped the bottle and poured himself a glassful. Cray took off his black jacket, laid it across the back of the booth and took a seat, watching the crowds below. The clicking sound of the small metal ball echoed about the room as the roulette wheel once more spun, chancing to steal small fortunes from those daring enough to play. Cards slapped against the surface of the tables and the games began anew following the evening’s show. His women filtered about the room, standing behind well thought out choices of the wealthy, receiving rewards in the way of money for becoming a good-luck charm to those who won small amounts from his tables. “I don’t suppose Miss Montgomery knows what it is you do for a living.” Matt swirled the liquid about his glass before taking it to his lips. “What makes you think she doesn’t?” Cray’s brows drew together, turning his attention back to the man he had shared many such nights with. “Intuition. She seems feisty. I admire that in a woman. After all, she 45
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put you in your place this afternoon.” “No need to remind me.” Cray tossed back the remaining contents of his glass. “I just think if she knew—” “What?” Cray chuckled, feeling none of the humor. “You thought that Ariel could control me? Tell me what I should do for a living? That will be the day any woman dictates to me what I should do. You really humor me, Matt.” The enchantress from the stage stepped onto the balcony, making her way to the booth where Matt and Cray sat. The smile playing on her face told Cray where her thoughts led and tonight he was only too happy to oblige. Certainly with her expertise, she would rid Cray of his haunting thoughts of the woman he left behind at home. Eyes of blue only enhanced by the deep blue of the gown she wore to the dining table. Hair so pale in color, it appeared to have light of its own as the candles reflected off the shimmering strands. Cray wanted nothing more than to loosen the pins and surrender his fingers to the silken folds. Missy slid into the booth beside Cray, leaving no room between them as she cuddled against his arm. Her mouth pouted seductively as she looked at Cray, hunger evident in the mahogany depths. “I wondered if you were going to come by tonight. Matt said you might not.” Cray gave Matt an acrimonious look meant to send him from the balcony for interfering, but he remained unmoved, a witless grin still plastered to his face. Christ, Cray thought, what in the world did he do to deserve this? “Matt knows nothing of my whereabouts,” Cray finally supplied. “You think I tell him everything I do?” “You do,” Matt interrupted earning him another scathing look. He shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms heavenward. “All right, I’ll mind my own business.” 46
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“That would be the day,” Cray mumbled. “Isn’t there some little lady needing your attentions?” “Nope, not tonight. I’m all yours.” “Gee, how did I get so lucky?” Cray poured himself another bourbon, trying desperately to forget the pompous ass sitting beside him as well as his recurring thoughts of the woman Matt decided to champion, Ariel. With his luck, had he any notion of taking the voluptuous tease beside him into his office, Matt would have something to say about that as well. “What would Miss Montgomery—” Cray whirled on Matt. Tension flowed through his veins, forgetting the temptress at his side, who had already worked the buttons from his waistcoat free and now toyed with those on his shirt. “For God’s sake, Matt. What the hell is your fascination with my future wife?” The hands on his shirtfront stilled as he realized his mistake immediately. Confusion spanned Missy’s face. “You’re getting married?” her voice trembled. “When did you plan to tell me?” Cray’s gaze strayed from her to Matt who was clearly enjoying his plight. A smile stretched across Matt’s face as he leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, Cray, do tell. When were you planning to tell Missy about Miss Montgomery?” “Who is Miss Montgomery?” Her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers of fire at Cray. If he had any smarts at all, he would leave the two to tend to the mess and return home. After all, he owed no one an explanation of how he led his life. Instead, he tenderly took hold of Missy’s shoulders, seeing the mist form in her eyes. “Miss Montgomery and I are to be married in three months. I meant to tell you.” He wanted to soften the blow, cause her little pain. “When?” she nearly roared in mock humor. “After the blessed ceremony?” 47
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“Calm down, Missy.” Cray’s eyes strayed to the room below, noting their commotion was drawing more than a few prying eyes. “Let’s go to my office and talk about this in a calm manner.” “Who’s calm? I sure in the hell am not.” Matt winced at her use of profanity, supplying Cray with a sympathetic look. Hell, he should haul Matt’s arrogant ass outside and beat the smug bastard to a pulp. “Damn it to hell,” Cray finally said. “Get in my office. And you,” he pointed to the man trying his best to go unnoticed, “better make yourself real busy before I get back.” “I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.” Matt winked at him as Missy stormed off to the room down the hall. “Go easy on her.” “You really are a son of a bitch. You know that, Matt?” Cray gritted between clenched teeth, feeling the ache clear to his temple. Placing two fingers there, he let out a slow breath. “So you’ve told me.” Matt grinned. “Then why the hell do I put up with you? Answer me that.” “I told you, no one else would—” “Put up with me,” he finished. Not able to take Matt’s amusement a moment longer, Cray followed the vision in white through the door of his office, closing it behind him. Missy stood with her back to him, staring out the window that emptied into an alley behind, two stories up. Cray walked up behind her, placing his arms about her waist, cradling her back to his chest. Within his arms, she held her body stiff, unyielding. He heard, before saw, the tears falling down her cheeks as she hiccoughed into the darkness of the room. The only thing lighting the space was a fire left burning in the hearth. “Don’t cry,” he whispered into her ear. “I never meant to hurt you.” “No?” she laughed nervously, tearing herself free of his grasp. “You never meant to marry me though, did you?” “No.” He rubbed his temples. Damn this headache. How would he 48
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ever get her to understand? “But you knew that.” “I knew you never wanted to marry, Cray.” Missy walked over to the desk’s top and lit the lantern, flooding the room with warm light. “Look at me, Cray. Can you tell me you never want this again?” “No,” he answered honestly. “So what are you telling me? You want me for your mistress?” She said the last word with such distaste, Cray felt the heel for making her even draw such a conclusion. Hell, when it came right down to it, he didn’t want her to be his mistress. She had always been the one he turned to, the one he craved. Now, he found himself hungering over another: someone whose frame was slight in weight, whose eyes reminded him of warm summer days, whose hair shown silver. “No, I don’t want you to be my mistress,” he mumbled, walking to the fireplace, staring into the flames, a palm resting on the mantel. “You’re too good for that.” His vision filled with Ariel in her white night-wrapper; his senses abundant with the feel of her against him, yielding to his starving lips. His loins grew heavy with every recurring thought of her. What the hell was he going to do? Even as beautiful as Missy was, it did little to rid his thoughts of the woman haunting them. “Are you telling me this is over?” she asked in a small trembling voice. Cray knew she already had predicted the outcome of his answer. He needn’t tell her, but felt he had to. Missy deserved that much. She deserved much more for giving him the last two years of her life. “Yes. I can’t tell you why. I can’t understand it myself. But I can’t continue as we have. I’m sorry.” And he was. He hated himself more in this one moment than he did through the entire miserable war. Cray turned to look at Missy, who held herself together surprisingly well. Though, had he expected anything different from her? She was one of the strongest women he’d ever laid eyes on. He knew she would 49
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survive this, probably more so than he. “Is she beautiful?” she asked, swiping a tear away with her hand. “Yes.” He chuckled. “God, yes.” “What does she look like?” Cray knew she needed a vision of what the woman taking her place looked like. He stared back at the orange flames flickering up the chimney. “She’s shorter than you, lighter in frame…” He glanced into space, giving her a vivid description of the woman who ran from his arms earlier tonight. “…elegant, yet she seems to hide her true self.” “How so?” “Like a part of her is locked so far away, I’m not even sure she’s aware it’s missing. Someplace I want to find, to unlock the mystery of her.” “You speak as though you’re falling in love with her.” Cray grinned. Missy normally could read him better than anyone. How could she be so wrong where Ariel was concerned? “You couldn’t be farther from the truth. I despise the woman and her conniving little mother. You were right when you said you thought I never wanted to marry. I don’t. But they found my Achilles heel.” “They…you mean this woman and her mother?” “Yes.” Cray chuckled again. “They brought me down in one fall. Now, I’m to marry this woman in three months and I can’t stand to be in the same room with her.” “But you sounded as though you desire her.” Missy understood him all too well. “I desire her all right. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about bedding her. I’m just in fear of strangling her in the act.” Missy approached him, brushed a stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that don’t you?” “Yes.” “Because I love you, Craylen Rollins, I’m willing to walk away 50
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from you and cause you no further pain. Your soul is tortured. This woman better pray she takes care of you or she’ll have me to answer to.” Cray leaned down, kissing her fully upon the lips. Her hands entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck, returning his kiss with love. Releasing her, he said, “I’ll always hold a special spot in my heart for you.” “Yeah, yeah.” She giggled, patting his backside. “Just you don’t forget me.” “How could I when I’ll see you nightly?” “Remember what it is you’re losing, Craylen.” “My loss, I assure you.” Cray held out an elbow to escort her out of the office and into the club where she was due to return to the stage.
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CHAPTER 6
The smell of salt hung heavy in the air and clung to her face, exposed to the elements, as a cool breeze blew in off the Atlantic not far away. Ariel walked along the dormant flowerbeds in the garden residing behind the grand house. A light snow dusted the ground. She pulled her rose-colored jacket snugly around her, attempting to keep out the chill winds. Her matching walking dress whipped about her ankles, hampering her forward movement as she continued on her way. The gloves on her fingers kept the cold from biting into her bones. A week had passed since her arrival, and besides the first day, she had seen little of her future husband. He had stopped taking the evening meals with her and her mother, obviously not wanting to be in their company. But, could she blame him? His life had been turned upside down; all because of her and her conniving mother, though she had still to figure out the entire scheme she was a party to. Her mother left Ariel in the company of her maid two days ago, when she made a trip into Absecon, following the departure of 52
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Craylen’s brother, Clifford. She told Ariel she must visit the Rollins’ vast estate and see to the plans of the upcoming wedding. Every day brought Ariel closer to her doom. She was forced to live a life married to a man who much despised her. The worst of it was, she really couldn’t fault Cray for the way he felt toward her. Ariel only wished, one day, he would come to realize how little she had to do with what occurred in Bridgeport. Each day had become a struggle to her, another obstacle to cross. Had it not been for the presence of Tina to occupy her ever-rolling thoughts, Ariel knew she wouldn’t survive each battle, let alone the war. She found a wooden bench, dusted off the seat and sat, staring blindly into the distance, not really seeing the channel of water that separated Atlantic City from the rest of New Jersey. A sigh escaped her as she toyed with the braid binding the edge of her jacket. Tanner. His name weighed heavy, feeling the ache in her chest. Each day she tried harder and harder not to think of the proud young man she left behind. Did he think of her? Tears welled in her eyes, one slipping past her lashes only to fall down her cold, chapped cheek. “Should I pity the woman whose face produces the tear? Or dare I commiserate with the man who the tear is for?” A deep voice came from her left. She quickly swiped away the offensive droplet with the back of her gloved hand, angry for being caught in a weakened moment. “You were spying on me?” “Don’t flatter yourself, Ariel. I don’t give a fig what you do with your time as long as it doesn’t include me.” Vapors rose from Cray’s breath, disappearing into the air. A sarcastic grin edged his handsome features. Stiffening her spine as well as her self-restraint, Ariel wouldn’t give into his arrogance and allow him to see the effect his presence truly had on her. “Then why bother me at all with your company now?” 53
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Tiny crow’s feet appeared as his eyes turned up in merriment. “Don’t fool yourself into believing I came out here to be in your presence. I was merely taking a stroll. The house seems suddenly quiet due to the absence of your overbearing mother.” Ariel covered her mouth, wanting to stop the giggles as they erupted, catching the puzzled look on Cray’s face at her newly found humor. “I fear we are actually in agreement to something.” Cray dusted off a spot on the bench beside her with a bare hand, and took a seat. “And what might that be?” She looked to the ground, not wanting Cray to see her uneasiness. “That the house is suddenly quiet due to Mother’s absence.” “Here I thought you might have agreed she’s quite overbearing.” Cray smiled, his voice sounding low within his chest, yet light in humor. Ariel giggled again. “That too.” Cray turned his gaze upon her. Ariel could feel it the moment he did, as though his hand and not just his eyes had caressed her face. Drawn to his eyes like a moth to flames, she boldly turned and met his gaze. The merriment left his eyes as something she couldn’t yet name consumed the depths. She knew Cray desired her as she did him, but deeper than the longing, laid more. Had she not known his true strength, she might be tempted to believe his soul haunted by some unknown recurrent, for it wasn’t the first time she’d seen a glimpse of disturbance in his eyes. He touched a finger to her lips. “Your smile is quite becoming. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it before.” She turned her gaze from him to the snow beneath her walking shoes. “I haven’t had much to smile about these past few months.” “I would think the opposite to be true.” The gaiety left his voice and the man she first met seemed to reappear. “I would think you would be ecstatic at all you’ve accomplished.” “If you only knew how far from the truth you are.” 54
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Cray placed a finger beneath her chin and brought her gaze up to meet his. “Then, why?” She knew he needed to hear the truth, deserved it, to know why she could never love him. “Why did you find me in your bed?” She narrowed her eyes at him. How much of her soul dare she reveal? How much would he actually believe? “It’s a place to start.” She stared at Cray for long moments, wrestling with fiends after her own soul. Dare she confide in him and risk pushing him away forever? “I don’t know how I came to be in your bed, Mr. Rollins,” she finally confessed. “You can trust that much is the truth.” Suspicion crossed his gaze, as he eyed her carefully. “If you’re being totally honest with me, then how did you get into my bed and not your own?” Ariel let out a sigh and looked into the distance. “After supper, I became drowsy. Maybe, I had too much wine. I don’t know, nor do I remember. My mother’s maid, Vanessa, mistakenly put me there, tucking me in. I had no idea the bed belonged to you or that you expected anyone to be there.” Cray paused as though weighing the believability of her story. Would she trust his words if their roles were reversed? He thought she was out to steal his wealth, so why would he credit her story. “Look at me,” he requested and Ariel obliged. “Why did you respond to me if you didn’t expect me in your bed?” Tears welled in her eyes, falling anew. “I thought you were a dream…someone I used to know.” “Tanner?” His lion’s eyes narrowed. Ariel gasped, wondering how he could have possibly known. “Who told you about him?” she asked, suddenly fearing he discovered the portrait hidden beneath her pillow. “You called me Tanner the night I nearly made love to you.” Relief washed over her like the winds sweeping through the mountaintops. 55
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“Need I worry about him? A liaison of yours, perhaps?” “If you’re asking have I slept with him—the answer is no.” “Good.” “Why?” She gnawed on her lower-lip. “Then if I ever happen to meet him, I can allow him to live. If anyone has taken what is my right to claim, Ariel, trust that I will take his life. Is there anyone walking this earth I should worry about?” Her father’s luminous figure, materialized in her mind. “No,” she said on a shaken voice, knowing the accuracy to her statement. After all, he had said “walking this earth.” She could never bear to tell him the whole truth; her shame ran too deep. “Then come our wedding night, you will be mine.” He brushed the back of his fingers across her cold cheek, searing it in heat. “There will be no turning back. If you have second thoughts, you better exercise them before the vows are said. For once you say the words I do, I will make you solely mine, and what is mine, no man will take. I will never share you. Do I make myself clear?” Mesmerized by his gaze, it took moments for her to realize he waited for her answer. Finally, she whispered, “Yes,” in a meek voice, one full of fear, one full of anticipation. * * * As though to seal his promise to her, Cray gathered her in his arms and settled his lips upon hers. What was meant to show possession, turned quickly into need. Drawing from the welcoming passion he felt nights back in his study, the exact reason he sought to avoid her, his lips supped from hers. Cray’s tongue swept the line of her lips only to be invited inside. Ariel’s fingers entangled in the hair at his nape as Cray held her tightly within his embrace, his tongue sweeping the satiny flesh of her mouth. He groaned from the coy, unschooled touch of her tongue as she responded to him. His mind numbed to all but the lady held within his arms as he thrust deeper, doing only as his body craved to do. His 56
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groin tightened. His loins throbbed. “Cray?” A voice deeper than his own came from somewhere in the mist of reality. Like a bucket of cold water, the vision of his little brother broke through his ardor. “Henry? Christ!” Cray cursed, breaking his hold on Ariel. He ran two passion-fevered hands through his unkempt hair. Perfect. His youngest sibling had disastrous timing as always. Just perfect. * * * Ariel glanced at the shorter man, grateful for his interruption, flushed for being caught in yet another compromising position. Her ears heated with her growing discomfiture. Cray rose from his position beside her and embraced the stocky man. He stood a few inches shorter than Cray, but Ariel guessed Henry out-weighed him by a few pounds. His black hair was cut close to his head, his brown eyes so dark, Ariel wondered if he even had pupils. Aside from his matching build, Ariel would never have guessed he was related to Cray at all. “Blazes, Craylen.” Henry released Cray and walked over to the bench Ariel sat upon. “I heard she was beautiful. But, my God, no one warned me she was this stunning.” “Watch your language, little brother. I’ll not have you being blasphemous.” “And you never are?” One black brow rose in challenge. “But you’re too young.” Cray crossed his arms across his chest, staring at the other man, love evident in his eyes. “I’m old enough,” Henry growled. A serious look crossed his face as his brows came together, causing Ariel to wonder where one brow began and the other ended. “Sixteen is not old,” Cray grumbled. “Sixteen?” Ariel gasped. “You can’t be serious. This man could grow a full beard had he wanted to.” 57
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“He developed early, unfortunately for us. Now, we have our hands full.” Cray looked from Ariel to Henry, placing a finger to his lips. “He thinks because he looks like a man and the women find him charming as they do, that he’s a man and not still a boy.” “A boy?” Henry laughed off the idea. “Only a man can accomplish the things I have.” “Let’s just hope you don’t wind up with a slew of little Rollinses.” Henry only grinned to Cray’s retort. Obviously, Cray had been joking. Wasn’t he? A boy of sixteen wouldn’t be…no, but of course not. Cray returned his gaze to Ariel. The merriment she saw moments ago from chiding his brother left his eyes as his expression hardened. “Henry, I’d like you to meet my wife-to-be, Ariel Montgomery.” Henry grasped her hand, taking it to his lips. “Charmed,” he muttered over her palm, his breath spanning its surface. Ariel giggled. She saw Cray’s eyes grow possessive, but didn’t care one lick as to what he thought. She liked this man—boy, Cray called his brother. “I’m afraid you’ll catch a chill, my dear.” Henry held out an elbow to Ariel. “May I escort you to the parlor where you can warm your cold bones?” Glancing at Cray, Ariel saw his scowl. Amused to find herself rattling his cage for once, she accepted the offered arm. “I’d be delighted.” Ariel stood and walked with Henry to the front of the house, leaving Cray to fend for himself. She knew he followed, hearing his humph come from somewhere behind her. But she didn’t dare look back, for fear she might find herself in a fit of giggles over his agitated expression. She took a seat on the yellow-brocade settee once in the double parlor as Henry sat beside her. Cray walked to the hearth, stoking the fire before turning his accusing gaze on the two. 58
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“For God’s sake, Henry. Must you make a pest of yourself? Give Ariel some room to breath,” he grumbled. Ariel looked about the vast room, astonished by its richness. She had been in the room before, but this was the first she had really looked about. A large portrait of Cray’s mother hung over the mantel flanked by two oriental vases. In the center of the room sat an ornately carved cherry-wood table topped with marble while two gilded picture frames sat on top beside an empty white flower vase. A golden chandelier hung from each parlor, sporting eight candles. A mirror, hanging from floor to ceiling, hung on opposite sides of the house flanked by gold-brocade dressed windows, giving the double parlor a larger appearance as the candles reflected in the mirrors. Two large sliding doors left open could be pulled closed to divide the parlor into two equal halves. Potted plants decorated both rooms. “I really don’t mind, Mr. Rollins.” Ariel smiled at the young man beside her. “Wonderful, my future-wife has taken a liking to the most uncontrollable member of my family.” Cray turned his attention to Henry who watched Ariel with open admiration. “Henry, would you please see to Ariel’s jacket? Place it on the coat tree in the entrance way.” “Sir?” Edward entered the parlor. “May I assist you with your outer garments?” “Perfect timing as usual, Edward.” Henry smiled. “By all means.” “Thank you, sir.” Edward took the jackets. “Is there anything else I can get you?” “See to a room for Henry, I believe he’s going to be staying with us for a spell,” Cray told the stately butler. “Sir?” A worried look crossed Edward’s features. “I know.” Cray chuckled. “The last time Henry graced us with his presence cost us a pretty penny in repairs. He is sixteen now and will assure us to be on his best behavior.” 59
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Henry placed a hand to his chest, gasping as though wounded. “I wouldn’t dream of being a pain in the—” “Watch yourself,” Cray warned. “Edward, see that a tray of tea and coffee is brought in to warm us.” “Certainly.” Edward turned on his heel and left the room. “How long are you staying?” Cray asked Henry. “As long as it takes.” He grinned, showing his even white teeth for the first time. Ariel thought him handsome in a rugged sort of way. Someday, he will literally charm the skirts off many a lady. “For what?” Cray narrowed an eye in his direction. “Mother informed me that the two of you have differences to work out. But by the looks of things upon my arrival, you’re already well on your way,” he finished with another heart stopping grin. How could anyone not love the young man? “So you haven’t said how long you’re staying. As long as it takes for what?” Ariel could hear the agitation creep into the tone of Cray’s voice. “Until the two of you have settled your differences.” Cray struck his brow with the heel of his palm. “Marvelous. Just marvelous.”
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CHAPTER 7
“Mr. Rollins,” Adelaine cooed as she made her way into his vast office, taken by surprise by its lavish furnishings. Certainly a man of his ilk would sport such extravagant treasures, but what lay before her came as quite a surprise. The office was like none she had seen before, at least not one belonging to a man. The walls were papered with large roses entwined with greenery. Vases containing flowers of the same sat about the room, the scent nearly overpowering. A pale-green drape, tied to one side of the window, allowed the room a light and airy appearance. A high-backed leather chair sat behind a large oak desk as two smaller floral-upholstered chairs were located to the front. “Mrs. Montgomery.” Cliff rose from his position behind the desk, extending a hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Adelaine offered her hand, which he lightly grasped, taking it to his lips. His mouth lingered on her flesh a bit longer than called for, sending gooseflesh popping across her limbs in anticipation. If she had 61
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read his subtle messages correctly, she would have him in her bed by week’s end. No one would know about the affair, therefore note she was old enough to be his mother. Retrieving her hand, Adelaine smoothed the hair above her ear, tucked into a loose coiffure. “I was visiting with your mother and father, going over the details of the upcoming wedding, and I thought I might pay you a visit before returning to Atlantic City.” “I’m flattered you took the time. Please, have a seat.” His hand indicated a wine, paisley-printed sofa situated along one wall, opposite a roaring fire in the brass adorned hearth. “I’ll ask my secretary to bring us some coffee and see to it that we can visit for a bit without any interruptions.” Adelaine sat, careful to spread her gown across the fabric of the sofa, watching Cliff all the while out of the corner of her eye. His height nearly matched the frame of the door, out doing her by more than a head and a half. His towering presence overwhelmed her senses as an answering warmth spread through her body like freshly churned butter on a biscuit hot from the oven. Cliff turned from the door, checked his appearance in the gilded mirror hanging on the wall, then gave Adelaine his undivided attention. A devilish smile spread across his handsome features, but the sexual promise lying within the depths of his eyes was all the reassurance Adelaine required. Craylen may outweigh Clifford by several pounds, but she always preferred her men on the lean side. He was necessary to reawaken the desires she thought long dead. Since leaving behind her paramour of the last five years, Owen McCabe, she had felt uncommonly alone if not neglected. Clifford took a seat on the sofa beside her, careful not to sit on her silk dress, and placed an arm across the back. His secretary entered the office carrying a tray of fresh coffee in an elegant porcelain pot with matching cups. The rich aroma assailed Adelaine’s senses. “Clear my schedule, sending my deepest regrets. See that I’m not 62
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disturbed for the next hour,” Cliff told his secretary, who nodded and closed the door securely behind her. He turned his gaze, filled with a craving Adelaine would be more than happy to assuage, on her. “I’m delighted you chose to spend some of your precious time in my company.” “Time that would be well spent, I assure you.” Adelaine grinned, feeling the beginnings of desire filter through her blood. “You’re certainly a beautiful woman. I would think you would have better things to do with your time, like spending it with Mr. Montgomery.” She knew he baited her, wanted to know if there was anyone in her life. Not that anyone would stop her from taking what she wanted. And Clifford Rollins was exactly what she sought at the moment. “Mr. Montgomery is no longer with the living.” “I’m sorry.” Cliff lowered his brown eyes. “Don’t be.” She toyed with the folds on her dress, wanting to appear as though she mourned a bit. After all, she couldn’t allow him to see a heart long ago iced over. “He’s been gone for nearly a year.” “I hope he didn’t suffer long.” “He was murdered.” Adelaine turned her gaze back to the astute gentleman, knowing her words came as a shock. “Murdered?” He said the word with little or no conviction. Could his heart be as cold as hers? All the better for her. Adelaine couldn’t afford the emotional ties of another relationship, her whole reason for leaving behind Owen. “Stabbed. A whore from his past—her husband took his life. I always knew his sins would one day catch up with him.” “My dear woman, what you must have suffered.” “I prefer not to speak of him. That part of my life is now over.” Her eyes narrowed as a smile grew on her face. “I would much rather talk of something interesting. Do you have a lady friend? One I might be tempted to be jealous over?” 63
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Clifford laughed. The hand resting on the back of the sofa moved to the nape of her neck, toying with the few strands of hair slipping from the knot. Adelaine shivered. “I am quite single, my dear. Not one woman could lay claim to me.” Widening her eyes in mock surprise, she placed a hand on the swell of her breast. She had purposefully worn the gown due to the good deal of cleavage sported above the neckline. “I would think the opposite to be true. For such a handsome man as yourself—” “That women would be knocking on my door?” Cliff chuckled. “I admit, because of my wealth, I don’t lack in my choice of women, but few enchant me. Now you, I find myself completely at your mercy.” “Please, Mr. Rollins, you flatter me too much.” “Quite the opposite, my dear. If it wasn’t for the secretary sitting on the other side of the door, I’d show you exactly where my thoughts of you lead to.” Heat rose to her cheeks, though not from embarrassment. Numbness spread through her lower limbs. She tilted her head to the side, giving him a look meant to scold him. “Mr. Rollins!” One side of his lips curled in a lazy grin. “Come now, Adelaine, tell me you didn’t come here for the same purpose. And please, call me Cliff.” “I admit I’m attracted to you, but to so boldly—” “Express your thoughts aloud. Tell me Adelaine…we’re not in the company of others…tell me what it is you really want from me,” Cliff whispered, the tone husky, dripping with sensuality. “A lady never tells.” “Then let me tell you.” He raised one eyebrow, closing the gap between them. “I want what a man and a woman do together once the candles are blown out, but I want them left glowing. I want to see your face when you call out my name.” 64
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“But our ages—” “Matter little to me. You are a woman of infinite beauty and I’ll venture you’re even more beautiful with your clothes off.” His forefinger tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. She knew he wanted to kiss her, knew in certainty he would. The door to the room swung wide, causing them to gape at the opening. His secretary looked apologetic as a man even more handsome than Cliff walked through the door. Adelaine straightened her skirt as she attempted to put room between her and Cliff on the sofa. Cliff remained unmoved as his expression changed oddly. Adelaine didn’t know the newcomer, but it was obvious Cliff’s ire rose due to this man’s sudden presence. The blond-haired gentleman stood slightly shorter, but as lean as Cliff. He looked from her to Cliff, then squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rollins, your secretary told me you were occupied, but I have business that won’t wait.” “Which is?” Cliff’s brow rose. “A client we need to discuss privately.” He pulled at the cuffs of his shirt extending from his brown tweed jacket. By the way he dressed, Adelaine guessed him to have wealth of some sort. “Very well,” Cliff said, turning to Adelaine. “We will continue this at a later date.” “Of course, we will.” Adelaine grinned. Cliff rose from the sofa extending his hand to help her to her feet. She, again, looked at the man standing a few feet away. “Excuse me, Mrs. Montgomery, for not introducing you. This is my protégé, Davon Alexander.” Adelaine held out her hand to the dashing gentleman. He brought the back to his lips. She smiled. “Mr. Alexander.” “Mrs. Montgomery, I’m held spellbound.” Adelaine giggled over the attention. Maybe he, too, could be a conquest once she became bored with Craylen’s brother. After all, who was she to turn away flattery. She turned to Clifford. “Thank you for 65
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your words of…wisdom. I count on your complete discretion.” “But of course.” Cliff smiled. “I’d see you to the door, but…” “No need, Mr. Rollins. I’m capable of finding my way out. Mr. Alexander,” Adelaine nodded, turned and exited the room. * * * Ariel sat at her dressing table, gowned in nothing but a thin chemise, pulling a brush through her long hair. A smile crossed her face, remembering the last few days spent on the estate. Henry had been absolutely dashing, catering to her at every turn. She hadn’t missed the possessive looks Cray gave her or the way he always made himself available. Before the arrival of his little brother, Craylen treated her as though she weren’t even there. As a matter of fact, he paid her no attention at all. Now, he ate every meal with them and rose well before the noon hour. Ariel had to admit, she was growing accustomed to his overwhelming presence and looked forward to the day they might actually become friends. She wished he would laugh and joke with her as he did with his brother, to look upon her once with the same affection he did Henry. She released a sigh and laid the brush atop the table. Standing, she walked to the side of her bed where her night-rail laid and grasped the hem of her chemise, sliding it up her thighs when the door to her room crashed off the wall. Ariel gasped, grabbing the night-rail, holding it flush to the thin chemise covering her. “Where the hell is he?” Cray roared, only to stop in his search as his eyes traveled over her barely covered body. A good amount of leg showed from beneath the hem of her undergarment. “Where is who?” Ariel barely managed to voice. Cray blinked twice, then returned his heated gaze to her eyes. He stood unmoving. The muscles of his neck tightened as he clenched his jaw. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and the slight stubble on his 66
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chin. “Dear God in heaven,” he mumbled. “What the hell have I done to deserve this? A man can only be expected to take so much and damn if I’m not reaching my limit.” “Pardon me?” Ariel asked, though she had heard his every word. Cray shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts as well as his vision. His gaze once again traveled over her form, causing an answering heat to creep up her body, surely leaving a trail of red in its wake. Finally, Cray narrowed his eyes and repeated, “Where the hell is he?” “Who?” Ariel drew her brows together. “Henry.” “Your brother? Why would you be looking for him in here?” “Because I’ve searched the house. He’s come up missing. This is the only room left unexamined and he has to be somewhere.” Cray drew his brows together as his mounting irritation replaced the hunger in his eyes. “What has he done to cause you anger?” Ariel asked as she drew her night-rail more securely about her, hoping to shield her further from his inspection, though he had a way of making her feel she wore nothing at all as his eyes caressed her flesh. “What has he done? Ha!” He tipped his head back and roared in false laughter. “What hasn’t little brother done?” “If you’d only calm yourself, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” Cray’s eyes turned up in humor. Surely, he hadn’t meant to mock her. Had he? “Reasonable?” he asked, his voice deep and husky. “Judge for yourself, Ariel. My sweet little brother has cooked a rat. My chef is in an uproar over finding a nice sized rodent baked securely within his soufflé. Apparently, when the chef went to the store room to fetch more supplies, Henry entered the kitchen and deposited a rat in the soufflé.” 67
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“How do you know for sure it was Henry?” Ariel went to his defense. After all, should one not look at all the facts first? “My chef is not in the habit of making those kinds of mistakes. Upon his return to the kitchen, he caught Henry looking into the oven, thinking little of it. Of course until he pulled out the soufflé and a crispy curled tail stuck out the top. Now, our dinner is ruined.” Ariel held her shoulders stiff. She wouldn’t laugh. She couldn’t endanger infuriating Cray further. Certainly, she wouldn’t laugh. Ariel imagined steam rising from Cray’s ears as they reddened in his anger. She wouldn’t…a giggle erupted from her taut throat. Placing her hand over her mouth, she hoped to stifle any more from coming forth. Cray narrowed his eyes at her. She wouldn’t laugh. Of course she wouldn’t. Henry had only cooked a rat—in their soufflé.. Another giggle escaped the confines of her mouth as she coughed to cover the sound. She steeled her jaw—not another titter. Unable to contain it a moment longer, laughter exploded from her as tears rolled from her eyes. Ariel fell to the bed holding her stomach, all the while, Cray holding his stance as well as his anger. Sniffling, bringing her sniggers under control, she looked at Cray who hadn’t moved an inch. “Wait…,” she said in all the seriousness she could muster as Cray turned to head for the door. “I think I smell a rat.” Laughter bowled her over again as an ever so small smile crept up Cray’s face. A chuckle sounded from across the room, drawing both their gazes. Cray walked over to the wardrobe, pulling the doors wide open. There, amongst her good gowns, creasing them all, stood Henry who was peering all the while through the slats on the door. “Still think he’s so innocent, sweetness?” Cray grumbled, pulling Henry from the closet by his shirt’s collar. “Another moment and he’d have seen enough flesh of yours to draw an artist’s impression of. Still smell a rat?” Ariel pulled the quilt gracing the bed about her body, feeling more 68
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exposed than before. She stared in awe, not saying a word. Cray escorted his brother to the door. “I’ll see you in my study,” he told Henry before closing the door and advancing on Ariel. “Have you no more sense than displaying yourself in front of my little brother?” he asked angrily. Ariel sat up on her knees, bringing them only a nose width apart. “And how was I to know Henry was in the habit of hiding in wardrobes?” She pulled at the quilt, attempting to conceal herself from his view. His eyes traveled to the swell of her breasts, barely concealed by the thin fabric of her undergarment or the quilt that hardly covered her due to the fact she kneeled on the coverlet. Cray reached out a hand, placing it on the small of her back, pulling her flush against his taut body. Ariel knew he held tight to his emotions as his eyes iced over, boring into hers. She stiffened her spine. “Maybe you ought to check from now on, knowing the full length my brother’s mischief goes,” he warned in a voice edged by steel. “Maybe I should.” She glared back. “But what are you so afraid of? You don’t want me. Why would you care?” “My brother is only sixteen years old,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “You said yourself he may have a slew of little Rollinses. So why are you so afraid of him seeing what he has already obviously seen?” Ariel knew she provoked him, but she wanted a response from Cray, one that proved he desired her. He grasped the quilt within his fist, yanking it down her body, leaving nothing but the thin chemise hiding her from his view. As she raised her hands to shield herself, he grasped her wrists, holding them to her sides. Cray’s eyes boldly roamed over her breasts to the juncture of her thighs, where they stayed momentarily before rising to meet her gaze. Ariel refused to give in to his threatening form and boldly held his eyes. 69
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“He hasn’t seen this.” His tone grew deep. His eyes became hauntingly possessive. “Nor will he.” He pulled the quilt back up, concealing her. “And I suggest you keep it from my view also.” “Am I so distasteful?” Hot tears spilled from her lashes. “Don’t ask for what you cannot give, sweetness.” His eyes almost looked evil as he grinned at her. Her body shook as she pulled the cover tightly around her. “You are far from repulsive. If you know what’s good for you, you’d keep your body concealed until the day we become man and wife. Then, not even a band of train robbers can keep me from claiming what’s mine.” Clay turned and stormed from the room. Ariel stared at the closed door for what seemed eternity after he exited the room, leaving her to sort her desires and thoughts. How could he hate her so much, yet desire her so? She was in fear of losing her soul once he claimed what he sought, then seeing her to her grave once he found her most guarded secret.
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CHAPTER 8
The walls were closing in on him. Hell, Cray never thought the day would come when this house would give him a feeling of being trapped. He’d had it built so space was the objective. After being in the war and seeing the inside of a prison camp, he never wanted to feel closed in again. He’d been damn lucky to survive. Cray’s view on humanity had been severely blackened due to the Civil War. How could people of the same country, the same bloodlines—just opposing sides—treat another with such little regard? Men died daily in the encampments, some from diseases passed from one to the other due to the overcrowding, while yet others died of starvation. Then there were men like Samuel…tears flooded Cray’s eyes. He drew his hands down his face to keep the visions from remaining. In the last few years, he had become an expert at not feeling. Sometimes life passed by much smoother when there was no emotional involvement, the way he preferred. He had mastered the art 71
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of becoming detached from humanity. Now, all with the arrival of the small woman upstairs, the wall he so carefully built around himself crumbled, brick by brick. No longer was he unfeeling. Desire burned in him like never before. Anger festered within his veins on a regular basis, threatening to seep and consume him in blinding rage. Jealousy was a consciousness growing out of control. Never in his days had he experienced the gnawing ache he now felt when in the presence of the little minx and her growing affection for his brother. Cray knew having Henry live with him would pose an obstacle, but never had he thought him a problem where Ariel might be concerned. Henry was never far from her. Where he found one, he normally found the other. If Ariel wasn’t giving him lessons on cooking in the kitchen, she was showing him how to prune flowers in Cray’s hothouse. Ariel had altogether surprised him in all she mastered, when he thought her no more than a liar and a thief. He had told her his servants cared for those chores she attended, but she dismissed the idea with the notion she needed to occupy her time. “Idle time is wasted time,” Ariel had said. Cray strode from his study, once again in search of his scheming bride-to-be and his brother. What could she possibly be up to this time? He rose early this day as he had the past couple of weeks, curious as to what new adventure the dawn might bring. Ariel never ceased to amaze him and with it, his hunger for her multiplied in spades. Damned if he didn’t want her this very minute. Since her arrival, he had yet to bed another. Was it fair to take a lover when only this woman came to mind? Rich laughter swirled down the spiral staircase, coming from one of the rooms upstairs. Cray followed the compelling sound like a gambler to the tables. Even though he may not want to see Ariel, he detested the thought of Henry in her company yet again, a craving burgeoned inside him, controlling him. He was no longer in authority of his own life. She 72
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seemed to govern that as well. Cray paused by the closed door which laughter filtered through, resting his forehead on the cool surface, palm on the knob. He knew he should walk away, occupy his thoughts elsewhere, but his path in life had been forever altered. He wanted to hate Ariel, to hate her mother. Though he had little trouble with the latter, he found he couldn’t the first. He wanted to block all emotions from entering his soul, yet wished to experience the joy she brought out in Henry; the companionship they appeared to have in one another’s company. Cray needed what every man wanted from his wife. Hell, just the thought of it made him hard enough to drive spikes through steel. He had set out to control Ariel, but here he was, the one being manipulated. Damn her to hell! What sort of sorceress was she? He turned the brass knob and entered the room, stopping at the sight presented to him. His eyes rounded and had his jaw not been attached it would have bounced off the floor. Ariel sat in a rocking chair across from Henry, needle poised in the air, gaping at the opened doorway. Henry, his thick, black brows drawn together, held his tongue between his lips as he attempted to push the needle through his own fabric, not paying Cray any mind at all. What on God’s earth was she teaching him now? Needlepoint? And here, he had thought he’d seen everything. His dainty future-wife looked all at home holding needle to cloth, but his overgrown brother appeared to have one too many thumbs. Large fingers struggled with the fine needle as Henry aspired to hit the exact spot where it was meant to go. Finally, after about five misguided attempts, looking ready to throw the hoop across the room, he glanced at Ariel. Seeing the direction her gaze traveled, he turned toward the door where Cray stood. A sly grin on his face, Henry shrugged his shoulders and said, “I can’t seem to get the damn thing to work. Guess this is one project to be left unfinished.” 73
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Cray tilted his head back and really laughed. Ariel never ceased to amuse him. Here was a man large enough to wield a sledgehammer against the irons of a railroad track doing the work of a woman, and not caring a whit as to what his big brother might say about it. “I don’t suppose embroidery needles were meant for large fingers, Henry.” Cray smiled, his eyes narrowing in merriment. “I believe the job is hopeless. I can say one thing, however, Miss Montgomery has managed to keep you out of trouble. Thus far, she’s taught you to bake pastries, prune delicate orchids, and now embroider. I must say, it’s certainly a step up from cooking rats.” Henry chuckled, his eyes narrowing in mischief. “She has a positive effect on me.” “Too bad you weren’t older. Then you could marry her because I sure in the hell don’t know what to do with her.” Cray’s eyes locked with her azure ones, feeling her distress as though it were his own. “One minute I want to turn her over my knee and give her the paddling she needs, the next I want to throw her in my bed and give her exactly what she deserves—but what I need.” Henry tossed his hoop to the floor, the thud of the wood hitting the planks echoed about the silent room. He stood, coming toe to toe with Cray. “Craylen Wayne! I believe you owe Miss Montgomery an apology this minute. That’s no way to talk in front of a lady.” Cray raised own brow heavenward. “Is she?” “Is she what?” Henry’s brows met in the middle. “A lady? What proof have you, Henry? Are you the one to bed her on my wedding night? Tell me, will I find the lady she poses to be?” Ariel’s fingers trembled about the hoop she held tightly within her grasp. Cray wondered what secrets lay beneath her carefully constructed surface. What mysteries did she enshroud? He was an expert at hiding underneath the exterior; he knew when one wasn’t all they pretended to be. And Ariel had certainly cloaked herself in opacity. 74
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Henry placed a large finger, sprinkled with black hair, in the center of Cray’s chest and narrowed one eye in threat. “I’ve always looked up to you, big brother, no matter what Mother and Father might have to say about your questionable character. But this time, I think you’ve overstepped your boundaries. You have a special lady sitting here and you’re too much of a fat-head to see it.” Ariel stood and faced both of them as tears brimmed her eyes, though heat fairly radiated from the cores. “I don’t need you coming to my defense, Henry, though I do appreciate it. I’ve had about all I can take from him.” She turned to Cray. “If you don’t want me, then end my torture and send me back.” “No!” Cray roared. “Why not? It’s obvious to us all that you detest me and want very little to do with me. I’ve already lived a life full of hatred, but I’ll be damned before I take it from you.” Cray took a step toward her, his body taut in anger. “And what will you do, sweetness? Run away?” Pulling back her shoulders, Ariel glared into his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” Cray took his gaze from Ariel long enough to look at Henry. “Leave us, little brother.” “I don’t think—” Henry began. “I don’t care what you think at the moment, Henry. Get the hell out!” Cray roared, returning his gaze to the infuriating woman before him. Fire blazed in her eyes. Henry looked from one to the other, then left the room, slamming the door behind him. “You run from me, sweetness, and I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.” Tears slipped past her lashes. “Why? You don’t want me.” Her voice trembled. Her shoulders slumped. Gone was the fire, the fight. “You underestimate me.” Cray grasped her chin, tilting her face upward. “You see, I do want you, more than you’ll ever know. I had just a taste in Bridgeport and now I can’t seem to rid myself of the 75
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hunger to have all of you. You’ll be mine Ariel—for eternity!” She jerked her chin from his grasp, then swiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Eternally yours?” Ariel hiccoughed with a nervous giggle. “Never will I surrender my whole self to you!” “You have little choice, sweetness,” Cray chuckled with menace. “You see, you and your conniving mother set your path, not I. Now, what is mine—I shall take. You have a little over two months left in which to cherish. Because come my wedding night, I’ll take what I’ve been yearning for since I set eyes on you—to feel myself wrapped within you.” Cray’s face jerked as her hand connected with his cheek, heat instantly rising to the surface. He grasped her shoulders, yanking her against his taut frame, eyes boring into hers. Cray lowered his face and captured her lips. Ariel struggled wildly within his grasp, her hands pushing uselessly against his chest, as his tongue pushed past her lips, sweeping the flesh of her mouth possessively. Finally, he released Ariel as her knees gave way and she dropped to his feet. She stared up at him, hatred evident in her mist filled eyes. He had set out to push her away, to rebuild those walls she so easily crumbled. If victory was his, then why did the hole left in his heart leave him in torment? Walk away, he told himself, walk away before her tears lay claim to your soul. Giving her his back, Cray squared his shoulders and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. His back rested against the cold wood, the chill seeping into his veins as his blood once again iced over. He couldn’t allow her his sum and substance. Feelings were for those of the living—and he had died years ago, abandoned within the bastion of a prison. * * * Face in hands, Ariel’s body shook with great might. How could she allow this to happen? She had assured herself with the loss of her father, never again would she subject herself to such fear and pure 76
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hatred again. Here she was, not even a mere year later, at the mercy of yet another man. Her life wasn’t her own, but that of another’s, one who would control her, one who would once more feed upon her torment. How would she ever endure the marriage bed? His desires? His hands? Surely one day, he would give way to his hunger and take her, baring her soul. She would have to persevere and continue living or die a thousand deaths in his arms. One minute the passion he stirred within her cloaked her hidden fears. Then the next, they lay exposed, raw, and oozing like a wound never allowed to heal. What out of life had she wanted? What from Tanner was so different than Cray? Love. No matter what happened to her in her life, Tanner had understood, never leaving her side. What would happen once Cray found out she wasn’t the virgin he expected, but raped and violated by her twisted father? Would he withdraw from her, disgusted and sickened by her past? Or would he learn to love her regardless of a life lived she had no way of altering? You are in charge of your own destiny. She couldn’t alter the past. But her future could still be modified. Maybe her marriage to Cray wasn’t something to be reversed even had she wanted to, but their state of marriage had yet a chance. Her hope lay in changing the way Cray felt about her, gaining his love. Tanner came to mind as she stood and walked to the window overlooking the front of the estate. Through the lace-covered window, she saw Craylen walking down the steps, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his trousers. His gaze traveled into the distance. The angle of his square jaw only made his appearance nobler. The difference between him and her lost love was that Tanner had always been proud of something, his ancestors, while Craylen was a proud man, too stately to admit to his own faults. In that one moment, Ariel realized what it was she really wanted in life—Craylen Wayne Rollins III’s love. She’d spent most of her days 77
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trying to please one person or the next, in search of the love robbed from her at an early age, never asking for much. Now, she selfishly wanted what she was sure she would never achieve. Not just love, but Craylen’s love. Ariel opened the window, hoping to find her voice, wanting to call out to him, to plead with him to come back to her. But before she found the words, a carriage pulled up to the front of the house, and Craylen disappeared into the conveyance. The large horses and eight-glass coach pulled out of sight. Cray left nightly at dusk, though it wasn’t yet nightfall, and didn’t return until sometime just before dawn. Ariel had no idea where he went or what he did with himself. Though it wasn’t her place to ask, she couldn’t help but wonder. Where would he go at this time of day? Running to her room, skirts flying behind her, she grasped her cloak and headed for the stables. If he meant to leave her daily without acknowledging his whereabouts, then she meant to find out just what it was he did. After all, Atlantic City wasn’t all that big. “Miss Montgomery,” Joseph, the stable hand, acknowledged. “Would you like me to see to a carriage?” She held the sides of her skirts in her hand so not to soil the hem and smiled at the small man. “Please, Joseph. Mr. Rollins invited me to go along, but I declined. Now, I’ve changed my mind and he has already gone to…” She paused, hoping he would fill in the blank. “The Boardwalk, mistress. I could drive you there myself if you like. I’m sure Mr. Rollins would be delighted you decided to join him.” Joseph smiled, crossing his arms behind his back, rocking to his toes. He had no idea how much Cray would most likely mind, Ariel thoughtfully kept to herself. “I’m sure he would love the idea. Please hurry, Joseph. I’m anxious to see the new Boardwalk.” “Right away, Miss Montgomery.” Soon, Ariel found herself climbing into a smaller conveyance and 78
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tapping the roof to signal the driver. Nervously, she twisted the silk of her mahogany-colored gown within her grasp as the wheels of the coach crunched over the passing shells. Whatever it was Cray did with his nights—she was about to find out.
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CHAPTER 9
Craylen Rollins stood in front of the Golden Lion, tawny hair blowing in the breeze as the cool winds from the ocean rolled in off the Atlantic. He pulled his coat tightly around him as he waited for the woman who approached. Auburn curls cascaded down her back in a waterfall fashion, and blew about her face, obstructing her features from view. From a distance, the woman looked petite but rounded in all the right places. When she arrived at the spot where Craylen stood, her arms encircled his neck as she drew his cheek down for a kiss. A bright smile stretched across Craylen’s face as he hugged her to him lightly, then withdrew, and led her into the place of business. Anger coursed through chilled veins, heating the surface as the cloak was drawn tight. How could he? A few short months from being married and Craylen already had his hands on a voluptuous, fieryhaired woman—definitely not the woman he should have within his arms. Sadness bubbled up, threatening to choke off the life’s air as the 80
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heavily cloaked figure turned, entered the waiting carriage, and rode off. Sandy gravel crunched beneath the heavy wheels of the conveyance as a hand stroked the smooth jaw. Something would have to be done. Craylen would have to pay for his infidelities. * * * “What the hell are you doing here so early?” Matt asked from the leather booth in the balcony. “I hadn’t expected you for yet another couple of hours.” “I was bored.” Cray took a seat beside Melissa, who slid into the booth next to Matt. “So you came here for action?” Matt laughed, good-naturedly. “Good God, man. I thought with Henry in town you’d have enough action to last you for a while at home. Truth be told, I thought you’d stop coming in nightly.” “What? And leave all the business to you? What sort of fool do you take me for?” A grin stretched across Cray’s face, evidence of the first lightness of heart he had felt in days. He eyed the beauty approaching, admiring her slender form. “Bring me some bourbon,” Cray called to her. “Right away, Mr. Rollins.” She smiled, curtsied and ran off to do his bidding. Hell, life should be grand. What reason did he have to grovel in self-pity? He had all this. His gaze did an answering sweep of his gaming hall. Beautiful women, too, who would stand by his side at the snap of his fingers. Each and every one of them vying for his attention, especially since word of his breaking it off with Melissa traveled through his business so quickly. And last but certainly not least, the woman he found himself engaged to was more than beautiful, she was stunning, although he wanted little more from her other than her body nightly, which he planned to take once the sealing vows were made. His problems arose when he allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment. Now that they 81
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were securely tucked back away, life would return to normal. Matt’s arm rested across the back of the booth behind Missy as he turned to look at Cray. His blue eyes cloaked in confusion as he narrowed them. “What brings this sudden change in mood? Hell, I figured with Henry and Ariel both living under your roof, you’d be sour for months.” “Henry follows my petite little bride-to-be around like a dog sniffing her tail.” “And this brings a smile to your face?” “No, but it keeps Henry out of trouble. Thus far, she’s taught him to bake, prune flowers, and a botched attempt at needlepoint.” Matt tilted his head back in gaiety, and roared in laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding!” “Oh, but I’m quite serious. Stop by and see for yourself sometime.” Cray ran both hands through his unkempt hair, ridding his face of the stray strands. “I might just do that.” A piano resounded in the background as Matt slid from the seat and allowed Missy to proceed to the stage for her nightly show. “Break a leg, my dear,” Cray called after her. “At least it won’t be a heart,” she called back, winking at Cray. “I’m not so sure about that. After all, you broke mine.” He smiled, placing a hand over his chest. “I doubt that, Craylen Rollins. I never met anyone who shut more people out than you,” and she continued her way to the small center stage. Cray sat quietly as her wounding remark settled in. Hoots and hollers filled the room as games ceased and all eyes turned to the stunning woman on stage. Cray’s gaze held mesmerized by the sight before him. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he give up something so heart-staggering when it was his for the taking? He could have had the best of both worlds—Missy to warm his bed—and a wife 82
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he was in fear of losing his soul to. But, no, his conscience had to get in the way. He knew, without a doubt, he was a fool to give up Missy, but he would be an even bigger fool if he thought he could continue their relationship as it was. Melissa Ward deserved more than a cold heart. At home, he was having enough problems distancing himself from a minx in lady’s clothing, and certainly didn’t need to add to them. “…this quarter, our profits have risen,” Matt finished, waiting for a reply from Cray. When Cray finally realized Matt had been speaking, he turned to look at him. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” “I’m sorry. My mind’s been elsewhere.” Cray shrugged, then poured himself a bourbon, staring into the amber-colored liquid as though the answer to life’s puzzles were somehow hidden in the bottom. “Why not take your lust-starved ass home and slake what you’ve been craving?” Matt glared at him. “Excuse me?” Cray’s eyes widened in surprise. How could Matt even suggest he take what was his before the wedding? “I don’t believe I heard you correctly.” “You know damn well you did. You’ve been crankier than a skinned rattler the last few weeks.” “You’re damned right I have. Don’t you think I have just cause? For God’s sake—I’m marrying a conniving little witch. And you think I want to go home and slake my urge? What makes you even believe it’s her I hunger for?” Cray tossed back the fiery liquid, feeling the answering burn clear to his toes. He released a deep rush of air between his lips. “Come now, Cray. Anyone with eyes in their head can see you desire that woman.” “So, I admit it, I want to bed her. That doesn’t change how she trapped me into this situation. If things were different, I might just 83
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assuage that urge, but—” “You’re too damned stubborn to take what you need. Instead, you bestow upon us your nasty disposition. Come now, friend—tell me your mood wouldn’t be better if you were taking what you really wanted.” “The fact remains—she has yet to become my wife. And until our wedding night—I’ll curb my long awaited desire.” Cray rose from the booth. “I think I’ll try my own luck tonight at All Fours. Losing can’t be any worse than being tongue-flogged by you.” “Certainly your luck at cards can’t be as bad as that at home, my good man. But take my advice—if the cards don’t fall, then take it to the little lady waiting for you.” Cray shook his head, smiled a grin he didn’t feel. “I highly doubt she’s waiting for me…not when she has Henry.” Then he took the winding stairs to the first floor without a backward glance. * * * “Joseph?” Ariel called from the opened window of the conveyance. “Why are we stopping?” “Your mother, Mistress. Her carriage is pulling into the drive,” the small man called back. “Should I tell her driver of your trip to the Boardwalk to see Mr. Rollins?” The wind left her sails. Ariel knew she couldn’t go carting off on some wild chase with her mother left wondering why. Of course if Adelaine knew, she would never approve. Taking a deep breath, only to dispel it quickly, she told the driver, “No, I think you better take me back to the estate. My mother will be full of tales from her trip into Absecon.” “What about Mr. Rollins, Mistress?” the driver asked, his voice sounding distressed. Joseph appeared to be on her side, rooting for what Ariel thought a lost cause. She, too, wanted to see a workable union between her and Craylen, but at the moment, she knew her battle ran uphill; a contention better left for another day. 84
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“Mr. Rollins will have to wait. Right now, I think it best if I see how my mother’s trip went.” Ariel sighed deeply before saying, “Turn the carriage around, Joseph. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” “As you say.” Reins cracked against the mares’ backs as the wheels to the conveyance crunched over the crushed shells, circled, and headed for the stables behind the main house. Moments later, Ariel was in the parlor warming her hands by the hearth, waiting for her mother to come down from her room, wondering where Craylen was at this very moment and what he did with himself nightly. Would he ever enlighten her? Taking a seat on a carved mahogany chair by the fireplace, Ariel spread her skirts, careful not to wrinkle them and impatiently awaited her mother’s arrival. Heels clicked off the planked floor as Adelaine approached the parlor, then walked through the door, her shoes silenced by the area rug. “My dear, where is that handsome fiancé of yours?” Adelaine took off her gloves and handed them to Edward as he promptly entered the room behind her. “Tea, madams?” The stately butler held his form erect, looking to the grate over the fire and not at them. “Splendid, Edward,” Adelaine said in a voice so sweet, Ariel rolled her eyes heavenward. If anyone actually knew the real Adelaine… “Did you enjoy your trip, Mother?” Ariel asked toying with the fabric of her dress, not wanting to look at her mother. Adelaine walked to the chair opposite hers and sat on the edge, primly holding her hands in her lap. “Sit straight, dear. You’re slouching.” Like the good daughter she tried to be, Ariel automatically corrected her spine’s curvature. “That’s better. Now, my trip was splendid. I met with C.W. and Tabitha…Mr. Rollins and his wife, of course…and they have an impressive day already set. New Year’s Day is to be your wedding date. Isn’t that wonderful?” 85
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Ariel’s eyes rounded as she stiffened her already straight spine. “You can’t be serious? I thought I had three months from the day I arrived? We came in the beginning of November, Mother. Barely one month ago. January first isn’t even a month away, a little over three weeks to be exact. I’ll never be ready.” “Of course you will, dear.” Edward entered the room and placed a tray laden with pastries and tea on a coffee table set between the two chairs before the roaring fire. “Will there be anything else?” He held his hands behind his back, staring at the wall in front of him. Ariel got the feeling Edward disliked her mother. But then who did like her? “No, thank you, Edward. That will be all.” Adelaine dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Now, as I was saying,” she grasped a cup and filled it, “Tabitha thought what a better way to bring in the new year. You and Craylen will be married the first day of 1871. C.W. and she will arrive promptly one week before the nuptials.” The blood drained from Ariel’s face, causing her to feel light in the head. Thinking she had two months before the arrival of the dreaded day, Ariel was able to distance herself from the matter. Now, not even a month away—well, what was she to do? Adelaine placed her cup on the tray and walked over to Ariel where she placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling well, dear? You look a little peaked.” “I think I need to lie down a bit is all. I wasn’t quite prepared for the shock.” Ariel nervously wrung her hands into the folds of her dress, hopelessly creasing the material. “Maybe you should retire for the evening.” “But whatever would you do with yourself?” Ariel tried to keep the sarcastic edge from her voice, though she failed miserably. She wanted desperately to add, “whom, then, would you find to terrorize?” but thought better of it. “No need to be so testy.” Adelaine narrowed her eyes. “I was in a 86
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perfectly good mood until you soured it with your pouting. Craylen Rollins III is quite the catch, and any woman would be considered lucky to be in your shoes.” “Tell me, Mother,” Ariel stood, “just how did I get in these shoes?” “You know darn well. If you wouldn’t have made a tart of yourself in the man’s bed—” “But that’s the point, Mother.” Ariel’s voice raised as her ire heated. “How did I get in Mr. Rollins’ bed in the first place? Can you honestly tell me that?” “Vanessa made a mistake, dear. It’s all quite simple.” Adelaine made work of fixing the strays of her coiffure as she looked into the mirror hanging on the wall. She couldn’t even look into Ariel’s eyes, which told her more than words could that her mother was guilty of withholding the truth. Ariel could see it all as though it happened only yesterday. Craylen poised above her, ready to take her, and Ariel squirming wantonly beneath him. How could she be so libidinous? Was she truly a product of her father’s making? If it wasn’t for the untimely arrival of Craylen’s parents and her mother and Vanessa, who wore a ridiculous housekeeper’s outfit… Of course, she’d forgotten Vanessa’s attire, proving her mother’s involvement. “Why was Vanessa wearing a housekeeper’s uniform, Mother?” Ariel narrowed one eye, daring her to tell anything but the truth. “So you remember.” Adelaine stiffened her spine, not bothering to squirm her way out of her part in it. “I thought with the laudanum you might not remember.” “You gave me laudanum? That’s why I was so drowsy. Wh…why I thought Craylen was Tanner.” Ariel threw her arms up and walked to the double doors leading to the back patio. A light snow had begun to fall again. “I couldn’t allow you to throw your life away, Ariel.” “So you decided to alter it.” Steam clouded the window from the 87
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warmth of her breath as a single tear slipped down her cheek. “So why Craylen? How did you decide on him?” “Well, that was pure luck.” Adelaine laughed, certainly proud of herself. “I heard of the convention in Bridgeport. I knew several wealthy men would be there. But imagine my luck to find one as wealthy as C.W. Rollins. Of course C.W. was already married, but Craylen wasn’t. When I overheard him tell the hotel manager he wanted a woman in his bed—well I thought, who better than you.” Ariel whirled from the doors, anger heating her veins as she clenched her fists at her sides. “No wonder Craylen hates me so. You schemed to have him compromise me. And all for what? So I wouldn’t marry Tanner McCabe? Why involve an innocent man, Mother? Are you even that cruel to ruin this poor man’s life?” “Would you have married that despicable McCabe if I would have demanded you not to?” Adelaine dug her fists into her hips. “Yes.” “That’s what I thought. You’re too headstrong for your own good, so you see, I had no choice. The boy was detestable, for heaven’s sake!” “You found his father, Owen, to your liking.” Adelaine closed the gap between them, slapping Ariel’s cheek. Her face jerked sideways before Ariel bestowed on her mother a look filled with hatred. “Owen wasn’t a half-breed,” Adelaine ground out. “Neither was Tanner,” Ariel gritted between her teeth. “I told you before, his grandmother was Apache—not his mother.” “He looked like an Indian. My grandchildren won’t have a drop of savage blood.” Adelaine’s eyes fairly glowed in her prejudice. “So you ruined another man’s life because you’re close-minded.” Ariel took a deep breath then glared at Adelaine. “You know I’ll tell Craylen the whole sordid truth.” “You’ll do no such thing.” Adelaine smiled. 88
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“And what makes you think I won’t?” “Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re smitten with Craylen. It’s written clear as day in your eyes. If you tell him—he’ll think you were involved and despise you forever. But because of his honor, he’ll still marry you and subject you to a life of hate. Is that what you want, Ariel? Do you want Craylen to hate you for the rest of your lives?” “Craylen will love me one day.” Ariel’s lip trembled. She wouldn’t allow her mother to see her cry. “Then I wouldn’t tell him the whole truth, dear.” The smile on Adelaine’s face spoke of her triumph. “Lest you push him away for good.” Ariel grasped her skirts and ran from the room, tears free-falling down her cheeks. Blinded by her flight, she was nearly knocked from her feet as she ran into a broad expanse of a chest.
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CHAPTER 10
Sleep eluded her, even in the darkest of nights. Ariel tossed for what felt like the thousandth time. How could she allow her mother to seep into her pores? But she knew without a doubt, Adelaine was right. If she told Craylen the entire truth of how she wound up in his bed the night that altered both their lives forever, she chanced gaining his scorn for an eternity. Cray would never believe she hadn’t a thing to do with her mother’s scheme. A fly caught in the web of her mother’s deceitfulness. If it hadn’t been for Henry, she was sure her head would have been pounding, ready to split, from all the problems of her existence creeping back into her life. After nearly being knocked to the floor when she ran into him from her earlier flight, Henry had taken her into the kitchen and warmed some milk to calm her frazzled nerves. “Craylen will come around,” he had said. “I know my brother, he doesn’t trust or love easily. But when you gain both, you’ll have his loyalty forever.” 90
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Henry’s words had only added to her pain, though he had meant them to soothe. Little did he know of the truths she concealed. If Craylen found out the sordid details of how she came to be in his bed, he’d never forgive her. How could she ever gain his trust when she couldn’t be completely honest with him? And without trust, he could never learn to love her. Though Henry’s words did little to ease her fears, his presence calmed her apprehension. For Ariel knew, with Henry, she had gained a friend. Winds rattled the panes of the window, causing Ariel to pull her comforter more securely about her. Ice ran through her veins, and she doubted she would ever be warm again. The embers of the fire burned low. If wood weren’t soon added, it would die out completely. Unable to take the chill a moment longer, she slipped from her bed, grasped her thin night-wrapper and tied it securely around her waist. Her slippers lie warm beside the hearth where she slid her feet into their heated interior. Ariel took a poker from beside the grate and stoked the fire, then added a few more logs, staring into the growing orange embers. Shivers wracked her body as a cool breeze seemed to travel through the house. Ariel walked to the door and headed down the stairs to see where the draft might be coming from. Surely this time of night, all were abed. The house was silent, not a candle flickered as she made her way to the kitchen of the large house. While she was up, she might as well make a spot of tea in hopes it might warm her icy soul. Ariel moved her fingers about the wooden worktable centered in the kitchen, knowing a lantern must be nearby. The surface was smooth and cool beneath her touch. She silently cursed herself for not bringing a candle from her room. Uneasiness settled about her. The air crackled with electricity. Of course, she was completely alone and it wasn’t anything more than her gnawing fear of the dark. 91
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“Damn,” she muttered beneath her breath. “That lantern has got to be here somewhere.” Ariel inched her way around the table, where the toe of her slipper connected with something immovable and the smell of whiskey assaulted her senses. Claws of consternation climbed up her spine. She was being silly, of course. It was nothing more than an opened bottle of bourbon sitting somewhere within the room. The item her toe had bumped into was no longer there as she moved uneasily around the table. Ariel closed her fingers about an empty glass left sitting on the table. Picking it up, she moved it beneath her nose. Bourbon. Cray must have come home and had a nightcap before settling down for the evening. She set the glass back on the table and continued her trek around the room. The table appeared to be empty, so Ariel made her way to a counter lining the back wall. The cool breeze came again as a window banged off the side of the house, left opened and not shuttered. No wonder the draft had filtered through the house and upstairs to her room. Ariel shook her head and crossed the room feeling more at ease, wondering who would be so careless as to leave it open on a night such as this. The latch fell into place as Ariel pulled it closed, then grasped her wrapper, holding it tightly about her. She shivered from the cold. Suddenly in a hurry to return to her room, Ariel turned and ran straight into an immovable object. Had it not been for the hand that quickly covered her mouth, she would have screamed loud enough to wake the entire house. An arm encircled her back and pulled her flush against the solid frame. Though she knew, try as she might, she would never escape his large grasp. Ariel kicked wildly at the stranger’s shins, making contact once, receiving a low grunt for her accomplishment, and hurting her toe in the process. “Quit your squirming,” a low, deep voice grounded through 92
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clenched teeth, as his hand left her mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His breath, heavy with whiskey, assailed her nostrils. “Craylen?” she asked, the fight instantly leaving her. “For heaven’s sake, what time of night is it?” “Late,” he replied, not releasing his hold on her. “Or should I say early?” “What on earth are you doing up?” The sensuality of being within his arms, cloaked in darkness, was nearly more than she could bear as an answering heat swept through her body. “I might ask you the same thing,” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek as his mouth remained mere inches away. “I…I couldn’t sleep. I…I was looking for a lantern,” her voice trembled. Damn herself for losing control in his presence. “What do we need light for?” he whispered, his tone deep and husky. “Maybe you can see in the dark, but I can’t. You scared the dickens out of me.” “I hadn’t meant to frighten you.” “How long were you standing there?” “Since you came into the room. I felt the draft while I was having bourbon in the study. I came in here to close the window. That’s when you came in.” His white teeth flashed in the darkness, proving his humor at finding her at his mercy. Ariel slapped his chest, the sound echoing about the empty room. “You did too mean to frighten me. Otherwise you would have said something. Let me know you were here.” “Guilty.” His teeth gleamed against the blackness of the night again. “Can I help it if I enjoy having you at my mercy?” Ariel was speechless as she stared into his dark features, wishing for light to see the strong contours of his face. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she enjoyed looking upon his comeliness. She tried pushing herself from his embrace, but his hold only tightened. 93
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“Please,” she whispered, unsure of whether she begged to be released or for the kisses he so masterfully bestowed upon her, which forever haunted her dreams. Cray lowered his face so slowly Ariel thought she would die of wanting. Her hands slid up his chest to the nape of his neck, entwining with the tawny strands hanging loosely about his shoulders. Craylen needed no further coaxing as he closed the gap between them and his mouth slanted over her warm, inviting lips. Without much persuasion of his own, her lips parted, inviting him inside. He slipped his tongue past her lips and inside her satiny shelter, tasting of her honeyed sweetness. Like a moth to flames, he pulled her tightly against his arousal as his tongue coaxed hers into sparring. Her body melded to his as their mouths mingled and tongues thrust. God, did he want her. He wanted her here on the table’s surface; in his bed, wantonly reacting to his expert ministrations; in his study before the roaring fire, heating their flesh to a fevered pitch. Needing her now, Cray couldn’t wait until his wedding’s eve any more than he could stay away from his gaming tables. He craved her wrapping him in a cocoon of heat. He needed to hear her tell him she wanted the same as she squirmed beneath his searching fingers. One hand enclosed a lightly covered breast, as a thumb coaxed her nipple into hardness. Her body shivered beneath his hand, causing him to draw her closer, tightly against his throbbing arousal. A moan escaped her throat only to die within the recesses of his mouth as he continued to sup and draw from her. Ariel arched into the palm of his hand as he desired to have just a taste of things to come. His lips left her mouth to trail down her chin to her neck where he met with the gown and wrapper, covering her from head to toe. He slipped two fingers inside the tie of her night-coat, loosening it. He pulled back the sides leaving nothing between him and ecstasy save the thin shift she wore beneath. His lips enfolded one breast, wetting the material, leaving him 94
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suddenly cursing the darkness. He wanted to see her as her eyes glazed in passion and her head tilted back in surrender. “Craylen,” he heard his name whispered as though from a distance. “We can’t,” she mumbled in an uncertain tone. “You’ll be my wife soon,” he whispered huskily. “There is no shame in what we feel.” “No,” she whispered in denial as his hand returned to her breast and his mouth covered hers to seal out any more objections. Her arms about his neck anchored his face to hers as she returned his kiss with an answering fervor. Not being able to hold out much more, Cray picked her up beneath the arms and set her on the table’s top, wrapping her legs about his waist, bringing her flush with his aching arousal. Damn, he needed a release, and soon for fear of embarrassing himself. “No,” came again as one arm left his neck to make a lame attempt to push away his attentions. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispered as his mouth abandoned hers once more to trail kisses about her cheek to her ear where his tongue traced the sensitive flesh. Her head tilted into the satiny feel of his tongue. She couldn’t allow this to happen. They weren’t yet man and wife, but her body continued to react unjustifiably to his. The sensuous heat of his arousal resting against the soft flesh between her thighs drove her beyond any sanity. Of her body’s own accord, it arched into his, wanting, savoring the feel of him nestled firmly within the wrap of her legs. No, her mind screamed, this can’t happen, though her head tilted to the opposite side as his tongue trailed over the flesh of her neck. How she wanted him, this. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wanted to feel him buried deeply within her. She was a product of her father. Oh, God! How could she react so brazenly? Suddenly her hands flew to his chest in a panic, pushing frantically against him. “No,” she cried. Blond curls loomed before her as the 95
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thick fingers of her father violated her again and again. “No.” If he took her now, there would be no wedding. He would throw her away as used goods, not being able to stand the thought of his ever-present scorn. “God, no!” Cray suddenly released her as he backed off, stumbling dumbfounded. What was wrong with her? Her body had been at the same fevered pitch as his. He couldn’t have misread the signs. Ariel had wanted him as much as he had her. “What the hell is wrong?” he burst out in his anger and scowled at her. “Nothing,” she muttered pitifully as she pulled her wrapper back about her. “Please, just leave me alone.” He heard the sniffle though the tears went unseen in the darkness. Cray reached out a finger, feeling the wetness on her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Ariel? Help me understand.” “No,” she cried as she jumped from the table. Her slippered feet thudded on the wood floor. “Please leave it alone, Craylen.” “I can’t.” He grasped her shoulders, preventing her from taking flight. She struggled within his grasp, her body hiccoughing in her sobs. “Let me go,” she pleaded. “You don’t want to know.” She tore herself from his grasp and fled the room, leaving Cray to stare after her. “The hell I don’t,” he whispered into the quietness of the room. How could he have misread her so badly? He should have been within her this very minute, slaking that desire Matt talked about, fueling the flames of his need. Damn. His foot kicked out, striking the table’s edge, nearly tilting it as it rocked on all fours. His body was taut from need, taut from anger. If he had any sense at all, he’d find himself a lady of expansive sensibility and appease the itch left unscratched. Cray raked both hands through his hair, turned and walked out the 96
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door and into the cold of night. It certainly wasn’t the first pike he had to walk off and probably wouldn’t be the last. * * * Ariel watched from a window upstairs as Cray walked into the darkness and disappeared within the shadows. She had wanted him with a force that scared her. How could she allow him such liberties with her body? Had he discovered the awful truth about what her father had done to her, surely he would turn away in disgust. She couldn’t bear for him to look upon her in abhorrence. She would rather take his hate than pity. She ran the rest of the distance to her room, slamming the door behind her. Rubbing her hands over the goose flesh popping out across her skin, she walked to the fireplace and threw on an extra log. She needed warmth, heat sure to thaw her veins. From the moment she fled the kitchen, her body had once again iced over. Ariel sat on the edge of the settee positioned at the foot of her bed, placed her face in her hands, and allowed the tears to wrack her body. * * * “What are you doing here?” the feminine voice whispered into the darkness. “I thought you wouldn’t be here for another couple of weeks.” “After last week…you think I would wait for another taste?” the manly voice said as he slipped beneath the covers. Gripping a large breast within his palm, he added, “I don’t think I could get enough of you.” “Did anyone see you come here? We can’t risk being seen.” Her voice held an edge of apprehension. “Of course not, I’m a master at slipping in unseen.” “I take it you do this sort of thing often,” she giggled. “Often enough. Are you complaining?” Her hand enclosed him, finding him already aroused. “Not at all,” she whispered huskily. “Truth be told, I couldn’t wait to see you 97
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again.” “You’re a naughty girl, Adelaine,” Cliff whispered. “Exactly how I like you.” Adelaine ran a hand down the smooth features of his face. “No more talk, Mr. Rollins. Show me how much you missed me.” “No need to ask twice.” A smile stretched across his handsome face as he spread her thighs with one knee and showed her exactly how much.
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CHAPTER 11
Ariel sat in the formal dining room, alone. Even if the table had been filled with guests, the feeling of abandonment would still have been the same. Her eyelids weighed a ton, and she knew without the benefit of a mirror, they were puffy and red. A night of sleeplessness did no one any good. After Craylen left the house, and her tears had long since dried, she paced the room when she wasn’t tossing in bed. She never heard Craylen return, which only added to her despair. Did she drive him into the arms of another? And if she had, could she blame him? After acting wantonly to his advances, he certainly needed to assuage his lust somewhere. The weight on her chest grew heavier. Life for her was destined to be forever full of trials and tribulations. She was sure her faith in the Lord would be forever tested, and this was her punishment for not being a good Christian. Of course, she believed in the Lord. She just wondered why he had 99
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abandoned her at such an early age and left her at the hands of her father. What had she done so wrong? At times like these, Ariel knew she should turn to God above, though she often found it hard. Certainly, no one else was on her side. “Good morning,” came a cheery, deep voice as Henry entered the room. “And what a beautiful morning it is. Wouldn’t you say?” “Not really.” Ariel turned her swollen face to her plate, not wanting Henry to be privy to her night of crying. “Ahh, what’s not good about it?” Henry chuckled. “The sun is up and there are very few clouds in the sky. Only a light dust of snow covers the ground. Aside from the brisk temperature, I think the day might turn out to be a good one.” “Where do you get your cheerfulness from, Henry?” Ariel asked, finally looking at him. “I could certainly use some this morning.” He paused as he studied her face. Anger crossed through his eyes before he smiled again, as though seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “My dear Ariel, stick with me and I’ll see to it you’re cheered quickly. I always have a few pranks up my sleeve, guaranteed to put a smile on your face.” “I’m not so sure it would be a good idea to upset your older brother this morning.” Ariel toyed with the eggs on her plate. Henry walked to the buffet and loaded his plate with enough food to feed two people, then returned to the table and took a seat opposite her. Plopping a bite of the scrambled egg into his mouth, he smiled. “Craylen isn’t even here. I checked his room before coming down. His bed wasn’t slept in. So, I took the opportunity to fill the sheets with lard. Imagine his surprise when he slides into them tonight.” Ariel giggled, giving Henry her first smile in hours. “You didn’t?” “Tell me he’s not deserving?” Henry grinned, then popped another bite of egg into his mouth. “But that’s nothing, wait until he tries to use his razor.” “What on earth did you do?” Ariel’s eyes rounded. 100
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“A tree outside needed a little pruning. The damn thing’s so dull, he’s likely to cut a good chunk of skin when he goes to shave.” One side of Henry’s mouth turned up in his humor before biting into a sausage pattie stuck on the end of his fork. “He’ll probably use it to cut your throat.” “I’m not too worried. One time, I put poison oak in his trousers when we were on a trip west…he couldn’t sit for days. And…I’m still alive to tell the story.” Ariel giggled, stifling the sound with her hand. Cray would be furious when he returned. “Did you leave anything untouched?” “Not his desk.” Henry looked at his plate and stabbed another sausage before turning his merry-filled eyes on her. “What did you do to his desk?” Ariel gasped. “He won’t be able to open it without the use of tools. I nailed the rolled-top to his desk shut.” Without even the dignity to look sorry for anything he did, he plopped the last of his eggs into his mouth and smiled at her. Ariel couldn’t help but grin in return. “Craylen will be furious.” “Probably, but after I heard you crying in the middle of the night— what he got was light compared to what he’s due, and if I get anywhere near that kitchen…well, let’s just say, don’t eat the food served at the dinner hour.” Shoes sounded loudly off the planked foyer as Adelaine entered on the arm of Clifford. Ariel quickly stifled her giggles. Henry rose, holding out a chair for Adelaine to sit beside him. Not even a hint of humor remained in his eyes. Cliff took the chair across from her. “I didn’t realize you were coming back so soon, Mr. Rollins, though it is certainly a joy to see you again,” Ariel greeted. “I made a trip over, arrived early this morning. There were a few things I wanted to discuss with big brother. And of course, I couldn’t help but be in the company of two beautiful women.” Cliff snapped his linen napkin over his plate, then spread it carefully on his lap. 101
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A servant quickly came to his side, taking his plate to the buffet and filled it with food. Adelaine declined to eat but accepted a steaming cup of coffee, filled with cream and sugar. Light conversation traveled about the table when Edward entered the room, clearing his throat. A small silver tray rested on his palm with a yellow piece of paper lying atop. “Miss Montgomery, this telegraph came for you.” The legs to the chair scraped across the floor as she pushed her seat back. Ariel walked over to Edward, took the note, and thanked him before dismissing him. All eyes were on her as she unfolded the paper and read. Ariel, arriving last day December while condition permits. All my love…Cheri “Well what is it, dear?” Adelaine asked, seeing the smile on Ariel’s face. She waved the paper in the air, returning to her seat at the table. “Good news,” Ariel addressed Henry more than anyone else. “My sister is on her way. She’ll make it for my wedding after all.” “Your sister?” Adelaine questioned. “Who in heaven’s name are you speaking about?” “Cheryl Donovan…I mean Storm. Cheri, Ryder and Joey are coming for my wedding.” Adelaine’s face paled. “You have to be joking!” Stiffening her spine, Ariel glared at her mother. “No, I’m not. I invited them before they left Rhode Island on their return to Arizona. I was afraid since the date of my wedding was moved up, they wouldn’t make it in time. It appears that because Cheri is with child, they are coming earlier than planned. They’ll be here by the end of this month.” “Oh, my.” Adelaine fanned herself, her complexion whitening even more. “What’s the matter, my dear woman?” Clifford questioned, obviously distressed by Adelaine’s condition. 102
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“That no-good outlaw is bringing his uncultured bride here. What will C.W. and Tabitha say?” Adelaine ignored Clifford’s aid. “Mother!” Ariel snapped to her feet. “I’ve allowed you to talk to me in a less than appropriate manner. But, I won’t tolerate you speaking of my half-sister or her husband that way. That no-good outlaw was hired by you!” “To find your father’s murderer, not marry her.” Adelaine grasped her chest in her exertion. “Are you all right?” Cliff used his own napkin to fan Adelaine. “Maybe you should—” “No!” Ariel pointed her finger at her mother. “She feigns chest pains every time I confront her with anything. Not this time, Mother. You’ll hear me out.” “Please, Ariel, have a seat and calm down,” Adelaine requested in a breathless voice. “I won’t calm down; not until you’ve heard me out. I remind you, the woman you hired Ryder to find wasn’t the person who murdered Father.” “So…they’re coming here.” Adelaine rolled her eyes, releasing a slow breath between her lips. “My, my, what will we ever do?” “Give them a place to stay and treat them like guests. If I see you mistreating them, Mother, I’ll tell everyone…no matter the consequences.” “Don’t you threaten me!” Adelaine pushed herself from the table and stood. “It’s not a threat, Mother. It’s a promise.” Ariel threw her napkin to the table and left Adelaine to mop up after herself. Ariel would be damned before she allowed her mother to treat her sister and her husband any other than the good people they were. * * * The hours following breakfast did little to calm her fury. Ariel wouldn’t allow Adelaine to take away the one bright spot in her day. 103
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Cheri, Ryder, and Joey would be here for her wedding. A better wedding gift she couldn’t ask for, except for Craylen’s love, of course. And she certainly wasn’t expecting to receive the latter. The needle traveled in and out of the fabric feverishly as Ariel tried her best to occupy her mind. The less she thought about her problems, the better off she was. Rich red velvet lay in a pool at her feet. If she worked hard enough, the dress would be ready for Christmas. “Ouch,” Ariel exclaimed after sticking herself with the needle. A small drop of blood welled to the surface, reminding Ariel of a Christmas past; the first one she had shared with Tanner. Her gaze turned to the window as shadows of yesterday invaded her thoughts. Tanner held the gleaming knife in his right hand as a smile grew upon his tanned face, the whiteness of his teeth flashing across his beardless jaw. “On this, our first shared Christmas, we will mix our blood and pledge ourselves to one another.” “You’re going to cut me?” Ariel gasped. “I won’t hurt you,” he laughed. “It will only be a little poke, I promise. Trust me?” “You know I do.” She smiled. “Does this mean we will be together forever?” “Forever,” he said as he pushed the point of the blade into the pad of her thumb, drawing a drop of blood to the surface. Ariel gasped, watching the scarlet-liquid pool on her finger. Tanner stuck his own thumb, then took hers and pressed the two together, smearing the blood from his tanned hand to her lighter one. Ariel quickly withdrew her finger and stuck it in her mouth, sucking on the injured pad. “Hurt?” he asked as he licked off the blood on his own. “No,” Ariel said, eyeing him carefully. “Will you never leave me?” Tanner drew an eagle’s feather from the band he wore around his head, handing it to her. “Never. I vow, I’ll love you until the day we die.” 104
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Ariel took the offering and stuck it in her hair above her right ear, then ran a finger down the proud features of his jaw. She hadn’t promised to never leave him, Ariel recalled as the velvet at her feet came back into focus. Funny how life comes full circle. Here she was, ready to promise never to leave Craylen’s side, positive he couldn’t offer her the same. Eternally yours. Had she not scoffed at the idea? Now here she was, ready to give him her soul. If only he could show her once what it would be like to be loved by him, a man incapable of the very thing. “What are you doing?” Henry asked as he walked through the opened doorway to the parlor. Startled, Ariel’s head snapped toward the sound of the voice. She stuck her injured thumb into her mouth, sucking off the drop of blood before answering him. “I’m making a dress for Christmas. I was hoping this year would be better than the past years.” “I’m sure it will be. After all, you have me.” Henry offered her a smile meant to cheer her. Ariel giggled. “Can I help?” “You tried sewing, remember? I fear your fingers are too large.” “Maybe, so. But isn’t there some way I can be of help? I make good company.” Ariel couldn’t resist the look of a stray puppy, as though lost and without a home. “Well…there is one thing you could do for me.” She apologized, wincing. “Come, now…tell me. I’m sure I can be of assistance.” Within minutes, Ariel had Henry standing in the center of the room on a box, draped from waist to calves in red velvet. With pins stuck between her lips, she said out of the corner of her mouth, “If I measured correctly from my waist to the floor, this should be about the right length for the skirt.” “Sorry the top of the dress wouldn’t fit,” he laughed, scrunching the bodice between two fists, holding the dress about his center. Placing the last pin into the material, Ariel sat back on her heels and 105
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admired her handiwork. Henry bowed his head, looking at the hemline. Sticking out a toe, he said, “It looks like this part here, over my foot is a bit longer than the rest. What do you say?” “I believe you’re right.” Ariel reached for the pin when deep chuckles came from behind, followed by loud peals of laughter, drawing their attention to the door. Henry’s cheeks turned a warming shade of red as Ariel looked from the two men standing at the door, doubled over in merriment, to Henry. “You may get down, Henry,” Ariel told him, feeling badly for having Henry caught in the unmanly position. “I believe the color is quite becoming on me. Don’t you, Ariel? Gentleman,” Henry addressed the large men guffawing at the door. He stiffened his shoulders, pulled up on his hold of the rich fabric, and shouldered his way past them. Ariel was left giggling in the center of the room, seated upon the floor at the base of the box, a hand covering her mouth. “And here I thought you full of hot air, my good man,” Matt laughed as he entered the parlor, taking a seat on the yellow-striped settee. “Is there much danger from spending a lot of time in your wifeto-be’s company?” Ariel’s mood sobered. “He wouldn’t know,” she answered for Cray as she picked herself off the floor, dusting her maroon day-dress free of dirt. “He spends little time in it.” “I was in your company last night as I recall. You were the one who fled. Had you stayed, I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard much in the way of complaints,” Cray stated in an even tone, void of feeling. He shook the few snowflakes from his jacket before handing it to the suddenly appearing butler. “Coffee, Edward.” Warmth spread through Ariel’s cheeks as she was sure they matched the flames of the fire. “How would you know? You left well before the complaints started.” “Are you telling me you regret your abrupt departure?” A sadistic 106
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grin crossed his face only adding to the sharp angle of his jaw, squaring it off at the chin. “My only regret is coming here at all.” Ariel narrowed her eyes at him, holding his whiskey gaze. Edward entered the parlor, set a tray of coffee on the side table and left. Matt helped himself to a steaming cup as Ariel and Cray continued to ignore his presence, then returned to his seat. “You’re free to leave whenever you like, sweetness.” “And we both know I can’t do that.” “I don’t see a ball and chain around your ankle.” Cray studied the nails on his right hand, refusing to return his gaze to her, feigning indifference. Ariel clenched her jaw, as an answering ache traveled up to her temples. The man was positively infuriating. How could she ever hope to gain his love, let alone want it? “You know as well as I, that I can’t leave here without you turning me away. My reputation—” “—is in shreds and you’re hoping that by marrying me, it will mend. Think again, sweetness. I told you last night what I wanted and I intend to get it. The wedding stands.” “I hate you.” “I could only be so lucky.” A throat cleared from somewhere near the carved mahogany settee as both eyes turned to the man sitting on it. “Shall I leave?” “No!” Cray and Ariel shouted in unison, before returning their gazes once again to each other. Ariel noted Cray’s gaze wasn’t filled with hate or loathing, but something else. Dare she name it—pity? The last thing she wanted from Cray was charity. “Don’t you feel sorry for me, Craylen Rollins!” He tipped his head back and laughed in mock humor. “Sorry, sweetness? I sympathize with every man who comes in contact with you, not the other way around. Henry’s a good example. You have him 107
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wearing dresses, for God’s sake. What next? Will I be wearing corsets by the end of January?” Laughter returned from Matt’s side of the room as the mention of Henry returned his earlier humor. Ariel glared at him before walking over to a spot only inches from where Cray stood. “He was helping me hem my dress for Christmas.” “Don’t threaten me,” Cray said, looking down his nose at her. Threaten him? What on earth did he mean? “Excuse me? I don’t believe I intimidated you in any way.” “You told me you’d still be here at Christmas. I consider that a threat on your part.” His lush lips turned up on one side, telling Ariel it was Cray’s attempt at humoring her. She remembered all too well at how those lips felt, branding her skin only mere hours ago. Ariel playfully slapped at his chest, hoping to ward off her wayward thoughts, then turned and walked away, taking a seat beside Matt on the settee. “Unfortunately for you, I’ll be here well past Christmas. Did my mother inform you that the date to our wedding has been moved?” “C.W. wired me. I believe he said it would be the first of January.” “And you’re not angry?” “The sooner, the better, sweetness. I won’t allow you to run from me come our wedding night.” Cray watched as the blood drained from her face. What was it about the night they were to be married that seemed to frighten her? Had she been so misinformed about what goes on between a man and a woman? Did she consider enjoying what a man could do for his wife as sinful? It had better be one of the two and not that her innocence was no longer intact. If he had to marry her for his unknowingly compromising her, then she had better have her much-protected maidenhead. “Did Ariel tell you about her good news?” Henry asked as he returned to the room, wearing attire more suited for a man. “Sorry to inform you, Henry, but I thought you looked much better the other way. What do you say, Matt?” Cray asked, his gaiety 108
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returning. “I don’t know if red is his color,” Matt chuckled, brushing the black strays of hair away from his eyes. “Maybe lavender or a pale shade of yellow.” “Very funny,” Henry grumbled. “What news would Henry be speaking about, sweetness?” Cray turned his gaze on Ariel. Damn, even in the lightest of hours, she looked good enough to devour. Could he possibly wait another couple of weeks? Ariel’s face brightened and her blue eyes twinkled as they turned up on the corners, creating adoring little crows’ feet sorely missing from her young face. Had she had a happy life, Cray was sure they would have been ever-present by now. “My sister, Cheri, and her husband, Ryder, will be present for my…our wedding. They’ll arrive the day before.” Her voice lightened when speaking of someone she obviously loved. Cray found himself suddenly wishing she would react in the same way when speaking about him. “That’s wonderful news for you. Are they coming from Rhode Island?” He was curious about who the couple holding her affection might be. “No, they live in Arizona. Ryder Storm is a marshal there.” Her chest puffed like a peacock, unmistakably proud of the people she talked about. “They are important to you?” “Yes,” she mumbled. He noted her uncertainty as to whether or not he would accept anyone from her family. “Then they are welcome here.” He saw the apprehension leave her body as a smile of appreciation transformed her face with a gentle radiance. “After all, this will soon be your home, too.”
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CHAPTER 12
“Henry!” Cray called from his study, before turning his contempt on the irritating cuss sitting behind him in a leather, high-backed chair, guffawing at the predicament Cray had once again found himself a party to. Matt sat doubled over, trying his damnedest to keep from laughing, though he failed miserably. Tears glistened in his humor-filled blue eyes as he held his stomach in pleasure-pain, caused by his relentless chortles. “I really find your pleasantry sorely misplaced,” Cray scolded. “The little fool has gone too far this time.” “He’s hardly little,” Matt said between his snickers. Cray sent Matt a scathing glare before returning to the opened door. “Henry!” He roared loud enough to send the animals fleeing for cover as the king of the jungle threatened war. “By God, Henry, if you don’t come down here this minute, I’ll see you strung up and flogged!” “A harmless prank,” Matt said to Cray’s back, his voice light in its 110
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gaiety. “I’m sure Henry only meant it in fun.” “Fun?” Cray turned around, his voice deep and lethal. Matt wisely clamped his mouth shut from saying another word, though the everpresent smile remained. “Fun? He nailed the damn rolled-top to my writing desk down. Do you have any idea how much money this piece cost me? I had it sent here especially for my study and he had the audacity to take nails and pound them through the beautifully finished wood. It isn’t even fixable.” Matt shrugged, then brushed away the hair falling into his face, clearing his vision. “Just think though, every time you see the holes from the nails, you’ll be reminded of the spirited fellow.” Cruel laughter bubbled up from Cray’s chest. “As though I want to be reminded of him every time I enter my study to look over my ledgers.” He turned back to the door, bellowing, “Henry!” “You called?” Henry playfully stuck his head in the door, startling Cray, who jumped. He certainly had tenacity, Cray would give him that much. He grasped Henry by the shirtfront, hauling the pretentious boy only inches from his face. “What on God’s earth did you think you were doing to my desk?” A lopsided grin stretched across Henry’s face, causing Cray to wonder where he’d gone wrong. His youngest brother refused to show fear in his presence, even when his mood soured to the point short of murder. “I wondered how long it might take you to find it,” he answered noncommittally. “You don’t even have the courtesy to lie about it? You nailed an expensive piece of furniture shut and marred its surface, for God’s sake. Where was your head?” Cray waited patiently for Henry to come up with a clever excuse. When he said nothing, Cray released his hold on him, throwing his hands skyward, and began pacing the room, feeling much like a caged lion. Then turned to his brother, saying, “Tell 111
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me why then. Can you at least give me a satisfactory reason?” “Because you’re not a very nice person sometimes, Craylen” Henry held his position by the door. His back rested against the doorjamb as he crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “What?” Cray cocked one eyebrow heavenward. He may not have known what he expected Henry to say, but certainly not that he was an unlikeable man. “What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Henry shrugged, feigning indifference. “The truth hurts, Craylen. It means exactly what I said. You are not a nice person.” “Haven’t I given you a place to stay? Treated you with respect, even as an adult, though your actions prove you are not? When you’ve pulled your pranks in the past, I’ve let them go without much in the way of punishment. But now, you’ve spoiled a perfectly expensive piece of furniture. I should have you thrashed, for God’s sake.” Cray clenched his jaw and said through closed teeth, “What the hell did I ever do to you that caused you to think I’m not a nice person?” “You made Ariel cry.” Cray whirled from his pacing, glaring at Henry. Simply put, Henry must have overheard his argument with Ariel the night before. Cray made a mental note to remember his house was filled with guests. Damn, but he was used to his privacy. Had he expected Henry to complain about Craylen’s absent attention? Certainly not. But this—making Ariel cry. Where the hell had that come from? “I made Ariel cry?” Cray asked in a much calmer tone than he felt. “Yes, she cried the entire night. I heard her in her bedroom and by the looks of her, she probably didn’t get much sleep either.” “I suppose that, too, is my fault. What shall you do to me next? Break every piece of china and crystal I own?” Henry eyed him long enough to give Cray the impression he had just given Henry another grand idea. “Don’t even think about it.” “Then don’t upset Ariel anymore.” 112
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“Christ! What am I to do, Matt?” He turned his regard to the man who sat quietly listening to the exchange from his chair. “Shall I get Henry’s permission every time I feel the need to talk to my willful bride-to-be?” “Sounds like it might be a good idea,” Matt chuckled, obviously still humored by Cray’s obstinate little brother. “Unless, of course, you put little value on the things you own.” Henry cleared his throat to get Cray’s attention. “Is there anything else you want from me?” He clasped his hands behind his broad back. “Yes.” Cray studied the expression on Henry’s face. Was this the only one of his brother’s pranks, or if were there more to follow? What else might he find as a result of Ariel’s night of sobbing? Suddenly, Cray’s thoughts shifted focus. Had Ariel actually cried the entire night? A hollow ache weighed heavy in his chest at the thought of being the reason for her torment. Cray shook the notion off as quickly as it began, he couldn’t afford to unleash his carefully bound emotions again. “Get the tools and undo your handiwork.” * * * The rich aroma of succulent beef wafted up the stairs, interrupting his moment of solitude. Craylen had retired to his chamber to avoid further irritation. Henry had promptly removed the blessed nails from his desk, leaving gaping holes in the natural beauty of the wood. Damn, he wanted to have the boy whipped but couldn’t bring himself to touch his brother. In Henry’s earlier years, Cray found himself sorely absent to his brother’s ever growing tricks played upon the rest of his family. His Mother, Tabitha had wrote him during the war, telling him of Henry’s often rotten behavior, concerning her greatly. With C.W.’s constant non-appearance, Tabitha was left with the raising of the youngest sibling. Since returning from his stint with the Union, his mother had often 113
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begged Cray to take Henry off her hands. Cray had denied her, using the excuse that his lifestyle wouldn’t be a positive influence on someone so young in years. A rumble sounded in his stomach, calling hungrily to the aroma drifting about the house. Cray had purposefully waited to make his way downstairs, hoping to avoid the guests residing in his house. Would he ever have his blessed solitude again? Not likely. Grasping the dinner jacket hanging across the back of the chair, he shoved an arm into each sleeve and headed for the dining room. Certainly at this late hour, all had taken their meal, including Matt, who had impertinently invited himself to stay, not wanting to miss any more of Henry’s antics. Only one remaining servant stood in the otherwise empty dining room. A sigh of relief escaped Cray’s chest as he walked to the buffet lined with roast beef smothered in a rich gravy sauce, buttered potatoes, and freshly baked bread, still steaming from the oven. Craylen heaped his plate close to overflowing as the day’s lack of food gnawed at his empty stomach. The servant quickly filled a crystal glass with white wine from the decanter left to the side of the serving table, then exited the room. Seated, Cray laid the linen napkin beside his plate, grasped the fork and heaped a fair amount of roast onto his sliced bread. He raised a fork-full to his mouth as Matt re-entered the room, stopping his hand short of its mark. “Go ahead and eat. Don’t let me interrupt you.” “And here I thought you had already left for the evening. Don’t you have someplace to go?” “Not really.” Matt took a seat opposite Cray, folding his hands atop the smooth, polished table, giving Craylen his undivided attention. Lucky me. But the sarcastic thought was left unsaid. Cray narrowed an eye at Matt. “Not even a business to run?” “It will run itself until I arrive. You know that.” “I ought to fire your ungrateful ass,” Cray mumbled, taking interest 114
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in the food before him again. “Did you eat?” “Yes, thanks for caring.” A humph left Cray’s throat. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking I did. Politeness calls for me to ask since you insist on sitting here while I enjoy my meal.” “I ate earlier with everyone else as you so rudely didn’t.” “Since when did you care how I treat my guests?” Matt grinned. “I merely noted the fact your presence was missed.” “By whom? Ariel? Her mother?” Cray laughed, not feeling the humor. “I had heard of Adelaine’s return as well as Clifford’s; reason enough not to come down for the dinner hour. I take it the meal was satisfactory.” “As always. Your chef is excellent.” “The finest. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to enjoy my dinner.” Cray noted Matt eyed his food with an open curiosity. “What is it? Didn’t you get enough to eat earlier?” “No, quite the opposite I suppose.” Matt looked again at his plate. “I was just observing the beef. We had chicken for our meal. Does your chef always prepare a second dish for you?” “No, but I suppose with the amount of people now feeding themselves at my table, the chef was forced to fix a second dish for me. Now, if you don’t mind.” Cray used his fork to point toward the doorway. “I believe you have work to do, and my stomach needs feeding.” Matt stood. “Shall I look forward to seeing you later?” “I’m not sure, possibly. At this point, I don’t know what this night holds for me.” “Well, then, good evening. Enjoy your solitary meal.” Matt walked out the door, leaving Cray to himself to glower. He lifted his waiting fork-full of beef and bread to his mouth. Instantly, his eyes teared as his tongue seemed to burst into flames. Cray quickly swallowed the mouthful of food and brought his waiting 115
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wine glass to his lips, taking a deep pull. His lips puckered as the smell of vinegar assailed his senses and he spewed the liquid across the table. “Henry!” Cray bellowed, hearing Matt’s answering chuckles all the way to the waiting conveyance as the front door closed behind him. The dad-blame fool would certainly pay for this one. “Henry!” * * * Red velvet lay across Ariel’s lap as she sat in the parlor, working on her dress, when Cray’s bellow was heard about the house for the second time today. Her gaze immediately went to the man who so innocently ignored Cray’s calling. A giggle erupted as she quickly stifled the sound behind her hand. Henry gazed up from the book he so skillfully pretended to be interested in. Ariel might have believed he actually read the thing if it were “War and Peace,” or something of the readable nature. Instead, he thumbed through a book of laws and legislatures, every minute or so, turning another page. To Ariel, it appeared Henry patiently waited for something, like the roar coming from the other room. The bellow sounded again. “I do believe Craylen is calling for you, Henry,” Ariel stated, a knowing grin stretched across her face. “I thought dinner was wonderful, but what on earth did you do to Craylen’s?” “Have you ever heard of harissa?” At the shake of her head, Henry continued, “It’s a hot sauce mixed of ground red pepper, garlic, and oil. Cray’s chef uses it sparingly in some dishes. I sort of dropped the entire contents of the jar into the beef that Cray’s having for dinner.” “Henry!” Cray’s shout came again. Henry laughed before placing the book he held on the table, then headed for the dining room. “I’m sure the vinegar I replaced his white wine with did little to cool down his hot tongue either,” he said as he left the room. Ariel giggled again. What on earth would Craylen do to Henry? The young man was certainly spirited. She gathered up her dress and 116
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sewing thread, then headed for the stairs. Her room would be the safest place to hide when the lit fuse reached the dynamite. * * * Hours had passed since the incident at dinner, but Craylen’s temper still burned as the numbness of his tongue was a constant reminder of the ground red pepper in his dinner. Cray walked to the window of his chamber, wearing nothing but his drawers, looking down on the light yet burning in the large stables behind the house. Henry would be kept busy for hours. Though Cray felt like severely beating Henry for his continued antics, he gave him a chore that would serve as a reminder the next time he felt like playing a practical joke on Cray or his staff. Henry was probably at this very moment on his hands and knees, scrubbing the horses’ stalls from which he had just hauled manure out of, his knuckles raw and sore from the strong lye soap he used. The next time Henry thought to cause havoc in Craylen’s household, Cray hoped he’d remember his lesson well and curb his desire to raise Cain. The boards beneath his feet were cool, due to the falling temperature and the dying fire in his hearth, as he crossed the floor to his bed. Sleep might as well be on his list of things he sorely needed, seeing as how he opted to stay home the first night in five years. Since opening his first gaming den, he had spent his nights wiling away with women, gambling, and whiskey. He had no family to look after, no one to care about. Craylen had only himself. Now, with the arrival of the little minx down the hall, he had more people than he cared to have residing beneath his roof. Cray wasn’t used to anyone invading his much needed privacy, privy to his surroundings, his life. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and wake up come morning, only to discover the last few months of his life were simply a dream. Cray sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the glowing embers of the fire. Did he really want to forget Ariel? Or was it time to lay his 117
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distrust aside? No matter how he tried, he could no longer fight his growing attraction to her. Adelaine appeared more the manipulator than Ariel, and Cray would lay odds that Adelaine had orchestrated the entire turn of events herself. The possibility of Ariel telling the truth loomed brightly before him. He wanted to believe in her. If it weren’t for this one deception separating them, Cray knew he could easily fall for Ariel. Dare he trust her enough to lay himself open, raw and vulnerable, and chance her deceiving him again? He tossed aside the quilt, and slid a foot beneath the cover, only to be stopped by something wet, slippery and cool at the bottom of the bed. He withdrew his foot, wiping the offensive liquid on the top cover. Lard. He cringed at finding the animal fat between his sheets. A deep chuckle burst from his chest. Would Henry never quit? He’d do well to remember never to upset his wife-to-be again, at least while Henry resided beneath his roof. Just as Cray walked to the door to call one of his servants, a scream split the silent air, sounding much like that of Ariel. Cray threw back his door and ran the length of the hall.
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CHAPTER 13
Large, thick fingers seemed to grope about her body, her nightwear. Ariel’s hands reached out blindly, swiping through the air. “No!” she screamed. “God, no!” Her legs drew up, contacting nothing but emptiness, twisting herself helplessly within her quilt. A sick, tormented face of a man wearing short-cut blond curls loomed precariously above her. “Please,” she pleaded pitifully. “Please go away. I won’t tell a soul.” Tears free fell down her cheeks, soaking the cool pillow beneath her head as she turned her face from side to side, trying hopelessly to avoid his thin lips, his acid breath. The stench of sweat assailed her senses as she tried to stop each intake of air, not wanting to live through her past yet again. Sobs wracked her tired body; sweat dotted her clammy brow. Ariel tossed and turned, wrapping the quilt yet tighter about her, hampering each breath she took. Her lungs pained from the lack of air as she gasped and her arms continued to flail. “Go away,” Ariel cried in a 119
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voice barely audible. “I promise not to tell. Just leave me be.” “Ariel,” a deep voice split the silence around her, the tone deep and compelling. She fought the darkness, wanting to go to the voice, powerlessly drawn to it. Her arms fluttered wildly, trying to escape the torment, wanting, needing to be drawn to the man whose voice invaded her dream. Powerful hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Help me,” she whispered in a frightened tone. Unsure whether the man on the other side of her dream was any better than the man in it. “Help me.” Her body shook in sobs. “I’m here, Ariel.” The voice came again, reassuring, as his grip seemed to draw her into a cavern of warmth, safety. Gone were the thick fingers and the curled hair, replaced by a face so handsome, she couldn’t bring herself to glance away. Ariel blinked several times, trying to ascertain dream from reality. She reached for his strong face, highlighted by the fire still burning in the hearth. His cheeks felt rough from a day of whisker’s growth as she ran her palms over the contours. Craylen was real, here in her bedroom, sitting upon her bed, holding her within his hands, staring down upon her with concern written in the depths of his eyes. This was no dream, but reality. The enigma of a man. “You were dreaming, Ariel.” His deep voice soothed her fears, her trembling body. Her gaze left his, as it traveled to his chest, molded by the muscles lying beneath. He wore nothing but his drawers. His hands tensed on her shoulders as her eyes boldly roamed over his flesh. Never had she seen so much of a man. Even the night their fates brought them together, his flesh was obscured in her haziness. Her gaze traveled back to his eyes, locking with the hunger she now saw. Ariel suddenly felt powerless within his dominion as her limbs numbed and became heavy. She couldn’t run from him if she tried, no longer in control of her body. Her mind cleared to all but the man 120
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sitting before her. Ariel grasped his face between her palms. “Make me forget,” she pleaded, her gaze traveling from one of his eyes to the other. “Take away the memories.” Every muscle in Craylen’s body tightened. Turn away, he told himself, though he moved not a muscle as her hands held his face with a tenderness he thought absent from the human race. “Make me forget the memories,” she pleaded. Her eyes were tortured, haunted from a past Cray knew nothing about. Don’t let her do this, his thoughts warned. Cray knew if he allowed her, she would ensnare him in the deceit of her web; a fly caught in the spider’s lair. His mind frantically worked to mortar the bricks carefully stacked to shut out all intruders; his emotions hiding behind the barrier. A black widow came to mind, enticing, luring the male until he was secured within the haze of seduction. Then once the female had received all she had sought, stings her prey and carelessly discards the empty shell now left of the male. Would he have anything left should he give in to his desire, her allure? Could he take the chance of losing himself? Dare he allow himself her pleasures and risk unleashing his carefully bound empathy? The answer was simple. No. He couldn’t risk allowing her inside; his life was his own. Ariel’s hands stayed his face as her lips drew closer to lay tender kisses upon it, his cheeks, his mouth. Damn, but he was a man. What she offered, no true male could turn away from. Cray’s mouth lay claim to hers, tasting the saltiness of her tears upon her succulent lips. Hunger drove his desire, tightening the string to the bow as his body hardened in response. Damn himself, but he wanted her with a fervor never matched before. He moved his hands from her shoulders to the small of her back, drawing her into his embrace as his tongue encroached upon her mouth. He thrust inside, tasting of her honeyed sweetness. Cray’s hunger multiplied, driving him to do what hours ago he thought to avoid. He would take her. Here. Now. 121
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Soon, she would be his wife and the time or place would no longer matter. If he got her with child, no one would question when the time was so close to the day they were to be married. Etiquette no longer ran his actions, but carnality, what a man needs from a woman, a desire as old as Adam and Eve. Ariel’s hands slipped between their close bodies, traveling to his chest, each stopping atop his breast. His nipples hardened to her touch, yearning for her unskilled ministrations, pushing him deeper into the throes of raging desire. Gone were his inhibitions of earlier. Wrapping himself deeply within her answering warmth was the only remaining thought; losing himself in the end. Cray released her mouth as his lips traveled the column of her neck to the hollow pulse point at the base. Ariel’s fingers threaded through his hair at the top of his head, keeping it from falling into his view as his tongue darted out, capturing the salty drops of perspiration gathering on her heated flesh. Ariel’s body trembled beneath his touch. Cray knew the sins of her flesh craved the same as he and he meant to see it to its end. Stopping his impelling force long enough to lay her upon her pillow and toss away the quilt covering her, Cray poised above, bracing a hand on each side of her, searching her eyes for any regrets she might hold. “You will hate me in the morning,” Cray said, knowing, without any doubt, the truth to the statement. Tears welled in her stormy eyes, the color deepened considerably amid the darkness of the room. “I only want to forget.” “Forget what, Ariel? What do you hide from me?” Cray’s eyes narrowed. The hollow ache returned to his chest, warning him. If he had any sense at all, he would run as far away as possible. “I can’t.” Her body trembled. “I need to know what demons haunt you, Ariel. I can’t help you if I don’t.” A single tear slipped past her lashes, creating a wet path to her ear. 122
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“Please, Craylen. Show me how to love.” A deep groan escaped as he felt the battle slip away. He had lost, and would probably suffer the repercussions come morning, but he no longer cared. He wanted her, needed her, and he would be forever damned if he allowed her to slip away now. “You are mine, Ariel—for now and eternity.” Cray lowered his mouth, recapturing her lips. As she slipped her arms behind his neck, anchoring him, Cray glided his hand beneath her pillow to pull her closer. A hard, wooden object hampered any forward movement, drawing his immediate attention. Reluctant to release his hold and fear of what he might find hidden beneath her, Cray slowly withdrew as his fingers enclosed over the edge and pulled the item into view. Cray sat away from Ariel, noting the sudden fear written within the nadir of her eyes. He held the object in full sight, allowing the light from the fire to shine upon it. “What is this that you keep hidden from me?” “Please,” her voice trembled. “It is nothing, only a worthless painting.” Cray’s eyes widened as recognition set in. “A painting of whom I might ask?” His voice took on a cynical tone. “My dear sweet, Ariel. Quite a likeness, wouldn’t you say?” Tremors of fear traveled down her spine. Part of her past lay open and vulnerable. Ariel reached for the cover, pulling the quilt high about her neck, yet still feeling exposed to the contempt residing in his eyes. “Who?” he angrily requested, shaking the portrait in front of her, before he left the bed to pace the quiet room. Only the soft pad of his feet and the snapping logs of the fire could be heard. Icy fingers of dread traveled up her spine, sending gooseflesh popping out across the surface. “Yes.” Ariel held her head high, trying her hardest to remain in control. She didn’t want Cray to witness her tears. She wouldn’t cry. “The portrait is of me.” 123
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A cruel grin split the hardness now present in his jaw. His face appeared to be carved of stone, no longer the heated man she found hovering above her moments ago. His chuckle was almost diabolical, fiendish. “Of course, the likeness is of you, sweetness. But who—might I ask, is the man wrapping himself around you?” Ariel looked to the bed, no longer able to take his censure. How could he taunt her with the past, something left behind months ago? Had her decision not been made for her? Was she not to be Mrs. Craylen Wayne Rollins III? “Ariel?” Cray said her name, laced with abhorrence. “Tell me who the man is?” “Tanner,” she whispered. “The man who you thought me to be in Bridgeport?” Ariel glanced at him for mere seconds, before turning her eyes once again downward. “Yes.” A heartless laugh left his chest. “Charming. And who might I ask is the artist?” Ariel grasped the cover tightly, whitening her knuckles, as fear raked over her taut nerves. “Tanner.” “What is this Tanner’s last name? I should thank him for my wife’s lovely likeness.” “I am not your wife.” Cray crossed the room, dropped the portrait to the bed and grasped her by the shoulders, hauling her against his stone-like frame. “In a few short weeks, you will be. Now what is the man’s last name?” Ariel stared boldly into his menacing eyes and said, “McCabe.” “As in Owen?” Cray’s tone lightened such a minute amount, Ariel thought she had only imagined it. “Owen is Tanner’s father. How do you know him?” “He frequents one of my…I just know of him. The rest is hardly your business.” Craylen released his hold on her and once more picked up the 124
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portrait. He held the likeness in front of him as his eyes carefully studied the picture. Ariel waited for the cruel words of hate sure to come. She knew how society deemed Tanner. Had her own mother not labeled Tanner as a half-breed? And here, he depicted himself in his ancestor’s dress, looking anything but the Indian he appeared. Cray’s eyes narrowed as he returned his scorn to Ariel. “He looks nothing like a McCabe.” “He looks like his grandmother.” “So, this is the man I’m in competition with?” Ariel locked her eyes with Cray, caught off guard by his words. “Competition? It’s you I’m marrying.” “Vows are but words, Miss Montgomery. It is your soul I want. When I bed you, and mark my words, I will, I want my name on your lips, my face haunting your dreams, and my body you crave for. Don’t think me the fool to take leftovers.” Cray tossed the canvas to the bed, where it landed backside up. His eyes centered on the written words, but before Ariel could grasp the painting, he snatched it away. Holding it before the glowing embers, he read the words out loud. “‘A gift to my beloved wife,’” he paused on the last word, clenching his teeth and steeling his jaw before continuing, “‘whom I love more than life itself. Tanner.’ How endearing. This man calls you his wife. Should I take offense?” Ariel rose from the bed, forgetting the spread behind her. She walked to a spot only inches from him and placed both hands on his chest, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her touch. “He must have made it for me as a wedding gift for when we were to be married. I found it in the bottom of my trunks when I arrived here.” Ariel’s gaze searched his. “It is you whom I will marry. You are to be my husband,” she said, as a tear slipped past her lashes. Craylen tilted his head back and laughed cruelly. “You’re damn right and it would do you well to remember that. You are mine, Miss 125
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Montgomery, and on our wedding night, I’ll prove to you the truth to that statement.” Craylen turned from her touch and headed for the door, before Ariel called out to him, stopping his exit. He turned on his heel and glared at her. His hair lay in a disarray. “My painting—” “Catch,” he said as he tossed it into the fire. Fiery sparks flew from the hearth causing Ariel to jump back as Craylen left the room, slamming the door behind him. Before Ariel could grasp the frame, flames licked at the corners, igniting the likeness into redness. She collapsed to the floor in a pool of white cotton as her nightgown flowed about her ankles. She watched the flames lick and burn the portrait, leaving it nothing but scarred and blackened. Funny, she thought, how it mirrored the way Craylen had left her soul, charred beyond repair.
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CHAPTER 14
The large mirror above his chest of drawers shattered, raining tiny shards of glass dancing off the polished wooden floor. He knew throwing the iron sculpture into the mirror did little to help his growing apprehension, yet he couldn’t resist the temptation of releasing tension. How the hell could he have allowed her to weave herself so thoroughly beneath his surface? God, but he didn’t want her there. He wanted no one there. His life belonged to him and he’d be damned before he bowed down to anyone else again. Three days had passed since he had so carelessly thrown Ariel’s painting into the fire, his entire reason for avoiding her. How could he answer for doing something so cold, cynical, or apologize for something instantly regretted? Her look of absolute devastation had nearly done him in and had it not been for his blinding rage, he might have been driven to tears himself. He knew without a doubt, though he hated like hell to admit it, his own reasons for his actions. But how on earth would he ever explain 127
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himself to Ariel without allowing her a glimpse of his toiling turmoil? Seeing the portrait of his to-be-wife in the arms of another had left a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach, one like he had never felt before. He wanted to admit his growing affection for the girl no more than he wanted to return to the hell found in a tiny cell he left years back. What was he to do? He couldn’t hide from her forever. And this Tanner McCabe? How would he react the next time he encountered Tanner’s father, Owen? And he knew full well he would. Owen McCabe frequented the den Darren Westrick ran for him, the one Cray spent so much time at of late. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t in the mood for Matt’s antics and kept himself at bay. Cray rubbed his temple, feeling the full force of the headache lodged within his head. The pain had arrived sometime after his argument with Ariel and had yet to discharge itself. He supposed the amount of bourbon he had consumed in the last few days did little to ease its gnawing pang. The evening meals came and went as Cray holed himself up in his room, consuming very little food. He would certainly not die or waste away. It wouldn’t be the first time he had gone days without food. Evening had once again presented itself. An unshaven Cray, dressed in nothing more than deep blue trousers, a shirt unbuttoned at the throat, and a blue embroidered waistcoat, prepared to leave the house. Of course, tomorrow his headache may make him regret his actions, but he set out anyway to spend another night wallowing in self-pity, bourbon, and women. The ladies hired for this den, paled in comparison to the ones working at The Golden Lion, but at this point, Cray cared little. He wasn’t about to spend a night in Matt Gilson’s company listening to his take on Craylen’s life and how he should treat the little woman who waited at home for him. After the last night spent in Ariel’s company, she was likely out to see his blood shed. With shards of mirror lying about his room, Cray exited the solitude 128
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and headed for the coach he’d asked to be brought around. Bourbon was the foremost thought in his mind. If he couldn’t stop his everrolling thoughts, then he meant to deaden them with alcohol. The stairs beneath his feet went unseen as he descended them rapidly, suddenly in a hurry to put the house and his visions of Ariel behind. If only he could manage the latter, then life as he knew it would return to normal. But as it stood, no amount of whiskey consumed, would rid him of the desire to have her manifesting within him. Green silk caught his gaze as he reached the bottom of the stairs, nearly colliding with him. Cray grasped the slender shoulders, careful not to knock her down in his flight. Tawny eyes locked with vivid blue ones. Damn her to hell. Always in the wrong place at the right time. Taut muscles turned to steel as his stomach clenched, and his heart pained. The shoulders beneath his fingers trembled in fright or…what, Cray refused to think. His gaze searched hers. Eyes of an impending storm haunted his vision, staring back at him, unflinching. Lightning flashed within the depths. Would the unleashing of tears follow or had she cried her last drop? Ariel backed from his grasp, casting her eyes downward. Damn if he didn’t hate himself. How would he ever erase the pain of what he’d done? Without a word, Cray walked an arc around her as though getting too close would cause him to feel the repercussions of the upheaval and walked out the door to the front of the house. The quicker he arrived at his destination, the better. * * * Ariel grabbed a handful of green silk in each hand as she took the flight of stairs with fervor, wanting the solitude of her room. Days had gone by without seeing a trace of her future husband. Though she hadn’t intentionally set out to avoid him, he had her. Cray kept himself deliberately at bay. Would his hate forever rule his disposition toward her because of the portrait she so poorly hid beneath her pillow? When 129
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she had carelessly hid it, she never thought he’d be in her room, let alone on her bed long enough to find it. Hate consumed Ariel in the hours following their heated exchange. She wanted to despise Cray for destroying her last remaining tie with Tanner. Yet nothing had hurt more than his recent abandonment. How long would he torture her with his absence for a past she couldn’t alter? Their union was destined to fail before it ever began. Visions of hunger-filled eyes challenged her thoughts as Ariel recalled Cray poised above her, ready to claim his right, only to be replaced by the cold eyes she saw in the foyer moments ago. Cray’s anger hadn’t dissipated, nor did she believe it ever would. “A taste for something sweet?” Tina asked, entering her room. “I’ve brought up some chocolates I found while rummaging through the kitchen. I thought they might cheer you.” “I doubt anything would make me feel better at the moment, Tina, but thanks anyway.” Tina laid the silver tray atop a side table, then traveled the distance between them and stood beside Ariel who sat on the bed. “What’s so awful to bring a look of utter despair to your lovely face, Mistress?” “It really is nothing, Tina…although, I fear Mr. Rollins will forever hate me.” A genuine look of concern crossed Tina’s face. “You’re falling in love with him. Is that it?” Ariel’s gaze met her maid’s. “What would give you that idea? This isn’t a marriage bonded by a silly emotion but one forced upon the poor man.” “Yes, but the despair you feel when Mr. Rollins is angry is evident in your eyes. Or the way your face lights up when he enters a room and the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats. It’s all right to admit it. Excuse me for saying so, but he is very handsome.” A weak smile crossed Ariel’s face as another tear slipped down her cheek. She ran the back of her hand beneath her nose. “I would have to 130
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be blind not to notice how truly handsome he is, but I hardly think that means I’ve fallen in love with the pretentious fool.” Tina crossed the room to where she had left the fine chocolates, and brought them to Ariel. “Then he’s not the only fool.” Ariel widened her eyes, ignoring the outstretched tray of sweets. Had her maid actually thought to call her the jester? “And who else might you think a fool?” “You, Mistress.” At least Tina had the courtesy to cast her gaze downward. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. You’re too stubborn to see that you’ve fallen in love with him.” My God, Ariel thought, was it true? Against her better judgment, she knew without a doubt Tina spoke what she had sought to deny. The realization nearly forced the breath from her chest. Had Ariel not already been sitting, surely her knees would have given way, depositing her upon the floor. The blood drained from her face. Not only was she in danger of living a life married to a man who detested her, she now was resigned to a fate of never having the feelings she had long disclaimed returned. Could she possibly add to her mounting agony? Glancing back at Tina, Ariel said, “What do I do now?” The fight left her, deflating her. She no longer felt the earlier courage to go after Craylen’s love. For if she failed, the repercussions would leave her forever scarred. “Go after him.” Tina’s voice filtered through her musings. “How? He hates me. How do you fight for someone who obviously wants so little to do with you?” “Are you so sure he doesn’t?” Ariel chuckled, the humor of it nonexistent. “How could you not see? Would a man who loved me treat me as he has?” Tina knelt before the bed, bringing herself eye level with Ariel, laying the tray beside her. “Well, you’ll never know wallowing here in self pity, Mistress. If it were me, I’d go after him.” “I wish I could.” A ray of hope filtered through the blackened 131
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clouds shrouding her mind as Tina headed for the door. Could she pursue him? Get him to love her? “The choice is yours,” she said, as she paused by the entrance. Until the moment Cray had found the painting hidden beneath her pillow, he had acted in hunger, desire. Anger wasn’t even resident in his actions before the offensive article presented itself. Finding the painting had altered his yearning to have her. Cray was no longer passionate but furious. Heat radiated from the cores of his eyes, nearly igniting the painting from their intensity. Could Cray have acted out of anger, possible jealousy? Dare she hope? “Where did Mr. Rollins go tonight?” “I don’t know, but I’m sure I could easily find out.” “Then while you’re at it, have a carriage sent around. I’m going to find out exactly what Mr. Rollins does with his evenings.” A smile crossed Tina’s face, obviously pleased with Ariel’s decision to follow Craylen. “Right away, Mistress.” * * * The scent of the ocean weighed heavy in the air as salt clung to his skin and a light snow dusted the ground. Cray pulled his heavy coat tightly around him as he entered the rustic building where the words, Silver Dollar, were written in bright red paint, reminiscent of the West. If he had any brains at all, Cray would turn around and head back the way he came. Coming here in his present state of mind would certainly bring him no good. The Silver Dollar catered to the crude, unpolished. At any given time, a fight was sure to break out, and if Cray wasn’t careful to keep to himself, he’d certainly wind up in the middle. He had spent his past few nights here, overindulging himself in bourbon and women, but he had yet to bed any. Wood paneling adorned the walls of the gaming den, casting the establishment in dim lighting. Lanterns glowed atop each table, allowing the patrons soft glowing illumination to keep their business to themselves, the way they 132
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preferred. Cray walked to an abandoned booth near the back of the den. The enclosure was left in the shadows as the lantern on the table barely flickered. He took off his outer coat and tossed it over the back of the booth before sliding in. A comely maid, bedecked in red, breasts nearly spilling over the low neckline, sashayed in his direction carrying a bottle of his favorite bourbon. Madeline. Cray had toyed with her for three days now, leaving her wanting when the night came to a close. But each night when he returned, she gave him her undivided attention, hoping oneday her focus would bring her purchase. “Mr. Rollins,” she purred in a syrup-filled voice. “I’m glad you decided to come by tonight.” Cray patted his leg, which she settled her well-rounded backside on. Black hair tumbled down her back in soft curls. Eyes of coal heated as they looked upon him in blatant desire. Cray tangled his fingers through the silky strands of hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her head so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Why do you continue to pursue me, Madeline? What is it you want from me?” Cray studied the depths, waiting to see the lie born there. She was after his money, nothing more. Her ruby-painted bottom lip protruded in what Cray thought a wellpracticed pout. “I only wish to please you, Mr. Rollins. If you’d let me, of course.” “I’m sure any time spent in your company—alone, would be a good time. But unfortunately for me, it’s not the kind I’m looking for at the moment.” Cray reached around her, poured himself a bourbon and downed the fiery liquid, the answering warmth spreading throughout his body. Madeline splayed her fingers across his chest beneath his waistcoat. “Are you sure I couldn’t persuade you differently?” Cray’s gaze traveled to the rise and fall of her ample bust line as it 133
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threatened to spill from her too-tight dress. So much so, part of each rosy nipple, darkened by rouge, was displayed for his view. Hell, he must be a fool to turn down something so eagerly offered. Pouring himself another whiskey, Cray tossed back the liquid, hoping for its numbing effect to quickly dull his senses and rolling thoughts of Ariel. Damn himself for thinking of her when he had a perfectly serviceable—and quite willing, woman within his arms. His eyes traveled to the swell of her breast again. “You want me, Mr. Rollins,” she purred, inhaling deeply, causing her breasts to swell even more above the dress’s line. “It’s in the way you look at me.” “You mean the way I look at your breasts, Madeline?” Cray sneered as he placed one large hand over her soft flesh, squeezing it within his palm. A small moan left her throat as she stared at him heatedly. “You can have those and much more if you’ll just…” her words trailed off as the doors to the den swung open and a small, petite woman entered Cray’s domain. All noise in the den quickly ceased as his gaze trained on the woman boldly standing there. Silver hair cascaded down her back as she stiffened her shoulders and her eyes traveled about the dim room. Though the dark establishment concealed the color of the orbs, he knew intimately, the hue was summer-skies. Her eyes stopped as they locked on his then lowered to his hand, still enclosed around a large white breast. Ariel’s eyes widened, and even in the darkness of the room, Cray could see the color draining from her face. Before he could even remove his hand, Ariel turned and fled the noisy den. “Damn,” Cray swore out loud, releasing the breath he held in his chest. Now what the hell was he to do? Not thinking his actions through, he tossed Madeline to the floor, grabbed his wool coat and headed for the doors of the den. He had to make her understand, Cray thought, causing him to laugh cruelly at himself. What was he to make her understand? That it was perfectly all right to be fondling another woman’s breast? 134
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“Damn,” he swore again before hearing his name stopped him from following the spirited pixie. “Craylen,” a deep voice came from a shadowy corner of the room. Cray turned on his heel to find a blonde Owen McCabe sitting with a woman on either side of him. “God’s teeth, I didn’t expect to see you in here tonight.” “Mr. McCabe,” Cray nodded, greeting through clenched teeth. “What brings you to town?” “Have a seat.” He patted the chair next to him. “It’s been a long time. I thought you’d be glad to see an old friend.” “Yes, a friend.” Cray narrowed an eye at Owen before taking the offered seat. Ariel would just have to wait. “But are you?” Owen chuckled, causing Craylen to miss the figure that had been watching him from the corner of the room, slip out the doors to the gaming den. “Once a friend, always a friend. Can I buy you a bourbon?” “A bourbon it is.”
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CHAPTER 15
The door to her room slammed with such force, the paintings hanging on the adjoining wall bounced against the surface, threatening to fall. Salty tears dried on Ariel’s cheeks from her endless flood. No more, she swore. Never would she allow Craylen within the walls of her heart again. How could she be so foolish to believe he might care? Ariel crossed the room pacing the wooden floor, ignoring the dying fire in the hearth, not feeling the answering chill of the room. What now? Tina had tried her best to calm Ariel on the carriage ride home. But how could one defend the actions of her future husband? There Craylen sat, in a gaming establishment, with one hand covering the breast of some tart. Ariel flung the vase from the bedside table against the door, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Water splashed to the floor as the orchids fell limp in a pile of broken glass. What did she care? Her spirit was as wilted as the flowers lying in a heap. Tina had wisely left Ariel to herself when they arrived home and 136
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Ariel ran straight for her chambers. Ariel was certainly in no mood for cheering. She wanted to be left alone to wallow in pity. God, she hated herself. All her life she had groveled in selfcondolences. What would make her believe life here would be any better? Tears slipped down her cheeks anew as she crossed the room to the lace-covered window. Everything about this room reminded her of the man. This wasn’t her bedroom, but his house. Craylen’s stamp was all over the premises. Her coverlet still smelled of him from when he laid her upon the bed. The hearth was a constant reminder of his anger over finding the portrait. The window brought flashbacks of the first kiss they shared in this house. “Oh, God,” she cried, sinking to the floor by the window. How was she ever to hold her head high again? Her frame shook as the onslaught of tears wracked her body once more and she drew her knees to her chest, hugging them. Destined to be forever miserable, Ariel looked to the heavens for answers. Surely, the good Lord wouldn’t punish her forever for her failing faith. A brief prayer of repentance and guidance spilled past her lips before she once again hid her face in her hands. If she ever needed a sign that God above was with her, it was now. The panes to her window rattled, startling Ariel from her reverie. She scrambled on her knees from the opening in a pile of green silk. Her gaze fastened on the lace curtain, chuckling to herself. It was nothing more than the wind. Ariel picked herself up from the floor, brushing her hand over the hopeless wrinkles now creasing the skirt to her gown. Attempting to right her appearance, she ran a nervous hand over the strays of her hair, which had fallen from her coiffure. The glass panes rattled again, sounding more like a knock than the doings of the wind. Cautiously, Ariel walked to the window and drew back one side to the lace curtain, peering into the darkness of the night. 137
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Nothing. Just as she was feeling. Just as she would always feel. A dark face suddenly peered into the panes, causing Ariel to release her grip on the curtain. A tiny screech left her lips as she jumped back from the window. The knock came again. My God, Ariel thought, her eyes widening. Tanner McCabe stood outside on her balcony. Walking to the window again, she slid back the latch and opened it. Tanner stepped into the room, rubbing his hands up and down the sleeves of his coat, attempting to warm himself. Ariel walked to the hearth and threw another log to the fire, using the poker to stoke the flames. Crackles filled the dead air. Within seconds, the tendrils of fire licked at the wood. “The room should be warmed shortly,” Ariel told Tanner, not knowing what to say to the man who expected to be her husband one day, only to be told she was marrying another. Two months absence now felt like an eternity. Though Tanner was truly handsome and his sudden appearance in her life had shaken her, her heart ached for one, Craylen Rollins. Tanner gripped her shoulders from behind, turning her to face him. The lines of his face were somehow deeper, more pronounced as though the life he led had been a hard one. Why hadn’t she noticed them before? Tanner’s black hair lay unbound, lying in silken folds across his shoulders and down his back. His eyes were cold, unfeeling. Ariel touched his cheek with her cool fingers. He was real, standing here in her bedroom. Oh, God. What would Craylen do if he found the flesh and blood man from the painting standing here, in her bedchamber? Upon seeing the likeness, he had destroyed the portrait beyond repair. In fear of finding out exactly Craylen’s reaction, Ariel said, “You must leave, Tanner, before anyone finds you here.” He placed his palm on the side of her damp cheek. A small smile grew on his lips. “I’ve been standing outside your window for some 138
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time. All are abed. No one will find me here.” Ariel glanced into his dark eyes, looking for the love she once saw there. Somehow, now his eyes looked void of emotion, but filled with something else, something akin to possession. “But Craylen…surely you will suffer at his hands if he finds you here in my room.” Tanner glared into the depths of her eyes, her soul. “We needn’t worry about the man. After all, you left him with his arms around another.” “He had his hand on her…her… Oh, God, how embarrassing for me.” Ariel could no longer look Tanner in the eye as her gaze traveled downward, resting on his worn brown boots. Tanner chuckled, but not sounding like that of humor, more like malice. “You have no reason to be shamed, Ariel.” He tilted her face up so her eyes would again look into his. “It’s Mr. Rollins who should be humiliated. The man doesn’t deserve a woman like you.” Now, it was Ariel’s turn to laugh. “You know yourself I have nothing to offer Mr. Rollins. My father took from me what I had to give. I’ll never know his love.” The hands on Ariel’s shoulder tightened painfully, causing her to yelp in plea. Tanner immediately loosened his grip. “You want this man’s love?” he asked, perplexed. Ariel stared at him helplessly for admitting more than she should have. Tanner released his hold and began pacing the room in obvious agitation. Finally, he came to a halt, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at her. “I don’t understand you, Ariel. Two months ago, you spoke to me of undying love.” His voice raised an octave. “Now, you speak of this man’s love? Does he deserve you, Ariel? He had his hands all over some whore at the Silver Dollar for crying out loud!” Ariel realized Tanner must have been at the gaming establishment. How else would he know where Craylen had his hands? She had been 139
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too distraught to understand what his earlier comment had meant. “You’ve been following us?” “Not you, the good Mr. Rollins,” Tanner spat in disgust. “You think this woman is the only one he dallies with, Ariel? I’ve seen him at his other club, The Golden Lion.” Ariel narrowed her eyes, contemplating the exact meaning to his words. “His other club? I don’t follow you.” “Craylen Rollins III owns gambling dens, my dear. My father frequents the one you saw Craylen in tonight.” Bringing her brows together over the bridge of her nose, Ariel gave Tanner her back as she stepped to the window, glancing into the darkness. “Then it all makes sense. Why Cray is out all hours of the night and sleeps half the day. And these women you see him with?” “They work for him. Don’t think him fool enough to keep his hands off them, Ariel.” Tanner walked up behind her, his feet silently moving over the boards like a trained warrior, reminding her of his proud heritage. He stood so close, his breath fanned her ear as he whispered, “Come with me, Ariel. Let me take you away from all this.” The warmth behind her was a temptation she couldn’t easily dismiss. This was the man she had loved for five long years, the man whom she thought to marry, the man she loved at one time with all her heart. But now, months later, it felt as though it was nothing more than a girlish infatuation. Her feelings for Cray seemed to run much deeper. The idea of leaving Craylen behind left a sourness in her stomach she couldn’t ignore. “I don’t know, Tanner. It just isn’t right,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes as his arms encircled her waist, bringing her back flush with his chest. A shiver ran down the length of her spine as a warning of something amiss. “What’s not right about it, Ariel? You are mine. You always will be. Craylen stole what belonged to me. I can’t allow him to take you away.” 140
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Ariel turned in his embrace and framed his face with her hands. “Don’t you see, Tanner? I don’t belong to you. I belong to Craylen. No matter how I try to deny the truth, he lays claim to me.” Tanner’s face turned dark in anger. “Have you given yourself to him?” “No!” “Then he lays no claim to you. You are mine, Ariel. He wants you no more than the whores at his gaming dens.” Ariel tore herself from his embrace, walking toward the flames in the hearth. “How can you say such things? How would you know?” “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Tonight, before you arrived, his lips were all over that whore’s face and flesh, his hands on her body. And you want that mouth to kiss you, those hands to seek your most intimate places?” Ariel closed her eyes to the fire, still seeing the orange glow behind her lids. She remembered all too well how his mouth lay claim to her, those lush lips teasing, coaxing her into a wanton response; how his hands had boldly heated her flesh, driving her beyond thought or control. Her flesh heated just at the thought of being in his arms, sickening her. How could she react to him in such a manner when she obviously meant so little, as Tanner had said, no more than the whores working in his dens. Hadn’t she seen it first hand? A sob tore from her throat as she opened her eyes to the flames. “Oh, God, Tanner. What am I to do?” He walked up behind her again, laying a hand on her shoulder. Ariel quickly turned and was enveloped in his embrace. “What am I to do?” Tanner ran a hand down her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Come with me. Let’s leave now before he makes his way home.” She tilted her head up to look in the eyes of the man who held her. “I don’t know if I should.” “Don’t think about it, Ariel. Come with me now.” Tanner 141
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descended his mouth upon hers, claiming it. Wanting to believe Tanner, Ariel kissed him back as her arms encircled his neck. His tongue pushed past her lips and into her mouth, sweeping the inside. Gone was the passion stoking her blood like the embers of a fire. Where had the almost unbearable heat gone that she had felt in Craylen’s arms? Her insides repelled the advances of Tanner. Her arms ached to push him away. Ariel released her hold on his neck as she pulled from his kiss. His eyes blinked in confusion as he stared at her, pleading for an answer. “Tell me you’ll leave with me.” “I don’t think I can, Tanner.” “For chrissake, Ariel! Had you been a minute later, your future husband would have been rutting between some whore’s thighs, if he isn’t at this very moment. Is that how you want to lead your life? Every time Craylen comes home at dawn, aren’t you going to wonder whose thighs he’s been between that night?” The rigging was cut and the wind left her sails. The pit of her stomach burned as her heart panged. Ariel blinked away the tears stinging her eyes, begging for release. She wouldn’t cry. Craylen wasn’t worth it. Not giving another thought to her actions, she grabbed a shawl from her wardrobe and grasped Tanner’s outstretched hand. Tanner and she could leave and be far gone by dawn. Craylen would never find her, even if he had the notion to look, which left a hollow ache within her heart. There was a very real possibility he would never come for her and be even glad she had fled. Then, the better for her. She would never have to lay eyes on his lion-like features again, though she had grown quite accustomed to them, even craved them. Squaring her shoulders, she forced a smile onto her face. With her eyes, she did a final visual sweep of the room she meant to leave behind. “I’m ready.” The smile on Tanner’s face grew as he turned to the window and 142
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led her to the opening he had come through. “We’ll be far away by sunlight and the first chance we get to stop, I’ll see that we’re married.” Intent on what he was doing, Tanner didn’t notice her slight hesitation on his grip at the mention of marriage. Ariel nearly went running for the cover of her bed to hide from the world forever. But the thought of Craylen and what he was likely doing at this minute strengthened her resolve. She would leave with Tanner and never look back. Craylen Wayne Rollins III could have all the women he wanted and more. For after this night, he was no longer bound by their engagement. Tomorrow, he would likely be celebrating her absence. Ariel followed Tanner through the window and onto the balcony gracing the front of Craylen’s vast home. Tanner stepped over the railing first and began making his way down the trellis. Once at the bottom, he held out his hand. “Come, Ariel. You won’t fall.” Without as much as a second thought, Ariel lifted her skirt, stepped over the railing, and began her descent, careful not to catch her gown on the wooden lattice. As she neared the bottom, Tanner’s hands encircled her waist and easily lifted her to the ground. Ariel grasped her shawl and pulled it tightly around her, hoping to shut out the chill of the night. She wondered if she would ever be warm again. “I left the carriage at the end of the drive. I promise you’ll never regret this,” Tanner said, no warmth or glow of happiness evident in his tone. Should he not be looking upon her in passion, love, and not as a conquest? Taking a deep breath, resigning her life to never finding tranquility, she grasped his hand and said, “I’m ready.” “Going somewhere?” The question boomed from somewhere in the shadows of the night in a voice so deep, Ariel knew it could only belong to one man. Dear God, what had she gone and done?
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CHAPTER 16
Craylen couldn’t believe his eyes as anger radiated like a raging conflagration inside him. Here was his—his soon to-be-bride scaling down the trellis of her balcony with another man. His intuitions had been right when he saw Owen McCabe earlier at the Silver Dollar. Owen’s son, Tanner, was indeed in town. But had he actually expected to come home only to find his intended wrapped within the arms of another, silhouetted in the window by the fire within her own chambers? Fury warred inside Cray like never before. Ariel’s conniving mother and she were the ones guilty of orchestrating this marriage between them. And here, she had the audacity to run away with another man. My God, would he never figure her out? “You have it all wrong,” Ariel rushed in defense of her actions as she stood trembling before him. Craylen doubted the quivering came from her lack of outerwear or the chill of the night. How could she possibly talk her way out of this one? But knowing Ariel as he had 144
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come to, she would certainly make a good effort trying. “Do I?” Craylen quirked a brow upward. This explanation he wouldn’t want to miss for the world. “I think maybe we should all go inside and discuss this as adults.” The terror he saw paling her face as well as the tremor in her voice was almost humorous. He might have thought to laugh at the predicament she’d gotten herself into this time, had he not been so damned mad. Cray crossed his booted feet at the ankle as he leaned a shoulder against the tree behind him and placed his arms across his chest. “One must act like an adult first, Ariel.” She opened her mouth to retort but wisely snapped it shut. Tanner walked around her, placing himself between Craylen and Ariel, as though he meant to be her protector. Cray clenched his teeth, the taut ache traveling to his temple. He didn’t dare move a muscle, lest he wind up wanted for murder come morning. “What do you have to say for yourself, sweetness? Dare I guess you were going for a midnight stroll with a man you think of like a brother?” Cray kept his tone purposely even, low, not wanting to give way to the true turmoil sizzling within him. Again, Ariel opened her mouth to speak, then bit her lower lip to keep her from saying something he might make her regret in the end. Tanner cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and met Cray’s stare head on. “You know full well what Ariel was doing. Why taunt her with your childish games?” “Games?” Cray chuckled, the humor lost from the sound. “You accuse the wrong person of playing games, McCabe. This woman whom you think to steal from me—she is quite the expert.” “Shouldn’t one own something first in order to have it stolen?” Tanner challenged. He was good, Cray would give him that much, as well as valiant seeing as how Cray must have out-weighed him by a good many pounds. “She doesn’t belong to you, Rollins. She never has.” 145
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“That may very well be, but it is I whom she shall marry. Have you forgotten that, McCabe?” Tanner eyed him carefully, obviously weighing Craylen as a worthy opponent. “Under what method of force?” Cray chuckled, truly humored now, pushing himself from the tree, coming to his full height, leaving him a few inches taller than Tanner. “Force her?” Craylen drew his brows together, looking down his nose at the smaller man. “Ask her, McCabe. I would force no one to marry me. I wouldn’t have to.” Tanner turned his head to look at Ariel for the first time since Craylen and he began their exchange. “Would he?” Ariel’s gaze darted from one man to the other. Finally, downcasting her eyes, she whispered, “No.” “You’ll marry him on your own free will then?” The tone in his voice rose to a desperate pitch. Again, her gaze went to each man, darting back and forth—no doubt weighing her options, Cray thought. His ire rose. How dare the little minx think to run off with another man then hesitate to leave behind the wealth he offered? Ariel wanted Cray’s fortune, nothing more. For if she had cared for Cray even the tiniest amount, she wouldn’t have climbed down the trellis with this man. “Will you?” Tanner repeated, his voice taking on a hostile tone. “Yes,” Ariel uttered, barely audible. A smile filled Craylen’s face, but not out of triumphant arrogance, more at the irony of the trophy. Was she worth all he was losing in the battle? Self-respect, had he any left to lose, self-esteem, pride. He was the sole victor of a woman who wanted nothing more from him than his assets. If he had any brains at all, he would allow this man to take away his ball and chain. Cray would be forever freed of the tie binding him. But here he stood, unable to let her walk out of his life. He deserved her and more, for his stupidity at allowing her to weave herself beneath his 146
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surface. Damn himself to hell. “Need you more proof, McCabe? I’d be more than willing to provide it,” Cray gritted between clenched teeth. He waited for the man to answer. When Tanner didn’t see fit to reply, he continued, “Out of reverence for your father, I’ll allow you to walk away unharmed. But mark my words as a promise to you, don’t think me a fool to allow it a second time.” Tanner turned to look at Cray, narrowing his eyes. “It may be you she marries, Rollins, but it will be my name she has on her lips when you bed her.” The knife in his chest twisted painfully, rendering a hole in his heart the size of New Jersey as he recalled the name she spoke in passion the night he thought to bed her in Bridgeport. How could he argue with what he had already learned first hand? I thought you were someone else, she had said in argument as to why she responded in passion to Craylen’s advances. The chill of the snow falling from the sky sank beneath his surface as his veins iced over. Steeling his jaw, Craylen stepped close enough to see the slight muscle tick in Tanner’s cheek. The wind lifted his hair, blowing it about his face. “You may very well be speaking the truth, McCabe, but it’ll be my touch she responds to. Now get the hell off my land before I change my mind and they have to carry you away.” Without a single word, Tanner turned and walked away. * * * The long-case clock chimed the hour in the entrance way as Craylen paced his study. He had sent Ariel to her room nearly an hour ago, but yet had the courage to face her. Had he actually allowed himself to fall in love with the sorceress? His eyes stung from unshed tears as he clenched his jaw, willing the emotions away. How the hell had he allowed himself to fall in love with someone so undeserving? He’d be damned if he ever exposed himself to tell her. It was bad enough he had allowed it to happen. But 147
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he would walk the fires of Hades before he ever so much as admitted it to her or anyone else. The logs in the fireplace crackled in the silent air as he walked to the window, glancing out to the spot they stood moments ago. He should have taken his anger out on the man causing his turmoil and not allowed him to walk away untouched. How dare Tanner come to his house and think to take his woman? It’d be a cold day in hell before he ever allowed Ariel to walk away now. She had set her course in life when she lay with him in Bridgeport. And if Ariel thought to change directions now, Cray would see her bound to him forever. There would be only one man she would lay with, and he would be damned before allowing that person to be Tanner McCabe. Walking to the hearth, Craylen stared into the glowing flames. Only once had he allowed himself to love before. And what gain had it brought? The end of two innocent lives, and all because he had chosen the wrong woman to fall in love with. Would he ever forgive himself for surviving to see the end of the war? Not likely. It should have been Samuel, not him. Craylen lay his forehead against the cool marble surrounding the fireplace. He was no hero, but a coward. If Ariel ever heard the truth about his past life, she would be too filled with abhorrence to love him. His only defense would be to store his emotions carefully away, keeping Ariel at bay. Her anger at him would be much easier to handle than her loathing the man he truly was. * * * Ariel paced the small confines of her room. Certainly, Craylen wouldn’t make her wait the entire night to punish her for her actions. Dear God in heaven, what had she done? The thin night-wrapper she wore over her nightgown did little to keep out the chill of the night. Even the rolling flames in the hearth did little to warm the blood in her veins. She had made a dire mistake. What ever had possessed her to leave with Tanner? 148
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The chime of the long-case clock struck the half hour. At least an hour and a half had passed since Craylen had sent her to her room, too disgusted to even look at her. Despair washed over her like the high tide, threatening to drown her in guilt. How would she ever atone for her actions? She was caught running away with a man she had once intended to marry. The door to her room creaked. Ariel spun around, coming face to face with the man causing her torment. No, she thought, she had created her own agony this time. She alone would pay, whatever the price. Craylen stood stationary, a hand clutching the doorknob, looking like the lion unleashed. His hair lay unkempt about his head, still tousled from the wind. His eyes were dark and threatening. “What have you to say for yourself, sweetness?” Cray said the last word with such contempt, Ariel’s knees nearly gave way beneath her. Toying with the front of her wrapper, looking to the floor, she whispered, “What am I to say? There is no explanation for what I have done.” Cray crossed the space between them, the broken glass of the vase crunching beneath his booted heels. He grasped her shoulders tightly within his large hands. “Answer me this, Ariel, had I not arrived when I did, where would you have gone?” He paused, waiting for an answer she didn’t have. “Would you still be the innocent you pretend to be with me or would this man named Tanner be between your milky thighs at this moment taking what you deny me?” Anger fueled her response as she slapped his cheek, leaving red marks in her hand’s wake. His eyes flashed as they narrowed and his grip on her shoulders tightened. “I want an answer, damn you! Where would you have gone?” Tears welled in her eyes as she straightened her spine and met his glare. “I didn’t think things through. I only thought to leave you behind.” 149
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“Leave me behind?” his voice raised. “How big of you, Ariel. This whole sham of an engagement is your doing—not mine. What the hell possessed you into wanting to leave all this behind?” Craylen swept his hand in an arc about the room. “Have I not given you enough already?” Ariel chuckled cruelly, shaking her head. “You don’t understand, do you? It’s never been this.” Her hand mimicked his. “In your petty little mind, you think I’m out to steal your fortune. Think about it, if I wanted your money, Craylen—I would have never left in the first place. I would have been the fool to leave.” “Then what is it you want? If not for my money, then what?” “You’re too thick in the head to see it. I left behind my entire life to come here. Tanner McCabe was the only man I loved. The only one I knew to love. My mother placed me in your bed. She is the one who is at fault. She is the one who set our courses in life not me. Had money been my sole motivator, then leaving behind Tanner would have been easy because he owns nothing.” Cray released her to pace the room. His shirt hung loosely across his shoulders, several of the buttons left unfastened. The trousers he wore clung to his thighs and buttocks, leaving his muscles outlined by the fabric with each stride. Never had she met a man who held such power and strength in control. Cray was large enough to crush Tanner, yet he allowed him to walk away unscathed. Suddenly, he stopped his pacing and returned to the space just in front of her, his eyes wild as they bore into hers. “Why?” It was a simple word, but one Ariel felt he deserved an answer. A tear fell past her lash, making a wet trek down her cheek, only to drop unheeded to the floor. “Because, I don’t know who you are. Because, I don’t know what you do. Because of her and all the others.” Cray raised a brow. “Her? What others?” “The woman whose…breast you were fondling and God knows what else you did with her. And the women who work for you. How many are there, Cray? How many must I worry about?” 150
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A cruel smile cut his face, showing the malice he felt. “You know we’re not bound by any professions. Our marriage won’t be a conventional one. Yet you don’t want me to have any other women? Am I getting this right?” “No, I don’t want to worry about which tart is spreading her legs for you each night.” “You sound as though I have a harem of women.” “Don’t you?” “Not a harem, but I do have my choices. Are you prepared to do what is necessary to keep me out of their beds?” “And what would you require of me?” A tender hand lifted her chin. A touch so soft, Ariel would have thought it impossible for a hand of that size. His eyes bore into hers as though they could read the very depths of her soul. How would she ever hide the love she felt for him? Craylen’s face descended slowly, his gaze never once leaving hers. “A simple kiss won’t do,” he whispered as the silky flesh of his lips brushed against hers, leaving her knees weakened. “A slight touch is not enough.” “Then what, Cray? What would you have me do?” she asked, already knowing what he sought. “I want to experience the feel of you from the inside, sweetness.” Before she could respond to his crudeness, his mouth claimed hers, his tongue sweeping the seal of her mouth, then gaining the entrance he sought. The burning heat of his touch warmed the blood coursing through her veins. Ariel framed his whisker-roughened cheeks with her hands as she returned his kiss, arching into the warmth of his body, feeling the extent of his desire to have her lying intimately against the folds of her night-wrapper. How could a simple kiss rid her of all anger, free her of all conscious thought? Only hours ago he had been in the arms of another woman. Not to 151
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mention, he had purposely kept from her what he did for a living. How could she ever trust him? His tongue swept the flesh of her mouth, sending sparks traveling along her spine, numbing her knees, her mind, the juncture of her thighs. The sweet ache traveled up along her limbs begging for something—of what she was unsure. Sweet heaven, she wanted this. But other matters had to be settled first. For when she lay with him, she wanted no secrets separating them. Had she not harbored enough of her own? She tore her mouth away, leaving her breathless and him dazed. “We aren’t ready for this. Not yet.” “Damn it, Ariel. Two hours ago, you were ready to run off with another man, surely to wind up in his bed.” “Too much lies unsaid between us, Craylen.” “Like what?” “Like who you are…until a few hours ago, I never knew what kept you out all hours of the night. Now, I learn you own a gaming den. Not one, but others as well. How many, Craylen?” “When you came here to live off my wealth you didn’t care what I did for a living. Why now?” His jaw tensed. “I never thought to ask. Truth be told…it mattered little to me then.” “Then why should it matter now? Are you afraid I’ll gamble your soon-to-be fortune away?” “I’m afraid…” Her words trailed off. She couldn’t allow him to see her true fears, afraid of never gaining his love. “What, Ariel?” Cray grasped her shoulders again. “What frightens you?” “That you’ll find one of them more to your liking,” Ariel whispered, giving away more than she wanted to. Craylen released her, his face masked, unreadable. Without a word, he turned and walked to the door. Just before exiting, he said, “Keep 152
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me happy in that bed and you’ll have no worries.” With his final cutting comment, he slammed the door behind him, leaving Ariel to collapse atop the bed, her body and soul too spent to even shed a tear.
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CHAPTER 17
Bright winter sunlight streamed into Craylen’s window as he gazed at himself in the mirror hanging over his washstand. What had he become? He didn’t like the man much he saw in the reflection. A week’s growth of whiskers littered his cheek, his eyes appeared hollow, sunken from the lack of sleep, his hair tousled about his face, in severe need of a trim. Last night he had sank to his lowest, barely making it home after consuming an ungodly amount of bourbon. And this morning, he had the headache and dry heaves to prove it. Craylen wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity for long. His parents were due to arrive anytime soon, and he sorely needed an appearance change. The shirt on his back and trousers he still wore from the night before reeked of alcohol and sported creases beyond repair. A large tin tub that he had ordered to be brought around sat to the side of his room filled with steaming water. Already the smell of the evening’s feast wafted about the air. Had his stomach not been so queasy, he might have felt the pang of hunger. 154
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Craylen stripped away the offensive garments, tossing them to the foot of his bed. He stepped into the water allowing the heat to do its magic to his tired and worn muscles. How had he ever allowed his life to take such a tragic turn? Though he knew he wouldn’t change it now if he could, having the exact opportunity three nights back when Ariel was scaling down his trellis with another man. Craylen slipped beneath the water’s surface, dowsing his head. When he resurfaced, he smoothed the soaked strands of hair out of his eyes, then ran his palm over the scratchy surface of his jaw. The whiskers had to go. Only once had he grown a beard and those were memories he felt better left buried. Picking up the soap, Craylen lathered his skin, attempting to wash the sins of his past away, scrubbing until his flesh was reddened. After soaping his hair, he again submerged himself beneath the water’s surface, rinsing away all traces of suds. Water sloshed from the sides of tub as he emerged, grasping the thick, warmed towel from its place by the low burning fire. What the hell was he to do with Ariel? He couldn’t think about her without his body growing hard with need, his exact reason for avoiding her the last few days. Hell, the last few weeks. After stepping into a clean pair of drawers, he quickly donned a pair of freshly pressed trousers and walked back to the washstand. Looking into the mirror, he noted the bath had done little to change his gruff appearance. Dabbing his brush onto his shaving soap, Craylen spread the cool lather over his whiskers. One finger at his temple, he grasped the razor with the other hand, placing it just below his left ear. He moved the razor in a quick swipe down his cheek, leaving a bloody trail behind. “Son of a…Damn it to hell! Henry!” Craylen roared as he blotted the fresh wound with the towel lying beside the washbasin. Would the boy never quit? “Henry!” Moments later, a clean shaven Craylen made his way down the 155
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stairs to the parlor, sure to find Henry lurking somewhere about. Damn him, Cray wouldn’t quit looking until he found Henry and saw that he paid for his actions…dearly. Henry had gone too far this time. Voices filtered from the parlor as Cray approached the door. One decidedly feminine, the other deep and irritating. Chuckles traveled through the opened door. Craylen stood in the opening for long moments, unnoticed, as he watched the bantering between Ariel and Henry. A genuine smile stretched across Ariel’s face as she looked upon Henry. Jealousy rose like the force of a tornado within Cray. Not that he worried at all about Ariel being in the company of his little brother. After all, he was only a mere sixteen. Craylen wanted Ariel to gaze at him with the same adoration, affection. Hell, he wanted Ariel to look upon him in heated passion. Lately, the only response he had been able to evoke from her was anger. Craylen cleared his throat, gaining both of their attentions. Ariel’s eyes widened, no doubt at the thin coagulating wound running from his ear to his jaw, while Henry turned his gaze to the floor, trying his hardest to hide the smile growing on his impish face. By God, he would beat him to a pulp yet. “I take it my parents have yet to arrive,” Craylen stated more than asked as he walked into the room, over to the side table containing a menagerie of drinks. Passing over the bourbon, Cray reached for the pot containing steaming coffee and poured himself a cup. Black. He brought the cup to his lips, taking a large swallow before returning his attention to Ariel and Henry. Ariel continued to stare at him in awe. Gone was the smile she wore minutes ago. Cray held her gaze for a long moment before turning to his brother who still feigned indifference. “Know anything about the state I found my razor in, Henry?” Ariel gasped, capturing Craylen’s attention again. A look of guilt crossed her features before she turned her gaze downward. So she, too, 156
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knew about Henry’s last prank. For that, he’d see her pay. Henry’s head came up, meeting Craylen’s censure. “A tree needed pruning.” “So you used my razor,” Cray said in an even tone, his brows making a frown over his nose. Henry raised his eyebrows as well as his shoulders. “I couldn’t find any other tools to use. Your razor was handy.” Cray took another sip from the hot coffee, then leveled his eyes with Henry’s as he took a chair opposite the settee Henry sat on alongside Ariel. In a tone void of emotion, he stated, “When Mother and C.W. head for their castle after the wedding, you, too, will make your way back home.” Henry’s face remained impassive. Ariel glanced from boy to man. Finally, her gaze stopped on Craylen’s. “You can’t send him away. Heavens, he needs you.” “Henry needs no one. He’s made that much apparent. He goes.” Cray narrowed one eye at her, daring her to disagree with his decision. Ariel straightened her shoulders, sitting tall in the settee. “Then I need him.” A wicked smile grew on Craylen’s lips. “Once the vows have been said, sweetness, you won’t have time for him. I plan to keep you so tired and sated, you’ll have little time for anything but rest and seeing to my attentions.” A becoming blush rose up from the low neckline of her gown, reddening her face. “You plan to keep me abed all hours of the day?” Craylen chuckled. “And night, if necessary, to sate my appetite. Or until my hunger to bed you wanes. You did ask what I required of you to keep my attentions at home.” Craylen could see the anger rising within her as her eyes fairly glowed in her ire. The blue orbs darkened, almost reminding him of a balmy summer’s night storm, just before the flash of lightning brightens the sky. 157
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Craylen could see Henry’s answering glare from the corner of his eye. “I really see no need to talk in that manner in front of a lady, no matter what you think of her, Cray.” He looked at Henry, albeit briefly, then returned his focus to the vision before him. A fallen angel, Craylen thought, as her silvery locks complemented the pale blue of her gown. Her breasts rose ever so slightly over the low neckline, capturing his attention, giving just a hint as to what lay beneath. Cray curled his hands into fists as they ached to hold each milky globe, testing their weight within his palms. He wanted nothing more than to chase Henry from the room and bury his face between them. Damn if he wasn’t already hard, straining to be free from the confines of his trousers. He placed his hands in his lap, concealing his exact reaction to the sweet heaven sitting across from him. Cray, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, returned his attention to Henry. “Are you in agreement to leave following the wedding?” he asked in a voice much huskier than he wished. Henry looked at Ariel, then back to Cray. “If Ariel, too, wishes me to leave, then I’ll be gone when Mother and Father travel back home.” Cray again chuckled. “And what has she to say about it if I wish you gone?” “Once we are married, this will also be my house, Craylen,” Ariel spoke up, contempt lacing each carefully placed word. “If I wish Henry to stay, then he stays.” Cray swallowed the last drop of his coffee, slamming the cup on the surface of the table to the side of his chair. The china cracked beneath the force. Cray’s voice boomed across the parlor. “You need not remind me of your position in this household once you seal your fate, sweetness. But you will never undermine my decisions. If I say Henry leaves, then Henry goes when I tell him to. Do I make myself clear?” “Quite,” Ariel bit between clenched teeth. “Just so you know, it is I who will willingly or unwillingly invite you to my bed. Keep me happy 158
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and I’m sure my generosity will spill over. Do I make myself clear?” Cray tilted his head back and roared in mock laughter. “So you bargain yourself. Are you no better than the women whom I employ?” Tears welled in her vivid eyes, stubbornly clinging to her lashes. “You are truly a bastard, Craylen Rollins.” “I never proved otherwise—” The front door to the house opened, cutting off Craylen’s words as his parents walked through the door in a sea of servants. Wonderful. His parents’ timing was perfect as always. Someone greeting the newcomers, a voice sure to grate on his nerves, drowned the noise traveling throughout the house. Adelaine. She would be the first to go, Craylen thought with a cruel smile. * * * Ariel sat to one side of the spacious dining room, supporting her chin on her hand as her elbow rested on the table’s surface. Dinner had long since ended and the table cleared, but the conversation continued. Craylen had conveniently excused himself to God knew where following his father’s brief congratulatory speech, leaving her to entertain his guests. “Ladies,” C.W. spoke as he rose from the table, coming to his full height. “Clifford and I will be retiring to Craylen’s study for brandy and cigars if you’ll excuse us.” “Certainly.” Tabitha supplied her husband with a smile, openly displaying the love they shared for one another. “Adelaine, Ariel, and I have plans to discuss that don’t require any input from you.” Both men chuckled, C.W. slapping the shoulder of his middle son, then took their leave as the remaining women waited until they were gone to continue the conversation. Henry looked up from his position down the table at Ariel, seeming to apologize for what he was about to do. He shrugged his shoulders, offering Ariel a look of condolence, then said, “I, too, have things to do. Mother, Mrs. Montgomery, Ariel.” 159
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Henry punctuated each acknowledgment with a curt nod, then quickly fled the room as though staying might have meant his own hanging. Ariel chuckled to herself, knowing full well what Henry was thinking. If only she, too, could make a hasty retreat to her room. She could hardly excuse herself though, when the topic being discussed was her upcoming nuptials. “I think the white roses Craylen has been growing in his hothouse will make a beautiful arrangement for the day of the wedding.” Tabitha added the name of the flower to her list of things to do, right beneath the words shrimp cocktail. “Do you think they will suffice by themselves or should we add a splash of color?” “White stands for purity, my dear.” Adelaine’s smile was so smug that Ariel rolled her eyes heavenward. Had her mother not already been sitting, Ariel would have had the urge to knock her there. The breath she’d been holding slowly escaped her lips as she tried to come up with a viable reason for leaving the room. Ariel could have cared less if white roses filled the room or white lilies, more appropriate of one’s end—her death. Alpha and omega—the beginning of her end. For surely once Craylen found she wan’t the virgin he expected her to be, he would see to her death personally. Ariel knew without a doubt he would hardly wait for an explanation of any kind. And even if he did, he would be rightly disgusted knowing it was her own father who had issued the damage. A weight settled heavily on her chest as she could barely stand to sit another minute in the company of the women, not really listening to a word they were saying. “Ariel, dear,” Adelaine’s grating voice made its way through her musing. “You look peaked. You aren’t coming down with anything are you?” Seeing her opportunity, Ariel snatched at it. “To be honest, I’m not feeling entirely well. If the two of you could see to the plans, I think I’d 160
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like to take a walk about the estates and get some fresh air.” Smiling kindly at Ariel, Tabitha laid a gentle hand atop hers, a large diamond twinkling on her third finger. “Of course, sweetheart. You go right ahead. Your mother and I can see to the final preparations. I’m sure the past months have not been all that easy, being uprooted from your home. Don’t you worry about a thing.” Ariel returned Tabitha’s smile, then excused herself from the room. Certainly when Craylen’s mother learns the truth about her, she, too, would look upon her in loathing. After all, Adelaine and she had successfully ruined her son’s life. Though she didn’t orchestrate the turn of events, she was definitely a pawn in Adelaine’s sick and twisted game. Ariel grasped a heavy wool coat from the hall’s tree and exited the house through the kitchen, heading for the stables. Dusk had set, casting an orange glow off the distant ocean’s horizon, causing Ariel to shiver as her breath spiraled upward in the chill of the evening. An edge of the coat in both hands, Ariel pulled tightly on the garment hoping to shut out the coldness of the evening, though she doubted the chills would ever stop since her veins had successfully turned to ice. Ariel headed for the opened door to the stables where a light glowed from within. She paused at the opening, her gaze searching the dimly lit building for any occupants. At the far end sat Henry brushing the sides of one of Craylen’s large horses. Her shoes clicked off the stone flooring as she made her way to where Henry sat, diligently working. Hearing her footfalls, he glanced up in her direction. A smile grew on his solemn face. “Dare I hope you were following me?” Henry asked from his stool, laying the wide bristle brush on his lap. Ariel chuckled, a small smile growing on her own dispirited face. “How dare you throw me to the wolves? Another minute and I think I would have fallen off my chair when I fell asleep or embarrassed myself by snoring.” 161
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The grin on Henry’s face grew. “You snore?” “How would I know?” Ariel laughed, pulling up a stool beside him. Ariel paused for long moments, then continued in a serious tone, “You can’t let Craylen send you away.” Henry returned the brush to the horse’s side, refusing to look her in the eye. “Like I have a choice in the matter.” “Craylen loves you, Henry. He wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to.” “Cray does what he sees fit. He has ever since he left the war. In the last five years, I was lucky to know who my big brother was. He never came home unless he was forced. So why now would Cray do anything other than what he wished?” Ariel sat silently watching Henry. What could she say? Had Craylen so carelessly discarded his family? Would he treat her no better? Henry turned to face Ariel again, stopping his task. His mouth lay in a grim line across his stern face making him appear much older than his sixteen years. “You don’t know him, Ariel. Cray hasn’t talked to our father in a civil manner since the war.” Ariel drew her brows together. “You keep bringing up the war as though it had affected Craylen in some way. Did the war change him, make him unfeeling?” Henry shrugged, then returned the brush to the horse. “I’m not sure…I guess. But I really think there’s more to it than that. He treats Clifford the same as Father.” “I’ve noticed the way he speaks about them, but he doesn’t seem to treat you and your mother in the same manner. I can see the way he looks at you, Henry, that he loves you.” “Maybe so. But how long before he shuts Mother and I out? How long before he shuts you out?” He turned and looked at her, his eyes saddened by the thoughts he conveyed. Ariel placed a hand on Henry’s cheek, the roughness of new whiskers growth touching her palm. “Don’t worry about me, Henry. He 162
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never let me in. I don’t have anything to lose. You, on the other hand, are welcome to live here. I won’t allow Craylen to throw you out. You’ve become my friend and I certainly don’t think Craylen wants me to make his life hell if he does think to send you away.” The smile returned to Henry’s now boyish face. “You’re too good for him, Ariel. Wait another ten years and I’ll marry you myself.” Ariel giggled before placing a tender kiss on Henry’s cheek. “You’re too kind. Besides, I’m already promised to your brother, though I don’t think he’s any too happy about it.” A crunch in the gravel caught their attention as they looked to the opening in the stable. But neither saw a thing. * * * Christ, would he never learn? Craylen had made his way down to the stables, seeing the glowing light, knowing where he might find Henry. His younger brother always had loved spending time in the stables. Cray had gone in search of Henry to tell him he had made a hasty decision when he had said his little brother must travel home with his parents when they set out for Absecon. But what he hadn’t counted on was finding his lovely wife-to-be kissing dear Henry. Cray rolled his eyes as he entered the back of his estate, tossing his overcoat to the coat tree, only to miss and have it wind up in a heap on the floor. What the hell did he care? Cray took the steps at the back of the house, leading to the second floor, two at a time. If he couldn’t talk to his brother in private, then he meant to see his faithless little bride-to-be alone. Cray opened the door to her room then closed it, seating himself in the chair on the opposite side of the chamber. Sitting in the shadows, elbows on the arms of the chair, he steepled his fingers beneath his lips—and waited.
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CHAPTER 18
Nightfall had long since cloaked Ariel’s room in shadows, the only light coming from orange embers fairly glowing in the hearth. Craylen’s gaze fixed on the remaining fiery illumination. How long would he have to wait for Ariel to abandon the company of a mere sixteen year old? Anger rose in him like the stoking of a fire. The longer she toyed with him, the hotter his ire grew. And damned himself for caring. Hell, as far as he knew, she could be wrapped within his little brother’s arms at this very moment, while he waited pitifully in her room. Though would his own brother betray him? Of course, the little minx probably would, and the first chance she got. But he’d be damned before he allowed her to cuckold him with a member of his own family. Just as he thought he couldn’t take another moment, the brass knob, gleaming from the light of the dying fire, turned. A slice of light cut through the blackness of the room from a lit sconce in the hallway. Ariel stepped into her chamber, closing the door behind her, once again 164
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silhouetting the room in darkness. She glanced to the barely lit hearth, as though she meant to feed the fire, but seemingly thinking better of it, turned to the wardrobe and withdrew her white cotton nightdress. Ariel hadn’t noted his presence. If he were any kind of gentleman at all, he would alert her to the fact she wasn’t alone and he was indeed within her chambers. But a gentleman was something he never pretended to be. The dim orange glow cast Ariel’s skin into darkened tones as she raised her hands to her hair, slipped the pins free, and tossed them to her dressing table’s surface. Her silvery locks floated down her back in lustrous waves, making Cray’s hands itch to touch the silken strands, to anchor her head, tilting it upward for his kiss. His abdomen tightened as her fingers quickly worked the small seed buttons at the back of her dress. Craylen wondered where her maid was this eve. Did he not hire her to help Ariel with such things? No matter what Tina did with herself, Craylen was more than glad she hadn’t helped Ariel this night. As each button gave way, the shoulders of her dress slipped down her arms allowing a glimpse of the front-closure, white corset with plush edging lying beneath. His fingers tingled with want of divesting her of the uncomfortable looking piece of clothing. Ariel pushed the gown down her hips to the floor and stepped free of the skirt, then worked quickly to rid herself of the steel hooped bustle. Left standing in only her corset, chemise, and stockings, Ariel hung her dress and bustle in the wardrobe. Cray tightened his lips and clenched his jaw to keep from emitting a sound as his arousal grew painful and begged for release, straining against the front of his trousers. He had lived months in a dank dark cell, and never once had he felt this kind of agonizing torture—albeit sweet. Her hands undid the front of her corset as she stood in front of the glowing embers, in an obvious attempt at warming herself, giving Craylen a pleasing view from the side. He clasped and unclasped his fingers aspiring to relieve some of the tautness of his body, but to no 165
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avail. With each innocently seductive move, his body responded as the muscles in his arms, his legs, his abdomen could be felt like the tightening strings of a violin. With one more turn, they would snap and leave his muscles in a pile of quivering mush. As the corset dropped to the floor, the thud echoing in the silent room, he nearly came out of his chair and announced his presence. Surely, how much more could a man take? The thought of her sending him from the room without so much as a touch stopped him from taking action. Damn himself for being as wanton as a whore. Ariel slid each stocking down her legs, leaving her derriere pointed in his direction, then tossed them to the corner of the room. Cray went from taut to numb, no longer sure if his body would move had he wanted it to. He sat with his backside stuck to the chair, watching Ariel with eyes filled of hunger, yet loathing himself in the same breath for violating her privacy. As she returned to a standing position, her hands clasped the bottom edge of the chemise and dragged it over her head, leaving her free of clothes as the day she was born. Craylen nearly lost himself as the glow from the dying embers cast her skin in orange tones and her nipples puckered to the room’s cool air. Damn if he didn’t want to bury himself deeply within her. A groan escaped his lips as the ache in his abdomen went from painful to unbearable. The sound drew her attention as he shifted in his chair, no longer able to sit comfortably. Her eyes widened as a barely audible gasp escaped her red silky lips. Craylen remembered all too well how they had felt molding to his. Ariel reached for the nightdress left discarded atop her bed covers. But moving with a speed Craylen would have thought moments ago impossible, he grasped her shoulders and hauled her against his strained frame. Had her eyes bore the daggers she shot at him, he would have been dead, lying in unrequited need in a heap upon her floor. “How dare you!” Ariel hissed as she struggled wildly within his grasp. Her actions did nothing except entice him further as the pert tips 166
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of her breasts rubbed against the thin cotton of the shirt he wore. “I dare anything I wish, sweetness.” His cheeks tingled from their increasing warmth and had the room been flooded with light, he was sure they would have glowed red. Flushed from embarrassment or from heated arousal, he wasn’t sure. “Let go of me,” she spat in a deadly, even tone. “What? And allow you to hide what’s mine beneath the hideous white gown you wear to sleep?” Craylen chuckled. “No, sweetness, I think I much prefer you this way.” Ariel’s eyes narrowed as her useless struggles stopped. She stiffened her spine and boldly glared into his eyes. Craylen had successfully managed to degrade her, but she’d be damned before allowing him the insight. “What is yours?” she fairly squealed. “And where does what belongs to you end and what belongs to me begin? If my body belongs to you, then what do I have left?” Craylen narrowed his eyes as they nearly glowed in their rising hunger. Like a lion, pacing, analyzing its game before he chases it down, snatching his prey within the grasp of his strong jaw and devouring it. She hadn’t a chance. “You should have thought of that well before you entered into your mother’s schemes. Now, what belongs to you, I claim as my own.” Ariel let a nervous giggle escape her. “Then I am truly no better than your whores. Shall I lay across the bed and offer myself to you?” The muscles in his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth in anger. “I won’t have you lying beneath me, offering me nothing of yourself. When I take you, sweetness, you’ll be begging me in my name to give you the release you so desire.” A numbing ache centered itself between her thighs. My God, what had she become? She was no better than the women who worked for him. All she needed was to be in his company, and her body betrayed her like the whore she was beginning to think herself to be. Would she 167
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forever be reminded of the man who fathered her? Tears filled her eyes. “Please, Craylen, take what you came for, then let me be, for I can no longer take your censure.” Craylen chuckled, his crow’s feet becoming prominent in his misplaced merriment. “You humor me, Ariel.” His large hand covered her breast, sending sparks throughout her body, causing her to gasp in surprise as her nipples tightened to his touch. “You think I would take such an offer? That I don’t know when an offering is made out of charity?” His free hand grasped her backside and pulled it flush with his arousal. Ariel bit her bottom lip to stay the surfacing moan. “As you can no doubt feel the length of my desire to have you, I’ll wait until it is you who begs for what I have to give you. Only I can take away the ache now centering between your thighs, sweetness.” “And how would you know what I feel?” she asked before quickly realizing her mistake. Craylen’s hand left her breast, sliding down her abdomen between her legs, releasing her enough to find her essence hidden within the blond curls. A moan escaped her lips before she cut off any further sound as one of his fingers slid into her. “Your body tells what you do not,” Craylen uttered on a hoarse reply. His golden gaze locked with hers before traveling to her lips. She knew without a doubt he would kiss her, wanting the same for herself. Parting her lips in an invitation, Craylen’s mouth captured hers, taking the offering. His tongue swept the sensitive flesh before coaxing her into a response. His hand suddenly left the mark it had forever made on her body only to return to her breast, kneading the soft flesh with the rough skin of his palm. Where she was soft, he was hard, the evidence resting temptingly against her tender abdomen. Sweeping her into his arms, Craylen carried her to the waiting bed, 168
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laying her atop, never once stopping his assault on her lips. Her hands entangled in the golden hair falling about his shoulders. The bed springs squeaked as he added his weight beside hers. Oh God, her mind screamed in defiance as her body arched off the mattress in contrast, pleading his hands to do what her thoughts warned against. She shouldn’t allow him the liberties though her body seemed to act on its own accord. His mouth left hers to kiss a path to her breast. His tongue touched the tip of one, circling the center before drawing it into his mouth. Ariel anchored his head with her fingers as she squirmed beneath him, thinking she might die from wanting. Releasing her, Craylen raised above her, using his hands to support his weight as he peered into her eyes. Though the room was darkened, Ariel could see the hunger written within the depths. His expression grew to one of possession. No longer caring beyond the moment, Ariel grasped the front of his shirt, her fingers working the buttons, needing to feel the flesh lying beneath. The material gave way to the well-sculptured chest covered in the crisp tawny curls she had first laid eyes on back in Bridgeport. She knew at that moment, the man she lay with in Connecticut wasn’t the figment of her imagination in the form of Tanner McCabe, but the lionlike man before her. It was Craylen Wayne Rollins III whom she responded to, no one else. And it would be him she gave herself to— body and soul. Ariel moved her hands up his chest, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her touch as she sought out the flat round disks of his breasts. As her fingernails traced circles around them, the intensity within Craylen’s eyes increased. “Craylen,” she whispered in a voice so foreign, it could have belonged to someone else. Suddenly, he lowered his face, once again capturing her mouth possessively, trapping her hands between them, then abandoning her 169
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lips as quickly. Ariel’s eyes widened as he left the bed, his gaze traveling the length of her body, touching her as thoroughly as if it were his fingers. When his gaze returned to hers, a small smile turned up the corners of his eyes. “It is my touch you so delight in. It might do you well to remember that if McCabe is ever bold enough to return or the next time you lay your lips on my little brother’s cheek.” What was once heated turned cold as gooseflesh popped out along her flesh. Craylen had obviously laid witness to her earlier exchange with Henry. Ariel scrambled for the covering of the bed, hoping to hide herself from his view. Craylen chuckled. “Don’t you know your body is forever burned within my memory? Cover it up, Ariel, but don’t think my eyes won’t undress you when I next look upon you, and see you the way I saw you only moments ago.” “You are a pig, Craylen Rollins,” Ariel spat his name in disgust. Not in distaste over him, but more for herself. “That may very well be.” The smile grew on his face arrogantly. “But remember—you want me. Care for me to prove my point again?” “Get out!” She threw the pillow from the bed, hitting him in the chest. He caught it, then casually dropped it back on the bed. “My pleasure.” Cray strode to the door, his strides sure and cocky. He opened the door with more force than necessary, sending a draft across the already chilled room, then returned his gaze to hers. “My chamber is down the hall should you feel a need to slake that desire I just awakened within you.” Ariel again heaved the pillow from the bed toward the infuriating man, striking the back of the door he quickly closed. His chuckles resonated down the hallway until his own closing door cut off any further sound. Ariel threw herself back onto the bed, her head sinking into the soft pillow left there, hiding her face in her hands. A deep sigh left her 170
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pursed lips as she recalled the wanton way her body had responded to his touches. And if it weren’t for his own quick retreat, Ariel knew with little doubt, she would have him wrapped within her thighs at this very moment. God strike her down, but she wanted him with a force never before matched. Even now the lingering throes of desire remained between her thighs, reminding her of his parting offer. Oh Lord in heaven, but how would she ever look at herself in the mirror come morning? Craylen had set out to demonstrate she desired him and she didn’t have the decency to put up even the smallest amount of resistance. Ariel Marie Montgomery wanted this infuriating man to bed her. There was no two ways about it. And now, she had just proven to him the truth of it. With a shake of her head, she left the bed to retrieve her discarded nightdress that had fallen to the floor in their tussle. Come morning would be soon enough—my God! Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and wallowing in her own problems, she had neglected to make any preparations. Some wife she would make, she thought with a heavy heart. She would probably only be good at… Ariel shook her head. With her luck, she would come up short there also. * * * Cray slammed the door to his room, the extent of his desire still taut and reminding him of what he left behind, stilling his chuckles. Ariel had wanted him. He should be pounding away between her thighs at this very moment, taking what she freely offered. But his conscience, getting the better of him, knew she would hate herself come morning. Why the hell should he care? But the fact remained, he did. He wanted no second thoughts between them when he made love to Ariel. Seconds he would definitely take, but not Ariel’s regret of what happened. If his instincts were correct, the uniting of the two would be an eruption of detonating forces. Once he had a taste of her sweetness, he would forever crave her like a dependency. 171
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Craylen tore off his unfastened shirt, tossing it to the chair beside his bed. He raked his fingers through his hair, his scalp still tingling from Ariel’s touch. With a deep hollow sigh, he sank to the edge of his bed and covered his face with his hands, thinking of the coming day— Christmas Eve. For the last five years, he hadn’t celebrated his most hated holiday, which was only a reminder of a past better left buried. His house brimmed with guests all expecting a celebration of some sort. How on earth would they feel when no tree decorated the parlor, no feast marked the occasion? Damned if he cared. There would be no Christmas festivities within the walls of his house. His trousers still binding him, reminding him of a hunger gone unchecked, Cray unfastened the waistband, lie back on the bed and closed his eyes, willing away his desire to return down the hall.
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CHAPTER 19
The wind moving through the dormant garden whistled and bustled around them. Black strays of hair blew about her face as she grasped her wool coat in each tight-made fist and held it securely against her. A look of mild irritation crossed Adelaine’s face as she stared into the brown eyes of the taller man. She rolled her dark eyes heavenward in a dramatic attempt to look bored with the situation. “Really, Clifford, this conversation is getting a mite bit old.” Clifford grasped Adelaine’s shoulders within his gloved hands as his tawny hair blew in disarray about his head. His gaze narrowed as he tried his hardest to intimidate her, which Adelaine would be quick to add—he fell short. “Then it’s this man named Owen McCabe isn’t it?” Adelaine’s laugh sounded shrill. “I should have never told you about him. But if truth be told, you never did quite match up in the first place.” Clifford narrowed his eyes in blackened rage. “So then he’s the 173
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reason you’re leaving for Rhode Island so soon after the wedding.” “I never do anything because of a man, at least not since the death of my late husband. Really Clifford, it’s arrogant of you to think I might hang around here just to dally with the likes of you.” Cliff’s eyes widened and Adelaine laid her palm against his cold cheek. “I’m sorry, dear. It was certainly fun while it lasted. But now you bore me and I think it’s time I move on to more…shall we say, promising aspects.” Clifford jerked his face from her touch. “You truly are a bitch, Adelaine.” With a little humph, she smiled sweetly and replied, “I never proved otherwise. Let’s face it, Cliff. I think this little affair has run its course. Don’t you?” “Certainly, I never thought this little dalliance of ours would lead to anything other than it was, but I never imagined you cruel enough to discard me like a used piece of meat. Is that all you’re good for, Adelaine? Using men like they’re no more than a main course?” Adelaine laughed again. “Main course? Don’t flatter yourself, you were more like a snack. When men are no smarter than the members of his own family…well, what can I say?” “And what the hell is that suppose to mean?” The grip on her shoulders tightened painfully. Even Adelaine was surprised by the strength coming from the slight build of the man. “What does my family have to do with this matter between us?” “Really nothing, my dear.” Adelaine quirked one side of her mouth upward. “But I can’t bear to keep the secret a moment longer. Your family was fool enough to fall for my game. It was I who placed Ariel in Craylen’s bed back in Bridgeport. I overheard him asking the hotel’s owner for a whore in his bed…who better than my darling daughter?” Adelaine giggled in spite of herself. Heat rose to Clifford’s face, reddening the surface. “When I tell my mother, she’ll surely throw both you and your conniving daughter out on your rumps.” 174
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Adelaine’s smile was self-assured. Her guns were always loaded. Certainly, she would never back herself into a corner without the proper ammo to get out. “I really don’t think that would be wise on your part.” Cliff’s eyes raised on each the corner as it was his turn to smile. “And why would you think that? Because our relationship meant so much to me, I wouldn’t dare expose you for the bitch you are?” “On the contrary,” Adelaine shrugged out of his grip and began pacing, “I don’t think you’d want to hurt my dear daughter. After all, she had no part in my scheme. I gave her laudanum. She had no idea what hit her until it was too late. I couldn’t allow her to marry the low life she thought herself in love with and I saw money, prestige, so I took the opportunity. Is that truly so bad?” “You manipulated your own flesh and blood? Dear God! Have you no morals?” “Not many.” She giggled. “I learned from the best, my dear dead husband.” “I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw that man to his grave personally.” “The thought crossed my mind, but he was always so good with lavishing me with gifts. To end his life would have been biting the hand that fed me.” Adelaine shrugged her shoulders. “Someone else held the honors for taking his life.” “You are one cold and calculating woman. What the hell did I ever see in a bitch like you?” “Sex?” Clifford shivered, though probably not from the chill of the early morning. “I’ll see you pay for this, Adelaine, if it’s the last thing I do. You won’t get away with your manipulations.” “Without hurting dear Ariel, that would prove to be impossible. And I really don’t think you want to punish the poor thing for the sins of her mother.” 175
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“I wouldn’t dream of stopping the wedding between Craylen and Ariel, if only for the sole purpose of getting that poor girl out from beneath your wicked grasp. But mark my words, I’ll see to it you won’t get one dollar from this family.” “Is that a threat, Mr. Rollins?” “No, Mrs. Montgomery, it’s a promise.” Clifford stormed past her and through the gardens on his way to the house. Puffs of rising vapor from his breath trailed behind him in his exertion. Adelaine giggled to herself before she turned around and ran into the solid wall of a chest. * * * The scent of evergreen could be smelled from anywhere within the large house. Servants went about decking the stairways with garlands of greenery as swags were placed on the mantels and wreaths hung on the mirrors. The house had become quite festive overnight. Tabitha, had successfully made Cray’s home come alive with the Christmas season. “This is truly wonderful!” Ariel exclaimed as she made her way down the winding stairway, spotting Tabitha by the front door. “You have done a beautiful job, Mrs. Rollins.” Tabitha turned at the sound of Ariel’s voice. A genuine smile grew on her face as she approached Ariel, then placed a kiss upon each of her cheeks. “You look rested this morning, dear. I trust you slept adequately. Last night you weren’t looking too well.” The heat rose in Ariel’s face as she recalled the night before. “I slept as well as to be expected,” she replied, returning Tabitha’s smile. “It’s all to be as usual. Just nerves for your upcoming wedding, of course. There are pastries and cakes in the dining room if you’re hungry. My chef is an excellent baker.” “I thought Craylen’s chef was exceptional.” “Oh, don’t mind me. Craylen probably has the best, knowing my son, but I brought along my own anyway. Can’t expect one person to 176
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cook for all of us. Run along, dear. I’ll be there in a moment after I see to the final preparations of the morning.” The smile brightened her face and Ariel couldn’t help wishing she would look as beautiful when she reached Craylen’s mother’s age. “I just love this season. Don’t you?” “I guess I never really had a good Christmas before. My parents…well, it’s no longer important. Let’s just say, I’m truly looking forward to spending many happy ones with your family.” Tabitha drew Ariel into her arms giving her a brief hug. “I certainly hope so, dear. This is the first one in ten years we’ve been allowed to celebrate with your soon-to-be-husband.” “What the hell is all of this?” a deep voice boomed from the landing. Both Ariel and Tabitha turned toward the threatening figure on the stairs. Anger masked his proud face. His hair lay wild about his shoulders. His eyes glittered with unchecked emotion. Craylen tightened his jaw, clenching his teeth. With slow, purposeful steps, he made his way down to the main floor, glaring at both women who waited there. “Now, Craylen,” Tabitha began, in an attempt to re-route his anger. “These festive decorations are my doing, not Ariel’s.” “I don’t care who put the damn things up. I want them taken down this minute,” he roared in a voice speaking of authority. “I really don’t…” Ariel began, trailing off her final word when Craylen shot her a look meant to threaten her into silence. He turned his attention back to his mother who stiffened her spine and held her stance. “You don’t scare me, Craylen Wayne. You’re all hot air. Now I say the decorations stay until we take our leave following the nuptials a week from tomorrow.” Ariel saw the muscles tighten in Cray’s jaw as he fought with himself to not say another word. Finally, narrowing his eyes in a way that would have had Ariel running for cover, he said, “They may stay out of respect for you, but don’t think to include me in your festivities.” 177
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Tabitha released a sigh. “I really don’t know what made you the miser of Christmas, but if that’s how you feel, then so be it. Ariel?” Tabitha held out her arm to Ariel and escorted her away from the scowling man and into the dining room for pastries and coffee. Ariel could hear his answering growl from behind her but didn’t dare look back for fear she might lose her head should he be tempted to bite. * * * Licking the last bit of sugar from her fingers, Ariel caught sight of Craylen entering the room, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table from her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She watched as Craylen selected a pastry from the platter in the center of the table, then wrapped his luscious lips around the sweet and bit a large size chunk off. His tongue swept the remaining sugar from his lips before he gazed up and caught Ariel watching his mouth. A knowing smile grew on his lips before he finally dropped her gaze and looked away. A flush crept up her chest to her face. Her stomach fluttered as she remembered all too well how his lips and tongue left a lasting impression on her breasts. The strange numbness between her thighs that had plagued her through the long night, returned in a much smaller measure. Ariel looked to the table’s surface when Adelaine came bursting into the room, her face glowing with anger. All eyes turned to see her stride to the table in a mass of swirling skirts. “Mrs. Montgomery?” Tabitha was the first to speak up. “Is everything all right?” Adelaine’s gaze did a quick sweep of the room, before her face appeared to relax visibly. “I’m fine,” she quickly replied, taking a seat. “I took a brisk walk through the garden this morning is all.” Quick to change the subject, Adelaine added, “You’ve done wonders with the decorations, Tabitha.” “Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery, but I think my servants should be the ones you praise. They did the greatest share of the work. Not to 178
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mention, how beautiful my son’s house already is. It was easy.” Cray grumbled a muffled response, then shoved another bite of pastry in his mouth, all the while looking at the table. Had he taken what he had sought in her room last night, Ariel thought maybe his disposition wouldn’t have been so surly this morning. Instead, even though she knew he was as aroused as she, he had left her for the comfort of his own room and solitary bed. She wondered how many married nights they would spend in the same fashion. Both too stubborn to admit their desire for the other. “Have you gotten Craylen a Christmas present yet, my dear?” Adelaine looked at her daughter. Ariel’s face paled. Again, she’d been caught unaware and would be left later empty handed. Cray lifted his gaze from its target on the table and looked at her. The question was clearly written in his eyes. Had he thought to buy her something? Oh God, she was so inconsiderate. Later this day, she would insist upon being driven into town to find that special… What did one get a man she hardly knew? What did one get her future husband? The bottom of Ariel’s heart seemed to drop out. Now what on earth would she do? Tabitha came to her rescue. “Don’t put the dear girl on the spot, Adelaine. I’m sure what ever she has planned is to be a surprise.” A surprise all right. Tabitha had no idea. “I just hope Craylen has been as considerate, putting his own prejudices about the season behind him.” Craylen’s stare never flinched as he continued to look at Ariel. If she could only tell what he was thinking. His eyes were unreadable, masked to any emotion. He was handsome by anyone’s standards. Even the scratch that marked his cheek from ear to chin did little to hamper his good looks. Certainly, Ariel would have to find the perfect gift. She would later enlist Tina into making the trip into town and hope she would offer 179
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some endearing suggestions on what to surprise Craylen with. Finally, Craylen returned his attention to the cup of coffee he gripped tightly within his grasp. He kept his thoughts and obvious intolerance of the season to himself. Ariel couldn’t help wondering what would turn a man so against the day when Christ was born. But it was clear as the night was long, he hated the upcoming event. Craylen stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the polished wooden floor, and excused himself. Ariel watched the breadth of his back as he exited the room, not giving her a second look, or thought, Ariel figured. She stiffened her spine, raised her pastry, and bit into the sugary treat. She wouldn’t allow Craylen to get the best of her. If he meant to ignore her until their wedding, then so be it. There were certainly plenty of people residing in the house to keep her company. * * * Craylen readjusted the front of his trousers as he left the dining room and passed the entrance door, already feeling restrained this morning. He would surely go to hell for his lustful thoughts concerning Ariel. Even though conversation traveled about the room, he couldn’t help seeing her as he had the night before. My God, she might as well have been sitting at the table without a stitch of clothing on. This was the good Lord’s way of punishing him for how he had led his life the last five years. And a better punishment there wasn’t. A knock on the door disturbed his reverie. He waved a hand at the approaching butler and walked to the entranceway himself. Swinging the door open, he saw a grinning Matt Gilson on the porch, hands hidden behind his back. “What brings you by so early in the morning?” Cray grumbled as he stepped back, allowing his friend to enter. Pulling a wreath from behind his back, Matt slapped the evergreen against Cray’s chest. “Merry Christmas, buddy,” Matt said cheerfully, causing an instant scowl to surface on Cray’s face. Cray rolled his eyes heavenward. “Ahh, Christ!” 180
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CHAPTER 20
A chill ran down Ariel’s spine causing her to pull the blue wool overcoat closely around her as a draft blew through the carriage. Increasing winds gently rocked the conveyance. Small snowflakes blustered through the air, making the day feel colder than it probably was. Tina sat across from her in the coach, her nose and cheeks red from the icy ocean breeze they encountered on their shopping trip. Seeing the inside of Craylen’s house wouldn’t come soon enough, Ariel thought with a shiver. Even though she was used to the gusty coastal weather from living in Rhode Island all of her life, she had never grown fond of the winter—spring and fall being her two favorite seasons. The clatter of the wheels changed to the distinct crunch of shells, marking Craylen’s drive to the house. Ariel looked out the carriage window, her breath quickly fogging the small piece of glass. She wiped away the dew and stared at the approaching estate. A wreath trimmed with red bows now decorated each door and window as they 181
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approached the dwelling, the ribbons matching the redness of Craylen’s roof. No longer did she see the house as dripping with blood as when she had first laid eyes on it months back, giving her a cold and detached feeling, but that of warmth, like one might feel when they had made a long journey and were just now returning to their home, her home. A tiny smile grew on her lips. Ariel turned her attention to her maid who sat quietly, rubbing her gloved fingers together. “I certainly hope I made the right decision for Craylen’s gift.” “I think it is perfect.” Tina smiled, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “How could he not like it?” Ariel shrugged her shoulders and returned her gaze out the window. She hoped Tina was right. After all, what could she get a man who already had everything? The coach rolled to a stop in front of the large house and the door quickly opened. One of the footmen, dressed in blue livery, reached a white-gloved hand inside, helping her alight. Prettily bedecked package in hand, Ariel made her way up the steps to the front door. “Thank you, Edward.” The stiff butler who relaxed his guard enough to send her a private wink and a quick grin, before returning his face to his ever-present cantankerous state. Ariel knew it was just a front and underneath he was as lovable as a well-worn rag doll. The formal parlor had taken on a complete change of face from when she had left earlier in the day. A large evergreen tree stood in the corner decked with freshly done cookies and strung popcorn. A white candle was attached to branches every so often to be lit at a later time. The room smelled of fresh greenery and baked goods. Pastries and sweets sat on the side-table with a decanter of brandy warming above a burning candle. Cinnamon sticks floated in the liquid adding its scent to the room. A warmth surrounded Ariel’s heart. Very seldom had she enjoyed this holiday, always in fear of visits from her father when he had had 182
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too much to drink. A sigh escaped her chest. Even though his life had been taken from him, her nightmares continued to haunt her. But now she had Craylen to protect her. Never would she have to worry about Charles Montgomery again. Like Advent marking the beginning of a new year for the church, she, too, was getting a chance to start over this Christmas. Ariel walked to the tree and added her solitary package to the many gifts already resting there. Colors of red, gold, silver, and green embellished the floor beneath the tree. The small box was tiny in comparison to the others. Ariel only hoped her decision had been a good one. Tabitha walked through the door, a scowl on her face replacing the earlier smile Ariel had seen. Concerned by her quick about-face and what might have been the cause in her change of moods, Ariel inquired, “Mrs. Rollins?” Her future mother-in-law jumped at the sound of her voice and quickly shed her glower like the skin of a snake. The smile she now wore was genuine, telling Ariel at least her sour mood had little to do with her. “I’m sorry, Ariel. I hadn’t realized you were back so soon.” Tabitha walked to the side-table and poured herself a cup of warmed brandy, offering one to Ariel. “How did your shopping go?” Ariel took the cup from Tabitha, then took a seat on the settee facing the roaring fire in the hearth. “I found a gift for Craylen, though I’m not sure he’ll welcome anything coming from me.” “This entire affair, dear, is certainly none of your doing,” Tabitha snapped, before popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth, then sitting beside her. She placed a warm hand atop of Ariel’s. Surely Tabitha hadn’t figured out her mother’s scheme, for certain Ariel, too, would be thought of as part to blame. “I’m not sure I understand what it is you mean.” “Never mind, dear.” Tabitha patted her hand, obviously not up for 183
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discussing what was on her mind, then left the settee at the sound of a knock coming from the front door. She placed her half-filled cup on the table, then looking back on her way out of the parlor, she added, “Just enjoy your first of many holidays with our family.” Ariel pondered the strange conversation and temperament of her soon-to-be mother-in-law. Tabitha appeared clearly irritated about something when she had entered the room. But upon seeing Ariel, had changed her train of thought, as well as her disposition. And what had she meant by none of this being Ariel’s doing? A servant ladened with gifts walked into the room, stopping Ariel from her musings. He placed each of the boxes beneath the tree, adding to the already over abundance of packages. Never in Ariel’s life had she laid witness to so many gifts at one time before. The young man smiled in her direction, then began walking toward the door. Curious, Ariel stopped him, asking, “And who are those from?” “Mr. Rollins. That is, Clifford, miss. His servants just delivered them for him.” When Ariel didn’t comment further, the thin man left the room. Ariel wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to the amount of servants working here. Of course, once the wedding was over, most would return to C.W. and Tabitha’s estate, leaving Ariel and Craylen alone with a handful of attendants. The thought sent a razor-edge of fear slicing through her veins as well as a small amount of thrill fluttering in her stomach. After spending just a day in the company of so many people, Ariel was apprehensive but anxious to spend some time alone with her future husband, though until after the wedding wouldn’t likely happen. “My dear beautiful woman,” came from the doorway. Ariel turned to see Cray’s friend, Matthew Gilson approaching. His blue eyes twinkled as he used one hand to rid the black strays of hair from his face. Though Matt constantly brushed the strands away from falling over his eye, they stubbornly fell back into place. She stood to greet 184
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him, holding out her hand that he quickly took to his lips, grazing the back with their softness. “Mr. Gilson, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” He released her hand as his brushed the air, indicating for her to retake her seat. Walking to the table, he helped himself to the brandy. “Cray should be along in a minute. He’s still stewing in his study. The poor boy hates Christmas.” “I’m not sure I’m helping matters by being here,” Ariel mumbled absently out-loud, not really intending for her thoughts to be heard. “Nonsense,” Matt chuckled. The smile on his face turned his eyes upward, showing endearing little crow’s feet residing in the outer corners. Had Ariel not already been in love with Cray, she might have found herself attracted to this man and his ever-present gaiety. “Whether Cray wants to admit it or not, you’re the best thing for him this holiday.” Matt walked over to the hearth, placed an elbow on the mantel, and crossed his booted feet. “I don’t think he sees things the way you do, but I do appreciate the compliment. Will you be staying for dinner?” “I have yet to be invited,” Matt said, doing his best to fabricate hurt feelings. A well-practiced pout turned down his mouth, though the merriment in his eyes remained. “And what the hell is one more?” Cray asked in a deep resounding voice that seemed to fill the room. His shoulder leaned against the doorjamb in a rested position, causing Ariel to wonder how much of their conversation he had overheard. “I was under the impression, my friend, you did as you pleased. Since when did you need my invitation to sit at any one of my meals?” “I take it that’s the only invitation I’ll receive?” Matt baited Cray. Craylen shrugged away from the door and entered the room. “You’ll not get another if that’s what you’re waiting for.” * * * 185
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Hours had passed as Craylen purposefully held himself at bay in his chambers. At any time of the day, the sound of laughter and cheerfulness drifted up the stairwell and into his room, only adding to his already foul mood. He knew everyone waited for his presence to begin the yearly ritual of the opening of gifts, one in which he hadn’t participated in the last five years. A solitary gold box sat on his mantel as Craylen rested an arm on the smooth wooden surface and stared at it. What had ever possessed him into buying the damn thing in the first place? Surely not his mother putting him on the spot earlier in the day. In the past years, Christmas came and went without him buying a single gift for anyone. What the hell did he care what anyone thought? Cray let out a humph and rolled his eyes. Christmas. What a dreadfully selfish holiday. Give gifts to receive them. Isn’t that what the season was all about? To him, the day was a painful reminder of how much one could lose. Samuel and Tonja. Both dead. Both on Christmas. And both had him to blame for it. December twenty-fifth of eighteen sixty-four; four short months before the end of the war. They should have lived to see the end of it, not him. Cray released a sigh, picked up the package, and weighed it in his palm. Here he was, five long years later, given the chance to love again when he had thought it impossible. All he need do is let down the carefully mortared walls surrounding his soul. Why did the God above find him so deserving by the way of Ariel Marie Montgomery? Or was it nothing more than His way of a cruel joke? To send someone into his life who could steal his heart, catching him unaware, only to find out he played a small part in the Lord’s sense of humor when all was thrown back in his face, unrequited. But there was little doubt now, somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with her and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Placing the ribbon-tied box in his coat pocket, he left the confines 186
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of his room, and headed toward the nerve-grating noise drifting up from the parlor he had purposely avoided. The sound traveled up his spine like the screech of a piece of chalk dragged across a writing slate. His family filled the room, along with Ariel and her mother, and of course, his supposed good friend, Matt Gilson. All sat around the decorated lit tree, the first ever to grace his home, smiling and enjoying eggnog and brandy. The smell of the feast gone past still drifted about the air. No one noted his presence as he braced a shoulder on the doorjamb, taking advantage of the brief respite. His gaze stopped on the sight of rich red velvet. Sitting to the side of the group, not adding much to the conversation, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was as though he had never laid eyes on Ariel before this moment. Maybe the revelation of his feelings had him observing her from a different perspective. His heart pained at the prospect of their soon-to-be lives together, and the misguided hope of a new dawn for him. Could she truly learn to love someone like him so they might find tranquility together like that of his parents? He may not think much of his father, but C.W. loved Tabitha with his life, that much apparent whenever they graced a room together. As now, his mother sat at C.W.’s side, giving him smiles as only one would give her true love. And he would return her affection with a slight squeeze of her waist as he sat with his arm hanging loosely behind her. For all of Craylen’s prejudices against C.W., he was a good husband. Cray’s gaze returned to Ariel, her pale blonde hair piled loosely atop her head. A few stray strands had escaped the coiffure and framed her diamond-shaped face. Her lips appeared a deeper shade of red being complemented by the rich shade of her gown. Cray longed to walk into the room and boldly claim them in front of his guests for all to see, but wisely curbed his desire. Her flesh was milky white and flawless, causing Cray to remember 187
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all too well how soft it truly was beneath his practiced touch. His groin tightened from his wayward thoughts, and he clenched his jaw hoping to stop the pang from traveling throughout his body like the gnaw of a lion’s hunger as he spots his innocent prey. She smiled every now and then at whoever might be speaking. Craylen knew though, she felt none of the happiness she displayed. The emotion was sorely absent from her eyes as her gaze traveled to the tree from time to time. His palm dampened against the box resting in his pocket, sorely reminding him of his blunder at choices of gifts. How could he not know to get her sapphires to enhance the vivid color of her eyes or diamonds to accent the paleness of her skin? What had possessed him to buy what he had? The damage done, he entered the room and cleared his throat to announce his presence to the room full of his guests. All eyes turned to him, smiling in a way of acknowledgment. His mother spoke first. “We missed you at dinner, Craylen. Has your mood of the season soured you enough to ignore a house brimming with guests?” Feeling severely chastised, Craylen at least had the sense to blush. “I wasn’t aware you waited for me. I told you earlier not to include me in your festivities.” “So you did,” Tabitha replied shortly, testifying to his earlier spoken wish. “Well, you’re here now.” Then lightening her tone, she added. “Let’s open the gifts. Shall we?” Cray felt no need to reply, after all, his mother had always done as she wanted. She didn’t need his permission to do anything. Hadn’t she decorated his entire home without a care as to how he might feel? He took the only other seat available, next to his wife-to-be, feeling the first stirring of nervousness that he had felt in years. My God, one would think he was a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher and not only days away from his wedding. He wiped his damp palms across his trousers, trying his best to appear disinterested. 188
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Ariel wrung her hands in the folds of red velvet covering her lap, hopelessly creasing her gown. She knew Craylen had stood at the doorway moments ago, watching. She had felt his gaze the minute he had entered the room, not needing to look to prove her claim. When Craylen had finally crossed the room to take the vacant seat beside her, the butterflies in her stomach spread their silky wings and fluttered hopelessly in the cavity trying with effort to get out, slamming almost painfully against the walls. She took a deep steadying breath in hopes of calming her already frazzled nerves. How in the world would he react to the meager gift she had purchased? Craylen wore black trousers, which stretched tightly across his thighs flattening their crease, reminding Ariel of the strength he carefully kept leashed. A matching jacket hung open to expose a deepblue waistcoat over a cravat-less white shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. The breadth of his chest and shoulders took up considerable space upon the settee they were sitting on. Ariel had to lean to the side, attempting to keep much needed space between them should she burst into flames from the almost unbearable heat she felt creeping its way up her thighs. Tabitha walked to the tree, extracting a red package, wrapped with white ribbon, and handed it to Ariel. The smile on her face showed the affection she held for her. Had it not been for the room of quests, Ariel would have embarrassed herself by bursting into tears. Even her mother hadn’t looked upon her with such blatant fondness. “My dear, I want you to be the first to open a gift since you are the newest member of the house. This is from C.W. and me, and we wish to welcome you into our family.” Tears filled her eyes, though she desperately held them back as she attempted to swallow the lump now lodged in her throat. “Thank you,” she sniffed. “I don’t know what else to say.” “Just open it, sweetheart,” C.W. voiced in a deep tone matching his son’s. “Being a member of this family is thanks enough.” The white bow gave way as Ariel pulled the loose tail, then tossed it 189
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to the side. She lifted the top off the package to find a rosewood music box. Her eyes widened at the beauty of the dark red wood streaked with black. She lifted the box carefully out of the package and turned the key she found to the side, then gently lifted the lid. The soothing melody of Silent Night filled the room. Embroidered on the lid was a picture of Mother Mary with the infant Jesus swaddled in blankets secure within her grasp as the angel Gabriel peered over her shoulder. “It’s beautiful,” Ariel breathed on a sigh. She glanced from C.W. to Tabitha. “Thank you both so very much. I shall always cherish it.” Gifts were then passed to other members of the family as bows were thrown carelessly and boxes quickly discarded. Ariel watched as each member opened the prettily bedecked packages, exchanged pleasantries, kisses, and thank yous. The gaiety traveled about the room, but Craylen continued to sit in silence at her side. Three unopened boxes sat upon his lap. “Craylen, dear,” Tabitha finally took note of his disposition. “Aren’t you going to open your gifts?” “I haven’t bought any for you so these I don’t deserve,” was his curt reply. Electricity charged the air as a heaviness settled about the room. Finally, a warm smile turned up Tabitha’s small but lush lips. “Don’t be silly, Craylen. We don’t give you gifts to receive them. That’s not what this holiday is for. Open them.” Cray toyed with the red bow of the first package before opening the small white box. Inside lay a golden money clip engraved with his initials. He held the object up for all to see, then placed it back in its box and set it at his feet. “Thank you, Clifford.” The second box contained a golden watch with a train etched into the front. He flipped open the lid, stared at the moving hands for long moments, then snapped it shut, the sound clicking loudly in the now quiet room. C.W, watched his son carefully as Cray lay the watch back in its container. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet his father’s gaze. 190
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Cray narrowed his eyes. “C.W.,” he acknowledged with a curt nod of his head. “What this must have cost you.” “By God, boy—” he roared before Tabitha cut him off. “Open the last one, Craylen.” The apprehension on her face must have caused Cray to let his hostility toward his father drop. “It’s from me.” He glanced at the box with its pretty blue bow, then tore the ribbon free and opened it. Inside lay six hand-embroidered handkerchiefs donning his initials with a pair of heavy golden cuff links lying in the center. “You embroidered these yourself?” “Of course, I did,” Tabitha beamed in pride. “I didn’t know you dabbled in such things. They’re beautiful.” Ariel could see the love he held for his mother, clearly replacing his earlier bitterness toward his father. “I never did before, but with all my boys grown up and gone, I wanted to find something to do with my time.” “You did a wonderful job.” Cray replaced the lid on the box and set it at his feet with the rest. Two lone gifts remained beneath the tree. One being the small box Ariel had placed there earlier and a gold boxed decked with a white ribbon. Ariel left her seat to retrieve the box she had put there, then returned and handed it to Craylen. His gaze met hers for long moments before he took the offering. Ariel quickly retook her seat and with much anticipation, waited for him to open it. The room grew silent as his fingers toyed with the bow, then pulled it free from its tie. Carefully removing the lid, silver gleamed from inside the box and a large smile grew on his lips. The first genuine one of the evening. Craylen turned to face her. Their eyes locked and Ariel’s heart skipped a beat. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn true affection lie within the depths of his golden eyes. 191
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“Thank you,” he said on a chuckle, as his hand rubbed the wound left on his cheek. “My other one is not working as well as it should.” He held up the small token for the others to see. The silver razor gleamed with the initials C.W.R. III as the candlelights from the tree bounced off its surface. Henry chuckled from his corner in the room and a small smile grew to Ariel’s lips. She was certain Craylen had been pleased with her gift. Craylen nervously replaced the razor to its box, but left it lie within his lap. A more perfect gift he couldn’t ask for. Nothing could mean more than the small gift she had bestowed him with. How could he be so careless in his choice when she had obviously placed a lot of thought into her own? He withdrew the small package from his pocket as all eyes centered on him. “It embarrasses me to say, not near the thought went into my gift to you. You have truly given me a gift I will cherish not only in my thoughts but my heart. With great reluctance, I give you this gift from me.” Ariel accepted the small gold box, her fingers trembling when she pulled the bow free and opening the lid. A single strand of pearls lay circled in a pool of black velvet. Her gaze never left the box. His heart ceased to beat as his breath lodged itself in the way of a lump within his throat. How could he be so callous? he thought before he saw the single tear fall from her lash. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she turned her gaze upon him. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight with unshed tears. “Thank you, Craylen. They’re beautiful.” He lay a palm aside her cheek. “Not half as beautiful as you.” “Oh, dear,” Tabitha spoke up, noting the remaining package. “Adelaine, there seems to be a gift beneath here for you as well.” Handing her the box, she said, “There is no name on this as to whom it might be from.” When no one laid claim to the package, Adelaine tore the bow free 192
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of the box, tossing the ribbon carelessly aside and lifted the lid. Her face paled, then her eyes rolled up into her head before she toppled backwards in a swoon, falling off her seat. Tabitha screamed as she looked to the box that had spilled its contents onto the floor. There, in the center of Craylen’s area rug, lay a rat with its throat slit from ear to ear.
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CHAPTER 21
The small boat tossed about the water as the blustery winter winds blew with a force outside the cabin. The small potbelly stove nearly glowed with heat as the two men took turns feeding the fire in an attempt to stay warm. “I certainly don’t know what possessed me to stay here in New Jersey when it would have been much warmer to travel further down the coast,” Owen said before tossing back the amber-colored whiskey. “You know damn well it had something to do with that black-haired witch you find yourself so caught up with,” Tanner growled, rubbing his hands together. He had never approved of his father’s involvement with Adelaine Montgomery but Owen McCabe wasn’t a man who listened to anyone’s advice, though Tanner would grudgingly have to admit of being guilty of the same. “As if you’re innocent of not being of the same mind. You’re so blinded you can’t even see that there will be no stopping the coming wedding.” Owen chuckled. “Hell, didn’t Ariel choose Craylen over you 194
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the night he caught you scaling down his trellis with his wife-to-be? I’m surprised he let you walk away. He had every right to beat you senseless. Trespassing. Kidnapping.” Tanner laughed though he felt none of the gaiety. “If it wasn’t for him standing there like a lion guarding his prey, we’d have been miles away by now.” He took the bottle of whiskey to his lips, not bothering with a glass. “Ariel will never belong to him. Her heart is mine. Always will be.” Owen slowly shook his head. A frown creased his brow. “I’m afraid, son, you suffer from the same disillusions I suffered with her mother. Ariel Montgomery may have thought to be yours at one time but she now belongs to Craylen Rollins. I could tell from the brief conversation Cray and I shared a few nights back that he considers her his, though he never professed any feelings of love. And, with what I’ve seen in the past, it won’t take long for her to fall prey to his allure. I’ve never seen a man have as many women doting over him as he has and Craylen Rollins III certainly has had his share of women.” “So why are we even sticking around here then? Surely not because you’re still entertaining ideas of bedding Adelaine. Or is it because you like to see your only son suffer?” “Of course I don’t like to see you in pain. And I certainly have no intention of ever sharing the same mattress with Mrs. Montgomery again, unless it’s to wrap my fingers around her slender throat and squeeze until she gasps for her last breath.” Owen narrowed his gaze, silently eyeing Tanner before going on. “I’m keeping an eye on Ariel. After what I learned the other day, I want to make sure this wedding is truly what she wants.” “What?” Tanner’s eyes widened. What on Mother Earth could his father have found out that would keep them in New Jersey when it was obvious to all they both had lost the women they loved? “What are you keeping from me, old man?” Owen chuckled again only serving to rankle Tanner’s ire further. “I 195
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overheard Adelaine talking to one of Craylen’s brothers in the garden behind the house the other day. Seems she was having a little affair with him.” Owen paused long enough to shake his head, pursing his lips. “She was breaking it off with the poor boy, the cold and calculating witch she is. I might have been tempted to feel sorry for him, but he didn’t seem like he needed anyone’s sympathy. He held his own against her. Anyway, Adelaine laughed in his face at what fools the Rollins men are then preceded to tell him how she drugged Ariel and placed her in Craylen’s bed when she overheard Cray requesting the owner of the hotel to place a whore there for when he returned.” Tanner drew his brows together, contemplating the turn of events. Hell, if she wasn’t a party to the whole scheme, then why had she insisted on staying with Rollins when she could have easily left with him? “So Ariel was telling the truth when she said she had no idea how she wound up in his bed?” “Seems so.” “Then why didn’t she leave with me when she had the chance? Could Rollins be holding her against her will? Is it possible she’s that frightened of him?” “If that were the case, son, I’d have taken her out of there myself if only for the love of you and to get her away from that witch of a mother she has, but I don’t believe it is.” “And how would you know? Ariel loves me,” Tanner shouted, clenching his teeth. A sinking feeling threatened to swallow him whole, panging his gut, telling him more than words could, as his father had said, he was disillusioning himself into believing what he wanted. It was truly possible Ariel no longer loved him. His father’s eyes filled with sadness as he stared at Tanner. “I’m sorry, boy, but I’ve been keeping an eye on the estate for a few days and from what I could see, Ariel looks smitten with her future husband.” 196
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Tanner flinched visibly in pain at Owen’s last words, hoping his heartache wasn’t plain for all to see. “The day you saw Adelaine in the garden and overheard her conversation, did you speak with her?” “Yes, I got into a hell of an argument over her involvement and ruining your life.” Owen paused as though recalling the very conversation. His eyes darkened in his rage. “I told her if she didn’t stay out of Ariel’s and your business from here on out, I’d kill her myself.” Tanner chuckled to himself, knowing Adelaine wasn’t likely to listen to anything he or Owen had to say. Then he said, “And what did she have to say to that?” “That the wedding between Ariel and Craylen would take place. Over her dead body would anyone stop her daughter from marrying one of New Jersey’s richest men. But think about it, Tanner, even if the entire family found out Adelaine’s scheme, which I’m sure they will, they’ll never hurt Ariel. Adelaine was smart enough to tell this brother of Cray’s that Ariel was no more than a checker on the board. Adelaine had orchestrated every move. And by the looks of things, she will be crowned king by the end of the game.” Tanner placed a steadying hand against the side of the small cabin, as the boat continued to rock, and his world seemed to teeter beneath him. The other hand holding the whiskey bottle, he took to his lips. After taking a swig, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Then we’ll stick around until after the wedding. I want to make sure Ariel is marrying Rollins because she wants to. Because she…,” he gritted his teeth, “…loves him.” Owen narrowed his eyes at Tanner. “I hope for your sake, son, if you find out the latter is true, you’ll walk away and allow Ariel her happiness.” Tanner let out a humph. Not likely, he thought on a chuckle laced with malice. Not likely. * * * 197
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“I want her out of this house immediately!” C.W. roared with the force of the brewing storm. His face reddened under the exertion, causing Tabitha no small amount of worry. Though bull-headed and as strong as an ox, his age worked against him. “Sit down, sweetheart,” Tabitha urged. “We don’t need you getting all fired up.” C.W. batted away her helping hand. “Quit coddling me like some old man, for God’s sake, woman. I can take care of myself. I want Adelaine Montgomery out of my son’s house before this day is up!” “It’s Christmas, dear. You can’t think to throw her into the street today of all days.” His fist struck the small table’s surface sitting beside their bed. “The hell I can’t. That woman deserves no better. Using her daughter to further her own ambitions. My God, has she no morals?” Just yesterday Clifford had expounded his newly acquired knowledge on Tabitha about Adelaine’s involvement in seeing her daughter placed in Craylen’s bed. Tabitha thought it wise to keep the facts hidden until the day after their festivities, though it was hard to do with the discovery of the dead rat beneath the Christmas tree. She had yet to find the culprit who placed it there, but would likely pat the person on the back, wishing she were the genius behind it. She would give anything to see the look on Adelaine’s face again when she had opened the box the night before, fainting dead away. “Then think of Ariel, dear.” Tabitha urged her husband to sit upon the bed. “Clifford had said she was innocent of all wrong doing. You can’t punish her for what her mother has done.” C.W. grumbled beneath his breath. Tabitha ran a loving hand through the graying hair atop his head, then placed a tender kiss upon his forehead. She said, “The day after Craylen’s wedding, we’ll send her packing.” “Do we have to wait until afterwards? I should think I would strangle her first.” 198
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His light tan eyes searched out hers as C.W. grasped Tabitha about the waist and pulled her between his thighs. She looked down upon him, still feeling the years of love evident in his gaze. She smiled. “You’re a stubborn ruthless man, C.W., but I doubt very much you could ever be guilty of murder.” “It’s hard telling what someone is capable of under the right circumstances. The only reason she doesn’t find herself out in the snow, ass up, is because I think her daughter is exactly what Craylen needs. Out of respect for you and Ariel, I’ll let her stay. But mark my words, Tabitha, if she gives me reason, I’ll throw her out myself…if I don’t kill her first.” C.W.’s hands moved down from her waist until each palm cupped a cheek of her derriere, pulling her closer to him. Tabitha giggled as he squeezed her gently. “Now come here and give this old man his Christmas gift.” His lopsided grin turned up the corners of his eyes. “Why, Mr. Rollins, I do believe I gave you your gift last night.” “And I love the things you buy for me, but I can buy myself trinkets, although they mean much more coming from you. Now come here and I’ll show you what I really want.” He patted the bed beside him. “Mr. Rollins,” Tabitha raised her brows, “are you flirting with me?” C.W. rose from the bed and pulled her flush with his body. Feeling his exact intentions lying intimately between them, Tabitha’s smile grew before she deposited a small tender kiss upon his lips. C.W. placed a palm in the small of her back, holding her tightly against him, then said, “Yes, Mrs. Rollins, I believe I am.” * * * Craylen ran a warmed white towel over his freshly shaved face, inspecting what he saw in the looking glass. The wound on his face, still visible, made a clean slice down his cheek. His hair was damp from its recent washing and his skin still slightly reddened from the hotness of the water. 199
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Normally he would consider himself good looking, maybe not handsome, but fair in face. Today, though, he found himself lacking compared to the man in the portrait he had destroyed, the same man he chased off his property nights back. Where Craylen was light in skin, McCabe was dark. Where his hair was blond and uncontrolled, this man’s was black and as smooth as silk. Where he was large in frame, Tanner was slight. There was no comparing the two men and if Ariel had fancied herself in love with the other, Craylen doubted he would ever match up. A smile rose to his face as he chuckled to himself. Here he stood, a grown man, in fear of not quite measuring up to Ariel Marie Montgomery’s standards and he was the one marrying her only one week from this very day, not McCabe. A flutter of nervousness seized his stomach at the thought of the upcoming nuptials. When he had first come to grips with the fact he was to be married and there was little he could do about it, he had been mad as hell. Craylen hated not being in control of his life. All along he had done what he wanted, not giving a care what anyone thought. And even though he probably could have refused to marry the little minx, inevitably ruining both their reputations and caring little, he forged on with the sham for the sake of revenge. If he were to ruin his life, then hers, too, would be in the shambles. After all, this wasn’t of his making. Now, a few short months later, not expecting at all to be won over by her charms, not only was he looking forward to the day they would wed, he had somewhere along the way fallen in love with her. Cray turned to the bed and grasped his freshly pressed white shirt, shoving an arm into each sleeve. Certainly, what he had planned for tonight would come as quite a shock to Ariel seeing how they continually got on each other’s nerves. He donned a pair of creased black trousers, followed by a deep green waistcoat. As he picked up his jet-black dinner jacket, he spotted a cravat lying across the chair. Cray 200
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took one final look in the mirror, noting his shirt lay unbuttoned at the throat and opted to leave the tie behind. Hell, he hadn’t worn a cravat in years. Edward knew this so why would he lay one out for Cray? Whatever his reasoning, it hadn’t worked. He never could get use to the tight feeling around his throat as though someone’s fingers wrapped his neck and toyed with the idea of squeezing. Cray shoved his arms into the sleeves of the jacket, grasped the bundle of red roses he had brought up from his hothouse and headed for the door down the hall from his. He rapped solidly on it and waited with trepidation for it to open. He heard the rustle of satin as Ariel made her way to the door. She opened it a crack to find him standing there, one hand behind his back. Her blue eyes rounded in surprise to have Craylen knocking at her chambers. Could he blame her for being flabbergasted? Had he ever shown manners by bursting into her room unannounced whenever he felt the need to call upon her? Ariel smoothed a hand over her hair, then quickly ran her hands down her green satin day-dress. “I wasn’t expecting company.” A becoming blush rose up from the low neckline of her dress to redden her cheeks. “I’m sorry to call on you without first announcing my arrival, but I have something I want to show you that can’t wait.” He pulled the roses from behind his back and held them out in front of him, bowing slightly. “For me?” she gasped, her eyes widening. “For you, sweetness.” A grin rose to his face, certain Ariel had been pleased with his spontaneity. “Now, if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me, there is someplace I’d like to take you.” “Today? But it’s Christmas.” Her voice was small, timid. Cray held out his elbow to her. “Shall we?” A giggle escaped her throat. “Will I need my wrap, Mr. Rollins?” “I believe so. I’ve had bricks warmed and placed inside the 201
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carriage, but it still should prove to be a cold ride to the shore.” Ariel turned to retrieve her outer-wear with what Cray swore was an extra spring in her step. She quickly returned, took the flowers in one hand and placed the other in the crook of his elbow. “Lead on, kind sir.” Moments later found them ambling along the coast of the Atlantic as the carriage swayed in the gusty winds. Ariel sat across from Cray, wondering at his intentions. What would have him bring the two of them out on such a windy day? A snowstorm threatened to brew up with the approaching of black clouds rolling in off the ocean. She clasped the roses tightly within her lap, due to the fluttering of her stomach. Feeling the slight pricks of the thorns through the fabric of her garments, she swore she had bruised every stem. “To where are we going, Mr. Rollins?” “There is a place I would like you to see.” Craylen smiled, chuckling, the sound deep and jolting. Gooseflesh popped out across her skin. The man was truly unaware of the effect he had on her. His square jaw was so prominent it would only be found attractive on a face as manly as his. Though obvious to her he had shaved only a short time ago, she could still see the comely outline of the dark whiskers already threatening to grow. The scratch on his cheek had lightened considerably, and she fought the desire to lay a finger atop it, tracing its path to his chin. His shirt lay open at the base of his neck, giving way to the Adam’s apple bobbing on his throat with each swallow he took. If Ariel hadn’t known better, she would have sworn a case of the nerves plagued him. But of course, nothing affected a man such as Craylen Rollins. The blackness of his overcoat accented the breadth of his shoulders that seemed to fill the large carriage’s interior. Even as big as the Eightglass Coach was, Ariel was overwhelmed by his presence. His tawny eyes locked with hers. “I want you to see a part of me.” Ariel drew her brows together. At her complete misunderstanding, Cray 202
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chuckled again. “There is someplace I want to show you.” “It’s Christmas. Is there any place open?” Ariel loved the way the corners of his eyes turned up as he smiled at her. Her knees weakened and a numbing ache traveled up her thighs in a way she knew not proper for a lady. “Not that I know of.” His grin produced a row of even white teeth. Two deep lines traveled from the corners of his nose to the tips of his smile. “Precisely what I had in mind when I had a dinner packed for us in the basket.” He indicated the wicker hamper sitting next to her feet. Ariel’s stomach palpitated as she realized what he truly meant. They were to spend time alone. No servants to watch over them. No family to intrude. Craylen had set out to get her completely alone and to himself. A small amount of thrill traveled up her spine at the notion of being at his mercy. But what if he had no intentions of being the gentleman? Ariel shivered, filled with a mixture of fear and titillation. “To where will we go then? If nothing is open, you certainly don’t think to eat along the ocean in this weather. We’d likely catch our death.” “Not at all, sweetness. I said I wanted to show you a part of me, a glimpse into my soul.” He paused, holding her gaze, then raked a gloved hand through the hair at the top of his head and glanced out the window. “I’m taking you to one of my gaming dens, The Golden Lion.”
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CHAPTER 22
The sea air clung to his skin chapping the surface as the wind whipped his hair across his face, nearly stealing the breath from his chest. Cray held out the hand not holding the wicker hamper to Ariel, helping her alight before turning to the carriage driver and giving him quiet instructions not to return until well after sundown. The black coach, striped in gold, pulled away from the boardwalk, leaving them standing in front of the magnificent white building, gilded with gold trim. The words The Golden Lion embellished the stoned front with hand painted lions book-casing the title. Ariel stood stiff with her wrapper drawn tightly around her and the wind whipped the skirt of her dress about her ankles. Her silvery hair tossed weightlessly in the wind, hindering her face from his view, hiding any thoughts she might convey. Craylen approached her and grasped an elbow. “Shall we?” Ariel quickly fell in step beside him, whether to hurry herself out of the cold or to see the inside of his establishment, he was unsure. Cray 204
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withdrew a key from his overcoat pocket and unlocked the door, then held it open for his future wife to enter. After placing the basket atop the stage, he walked about, lighting the gas lanterns. Heat from the coal furnace located in the basement surrounded them. Ariel stood stationary as the room began to glow in bathed light. Her gaze traveled about, taking in the high ceilings, the balcony, the stage, and the many tables, searching out the vast open space. Slowly, Craylen approached, almost in fear of what her reaction might be. The Golden Lion was his life, his proudest accomplishment. He had started with smaller, seedier dens, but this…this was class, a piece of himself. Here, the elite came to gamble, not to lose money, but to feed their dreams. Here, he had no loose women, no prostitutes in which to buy, no beds in which to sin. This was used solely for the purpose of escaping from one’s daily lives, to leisurely gamble, drink, and be entertained. “Well?” he asked from behind, causing her to jump as his voice echoed about the empty room. “What do you think?” Ariel’s face could have been etched in stone as unreadable as her expression was. “It’s certainly a step up from the place I was in the other night,” she replied tightly. “Are the whores here better than the one’s at The Silver Dollar?” “Is that what’s bothering you?” Cray chuckled. “Then rest assured, there are no prostitutes here. Check for yourself…there are no beds in which to make money.” Her face relaxed slightly, yet not giving. “So there are no women here?” One side of his mouth cocked up. “Well, I didn’t exactly say that.” “Then what exactly are you telling me, Mr. Rollins?” She reminded Cray of a schoolmarm catching a child in a lie as Ariel crossed her arms across her chest, crushing the flowers still secured there, and tapped the toe of her boot against the marbled floor. “I do have women working for me here, but they do not sell 205
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themselves, not in the way you think anyway.” He paused, but when she said nothing, he continued, “The men who come here sometimes pay them just to be in their company for the evening. Like a good luck charm you might say.” “Some poor man is cheated out of his dollar just to have a woman stand at his side?” “The men who come here, sweetness, are far from poor and no one cheats them out of anything. Anyone who comes in already knows I have no whores in this establishment. They simply wish the company of a beautiful woman while they gamble.” Cray paused in his speech and walked a circle around Ariel. His eyes traveled the length of her, wishing to devour her where she stood. When he made his way back to the front of her, his gaze locked with hers. “And if, because of the company of a beautiful woman, he stays longer and spends more money…then the better for me…us.” “Us?” she scoffed at the idea as though the statement he made was utterly absurd. “In one week, what is mine becomes ours. Or have you so quickly forgotten?” Ariel’s cheeks reddened as she looked to the floor. “I haven’t forgotten.” She then raised her eyes and stared boldly into his. “I just thought you would think what was yours before is yours after.” “A marriage is a partnership as well as a bonding.” “A bonding?” Craylen closed the gap, leaving mere inches separating them. “Of souls, sweetness.” Her gaze traveled from one of his eyes to the other, as though searching for answers. “I thought I had once told you I’d never give you my soul.” A smile rose upon his lips as his hands grasped her waist and the flowers she held fell to the floor, forgotten. “I was hoping you’d reconsider…” Craylen descended his mouth, grazing the softness of 206
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hers. “Maybe that one day you might even grow to like me…” He touched her lips again with his. “Become friends even.” “I thought you didn’t want anything from me, Mr. Rollins,” she gasped. “Craylen.” He tasted each corner of her mouth. “Craylen,” she whispered on a breath as her lids slipped closed. “Do you think you could?” His mouth suddenly abandoned hers, causing her lids to fly open, blinking rapidly at him. Confusion narrowed her gaze. “Could what?” “Learn to like me?” he asked on a lighter tone. Cray turned from Ariel and walked to the stage where he opened the basket, setting out the packed blanket, candlesticks, champagne, and various foods. Ariel left the spot she stood and approached him as he finished unpacking the last of the contents. “I fear I’m already guilty of liking you, Mister…forgive me…Craylen. Though as hard as I tried not to, I’m afraid I was weakened by your charisma.” “Careful though, my bite is much worse than my mighty roar.” He stuck his finger into the meringue of the freshly made pie and took it to her lips. Blushing, she licked the sugary contents from his fingers, then watched as he took it to his own mouth. “Hungry?” The heat of her flush traveled up from the toes of her boots to the tips of her ears. Surely, she was as red as the maraschino cherry bedecking the center of the meringue on the pie. “Very much,” she replied, eyeing the lavish picnic he had packed. “I must say though, it is nothing like the picnics I went on as a child.” Lobster, oysters, clam chowder, scalloped potatoes, and fresh baked bread with apple butter lay before her, causing her stomach to growl unbecomingly. She covered her stomach with her hand and giggled. “By the sounds of your stomach, I say we best eat.” Craylen chuckled, the tone warm and rich to her ears. He indicated for her to have a seat on the blanket, then took her wrap and hung in on a coat207
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hook by the door, placing his own overcoat and jacket beside hers. As he made his way back to her, he unfastened the buttons of his waistcoat without a care for modesty, allowing her to view a good deal of the shirt that lay beneath. Her heart quickened as she remembered all too well the feel of his flesh barely hidden by the thin cotton of material. Cray sat across from her, lit the candles, then poured them each a glass of champagne, handing her one. The change in Craylen stumped her, confounded her. One moment he hated her, distrusted her; the next he courted her almost like a man might his betrothed. Seduction was more likely the reason for his turn about, Ariel assured herself. Certainly, he wanted little else from her. Ariel accepted the offered glass and took it to her lips, all the while watching him from over the rim. After swallowing the contents, Craylen quickly set aside the glass, then searched out the oysters, cracked one open with the edge of a knife, and popped the slippery object into his mouth. Though oysters were the attraction to many of the finest parties, Ariel had never gotten past their appearance. Why on earth would anyone want to put something that slimy into their mouth? Obviously noting her distaste, Craylen chuckled. He picked up another oyster, holding it out to Ariel, a wide grin splitting his face. “Come now, you can’t possibly think to tell me you’ve never tried them before?” Ariel shrugged, returning his grin. “Well…look at them. I have yet to figure out why someone would want to put that into their mouth.” Cray narrowed his eyes as the corners turned up. He took a wedge of lemon, squeezed it over the oyster, loosened it from the shell, and popped it into his mouth, letting it slide down his throat. Ariel curled up the tip of her nose. “It’s really not as bad as it looks.” Scooping up another oyster, he loosened it, squeezed the lemon over it, and held it out to her. “Try it,” he taunted. Ariel opened her mouth and closed her eyes, hoping that what 208
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couldn’t be seen, wouldn’t repulse her. Craylen placed the shell next to her lips. The lemon’s scent traveled to her nose before the oyster slid into her mouth, causing her eyes to fly open. Ariel’s mouth puckered from the tart taste of the lemon and her body shivered from the sliminess of the raw oyster. Craylen tilted his head back and roared in laughter. Finally, he said, “Swallow it,” between bouts of chortles. “You don’t want to hold it in your mouth.” “I can’t,” Ariel managed to say with the oyster still lying placidly atop her tongue. Had she been in anyone else’s company, surely by now she would have spit the thing into her napkin. “Then chew it a few times. You can’t leave it on your tongue forever.” His grin stretched across his handsome face. Not wanting to embarrass herself, Ariel promptly pinched her nose between forefinger and thumb, bit into the slimy thing, almost causing her to gag, then quickly swallowed, washing it down with a large swig of champagne. “One must obviously acquire a taste for those things.” “Those things are a delicacy,” Cray chuckled. “You do like lobster I hope?” Ariel grinned, feeling silly over her foolish reaction to the oysters. “Of course, I do.” The lobster meat was of the finest and the clam chowder the best she had ever tasted. Craylen’s chef had never failed to please her. She patted her lips with her napkin as Craylen cut into the pie, offering her a piece. “No, thank you. I don’t think I could eat another bite.” One side of his mouth quirked upward. “Sure you can,” he said as he took the entire slice to her mouth. Ariel bit a small chunk off the end before he took the piece to his own mouth, biting where her lips had just been, then placed it back in the pan. He stuck his thumb into his mouth, licking off the remaining sugar, the whole time not taking his eyes from hers. Finally, Ariel 209
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turned her gaze to her lap as her fingers fidgeted with the folds of her green satin dress and a knowing heat spread through her thighs. “You have a spot of meringue on your lip,” he told her. But before Ariel could take the napkin to her mouth, Cray placed a hand on her arm, staying her action. “Let me.” Ariel’s gaze flew to Cray’s tawny eyes, now filled with a hunger she easily recognized. He swiped the plates and pans separating them to the side, then placed both hands on the stage and proceeded to crawl toward her. Ariel’s heart skipped a beat, feeling very much the spotted prey. Her breath caught in her throat as her lungs ceased from drawing in another inhalation. Cray stopped just before reaching her, sat back on his knees and placed his palms on her cheeks. “God, Ariel.” He descended on her, his mouth covering hers, drawing from her a response. Unable to refrain, Ariel slipped her hands up his chest to entwine behind his neck, and opened her lips to him. His tongue quickly took the offer and swept the inside of her mouth, coaxing. Tentatively, her tongue touched his, hearing his answering groan as his hands left her cheeks and swept down her back, bringing her flush against him. Craylen wanted nothing more than to strip her free of her confining clothes and see her as he had that day in her room. He wanted to run his tongue down her satiny flesh and taste of all of her. Hell, barely able to stand the answering throb of his groin, he wanted to bury himself deeply within her. But he knew rushing her would be a mistake, and the only solution would be to wait for what she would one day freely offer. Unable to take another moment, he released her mouth and sat her away from him, staring into her passion-darkened eyes. She wanted him, of that much he was sure. But he couldn’t give her what she longed for and have her hate him come morning. It would be better then, to wait for their wedding night when she, too, knew what her body craved, what her body now craved. 210
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Cray reached into the pocket of his trouser and withdrew a small box. His hand shook as he held it in front of him. “I saw this yesterday when I bought the strand of pearls for you for Christmas. I intended to keep it until the day of our wedding. But…since today is our first Christmas together…well, I guess I might have to get used to the idea of celebrating the tradition.” Ariel took the box from his hand. Her eyes glassed over as she stared at the small token. “I didn’t buy you anything else,” she said, before turning her teary gaze upon him. A tiny smile turned up the sides of his mouth as he nervously anticipated her opening the box. “I hadn’t expected anything.” He paused, then looked to the floor. “Christmas is one holiday I thought I’d rather do without…a painful reminder…” He looked back to her, seeing the question clearly written within her mind. “But yesterday, you gave me reason to turn away from the past…to start a new beginning. Open it.” Ariel tore the ribbon from the box then lifted the lid. The gold sparkled in the gaslight as she lifted the ring from its nesting place of black velvet. The sapphire stone glinted as light bounced from its multi-faceted surface. “Here.” He took the ring from her small fingers and placed it on the third finger of her left hand. “I bought you an engagement ring and long overdue.” Ariel’s bottom lip trembled as the tears threatening to fall, slipped down her cheeks. Without a word, Ariel wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a kiss upon his lips. Cray gathered her within his arms, drawing her into his embrace, and returned her token of affection. He slipped his fingers up and into the hair cascading down her back, withdrawing the pins holding the rest of her hair piled atop her head. The silken folds fell, brushing the backside of his arms, sending flares of heat to his already painful arousal. If he ever made it through the evening acting the gentleman, it would be nothing short of a miracle. 211
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Finally, Ariel set herself from him, glancing at the ring now on her finger. “It’s beautiful.” “Not half as beautiful as you.” Ariel hiccoughed on a sob, bit her lower lip, and giggled nervously. “I bet you’ve used that flattery on many women.” Cray chuckled, knowing his guilt. “I might have said it a few times before.” He sobered his expression, never before wanting to convey his true feelings as he did now, and placed a palm on the wetness of her cheek. “But I’ve never meant it before now.” “Can I ask you a question then?” Ariel swiped the tears from her other cheek. Her gaze locked with his. “Will you answer me honestly?” “Ask me and I’ll tell you what I can.” Lightness of heart plagued Cray, and at this moment, he would give her his world. “What ever happened to sour you against Christmas so?” The weight slipped from its resting place where he had just moments ago placed it only to land solidly on his chest, hampering his breath. How would he ever explain to her his cowardice and expect her to forgive him when he had yet to forgive himself?
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CHAPTER 23
“Christmas?” he chuckled, though the gaiety she saw moments ago had slipped away. Ariel envisioned locked doors within his mind, and with the opening of each one, she would discover something new, something she didn’t know about this man. Craylen’s gaze deepened in sadness, yet the wetness of tears was sorely absent from his eyes. Suddenly, Ariel was sorry for having broached a subject probably better off left buried. He turned his face from hers, stood and left the spot he had been sitting, pacing the small area of the stage. “You don’t have to tell me, Cray,” Ariel told him, her gaze following each powerful stride he made. “I had no right to pry.” Cray whirled on his heel to face Ariel, pinning her with his glare. “On the contrary, you had every right. How can I expect to show you my world if I keep hidden away any secrets from you?” Ariel’s heart sank in her chest as she felt the burden of her own deeply hidden truths. Her father had defiled her; a secret she carefully 213
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tucked away from all. And here she was, meddling in affairs that were none of her business. A tear for Craylen slipped past her lash, down her cheek, and dropped upon her lap. Ariel stood and walked to where Cray stood stationary. She grasped his biceps, feeling the powerful muscles tremble beneath her touch. “I’m truly sorry, Cray. You don’t need to answer. I can see it’s something that bothers you deeply. I am but a selfish woman for inquiring.” Cray placed one hand at the nape of her neck, while the other cradled her head, drawing her to his chest. He held her with a tender hand, though she knew he clung tight to the emotions rolling within him, the proof in the powerful beat of his heart against her ear. “Her name was Tonja,” Cray began, the tone of his voice hollow as it rumbled up from behind his ribs. “The only woman I ever loved…the only woman I thought to ever love.” Ariel felt the tear as it struck the top of her head, knowing what it was without seeing. “Please, Craylen, don’t tell me any more…” Her own emotions suffocated any more protests she might have. “No, you have every right to know…” Ariel felt his jaw tense as it rested on the top of her head before he trudged on. “I met her during the War. She was the sister of one of the enlisted. A good friend of mine, Samuel. We shouldn’t have fallen in love. It was wrong from the beginning. We both knew it.” Ariel contemplated her own situation. Had she not tried hopelessly to keep from falling out of love with Tanner? Had she not scoffed at the idea of ever loving Craylen? And here she was, very guilty of both. “You can’t help what you feel, Cray. Sometimes things have a way of happening and no matter how you try, you can’t control it.” “You don’t understand, sweetness.” His chuckle was laced with malice. “We had no business loving one another. Tonja wasn’t like me…you. Her brother and her, their race was the reason we went to war in the first place. Tonja was a Negro.” 214
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Ariel stiffened in his embrace, suddenly realizing the reason Craylen kept his secret to himself all these years. Did he truly think she wouldn’t love him because of his past? “It matters little to me.” As though to put proof to her statement, Cray grasped her shoulders and held her away from him, studying her gaze. Ariel squared her shoulders and boldly looked into his eyes. Couldn’t he see the love she held for him? Shame crossed Cray’s face as he released Ariel and gave her his back. “But you’ve not heard the worst of it. I fear by the time I tell you the whole tale, you’ll likely find me the coward I know myself to be.” Ariel grasped Cray’s arm, urging him to face her. Her gaze narrowed as her brows drew together in an attempt to get him to see the fault in his reasoning. “Craylen Rollins, you are the farthest thing from a coward that I’ve ever met. You’re brave and strong. Even though you could have sent me packing when I pleaded for you to do so, you held strong to your pride and honor by keeping me here.” “That was more due to revenge, sweetness, than honor.” He chuckled, shaking his head at her misunderstanding. “You give me too much credit.” The blow stung, though Craylen hadn’t meant to hurt her. None the same, the fact was he had kept her in Atlantic City for one reason, he sought revenge. But could she blame him? “I give you nothing you haven’t deserved. I’m sure this Tonja would have felt the same. You’re a proud man, Craylen. Anyone can see that. Why would you ever consider yourself a coward?” Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he angrily swiped it away with the palm of his large hand. “Tonja not only died because of our love,” he hissed through clenched teeth, clearly hating himself. “I allowed Samuel to die for my actions, for what only I deserved.” Ariel stood on the tips of her toes and placed a tender kiss upon his lips, one to which he didn’t respond. Tears filled her eyes, then free fell down her cheeks, unattended. “My God, Craylen, you blame yourself 215
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for their deaths. Did you take a gun and shoot either of them? Did they die by your hand?” “No,” he spat. His eyes flashed in anger, self-hatred. “But they might as well have.” “Tell me,” she sniffed. “Tell me how they died and what it is you think you deserve.” Cray raked both hands through his hair, pulling the strays from his face. His tortured eyes, filled with an unchangeable past, looked to the ceiling. “When Samuel and I were captured and thrown in the hell they called prison, Tonja tried to help us escape. They caught her.” His gaze dropped, returning to hers. Ariel gasped, placing a hand over her mouth, only imagining what a Confederate guard might do to a Negro woman who meant to release one of their captives. Cray chuckled cruelly at the expression on her face. “No, sweetness, you can’t conceive what they did to her. When they found out I loved her—” “How did they know?” “Because I was so blinded by the emotion, my anger at her being caught betrayed us both,” he rushed in way of explanation then paused, clenching his teeth. “One guard beat her then raped her—over and over—in front of my eyes. I shall carry the vision to my grave. She tried to be strong, tried to endure…but in the end…” Tears fell unheeded down his cheek as he steeled his jaw in hopes to stop the onslaught. His eyes held the nightmares of his past. Cray abruptly ran the back of his hand beneath his nose. “I’ll never forget the look on her face as she gazed at me, the love she held for me so plainly written in her eyes. Then she grasped the blade from his boot and shoved it through her own heart.” “Oh God, Craylen!” Ariel cried, wrapping her arms around his waist and bringing her flush against him. She wanted to comfort him, take from him his pain. 216
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“That’s not all.” He shook his head as he set her away. The look on Cray’s face bore such cruelty Ariel could barely force herself to continue to look at him. “Her brother, Samuel, died in my place.” “How?” she asked, barely audible, not really wanting him to finish the story, but knowing he needed her to hear. “After seeing what the guard did to Tonja, I finally managed to free myself from the binds that held me, though it was a moment too late. I beat him to death with my own hands while Samuel watched from where they had bound him. I watched the bloodied guard intake his last breath, then without conscience, I drew my fist back and landed the heart-stopping blow. I killed him with my bare hands. I was covered in his blood.” “How then did Samuel die for you?” “I untied him just as we heard more guards coming. Samuel quickly wiped the man’s blood on himself. When the others arrived, he told them, he was the one who killed the guard. And of course, they were more likely to believe that a black had killed a white man than a man of the same flesh.” Ariel’s knees weakened. Unable to stand a moment longer, she sat back on the blanket, drawing her knees to her chest. “God, what did they do?” “I was unconscious. I remember very little of the time that followed. They tortured us both, beat us until neither of us thought we’d see the end of the war.” “And?” “I did.” Cray clenched his jaw so tightly, Ariel thought his teeth might give way, crushing them all. Ariel wanted to run her fingers along his jaw and soothe away the agony. “Samuel didn’t. They told me that buck nigger died the same day as my Negro wench. I was the one who saw the end and it should have been him. When I continued to try and convince them it was I who had killed the guard so they would take my life and end my torment, they wouldn’t believe me.” His 217
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Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he hesitated. “So in the end, I was the one who walked away. Both Tonja and Samuel died on Christmas day because I dared to love her and a few horrible months later, the war was over.” Ariel sat silently atop the blanket watching Craylen as he tried heroically to remain valiant. Finally, she held out her hand and he came to her. He grasped her fingers and pulled her into his embrace. Cray’s mouth sought hers. The salty taste of his tears drove her to despair. Ariel knew he needed her now, probably more than he ever had, and she was more than willing to comply. His tongue pushed roughly past her lips, seeking hers, tempting it into a sparring match as his arousal grew taut, lying intimately between them, telling her of his strong desire to have her. Buttons gave way as Ariel slipped them from the fastenings of his shirt, wanting to feel the heated flesh beneath. But before the last button was free, his hands stilled hers. Ariel glanced into his eyes, hoping to find a reason for not taking what she offered. The corners of his haunted eyes turned up so slightly, at first glance anyone would have missed it. “Why?” she asked. “Not here, not like this.” His voice was husky with emotion. “But you need me.” Cray chuckled. “God, how I need you, but not like this, sweetness. Come, let’s pack the hamper. Our carriage should have returned by now. I fear it’s time we made our reappearance before your mother and mine have the troops looking for us.” Ariel giggled at the thought. “You’re probably right.” Cray made quick work of placing all they had brought back into the basket, then turned down the gaslights and returned with her cloak. He helped her on with hers then shrugged his own arms into his jacket and overcoat, leaving all undone. Holding a palm up toward the entrance, he said, “After you, sweetness.” 218
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Ariel led the way to the door, then stood back as he opened it for her. White icy flakes blew in the opening as the wind whipped around the boardwalk outside, hindering their view. Even though they were not far from the ocean, snow blew about the winds, accumulating in mass amounts, obstructing it from their vision. Surely, no carriage or Portland cutter would make it through the drifts to retrieve them this night. “Craylen?” Ariel questioned. “What shall we do?” The heavy door slid shut as Cray pushed with his hands against the force of the wind. “I guess we’re about to spend the night together, sweetness.” Ariel could see the crooked grin on his face even in the dim lighting of the room. “I thought you said there were no beds here?” “There aren’t. Though, I do have a sofa in my office upstairs.” He grasped her hand and began heading to the winding stairway leading to the balcony. “I guess we shall find comfort within each other’s arms tonight after all.” Apprehension and trepidation slid up her spine. Moments ago, she stood ready to give herself to this man. Now, she feared she couldn’t. Her feet blundered in her footing and if it hadn’t been for his hold on her hand, Ariel would have found herself tumbling down the stairs in a pool of satin. Craylen looked back long enough to see that she was all right, then continued on without faltering until they were both behind the closed door of his small office. He threw a few logs into the hearth and began a fire, which quickly added its heat to the chilled room. Ariel stood quietly next to the only piece of furniture bedecking the room beside his desk and chair. “If I sleep on the sofa, where will you sleep?” “With you on the sofa.” His tone proved he held not even the slightest hint of discomfiture about spending the night together, alone. Once the fire burned bright, he took off his overcoat and tossed it 219
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on the desk’s surface, followed by his jacket and waistcoat. Ariel swallowed the lump in her throat threatening to cut off her airway. The buttons of his shirt remained unfastened which she had so carelessly undone moments ago. Oh God, what was she to do? Her heart beat so loudly within her chest, she swore Cray could hear it above the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Cray approached, nonchalantly. With strong fingers, he grasped her cloak and removed it from her shoulders. The dim light of the room was sure to hide her apprehension, but the trembling of her body would give her away in a minute. Ariel bit down on her teeth, willing the case of the nerves away. Her cloak landed atop his discarded wear as he tossed it to the desk. He sat on the edge of the sofa and laid down, nestling into the back of the overstuffed piece of furniture. “It would be a long night should you decide to stand.” Cray grinned, the whiteness of his teeth shining brightly in the darkened room. He patted the spot in front of him. “Care to join me?” “Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” Her voice shook as she cursed herself for giving way to her uneasiness at being alone with him for an entire night. But what alternative did she have? Ariel sat on the sofa, then stretched out stiffly in front of him. Her backside rested solidly against his arousal, leaving nothing but the fabric of their clothes between them. Dear God, what would she do when he attempted to divest them of the very thing keeping them apart? An arm came over the top of hers, as he pulled her firmly against his chest. She could feel his breath, warm and piquant against the nape of her neck, alarming her as well as enticing her. All her nerve endings were in tuned to each slight move of his hand, each shift of his muscles. He couldn’t breath, his heart couldn’t beat, without her being made aware of it. This would be the night she gave herself to him. This would be the night she became his, body and soul. “Craylen?” she asked quietly. “Are you sure this is right?” 220
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No response came. “Craylen?” she inquired again, a tiny bit more audible. Her answer came in way of a rumble. What kind of response was that? she wondered, drawing her brows together. Certainly, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep on her and taken to snoring. The rumble came again, not so much from his chest as from his nose. My God, it was true, he had fallen asleep. A giggle escaped her throat. Craylen Rollins had no intentions of taking her. And here she was in fear of what she had come to want the most.
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CHAPTER 24
The long-case clock in the entrance way struck the midnight hour. Night had long since fallen and Tabitha couldn’t help worrying about her son. C.W. had said Craylen was a grown man and could take care of himself. And of course, Craylen had certainly proven that over the years, but nevertheless, she couldn’t stop her pacing. Hours ago, the coachman had delivered the news to Tabitha that the roads were not passable, even if he took the sleigh. The snow was falling too rapidly, cutting off his visibility. In this weather, he feared missing his turn altogether and winding up in the Atlantic. He would just have to wait until morning to retrieve Craylen and Ariel from their picnic. Tabitha only hoped they were warm and out of the elements, and that Craylen behaved the gentleman. After all, the wedding was merely a week away. Just as she was about to ready herself for bed, knowing there wasn’t much else she could do, Adelaine entered the parlor, looking as though something had dragged her from her slumber. 222
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“Are Ariel and Craylen not back yet?” Adelaine asked on a yawn, stifling the sound behind her hand. “I would hope your son behaves himself. After all, my daughter still has her virtue.” “I should say, my dear, if not for your conniving, she would still have her reputation as well, not needing my son to protect it,” Tabitha spat, narrowing her eyes. She had little patience left and wasn’t about to treat Adelaine any different than the witch she was. Using flesh and blood for one’s own gain was incomprehensible. “I beg your pardon?” Adelaine turned eyes of innocence on Tabitha, infuriating her further. “Did I misunderstand you, dear?” Tabitha placed a hand on each hip and squared her shoulders. “Not at all. You, madam, have schemed your last scheme with this family. Clifford told me how dear Ariel wound up in Craylen’s bed those months back. You’re very lucky I’ve grown quite fond of the girl, or you’d both be out on your rumps by now.” Adelaine’s eyebrows rose smugly. “Then I take it your son spoke of how Ariel had nothing to do with my contrivance. She was innocent of all doing, of course.” “Tell me this, Adelaine,” Tabitha hissed her name in distaste. “How could you betray your own daughter?” “She was about to marry a dreadful man and make the mistake of her life. I couldn’t allow that to happen.” “So why my family? What made you decide on Craylen?” Adelaine shrugged her shoulders, then poured herself a brandy from the side table, tossing back the contents in an unladylike gesture. She turned, giving Tabitha her undivided attention again. A self-important smile rose to her lips, and had Tabitha not been the lady she was, would have walked across the parlor and wiped it from her face. “You see, that was completely by mistake. Or should I say luck? I overheard your son requesting a whore—” “I already know that part of the story,” Tabitha cut her off from 223
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reiterating her tale. “What I want to know is why Craylen? You could have overheard any man requesting a whore. Why my son?” “Your husband is widely known, dear. Tell me you don’t already know that. Be thankful it wasn’t him who I thought to set my own sights on.” “Don’t flatter yourself, Adelaine. C.W. wouldn’t have looked at you twice.” Adelaine chuckled. “You think your husband has eyes for only you? I am living proof of what a faithless husband can do to his wife.” “Then I thank the good Lord mine is faithful, because God only knows I’d hate to think I would have ever wound up like you.” Adelaine smiled, obviously undisturbed by Tabitha’s tongue lashing. “Besides your husband being widely known, so has your son got quite the reputation.” “Then you would have known him for the womanizer he is. Why pair your daughter with a man such as he?” “Ariel has had a hard life, unfortunately also due to my late husband. She needed a man who would keep his attentions, shall I say, elsewhere. And from what I’ve heard, Craylen is quite fond of his mistresses. Exactly what I was looking for in a man for my daughter. And who better than a man who can supply her with a fortune.” “The better for you.” Tabitha clenched her teeth. This woman not only had few morals, she was ruthless and cared not what people thought of her machinations. “And why shouldn’t I benefit from my daughter’s union with your son? It was I who thought to put them together in the first place.” Heat rose in Tabitha’s face, nearly blinding her in rage. In the years of raising three headstrong boys and one stubborn husband, never had she been so close to murdering someone. “You won’t get one silver dollar from this family,” Tabitha warned. She wanted to wrap her fingers around Adelaine’s throat and squeeze until those mocking eyes of hers popped from their sockets. 224
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“And shall my daughter see fit to help out her mother or buy me trinkets, you won’t be able to say a word, because it will be none of your business.” “The hell I won’t. I’ll see you dead first!” Tabitha scowled before she stormed from the room.
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CHAPTER 25
Ariel paced the parlor, her hands locked behind her back. Surely before the day was out, Craylen thought he might be forced to replace the area rug when the heels of her boots wore a path in the design. Nearly a week had passed since the night he and Ariel had been stranded at The Golden Lion. Tomorrow was the day he now longed for, his wedding day. He had become the perfect gentleman over the past week, supplying Ariel with flowers and stealing kisses whenever they found themselves in a room alone, which of course, was a rarity with so many guests occupying his home. And here he was, about to greet three more. Ariel’s half-sister, Cheri Storm, her husband, Ryder, and son, Joey, were due to arrive any moment. Craylen had sent his coachman and Portland cutter to retrieve his guests. Certainly in this weather, only a sleigh would make it through. At least the snow had stopped in time so it wouldn’t prevent the train from making its trip. “Come here, sweetness.” Cray patted the area beside him on the 226
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settee. “You’ll worry yourself sick.” And with a slight grin, added, “And we can’t have that. I’ve waited too long already.” Ariel stopped her pacing to return his smile. It was warm and rich, sending an answering heat traveling through his body. “I can’t help myself. I’m so anxious to see my sister.” Cray rose from his seat, walked over to Ariel, and wrapped her within his arms, kissing the tip of her nose. “But wearing a hole in my rug will get them here no sooner.” “I know.” She giggled. “I hope the trip was smooth for her. She’s eight months with child and I’d hate to have her uncomfortable because she made the trip here to see me.” “I’m sure her husband has taken good care of her.” Ariel smiled again. “You’re right. Did you see to getting them a room?” “I gave them yours, sweetness.” Her eyes rounded. “Where on earth then will I sleep?” “I had a servant take your things to the room adjoining mine. After all, tomorrow it will be yours, shall you ever feel the need to use it.” “And why wouldn’t I?” The naive look on her face caused Cray to chuckle. Her innocence truly humored him. Cray leaned toward her ear and whispered, “I was sort of hoping, once you got used to mine, you’d have no need for yours.” A becoming blush rose to her skin, reddening it all the way to the tips of her ears. Cray kissed her lips lightly, but before he could thoroughly enjoy Ariel and his solitude, there came a knock before Edward swung open the entrance door. The soft tread of kid leather shoes sounded off the polished floor, then the sharp thud of booted heels came from behind. Ariel flew from Cray’s embrace and ran to the door of the parlor. Cray heard a small voice ask, “Papa, we stay here?” A deep rumbling chuckle was followed by, “We sure do, son.” “Cheri!” Ariel exclaimed. “My goodness, I’m surprised you’re even 227
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walking.” A short dark haired woman walked through the door as Ariel stepped aside. Cheri’s hand rested in the small of her back as she waddled like a duck into the room. Craylen figured her slight height as well as her condition overemphasized her walk. Her face glowed with happiness as she embraced Ariel. “Let me look at you.” Cheri set herself away as a large man entered the room behind her, carrying a small boy. The heels to his worn boots sounding off the walnut-planked floor gave way to his approach. Ryder placed Joey upon his feet, took the hat from his own head, and obviously out of old habit, smacked it against his leg before depositing it on the hat rack, running a hand through his shoulderlength wavy brown hair. Cray noted he wore his revolvers butt out, secured to his thighs by leather straps. He wore a chambray work shirt, jeans, a red bandana wrapped about his neck, all beneath a short overcoat. A silver star rested upon the breast of his coat, marking him as a U.S. Marshal. Cray approached, extending a hand. “You must be Ryder Storm.” Ryder shook his hand. Cray noted the powerful grip. A man to be reckoned with. “This here is my wife, Cheri, and son, Joey,” Ryder said with a nod toward the other newcomers of the room. “May I take your coats?” came from Edward who stood stiff, hands behind his back as he waited by the entrance to the parlor. After accepting the outerwear, he looked to Cray and asked, “Will there be anything else then, sir?” “No, Edward. We already have fresh coffee, tea, and bourbon or brandy on the side table.” Edward left the room after a curt bow before Cray returned his attention to the Marshal. “May I offer you a bourbon?” “Don’t drink,” Ryder replied. “Coffee will be fine though, black.” “Mrs. Storm?” Cray addressed the woman now sitting upon a settee beside his wife as the blond-haired boy ran circles around them. Cray 228
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noted the obvious differences in appearance between the boy and his parents. If he hadn’t been told otherwise, he wouldn’t have known them to be related at all. “Please…call me Cheri. Black coffee will be fine. I’ve acquired a taste for it, living with Ryder and all. It’s kind of hard not to.” She supplied the rough looking man with a gaze bestowing her love, making it obvious how deep the feelings ran between the two. Craylen hoped one day Ariel would look upon him in the same fashion. Cray walked to the side table, pouring each a cup of coffee, and a bourbon for himself. After serving his guests, he stood by the hearth, an arm resting on the mantel, watching the women giggle as they caught up on the last few months. Ryder sat on his haunches, playing with Joey as the child circled him. Joey would come up behind Ryder and yank lightly on his hair, teasing him, then run giggling as Ryder pretended to go after the willful boy, not being able to catch him since Joey was always just out of his father’s reach. Cray couldn’t help but dream of the day Ariel and he would have children filling the rooms of their house. Girls with light blond hair and boys with curls who mischievously picked on their sisters. A smile rose to his face, as his gaze reverted to the blond-vision his thoughts so frequently turned to. * * * “The ride here was certainly long, but we made it,” Cheri said, patting Ariel’s hands which were folded across her lap. “But tell me, how are you faring?” “I’m fine, but I do have a bit of news. Since your telegram arrived a little late, I was unable to tell you of my wedding date being moved up.” “You’re not already—” “No,” Ariel giggled at Cheri’s distraught expression. “The wedding is tomorrow though.” 229
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“Oh, my, we nearly missed it.” Cheri’s large brown eyes rounded. “Ryder, did you hear?” “What’s that, darlin’?” He asked as he left Joey’s side and walked over to the settee and placed a tender hand on Cheri’s shoulder. “We nearly missed the wedding. Ariel said the date has been moved up, that they get married tomorrow. It’s certainly a good thing we didn’t dally a moment longer.” Ryder smiled warmly at his wife, the whiteness of his teeth showing brightly in the few day’s growth of whiskers. A scar stretched across his left cheek, only enhancing his fierce, proud look. Anyone with half their wits would fear the man before them, but not Cheri. Her sister gazed upon him in adoration. “Couldn’t of dallied too long, darlin’, or you’d a had little Gabby on the trip here.” “Trent you mean?” Cheri awarded him with a teasing smile. Ryder chuckled and placed a tender kiss upon her lips. Ariel smiled, being reminded of the last day she spent in their company in Rhode Island as they prepared for their journey back to the Arizona Territory. Ryder and Cheri had chided each other over the gender of their unborn child. Ariel hoped one day that she, too, would be as comfortable in Cray’s presence. “Craylen’s prepared a room for the three of you. If you’d like to retire before dinner, we’d certainly understand,” Ariel said. “The trip here must have been exhausting.” “They certainly didn’t need to make the trip at all,” Adelaine grumbled as she entered the parlor. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings any.” Ariel glared at her mother hatefully. Why must she put up with her at all? Ariel had half a mind to send her packing and not allow her to ruin the day of her wedding. “You’ll apologize, Mother,” Ariel bit between clenched teeth. “I’ll do no such thing.” Adelaine drew her brows together in a 230
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scowl, then complacently gave the guests her back. “Mother,” Ariel warned before Ryder spoke up, stopping Ariel from coming to their defense. He shook his head. “We didn’t come here to see Adelaine. You don’t worry none about us. We made this trip so Cheri could be in your weddin’. And that’s what we intend to see done if I have to hog-tie and gag Adelaine myself.” Adelaine whirled on her heel and glared at the Marshal. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Wouldn’t I?” Ryder raised a brow in challenge. Adelaine tilted her chin upward a notch. “That badge, Mr. Storm, doesn’t make you any more a man than you were in Rhode Island when I hired you to find my husband’s murderer. You’re still a low-life outlaw in my eyes.” Ryder chuckled. “And you, Mrs. Montgomery, are no more the lady now than when you tried to divest me of my buckskins the day I met you.” Adelaine’s face reddened. Her eyes rounded. Could it be true? Ariel wondered. Had her mother actually attempted to seduce Ryder? She turned a questioning look on Adelaine. “Mother?” Without a word, Adelaine squared her shoulders and stormed from the room in a whirl of skirts and petticoats. Ryder shook his head and chuckled. “I see your mother still doesn’t use up all her kindlin’ to make a fire.” “She does say what’s on her mind, if that’s what you’re getting at, Mr. Storm.” Ariel grinned. “What’s a daughter to do?” “You can start by showin’ us to our room, sweetheart.” Ryder winked at Ariel then looked to his wife. “I think maybe Cheri might be needin’ that nap along with Joey.” A grinning Craylen left his position by the mantel. “Of course, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way. Adelaine might not be happy to see you, but what Adelaine wants isn’t really my concern.” 231
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Ryder clapped his shoulder. “Glad to see we share the same view point, Cray.” * * * Hours past dinner, Craylen knocked on the adjoining door to Ariel’s room. The shuffling of slippered feet made their way across the floor before the brass knob turned, and the door was opened. Cray leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest. A smile grew on his lips at the shyness resting on her angel-like face. He had died and gone to heaven. There were no two ways about it. “Did you need something?” Ariel asked in a child-like voice, coy, demure. “You have no idea, sweetness.” Cray chuckled, watching the flush rise up her neck and redden her face. She tipped her gaze to the floor, but Cray grasped her chin in the palm of his hand, tilting her gaze back up to meet his. “Tomorrow will be soon enough,” he whispered. “Then why did you knock on my door, if not for…” Her words trailed off as her gaze traveled around him, glancing at his unmade bed. “To talk, sweetness. Just to talk.” Ariel stepped back and allowed him entrance into her chambers. His gaze did a quick sweep of the room. The undisturbed bed, the not lived in appearance. Cray smiled. He hoped to keep her room looking the exact same way. “Why does Joey not carry either of his parents’ traits?” Cray asked, no longer able to keep his curiosities to himself. Ariel turned to face him, her eyes masked in questions, clearly thrown by his inquisition. “Why?” Cray shrugged his shoulders. “I just thought since he doesn’t look like Ryder or Cheri, he might resemble someone else. Cheri and your father perhaps or her mother?” “No,” Ariel replied all too quickly as she cast her gaze downward, 232
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shielding her eyes from his inspection of them. Something about the question disturbed her. Cray walked over to her and raised her chin. “Why does my question bother you so? It has nothing to do with you. What do you hide from me, Ariel?” Stiffening her spine, Ariel stepped from his hold on her chin, and walked to the lace-covered window, facing the front of his estate. “Joey isn’t Ryder’s son.” “And judging by your reaction, I take it you know who is Joey’s father.” “Yes.” Cray walked up behind Ariel and grasped her shoulders lightly. He leaned precariously close to her ear in hopes to seduce the answer from her. He wanted only truths between them. “Tell me who it is you’re protecting, Ariel,” he whispered. “And why would you think that I’m protecting anyone?” she spoke to the window, not turning her gaze to meet his, not freeing herself from his grasp. “Because you have yet to tell me who his father is.” “And why is it so important to you? Maybe it’s Cheri I wish to protect.” “The look in your eyes when I asked, gives away your own anxiety. Tell me, sweetness, who is Joey’s father?” Ariel shifted in his embrace and turned to meet his eyes. Her gaze held his for long moments. Finally, with a slight lift of her chin, she said, “Tanner McCabe.” “McCabe?” Cray gasped, taken aback. The man had seduced both sisters. Had he no morals? “Your precious Tanner?” Ariel lowered her eyes. “He belongs to no one. Certainly not to me.” Cray released his hold on Ariel to pace the carpet, raking his hands through his hair, before returning his attention to his intended. 233
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Awestruck, he nearly roared, “Did you know this when you took up with McCabe?” She boldly met his gaze but held her position by the window. “No, I didn’t.” “How long had you held this fantasy of marrying him?” “For five years.” “Joey can’t be over three years old. So that means McCabe romanced your sister while he toyed with you.” Tears filled the pale blue of her eyes. It was all Cray could do to keep from closing the space separating them and kiss away all her pain. “Don’t be so cynical and condescending, Craylen. I didn’t know Cheri was my sister at the time, nor did I know what Tanner had done to her.” “What Tanner had done to her? You act as though Cheri wasn’t involved in the making of Joey. And why did he abandon the mother of his child? Tell me that, Ariel. Does a gallant man walk away from his own flesh and blood?” “Are you so hateful you can’t see the truth when it’s right in front of you?” Ariel shouted, as the tears slipped past her lashes, falling heedlessly down her cheeks. “My God, Craylen. Tanner raped my sister then denied the child was his.” “But Joey looks no more like Tanner than Ryder. I can see where he might question it.” “Not when Joey is an exact replica of Tanner’s father, Owen.” “Of course.” Cray nodded. “I didn’t see it before. But you’re right, Joey looks a lot like Owen McCabe.” The room seemed nonexistent as Cray paced the floor in his rolling thoughts. Certainly, the man he met hours ago in his parlor would be the kind of person to take Joey in as his own, without as much as a second thought. And Cheri had battled her past and won in the way of Ryder Storm. But what about Ariel? Cray spun on his heel to face his betrothed. 234
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She waited patiently by the window, her eyes wide and innocent. Why the hell would she think to scale down his trellis with a man she knew to have raped her sister? He advanced on her a few steps as she retreated, halted by the window, blocking any further backward movement on her part. “Tell me, sweetness, why it is you thought to leave with McCabe those nights back when I caught the two of you scaling my trellis? Am I so detestable you would prefer the company of a rapist over me?” Cray didn’t miss the tremble of her body as he grasped her shoulders. “Why, Ariel? Tell me, by God!” Ariel held her head high. “Because I couldn’t bear for you to hurt me.” Cray narrowed his eyes. “Why, Ariel? If you feel nothing for me, then I cannot possibly hurt you.” Hope sprang in his chest like the blossoming of a rosebud in the warm sunlight as its silky petals stretched and reached for the heat. Was it conceivable that Ariel, his Ariel, cared for him? When she didn’t reply, Cray leaned closer, their faces merely inches apart. “Could you possibly care for me, sweetness?” Her shoulders trembled beneath his touch as her body sagged against the window. Cray knew she had no fight left in her. He placed a gentle kiss upon her soft lips then retreated. “It’s all right to feel something for me. I don’t bite…at least not hard.” He grinned, before placing another coaxing kiss upon her mouth. “Tell me, Ariel. Tell me you care for me. I promise, I’ll never hurt you.” “But you will,” she whispered. “No, sweetness, never.” His mouth took hers, his tongue slipping past her lips and ravishing the satin flesh of her mouth. He felt her surrender, knew he was winning. Her hands slipped up his chest and entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck. Her body melded against his as his arms drew her 235
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tightly against him. The pert tips of her breasts pressed in silent plea against his chest, leaving nothing but the thin cotton material of her nightgown and his shirt between them, nearly driving him past selfcontrol. He wanted to pick her up and carry her to his waiting bed just beyond the door. Tomorrow, she would become his wife and one night would matter little. Cray finally tore his mouth from hers, looking into her passionfilled eyes. “Admit it, sweetness, you care for me.” “You’re a fool, Mr. Rollins,” she said as she began ushering him to the adjoining door. “I don’t like you at all.” His heart sank in his chest, distraught from her cutting words. Then a smile rose to her lips as she said, “But you certainly must see what I so boldly wear upon my sleeve.” Just before she closed the door in his face, she uttered the words, “Because I love you, you fool.”
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CHAPTER 26
Ariel’s words tumbled about his mind, making Craylen more lighthearted than he had been in years. Ariel loved him. And, of course, he loved her too, although he had yet to reveal his heart to her, but tonight would be soon enough. In exactly two hours, Ariel and he would be man and wife. They would entertain the few guests invited, but Craylen planned to dally as little as possible. First chance he received, Cray would whisk Ariel off her feet and to his waiting room up the stairs, where he would forever brand her his. And what was his, he would share with no one. Voices filtered out from the study as Craylen neared the partially closed door. He paused at the opening as not to alert the occupants, curious as to who might be using his room. He could see Clifford through the small gap, pacing the floor, his face masked in anger. A man, as yet unknown and not visible from the door, added his own comments, now and then raising his voice. It was obvious to Craylen, they shared a heated discussion. His inquisitiveness 237
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kept him standing by the door. One name rang loud and clear about the time Cray was going to leave them to their privacy. Adelaine Montgomery. His feet held fast to the floor as he listened intently. “She used you, for God’s sake,” the unknown man chuckled in malice. “Don’t tell me you actually mourn the loss of that relationship.” Cliff whirled on his feet and faced the other occupant. “I do as I please, and it would do you well to remember that.” “Haven’t you always? No matter what I might think? The high and mighty Clifford Rollins has spoken.” This conversation was none of his business, though the realization of his younger brother sleeping with Ariel’s mother came as quite a blow. He thought the rest of the story probably best if he didn’t hear. But once again Clifford’s words halted him from making a quick retreat. “You loved me,” Cliff challenged. My God, Cray thought, surely the implication of those words he had all wrong. Cray drew his brows together, running a hand over his slightly whiskered jaw. “With all my heart…and I would do anything for you. If only…” “What?” Cliff chuckled. “Love only you?” Cray’s heart sank in his chest. His stomach soured as bile rose in his throat. Surely, not… “And why not? Do you find me so detestable? Am I unpleasant to your eye, Clifford? Do I no longer please you?” Clifford approached the man, walking from Cray’s view. “Of course, you do. And you know how attracted I am to you.” Cray could hear the pats on a back, knowing full well the occupants to the room had embraced. “I dally with women now and then, but I always return to you. No one satisfies me the way you do.” Dear God in heaven. Clifford never had an abundance of women or dated often in the past, but…surely, not. 238
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“I love you, Cliff, and what upsets you, also disturbs me. I take care of my own.” Not being able to listen to another word, Cray cleared his throat to notify the cozy couple of his presence before entering the room. His curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he had to find out who Clifford…What? Clifford loved? Was the implication possible? Clifford stood by the hearth, a look of guilt cloaked his expression as the slight in height, attractive man stood boldly by his side. The man’s hands were deep in the pockets of his trousers as he rocked slowly from the balls of his feet to his heels. He was certainly effeminate. Craylen would give him that much. “Clifford,” Cray acknowledged as he walked to his desk and pretended to search through the papers littering the top. “I don’t believe you’ve met Davon Alexander.” Clifford squared his shoulders. “He is my…protégé. I am teaching him the ropes of my law practice so we may one day become partners. Davon, this is my older brother, Craylen, the one about to be married.” “Mr. Alexander.” Papers forgotten, Cray reached a hand out and shook the smaller man’s hand. Davon’s grip was light, but nonetheless firm. The man’s attire was impeccable. Not a crease in sight where one didn’t belong. His blond hair combed carefully to the side, not a strand out of place. His blue eyes almost demure; his lips full. A dimple rested in the center of his chin. Craylen thought this man surely had his share of women falling over themselves to get to him. Though, by the looks of things, women would interest him little. “Please, call me Davon, Mr. Rollins.” “Davon,” Cray nodded, eyeing him carefully. “And you may call me Cray, of course.” “I hope you don’t mind, I took it upon myself to invite him today, Craylen,” Cliff said in an apologetic tone. “Not at all. Please, help yourselves to the refreshments in the parlor. 239
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But if the two of you will now excuse me, my groomsman should be arriving at any moment.” Cray headed for the exit. He couldn’t leave the room fast enough as far as he was concerned. My God, his own brother. Had anyone else in the family known? Surely, he wouldn’t be the one to expound the news upon them. Hell, he would have been better off kept in the dark. “Cray?” Clifford called out. “Yes?” He stopped by the door, turning his head to the side to look back at his brother. “The paper,” Clifford pointed to the desk, “did you find what it was you were looking for?” “Oh, that. It wasn’t important,” and Cray left the room, closing the door behind him. Hand still on the knob, Cray rested his back on the solid wood, staring into space. Not only was Clifford sleeping with Adelaine Montgomery, but Davon Alexander as well. Some things in life were better left not understood, if not unknown altogether. As he pushed off the study’s door, a knock sounded upon the entrance. But before Cray could answer the call, the door swung open as the guest let himself in. Matt stood just inside the door when he spotted Cray coming toward him. “Cray, my good man.” He slapped him on the shoulder with one hand, while his other shook Cray’s right hand. Matt wore a sleek black tuxedo, trimmed in satin, a white shirt and red tie beneath, with a silk waistcoat matching the color of the tie. “Today’s the day. You ready?” he asked with the raise of a brow. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” Cray said, releasing a long held breath through pursed lips. “Don’t look so glum. Hell, if I were marrying her, they wouldn’t get me to the alter fast enough.” Matt flashed him one of his devilish grins. “Don’t even think about it, Matt. She’s all mine,” Cray warned with a returned grin as he led Matt to the parlor where the servants were 240
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busy readying it for the upcoming festivities. The back parlor was closed off until after the nuptials when refreshments of sweets and cake would be served. Cray had bought cases of champagne and planned on seeing his bride tipsy enough to curb any wedding night anxieties she might have. He had waited long enough, and one more night he definitely wouldn’t. “Well, I’m glad to see you’ve had a change of heart, my good man. You’re walking away with the prize this time.” Matt’s grin shown brightly within his eyes. “Hell of a girl Ariel is. Though, I’m not in too much of a hurry to join you in wedded bliss.” “Of course you aren’t. Here.” Cray handed Matt a short glass and filled it with bourbon, then filled one for himself. “But I’ll tell you, Matt, I can’t get there fast enough for my liking.” “And what’s brought this change of heart? Last time I saw you, your temperament was at its limitation. Hell, you didn’t even want to discuss the wedding.” “Ariel changed my line of thinking.” Cray grasped the front of his own shirt within his fist as though his heart pained him. “Somewhere along the line, she seduced my heart and stole it.” “That’s wonderful. Have you told her this?” “No, but I plan to tonight. I’ve fallen in love with the little minx. And you know what? She’s told me that she loves me.” Matt held his hand over his chest in mock surprise. “No! Don’t tell me another has fallen under the Craylen Rollins’ allure. This can’t be so. You’ve always gotten the good ones and I always get stuck with the leftovers.” Cray chuckled. “That’s because you’re too busy moving from one to the next to realize which one was good until it’s passed you by.” “As I recall, so were you, not too long ago.” “Those days are long gone, my friend. Speaking of which, I need you to oversee my clubs for the time being. I’ll find someone else to manage The Golden Lion while you overtake the running of all my 241
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dens. I might be tied up with my nights for a while—if not permanently.” “A promotion? Well, I certainly hope it’s permanent.” Matt grinned, narrowing an eye. “I better not see you there again unless you have that beautiful wife on your arm, either. Don’t worry about the business end at the clubs. I’ll take care of things. But I’ll send you the paper work.” “That will be the day I trust you with all my money, Matt Gilson. First floozy to come along would swindle you right out of my fortune.” Matt gave him a wounded look, but Cray knew better. It would take a lot more to scratch his pride than a few slung insults from him. Besides, Cray put his complete trust in Matthew Gilson. “Make yourself comfortable. I best get ready. I have less than two hours before I take on a wife.” Cray grinned and handed Matt his empty bourbon glass, before heading from the room. * * * Cray paced his quarters, hands locked behind his back, deep in thought. Tabitha stood demurely by the door, a look of concern crossing her face. “So what Ariel had told me was the truth. Her mother had orchestrated the whole turn of events herself.” “I’m afraid so, Cray.” His mother gnawed on her lower lip as Cray walked from one side of the room to the other, every now and then glancing her way. Cray gave his mother a final look then glared out the window. The object of his despair, hell, his hatred, stood just outside his hothouse, talking to one of his servants. Probably, no doubt, trying to worm her way into the servant’s pants as well. Cray returned his attention to the woman across the room, the woman who had given him life. He respected and loved his mother very deeply as he knew she did him. Cray also knew how much it must pain her to be the one to tell him of Adelaine’s deceptions. But by the look on Tabitha’s face, she must be worried as to whether Cray would 242
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throw Ariel out as well. Not a chance. “Curb your worries, Mother. I will marry Ariel within the hour. But first,” he returned his gaze to the woman outside his window, “I have someone I must confront.” “Remember, Craylen,” Tabitha warned, “no matter what she’s done, she is still Ariel’s mother. Have the kindness in your heart to leave this go until after your wedding night. Then…if you don’t throw her out on her ass…I will.” With that, Tabitha turned and exited the room, softly closing the door behind her. Cray laughed to himself. He had no doubt Tabitha would do as she said, but Cray wouldn’t give her the chance. First thing tomorrow morning Adelaine Montgomery would be on a train heading to Rhode Island, coach class. * * * “Mrs. Montgomery,” Cray requested as he approached her in long strides. “May I have a word with you.” He eyed the servant standing with her, then added, “Alone.” His servant made a hasty retreat for the door leading to the back parlor before Cray turned his gaze back to the woman before him. Hate seeped through his pores. This woman had purposely set out to ruin his life, to destroy his future, and all for what—the gain of his wealth? Certainly, he would see she didn’t get one silver dollar if he had to see to her death personally. “Mr. Rollins.” She smiled sweetly. Craylen wanted to gag first, then wrap his fingers around Adelaine’s slender throat and squeeze until he watched her take her last breath. This woman was detestable, abhorrent. “What can I do for you?” Cray chuckled as he ran a hand over his now cleanly shaven jaw. The black tuxedo jacket he wore was neatly pressed, as were the matching trousers. His shoes shined to perfection. The white satin tie lay undone about his neck, matching the color of his waistcoat and pristine shirt beneath. In short, he was ready for his wedding only a few 243
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brief moments away. But some things needed attended to, some things that couldn’t be left unfinished. “You can start by packing all of your belongings.” Cray hissed in hushed tones. Adelaine’s eyes first rounded in shock, then turned up on the corners, mocking him. “So you know?” “About which part, Adelaine? The part where you stuck Ariel in my bed? Where you set out to ruin your own daughter’s life…and mine?” Cray roared, no longer able to leash his rising ire. “Or the part where you slept with my brother?” Adelaine giggled, not threatened in the least bit by Cray, that much being obvious to him. “So you’ve found me out. Should I be worried?” One brow rose, taunting him. Hell, if it wasn’t for his wedding being only minutes away, he would see to her death—right here, right now. His fingers itched to feel the texture of her throat. “If I were you, Adelaine Montgomery, I’d keep a good watch on your back until you leave this town.” “Oh, another threat?” Adelaine giggled, tilting her head back. The sound grated over his already taut nerves. “Should I be scared, Mr. Rollins?” “Most definitely, Mrs. Montgomery. I don’t make threats lightly. Pack your bags and be gone before I rise tomorrow. You’re very lucky it’s your daughter’s wedding day or I’d see you packing now.” Adelaine placed a fist on each side of her hips and squared her shoulders. “I’ll go when I see fit, Mr. Rollins. You don’t scare me.” “You’ll be gone before I rise, which due to my wedding night, won’t be early. That should give you plenty of time. I’ll see that Edward books you first passage on a train heading out of Atlantic City. I want you gone, Mrs. Montgomery—out of my life, out of your daughter’s life.” “And should she wish to see me?” 244
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“Then I’ll send her north for a visit. You are no longer welcome on my estate after this day.” Adelaine narrowed her gaze at Cray. “And should I need money?” “Starve!” “You know very well, my dear Ariel wouldn’t allow that, Mr. Rollins. One day, I’ll need money and I’ll appeal to my darling daughter’s sensibility. She’ll see I am well taken care of.” Her mocking attitude was about all Craylen could take. He balled his fists to his side. “I’ll see you to hell first.” He turned on his heel and stormed back to his house. Damned if he’d ever allow her to get her greedy fingers on his hard earned money. Entering the back of the house, Cray could hear the harpsichord playing in the front parlor, entertaining the few invited guests milling there. Cray squared his shoulders, walked through the doorway and into the kitchen where Matt and the minister waited, engaged in conversation. “Excuse me,” Cray interrupted. “Are we about ready? I, for one, am ready to get this over with.” “Second thoughts?” Matt asked, eyeing him carefully. “None where Ariel is concerned, if that’s what is worrying you,” Cray replied shortly. “By all means then,” the reverend spoke up, the book of the Lord firm in hand. “Follow me into the front parlor and we will get this sanctified union underway.”
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CHAPTER 27
Ariel checked her appearance one final time in the looking glass. Her hair swooped into a loose coiffure with several tendrils left framing her face. A ring of white roses and greenery graced the top of her head with a veil attached around it. Her pale pink gown rested just off her shoulders, cinched tight about the bodice and waist, then falling in shimmering satin to pool at her pink slippered feet. Red ribbon rosettes bedecked the bodice and waist of the gown. Never in her life had she thought she looked more beautiful. She only hoped Craylen would agree. Her stomach had gone aflutter since rising this morning and she was unable to keep a single bite down. With any luck, she wouldn’t embarrass herself at the levee following the nuptials. The wedding night had come to mind as it did so often of late. Tears filled her eyes. How would she ever tell Craylen the truth when he expected a virgin bride in his bed? The fact remained, she had little choice. She would have to tell him every sordid detail of what her 246
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father had done, and hope he wouldn’t be disgusted with her. After all, what choice had she in her earlier years? She was nothing more than a victim of her father’s cruelty. A single tear escaped its resting place on her lash and slipped down her cheek when Tina entered the room. “Mistress, don’t cry,” her maid said as she walked up beside her. “It is your wedding day. You should be happy today of all days.” “I know…and I am…really.” Ariel faced Tina, smiling. “The man waiting for me downstairs is the most handsome man in the world, and I love him with all my heart.” “Then why the call for tears?” “Nervousness, nothing more.” Ariel ran a hand over her cheek, wiping away the wetness. She tried her best to be courageous. “Is my escort waiting for me?” “Henry is right outside, smiling from ear to ear. I think he couldn’t be prouder to escort you to your soon-to-be husband if he was your own father.” Another tear slipped from Ariel’s lashes. “He’s become such a good friend to me. I wouldn’t think of asking anyone else. Is everyone ready?” “They’re all waiting for you, Mistress.” “Good, then we must not keep them. Send Henry in and inform them I’m on my way.” Tina walked from the room, an air of happiness surrounding her, a spring in her step. Ariel knew Tina was delighted for her. After all, wasn’t she the first to guess Ariel had fallen in love with Craylen? And with any luck—soon, Cray, too, would find himself falling in love with her. With a deep-felt sigh, she thought she could only hope for as much. “You look beautiful,” Henry beamed as he entered her chambers. “I don’t think I would be more delighted if I was marrying you myself.” His tuxedo clung tight to his broad shoulders and chest, then slipped 247
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down to a trim waist. His red satin tie matched his waistcoat. Somehow, the color managed to make the devilish gleam in his eyes more pronounced. Ariel couldn’t help but smile, wondering what Henry might have in store. After all, it had been some time since his last prank. “Thank you, Henry.” Ariel wrapped her arms around him as he took her into his embrace. “You are such a good friend to me,” she whispered into his chest. Her voice cracked, giving way to her broken emotion. “Don’t cry, Ariel. All will turn out fine. You’ll see. Just think, soon,” Henry released her and stepped back, clasping her shoulders, his brows rose as his grin widened, “you may call me brother.” “That will be wonderful.” Ariel returned his smile, though her lips trembled. “Only a few short months ago I was able to claim a sister. Now I will have a brother as well.” “Not one, but two. You’ll also have Clifford. But I suppose the idea of him as relation is not as appealing as me.” Ariel giggled. “I don’t suppose so.” “We better not keep the groom waiting.” Ariel rested her hand not holding the bouquet of white roses and satin ribbons on Henry’s forearm. “Shall we?” asked Henry. “Have you seen Cheri?” “She is waiting at the bottom of the steps for you. With the extra weight she’s carrying, I told her to stay right where she was. Didn’t want Craylen’s carpet runners worn more than necessary.” “You didn’t?” Ariel gasped. “No, I didn’t.” Henry laughed. “You really think I would say something so cruel?” “With you one never knows.” Ariel giggled, then inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slowly. “Well, I guess we better head downstairs and see this union made.” 248
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* * * Cray stood at the front of the parlor, eyes fixed on the entrance door. How much longer would he be made to wait? His stomach fluttered for the first time in years. Hell, he was actually nervous. Moments away, his life would be changed irrevocably. No longer would he live for gambling, bourbon, and women. He would have a wife to support and with any luck a large family as well. Matt stood beside him, his ever-present grin resting on his face. Cray had always thought this situation would be reversed. Matt would be the first one married and he would be standing at his side—certainly, not the other way around. His invited guests stood patiently conversing about the room while the woman hired to play the harpsichord plucked Christian hymns on the strings to entertain those gathered. His mother and C.W. stood to the front of the room, as were Clifford and his friend, Davon. Ryder Storm, dressed in a jacket and thin tie, stood with Joey secure within his arms toward the rear of the parlor. All anxiously awaiting the same as he. Adelaine stood to the side, alone. A slim bit of satisfaction slithered its way up his spine. He found no room in his heart to pity her. After all, she’d signed her own fate. Finally, the moment he had waited a lifetime for had arrived. Cheri stepped into the room, dressed in pale yellow satin, carrying a small bouquet of yellow roses. Behind her stood a vision in the palest of pinks, linked on the arm of his youngest brother, Henry. As Cheri made her way through the gathered guests, the harpsichordist switched tunes to pluck the melody of O Perfect Love. Veil concealing her face, Ariel stepped into the room as all heads turned to watch her make her way toward Cray. Ariel carried a large bouquet of white roses with ribbons cascading to the floor. Her pale pink dress accentuated her tiny waist, then billowed out to fall in shimmering waves to the toes of her pink 249
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slippers. The bodice cut low over her breasts, allowing a good portion of cleavage to spill above the neckline. Cray’s groin tightened, finding him wanting to skip the formalities all together and carry her upstairs to his chambers and make her his wife once and for all. Damn, if he didn’t think he could wait until after the vows, let alone the festivities afterward. Ariel finally made it to his side where Henry placed her hand into Cray’s. His palm perspiring, he grasped her tiny hand firmly within his, then as one, they turned to face the reverend. The minister opened his book, then looked up at the two of them. “Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today to witness the union…” Craylen found himself whirled in the space of time as the reverend read passages from the Bible, barely able to keep his preoccupied thoughts on the Lord’s words spilling from the minister’s lips until he heard his name spoken. “Craylen Wayne Rollins III, will you have this woman to be your wife, to live with her in holy marriage according to the Word of God? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her in sickness and in health and, forsaking all others, be husband to her as long as you both shall live? If so, then answer I will.” “I will,” Cray mumbled with little thought as he looked into the eyes shielded by the thin veil of the woman whom he had just promised himself to until death. There would be no room for regrets between them from this day on. The minister turned to Cray’s intended and said, “Ariel Marie Montgomery, will you have this man to be your husband, to live with him in holy marriage according to the Word of God? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him, obey him, and keep him in sickness and in health and forsaking all others, be wife to him as long as you both shall live? If so, then answer I will.” Ariel gazed at Cray. Even through the veil, Cray could see the shimmer of tears glistening in her eyes. A small amount of panic seized 250
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his heart. Why had she paused in her answer? What if she had actually changed her mind about marrying him? Finally, squaring her shoulders, she spoke with confidence, “I will.” “Craylen, take the right hand of your bride and repeat the vows I have given you,” the minister instructed. Cray’s eyes moistened as he raised her veil, then took her right hand in his. “I, Craylen Rollins, in the presence of God and these witnesses, take you, Ariel Montgomery, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death parts us, and I pledge you my faithfulness.” The minister glanced at Ariel. Her hand trembled in Cray’s as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. “I, Ariel Montgomery, in the presence of God and these witnesses, take you, Craylen Rollins, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death parts us, and I pledge you my faithfulness.” The minister took the offered ring from Matt, handing it to Cray. Cray’s fingers shook as he slipped it on Ariel’s third finger, then said, “Receive this ring as a pledge and token of wedded love and faithfulness.” Placing the Bible on the stand next to him, the reverend raised his hands above his head and said, “Grant your blessing, O Lord, to your servants Craylen and Ariel that they may be ever mindful of their solemn pledge and, in trusting in your mercy, abound evermore in love all their days; through Jesus Christ, our Lord—” Everyone joined in unison, “Amen.” Then the reverend finished with, “May I introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Craylen Wayne Rollins III.” Cray grasped Ariel’s hand and together faced their gathering family. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Craylen, you may kiss your bride.” Cray gathered Ariel into his embrace, gazing into her love-filled 251
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eyes. Why had he not seen it before? Ariel Montgomery had looked upon him in the same fashion many a times before. But it took her announcement last night for him to read what was clearly written there. Without a word, he lowered his head and took her lips, pulling her tightly against his hard frame. A fierce sense of possession like never before seeped through his body. Her arms encircled his neck as his tongue slipped past her lips and claimed her mouth. Soon, he thought, in the same fashion, his body would become one with hers. The cheers and well wishes from the family kept him from deepening the kiss as he wished to. Releasing her mouth, but not his hold on her, he smiled at those gathering around. Matt slapped him on the shoulder and placed a glass of champagne in his free hand before giving Ariel one of her own. Waiting until all the guests had been served, he raised his glass toward the ceiling and said, “Craylen once saved my life. Since then, he has become my friend, my brother. We have served side-by-side, first in war, and now as friends. May what was joined today, become his blessing tomorrow and every day after that. May your life with Ariel be every joy you deserve.” The family members and friends raised their glasses in unison and toasted the happy couple as together, Craylen and Ariel drank from their champagne. The doors to the back parlor were thrown open to reveal a white decorated three-tier cake and other sweets. Bottles of champagne graced the clothed covered table beside warmed brandy and bottles of bourbon. A feast of turkey, roasted pheasant, and prime rib decorated the side table along with foods from the sea: oysters, lobsters, and shrimp. Potatoes scalloped, boiled, and herbs were set along side varieties of vegetables, fresh baked bread and muffins. Food for every palate. Craylen had spared no expense. This was one festivity never to be shared again. He watched from the side of the parlor as Ariel giggled 252
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and conversed with the guests occupying the room. Minutes turned into hours. Never had he seen her more happy…or more beautiful. Ariel Montgomery was now his bride…his wife. Mrs. Craylen Rollins III. No one was worthier to share his name. A feeling of contentment eased through him, even helped him forget his earlier found troubles, though Adelaine still graced his home. Soon enough she would return north and out of their lives. Ariel giggled as she made her way to him. The crooked smile on her face told Cray she was slightly tipsy from the champagne. He held his glass up to her. Ariel returned the gesture as she stopped in front of him. “You’re having a good time?” Cray asked, already knowing the answer clearly written within her gaze. “The best.” Ariel smiled, dreamily. If she continued to look at him through eyes of glazed passion, he would scoop her into his arms and carry her to his chamber this minute, devil may care. “And you?” “I could think of better things to be doing at the moment.” Cray grinned with one side of his mouth. “But for now, yes, I’m having a wonderful time watching you, sweetness.” Ariel tipped the glass to her lips, finishing the last of the bubbling liquid. Her lips were moist when she took away the glass and ran her tongue over the satiny flesh. Cray’s pulse quickened, sending the heated blood straight to his loins. If he didn’t stop his rolling thoughts, they would find themselves in his room much quicker than he had planned. Cray had wanted Ariel to enjoy her day, to revel in their wedding, before retreating to his chambers and sealing their union forever. He lowered his head and placed a light kiss atop her lips, tasting the champagne left there. Ariel rewarded him with a smile as she leaned into him, her eyelids heavy. “You are so beautiful,” she said as she gazed into his eyes. Cray chuckled. “I think that’s what I’m supposed to be telling you, 253
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sweetness, not the other way around.” “But you are…to me. How did I get so lucky?” “Fate?” “I don’t know.” Ariel narrowed her eyes and peered past his shoulder, though nothing more than the stone of the mantel rested behind him. “Maybe God thought it was time for me to finally find happiness. Are you happy, Cray?” she asked looking back at him. Had her expression not been so serious, he would have chuckled at her sudden found philosophy. “Yes, sweetness, I am truly happy. You have made me a very contented man.” Cray leaned toward her ear and whispered, “Finish your champagne and I’ll show you just how much.” Ariel’s eyes turned up on the corners as her smile grew more seductive. Just as he thought she might agree, she held up her empty glass and said, “One more?” Hell, he had waited this long, what could one more glass hurt. “Yes, you can have another. But after that, it’s time to bid our family farewell for the night and retreat to my chambers.” Cray raised an eyebrow. “Is it a deal?” Ariel giggled as she turned on her heel in search of another bottle of champagne. She had definitely already had one glass too many. Her hips swayed saucily, taunting his already heavy arousal. Better be a damn quick glass, he thought, as he shifted his stance by the hearth. As quickly as she retreated, Ariel returned with a full bottle in hand and two empty glasses. Her smile grew as her walk became more seductive. Cray’s heartbeat in his throat as all his limbs numbed. “Care to join me for a glass upstairs, Mr. Rollins?” Ariel asked in a hushed tone. Cray pushed himself from the mantel and looked down upon her. Damned if he didn’t want to take her right here. “You retire to my chambers, Mrs. Rollins, and I’ll make our excuses. No need to ask me twice.” “Don’t take too long, Mr. Rollins, should I happen to fall asleep,” 254
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she said over her shoulder as she made her way out of the room full of guests. “You won’t get the chance, sweetness. Not this night,” he said after her, watching her disappear from his sight. Cray searched the room, finding his trusted groomsman. Excusing himself past the well-wishers and family as each shook his hand and bid him farewell, Cray made his way over to Matt who stood beside Henry, laughing at probably another of Henry’s yet to be found pranks, no doubt. Cheri and Ryder Storm mingled with the guests, but Cray noted the tired look on her face as he was about to pass them. Joey had been put to bed hours ago. “Mrs. Storm…Cheri,” Cray acknowledged on his way by. “Should you feel the need to retire, all will understand, I assure you.” “I think that’s a wise idea, darlin’,” Ryder agreed. Then to Cray, he said, “Mighty fine party. But if you’ll excuse us, I think I’ll take Cheri on upstairs so she can get her rest.” “Ariel’s already taken her leave and I’m about to join her. Should you need anything during the night, Edward is always on call. Just ring the pull bell by the entrance.” “Thank you, Cray,” Cheri said, a hand resting in the small of her back. “But I’m sure we won’t be needing anything. Goodnight. We’ll see you come morning.” “Not too early, I hope,” Ryder added with a chuckle. “Not before the noon hour anyway.” Cray smiled. As he made his way past the Storms, he saw Adelaine sitting in a wing chair by the other fireplace, studying a piece of paper in her hand. Too busy with his own thoughts to care and in too big of a hurry to join his wife, he ignored Ariel’s mother and continued on his way over to Matt. Hell, the sooner he got on with this, the sooner he would lie between his wife’s silky thighs. * * * 255
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Adelaine read the note over again in her hand. She didn’t recognize the flawless penmanship, but nonetheless, the author of the piece seemed adamant that they meet. Adelaine, urgent that I see you. Please convene with me in the hothouse immediately. Must speak to you about an urgent matter. Do not dally, this matter can not be left unresolved. Adelaine searched the room, looking for the guest who had already left the celebration. Ariel had departed moments ago, champagne bottle in hand. Surely, the note hadn’t come from her. Of course, she would have recognized her own daughter’s penmanship. Clifford and his protégé stood to the side of the room as they had all night, not mingling much with the other guests, conversing amongst themselves. Cheri and Ryder Storm were on their way out of the parlor, no doubt in search of rest. No reason either of them might want to meet with her. She doubted the outlaw could spell, let alone write in such a flawless manner. Tabitha and C.W. entertained a few guests she didn’t know, probably friends or relatives. The groomsman and Craylen’s youngest brother stood by the side table laughing over some unknown joke. Neither would have cause to speak with her. Craylen made his way over to the groomsman, obviously ready to make his own hasty retreat and follow his blushing bride to his chambers. Her plan couldn’t have gone off better. Ariel and Craylen truly seemed happy. The hell with the McCabe boy. But this… Adelaine looked back to the note and reread it. This had come from nowhere. She had sat in her seat most of the night, alone, paying little attention to the conversations traveling about the room. When she had looked to the toes of her boots, there, she saw this white piece of paper neatly folded. Sometime along the course of the evening, someone had nonchalantly dropped it at her feet, she being unaware. There being only one way to find the author of the note, Adelaine rose to her feet and excused herself. She walked to the kitchen and out 256
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the back door of the house, throwing a scarf and wrap about her shoulders. Who on earth would drag her away from her daughter’s levee and into the cold of the night?
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CHAPTER 28
“You look exquisite, Mistress,” Tina gushed. “Certainly, Mr. Rollins will be beside himself when he first looks upon you.” Tina had helped Ariel change into the peignoir she purchased just for this night. The white satin left little to the imagination as Ariel stood in front of the looking glass, admiring the new, nearly sheer garment. Her blonde hair fell about her waist, appearing paler than usual due to the pristine color of the negligee. The thin straps held the bodice in place, which barely covered her breasts, traveling down her shoulders to hold up the back of the gown. The silky fabric shimmered to the floor in soft waves, concealing her bare feet. Ariel turned to her maid, who stood behind her, and gave Tina a quick hug. “Thank you for all you have done.” “It is my job, Mistress.” “You have been more than a maid to me, Tina. You have been my friend.” Ariel glanced over her maid’s shoulder to the large bed where the corner of the covers had been turned down. “But now, I fear it’s 258
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time for me to be alone with my husband.” “Don’t be frightened. What a man and his wife share can be a beautiful thing…and pleasing, too,” Tina added with a grin. “I hope you’re right for I’d hate to think I’d have to suffer a detestable touch for the rest of my life.” “With a man as handsome as Mr. Rollins, I doubt you’ll suffer at all.” Tina took hold of Ariel’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “I better go before Mr. Rollins comes in expecting to see his bride, only to find me within his chambers as well.” Ariel watched as Tina made a quick exit, leaving her alone with the bottle of champagne and two glasses. What on earth had she been thinking? Obviously, the champagne had clouded her judgment to hurry Craylen along upstairs. Now, behind closed doors, she was left with nothing but her nervousness and worries of the night to come. She had no choice. She had to tell Craylen the truth. * * * The aroma of flowers filled the silent hothouse as Adelaine stood in the building, obviously alone. Who had summoned her? And why make her wait? Minutes had passed since leaving the house with not a soul about. She patted and smoothed the side of her hair, attempting to calm her frazzled nerves. Normally, Adelaine wasn’t one to get herself worked up, but something about the night raised the hairs on her arm. She paced the small confines of the heated glass house, hoping to work off the feverishness. This was nonsense, nothing more. Whoever had called her to this meeting probably wanted to scare her into leaving the estate, once and for all. Well, of course, the joke was on them. Adelaine had packed her trunks and was ready for departure come morning. Her job here had been completed. Her daughter was securely married to one of New Jersey’s richest men, and had her to thank for it. She, on the other hand, would be set for life. If she ever felt the need for something out of her reach, she need only wire her daughter, 259
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and soon, money would be rolling in like never before. After all, a woman of her stature would require quite a sum to live on. And with the death of Charles, her poor departed husband, she would be in the need of funds to continue living the life she led before his demise. Not that she missed the passing of the bastard—and that he was—rather she desired the lavish gifts he bestowed upon her. Now the job belonged to Ariel. After all, had it not been for her, Ariel and Craylen would have never met. Someday, Craylen, too, would see the value of her involvement and loosen his purse strings to her. Certainly she deserved his money more so than her daughter did. Adelaine walked to the window and wiped away the dew gathering there, peering into the cold night. A light dusting of snow blew about the grounds but not a soul could be found. Lights from the parlor spilled onto the untouched ground covering. The only footprints visible to her were her own. The wind whistled through the building, causing Adelaine to shiver as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. She pulled the scarf more securely about her. Just the wind and nothing more. * * * “Sorry, my good man,” Craylen shook the hand of Matt Gilson. “But I have something I must attend to. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll call it a good night.” “I need to see to your dens anyway since you won’t likely be around for awhile.” He chuckled. “I hate to leave so early, but some things are better off done yourself.” “Well, someday I’ll have to repay the favor should you ever decide to take your own self off the market.” Matt scoffed at the notion. “Not likely.” He slapped Clay on the back of the shoulder. “Congratulations, old man.” “Old man? You are but two years my junior. I vow it won’t be long before you follow in my footsteps.” “A cold day in hell, Craylen Rollins. I’m not in too much of a hurry to follow you down the aisle.” 260
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“You were sure glad enough to get me there, though.” “Of course, you fool. With you out of the game, it leaves more women for me.” Matt grasped Cray’s hand and shook it, then exited the room. Cray turned his attention to his younger brother. “Well, Henry, I do believe it is time to say good-night.” “Ariel awaits. You are one lucky man.” “You don’t need to tell me that. Keep watch on the festivities and don’t let things get out of hand.” “And you are trusting me to do this?” “I figure since you, too, will be living beneath my roof, you’ll treasure my home as I do.” Henry’s eyes widened. “You mean it? I can stay?” “For as long as you keep out of my way and the pranks you are so popular for come to an end. Besides, I fear my wife has become quite fond of you.” Cray chuckled, slapping Henry’s broad shoulder. “If I toss you out, she’s liable to throw me out right behind you.” Henry’s grin beamed from his youthful face. “You won’t even know I’m around.” Knowing his brother would do his best to hold true to his word, Cray turned on his heel and headed from the room. Someone awaited him. * * * Ariel slipped beneath the crisp covers of Craylen’s bed, pulling them up about her breasts. The wind rattled the windows, causing a shiver to travel up her spine. She found herself in a sudden hurry to have her husband join her. In the comforts of her own room, her own small bed, she felt safe, secure. But here, on Craylen’s big feather mattress, twice the size of her own, she felt severely alone, not to mention a slight bit of trepidation. A door below sounded loudly as someone exited the back of the house, being slammed shut by the wind. Ariel jumped, then giggled 261
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from her own increasing anxiety. She rubbed her hands down her arm to smooth away the gooseflesh popping out across the surface, certainly not caused from the cold. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, adding its warmth to the room. She brushed it off to nothing more than wedding night nerves. Turning to the bedside table, Ariel picked up the bottle of champagne and promptly poured herself a glass. She tipped the bubbly liquid to her trembling lips and took a long pull from the glass, nearly emptying it in one swallow. Dear God in heaven, how was she ever to survive this night? She was already nervous enough. How would she react once Craylen entered the room and her secrets no longer could be concealed? The wind blew at the window again, rattling the panes of glass. Ariel suddenly felt a need for more light than the simple orange glow of the fire and the turned-down lamp residing on the wall next to the door. She stepped from the bed, ran to the gas lantern, and turned up the light to full glow. Yellowness spilled across the shadows of the night, lending itself to all the dark corners of the room. Then as quickly as she exited it, she returned to bed and brought the covers back up about her shoulders. What on God’s earth was taking Craylen so long to make their excuses? Was he not anxious to take her as his wife? The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she heard a low howl coming from the wind slipping through the cracks of the window. Her shoulders trembled as she straightened her spine. What a coward she was, it being the wind and nothing more. * * * The toes on her feet were beginning to feel pinched as Adelaine continued to pace the graveled path in the hothouse. She held a bit of skirt in each hand, trying to keep the edge of her expensive gown from being soiled. The more she was made to wait, the more agitated she became. Who in their right mind would call a lady to the hothouse in 262
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the dark of night and then leave her standing with nothing more than her own fears to entertain herself? God, she was pitiful. Moments ago, a door had slammed to the back of the house, nearly sending her from her own skin. Had she not expected someone to come? But minutes later, she still stood nerve-wracking alone with nothing but the silence of the night and the howling of the wind to satisfy her aloneness. With a deep breath, she headed for the window facing the back of the estate again, wiping the condensation from the glass. The wind blew the snow, blocking some of her visibility, but much looked the same as before. Her gaze traveled the ground until it locked on her footprints. Now, not only did she see one set of prints leaving the back of the house, but two. Side by side hers, until they veered off on their own. While hers led straight to the door of the hothouse, the second set traveled to the edge of the building, leading to the back. A shiver ran up her spine. Did she remember seeing a second entrance? The light in the building was almost nonexistent. A small lantern burned in the center, leaving all corners cloaked in darkness. Adelaine heard the squeak of hinges. She grasped her skirt more tightly within her fists. “Hello?” No answer came. She placed one foot in front of her, slowly inching her way to the other end of the building. One foot, then the next. The door slammed off the backside of the house. Adelaine squealed. She wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction, but something kept her inching toward the rear of the building. Call it curiosity, but she had to know. She was no coward. As she reached the far side, the door slammed against the outside wall again. Thankfully, she had had the insight to use the privy earlier, or certainly she would have wet herself here in the dark. Fear clawed its way up her spine as she peered into the blackness. No light gave its way to this side of the building. The wind blew into the heated room, wrapping its icy fingers 263
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around her. Adelaine pulled her cloak more closely about. Nothing. No need to panic, nothing to fear. The wind had simply blew open the door. How pathetic she must appear. She laughed at her own childishness until she looked down. White footprints littered the floor. * * * Ariel stifled a yawn behind her hand. Short moments felt like hours, but the champagne was beginning to take its effect. Certainly, if Craylen didn’t make his way to his room soon, he would find himself a sleeping bride curled up in the center of his bed. She had finished off the bottle of bubbly liquid in attempts to calm her frazzled nerves and her fears of telling Craylen the truth about her past. Now, with the fuzziness of alcohol clouding her brain, she cared little if she told her husband at all. Of course, he was likely to notice the absence of her virtue, but if she took him far enough into the throes of passion, he wouldn’t care much past the heat of the moment and this topic could be better put off until morning when her head was much clearer. She sighed as she snuggled more deeply within the quilts and laid her tired head upon the mattress. Surely, a few minutes of shuteye wouldn’t hurt anyone. Craylen would soon be along and wake her for their blessed night. She already knew what magic his fingers could work, what exquisite torture his mouth could do. She closed her eyes and pictured the man downstairs gloriously naked. A door suddenly slammed outside, causing Ariel to bolt upright once again. Where was all the noise coming from? The haze of the champagne quickly fled her brain as she felt suddenly alert and keen to every noise outside the house. Someone was out there, of this she was certain. Ariel brought her knees to her chest and hugged them. Where in the world was Craylen? If she had ever felt the need to be wrapped within 264
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his embrace, it was this very minute. A whimper escaped her throat. She wouldn’t cry, she promised herself. She had lived here for over two months and not once had she cause to be afraid. Apprehension slithered its way up her spine. Something was very wrong. * * * “Oh, my!” Adelaine squealed as she turned on her heel, practically running into another’s chest. “My, God, you nearly scared me to death.” “Would have been a pity,” the voice rang. “And what would you care?” Adelaine huffed as she attempted to make her way around the individual. “What on earth are you doing out here anyway? You’d best return from where you came before someone catches you with me. Now out of my way. I am meeting with someone.” “Not this night you won’t.” “And what do you mean by that? Go away before you make a dreadful pest of yourself,” Adelaine spat as she turned to make a hasty retreat. “I’ll go away when my job here is done,” the voice challenged, grasping her shoulders tightly within strong hands. “Unhand me,” Adelaine ordered, her voice cracking, giving way to her nervousness, as she looked back over her shoulder. The threatening cloaked figure tilted its head back and roared in laughter, mocking her, then looked back to her, narrowing its eyes until no more than slits could be seen. “And what could you do to me?” But before Adelaine could emit even a sound, the hands slid from her shoulders to the scarf around her neck and eased the ties slowly away from her until the center left surrounding her throat squeezed gently. Her eyes widened when she realized the intent. Not another sound was made as her eyes closed and the pressure on 265
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her windpipe increased. She gasped for air. Her hands clawed for skin, her skin, attempting to loosen the scarf. Panic seized her. Blackness enveloped her and she slid to the floor, desperately seeking another life-giving breath. Total darkness consumed her without allowing her another conscious thought. * * * Footsteps sounded outside the balcony door. Ariel scrambled quickly up to the headboard of the bed. Fear clutched her voice, not allowing her to emit even a sound as she watched the shadow move past the lace curtains outside the door. Someone was moving about in the cold wind, thinking to gain entrance to her chamber. Her hand searched out blindly, as her eyes remained locked on the door. Her fingers moved about the stand until they wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Ariel brought the cold glass to her chest as her body trembled violently. My God, but this was her wedding night. Evil lurked beyond the door and she was sure with the laughter and gaiety downstairs, no one would hear her scream had she even found her voice. Slowly, the doors pushed in. Ariel cursed herself for not having the insight to check all the locks before making her way to the bed. She pulled the quilt tightly about her neck with her freehand and waited as the intruder stepped into the room. Thank the good Lord she had raised the light to the room. As the figure stepped past the door way and shook off the snow, Ariel recognized the dark intruder and lessened her hold on the bottle. “My God, what are you doing here?” Ariel squealed. “Craylen is due to come up here any minute. If he finds you here—” “He won’t,” the man laughed. “Because you’re coming with me.” Ariel’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. I can’t go any where with you. Craylen is now my husband.” “Oh, I’m serious all right.” His eyes tinged with evil, pulling a long 266
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thin knife from beneath his heavy coat. “You are going with me.” “I’ll scream,” she said as he approached. “I won’t go with you. My God, this is my wedding night. You can’t come in here and take me away.” Tanner stood above the bed, glaring at her. She knew he was angry with her, but before she could utter another word or even emit a sound, he grasped the bottle from her slackened hands and struck her over the head. Blackness drifted around her, consuming her until she fell to an unconscious heap atop the bed. * * * “What is it?” Cray asked as a hand reached out, stopping him from ascending the stairs. “I need a moment of your time,” Edward said, letting go of his employer’s sleeve. “Well, do hurry on with it. I have someone waiting on me,” Cray bit, clearly agitated from the hold up. “Something is amiss, and I think the matter needs your attention.” The look of worry in Edward’s eyes sent Cray back down the few stairs he had taken. The stiff older butler usually never let anything bother him. Something truly must be wrong to ruffle his normally unmovable feathers. “Hopefully, this won’t take more than a moment of my time,” Cray grumbled. “You know, sir, today of all days, I wouldn’t disturb you unless I thought it absolutely necessary.” Cray released the deep breath he held. “Lead on, Edward.”
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CHAPTER 29
“Good Lord in heaven,” Cray grumbled as he entered the back of his estate, raking both hands through his disheveled hair. Not looking back at Edward who had followed him in the door, he continued, “What on earth do I tell Ariel?” How would he ever tell his newly wed wife, her mother was strangled just moments ago—and on their wedding night of all nights? Damn, Cray thought, as he ran his hand down his face. He began pacing the foyer as sounds of the continuing festivities drifted out from the parlor. Clearly, everyone inside was oblivious of what had just occurred beyond the doors of his estate in the hothouse behind. Cray had studied the footprints in the snow, which were rapidly disappearing due to the gusts of wind. It seemed two sets led from the back of his house in the direction of the glass building with only one returning while yet another pair came from around the side of the house. To where he couldn’t tell; the wind had completely destroyed any more evidence. 268
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The murderer was either a guest in his house or someone else altogether. Cray whirled on his heel and glared at Edward. “I’ve put this off long enough. Don’t allow anyone to leave. First, I’ll wake the Marshal, then I’ll apprise Ariel of the situation. When I’m finished, I’ll come downstairs to speak with the remaining guests.” “Yes, sir.” Edward gave a curt nod, then headed for the parlor to keep an eye on the well-wishers. Cray took the winding stairs two at a time until he reached the first door on the second floor. He rapped solidly on the wooden surface. It soon opened and a bare-chested Ryder peered at him from the other side. Ryder ran a hand over his slightly whiskered jaw. “What can I do for you, Cray?” “There’s a slight problem. Hell,” Cray chuckled nervously, “damn big problem. I don’t mean to wake you or Cheri, but there’s been a murder.” Ryder’s brows drew together, forming a deep frown above the bridge of his nose. “A what?” Ryder’s voice was so calm, Cray doubted he got excited about anything. Ryder stepped through the opened door, then closed it quietly behind him. Cray paced the carpet runner in the hall, unable to stand stationary as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Edward stopped me before I retired upstairs to my bride. He said he had heard something outside, so I followed him out to the hothouse. And there she was, Adelaine Montgomery, with a red scarf wrapped tightly around her throat. Dead.” Ryder looked at Cray carefully through narrowed eyes, then finally said, “Have you told Ariel?” “Not yet. How the hell am I suppose to do that?” Cray clenched his teeth. The ache traveling up his jaw and ended with a ringing in his ears. 269
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“Very gently. You go and tell your wife, and I’ll meet you downstairs after I get dressed.” Cray didn’t wait for Ryder to re-enter his room. He headed for the last door on the right. A sense of foreboding slithered its way up his spine. Something was amiss and it wasn’t due to the fact Adelaine lay dead some five hundred feet away. He shook off the feeling as nothing more than dread of telling Ariel about her mother. Stopping outside the door, he placed his forehead against the cool surface and drew in a deep breath before he turned the knob. A blast of brisk air hit him in the face as he entered the room, nearly stealing his breath. Cray’s gaze darted about, finding his large bed empty with the covers laying in disarray and an empty bottle of champagne discarded carelessly in the center. The double doors leading to the balcony were open, allowing gusts of cold wind and snow to breeze into the room. He quickly crossed the carpeted floor, ready to scold Ariel for wanting to catch her death, to stand outside on a night such as this. But all he found were footprints in the snow. Terror seized his heart like a fist clenched tightly around it, nearly choking his life from his chest. He spun around and went back into his room, crossing the distance to the door adjoining his with hers in record time. Cray swung open the door, sending it bouncing off the inside wall. “Ariel?” he called out, receiving only silence as an answer. Terror quickly gave way to hysteria as his heart beat erratically within the walls of his ribs. Cray returned to the balcony off of his room, noting the footprints he saw earlier were not small like that of his wife’s, but large, more like a man’s. Stepping over to the banister, Cray found a rope linked over the rail with a sheet tied to the end as though someone had lowered something from his room—possibly his wife. Cray knew in that minute, without a doubt, someone had taken Ariel. He ran from his chambers and down the stairs, finding Ryder waiting at the bottom. He had changed into buckskin pants, boots, and 270
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an overcoat trimmed in fur, which lay open, exposing a buckskin shirt beneath. “Whoa, there partner. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Adelaine ain’t goin’ nowhere too soon. Where’s the rush?” “My wife,” Cray released the breath he held, “she’s gone. Someone has taken her. What the hell else can go wrong? First, I find Ariel’s mother murdered and now someone has kidnapped my wife.” A gasp came from the top of the stairway. Cray and Ryder looked up to find Cheri peering down on them, a look of horror written across her face. One hand rested on the banister for support while the other lay upon her stomach in a protective gesture. “Now don’t go wakin’ snakes, darlin’. You get yourself back to bed,” Ryder told her in a tone meant to calm her. Cray saw the concern Ryder held for his wife evident in his eyes. “I’ll do no such thing,” Cheri replied as she began descending the stairs. “Did I hear the two of you right? My sister is missing and someone has killed Adelaine?” “You heard right, darlin’, but there ain’t a thing you can do about it. Get yourself back up them stairs and back to bed. I’ll tell you all about it come mornin’.” “I’ll do no such thing.” Cheri reached the bottom of the steps and stared defiantly into her husband’s eyes, hands in the hollow of her back. Ryder shook his head, turned on his heel, and mumbled as he headed for the back door of the house, “Only a fool argues with a skunk.” “Ryder Storm!” Cheri waddled after him and Cray fell quickly into step behind her. “Don’t you walk away from me!” Ryder turned just before the door and narrowed his eyes at the petite woman. “Damn it, darlin’, I got a job to do. Now you saunter your pretty little backside up those stairs and I’ll come in and tell you 271
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everthin’ I know when I’m finished.” “Then I’ll wait in the parlor with the rest of the guests.” “I have to agree with Ryder, Cheri. Maybe it’s better if you wait upstairs,” Cray said as he shrugged his arms into the sleeves of his coat. Cheri crossed her arms over her large stomach and tapped her toe, reminding him sorely of Ariel’s own stubbornness. “How would you two know what’s better for me. I’m the one carrying a fifty-pound baby.” Cray opened his mouth to reply but Ryder stopped him. “Give it up, Cray. You won’t change her mind any. When she sets it to somethin’, she can be harder’n tyin’ down a bobcat with a piece of string.” Then Ryder walked out the back of the house, leaving Cray to tend with his stubborn wife. Not knowing what else to do, Cray turned to Cheri. “Don’t tell the others anything just yet,” then followed Ryder out to the hothouse. Moments later, Cray and Ryder stood in the middle of the building looking down on the lifeless body of Adelaine Montgomery. Her once pale face had a bluish cast to it as her sightless eyes stared wide in horror. Ryder knelt beside the body on one knee and checked for a pulse. “Don’t need no doctor to tell me she’s dead as a can of corned beef.” He ran his fingers over Adelaine’s eyes and closed her lids, then stood back up. “I’ll ride into town and get the local sheriff out here. But first, let’s take a look by your porch, see if any clues come up.” Cray led Ryder over to the spot below the balcony from his room. The wind cut through his outerwear, though he felt little of the chill. His body was numb. His wife was gone. And if he didn’t find her, his life would be over. Ryder examined the sheet lying atop the snow, attached to the rope leading to the baluster. He pulled a long silver-blond hair from the knot on the sheet. “Looks like you’re right, Cray,” Ryder said as he handed the small 272
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offering to him. Cray grasped the single hair tightly in his fist. “Who the hell would want to take my wife?” “I don’t know, but I aim to find out.” Just as Ryder turned to leave, his gaze stopped on the rope, blowing in the breeze. Cray’s eyes followed. There, floating in the wind, entwined in the harsh thickness of the rope, was a few strands of long black hair. Ryder pulled them from their confines. “These belong to anyone you might know?” “McCabe,” Cray said quietly, stunned. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before? Tanner McCabe stole my wife and more than likely murdered Adelaine. Who else would have motivation to want her dead? Adelaine took from him what he wanted most in life—Ariel—and gave her to me.” * * * Cray stood in the doorway of the parlor unnoticed. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the festivities he himself had found joy in moments ago. His mother and father talked quietly in the corner of the room. C.W. would place a loving hand on her cheek, smile warmly at her, then Tabitha would return his smile with a look she bestowed only on her husband. Cray might have found it in himself to smile at the warm scene had he not been so miserable himself. Ariel had been taken from him before he ever got the chance to tell her he loved her. Had he the foresight, he would have marched into her room the previous night following her own profession and shown her exactly how much he returned her feelings. But damn, here he was, on his wedding night, fearing he might not ever find his love again. Not once, but twice, having his heart ripped from his chest. If anything happened to Ariel, Cray would never find it in his heart to love again. His gaze moved to Clifford, who sat in front of the roaring blaze with his friend, Davon, enjoying a glass of champagne together. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t feel the same sense of warmth when Davon looked upon Clifford in a similar manner that his mother had 273
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looked upon his father moments ago. Glancing at Cheri, Cray noticed she sat nervously wringing the fabric of her gown through her tightly fisted hands while a few other guests milled about, sipping brandy or champagne, conversing amongst themselves. Had it not been for Cheri’s nervous appearance, nothing would appear amiss. Finally, Cray cleared his throat to gather everyone’s attention, and stepped into the room. When all conversation died down and all eyes looked upon him, Cray began, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news on such an occasion as this, but there has been a murder.” His gaze traveled the room, wondering if a murderer was amongst them and not Tanner after all. Mouths were aghast, eyes were rounded, no one appeared detached, so Cray continued, “Adelaine Montgomery was killed moments ago, outside in the hothouse.” Tabitha stood, a hand to her breast. “My good heavens. Have you told Ariel? She’s probably distraught.” “I wouldn’t know, Mother.” Cray, again, scanned the room of guests. “Ariel seems to be missing also.” Tabitha gasped, looking at C.W. as though she expected him to perform a miracle and produce the lost daughter-in-law. “Dear God, what on earth has happened here? Who would want to take Ariel?” Cray’s gaze traveled to Cheri who looked at him intently as he recalled Ariel’s and his conversation of the night before. He suddenly wondered how Cheri would take the news of her rapist kidnapping her sister. “I have an idea,” Cray said. “Do you think it’s possible the same person also killed Adelaine?” Clifford spoke up. “It certainly is a big possibility.” Cheri rose from her seat and walked over to Cray, looking him boldly in the eye. “Has Ryder gone after the person? If so, he’ll find Ariel. He’s good at what he does.” 274
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“I’m sure he is, but right now he went to retrieve the local law.” Cray placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Cray could clearly see what a rough man like Ryder Storm would find in a gentle but stubborn woman like Cheri. Her eyes were warm and caring. “Please, Mrs. Storm, have a seat.” Cheri ignored his plea and held her ground, placing a hand in the center of her back and shifting her stance. “You said you have an idea of who the person is.” “I do, and I plan on going after him before it’s too late. Now if all of you would stay here until the Marshal returns…” “Cray?” Cheri looked at him, narrowing his eyes. “Who took my sister?” “I have every reason to believe it was Tanner McCabe.” Cray heard her sharp intake of air as she stumbled backwards. He quickly grasped her shoulders, steadying her, and led her over to the nearest chair. “Don’t worry, Cheri, I’ll get her back.” A tear pooled in her brown eyes, slipping past her lashes and down her cheek. “You don’t understand, Cray. This man, he’s capable of…he…” Cray laid a hand on her shoulder. “Ariel told me, Cheri. I know perfectly well what he’s capable of. If he lays one finger on my wife, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” “Oh…not now,” Cheri cried out, grasping her stomach. “Ahh.” She screamed in pain. “Don’t tell me…damn, what else can possibly go wrong? Mother!” Cray yelled over his shoulder. Tabitha was quickly at his side. Cheri’s face scrunched in pain as she bit into her lower lip. Holding tightly to her expanded abdomen, beads of sweat popped out across her forehead and her breath came in short pants. Cray turned to his mother. “What do we do?” “You go find your wife, Craylen.” Then to Cheri, wiping the sweat 275
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from her brow, she said, “Don’t panic, dear. One of my servants was a midwife. She delivered all of my children then stayed with us and became a nanny to them. She has been with us ever since.” Tabitha turned to her husband. “C.W., go get Carmen.” Then, she returned her attention to Cray. “Carry her upstairs, dear, then be on your way. Time’s wasting and your dear Ariel might not have much of it. If he’s the same person who murdered Adelaine, then it’s hard telling what he might do to your wife.” Moments later, Craylen rode out of the stables on his saddled stallion. He hadn’t ridden horseback in sometime, but he couldn’t allow a carriage to slow him down. What if his mother had been right and Tanner harmed Ariel? Dear God, let her be safe. If his intuitions were right, Cray knew where to look for his wife and Tanner. Owen McCabe had docked his boat close to The Silver Dollar. Hopefully, Tanner would have nowhere else to go. Time. Cray had little of it before Ariel and her captor would likely set out to sea. Weather such as this would doubtlessly see them both to their deaths. Cray kicked his heels into the flanks of the horse, spurring him into a swift run down the driveway, leaning into the mane. He had to reach her before it was too late. Ariel’s life might very well depend on it.
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CHAPTER 30
The icy winds rolling in from the ocean whipped Cray’s hair across his face, hampering his view. Frigid air cut through his thick outer-coat, chilling him to the bone. Whether it was from the actual cold or dread of not finding Ariel in time, he was unsure. His fingers ached as he held tightly to the reins and he could no longer feel his toes. They had numbed long ago. Cray cursed the weather as he spurred the horse on through the blinding snow, looking for a sign of Owen’s docked boat. It had to be around here somewhere. Surely, Tanner wouldn’t have had the time to set out to sea yet. With teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, he slowed the horse to a moderate gait and scanned the area. A horse and rider approached from the south. A hat sat low on the man’s head and his coat whipped about behind him as the horse trotted in Cray’s direction. Ryder Storm. He hadn’t gone for the law after all, but set out to find Tanner McCabe himself. Of course, with the knowledge of his wife’s rapist 277
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abducting her sister, Ryder would take it personally. Ryder tipped his hat back on his head with a gloved hand and looked Cray in the eye. Here Cray was near to catching his death and this man, from the hot climates of Tucson, appeared unaffected by the frigid ocean air. “Did you have any luck in finding them?” Cray asked, though he already knew the answer. “Nope.” Ryder stroked his chin and peered up the coastline before turning back to Cray. Huge white-crested waves crashed into the sandy shore. “Any ideas?” “Owen McCabe was in town a few days back. I know his boat must be docked somewhere near here. Anyone would be a fool to set sail in this weather.” “Tanner ain’t playin’ with a full deck, but I hope you’re right just the same. I’ve already scanned the coast south of here, I say we head north.” Ryder stuck his spurs into the flanks of one of Craylen’s prized stallions and headed in that direction. Cray pulled his horse along side of Ryder’s and they pushed their mounts into a swift pace. Shortly, they came upon a worn white boat rocking in the ocean. Cray felt the nausea of seasickness just watching the boat as it swayed to and fro in the wind. If Ariel was within the small craft, Cray pitied her. “That it?” Ryder asked. “That’s the one,” Cray acknowledged. Ryder reined in his horse and stared at the small craft swaying in the strong wind. His eyes narrowed as he took off his gloves and stuffed them between the saddle and blanket on the horse, then he turned his gaze on Cray. “You stay here, I’ll go it alone. Don’t know how much trouble we’ll find once we’re on board. Tanner may have a gun.” “Damn!” Craylen cursed himself for forgetting Cheri in his own trumped up emotions. Ryder turned in his saddle to face Cray, giving 278
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him a questioning look. “Hell, you shouldn’t be the one out here chasing down my wife and her captor. Cheri went into labor just before I left the house.” Ryder’s eyes widened and for the first time since Craylen had met him, he appeared to be warring with his emotions as a certain amount of panic settled across his face. “Cheri’s gonna have my baby?” “Don’t worry though, I left her in good hands. One of my mother’s servants was a mid-wife at one time.” Ryder didn’t appear as though he was assured, so Cray continued, “Head on back to the estate, I’ll take care of things here.” “Like hell you will.” Ryder masked his emotions as he pulled the Stetson low on his brow. “I say we go in there, get your wife, and get the hell out of here. I’ll take Tanner in and be back at the estate within the hour. Let’s just pray they’re on the boat. If so, I should be back plenty of time before Cheri has my daughter.” Ryder spurred his horse into action, leaving Craylen no other choice but to follow in the balls of snow kicked up from the horse’s feet. In one swift move, as though born to the saddle, Ryder reined in the stallion and jumped to his feet. He whipped his coat back off his hips and out of the way of his revolvers, telling Craylen the exact reason why he never fastened it. Ryder was already moving aboard the craft when Cray jumped from his own horse and followed in his footsteps. Why didn’t he have the foresight to change out of his tuxedo and shiny black oxfords? The smooth surface of the soles of his shoes slipped in the snow. Cray quickly regained his balance and kept from going down. He stepped onto the rocking craft and grasped the rail for support as he inched his way in the direction Ryder had taken. As he passed a porthole, he saw Ariel, tucked in an overcoat much too large for her, hugging her knees on a slight mattress with her back to the wall, her body wracked with shivers. Anger coursed through his veins, steeling his resolve. He’d see 279
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Tanner dead for daring to take what belonged to him. Cray threw back the already opened door to the small cabin, sending it splintering against the wall. He quickly descended the stairs to find Tanner with his back against the wall, hands over his head. Terror warred within his coal-black eyes as he stared down the barrels of Ryder’s revolvers. Cray glanced to Ryder who appeared to wrestle with demons of his own as his fingers twitched over the hammers of both guns. Ariel flew from the bed and into Cray’s embrace, nearly knocking him from his feet as the boat cast back and forth. His arms enveloped her but his eyes never left Ryder. “Give me a reason not to pull this trigger and save the hangman the trouble,” Ryder growled at Tanner. “You can’t think to kill me,” Tanner’s voice shook in his mounting terror. “And why the hell not? I have every reason to want you dead and every wish to see the deed done.” Ryder stood, feet slightly apart for balance, but aside from the swaying of the boat, perfectly motionless. Cray had little doubt Ryder would see the job finished and wasn’t sure if he cared. The click of the hammers echoed loudly in the small cabin as Ryder pulled them slowly back with the pads of his thumbs. “God, no!” Ariel wailed as she turned in Craylen’s embrace. “Please, I beg you, spare his life.” “So he can steal you again?” Cray roared, turning her back to face him. “By God, I should see him dead myself!” “He did nothing more than try to win my love—” “Did he touch you?” Cray interrupted, his voice trembling in his mounting anger. “No.” Ariel rubbed a small knot above her temple. “Aside from when he knocked me cold with the champagne bottle. But he didn’t mean to harm me. Tanner would never hurt me.” Cray chuckled, not feeling the humor. “He killed your mother, 280
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sweetness. You think he wouldn’t harm you to keep you away from me?” “I did no such thing!” Tanner shouted. “I admit I hated the witch, even wished her dead more than a few times. But I didn’t kill her.” “My mother’s dead?” Ariel gasped, her eyes rounded like saucers as she looked at Cray for the answer. “You’re tellin’ me you didn’t kill Adelaine tonight before you helped yourself to Ariel?” Ryder growled from behind his revolvers. He clenched his jaw, replaced the hammers, then quickly sheathed the guns in the leather holds at his side and grabbed a fistful of Tanner’s black hair at the nape of his neck, hauling him just inches from his face. “I ain’t in a charitable mood at this moment. Because of you, I ain’t at home with my wife, where I should be. If she has that baby without me there…I’ll see you pay. But for now, I’ll haul your sorry ass to the local jail and let them decide what they want to do with you.” Ryder turned and glanced at Ariel. “You alright, honey?” “Yes.” Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks. Ariel’s eyes brimmed with sadness as she stared into Cray’s. “Kidnapped…” Ariel’s hand swept the cabin indicating the situation as her lips trembled. Then she continued, “Cheri is about to have her baby? My mother has been murdered? What next, Cray?” Cray drew her deeply within his embrace and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go home, sweetness.” * * * Resting his arm across Ariel’s shoulder, Cray stepped into the parlor of his home. All conversation ceased as the remaining guests caught sight of the couple, and turned their attention on them. “As you can see, Ariel is fine,” Cray told the occupants of the room. A round of cheers sounded from those gathered. Cray noticed everyone had stayed, aside from his mother and Cheri. “But because of the earlier occurrence with Adelaine, I’m going to have to ask you to stay the night. Ryder took Tanner McCabe in for his crime against Ariel. He 281
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claims to have nothing to do with the death of Adelaine, though it remains to be seen if he is telling the truth. “So, unfortunately, Ryder wants to speak with all of you before you leave tomorrow. I’ve already spoken with Edward and he is now making preparations. I’m sorry about the inconvenience, but there is nothing I can do at this point but to follow the Marshal’s wishes.” Cray gazed at his trembling wife, who clung tightly to his side, then back at his guests. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time for me to retire with my wife.” After several long minutes later, and well wishes past, Craylen was finally alone with Ariel in his chambers. He knew he should personally see to everyone’s comfort, should check on how Cheri might be doing, but he couldn’t resist sealing himself away from the throng of people to be alone with his wife. However selfish it might be, he had waited long enough. It was time to make Ariel his and show her how much he truly loved her. Ariel, still wrapped securely within the large overcoat, stood in front of the hearth’s grate where a roaring fire blazed behind. Her gaze never left the crackling orange flames as he slowly approached, feeling the first pangs of nervousness he had felt in days. Cray wanted nothing more than to tear off her confining clothes and make sweet passionate love to her. But knowing the circumstances, he would have to take his time, allow her to mourn the loss of her mother. Should she feel the need to wait, he’d allow her the respite. * * * The flames licked at the bricks surrounding the fire as the dried wood fed them, inching their way toward the chimney. Ariel watched, detached, wishing for their freedom. Each flame stretched and teased at the wood, fueling it, allowing it to grow. All she wanted was to be as free within Craylen’s arms. To show him how much she loved him, allow him to fuel her own desire. But would she ever get past the point of panic where his touch might 282
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remind her of her father’s? A tear rolled down her cheek as Craylen came up behind her and encircled her waist with his powerful arms, making her feel secure. He held her flush against his steel frame. Never in her life had she felt more protected or cared for. If only…life was filled with if onlys. All she really wanted was to be loved, to be cherished. But she was afraid of not comparing to his previous liaisons, or satisfying him enough to keep him out of another’s bed. She knew in her heart no matter how she tried, she could never share him. She would die a thousand deaths first. Her life held too many pains from the past to add any fresh ones in the future. She had to know…would Craylen ever love her? She only hoped he was capable. Before she had the time or the courage to ask, Craylen bent his head to her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry about your mother, sweetness. It pains me to see you so tormented.” His breath was warm and enticing as it fanned across her ear. The fingers of desire stroked at her abdomen, causing a dull ache to begin at the juncture of her thighs. Ariel leaned into his warmth, his protectiveness. “I can’t cry for the loss of my mother. I know I should. It’s wrong not to feel the pain,” she said as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. Cray rested his chin on her shoulder. Ariel leaned into his warmth so their cheeks touched. “Your mother was a lot of things but loving, she wasn’t.” “But still, she was my mother. I should scream and cry for the loss. And here I was, moments ago, thinking only of myself.” Ariel tipped her face to the floor in shame. “I am the luckiest woman alive, but she has nothing for now she is dead.” “Lucky? In what way?” His voice, compassionate, sent tremors racing down her spine. Ariel wanted to turn in his embrace and have him cover her mouth with his. To draw from his strength, to nurture her passion. She stared into the orange glow, then closed her eyes against the sight, wanting 283
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nothing more than to revel in the feel of him. His arms tightened around her, his rising passion nestled against her backside. “I have you,” she whispered, barely audible. Craylen turned her within his hold and laid claim to her lips. He touched the crease of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, pleading for entrance. She opened to him and his tongue slipped in, thrusting, stroking passionately as his strings of desire pulled taut. His hands slipped to the hollow of her back, bringing her abdomen flush with his hardened desire. No more turning back. No more second thoughts. Ariel Marie Rollins was now his wife and damned be anyone who tried to separate them again. Her hands curled into his waistcoat, holding on to him so tightly, as though she were afraid to let go. Never would they be apart again. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his waiting bed, not once breaking the kiss. Cray laid Ariel gently atop the sheet, then took his mouth from hers to look upon her. He grasped the overcoat and quickly stripped her of it, only to find the flimsiest of negligees beneath. Anger warred inside him to know that Tanner had seen her dressed so. No one should look upon his wife in this fashion. No one would ever again. A sense of possession stole over him as he clenched his jaw. “Craylen?” Her question stumbled in her confusion as her eyes glazed in passion. His gaze swept over her again; the rose centers of her breasts, the blonde nest of her femininity. Damn, how it angered him to know Tanner, too, had gazed upon such a vision of perfection. She raised her hand to stroke his cheek and his gaze returned to hers. She was so near to tears. “Craylen?” she asked again on a shaken voice. “Am I not pleasing to you?” “God, no!” Craylen was shocked to think she would even question him. “You are truly the most precious thing the good Lord could have 284
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blessed me with. It is I who does not deserve you.” A tiny smile grew on her trembling lips as her hands went to his shoulders, pushing his jacket from its resting place and down his arms. “I am yours, Craylen Rollins, until death parts us. Do you not remember my vow to you?” “And I pledge you my faithfulness,” Cray repeated his own vow as he slipped his arms free of his jacket. He unfastened the cuff links at his wrists, dropping them with a small thud on the area rug. The fastens of his waistcoat and shirt quickly followed as the smile in Ariel’s eyes returned. His Ariel loved him with all of her heart. As soon as his arms were free from his clothes he brushed the stray strands of silvery hair from Ariel’s face, then placed a small kiss upon her lips. “I love you, you know,” Ariel stated as she looked at him in adoration. “I know,” Cray said as he gathered her into his embrace and kissed her soundly. No longer able to wait as his throbbing arousal continued to remind him of his need, he ran a hand down her ribs, brushing against the side of her breasts. Slowly, with all the tenderness he possessed, he gently grazed one nipple with the pad of his thumb. He felt her gasp against his mouth as his tongue continued to spar with hers, but also knew of her compliance as her back arched ever so slightly toward the palm of his hand. He encompassed her breast, testing its weight against his hand. Her nipples hardened through the silky fabric. Suddenly he wished to rid her of all confinements, to be naked as the day she was born, for only his eyes to lay claim. His fingers deftly worked the tie of the robe, pulled each arm free, then slid the thin straps from the gown she wore down her shoulders and to her waist. Ariel pulled her arms free then encircled his neck, anchoring him to her. 285
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He touched the centers of her breasts with the pad of his thumbs and her fingers grasped tightly to the hair at his nape. His mouth left hers to make a trail to her breasts. He touched the pert tip of one with his tongue, circling it, then drew it within his mouth, suckling it gently. Sweet came to mind as his hands moved down to her hips. Ariel arched from the mattress toward the sweet passion beckoning her from beyond, calling her to a place she knew nothing of. Tell him, her conscience nagged from afar. She shook off the warning as she reveled in the feel of him. The satin flesh of his mouth drawing from her breast, his hands anchoring her hips to the mattress. Her head tossed on the pillow as the ache between her thighs became near unbearable. Tell him, the tiny voice beckoned from beyond. Ariel closed her eyes and tilted her head into the pillow. No, she wanted to cry out to the voice as one of his hands left her hip to slide beneath the silky fabric of her gown still covering her femininity. His hand found the nest of curls waiting for him, pleading for him, flooding her with a heat like never before. Tell him before its too late and he never trusts you again, the voice screamed through her thoughts, sending her off the mattress and against the headboard, away from his mind-numbing touch. His eyes clouded in confusion as he looked at her trembling form. Ariel thrust her arms back into the straps of her gown and pulled it back up her body to shield her from his view, as though she could with the thinness of the material. Cray stood, his trousers low on his hips, his chest sculptured like a Greek god. How she wanted to forget it all and revel in the desire he had awakened within her. But she knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t, not until he knew the whole truth. “What is it, sweetness?” The tenderness in his voice nearly ripped her in two. What if he was disgusted by the gruesomeness of the tale? 286
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She shook her head slightly from side to side, denying the possibility. “Ariel?” he prodded as he sat back on the bed beside her, grasping her hand gently in his. “Tell me, sweetness, what haunts you?” “First you must promise me you won’t hate me.” She saw his mind working in his eyes in the way that he looked at her. Finally, he said, “I could never hate you. Tell me what it is that upsets you so.” “I’m not untouched,” she paused, seeing the tenderness leave his eyes as anger flashed brightly within them. Bravely, she squared her shoulders knowing there would be no turning back. “I no longer have my virtue.” Cray left his spot next to her and walked to the blazing hearth. He laid an arm across the mantel and stared into the flames. With a voice foreign to her, he asked, “Tanner?” “No,” she replied truthfully. Cray whirled on his heel, glaring at her in surprise and pain. “Then who?” he nearly roared as he clenched his fists at his side. Ariel nervously clasped her hands tightly within her lap, but never once did her gaze falter. “My father molested me when I was a child.” Craylen stumbled in his stance, his eyes widened, his brows raised. As he nearly lost his footing, he backed into the grate, rocking it on its legs, nearly sending it crashing to the floor. He opened his mouth to reply then snapped it shut, clenching his teeth, hardening his jaw. His gaze masked over. She could no longer tell how he was feeling or if he cared. Suddenly, without a word, he walked out the door of his chambers and gently closed it behind him. Ariel stared at the closed door for long numb moments. Craylen had left her. Her heart plummeted to her stomach, warring with it for space in her abdomen as bile rose in her throat. Out of all the reactions she expected, this wasn’t one of them. Ariel ran from her spot on the bed and wretched in the chamber pot 287
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at the side of the room. As she sat back on her haunches and returned her gaze to the closed door, tears streamed freely down her face as she thought of the man who had cruelly abandoned her, leaving the room. Surely now, she would never gain his love. “God, no!” she wailed into her hands as she collapsed to a pile on the floor.
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CHAPTER 31
Screams echoed about the hall as Ryder paced the carpet runner, hands clasped behind his back, the sound of his spurs chinking loudly down the empty corridor with each step. How much more could he possibly take? Hours ago, Ryder had returned to the house to patiently wait outside Cheri’s room after leaving Tanner in the hands of the local law. Adelaine’s body had been taken away in preparation for burial on the morrow. But no matter how he wished it might be true, the only thing Tanner was guilty of, besides kidnapping, was loving the wrong woman. Someone else had killed Adelaine Montgomery. Another scream came from the other side of the closed door. Ryder whirled on his heel and glared at the wooden entrance. Damned if he didn’t want to march in there and take away Cheri’s pain. He had seen many die in his life, but never before had he experienced something as gut wrenching as his wife’s cries of agony. And all of this so she could give him a child. His love for her multiplied within his chest. 289
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Aside from his movements and the cries echoing through the night, all were abed and the night was silent. At least if anyone were still up, Ryder would have been able to keep his mind occupied by questioning everyone and attempting to piece together the puzzle, coming up with Adelaine’s murderer. He couldn’t dismiss the fact that one pair of footprints led back to the main estate. Outside the door of the hothouse, there were several prints, making it hard to determine exactly where each set had come from, not to mention the blowing wind covering up all leads. There was also the note Ryder found scrunched into a ball, lying within feet of Adelaine. Ryder had yet to tell anyone else about the damning evidence, but someone had obviously summoned her presence to the place that would seal her demise. He had a feeling, if he found the author of the note, he would likely find the murderer. Another cry drifted to his ear, nearly tearing him in two. When he had first arrived, Cheri’s screams were several minutes apart, but now they came more often, obviously not allowing her to rest a moment. Finally, unable to stand hearing her pain from a distance any longer, he swung open the door and marched in. Tabitha’s eyebrows raised as her maid, Carmen’s, mouth rounded. Ryder quietly closed the door behind him and approached the bed. A tiny smile turned up the corners of Cheri’s mouth as she looked at him in adoration. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I can’t stand to pace the floors a moment longer,” Ryder told her, hoping she understood. Men normally didn’t enter the room when their wives were giving birth. It simply wasn’t done. Sweat beaded her brow and dampened the sides of her hair. Ryder could see the lines of pain creasing her forehead and reached out to soothe them. Cheri’s hand shot out quickly, catching Ryder off guard. She curled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled it with all the 290
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strength she could muster. Ryder clenched his teeth in pain as Cheri let out another mighty scream and arched her back from the mattress. “It’s time to push, dear,” Carmen said from her position at the foot of the bed. “Lean up when you feel your next pain and push with all your might.” Cheri released her death grip on Ryder’s hair and smiled placidly at him. Wisely, Ryder took a step back, out of her reach. At this rate, Ryder thought, he would be lucky if he had any hair left by the time his daughter took her first breath in this world. “You’re doin’ fine, darlin’.” Ryder tried his best to sound reassuring, when he, himself, wondered at the truth of his statement. “How the hell would you know?” Cheri hissed through clenched teeth. “Are you in much pain, darlin’?” Cheri chuckled, though no trace of humor laced the sound. “Step a little closer where I can reach them boys between your legs, and I’ll gladly show you how much pain I’m in.” Another spasm brought Cheri off the mattress to a near sitting position as she cried out and bore down, trying to bring Ryder’s child into this world. Finally, the pain subsided and Cheri returned her back to the bed. She smiled at Ryder, though meek it was. “Come here, sweetheart. Hold my hand.” “I ain’t comin’ any where near you,” Ryder chuckled. “Hell, not when you’re threatenin’ my boys.” Cheri giggled but before Ryder felt safe enough to approach, another contraction had Cheri grasping her stomach and pushing with all the strength she had left. “It’s coming,” Carmen giggled. “I can see the head. Push, dear.” Tabitha wiped Cheri’s brow. “Push, my dear. It’s almost over.” Ryder felt a wave of dizziness pass over in his sudden joy. He approached the bed and took Cheri’s hand, enfolding it within his. 291
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“You’re doin’ fine, darlin’. Push.” Cheri sat forward and pushed as Ryder supported her back. “The head, the head,” Carmen giggled. “Come on, Cheri, one more push and it’s all over.” Cheri inhaled deeply, gritted her teeth and pushed. A tiny head popped out, followed quickly by the shoulders. Carmen took the baby, cut and tied the cord, cleared its throat, then handed the crying infant girl, still red from the birth fluids, to Cheri. “Ahh, sweetheart, look at her, isn’t she precious?” Cheri turned a look filled with love on Ryder. He glanced from her to the squalling baby within his wife’s arms then allowed the blackness, threatening to consume him, to envelope him and promptly collapsed to the floor. * * * Cray tipped the half-empty bottle of bourbon to his lips, feeling the fiery liquid burn clear to his toes but not any of the numbing effects of the alcohol. Right now, he didn’t want to think, to feel. He wanted to drown his thoughts in the bottle. To wallow in self-pity. But what right did he have to feel sorry for himself, when Ariel was the one who had suffered? He had heard Cheri’s cries of pain upstairs, thankfully suffocating out the sound of Ariel’s own cries permanently lodged within his memory. He had walked out on her. Cray shook his head sadly. How could he be so callous as to leave her after her surprise confession? But what was he to do? After all the secrets he might have thought her to harbor, never would he have been prepared for the one she imparted upon him this night. He tipped the bottle up, taking another long pull, then wiped away any traces of wetness with the back of his hand. Cray tilted his head against the top of the leather chair and stared at the ceiling. The night was finally silent. Cheri must have given birth. Cray 292
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released a sigh, sparing a brief happy thought for the couple, then returned his regard to the woman he loved, who, no doubt, still sobbed upstairs. How would he ever explain his cruel actions? To walk out on her? Hell, he should have her within his arms at this very minute, whispering regrets of yesterday and assuring her that everything would be all right tomorrow. But he couldn’t. How could he convince her everything would be fine, when he himself had no idea how to fix the problems separating them? He loved Ariel, but Cray was afraid of touching her, reminding her of her father’s nighttime groping. After all, when the lights go out… For that alone, Cray was afraid to touch her. How could he assure her, he wasn’t the man from her nightmares? Groaning, he ran a hand down his jaw, feeling the roughness of whiskers already starting to grow there. How the hell was he to promise to keep his hands to himself? Every time he was in her presence, the same room as her, he felt the hunger growing inside of him, gnawing at him, licking at his soul like the tendrils of flames, threatening to burst him into a raging inferno. His only line of defense was distance, and a lot of it. A knock sounded on his study door, bringing him from his musings. “Come in,” Cray said, not bothering to turn around and see who might want to enter. “I saw the light on in here,” he heard C.W.’s voice say from behind him. “Thought it might be you, though I can’t figure out why on earth you’re in here instead of upstairs comforting your wife since her mother was just murdered hours ago. But then again, nothing you do surprises me.” “I’m not up for one of your scoldings, if that’s what you came here for,” Cray said to the wall, refusing to turn his attention to the man who gave him life. Hell, the last thing he felt like doing at the moment was talking to 293
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his father. “I know I’m not your favorite person in the world,” C.W. said as though he had read Cray’s thoughts. “But since you’re up, I’d like to discuss something with you.” “I really don’t think this is the right time, C.W.” “There is no right time for this, boy,” C.W.’s tone raised, daring Cray to argue. He walked around Cray’s leather seat and took the one opposite. Cray offered the bottle he held out to C.W. who shook his head. “Cheri have her baby?” “Tabitha said it was a girl.” “Everything all right?” “Once they got Ryder off the floor.” Cray’s eyes widened as he looked up from his lap to his father. “What happened?” A smile grew on C.W.’s face and for the first time in many years Cray really looked at him, noting the new lines across his forehead, around his mouth, his eyes. C.W. Rollins was aging, looking old, beyond his years. Hell, his father wasn’t invincible after all. “I guess Ryder took one look at his newborn daughter, still bloody from the birth, and passed out on the floor.” Cray chuckled along with his father, then smiled in amusement. “I guess Ryder Storm isn’t as infallible as I first thought.” “Everyone has their weaknesses, son.” “Then where is yours, C.W.? For as long as I can remember, you were always stubborn as a mule and as strong as an ox. What knocks you off your pedestal?” Cray asked, a hint of sarcasm laced his words. “You,” he replied simply. Cray narrowed his eyes, noting the sadness in his father’s eyes, but said nothing, waiting for his father to elaborate. C.W. stood and began pacing the area in front of the chair, hands clasped behind his back, never once stopping to look Cray in the eye. 294
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Finally, he said, “Ten years ago, my eldest son went off to war and never came back.” “I’m here, aren’t I?” Cray said in bitterness. C.W. didn’t look at Cray, but continued, “I don’t know what happened while you were there. You never talked about it. To anyone. But you changed, came home bitter, not the same man you were when you left. You treated everyone the same aside from me, and possibly Clifford, too. For some reason, you shut me out. I was no longer Father, but C.W.” He stopped in his pacing to stare at his son. “You can’t know how it feels to be treated as such, especially by my first born.” “I can’t pretend to know.” “I had all kinds of plans for you—to take over my businesses, to get married, to have my grandchildren. But never in my life would I have sent you off to war.” “But you let me go, none the same.” “How was I to stop you?” C.W.’s face reddened in his mounting ire. “You come home one day and tell me you’ve enlisted. Damn you for not asking.” “I was an adult, C.W., I don’t think I needed your permission. Besides, I was fighting for a cause—one you bought Clifford’s way out of,” Cray shouted. His father’s eyes widened as he took a step backward. “So this is what this has been all about. You’re angry with me for not allowing Clifford to be drafted.” “Not once did you say you didn’t want me to go.” “If I would have, would you still have gone?” “Yes.” “And I already knew that. What good would it have done me to plead you to stay and not to go off to the war? I thought you would surely come home in a box, dead. I wanted to hate you for signing your own death certificate. But I couldn’t, I was too proud.” C.W. sat back in the leather chair, the fight gone from him. 295
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“So why did you pay Clifford’s way out of the draft?” “Clifford’s not like you and me.” C.W. reached for the bottle of bourbon and took a swig, then handed it back to Cray. “He wouldn’t have survived. He’s weak…he’s…oh, damn,” C.W. ran a hand over his mouth. “How the hell do I tell you?” “That he likes men and women?” Cray asked, watching his father’s gaze dart up from the floor to meet his. “How long have you known?” “I just recently figured it out. But I had my questions before.” “He just had to bring that…that man to this house. What the hell was I to tell Cliff when he had invited him?” “That it was all right. It’s not up to us, Father, to choose who Clifford sees.” “What was that?” “It’s not up to—” “Not that part. You called me Father.” Tears welled in his aged eyes. “I haven’t heard that from your lips in ten long years.” “Too damn long,” Cray agreed, feeling his own surge of emotions, but stayed them by clenching his teeth. C.W. smiled, already appearing years younger. “The best place for Clifford was Dickenson School of Law. I sent him off to Carlisle, Pennsylvania after I paid for his draft deferment. Hell, I hoped you’d have understood.” “Why didn’t you tell me then?” “At the time, I was hoping I was wrong about Clifford’s choice in partners. I couldn’t tell you something like that about your own brother. Hell, I think I was still denying the possibility.” C.W. paused, then changed their line of conversation. “Why aren’t you upstairs comforting your new wife instead of cuddling with a bottle of bourbon?” Cray looked out the window. “We have some problems we need to work through, nothing you need to concern yourself with.” 296
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“There isn’t anything two people who love each other can’t work out. Your mother and I have been through some rough times, many of which she should have thrown my ungrateful ass out for, but she stuck by me.” “She loves you.” “Just as Ariel loves you. I can see it in her eyes, the way she looks at you. Ariel adores you, son. Don’t mess this up and wind up regretting it the rest of your life.” Cray stood and walked to the window, placing a hand on either side of the woodwork. “I hope you’re right, Father, that all can be worked out. I certainly hope you’re right,” he repeated as he dazed into the distance. C.W. patted Cray on the shoulder and left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Cray let out the breath he held, fogging the plate of glass before him. All these years he had thought his father wasn’t proud of his stint in the war, when quite the opposite was true. He didn’t simply buy Clifford’s way out because of his distaste for war, but to save his middle brother’s life. His father was right. Clifford wouldn’t have lasted. He would have come home in a box. All those years of bitterness were for nothing. Cray wanted to waste no more time on the problem keeping Ariel and him apart. He prayed for the patience and knowledge on how to handle this new situation that had developed between them, hoping that when he found the way, it wouldn’t be too late.
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CHAPTER 32
“I’m sorry to have to ask you these questions.” Ryder apologized again to C.W. and Tabitha Rollins as they sat across from him in the parlor. He had already dismissed several of the guests, contented with the answers they had supplied him with. So far, though, he had little to go on. “But I must question everyone before they leave today.” “It’s no problem, Mr. Storm,” Tabitha said, a smile resting on her lovely face. C.W. sat to her side, his mouth taut as he looked at Ryder through narrowed eyes, saying nothing. “Did you see anyone leave the party early last night, then possibly return?” “It’s hard to tell, Mr. Storm. This is a large estate and people came and went as they pleased,” Tabitha answered. “Stop and think, Mrs. Rollins—anyone that might have appeared suspicious in any way.” “Why don’t you just accuse one of us, boy,” C.W. spoke up, anger lacing his words. 298
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Ryder stiffened his shoulders, reminding himself, this man was Cray’s father. “I’m not accusin’ anyone at this point, Mr. Rollins. But without questionin’ everyone here last night, I have little to go on.” “What do you have?” C.W. raised a brow at Ryder. “I know two people from this house went out to the hothouse while only one returned.” “And how could you possibly know that?” C.W. growled. “The footprints in the snow clearly showed this.” “So, you’re saying someone in this house killed Adelaine. Hell, boy, half the people here wanted to see that witch dead. Aside from poor Ariel, I doubt anyone mourns her passing.” “That much rings true, but most of you wouldn’t see the job done. Now, I’ll repeat my question, do you recall anyone actin’ suspicious or leavin’ the party and returnin’ later? Possibly havin’ snow on their feet?” Tabitha looked to C.W. who sat closed lipped. Obviously, Ryder thought, a bull wouldn’t drag from this man what he didn’t willingly want to give. Tabitha turned her caring gaze back to Ryder. “Clifford’s friend was gone for a short period and when he returned, his shoes were wet. But I’m sure it was nothing more than using the privy. After all, what motive would he have to want Adelaine dead? He didn’t even know her.” “That’s all the questions I have. The two of you are free to go if you wish.” “You mean you aren’t accusing us of anything, boy?” C.W. grumbled as he got to his feet. Ryder rose to tower over the older man and stuck his hand out in a kind gesture. “The name is Ryder Storm, not boy.” C.W. took his offering and shook Ryder’s hand, a smile growing on his lips. “You got balls, Ryder, I’ll give you that.” He turned to Tabitha and said, “You ready, sweetheart? I think it’s time we take our entourage of servants and head for home. It’s high time we give that 299
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son of ours and his lovely wife time to themselves.” “Will Henry be leaving with us?” Tabitha asked. C.W. chuckled, the sound deep as though it reverberated up from low in his chest. “Craylen invited him and who am I to say no. Besides, Henry will keep them on their toes.” “That he will,” Tabitha chuckled as they headed out of the parlor. Within the hour, loads of servants and trunks were being placed in a wagon and carriages as the Rollinses prepared to head for their home. Ryder noted Cray was absent from the well-wishers, but Ariel stood demurely to the side, then kissed her in-laws’ cheeks, thanking them for everything. After their departure, she returned to her room at the top of the stairs and the house fell silent. Ryder rang for the butler who quickly entered the parlor. “Sir?” Edward asked. “I would like to talk to Davon Alexander and Clifford,” Ryder requested. “Right away, sir.” Edward bowed and exited the parlor. Within minutes, Davon and Clifford entered the room. “Have a seat.” Ryder indicated the yellow-striped settee. He paced the floor before them, noting how Clifford patiently waited as Davon shifted anxiously in his seat, toying with the hem of his jacket, not able to look Ryder in the eye. Finally, Ryder stopped and faced the two. “Did either of you leave the party at all last night?” “No,” Clifford answered. “I sat here most of the night, enjoying the champagne.” “Mr. Alexander?” “No, I sat with Clifford most of the night,” he answered all too quickly, catching Ryder’s attention. Ryder placed a hand on the arm of the settee and leaned forward, leaving scant inches between his and Davon’s face. “Think real hard.” “Well, I might have left—” “To go to the hothouse to meet with Adelaine?” Ryder knew if he 300
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pushed hard enough, this small man would crack beneath the pressure should he know anything at all. “Well, yes, but I didn’t kill her. I never went into the hothouse.” “You went to see Adelaine? About what?” Clifford looked in astonishment at his friend. Ryder stood back and tossed the tattered note he held in his hand to Davon’s lap. “This yours?” “I wrote it but I never got the chance to speak to her,” Davon said, his voice trembling. “Someone else was already there so I came back here. I wasn’t gone but a minute.” “What on earth did you go see Adelaine about in the first place?” Clifford asked, his tone raising an octave. “I wanted to warn her about staying away from you—” “I can’t believe you would do such a thing. My God, Davon, this is my life. Need I fear this kind of thing in the future from you? You knew I liked women as well.” Ryder looked from one man to the other, raising a brow, dumbfounded by their revelations. Davon crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his nose haughtily in the air. “Well, I couldn’t tolerate the way she treated you. I simply wouldn’t put up with it.” Ryder cleared his throat to draw their attention. This squabble was better left in private. He looked at Davon. “You say someone else was already in the hothouse with Adelaine?” “Well, I didn’t see him with her—” “You’re sure it was a him?” “Most positively. The breadth of his shoulders would be on no woman I’ve ever known.” “What did he look like?” Ryder knew if he could get a good enough description, he would find his murderer. “Did he see you?” “No, I’m sure he never saw me approaching with the snow and all. And I didn’t get a real good look at him either.” 301
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“So you couldn’t identify him?” “No…though there was something familiar about his face when the light from the hothouse hit it that I couldn’t place my finger on offhand. I only caught a glimpse of him, but enough to know, I didn’t know him. Never saw him before.” Davon’s gaze was unwavering when he met Ryder’s. Ryder could see in his eyes that Davon Alexander spoke the truth. Clifford suddenly raised a finger, catching both of their attentions. “So you’re the one!” Davon’s brows formed a frown over his nose as he looked at Clifford. “It all makes sense.” “What?” Davon was clearly lost to what Clifford was talking about. Ryder was about to dismiss them, sure neither was the murderer, so they could work this out alone, but suddenly didn’t want to miss this for the world. His curiosity was peaked. “You put the dead rat beneath the Christmas tree for Adelaine.” Clifford smiled. “I did no such thing.” Davon splayed a hand over his chest, appearing the wounded. “Of course you did. Who else besides this family would have had the opportunity.” “I wasn’t even here at Christmas.” Davon drew his brows together. “No, but I had my packages delivered. You had every opportunity to place one of your own with mine.” “All right, guilty, counselor.” Davon shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I was hoping to scare her into going home. But I didn’t kill her,” he added quickly as his gaze returned to Ryder. “No, you didn’t,” Ryder affirmed. “The two of you are free to go.” Ryder watched from his position by the fireplace as the two argued all the way out of the room. Shortly thereafter, they, too, had packed their bags and headed for home, leaving only a handful of people left in the house. It had been hours since Ryder had last seen Cray. Ariel, too, was 302
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keeping herself at bay. What could have possibly happened between the two to keep them apart on the day after their wedding? Cray kept himself in the study, while Ariel stayed within the confines of her room. With only a few people left to question, Ryder went to the butler’s bell and pulled. Edward quickly came to the entrance of the parlor. “Sir?” “Henry Rollins and Ariel, Edward,” Ryder requested. “Right away, sir.” Edward bowed and left to do his bidding. A few minutes passed and Henry Rollins walked in the room, followed shortly by Ariel. Henry walked to the side table and poured himself a glass of water before taking a seat by Ariel, who nervously wrung the fabric of her dress, not looking at Ryder at all. “Did either of you two see anyone strange last night. Someone who might not have been invited?” Ryder asked. Henry shook his head and Ariel finally glanced up from her lap to look at Ryder. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face puffy. Ryder thought she looked as though she had gotten little sleep and he thought it wasn’t due to the normal wedding-night activities. He scolded himself. This was none of his business. But damn, he hated to see this poor woman suffer. She was, after all, his sister-inlaw. If push came to shove, though he wasn’t one to normally get involved, he would have a talk with Cray before they headed back to Arizona. He just hoped the two would work things out on their own and his talk would be unnecessary. “No,” she said in a timid voice, then glanced back to her lap. “Aside from Tanner, that is.” Her gaze went back to Ryder’s. “How is he?” “He spent the night in jail. He’ll have kidnapping charges brought against him. But no one will charge him with murder if that’s what you’re wonderin’.” “Will he spend a long time in jail?” “Long enough to weigh his situation. By the time he gets out, I 303
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don’t think he’ll come botherin’ you and Cray.” Ryder felt her pain at the mention of her husband. Her eyes teared and she dropped her gaze back to her lap. “What’s wrong, Ariel?” Henry asked as he grasped her hand lightly in his. “Has Craylen been treating you poorly? Maybe I should—” “No!” Ariel’s gaze flew to Henry’s. “We’ll work this out. Please, Henry, don’t make this any harder for me. Cray has to do this himself. Nothing you could say or do would help matters.” Ariel looked back at Ryder. “Now if there is nothing else you want from me, I have things I need to do.” “Go on ahead, Ariel. I’m finished here.” “You’ve found my mother’s murderer then?” Her eyes were wide, hopeful. Ryder knew Ariel wanted nothing more than to put the whole turn of events behind her and get on with her life. “I believe so.” “Who?” Ariel and Henry asked in unison. “I can’t say just yet. There are a few things I need to check with first. I’ll tell you all soon enough.” Ryder walked to the door, then turned back. “I’m going upstairs to look in on Gabrielle and Cheri, then I’ll ride into town to check on things with Tanner and the preparations for Adelaine’s burial should anyone need me.” “Congratulations on your baby girl,” Ariel told him. “Thank you. She looks just like her mother.” Before Ryder could exit the room, Ariel called out to him again, stopping him. “Could you tell Tanner I understand why he did what he did and I’ll never hate him for it?” “Sure thing, honey.” Then Ryder exited the room, taking the stairs two at a time, in a sudden hurry to see his family. With all the troubles in this household, Ryder was thanking the good Lord for his own. * * * 304
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The house was silent. No chatter, no cries, nothing. Funny how the house was exactly as it had been a few months back, but now somehow seemed unbearably lonely. Cray looked out the window to see a light dusting of snow. Sometime over the course of the night, the wind had stopped, the clouds had passed, and the sun now reflected brightly off the white surface. Usually, the coming of the sun always lifted Cray’s spirits. The grayness of winter had a tendency to shadow them. Today, though, nothing would lift the cloud covering his heart. His parents had left along with Clifford and his friend, leaving only his family—his family and Ryder’s. Days ago, Cray couldn’t wait for the peace and quiet, time spent alone with his new bride. But now? Now, he couldn’t even find the courage to seek out Ariel. Not after the way he had reacted last night. Hell, he hadn’t the courage to leave his study long enough to wish his mother and father well. Or to see Clifford off, now that he harbored no more ill feelings toward him. He knew Ariel was just outside his door wishing them all good passage. He had felt her presence, her pain. God, but he was a fool. Tears gathered in his eyes but refused to fall, stubborn like the man who produced them. If only…if only what? Ariel would come running into his arms? Come pleading for him to love her? He laughed in spite of himself. He should be the one begging for her forgiveness, comforting her for her past agonies. But damn himself to hell, here he sat in his study. A coward. He had always known himself to be one, being the one who walked away at the end of the war. But not in this…not where women were concerned. He had always took what he wanted then walked away without a backward glance. Even with Melissa Ward he harbored no regrets at breaking off their relationship. 305
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Not this time, though. He didn’t want to walk away, turn his back. He wanted to hold Ariel within his arms and whisper endearments into her ear. He wanted to kiss her face, her body. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to make love to his wife and show her the depth of his true feelings. Something he should be doing at this very minute. Cray sat back down in the over-stuffed leather chair facing the flames flickering in the hearth. He tipped his glass to his lips, taking a long pull on the fiery liquid, emptying the glass, then lay his head against the high back of the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. Cray’s lids drifted closed as he prayed for blessed blackness to stop his rolling thoughts. He no longer wanted to think of the vision upstairs, if even just for a few minutes. A soft knock brought Cray out of his chair. He was unsure how much time had passed, but noted that dusk was rapidly closing in. He must have fallen asleep. Cray placed the glass he still held on the side table and raked his hands through his disheveled hair, knowing he must look a fright. “Come in,” he called out hoarsely. The door opened and Ariel stood in the passageway, holding her reticule in one hand and her Russian-sable muff in the other. Dressed in a blue coat with gold braiding and a hat bedecked with ribbons atop her head, he was reminded of months ago when she had first stepped into his home. “You going somewhere?” Cray asked as a tightness stretched across his chest, hampering his breathing, stopping his heart. Tears glazed her summer-blue eyes as she stiffened her spine and met his stare head on. “I’m going home.”
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CHAPTER 33
“You’re going home?” Cray mimicked, though the end of his question raised an octave in tone. Dear God in heaven, surely he hadn’t heard her right. “To where?” Ariel’s hands made tight fists over the objects she held within them, whitening her knuckles. “Rhode Island. With the death of my mother…” Cray’s brows drew together and his heart plummeted to his stomach. Certainly she couldn’t be serious. “You’re leaving me?” Each word was laced with the pain he felt, unable to keep the torment from his voice. “Don’t sound so distraught, Cray.” Ariel’s voice cracked, giving way to her own despair. “I’m giving you back the life my mother stole from you. Now, with her death, I can return to her home that is now mine and run the tavern. I should make enough to survive.” Cray began pacing the floor, feeling like a lion caught in a snare. How the hell would he manage to get out of this one? Tell her you love 307
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her. The thought scrambled through his brain, looking for a way out, yet his mouth refused to say the words. Instead, he turned his gaze to the window, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes as a tear slipped down his cheek. Maybe Ariel feared his touch so much, this was her only way to deal with her past. If so, then he had no choice but to let her go. “I see,” Cray whispered, his voice haunted and distant. A chill traveled along the flesh of his bare arms and chest. He ran his hands over the surface of his arms, attempting to warm what was cold. “I’ll see to an annulment for us.” Cray heard the quiver in her voice, the crack that told him she was so near to tears. “After all, we never did consummate our union.” He heard the hiccough caused from a broken sob, knew without looking, her hand now covered her lips to still their trembling. Tell her, damn you! the voice in his head shouted. Are you actually going to let her walk out that door? “No, we didn’t,” Cray said, his tone stiff, unyielding, as he clenched his teeth to stop more tears from falling. He angrily swiped away one that had escaped. “I’m sorry, Cray.” “For what?” he roared, his anger taking over his despair. Cray turned from the window, facing her, his body taut from bridled emotions. “For loving me or leaving me?” Tears fell down her cheeks unheeded as her body trembled. “I can’t stay when I know how much I disgust you.” “Disgust me?” Cray chuckled nervously, raising a brow. “Disgust me? My God, Ariel, how could you not see the truth,” Cray pointed to his eyes, “when it is so plainly written here. Look at me, Ariel. My body trembles, my heart aches, my soul cries out for fear of losing you. Damn you for not seeing how much I love you!” “You what?” Ariel giggled on a sob, wiping the tears from her cheeks, her reticule and muff now lying on the floor, forgotten. 308
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“I love you, Ariel.” Cray approached her slowly, each move of his limbs an effort caused from the numbness that had settled over them. “God, I love you.” He grasped her arm and pulled her against him, his mouth seizing hers. His tongue slipped past her lips as his arms slid around her back, anchoring her to him. Cray held tight, not wanting to let go, fearing if he did, she might still walk out that door. His lips caressed her face, kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, the line of her jaw. Her heart soared in her chest, unfolding like the wings of a butterfly as it emerges from its cocoon. Craylen loved her. Wasn’t this what she had wanted? His love, his devotion? Ariel slid her hands up his back, her movements hampered by the thickness of her coat, feeling the taut muscles lying beneath his skin. His flesh was hot, scorching her wherever her fingers dared go as his lips continued to place fleeting kisses about her face, only to return to her mouth in possession. Her mind reeled as she felt his arm slip behind her knees and pick her up into his embrace, as though she weighed no more than a feather. He kicked the open door aside with a bare foot and carried her from the study, meeting several of his servants in the foyer with her packed bags. “Sir?” Edward questioned, looking from Cray to the carriage rolling up to the front steps. Cray broke away from their kiss as he looked at the stiff butler who held open the door. “Put away those bags, Edward, my wife won’t be going anywhere.” “Yes, sir.” A large smile lit his normally cantankerous face. Cray wasted no time getting to the top of the stairs as he took them two at a time and Ariel linked her hands behind his neck. He pushed aside the already opened door to his room with his shoulder, then slammed it shut with his foot. 309
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Cray laid her in the center of his unmade bed, pushing to one side the empty champagne bottle still lying there. Ariel knew there would be no turning back as a hunger only he evoked in her took over her body. Ariel wanted Cray, his touches, his kisses, to feel him inside her. Never in her life was she more ready to move on from her past and leave it forgotten behind, locked away in a small remote corner of her thoughts, never again to be taken out and examined. Craylen had rescued her from the torment. Cray walked to the hearth and started a fire, stoking it with a poker until it blazed in the fireplace. The light danced off his light skin, shadowing the contours of his muscles. He looked so powerful, so strong, as he slowly made his way back to the bed. Ariel felt a strong desire to run her tongue along the contours in his chest and at the same time, shamed for harboring such sinful thoughts. Her face heated as a blush crept up to her face. Cray smiled, seeing her reddened cheeks and nearly laughed at his wife’s modesty, knowing the thoughts she entertained by the way she openly had studied his chest. The light blue of her eyes darkened in desire. “This might work a little easier should you decide to remove your coat,” Cray said, not being able to conceal the mischief in his voice. Ariel giggled as she shyly lowered her lashes. She sat up on the bed and released each button from its fastening, then pulled her arms free of the outer wear. Cray stood next to the bed, looking down on her, taking the coat from her offering hands. He threw the garment to the side. His eyes turned up in his merriment. “You’re still too covered for my liking.” “Well, had I been prepared, I might have worn something like you left me in last night.” Thankfully, the tone in Ariel’s voice noted her teasing. Otherwise, Cray might have suddenly felt the pang of regret all over again. “I was a fool,” Cray said as he sat behind her on the bed and his 310
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fingers deftly worked the seed buttons running down the back of her gown, then pushed the heavy fabric off her shoulders. Obviously, she had dressed for colder climates than the inside of his room. Cray placed a gentle kiss on her bared shoulder as he slipped the strap of her chemise down her arm. He felt the shiver he caused run through her body and smiled in spite of himself. He would give her all the time in the world she needed. In fact, he would enjoy every slow and agonizing moment of it. Ariel turned her head to the side to gaze back at him, and Cray covered her lips with his, thrusting his tongue inside the satiny flesh, anchoring her to him by grasping her shoulders firmly within his hands. His need for her throbbed almost painfully, telling him of his body’s want to do as his tongue was. Ariel turned suddenly within his embrace. Cray grasped the folds of her gown and chemise, pulling them down her body to her waist, leaving her torso as unclothed as his. Thankfully, she hadn’t the insight to wear a bodice, obviously in a hurry to be gone from his estate. Her arms free, she wrapped them around his neck, bringing her chest in contact with his. His breath caught in his throat as her hardened nipples brushed against the hair of his chest. Cray deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around her back, holding her flush, reveling in the feel of her against him. To think he might have lost her, never knowing the passion she held so tightly in. Finally breaking the kiss, Cray sat back, leaving them both gasping for air, as they stared wide-eyed at one another. Ariel giggled first, then Cray joined in. How ridiculous they both must look. Ariel with her hat askance atop her head, tendrils of hair slipping from her coiffure going every which way and that. And Cray, his flushed skin, mussed hair, and his tuxedo trousers wrinkled beyond repair. They looked desperate. Hell, Cray felt desperate. Desperate with need. Ariel brought her arms up to shield her breasts from his view, but 311
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Cray reached out stopping her. “Don’t.” A blush again reddened her cheeks as she looked shyly away. He grasped her chin, and brought her gaze back to his. Her eyes were wide, though darkened in passion, still wary of what was to come. “I won’t hurt you, sweetness.” Cray ran a palm over her soft cheek. “I’d never hurt you. All you need do is tell me to stop. Do you understand?” Ariel nodded her head slowly. Then without a word, her hands went to the closing of his trousers and undid the button, causing Cray to groan. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as she slid her hand in and enclosed him. God, what it must have cost her, Cray thought, as he reveled in her hot touch for only a brief moment before he grasped her wrist and withdrew her hand. Her eyes were wide with questions as he returned his gaze to her. Cray chuckled. “Soon enough, sweetness. But first, let me please you before you have me embarrassing myself by losing what I plan on bestowing you with.” Cray knew by the look in her eyes she hadn’t understood his comment. Again he chuckled, causing her to smile. “Let me see the rest of you,” he whispered huskily as he tugged at her gown, caught at her hips. Ariel rose from the mattress as he slipped the confining fabric free of her body, seeing her as he had what seemed like years ago. First in the hotel at Bridgeport, then later, here, at his estate, in front of her own fireplace. Ariel lay back on the mattress as Cray tossed her clothes to the floor. He finished undoing his own trousers, pushed them down his hips with his shorts, and stepped free of them. Ariel’s gaze traveled down his body, seeing him free of clothes for the first time since their night in Bridgeport. And that night, she remembered little of since she was under the influence of the drug her 312
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mother had given her. He was glorious. Each curve and contour sculptured from hard work done on his estate. By the looks of his body, he had constructed each mile of his stonewall fence surrounding the place all on his own. Ariel smiled and held out her hand, which he took, then added his own weight to the mattress beside her. It squeaked in protest. Cray’s hands went to her hair, pulling the pins free of her hat, then tossed it to the side. He pulled each comb from her hair, tossing them away as well, then spread the silken strands across the pillow. He clasped both sides of her face and returned his mouth to hers, taking from her all she was now willing to give. My husband. My loving wonderful husband. Ariel ran her nails lightly down Cray’s back, feeling his slight shiver at her touch. Her heart soared at the prospect of affecting him in the same manner he was affecting her. She wanted to feel every inch of him, to taste him, to love him. Cray moved his hand from her face down to one of her breasts, encompassing it, holding it, and cherishing it. Her musky scent drifted to his nose, telling him of her readiness, her desire. Cray’s own body throbbed in need, reacting in age-old desire to have her. But yet there was more than he had ever experienced before, there was love. He wanted to show her how he adored her, how beloved she was to him. His mouth left hers, to trail a path to one of her nipples, first circling it with his tongue, then drawing it into his mouth, suckling it gently. She arched from the mattress, pressing into the palm of his hand, pleading for more of what he had to give. His hand slid down her body and flattened against her tight stomach, pausing, giving her time to adjust to his ministrations. Cray didn’t want Ariel to fear him, to back to an unreachable place. He wanted to show her how beautiful making love could be, not some twisted thing pushed upon her as a mere child. 313
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Slowly, he moved his hand lower until he nestled it within the curls shielding her femininity. Ariel arched her hips into his hand, her body surrendering to his touch, her head tossing from side to side as she quietly called out his name in a hoarse plea. “God, you’re sweet,” Cray whispered. “What’s happening, Cray? I feel…so—” “Let yourself go, sweetness. This is only the tip of the iceberg.” And he was right. His fingers sank into her, nearly bringing her hips from the mattress as a spark of lightning skimmed across her skin, threatening to consume her. Bright lights flashed behind her eyelids. Her hands made tight fists in the mattress covers and she tilted her head against the pillow. “Oh dear God in heaven,” Ariel cried out as the feeling washed over her like tidewater, then sent her spiraling back to the mattress. When she finally had the courage to open her eyes, she looked at Cray who was smiling back at her. His hands were splayed over her rib cage, motionless. “You back?” he asked, humor lacing his words, one brow raised. “You can’t imagine what it feels like,” Ariel released on the breath she had held. “Oh, but I can, sweetness.” His grin was lopsided as he looked at her in merriment edged with passion. A blush quickly heated her face as she recalled all that he had probably slept with. “I had better be your last liaison, Craylen Rollins.” “You’ll be my only, Mrs. Rollins.” His eyes took on a serious quality. Suddenly, Ariel was aware of his arousal as it throbbed sensuously against her thigh. My, but she was selfish. “Cray?” she asked timidly. “What about you?” “Don’t think us finished, sweetness,” he chuckled, the sound deep and husky. “I’ve only just begun.” Ariel giggled as she snuggled into his embrace. “Oh, really, Mr. 314
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Rollins, do show me more,” she taunted. Cray spread her knees with one of his and positioned himself between them. “This, sweetness, has been long over due. You are now my wife.” He lowered himself, bracing his upper-body with the palms of his hand on either side of her shoulders. As he slowly entered her, a discomforting ache caused Ariel to gasp. Cray held motionless as he allowed her to become accustomed to his size, to mold herself around him. Then slowly, he began moving in and out of her in an age-old rhythm. Quickly, the waves of desire Cray had made her feel earlier, returned, tenfold. Being inside her was like nothing he had experienced before. She fit him like a leather glove, stroking, molding to him. Cray tried to hold himself back, to allow her time to reach her own first, but found it impossible with each steady stroke. Soon, Ariel matched his pace, rising to meet him, giving of herself. Cray felt the first pleasure pangs of desire as he tried desperately to hold them back, to prolong the goal they strived to reach together. Finally, Ariel’s body tightened around him, starting his own body into a matching reaction, like that of an explosion. Lightning snapped about the room as he tilted his head back and gave of himself to her. As Cray collapsed atop her, rolled to his side, and enfolded her within his embrace, he prayed for his seed to take hold. Nothing more in life would please him than for Ariel to give him a child.
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EPILOGUE
The sun shown brightly as the train whistle blew, making its slow descent into the station. Tears filled his wife’s eyes as they stood together on the cement loading dock, ready to bid the Storms farewell. Ariel hugged Cheri then Ryder, and kissed little Joey’s cheek and the top of Gabby’s head. Cray was certainly anxious to get his wife all to himself, but after spending a month with the Storms, he was going to miss them. Cray handed his wife the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit. She dabbed her face and attempted to compose herself as Cray held out his hand and shook Ryder’s. “Thank you for everything,” Cray told him. “You’re welcome to come back anytime. In fact, I insist upon it.” Ariel piped in, “You could make it a yearly trip.” Ryder chuckled, “We could certainly try. But don’t you forget, we’ll be expectin’ you come mid-July.” “Thanks again, Ryder. I don’t think we could have made it through 316
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the whole ordeal surrounding our wedding without you,” Cray told him. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, his long overcoat left unbuttoned and out of the way. “With Adelaine’s murderer caught and Tanner out of our lives, there won’t be any more obstacles for Ariel and I to cross.” “Owen McCabe won’t be botherin’ anyone for a long time to come. But if it wasn’t for Clifford’s friend, Davon, he might have gotten away with murder.” Ryder paused, looking at Joey. “There is only one other person this little guy looks like, and that’s his grandfather, Owen. So when Davon said there was something familiar about the man’s face he had seen—well, I knew he had seen Joey and probably just didn’t make the connection between the two. I’m just glad I could help.” “Did he ever say why he did it?” Ariel asked. “She scorned him back in Rhode Island, ruined Tanner’s life by takin’ you away from him, and maybe jealousy over her involvement with Clifford. The way I see it, he probably felt he’d had enough.” Ryder shook his head sadly, then picked up his son. “Who knows what drives a person to murder?” “Well, I guess this is good-bye,” Cheri said, her eyes much like Ariel’s. They hugged again briefly, careful of the infant in Cheri’s arms, then watched as the Storms boarded the train. Cray placed an arm around Ariel’s shoulders and smiled at her. Her large blue eyes looked at him in adoration and warmth. He doubted he would ever get tired of loving this woman. “Ready to go home, Mrs. Rollins?” Cray grinned mischievously. Ariel playfully slapped his chest. “I swear, Mr. Rollins, you can never get enough of what goes on between the sheets.” His grin widened. “With you? Never!” Cray and Ariel turned to leave, nearly running into a man hurrying to board the train. Cray reached out to steady himself and looked into the eyes of Matt Gilson. 317
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“Matt?” Cray asked, his brows drawing together. “What’s the hurry?” “Ahh, damn, I can’t seem to do anything right these days.” A look of utter despair crossed his face. “I was hoping to avoid seeing you before I left town. A note was to be delivered to you after my departure today.” “I noticed you haven’t been around. Hell, come to think of it, I haven’t seen you since my wedding.” Cray narrowed his eyes at Matt. “Where have you been keeping yourself?” Matt winced and for some reason, Cray knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. Matt raked a hand through his hair, brushing it away from one of his eyes, only to have it fall back into place. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Well, I certainly didn’t think with the new bride and all, you’d miss me much. I didn’t want to get in the way.” Cray smirked. “It never stopped you before. So where are you off to?” “Well, here’s the thing.” Matt looked up the tracks then back at Cray, shifting his baggage from one hand to the next, as he shifted his weight to the opposite foot. “The night of your wedding…well…” “Get on with it, man.” Cray felt his ire rise at Matt’s hesitance. “What about my wedding night? What the hell did you do now? Some floozy con you out of money?” Matt winced again, shifting his weight back to his other foot. “I certainly hope it was your own money,” Cray’s voice raised, matching his irritation. Matt gnawed on his lower lip, meeting Cray’s glare. “Dear God, how much of my money did you lose?” “About twenty thousand.” “What?” Cray roared, drawing everyone’s attention on the loading dock though he cared little. “Christ, Matt. If you weren’t such a damn good friend, I’d cold-cock you one.” 318
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Matt grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “That’s where I’m going, to get your money back.” “Who conned you?” “Skyler Stanton from Deadwood.” “Scheming Skyler? Have you no sense? Rumor has her conning the coast out of a fortune!” “I had no idea who she was—” “Let’s face it, Matt, you were conned by the pretty face,” Cray grumbled. “Guilty—but I’ll get every penny back…I promise.” Cray grinned and gave Matt a quick hug, patting him on the back. Stepping away from him, he said, “If you don’t, at least bring yourself back.” The conductor called out, “All aboard.” Matt grinned as he turned and ran to the train. He waved from the steel steps as it pulled from the station, then disappeared inside the car. Cray turned and looked at a grinning Ariel. His brows formed a frown above his nose. “And what are you so happy about, Mrs. Rollins? Didn’t you hear we just lost twenty thousand dollars? “Are we broke?” she asked, a look of innocence in her eyes. She had no idea, Cray thought, to the amount of his wealth. He chuckled. “No, far from it. Maybe chipped, but I think we’ll survive.” Cray placed his arm across her shoulder and began leading her to their carriage. He let out a long-felt sigh. “Don’t worry, Cray. Things will get better.” “I know, sweetness, but right now I don’t think a whole lot would cheer me up.” Cray raked a hand through his unruly locks. “My best friend just cost me a good deal of money and has informed me he’s running off to Deadwood. Now who will I get to run my clubs so I can spend all my time with you?” “I don’t know. We’ll manage.” Something sly in her tone made him look her way. Her face was 319
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positively glowing as a smile stretched across her face. “What?” Cray grinned. “What has you so overjoyed?” “I missed my monthly,” she told him. Cray burst into laughter, picked her up beneath her arms and twirled her in a circle. “Mrs. Rollins, you’ve just made me a very happy man.”
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PATRICIA A. RASEY A daydreamer at heart, suspense author, Patricia A. Rasey resides in her native town in Northwest Ohio with her husband, Mark, and two teenage sons. With the writing of Deadly Obsession, she was able to see her true dream come to pass, thanks to the support and encouragement of her very own hero, Mark. Ms. Rasey is a three-time recipient of the Word Weaving Award for Literary Excellence, received an Honorable Mention (in the “Suspense” category) in the prestigious Dorothy Parker Award Of Excellence 2000, and was nominated for Romantic Times Magazine’s Best Electronic Book of 2001. Two of Patricia’s novellas were nominated for the PEARL, the Paranormal Excellence Award in Romantic Literature, in the Best Anthology category, and her books continue to receive rave reviews. Patricia is a member of Sisters in Crime (SinC), their Internet Chapter, and EPIC. When not behind her computer, you can find Patricia cheering on her sons at various sporting events, or taking and teaching karate, which she enjoys doing with her eldest son. You can write to Patricia at: Patricia A. Rasey P.O. Box 385 Napoleon, OH. 43545 You can visit Patricia on the World Wide Web at: http://www.PatriciaRasey.com.
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Don’t miss Lawfully Yours, by Patricia A. Rasey, available now, from Amber Quill Press, LLC
Bounty hunter Ryder Storm likes women little and trusts them even less. Against his better judgment, he accepts the job of tracking down the woman who murdered a Rhode Island businessman. Finding her seems simple enough, but keeping his heart becomes the biggest challenge of his life. Cheri Henderson is a woman down on her luck, working in the uncultured West, trying her best to properly raise her son without the benefits of a father. Little does she know, however, the crude bounty hunter sent to Tucson to catch a murderer is actually looking for her.
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