by Lora Leigh
“She’ll accept it, Cade. If you explain it to her.” It was a heavy disagreement between them all.
Cade refused to tell Marly the details of the abuse, in even the vaguest form. He wanted her shielded, sheltered. His fury when he learned Tara, Marly’s former bodyguard, had revealed part of it, had ended in a vicious, bloody fight between himself and Tara’s brother-in-law, Rick.
Cade shook his head.
“Let me tell her, Cade,” he urged him, unable to bear the lonely pain he knew Cade felt.
“No one tells her, Brock.” Cade moved to lift the saddle oil from the bench beside him, and Brock felt a shaft of agony pierce his heart.
His brother’s face was lined, rough with unshed pain, unshed rage. His eyes were bleak, and so damned dark they looked like violent thunderheads. Brock clenched his fists, sucked in a hard, silent breath. He could do nothing, say nothing. He could only watch as Cade tended a piece of their past that was forever gone. Like their innocence. Except innocence was irreparable.
“What do I do, Cade?” he asked, clearing the emotion from his throat. No emotion. No need. He couldn’t, because he couldn’t bear the return of the nightmares, the horrible memories. “It’s my home, too. Will you sacrifice us all without even trying?”
Shock bloomed through Brock when Cade faced him fully. God. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t look in those eyes, nearly black with memories, with pain, shame. They had no reason to feel shame. Yet, he knew Cade did.
“I will not take her sense of security from her, Brock.” Cade’s voice vibrated with all the shattered hopes and dreams of a man who had once been innocent. Young. “I won’t do it, and neither will you. When I can control my need to part from that bond with you and Sam, you can bring Sarah home.”
Brock looked around the tack room and thought of the large house. It echoed with Marly’s laughter and sometimes with Cade’s. More often with Sam’s. And Brock knew that if this didn’t resolve, then as long as he had Sarah, he would never be able to return.
“Yeah. Sure.” Brock straightened from the wall, avoiding Cade’s gaze, avoiding more than just a look, and he knew it. “Just let me know, Cade.” And he knew Cade never would.
He turned without giving his brother a chance to speak and left the room. He wasn’t sure, but when he reached the wide stable doors, he thought he heard an animal’s whimper of pain. That lonely, haunting sound burst over his soul with the agonizing force of time. A young man’s whimper, his eyes black with shock, shame, his body—
He shook his head, pushing it back. Back. Far away where it couldn’t hurt the man, where it could never destroy ever again. Back to the past, where the shame, regret and blood were forever hidden.
CHAPTER SIX
Sarah couldn’t believe what Brock had done. The appointment at the doctor was bad enough. A thorough exam and blood testing resulting in a quick shot into her forearm of a birth control medication. Dr. Bennett, pleased to learn that her cycle had just passed, was happy to begin the shots immediately. Then, to her immense mortification, with a nonchalant attitude blithely handed her the report on Brock’s last blood tests as well. Disease free. Her face flamed as she remembered the doctor’s curious glance at her.
Normally, she would have balked at Brock’s domineering attitude when he informed her of the appointment. But there had been something about him. Something broken and lost, an edge of desperation in his look that had halted her. The way he touched her cheek, pulled her to him, his arms tight, his breathing harsh as he held her. So she had given in instead. And she wasn’t certain what she had glimpsed, or why it had hurt her to the soles of her feet.
“All set?” Brock stood to his feet in the outer office as she walked out of the examination room.
He ignored her blush. She was certain he had noticed it.
“Yeah, all set.” She drew close to him, overwhelmed once again by the sheer maleness of him. He exuded testosterone. Hard and handsome, warm and strong, and if the bulge in his pants was any indication, more than ready to take her to bed.
“I just got a call from the sheriff,” he told her as he led her from the doctor’s office. “Mark and his little friend are gone, and the cleaning crew just finished cleaning the house. You’ll have to replace most of the clothes he destroyed, but other than that everything seems in order. I also had your bed replaced.”
Sarah sighed. He was taking over. Why was he taking over? What the hell was going on here? She brought a man home for a night of rough and tumble sex, and all of a sudden she had blood tests, a birth control shot, and a new bed. None of it made sense.
“Thank you, but there was no need to bother,” she told him a bit desperately. “I didn’t mean for you to be put out this way.”
“That’s okay, love, I haven’t been put out.” He placed his hand at the small of her back as he led her to the jeep. “Mark doesn’t seem to be real accepting of this divorce though, Sarah. What’s up with that?”
His voice was carefully controlled, but she caught the under-edge of pulsing anger flowing through it.
“What’s up with you?” She kept her voice calm as she let him help her into the jeep, meeting his gaze as though there was nothing out of the ordinary with their conversation. “I was unaware this was any of your business.”
He stilled. Just like that. He didn’t even blink as he watched her for long moments. Just watched her. There was no anger in his face, no determination, but there was tenderness. What was it about that one, almost non-existent light in his eyes that stilled her anger?
“I’m making you my business, Sarah-love,” he told her softly. “All my business.”
Sarah blinked. His gaze was suddenly hot and possessive, searing over her flesh as he watched her closely.
“You’re supposed to wait for an invitation, Brock,” she told him coolly. “The world does not belong to the August men.”
“No, it doesn’t, but you just may,” he told her cryptically. “Now buckle up. I want to get you home so I can return to the ranch and get back here before nightfall.”
Get back? The door closed on her question. Reaching behind her, she pulled the seat belt forward, clipping it with a jerky, tense movement.
“You are not moving in with me, Brock August,” she bit out as he jumped into the jeep.
She watched his hands tighten on the wheel, then they relaxed and he was closing his door, fastening his own seat belt and starting up the vehicle.
“I don’t recall asking to.” His voice was smooth as honey, but he couldn’t hide the underlying edge of tension.
“I have a feeling you rarely ask for anything,” she grumped, settling against the seat as he drove towards her small house. “I bet you just walk right in and take over when you want something.”
She noticed the shuttered glance he gave her; despite the fact he appeared to be trying to hide it.
“Is there another way to do it?” he asked her, grinning as he navigated trough the sparse traffic of Madison’s main city street.
Sarah rolled her eyes.
“Why haven’t I heard about this dominant streak of yours before now?” she asked him testily. “None of your other women complained about it.”
He shot her a surprised glance.
“What the hell are you talking about?” His forced laughter was a bit strained.
Sarah looked at him mockingly.
“You think your other women haven’t talked over the years?” she asked him softly. “Gossip makes the world go around, Brock.”
“Hm. Cade says money does that.” He stared straight ahead.
Sarah hid her own nervousness now. She could tell that the subject of gossip bothered him. It made her wonder how many of the rumors were really true. Were the ones that had caused her the most concern years before more than just talk?
He took a deep breath.
“Which rumors are you talking about, Sarah?” He seemed to clear his throat.
Nervousness didn’t sit well on him, so it
was easy to read as it crossed his expression. Sarah wasn’t certain she wanted to go any further with this now.
She shrugged, staring out the windshield, wishing she hadn’t said anything. There was obviously something Brock was concerned about her hearing. Did she really want to know the truth about the dark tales? She decided quickly that she didn’t. There were some things a woman just couldn’t handle after a night like the one she had spent with Brock.
“Nothing.” She shook her head, refusing to glance over at him. “So why do you have to return to the ranch, then come back here?”
It didn’t make sense to her. She thought she knew everything there was to know about Brock August, but the man sitting beside her in the vehicle was nothing like the man she thought she knew.
He glanced at her, his expression considering.
“You aren’t staying the night.” Sarah crossed her arms over her breasts. Enough was enough. “It’s bad enough you kidnapped me last night, but this is ridiculous.”
“Kidnapped you?” He grinned over at her, the sexy quirk of his lips making her heart race. “I didn’t kidnap you, honey, I rescued you.”
“Rescued me?” She harrumphed. “That wasn’t a rescue, Brock, and you know it. You kidnapped and seduced me.”
She fought the blush rising to her cheeks at the thought of the night she had spent in his arms. He hadn’t just made her scream during that stolen hour in the jeep. He had awakened her once again before reaching the ranch, his hot erection easing into her with a slow measured thrust, and within minutes had her screaming again. She had barely had the strength to walk into the ranch house and up to his room. He had carried her though, his lips moving over hers, his tongue mating with her mouth as he stumbled his way to his room where he drove her higher, taking her breath, stealing her will as he forced the harsh cries of completion from her there as well.
Her throat was raspy this morning, her body pleasantly sore.
“Did you get the pills?” he suddenly asked her, his voice incredibly husky and hot.
Sarah’s face did flush then.
“No,” she bit out. “I took the shot instead.”
His body tensed.
“You’re safe now then?” he asked her, and she could hear his battle to appear merely curious.
“I am not having sex with you in this jeep, in broad daylight.” She flashed him a hard, measured look. “Do you understand me, Brock?”
He grinned again. Damn, she hated that grin. It made her stomach all fluttery, her thighs weak. She wanted to spread her legs right then and invite him in. She was insane. If the rumors were to be believed, then the last thing she wanted or needed right now, was Brock August taking a serious interest in her.
“I understand you, Sarah-love,” he said on a slow drawl. “Don’t worry darlin’, I won’t make you scream again until I have you in that big new bed you have waiting on you.”
She shivered. Damn she hadn’t meant to shiver like that. And she knew he didn’t miss it.
“I don’t like screaming.” She winced, wondering if lightning would strike her for that lie. It was a biggie.
He laughed now. No grin this time, she thought morosely, he knew better than that. But she liked that little, husky laugh. It was rusty, inexperienced, but a spark of enjoyment all the same.
“Sarah, darlin’, why are you fighting this so hard?” He handled the vehicle easily as he pulled onto her street.
Her small house was further down the lightly inhabited street, hidden by evergreens and elms from curious eyes. It wouldn’t help her though, she knew the curious eyes that tracked the progress of the jeep down the street. They would see it turn into her drive, then begin counting the hours before it left again.
“Because you’re dangerous,” she told him, twisting her fingers nervously as they lay in her lap. “I told you last night, Brock, I don’t think I can handle this. I don’t think I can handle you.”
She expected him to argue immediately. When he didn’t, she looked over at him worriedly. He was frowning a bit, his hands tense on the wheel as he pulled into her driveway and followed the one lane drive to her sheltered carport. He cut the engine, but rather than moving to get out of the jeep, he sat there silently for long moments.
“I’ve wanted you for a long time, did you know that?” he asked her, his voice soft as he stared into the wooded backyard behind the carport.
Sarah’s system went wild. The blood began to pump rapidly through her body, her stomach clenching and the moisture between her thighs building as it prepared her for his invasion. Dammit, she didn’t have a lick of sense.
She took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help a bit.
“I didn’t know.” She shook her head.
“Yes you did,” he told her, his voice sure and confident. “You were eighteen years old when you knew, Sarah. The night you ran from me, after the barbeque out at the ranch. You knew I wanted you. You married Mark Tate the next week. Why?”
Because he terrified her. Because she had known she would do anything he wanted, any way he wanted her to do it, and the thought of that had burned terror into her mind.
“I loved Mark—”
“You wanted me.” He turned on her then, anger burning in his gray-blue eyes, vibrating in his body. “I know you did, Sarah. I felt it the minute I touched that hot little cunt of yours, you wanted me. You were drenched, begging for it. And you still ran off and married that pint-sized little bastard. Why?”
“Why do you care?” She shook her head in confusion. “You act as though I betrayed you, Brock. As though we were somehow committed to each other. We weren’t.”
“You didn’t want him,” he accused her, refusing to answer her question. “You wanted me, Sarah.”
“I wanted Mark more—”
“God. Damn it woman, at least don’t lie to me. Tell me the fucking truth.” His voice rose in frustration.
“Because I didn’t want to be shared with your brothers,” she cried out, horror spreading through her system the minute the words were out of her mouth. “Oh God. I’m sorry.”
Panic burst through her blood stream. She jerked at the handle, threw the door open as she nearly fell from the jeep, wanting to run from him, to run from the truth and the terrible, shameful thoughts she had once had. Thoughts she still couldn’t get out of her mind.
“Dammit, Sarah!” Brock’s voice echoed through the quickly closed back door of the house.
Frustration lined his tone, yet she also heard a bleak pain she wished she could block.
“Sarah, you have to let me explain,” he said through the wood barrier. “Please, baby, let me explain.”
She shook her head, as she lowered it, ignoring the need in her to let him in, to hear whatever he had to say. One night. That was all she wanted, all she could have. The doctor’s appointment was a mistake. The hope inside her short lived. She couldn’t share him, she couldn’t allow herself to be shared. It was better this way, she promised herself. But she couldn’t ignore the flare of lust or curiosity at the thought.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He was gone. Sarah stood, her back to the closed door, breathing in raggedly. He had followed her, asked her more than once to let him into the house, but she had refused. She lowered her head, fighting the racing of her heart, the regret that twisted in her stomach. She had wanted one night. Not a doctor’s appointment and the implication of an affair she couldn’t handle right now. Not with him. Not after seeing the truth in his eyes.
Rumors ran rife in Madison about the August brothers. Their father, old Joe August, had been a cruel man. Sarah remembered her father speaking often of the bruises the boys carried while they were younger, and how they had changed after old man Joe had sent them off to foster on another ranch one year. Not too much time had passed before the rumors started. How the men, young even then, would become attracted to the same woman. They would pursue her, seduce her, share her among them.
The women they chose were experienced enoug
h to enjoy such play, but they were also gossips, relishing in the shocked gasps their tales brought. Sarah’s father had been sympathetic, but she remembered several occasions when he had warned her to steer clear of their interest.
They were sinfully handsome. Dark, lusty, so sexy it made a woman’s heart beat fast just to look at them. Sighing deeply, denying the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, she looked around the dimly lit kitchen. She was home, and she was alone. Brock was gone.
“Goodbye,” she whispered to the empty room, and she wondered if she were saying goodbye to the man, or to a young girl’s empty dreams.
* * * * *
Work. She worked because she wanted to. Because she enjoyed it. The inheritance her father had left her on his death had been hidden from Mark, thanks to her father’s careful planning, rather than her own. Her mother’s portion had been all Mark had known about. Unknown to her ex-husband, she wasn’t as broke as he believed she was.
The library afforded her a peace, a solitude in what she did, and there were rarely any hassles. Until today. Brock August sat casually at one of the front desks, a newspaper spread in front of him, his eyes watching her possessively. His dark lashes lay at half-mast, the gray-blue orbs watching her with a hint of promise, or threat. She wasn’t certain which. He was too handsome, with his long black hair laying almost to his shoulders, and disheveled from the repeated times his fingers had run through it. Each time she saw the gesture she was reminded of the countless times she had run her fingers through those silken strands as well.
He had been there most of the day. She refused to speak to him and he didn’t speak to her. If curious patrons approached him, they quickly left. It made Sarah nervous, the way he watched her. He had seen her naked, had heard her screams, and it was there in every look he gave her.
