Beautiful, complicated, desirable, elusive Cara. His hand went to the back of his neck and rubbed absently. Their time together, if not exactly physically satisfying, had been full, even fun. Killara offered a myriad of things to do, and Cara seemed to enjoy the ranch as much as he did. He had even flown her into Tucson for a shopping trip to augment the small amount of clothing she had brought with her on her impulsive flight from Paris.
Looking back on that day, Burke shook his head in bemusement. Shopping with Cara was like shopping with no other woman, but then, if he had given the matter thought beforehand, he would have realized it would be so. She had breezed through the shops very fast, trying nothing on, choosing, seemingly at random, a top from one store, a skirt from another, a dress from this rack, a scarf from that shelf. They had finished in half the time he had expected, and they flew back to the ranch with the late afternoon left for a ride.
All the activity to the contrary, though, Burke could tell that Cara was restless. Neither of them spoke of the fact that the two weeks she had promised to stay were up. At her request her rental car was still parked on Killara, and every time he saw it, his frustration level climbed higher.
Soon, he promised himself, soon she would be his, and he would take his fill of her to the point of satiation. And then maybe his life could get back to normal. Why, he wondered, did the thought depress him so?
Dressing for dinner on Killara was the custom and Burke hadn’t changed from the black pants and silk shirt he had worn earlier. He had unbuttoned his shirt all the way to the waist, though, because he had felt unbearably hot. Strange. The air circulating through his study was cool.
He got up and wandered to the set of glass doors that led out to the back of the house. Every night a computer-controlled exterior lighting system transformed the pool and garden area into a wonderland. But with the exception of himself, very few people ever took the opportunity to enjoy it. He gave the area a cursory scan, suddenly drawing in his breath. Tonight it seemed someone else was enjoying it: Cara.
* * *
The night had drawn her to it, offering solace from the disturbing thoughts and feelings that were wreaking havoc with her emotional wellbeing. With every day that passed her nerves wound tighter and tighter. Killara gave her a peace she hadn’t known in years, yet its master confused and bewildered her as much as he attracted her. At any other time, at any other place, she would simply have solved the problem by packing up and moving on.
And she still might, she assured herself forcibly. Soon.
She threw back her head and gazed up at the sky. Star-studded blackness surrounded her. On the ground, lights hidden by plants offered illumination that didn’t intrude. In the pool the clear, lighted water reflected off turquoise tiles.
Although she had taken off her shoes and underskirt directly after dinner, she had somehow never gotten around to changing completely. Consequently she still had on the silver lame skirt and gray cashmere top she had worn for dinner. She had added a royal purple fringed shawl, though, that she had purchased in Barcelona one fall. Metallic silver threads wove in and out of it and glinted in the moonlight.
The silver lame skirt was ballerina-length and full, so that when she executed an impromptu pirouette, the skirt swung out, then wrapped around her, high up on her thighs. The iridescent fabric shimmered as, laughing, she repeated the pirouette until she was swirling in and out of the shadowed landscape like a lovely young nymph.
Holding her arms out, the corners of the shawl grasped in her hands, she found joy in the night. The fringed shawl billowed out, as she twirled and swayed to some inner music all her own... right into the arms of Burke Delaney.
Powerful and elemental, he had materialized out of the shadows. His green eyes glittered like jewels in the darkness. “Welcome to my web, said the spider to the fly.”
Flushed and breathless, she laughed and turned to whirl away. But he said “No” with a harshness that made her pounding heart beat faster. He caught a portion of her skirt and slowly pulled her back to him.
Burke had denied himself for two weeks, not a long time in the overall scheme of things, but Cara seemed to make normal time alter, curve, bend back in upon itself. Minutes away from her were like hours, and hours with her were like minutes. A need burned hotly within him. There was only one thing he could do.
His mouth crushed hers with all the force of his pent-up desires. The night was clear, but inside him there was a storm. Restraint was a thing of the past. Thinking through his actions didn’t even occur to Burke. The aching, gnawing need had grown to the point where it threatened to consume. His need for her would destroy him, and that couldn’t happen. It must stop! No woman had ever done such a thing to him, and this silver-haired witch wouldn’t be allowed to do it either.
So then why, some dim part of his brain kept asking, did he feel that, when the moment came and he entered her, he would be losing a part of himself?
Burke pushed the thought away as his hands greedily touched her. She brought out all his possessive instincts, he realized. He wanted to burn her flawless skin with the imprint of his hands so that no other man would ever touch her. He wanted to hold her so tightly, there would be no way she could ever leave his arms.
In his arms Cara was not a thinking person. She surrendered, allowing reason to flee and unbearable pleasure to rush in. A sweet, pulsing intensity throbbed through her as he pushed up the cashmere sweater and cupped her breasts.
“Lord, but you’re firm,” he murmured hoarsely. “You don’t even need to wear a bra. And your nipples are so hard!” He took one and rolled it between two sure fingers. “It’s like they were made for my mouth.”
She didn’t know how she remained standing. When his tongue replaced his fingers, she began to tremble wildly and had to cling to his broad shoulders as the magic and mystery of their attraction pulsed through her.
His mouth returned to hers, and he pulled her bare breasts against the hard warmth of his chest. Boldly his hand moved to her hips, pulling up her skirt until he could stroke her buttocks through the silken panties.
Silk. Everywhere he touched was silk.
Why were they still standing? she wondered vaguely. She wanted to lie down with him, to feel the weight of his body upon hers. She started to pull away so that they could lie down somewhere, anywhere, and continue this wonderful lovemaking.
Misinterpreting her action, Burke made a growling noise of protest deep in his throat, and his hands tightened on her. “No! You’re not going to get away this time. I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you belong to me.”
Cara heard his words in the back of her head as a faint echo that became louder and louder, until her brain clicked back into use. Make. He was using her passion for him as a means to compel her to give in to him, and she couldn’t let it happen. She had fashioned her lifestyle of freedom very carefully, and to Burke it was an alien lifestyle. He was not a man to touch lightly and then let go. His life had made him hard, tenacious, possessive. He was a man other men walked in fear of. She had read about the bloody battles of his successful takeovers of companies. She would not be taken over, by Burke or by anyone. Panic welled up in her. He was a primal force attempting to overpower her, and Cara had to get away.
“Let me go!” She pushed against him, and in his surprise he released her.
With chest heaving, he watched in anger and frustration as she ran from him, around the pool and into the enveloping darkness. He knew better than to go after her. He was too angry, too frustrated. With her. With himself.
He let out a string of violent curses. Just when he thought he had her, she had once again slipped away from him, as elusive as ever. Quicksilver.
His hands clenched tightly into hard fists, and the emerald on his finger glittered intensely. He stood where he was for a long time. Incapable of moving, his body attempting to deal with the physical pain, his mind trying to recover its sanity.
Sometime later the sound of his phone ringing reac
hed him from the open doors of his study. Slowly he turned and went to answer it.
Five
Because of a sleepless night it was late afternoon before Cara awoke, finally rested. She dressed and wandered down to the kitchen, uncertain of whether she wanted to find Burke there or not. Burke wasn’t there, but Bridget was.
“Cara!” Bridget shooed a young housemaid out the door and turned. “I’ve been worried. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, and I’m sorry I worried you. It’s just that I—I stayed up rather late last night and I decided to rest today.”
Bridget raised her eyebrows, obviously skeptical. “When Mr. Burke came in for lunch, I told him that you must be sickening for something, now didn’t I?”
“Did you?” Cara plopped down in a chair and looked around the kitchen without interest.
The housekeeper nodded emphatically. “It’s a fact. And do you know what he said?”
“No.”
“He said to just let you sleep. So I did, but I thought it was awfully strange, now didn’t I?” She folded her hands across her apron-clad stomach and fixed Cara with an eagle-eyed stare.
“Bridget, do you suppose I could have a cup of coffee?” She didn’t really want a cup of coffee, but it was the best way she knew to get Bridget off the subject of her sleeping all day.
“Why, of course! Faith! What am I thinking of, I’d like to know? Let’s see.” She tapped one finger against her cheek. “What else would you like to have? Something light, I’ll warrant. I have some blueberry muffins left from this morning. Now, how does that sound?”
“Fine, fine,” she murmured. glancing out the window and wondering where Burke was. “Where did you say Burke was?”
Bridget set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of her. “I didn’t.” Patting nonexistent stray red hairs into place, she eyed Cara thoughtfully. “I couldn’t say where he is at this very moment. But he’s been in and out all day, getting ready to leave, now hasn’t he?”
“Leave?” Cara almost upset her coffee cup.
“Leave.” Bridget nodded, wisking a dishcloth from some place unseen to wipe up the few drops of coffee that had sloshed over the cup’s rim and onto the table. “Mr. York called him last night and said he needed him. Mr. Rafe will be flying to Hell’s Bluff too, I understand, from Shamrock.” She clicked her tongue. “I’m just hoping there’s nothing wrong up there, now aren’t I?”
“Do you think there is?”
“I don’t know, do I? I suppose if something were really wrong, Mr. Burke would have left immediately. They have an elaborate system of alarms, you know. The system connects Killara, Delaney Tower, Shamrock, and Hell’s Bluff. In extreme emergencies there’s no need for a phone call. They just drop everything and go where they’re needed. It’s quite something to see in action, now isn’t it?”
“Where exactly is Hell’s Bluff?”
Bridget harrumphed. “In some godforsaken spot in the Santa Catalina Mountains. I often say—”
“It’s no fit place for man nor beast.” Burke finished for her as he strode into the kitchen. “What I don’t understand is why you say it. You’ve never even been there.”
“Anyplace with the name of Hell’s Bluff can’t be good, up in the mountains and all! Mr. York has always had such poor health—”
“He’s a grown man, Bridget.” Burke interrupted gently. “and as strong as a horse now. We don’t need to protect him any longer.”
The older woman’s expression softened. “I know you’re right. But old habits die hard. I’ve often told Mr. York he should come home, now haven’t I?”
“I think you’ve mentioned it a time or two.” Burke said dryly, then turned his dark green eyes on Cara. “How are you?”
It was a loaded question, Cara thought, and she had no idea what the answer was. “Fine.”
His jaw tightened. “I suppose Bridget told you that I’m flying to Hell’s Bluff this afternoon.”
She nodded. “Yes.” She wanted to ask if he was leaving because of what had happened between the two of them the night before. Instead she asked, “How long will you be gone?”
“Just overnight.” He hesitated, and Cara’s heart lodged in her throat. Would he say anything personal to her? she wondered. What would he do if she told him that she understood his frustration, because it perfectly matched her own? Would he believe her and take her in his arms as she longed for him to do? Neither one spoke. Wide gray eyes held dark green ones.
“Mr. Burke? Would you be wanting any supper before you leave?”
“What?” He jerked his attention back to Bridget. “Oh, no, thanks. As a matter of fact. I’d better get going.” He threw Cara a final look, then turned and left the room.
Cara slumped down in the chair. What had she expected? she asked herself. He must be absolutely furious with her. He hadn’t asked her if she was going to stay. He obviously didn’t even care whether she would still be here when he got back. The thought cut into her with the pain of a dull knife.
* * *
Cara didn’t leave. Instead, she and Shalimar roamed Killara. And when the sun set and the land was completely dark, she came back to the great house and walked its corridors, her thoughts her only company.
She and Burke had led very different lives. He had grown up surrounded by a stable and loving family. He had had a centuries-old Norman keep for a playhouse. His heritage was land that had been in his family for generations. Things and people lasted in his life. Even now, the people he most depended on were his brothers. And evidently his brothers depended on him too. When one of them had called, he had gone immediately.
For her it was completely different. After she had been taken from Killara, she had had no one except her mother. And her mother was the most unstable and self-involved person she knew. She firmly believed her mother had never meant to harm her—she just hadn’t cared enough not to. Consequently life had taught Cara to be afraid to reach out and hold on to something for more than a moment. It had taught her, “Never mind tomorrow: it’s not even today that counts. It’s the moment that’s important.”
And although Burke didn’t see life in the same way as she, he had an equally cynical outlook on love. She was quite sure that the longevity of any of Burke’s affairs could be measured in weeks. And she had never even had one.
Since she had slept most of the day, Cara wasn’t tired. At two o’clock in the morning she took a swim. At three o’clock she made herself a snack. At four o’clock she put a movie on the VCR. But by five o’clock she was lying in her bed, her thoughts slowly beginning to crystallize.
It was as if she had been feeling her way through a maze whose walls were made of innumerable problems and questions. And she had been doing it blindly, using only her instincts. It seemed to have taken her an awfully long time to make her way through the maze, but at last she could see the way out.
She had believed that she had seen her future in her mother, but she had been wrong. Now she knew for certain: In her life she would not take a series of lovers nor would she have a number of husbands.
There would be only one man, one lover, for her in her entire life—Burke Delaney.
Their affair would end, of course. Nothing lasted. And life would eventually offer her other things. But it would never again offer her someone like Burke Delaney. So she would take this love affair, and she would remember it as a series of golden moments—moments in the sun.
Gradually her eyelids drifted downward, and she was sound asleep when Burke flew home just after sunrise.
* * *
Bridget met Burke at the door and gasped with concern at his appearance. His left cheek was swollen and bruised and an angry red cut slashed over his right eyebrow. “Mr. Burke! What happened?”
“Nothing serious. Just a minor skirmish.” His eyes darted searchingly around the entrance hall.
“And Mr. York and Mr. Rafe? Are they all right?”
Brief humor flashed across his face before a wince of
pain forced the smile away. “Have you ever known a Delaney to lose a fight, Bridget? Where is she?”
“I suppose you’re speaking of Cara?”
“Bridget,” he repeated, not gently. “where is she?”
The housekeeper’s eyebrows rose all the way to her red hairline. “Well, if it is Cara you’re speaking of, she’s got her days and nights mixed up. Poor lass, I don’t think she slept a wink last night. Though I peeked in on her just a few minutes ago and found her sleeping like a babe, didn’t I though?”
“Thanks, Bridget. I’d like some breakfast in about thirty minutes. I have a lot of work to do today.”
“Do you now?” Bridget asked, but Burke didn’t answer her because he was already bounding up the stairs two at a time. Bridget watched his ascent. There was something powerful eating away at the man, she reflected, and work was his way of dealing with it. And fighting. That was the way of the Delaney men, and she should know. Hadn’t she known the three of them since they were just wee babes in arms? Yes, she had! Patting her hair, she turned and hurried away. If Mr. Burke wanted breakfast, then he got breakfast, didn’t he?
Burke quietly opened the door of Cara’s bedroom and stepped in. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Briefly he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. She lay in a deep sleep, her breathing even and slow. Sunlight slanted in the windows, falling softly across her golden-skinned limbs and touching gilt to her silver hair.
Even now, seeing her, he had trouble acknowledging the fear he had felt since he had been away from her. Pride had kept him from asking her if she would still be here when he returned. Pride had kept him away from the telephone all night. But the question had remained, eating away at him until he thought he would go mad if he didn’t get back.
Lying on the pearl-gray satin sheets, wearing an ice-blue silk teddy, she looked so damn sexy. But, Burke reminded himself, she was untouched, a virgin. When she had first told him, he had been shaken. How could someone who could fire his blood so easily be a virgin? he wondered. But the more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to his inherent possessiveness.
Burke, the Kingpin (The Shamrock Trinity) Page 7
