by Nancy Gideon
A black Stetson dropped onto the table top.
“I think he’ll probably believe his own ears,” Rueben Guedry announced as he settled in beside Mia. “Cousin, you’ve looked better.”
“But I’m feeling pretty damned good at the moment.” Mia accepted his kiss on her colorful cheek.
“I was just spinning a story to draw her out,” Thorne began, still trying to rise to the top like an oily film. “She’s been conspiring with her lover and these traitors to kill you and destroy our hope of peace.”
“Is that right?” Rueben drawled. “Maybe I’d believe that if not for my new friend here.” He gestured to MacCreedy. “Happen he got to wondering about your name, Thorne, and about someone he knows from the North, name of Hawthorne. A coincidence? Maybe. Except with a little persuasion, this Hawthorne was recalled to a student of his, a class or two ahead of Mr. MacCreedy’s wife. A kid with no name, so this Hawthorne gave him his. The perfect student̶no conscience, no fear, no allegiance̶ trained and sent to infiltrate, but instead of just reporting and doing the occasional killing, he got caught up in the role, got to thinking why live as a slave when he could thrive as a leader? You, Mr. Thorne, have been a significant pain in my ass for long enough. Make your apologies and say your last good-byes.”
Mia had gotten Colin’s text saying he was on his way home with a surprise, to expect him around five. Checking her watch for the dozenth time, she considered calling but figured if he was still in the air, she’d seem overanxious.
Everything about Colin Terriot made her foolish and giddy and hungry for the sight, scent and taste of him. She prowled their small house, checking the floral arrangement, turning the bottle in the ice bucket, stopping in front of the mirror to look for flaws in her appearance. She wore a nearly see-through black lace top over skin-tight leather pants. Five-inch heels would bring her within quick kissing range, if she stretched. She’d pouffed and parted her heavy black hair on the side so it cascaded about her shoulders in careless, finger-combed waves in anticipation of his sinking into it. Her makeup was perfect, every blemish disguised with troweled-on foundation. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that past the deep red slick of her lips or the sultry outline of eyes suggesting “Take me to bed now.”
She heard the T-bird’s gutsy rumble, her own pulse picking up that same rough thunder. By the time his key triggered the lock, she was out of the blocks like a sprinter, racing across the living room to launch into his arms with the intent of sucking his pouty lips off.
“Mia—” he managed around the deep thrust of her tongue. Then his hands were all over her, at her elbows, at her waist, at her hips.
Between her devouring kisses, she demanded, “Take to me bed, you big, hot stud, so I can ride you hard all night long!”
“Mia!”
They weren’t alone! He wasn’t trying to grope her in like urgency. He was struggling to pull her off. Because three wide-eyed girls stood behind him with their jaws hanging.
Mia shoved away from him as if he’d caught fire, snatching her coat off the rack by the door to shroud her near nakedness.
“We’ve got company,” he announced, smile playing about his lipstick-stained mouth.
“So, I see. What a nice surprise. Kate, I know. This must be Lucy and June.”
Trying to cover their snickers, the girl each shook her hand politely while Colin watched the four of them, so filled up with emotion he feared his chest would explode. Then he got a glimpse of what Mia was wearing, the champagne cooling, and realized he’d stumbled into something not meant for PG-13 eyes.
“We’re staying with Colin for two weeks,” June announced.
“Here?” Mia’s gaze flew up to his in question. “I mean, that’s wonderful.”
He grinned at her flustered attempt at a smile. “Out at Savoie’s. They’re expecting us.”
“I-I’d better change then,” she muttered, dashing for the bedroom.
“Girls, have a seat. I need to talk to Mia a second.” Ignoring Lucy’s snort and Kate’s cooing, “Don’t take too long, stud,” he followed his mate.
She’d grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweater out of their recently integrated dresser and was stepping out of her very high, very hot shoes.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’m so embar—”
He snatched her up, swallowing down her apologies with an explicit kiss as his hands did some serious appreciation of her lacy blouse. “Is this for me?”
“No, the mailman.” She arched into him. “You should have given me a heads up.”
“Surprise.” He grinned as she swatted at him then glanced toward the closed door. “Do you think we could—”
“No!”
“What am I going to do with this?” He rubbed his engorged crotch against her.
“Put it away.”
“Where? In my wallet?”
She laughed. “You know girls love a big, bulging wallet.”
He puffed out a breath and simply held her close. “Did I ruin something special? I could hear Do me, baby chilling out there in that bucket.”
“Just wanted to give you something nice to come home to.”
To come home to. His throat tightened as he stroked his fingertips down her cheek. “You couldn’t give me anything nicer than this.” He leaned down for some long, wooing tongue action.
She held his head down so their skin touched, her whisper brushing warm against his ear. “Yes, I could. And I will. Later.” She shoved him away. “Get out of here. Watching me change my clothes will not make your wallet bend easier.”
He laughed. “Before I forget. Here.” He took off his father’s ring and placed it solemnly back on her thumb. “I need you to hold this for me. Forever. And this.” He took off one of the hefty Terriot diamonds and secured it in her ear. “Kind of a new tradition in our family. I like it.”
She touched the weighty jewel, her eyes glittering just as brightly. “I like it, too. You told your family.”
“I did. They survived the news. And so did I.”
“All of them?” She glanced toward the living room.
“I thought we’d do that together.”
Colin glanced in his rearview. Here were all the things his heart desired. June, who’d called shotgun, rode next to him in front. He’d had to slap at her hand with a stern reminder that driver picked tunes. Mia sat in back, flanked by his other two sisters. As they excitedly planned two weeks of shopping, hair and nails, restaurants, movies, and all the other things girls did when let loose for the first time in a big city, her dark eyes lifted, their gazes holding for a moment that promised a lifetime before Colin was called back to the road ahead. Precious cargo onboard. Eyes front.
The girls had greeted their news with ecstatic squeals, hugs and tears. The tears, embarrassingly, mostly his. They were awed by the gorgeous and strong females in Savoie’s house-the stunning Brigit St. Clair; the exotic Charlotte Caissie, Savoie’s police detective wife; and, the sleekly lethal Nica MacCreedy, role models they weren’t allowed to have under their mother’s rule. Colin saw nothing but positives coming their way from this trip. Mia and Brigit’s chumminess came as a surprise, story to follow when they got home, Mia promised.
While the girls raced upstairs to call dibs on their favorite room, Colin wrapped his mate up in his arms at the foot of the stairs while the others gathered in the dining room.
“Everything okay here while I was gone?”
Mia leaned back, smiling up at him over her shoulder, the glint in her bottomless dark eyes promising a more interesting story than, “Everything’s fine.” Her hands rubbed over the backs of his. “You look happy.”
“I am. I’ve got absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted.”
She smiled, sighing contentedly as her body relaxed along his solid form. She’d pressed his palms over her middle and was gently massaging the backs of them when he felt it again, that same odd flutter of energy he’d sensed from her before he left. The warm, compelling vigor of . . . a
nother life?
“Mia?”
His hoarse little whisper had her looking up in concern until she saw his expression. “You’ve got that dopey look on your face again, DB.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure everything was all right first, considering.”
Considering the beating she’d taken. Fear leapt inside him. “Is it? Are you? Are . . . both of you okay?”
“We’re awesome.” She glanced away as the noisy trio descended the stairs. “Shall we tell them?”
“Not yet,” he managed in a shaky voice. “Not until I get a hold of it. And a hold of you.”
They passed on the invitation for dinner, feeling safe to sneak away after watching the girls’ interaction with the adults in the house. Brigit they adored, the other two had them star-struck.
Silas walked them out.
“Things okay with the family?” he asked Colin, attuned to his strange mood.
“Very okay. It can wait until tomorrow.”
“We’ll have lots to talk about,” Silas promised, sending a wink Mia’s way.
Another time, Colin would have demanded an accounting. On this night, he didn’t give a damn about anything except getting down the road and turned off onto that little side track he’d noticed on the way in.
He’d dreamed of doing Mia Guedry in the backseat of the T-bird since the moment he caressed that sleek red leather with his gaze. But now that he had her straddling his lap, her lips soft and expressive upon his own, a quick rush to the finish was the last thing on his mind.
His hands kneaded her rear, finding the firm curves irresistible, just like the bountiful spill over the top of her bra that he adored with the stroke of his tongue. The low purr of her contentment was as sexy as the T-bird's well-tuned carburetor.
He'd left the radio on and began singing along with Steve Miller's “New Kind of Love,” taking the words about being ready to settle down to heart as he crooned, "So c'mon pretty baby, we're gonna raise a family."
"I love you, Colin."
"Yeah? Good, cuz I'm gonna knock your socks off tonight," he quoted from the song.
Instead of showing appreciation for the sentiment, her mood grew serious. "We still have to figure out how to build a strong platform our clans can trust and get behind."
"James is out of the picture. That's a start." And easing down the zipper of her jeans was one, too.
"And so is my big problem." MacCreedy insisted she let him tell that story at breakfast when they met the next morning. As her fingers worked their way down the buttons of his shirt, she lifted so he could skim the snug denim down her legs and warm her bare skin with the chafe of his palms. "But we still have a lot of uncertainties. Like the Patrol."
"I've got an idea about that."
"What is it?"
"I've got other ideas I need to express first, ’cuz my wallet’s killing me." His thumbs worked their way beneath the leg openings of her panties. When she rocked her hips and moaned, he gave that sassy grin. "There are more ideas where that came from. This is just the first of many."
"I like the way you think." She smiled, the gesture flooding her gaze with pleasure. "Abel Daniel Terriot."
His breath caught. "A son? We're having a boy?"
Mia beamed. "We are. To wear your father’s ring. He’ll be the first of many more, I hope."
When he remained speechless, she cupped his gorgeous face in her hands and took full advantage of those delicious lips while softened in surprise. He still stared at her unblinkingly when she lifted away.
"I know this wasn't planned," she added hurriedly in case he had doubts. "I know there's a ton of issues we need to sort through. We've got a tug-of-war with our families. We've got to find a balance between politics and our private life . . ." She paused. "You've got that look again, the dopey one. Aren't you worried about any of this? Colin?"
"Just one thing."
"Just one? What?"
"We're gonna need a bigger house."
A Sneak Peek from
PRINCE OF FOOLS
“House of Terriot” Book 3
Prologue
The sound of innocent, girlish laughter teased Frederick Terriot back from the doorstep of hell.
He'd balanced there all night, still, stoic and barely breathing, enduring the fatigue, the slashing rain, and the taunts of his brothers. One by one, they gave up or gave out until only two remained. Just him and Colin.
A grueling three days of physical tests culminated in this last tortuous effort. The twelve princes in the House of Terriot, schooled to ignore pain, to push beyond exhaustion, had perched on evenly spaced posts the previous morning, barefoot, wearing only cammo fatigues and tee shirts to balance there without rest, without water or sustenance, while holding a sand-filled jug in each hand with arms outstretched in front of them. Easy peasy . . . for a while. By dark, their number had halved, and over that brutal evening, was halved again. And now just two of the twelve remained.
How that must have irritated Colin as the pinks of dawn became the hot glare of near noon. Considering his brother's crushing humiliation not just before their siblings but also their instructor, Colin's revered step-father, kept Rico going even after the other favorite, Turow, had succumbed to a leg cramp several hours before.
No one expected the screw up, the goof off, to shine equal to Abel Conroy's golden boy.
Rico slid a look at his brother. Colin stood steady and strong, more chiseled monument than 13-year-old male. There'd be no shame in losing to him, but no satisfaction, either. Though his arms trembled, his back ached and his legs had gone numb, he determined to stick it out just a little bit longer.
To distract himself from his misery, Rico followed the playful sounds to the rocky edge of Lake Tahoe. Colin's two young half-sisters played along the shoreline under the supervision of his step-father's oldest son. Anson, who held the baby of the family in his arms, had attracted the attention of several flirtatious females who cooed at the child and made eyes at the young man. None paid any attention to the grueling trial going on . . . or to the two little girls hopping from stone to stone along the choppy water before racing down their family's dock. Rico and Colin were the only ones facing the lake. Alert to the potential danger, they exchanged quick glances.
Colin cleared his throat roughly. "Sir, permission to speak."
Conroy's attention slashed to his step-son in surprise, brows lowering in ill-concealed disappointment. "Denied. You know better. Hold your position or forfeit."
Colin hesitated, torn as he looked again toward the dock. His balance wavered. "Sir-"
"Hold or forfeit!"
Colin firmed up his posture, staring straight ahead. Stunned, Rico held his position, too, but his attention remained divided.
Still grinning over what one of the young ladies had said, Anson glanced toward his sisters, yelling, "Lu, Katy, slow down before you break your necks! Get back up here so I can keep an eye on you." Then he turned away before his orders were obeyed.
That second of inattentiveness was all it took. A misstep on a slick board, and Lucy Conroy disappeared.
Colin had to have heard Rico grab a quick, startled breath, but he didn't react. He remained eyes front, position locked. He wasn't going to do anything!
Stare riveted to the glassy surface where five-year old Lucy had gone under, Rico leapt from his post, knees buckling, barely holding him as he scrambled toward the shore. Too long without water, he couldn't force an alarm from tight vocal cords. He raced past a surprised Anson, down the dock where little Kate stood motionless, studying the water curiously. And he went in. It was deep and cold, shocking his already abused body into momentary unresponsiveness. Then he dove, outstretched hands searching wildly until they brushed against the smooth nylon of the little girl's coat. For an instant, he couldn't force his cramped fingers to close. Then arms were about his neck and he pushed off the bottom, breaking the surface, struggling to lift the girl up so a ver
y pale Colin, who now knelt on the dock, could grab her. She clung to her brother, coughing and crying his name frantically, leaving Rico to flounder and find his own way out.
Abel flung a blanket about both step-son and hysterical daughter, his arm around Colin in support as a shamefaced Anson scurried behind them on their way up from the water’s edge to their family compound high above, stuttering apologies as he carried both the baby and his other whimpering sister.
Pulse still banging furiously, Rico stood shivering on the dock. He'd won nothing on this day, no prize, no praise. He had no one to worry over him or applaud his accomplishments and quick thinking. No one would remember that he’d gone into the water, only that Colin was there to lift his sister out. All his efforts would be forgotten. The man he worshipped, the brother he admired, the girls he adored wouldn't give him another thought as he stood alone and invisible.
He had no family, no one to go home to. All he had was the name Terriot. And today, as in all those that came before it, he would trade one for the other in a lonely heartbeat.
PRINCE OF FOOLS,
Book 3 in the “House of Terriot” series.
Coming in the fall of 2017.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Gideon is the award-winning, bestselling author of 60 romances ranging from historical, regency and series contemporary suspense to paranormal, with a couple of horror screenplays tossed into the mix. She’s also published under the pen names Dana Ransom, Rosalyn West and Lauren Giddings. She works full time as a legal assistant in Central Michigan, and when not at the keyboard, feeds a Netflix addiction along with all things fur, fin and fowl. For more information on the author, her books, or the “House of Terriot” and “By Moonlight” series, visit Nancy online at:
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