The Rebel's Return

by Gina Wilkins

  Unfortunately, all her old feelings for Lucas were being brought to the surface, as well.

  He caught her wrist and pulled her gently back down to the quilt. “Do you want some more coffee?”

  She shook her head, folding her legs to one side. “No. We need to talk more about what I found. We should try to decide what, if anything, we need to do about it. We should...”

  “First, there’s something I want to give you.” Lucas reached beneath the bench on the wall and brought out a small, wrapped package.

  Rachel stared at it. “You brought something for me?”

  “It’s Christmas,” he reminded her with a very faint smile.

  She had been so lost in the past, so disturbed by the discovery of her father’s wallet that she had almost forgotten what day it was. She certainly hadn’t expected Lucas to give her a Christmas present.

  “Open it.”

  Her fingers were unsteady as she removed the white ribbons and peeled away the red foil paper. A moment later, her eyes flooded with tears, blurring her vision of the leather-bound first-edition book of poetry Lucas had given her.

  The memories had been hard enough to hold at bay before. Now, here in the rock house with Lucas at her side and a book of love poems in her hands, Rachel couldn’t stop them from filling her mind.

  Hungry kisses. Whispered promises. Shared secrets. Youthful dreams. Love so pure and so strong it had felt almost tangible, and had seemed destined to last a lifetime.

  She didn’t realize there was a tear on her cheek until she felt Lucas’s thumb wiping it away.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured. “I thought you might like it.”

  “I do like it,” she whispered, gripping the slender volume more tightly.

  “Rachel...”

  “I have a life, Lucas. I received a college degree, established a successful career, made a home for myself in Atlanta. I have friends. Goals. I almost got married once.”

  “Almost?” he murmured, his lips moving against her temple, his breath warm on her skin.

  She shivered, and she couldn’t blame the reaction on the cool December morning air. “I changed my mind. But my point is, I moved on. I left Honoria—and you—in the past. I’m not the same person I was fifteen years ago.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “No.” But she was still fascinated by him. Still drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain and could certainly not deny.

  He kissed her cheek. Her jaw. Turned her face toward him and brushed his lips over hers.

  She was tired. Confused. Emotionally battered. She told herself she shouldn’t be carried away under those circumstances, that this was a time for caution. Distance.

  Lucas removed all remaining distance between them by pulling her into his arms and covering her mouth with his.

  Rachel’s arms went around his neck, all rational thought escaping her.

  So much for caution.

  9

  IT WAS CHILLY in the shelter. Even through the cotton quilt, the stone floor was cold and hard and bumpy beneath their knees. Rachel’s jacket bunched around her, and she still held the book of poetry in her right hand, which dangled behind Lucas’s head.

  She was aware of those trivialities, just as she noticed the smoothness of Lucas’s leather jacket, the faintly citrusy scent of his aftershave, the ragged edge to his breathing. She stored all the details in her mind, knowing she would replay them endlessly later.

  His hands swept her body, plucking impatiently at her heavy clothes, finding pulse points that raced beneath his touch.

  He released her mouth and buried his face in her throat, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  “Rachel.” Her name was a groan. Deep. Hungry. Almost angry.

  Perhaps he resented as much as she did that they could still feel this way about each other. Still want each other so badly even though they knew how much pain they could cause each other.

  She had hurt him. She knew that now. If everything he’d told her was true—and she had no reason to believe it was not—he’d been alone and bewildered, suspected of something he hadn’t done, trapped by a jealous woman’s lies and a small town’s gossip. Turned away by his own father. And when he’d called Rachel, who had promised to love him forever, she had hung up on him.

  No wonder he’d felt he had no choice but to leave town.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I should have given you a chance to tell me what happened.”

  “No.” He lifted his head, his hands gripping her shoulders. “Don’t start blaming yourself now. As you said, you were young. And everything around you was falling apart. To be honest, I’m relieved that you didn’t think me a murderer as well as a philanderer.”

  “But if I’d known...”

  “What would you have done? Would you have told your mother you were in love with the guy she believed had killed her son?”

  “I...”

  “If Packer had found out that Lizzie lied about my alibi, if he’d known that you and I had been seeing each other secretly and that Roger had found out about it, if he’d learned that I told Roger I would kill him before I let him take you away from me, I would probably be in prison today.”

  “If I had talked to you that night when you called, maybe you wouldn’t have left town,” she murmured.

  He lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Maybe that was for the best, too. With me gone, Emily had a chance to make a place for herself here. You went to college and got established in your career. And I started my own business in California which will allow me to live comfortably for the rest of my life.”

  She bit her lip and looked away. “You’re saying that the past is better left alone. That everything is different now.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he muttered, dragging her so close there could be no doubt he wanted her now as badly as he ever had. “Some things haven’t changed at all.”

  He crushed her mouth beneath his, his hands biting into her hips, holding her against him.

  Again, she was struck by the difference in the way he kissed her now. No tentativeness. No holding back. There was no need, now, to make allowances for youth, or inexperience, or girlish hesitation.

  Rachel responded with a woman’s passion. A woman’s hunger. A woman’s need.

  Lucas kissed her until she melted against him. Until she clutched at him and greedily demanded more.

  He stripped her coat off her shoulders and down her arms, tossing it carelessly aside. She didn’t feel the cold through her sweater; in fact, she felt flushed with heat.

  She tugged at his leather jacket, figuring he didn’t need the extra warmth, either.

  Lucas lowered himself to the quilt, tugging her down with him so that she was stretched over him. “No one has ever looked more beautiful to me than you,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “No one else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

  She ran her hands over his face, seeking and finding the differences fifteen years had made in him. The line of his jaw was harder now, more sharply defined. The shallow lines around his eyes and mouth only added to the attractiveness of his face, as far as Rachel was concerned.

  “You were always the best-looking guy in Honoria,” she told him. “You still are.”

  He cupped a hand behind her head and brought her mouth down to his. This kiss held a new tenderness, a sweetness that brought a lump to her throat. This was the Lucas Rachel had fallen in love with so long ago, the Lucas she had never stopped loving.

  He nibbled her lower lip as she gave them both a chance to breathe. His hands slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, his palms cool and rough against her skin. She shivered in pleasure. Lucas draped her more snugly over him. Their bluejeaned legs tangled.

  She tried to maintain some semblance of rationality. “Lucas, what about the wallet? Shouldn’t we...?”

  “There’s nothing we can do about
the wallet now,” he replied, speaking against her lips. “We’ll look into it—later.”

  His right hand slid down her spine to her bottom, pressing her more snugly against the hard ridge beneath his jeans. A moan escaped her before she could swallow it.

  “Lucas.” His mouth was so temptingly close, she couldn’t resist kissing him. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “What’s stopping us?”

  For some reason, she couldn’t think of one good answer. They were here—alone. Neither of them had anywhere else to be at the moment. They were unattached adults, and at least one of them had dreamed about this for years.

  And it was Christmas—which had absolutely nothing to do with anything, except that Rachel was suddenly tempted to give herself a gift she’d been wanting for years.

  Somehow Lucas’s right hand had slipped between them, closing gently around her left breast. Rachel’s breath caught as shattering sensations coursed through her.

  So maybe she would be rational and practical later.

  She pressed her mouth to his again.

  Lucas pushed the lace cup of her bra out of the way, giving him better access to her sensitized nipple. She arched restlessly, her right knee bending, sliding up his leg.

  “You used to slap my hand when I did this,” Lucas said, circling his thumb in a way that made her gasp.

  “Now I’ll slap it if you stop,” she murmured, emphasizing her words with a little wriggle.

  His husky chuckle was a sweet reward. Lucas’s laughter was so rare these days.

  He lifted her higher against him, bringing her breasts level with his mouth. Rachel buried her hands in his hair and closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift on waves of sensation as he nuzzled beneath her sweater, his mouth unexpectedly hot against her tender flesh.

  She didn’t want to think about the past—or the future. She didn’t want to think about buried bracelets or wallets, or long-standing family feuds. She wanted to live in this glorious moment, to fulfill a dream that had been with her almost longer than she could remember.

  He loosened her jeans and slid his hands inside the back waistband, cupping her bottom. Rachel fumbled with the buttons on Lucas’s shirt, wanting the same freedom to touch and explore that she was giving him.

  His chest was hard. Solid. Lightly dusted with dark, soft hair that curled around her fingers when she ran her hands across it.

  She slid downward on his body, pausing to kiss his jaw, his throat, his chest, his stomach. His breath was coming faster now. Rougher. She unsnapped his jeans and his stomach contracted forcefully.

  Lucas was on the verge of losing some of the rigid emotional control he’d developed during the past fifteen years. It gave her a gratifying sense of power to be the one who’d brought him to this point.

  He rolled suddenly, pinning her beneath him on the hard stone floor. She didn’t care about the minor discomfort. Her heart pounded, her breasts ached, and there was a moist, throbbing emptiness between her legs. Lucas loomed over her, his hair tumbling onto his forehead, his dark blue eyes glittering with an almost feral hunger.

  “I’ve dreamed of having you, here, like this,” he muttered. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you sitting in the soda shop so long ago. I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  She reached up with both hands to pull his mouth down to hers. “I want you, too,” she whispered. “Make love with me, Lucas.”

  They were words she had wanted so badly to say before, but had never found the courage until now.

  A look of regret crossed his face. “I wasn’t prepared for this. I didn’t expect to do more than talk with you this morning. I can’t protect you, Rachel.”

  “I protect myself. I’m on the pill.”

  He cupped her face between his hands, looking at her steadily. “Do you want to see my health card?”

  “Is there any reason I should?”

  “No. Hell, I’ve practically been a monk for the past few years. All I seem to do is work and take meetings.”

  His wry tone made her smile. “That sounds familiar. I can hardly remember my last date.”

  Lucas kissed her deeply. Thoroughly. “I hear it’s like riding a bike. Once you’ve gotten the hang of it...”

  She smothered the rest of his joking comment by covering his mouth with hers.

  Lucas’s teasing mood changed as quickly as it had appeared. He was suddenly entirely serious.

  In deference to the cool morning air, they removed only the necessary items of clothing. But Lucas still seemed to touch and claim every inch of her.

  Because of the hard floor, Lucas rolled again to his back, pulling Rachel on top of him to spare her his weight. She wouldn’t have complained, regardless.

  He guided her to him, murmuring words of encouragement and appreciation. All she could say was his name as he thrust deeply, powerfully into her.

  For the first time since Lucas had left Honoria, Rachel felt complete.

  His fingers bit into her hips. His head arched back, revealing his throat to her lips, and the edge of her teeth. He groaned and then gasped, and she knew he was thinking of nothing and no one but her.

  For now—for this one perfect, precious moment—Lucas McBride was hers.

  BUNDLED INTO their jackets, Lucas and Rachel sat side by side on the quilt, sharing the last cup of coffee. They hadn’t said much since their muffled cries of satisfaction had died away. But neither was in a hurry to leave.

  Lucas’s arm rested behind Rachel’s back, keeping her close to his side. She laid her head on his shoulder. “What time is it?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Lucas...”

  He sighed and glanced at his watch. “Almost noon.”

  “Is Emily expecting you for lunch?”

  “I told her not to wait for me. What about your grandmother?”

  “She’s dining with her pastor and his wife. I was invited to join them, but I begged off several days ago. I wasn’t in the mood to spend this Christmas with strangers. My grandmother thinks I’m spending time with old friends today.”

  Lucas kissed her temple. “We could stay here all day.”

  She smiled. “Did you bring food?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll get hungry.”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll get by.”

  She nestled her head on his shoulder again. The euphoria of their lovemaking was beginning to fade a bit, allowing other thoughts to crowd in. Questions about the wallet she’d found among Roger’s possessions. Concerns about the recent attack on Emily and whether it could in any way have been connected to the bracelet she’d worn. Worries about when Lucas would leave again—and whether he would say goodbye this time.

  “Don’t start worrying,” Lucas murmured, seeming to read her mind. “Whatever happened in the past, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “When I saw that wallet last night, I couldn’t help thinking about what Roger said to you. Lucas... what if he was right? What if my father and your stepmother really were killed?”

  “By my father?”

  “Who else? Roger found the things on McBride land. And your father became so angry when you asked about it that he threw you out of his house.”

  “You have to understand, Rachel, that I’m not defending my father out of loyalty and certainly not from affection. I’m not necessarily saying he was morally above murder. I just don’t see him being that passionate, or that reckless. His coldness and his lack of any real emotion toward anyone were his worst flaws. I just can’t see him caring enough about Nadine to have killed her to keep from losing her. More likely, he would have told her the same thing he told me—get out, and stay out.”

  “And that’s what you told Roger?”

  “Yes. And I believed it. I wouldn’t have left Emily with our father if I believed he was a murderer.”

  “But you hadn’t seen the wallet then.”

  “No,” he admitted after a moment. “The
bracelet was easier to dismiss than the wallet.”

  “Isn’t it just possible that Roger’s theory was right?”

  “I suppose it’s possible. Though very unlikely.”

  She tugged at her lower lip, her mind filled with possible scenarios. “What if Nadine killed my father and left town in his car? She could have lost the bracelet in the process.”

  “Again, highly unlikely. Nadine was five-three, maybe a hundred and ten pounds. Your father was six foot, easily two hundred pounds.”

  “A gun is a very effective equalizer.”

  He nodded. “But could she have managed to bury him? If this happened the way you suggested, she had to hide the body so well it hasn’t been found in twenty-four years. And besides, I can’t see Nadine leaving town without a penny to her name. She married my father because she thought he could provide for her. He made a decent salary and she wanted someone to support her so she wouldn’t have to work. The rumors I’ve heard around town suggested that Nadine chose her lovers after her marriage based on how generous they were to her. Cash. Gifts.”

  “Gifts like heavy gold bracelets?”

  “Probably.”

  “Do you think my father gave it to her?”

  “I know my father didn’t. He didn’t do things like that. She’d had the bracelet a long time. As far back as I remember, actually. It was very recognizable, something many people would probably remember in connection to her.”

  “You said Emily found the bracelet after you left. She was wearing it when she was attacked in her house. Did she know it was her mother’s?”

  “I assume she did. The newspaper article identified it as an antique bracelet that had belonged to her mother. The writer must have gotten that from Emily, or from the police report.”

  Rachel lifted her head to look at him. “You haven’t asked her about it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to ruin her Christmas or her upcoming wedding by telling her the things Roger implied about our father. And she seemed so pleased that I’d come back, I didn’t want her to think it was only to find out what had become of the bracelet.”