Love Of A Lifetime

by Murphy, Riley

  But their victims did…

  Chapter Three

  Caught up in his arms, Finley didn’t want to believe she was dreaming. She wanted this to be real, but how could it be? Just the thought that she could matter to a powerful man like Jack Midland was exhilarating. Intoxicating. The things he said. The promises he made. Her heart ached with every one of them. Hadn’t she secretly been waiting for someone like him to find her? How did he know this about her when she’d never told another living soul about her premonitions?

  He’s your ghost.

  Before she could stop herself, she tilted her head back and made the fatal mistake of looking up. Instantly enthralled. His eyes gathered her in and held her hostage as his large shadow cloaked her in a darkness that comforted her like a warm blanket on an icy damp day.

  A man like him couldn't be real. He was too handsome and that was probably why she was unable to take her eyes off him. The fact that he had to duck through the doorway when he entered the hall wasn't lost on her either. And for some strange reason, that made her feel small and protected, as though there was no safer place for her than right here in his arms. But he’s a stranger. A bossy and demanding—demented maybe even, person who was unknown to her.

  Great. Now she was thinking like the journalist she was, and reporting information to herself in third person? Not good. Her ears still buzzed and she was sure she wasn’t thinking straight, but she guessed it had taken no more than a minute before they’d reached a massive wood door that was illuminated by antique gas lanterns. He paused at the threshold and waited until the portal opened, seemingly on its own, and then entered. It was an impressive distance, nearly thirty feet or so, between the door and the bed, and somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking she should be protesting. She was naked and being carried through this gigantic room that housed nothing but that bed. She needed to snap to. Go on the defensive. But as soon as these thoughts came to her, they went by the wayside.

  She focused instead on the bed that stood against the back wall. It was directly centered and raised up on a platform. The mattress was draped on either side with heavy tapestry panels that were tied back with thickly corded rope decorated with beaded tassels.

  She was just thinking about how elegant they were, when suddenly she was bombarded with an overwhelming sense of need. A craving so integral it was more mystical than anything that could be defined by simple feelings. The ache currently thrumming through her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. And the instant he put her down to sink into the feather-fluffed duvet it got worse. More fine-tuned to specific and highly sensitive body parts.

  She panicked. Stretching away from him in an attempt to escape the burn. “I can’t breathe. It’s too much.”

  “No. The problem is, it isn’t enough.” He leaned over and forced her to face him. Until they were nose to nose. With one hand on her belly and the other buried in her hair, he repeated his earlier words in a soft and calm manner, “Breathe deeply, now. Let it in.”

  Cinnamon. That spicy scent drenched her mouth and warmed a path over her tongue, down her throat to her lungs, where it bloomed and flowered until she knew before this very moment in time, she’d never really breathed before. “Mmm…Red Hots are…my…favorites…”

  She writhed and rocked. Wanting so much more than just his hands on her. And when he tugged her hair, sensual chills fueled the passionate fire between her legs. The weight of his palm on her midsection, not pushing or squeezing, just resting there, was a heady aphrodisiac. Because even in this erotic and frazzled state, she knew how well his stillness conveyed all the power that he held in reserve. She felt completely vulnerable and just knowing he could do all that he wanted to her made her shiver.

  “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Captured, she couldn’t turn away as he curled down over her. His warmth wrapped around her, but still she—

  “You’re shaking like a leaf, mia lei.” He rubbed his jaw across her forehead and continued downward as he dragged his chin over her temple, cheek, stopping right next to her mouth, whispering, “I want to taste you.”

  If she thought she was shaking before, now she completely trembled as he shifted, his mouth a scant hair’s breadth away from hers. One touch from his lips and she knew she’d be lost. She closed her eyes. Held her breath and waited for the mystery of him to be solved.

  Heart pounding.

  Pulse hammering.

  She licked her lips. Ready to die.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  His breath was like a sea mist. One moment there and then it was gone, as he quietly swore and let go of her on every front. Which only made the longing inside her grow. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that he was standing. Getting ready to leave her. “Please…”

  His tone was soft, but firm, “I’m sorry. I have to see to this as they won’t go away until I assure them.”

  She opened her eyes and reached out to him when he stepped away. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Please.” But it was too late. Her hand caught nothing but air as the room was already empty.

  Jack swept out of the chamber, down the corridor, and through the hall. His fury was a horrible thing as he disengaged the slide bolt and opened the heavy front door. He let it bang against the interior wall and growled, “It’s too soon. I told you to give me the night.”

  Anyone else confronted by his lethal ire would have quaked and trembled, but not the tall figure who boldly stood eye to eye with him on the front steps. Instead, that lone individual ignored the heavy tension surrounding them and asked, “Is it really her?”

  That hopeful question deflated some of his anger. “Yes.”

  A comfortable silence greeted his assurance and Jack would have turned away, but the interloper cleared his throat and said, “The reporters, all but one believed what we told them.”

  “One? Is it Alt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep him occupied. Is this the only reason you’re out visiting in the storm?”

  “No. We were anxious.”

  “We?” Jack’s eyes narrowed against the swirling snow that flew like white dust between them. The icy flecks that landed on his skin felt like tiny needles, pin-pricking his cheeks and throat. Squinting, he waited for the solemn figure to step aside and when he did, Jack groaned. Off in the distance, in the storm darkened woods, stood a very familiar pack of seven. “You’re all here, then?” He turned his sharp attention back to the one on the porch.

  “Yes. We want to know—”

  “It’s too soon. I need more time. Have you no faith?” When no reply was made, he scowled. “Go back up to Gilby Hall and entertain those men. Especially Alt. I’ll send word when it’s done.” He held up his hand, thinking he was going to be interrupted. “And,” he stared hard, “No more intrusions. The next one to try will pay for it. Understood?”

  The covered figure inclined his head and turned to leave, but Jack didn’t bother to watch him make his way back to the glen where the restless group waited. Instead, he spun around, stepped back into the manor, and slammed the portal shut with such force that it quivered against its hinges. He brought a hand to rest against it, feeling the residual vibrations, while his other hand plowed through his hair.

  Why did they try his patience? Didn’t they know the truth?

  Finding her had been the easy part. And now that he had, how was he going to do what he must, knowing that the very act itself put them one step closer to tearing them apart? Would she understand and forgive him?

  Just thinking about this made him nervous.

  He didn’t like feeling nervous.

  He sighed. How could it be that with every lifetime she became more beautiful? Damn, that skin of hers, so soft and enticing with that perfect little mole right over her sensuous lips. And those eyes. Big, blue and sexy as fuck when he got near her. Too tempting...so tempting that all that he’d wanted to do, once he caught sight of her at noon, was take her to their bed and ravi
sh her. He shook his head over that. Just who the hell was in control here?

  He eyed the ancient wood door and frowned. There was a time that with one dark look from him, she’d sink prettily to her knees and crawl to him to beg for his slightest touch. That erotic image from ages past made him hard, hot and wary. Oh, he knew it was a gamble to use the one thing, the only thing, they still had between them, their physical attraction for each other, but it was all he had. Would it even be enough of a connection to breach the distance and mend the damage that had been done?

  Judging from her thoughts he was picking up on? Maybe not. Shit, he better get back in there before she hurt herself.

  Finley was luxuriating in the comfort of the huge bed. Soft, soft silk and puffy feather pillows. This sure beat her futon and the throw cushions she’d gotten on sale at her local department store last fall. Sliding over the velvety duvet, she tried to ignore the intrusive images of reality that flashed in and out of her consciousness. She didn’t want to think about her tiny studio apartment with all those overdue bills that took up most of the limited counter space in her kitchen. But then she recalled the last two purchase slips that topped the pile and frowned. Her new boots and coat…and now they were stolen and she was—her eyes snapped open—naked and purring like a cat in heat all over Jack Midland’s bed? Sure she was desperate to land this interview. Hadn’t she banked on it to pull her out of the financial hole she was in? She had, but that didn’t mean she was going to sleep with him.

  Right then the devil on her shoulder screamed, Come on, Fin. You might have had to think twice about this if he was Quasimodo’s twin, but did you see the guy? Cement the deal. Get inside information. Use your body.

  “Shit, you really are the devil,” she muttered, completely disgusted with that part of herself because she was tempted. And now that she had her possible motive nailed for this bizarre interaction playing out like it had, she turned her sights on his.

  For some reason, she fixated on the magnificent chandelier that hung directly over the bed. The light it cast was dim, almost hazy and the cut-crystal teardrops sparkled like wet diamonds, reflecting various jewel tone colors over the ceiling and walls. It was perfect. Not too bright, but bright enough.

  She sat up and while she hastily gathered the duvet for cover, she had a look around. Cream damask drapes lined the back wall behind the bed and the two full walls to her right and left. In front of her, what space wasn’t taken up by a colossal fireplace—that rivaled the one in the study—was covered in beautiful ivory and black paisley wallpaper. The design gave her the creeps for no other reason than this was the exact style she’d cut out of a picture in Cosmo to add to her if-I-ever-win-the-lottery folder. Come to think of it…

  She scrambled over to the edge of the bed, taking the duvet with her as she examined the heavily beaded tassels on the tie-backs. “Okay, what the fuck is going on here?” It was an original Nobilis-Fontan decoration and it was also the twin to the one she’d drooled over as she’d covertly tore the photo out of a copy of US Designer Magazine she’d been flipping through at her dentist office two weeks ago. What were the odds?

  A cabillion-zillion to one. Had Jack Midland gotten a hold of her secret lotto folder?

  She dropped the cord and the heavy trim hit the drape with a bang. It wasn’t until she felt around the curtain she realized there was a night table hidden in it. She looked over her shoulder. Yep, she could tell by the bow in the fabric that the other side had one too. “Now why would Midland want to hide these?”

  Turning her attention back to the one closest to her, she pulled on the fabric and exposed a black mahogany table. One quick check and she had her answer. These pieces flanking the bed would have looked odd with no lamps on them. Spying the telltale circular worn mark on this one, she frowned. The idea that he’d purposely staged this space came to her and her eyes followed her rapidly firing thoughts. She looked back up at that perfectly lit chandelier. The roaring fire. The cozy drapes hugging the room. The huge and sumptuous bed, and she gasped.

  He did plan all this. The sneaky bastard. She wasn’t sure how, or even why, but…but this—she fumed—this was one classy den of iniquity.

  Where the heck was the door? Squinting, she carefully examined the smooth wall. There had to be one there as they’d walked through it earlier. There had to—there it was—she sighed out her relief when she caught sight of the transparent knob. It was right next to the hidden paneled door that led into the bathroom. She had one foot off the bed and planted on the floor when she froze. How had she known there was a bathroom there?

  Well, she wasn’t sticking around to find out. “Shit, shit, shit,” she swore, tripping over the bulk of the duvet in her haste to exit. One look down and she knew she had a problem. The covers were too heavy. This escape called for a sheet.

  She dropped the comforter and kicked it aside as she tore the top sheet off the bed. In less than a minute she had the flimsy material wrapped around her toga style. With one last twist she bent and lifted the hem, tossing it over her arm like the ancient Romans used to do.

  “Please be unlocked. Please, please, please,” she chanted as she hurried to the camouflaged door. Grasping the knob, she bit her lip and closed one eye in a grimace as she turned the glass handle. It moved. Thank the good lord it—crap. It may have turned but it didn’t budge. The door was like a wall of cement when she tried to push it open. There had to be another way—

  Thud, thud, thud.

  Footsteps. He was coming back! Where could she hide?

  She tried the other knob and that one didn’t budge either. Spinning around she scoped out the room. From corner to corner and ceiling to floor. It was no use.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  He was close and she was screwed. If only she had her purse. That can of pepper spray she’d been carrying around for months would certainly come in handy now. She’d bet the instructor at the Y wouldn’t be downplaying her concerns about having to carry props to defend herself, because here she was in jeopardy with no fucking props. Nothing. She should have paid the extra twenty-five bucks and taken the karate classes instead.

  Creak. Thud, thud, thud.

  Her heart pounded. “Think, Fin. Think.”

  Turns out there was no thinking to be done as there was nowhere to hide. The mattress was raised on a closed platform and—snick—fuck it. She ran back to the bed and literally dove and then rolled into a shimmy all the way up to the iron headboard. Since she had nowhere to hide the best plan was to put a wall to her back before she confronted him.

  When he came in and closed the door, she may have been out of breath, but she was ready for him.

  “What is going on here? Have you given me some kind of psychedelic drug or…or poison of some kind?” she demanded. Hoping to throw him right on the defensive. A tactic she’d always intended to use when she was finally taken seriously at her job and given grittier assignments.

  He’d been heading right for her, but then stopped and scowled. “Poison?”

  “You must have given me something, you…you…”

  His scowled deepened and so did his voice, when he said, “Patience, mia lei.”

  Now she scowled. “For who? Me or you? If your answer is me, and I somehow think it is, I just want to go on the record here as stating that I don’t find being held against my will as something to take in stride.”

  His lip twitched as if he were going to smile, and she was thinking furiously he better not or else, when he eyed the duvet on the floor.

  “I see you’ve been redecorating.”

  “No.” She lifted up her chin a notch so he’d see she wasn’t intimidated even though she totally was.

  Dammit. He saw right through her, she was sure, when his brows arched high over eyes that drilled into her. There was a smile in voice when he asked, “What would you call it?”

  “Fashion designing.”

  He chuckled. That really steamed her. “Stop laughing. I want my clothes back. I
also want my ski jacket and boots. My purse and—”

  “Stop talking.” He wasn’t laughing now.

  Dammit times two. She should have just asked for her purse so she could get a hold of the pepper spray. “I will not. At least get me my purse. I have things I need in there.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  She tightened her grip and drew her knees up under the sheet. The thin cover of which she feared his eyes would burn holes through. And when he took a step toward her she had a different fear. One where his look would burn her instead. As it was, she was getting heated from inside out under his watchful gaze. Uh oh, she was softening up and becoming less sure as the seconds ticked by. This lack of control really got under her skin. She needed to shore up her defenses. No, what she really needed was to look away from his seductively dark eyes. “I’m not going to let you touch me again,” she blurted and broke eye contact as she turned aside to stare into the fire.

  “You letting me, again or otherwise, wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  Despite how much those words really ticked her off, she refused to give in and glare at him. She chose, instead, to keep her distance from his compelling gaze when she blindly threw down the gauntlet. "So what? Are you into rape? Because that's what it'll be, you know?”

  “You think so? Maybe we better see about that.”

  See about—? That got her attention and when her eyes collided with his, she sucked in a breath. She had to as he was right at the bottom of the bed. He was bending and reaching forward. Easily spanning the distance to her as he slid his hands under the sheet. Searching before he grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled. Why wasn’t she kicking him? Screaming? Why did she lay there like a lamb to the slaughter as he slowly dragged her down the length of the bed? Bringing her closer to him until the soles of her feet rested against the soft—she frowned and before she could stop herself she curled her toes into material that encased his rock hard thighs. The first attempt she came up empty, so she scrunched them again, only this time harder and was rewarded as some of the fabric got trapped against her feet.