by kimberly
With the tips of her fingers, praying creaky hinges would not betray, she edged the door open, ever so gently, until the angle was perfect, affording her an almost complete view of the suite within.
Ashleigh Reynolds reclined on the king-sized bed; only a sheet covered her. Her clothes were in a heap on the floor and the bedclothes around her were in disarray, an indication that she and Morgan had indulged in a very passionate afternoon.
Julienne shifted her body. She eased the door open a fraction wider.
Morgan sat across the room. He relaxed in a comfortable lounge, one leg hanging over the arm, cigarette dangling from his lips. Unlike Ashleigh, he was fully clothed, perfectly and impeccably: black boots, crisp black slacks, creamy white shirt under a black silk vest. No coat. No tie. His penetrating gaze under half-lidded eyes smoldered with barely concealed ire. Taking a deep drag, he caught the cigarette between thumb and forefinger.
"Seose lhiat!" He spat the words out in Gaelic, then finished in English, "Get up, wench!" The words that emerged harshly from between his clenched teeth were viciously flung.
Ignoring him, Ashleigh rolled languidly, stretching like a young tigress aware of the power of her tawny body, revealing a flash of a firm, tanned thigh that didn't have a hint of a bikini line. She ran a hand over her silky skin. Her gaze met his defiantly, seeming to annoy him.
"No." Petulant recalcitrance colored her tone. As she traced pouting lips with the tip of her tongue, her eyes assumed a languid dreaminess. She began to inch the sheet up, spreading her legs enough to allow him an intimate view of her womanly delights. "Not until you tell me why I'm good enough to fuck, but not good enough to marry."
Julienne lifted a hand to her mouth, stifling her gasp. She was intruding on a very private moment between two people who were circling each other like mortal enemies.
I should go. Still, she could not tear her eyes away from the drama.
Morgan leaned back in his chair. His raven eyes had mocking glints in their depth as he studied Ashleigh carefully, more bored than intrigued. "Back on that again?" he clipped smartly. "The engagement existed only in your mind. I never made you any promises, Ashleigh. You knew what was between us could end at any time."
Ashleigh's propped herself up on her elbows. "Yeah? Well, you also never gave me any clue anything was wrong between us. Now, you say you're leaving and it's over. No reasons, no explanations. Nothing." She tried to keep her voice from shaking with the emotions he'd given her no time to sort through.
He answered through curling tendrils of smoke, "I owe you no explanations." In his own voice was the snap of the barely restrained beast that he was.
Ashleigh frowned. "So, you won't even say where you're going?"
His dark brows drew together. His expression was stony. "My destination does not concern you."
Squaring her shoulders like a young soldier, Ashleigh attacked. "What about me?" she pouted. "What happens to me? Where do I go?"
His fathomless stare studied her contemptuously. "Anywhere three million dollars can take you," he finally replied, smashing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "Not a bad haul for giving your body to me for a year."
Julienne's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Three million dollars for one year of sex? Now that he was finished with Ashleigh, Morgan was attempting to buy her off. It was, she knew, his way of belittling the woman, wounding her. She wondered what Ashleigh's response would be. She did not have to wait long for the answer.
"Three million?" Insulted, Ashleigh threw back her head and laughed. "Not enough to cover the hell you've put me through." She smiled the grin of a woman whose heart was ruled by her bank account. "Twenty."
His mouth twisted into the travesty of a smile. "Good. Now that we have established what you are, let us settle on your price." His words stabbed, hard and deep. Lifting himself out of the chair, he walked to the bed, his face a study of a brooding scowl. His eyes cut briefly to the half-open door.
Julienne took a reflexive step back. Did he sense she was behind it? She should go while the going was good. But her heart, like her motionless body, seemed paralyzed. She wanted--no, needed--to see more. She had no shame. She had no pride. Nothing mattered except the scene playing out for her private viewing.
Ashleigh sat up, bunching the defensive sheet around her naked body. Their eyes didn't unlock when, bending, he put one hand in the cleft between her breasts and ripped it viciously downward to expose her nudity. As she tried to cover herself, he snatched up her wrist and twisted it. A small cry of surprise and pain escaped her lips. Glittering with a savage passion, his eyes seemed to range over her, deliberate and insolent, enjoying her discomfort. The sharp-edged line of his jaw warned her of his fury, a thing that seemed to excite her.
Pulling free of his grasp, Ashleigh rose to her knees. Her nipples were taut with her arousal as she began to slowly unbutton his vest. Parting the material, her hands glided over his shirt, moving lower. Her fingers slid into the waistband of his pants and she provocatively undid the top button.
"I know what you like."
"Then show me."
Morgan pushed her back onto the bed, positioning his body between her spread legs. He laughed, low in his throat, grasping her wrists and capturing her arms above her head. Ashleigh's back arched reflexively as one of his hands sought and then closed over her bare breast.
Julienne hastily squeezed her eyes shut. Did she really want to see them make love? Filled with revulsion at herself, she rested her burning forehead against the door's frame. Morgan and Ashleigh. The image of them together seared into her brain. Her throat tightened, barely allowing air to her lungs. Her heart ached, blood blazed through her veins.
I can't look at this anymore…
Yet neither could she leave.
She continued to watch.
Escaping his hold, Ashleigh's arms circled his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Emotionless and cold as ice," she purred. "Everything I like about you."
Propped on one elbow above her, Morgan skimmed his free hand along her bare hip and thigh before brushing between their bodies, progressing to the curve of her breast. "I could take you again." His voice resonated, deep with desire.
"It'll cost you," Ashleigh murmured. Her lips nuzzled his hard, unsmiling mouth. "Fifteen."
"Five." His fingers teased her erect nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
"Ten." She arched her body under him, her mouth capturing his in a bruising kiss.
The erotic spell was broken when he suddenly reared up on his knees. His hand lifted to his mouth. When he drew his fingers away, crimson stained the tips. Ashleigh had bitten him. With a glance at the blood, a slow, cruel smile curled the corners of his mouth. Without warning, he drew back and swung backhand, connecting with Ashleigh's face.
"Ben chadjin!" he snarled. His pallor shone. His black eyes blazed. "Whore!"
As if he had struck her, Julienne's hand flew to her face. She gasped, horrified but still half-disbelieving. She couldn't believe he'd gone as far as to strike Ashleigh. Anger ignited in her heart, spreading like wildfire feeding on the tinder that was her hatred and mistrust of men. She choked back the bile her heaving guts threatened to expel. She was sickened, for even as the thought of rough sex repelled, it also fascinated. She remembered her earlier impressions of him--he could be dangerous when provoked… The idea excited her more than she cared to admit.
This is not good, she warned herself. Remember the dream! She knew she should leave immediately, but her feet were rooted to the floor. She couldn't help herself.
She had to look.
Palm pressed to her stinging cheek, face flushed with hate, Ashleigh pulled the sheet up to cover her heaving breasts. "Just the way you like sex--painful!" she hissed, challenging his snapping glare with an insolence of her own.
Morgan's hand shot out. He caught her by the chin, his fingers digging deeply into her soft flesh when he wrenched her head back.
"Payback is he
ll," he warned unpleasantly. "You are not comprehending the position that you are in. Argue with me further; and instead of a hard cash settlement, you will find yourself in a very cold, dark location where no one will ever find you."
Fear flitted through Ashleigh's eyes. "You wouldn't."
His brows lifted in mock surprise, as if he were startled by her defiance. "You know I would. It is much more interesting for me when lives are on the line."
Jerking his hand away, Ashleigh swallowed hard, fighting to keep her composure. "Don't threaten me!"
He gave a short, ugly laugh. "It is not a threat. It is a promise." Raising himself off the bed with all the grace of a feral cat hovering over a successful kill, he straightened his clothes. "Seven. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it." Ashleigh smirked, more an ugly grimace that was a travesty of a smile. "And," she added glacially, "It'll be the last cold, hard thing in my life."
He accorded her a stiff inclination of his head. "Good. You'll be leaving tomorrow. Where you go after you leave is up to you." He glanced impatiently at his watch. "Now, get your ass up and get dressed."
"I'm not going anywhere tonight." Ashleigh settled back, wiping traces of his blood from her lips. Her hand trembled despite her bravado. "I need my sleep for the trip tomorrow. I have a lot of packing to do." Her voice, however, had lost its strength, and the fight appeared to have deserted her. Despite her score of cash, there was a sag of defeat in her shoulders. She'd won the battle, but lost the war. Moreover, she'd lost her lover.
Morgan's eyes narrowed and his austere features, usually formidable, hardened even more. Rage propelled him across the room. Storming to the closet, he wrenched the door open with such force that the heavy knob smashed completely through the wall behind it. Pulling a dress off its hanger with a jerk that ripped the material he flung it toward Ashleigh with a viciousness that made her cringe.
"Put the goddamn thing on and deasaich, get ready! Tonight you are going to smile even if it bloody well kills you!"
He scowled and took an angry step back. Turning on his heel, he strode straight for the door that would take him out of the suite.
Oh, my god! Julienne panicked. I'm about to be caught red-handed…She frantically looked around. Where to go? What to do? It would be foolishly daring to step back, pretend she was only passing by at the exact moment he exited. Useless! Her face would give her away in a second. If she ran, he'd hear her, know what she'd been up to: spying on him.
Her only choice was to hide. Fast! It didn't occur to her to simply ignore him and walk on as if she'd seen nothing.
Skittering past the table earlier admired, she ducked in trembling haste behind a column. Pressing herself against the wall, she thought wildly that she must look like a prisoner about to be executed by firing squad. She wished she could become a part of the plaster and disappear through its solidity like a phantom, magically reappearing downstairs, unruffled and innocent of eavesdropping. The column protruded just enough to conceal a person; and, oh, thank heavens, she was at her thinnest! She drew in a deep breath, attempting to make herself narrower, less conspicuous. What could she possibly say to explain?
Oh, sorry. I was just passing by, the words tumbled crazily through her head, and decided to stop and watch you have wild sex with Ashleigh. And, oh, by the way, seven million is way too much for that piece of tail. She stifled an involuntary laugh. Heart pounding, blood thrumming through her veins, she pressed cold fingers to her lips, closed her eyes and prayed, almost expecting to hear the sound of someone screaming. Instead, she heard Morgan's footsteps progress into the hallway. Through the darkness, his stride was sure and solid across the hardwood floor.
Go on! She silently urged. Just walk and keep on going. Please, God, don't let him look back this way…
The footsteps stopped. Dead silence.
What the hell? He can't know I'm here, he just can't…
"You can come out," Morgan's voice was razor-edged with a pique that belied the overt politeness of his words.
She froze. Stay still. Be quiet. He'll go away.
"No reason for follaghyn as feddyn, hide and seek," he continued. "Your perfume gives you away."
My perfume? Her mouth fell open in involuntary shock. Jesus. What was he? A dog? Able to smell her halfway down a hall?
Julienne pressed her hand to her stomach and stepped out where he could see her. She lifted her chin. No reason to let him cow her, though he would certainly be in the right if he decided to give her an ass chewing. I'll just pretend that standing back against a wall is the most natural thing in the world to be caught doing.
"I wasn't hiding," she defended herself, despising the way her heart began to jump.
Morgan raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh, really?"
"I was just on my way downstairs. To eat."
He nodded. His dark gaze skimmed her body. She was acutely aware of his appraisal. His penetrating stare under hooded eyes was an intimate one. He did not conceal the fact he was examining her closely, with a slight smile and the devilish expression in the depths of his dark eyes.
"You like what you see?" She offered her best profile, giving him plenty of time to look her over. Eat your heart out over something you'll never have.
"I will admit you are a vision to behold," he said, rewarding her with a flicker of interest that seemed sincere.
"I'm surprised you complimented me," she said, offering a shy, relieved smile. Maybe, she prayed, she was off the hook.
"I can give credit where it is due," he retorted briskly, then continued with a shattering precision of insult to parry his compliment, "But you are still a long way from what you were. I daresay overly thin women are not attractive."
Julienne felt dismay flood through her. She had thought he was pleased to see her. Yet, his words indicated differently. Knowing what she had been through, he had the gall to make such a cruel remark. In heels, she might have stood taller than he did, but somehow he had a way of making a person feel two inches high.
"Every time I think I like you," she snapped, "I don't like you." What had happened to him in life that put him constantly on the defensive, ready to strike? Was it because he had been so deeply hurt by a woman that he no longer trusted females? Is this what my mother escaped from? she wondered.
"I never asked you to like me," he said, pushing his sharp verbal needle a little further into her perception of him.
"Well, I don't!" she shot. Apparently what Danielle Yames had told her was true. Morgan simply didn't care if people liked him or not. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you hurling insults at me!"
"I am not detaining you from leaving." He stepped aside, affording her ample space to pass him. "I shall not delay you further."
"Good." Deciding to try for a bluff and see if she could get by him with her hide and her dignity intact, she set her body in motion. Sighting squarely past him, she started to proceed on her way. Twenty little steps and she could be safely past the den of the lion. Out of danger, free to go.
Freedom was not so easily gained.
Morgan's hand shot out, seizing her arm and jerking her maliciously to a stop. His grip was none too gentle and his black eyes seemed to slice right through her hastily erected defenses before he shaded them.
"Goaill soylley coimhead?" He cocked his head toward Ashleigh's bedroom.
Julienne lost all her pretended composure. His words did not have to be spoken in English for her to understand their meaning. He had asked her if she enjoyed watching. He knew she'd been standing behind the door! She could feel his hand burning through the thin material of her sleeve. She bit back a cry of pain as his fingers dug deeply into her arm, perceiving the willful savagery in his grasp. She was very aware the air around him sizzled with the sheer animal maleness he projected. She licked her lips, drawing in a quick breath. Oh, he was so damned gorgeous, from the careless tousle of his black hair to his fathomless night-colored eyes that held the promise of pain…and of pleasure. Coile
d, crouched like an untamed beast, muscles sinuous under his impeccable clothing, he made her shiver. His very touch aroused her, and it took all the willpower she had to fight her attraction to him.
How could a man she half-despised do this to her? He was the kind of man who took women, used them and then threw them away after he'd had his way with their bodies. Emotions didn't figure into his equation. He was cold, calculating and utterly ruthless in the way he manipulated people.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she flared, pretending to be insulted by his accusation. "I didn't see anything."
"Too bad. You missed the best parts." The pressure of his hand grew stronger, surer. "Might have been more interesting if you would have come in. You look like the kind of woman who takes pleasure from fornication."
Julienne violently twisted away from his grasp. He had a silent way of looking at a woman that made her realize what the word degrading really meant. For the first time since arriving, she remembered the negatives he'd purchased, the ones James Hunter had tried to blackmail her with. Had he…examined them? Stupid question! Of course he'd looked at them, appraising the value of his purchase. One million, five hundred thousand. That's what James had demanded for the pictures. And Morgan Saint-Evanston had paid his price. That's how much of her he owned.
Her blood pressure plummeted and she felt herself go curiously cold inside. She could only guess when and where and over how many years James had taken them. That he had captured their most intimate moments on film for later sale repelled her.
Jesus Christ, James was really setting me up for the fall, she fumed in her mind. Backing himself up, making sure I didn't get away easily or cheaply. Those pictures are going to be the death of me.
"I'm not interested in threesomes," she mumbled through uncooperative lips, refusing to look at him. How could she? She knew what he was hinting at. He was trying to get her to admit what she'd seen, admit the sight of him making love to Ashleigh had made her jealous.
