by Neesa Hart
His gaze softened. “Neither was I. You’re amazing. Never doubt it.”
Cora swallowed. How did he always know what she needed from him? “It’s not me,” she assured him. “I have it on the best of authority that I’m extremely boring.”
“Cora—” he moved over her so she was pressed to the sheet by his weight “—listen to me.”
“No, really.” She had to head him off before he offered up some incredible compliment that would make her forget this was an affair with a passionate, amazing man whose idea of permanence was penciling in a date on his calendar. She smiled at him. “Really. I’m just having a bout of incredulity. This is…a little new to me.”
“You’ve never pillaged a man before?” he asked, smiling.
She couldn’t prevent a blush. “No,” she replied softly.
His gaze narrowed and he searched her expression with unsettling intensity. “Want me to show you again how much I want you?”
Oh, how she wanted it. “No, er, yes, but not right now. Duty calls.”
“Is that what that noise is?”
“No, that noise is the clamor of your family waiting for the guest of honor.”
He shut his eye. “They always did have rotten timing.” He dipped his head. “I still think we should blow them off.”
“Kaitlin planned the entire event,” she said as his lips found the hollow of her throat. “Even the cake.”
He stilled and raised his head. “Really?”
Cora nodded. “Uh-huh.” She brushed a wave of dark hair off his forehead. “And besides, I’ve been having fantasies about those burgundy sheets upstairs. If we stay here—”
He kissed her hard, then rolled away with typical decisiveness. She envied him that. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Tonight you can tell me what those fantasies, and I’ll fulfill them.” He reached for his trousers.
Cora unabashedly watched him dress. He was truly splendid, she decided as she watched his bronze skin ripple over the corded muscles that had felt like bunched satin beneath her fingers. Their joining had been so fierce and explosive that there’d been little time for finesse or tender explorations. She wondered now what it would be like to take her time mapping his hard frame and learning all the textures and sensitivities of his flesh.
With the corset still pressing against her own suddenly oversensitized flesh, she watched him pull on the full, white shirt and had a sudden image of Abigail, lying in her boudoir, watching del Flores prepare to leave. Had Abigail felt this odd combination of disappointment and utter satiation? Rafael pulled his hair back and clipped it neatly at his neck. Had del Flores, Cora wondered, overwhelmed Abigail with passion, then slipped away into the night?
Had Abigail felt this same urgency when she’d known their time was short?
The thought depressed her, so Cora deliberately pushed it aside. There’d be time enough later—time when he’d found what he’d come for in her home and in her life and let his wanderer’s spirit carry him away—to ponder the irrationality of her choices.
Dressed now in his trousers, shirt and boots, he walked to her side of the bed and helped her to her knees. He stooped to kiss her, a lingering, soul-stirring kiss that held the promise of a thousand more to come. “You’d better get dressed, lass,” he said in his pirate’s drawl. “They’ll be expecting you downstairs.”
Cora kissed his chest. “I suppose I should feel embarrassed that they’re all going to know what we’ve been doing.”
“Do you?” he asked quietly.
Too quietly, she thought, as if the answer mattered more than he wanted her to know. She leaned her head back and met his gaze. “No. Not at all.”
His smile sent heat skittering along her nerves. “I’m glad.” He smoothed her hair away from her face, then traced the curves of her ears with his fingers. “And I’m not trying to be crass, here, but time is, er, of the essence. Do you need help getting your corset off?”
Cora laughed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
His grin was devilish. “Let’s just say that if I’d known you were going to look this sexy in it, I’d have started fantasizing about it weeks ago.”
“And if you help me take it off now,” she observed, “we might never get downstairs.”
“Point well taken.” He kissed the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to run upstairs and change. I’ll come get you in five minutes.”
“Do you think we should go down together?”
“I think if we don’t, my family is going to grill you until you crack under pressure.”
She laughed. “But I have a secret weapon.” At his quizzical look, she thumped his chest. “Benedict Bunny can always create a distraction for me.”
He swatted her behind. “You certainly are a cheeky thing, aren’t you.”
“It’s you,” she argued, “and that terrible influence my sister claims you’re having on me.”
“Well, whatever it is, you can tell me about it later when all those kids are in bed.”
Cora nodded. “Deal.”
He scooped up his discarded saber and del Flores’s jacket, and hurried from the room. Cora’s fingers found the laces of her corset. She hurried through the task as best she could and made quick work of hanging and covering the vintage gown. She hesitated a moment before pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The ridiculously lacy underwear seemed out of place underneath such casual clothes. She almost changed to something more practical until she pictured the look in his eye when he’d first seen the lacy bra and garter belt. She won another battle with her practical side and opted to leave them on. She had the inescapable feeling that she’d need the memories later to ease the ache of his absence.
True to his word, he appeared five minutes later clad in black jeans and a denim shirt. He kissed her lingeringly. “Ready for this?” His hands rested lightly at her waist.
“Do you have any idea,” she probed, reaching up to straighten her glasses, “how completely out of character this is for me?”
“I have an inkling.” His eye sparkled. “And I’m totally fascinated.”
“Lauren’s right.” She stepped away from him. “You’re having a terrible influence on me.”
He flung an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the stairs. “Feels great, doesn’t it?”
HIS FAMILY GREETED them with exuberance and charm. Twenty minutes later Cora was struggling to remember what she’d worried about. Six of Rafael’s sisters, including Margie and Elena, had made the trip. His older brother, Zack, and his younger brother, Seb, were also there. Through conversation, Cora learned that the third brother, a Navy SEAL, was at sea. His two youngest sisters were still in college and were finishing up a summer-school session. And the other missing sister, a nurse, had not been able to clear her schedule. All of them had Rafael’s exotic coloring and devil-may-care attitude. Even the spouses, Cora noted, seemed to have adapted to the overwhelming force of the clan. Zack’s wife, August, with her auburn hair and fair coloring, fit in readily with the women as if she’d been born to the position. Most of the children present, it turned out, were hers. Several were adopted, a couple were ones she and Zack had given birth to. August claimed she could no longer remember which were which.
The laughter was loud. The conversation often even louder. Cora found herself dazzled by the easy intimacy of Rafael’s family. Even Zack, despite the tense history between the two brothers, seemed at ease. Cora watched him put a restraining hand on the shoulder of a young boy who was headed for the kitchen at a dead run. The stern look he gave the child to halt his progress faded nicely into a warm smile and a forgiving tousle of the youngster’s hair when the silent warning was received and obeyed.
Never having experienced such undiluted warmth in her own family, Cora felt overwhelmed, but not unpleasantly so. And she wasn’t the only one, she observed. When Kaitlin’s cake was received with an appreciative round of compliments and questions, the child beamed. “It was Aunt Cora’s id
ea,” Kaitlin explained regarding the intricate drawing of the Isabela on top of the cake.
“Kaitlin drew it herself,” Cora added.
“She’s taking art classes,” Rafael announced as he admired the cake. “She’s extremely talented.” The surety of the statement left no doubt among the group.
So they cut the cake and ate the ice cream, and one by one, the children began to tire. Eyelids drooped and shoulders sagged, and parents and aunts and uncles took equal responsibility for ushering the latest bedtime casualty off to the room that Kaitlin had decided they should set aside for the children. The large room that had once served as Colonel Conrad’s library currently stood unfurnished. Cora had not yet had the time or funds to renovate it, so she’d had it painted and had installed a carpet to protect the oak floors. Now sleeping bags lay in neat rows on the thick carpet, and a clutter of suitcases crowded one wall.
Finally, when all the children were together—some already asleep—Rafael took responsibility for ushering the final few into the land of Nod. He sat in the center of the floor with Liza curled in his lap and began to spin a tale for his avid audience. The lights were off, and the only illumination came from the foyer. Cora stood in the doorway and watched as the children fell quickly under his spell.
One by one, they eased into their sleeping bags and succumbed to the lulling sound of his voice and the aftermath of the day’s excitement. When the last one had nodded off, he eased Liza off his lap and into the sleeping bag with Molly.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Surprised, Cora looked around to find Elena watching her. “Yes,” she concurred, “he is.”
Elena studied her for a moment. “He’s different with you, though,” she said. “It’s like I told you that day at lunch. He looks at you differently. He cares about you.”
The words gave Cora pause. Oh, be careful, she warned herself. Be very careful.
From the corner of her eye, Cora watched Rafael pick his way over the clutter of sleeping bags and making his way toward the door. “The feeling is mutual,” she assured his sister.
Elena nodded. “I’m really glad.”
Rafael pulled the door shut behind him as he joined them. “Mission accomplished,” he said, and put his arm around Cora’s shoulders. “The munchkins are dead to the world.” He kissed the top of Cora’s head. “And now that I think about it, I’m feeling a little tired myself.”
That made Elena laugh. “I see the art of subtlety still eludes you.”
“Subtlety is for cowards,” he said.
She glanced at Cora. “Sure you know what you’re getting into?”
“I ask myself that at least ten times a day,” Cora admitted.
Elena’s expression was warm as she rose on tiptoe to kiss her brother’s cheek. “I’ll bail you out and make your excuses.”
“As usual?” he quipped.
“Naturally.” She patted his arm. “Thanks to Cora’s unbelievable generosity, we’re all staying here.” At his groan, she pinched him. “So there’s plenty of time to visit tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
Elena continued, “And thanks for being so civil with Zack. It made everything easier.”
“I’m glad he came.” Rafael sounded sincere. At his sister’s surprised look, he laughed. “I told you that we buried the hatchet after his wedding.”
“Still…”
“I know.” He cupped her face. “It’s all right, Elena. It’ll take time, but we’re working on it.”
She nodded. “That’s all I ask.” With a natural affection, she gave Cora a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for making all this possible.”
“My pleasure,” Cora said, and meant it.
Elena shooed them toward the stairs. “Now go, before I think better of it and change my mind.”
RAFAEL AWOKE the next morning with a strange sense of disorientation. The sound of hammering had awakened him, he realized. A soft rain streaked down the window of his third-story room, obliterating the usual shaft of sunlight that served as his alarm clock. It took him several seconds to identify the likely source of the hammering. Last night, he’d asked his brother, Seb, who was a master carpenter by trade, to fix the lock on Cora’s door. With his usual attention to detail, Seb had started the job near the crack of dawn. No doubt, the rest of the family was starting to stir—and if experience was any measure, no one was going to be impressed with Seb’s diligence. Already, Rafael could hear the sound of children’s voices rising through the house.
Still, a sense of unease followed him from his half-asleep state to full wakefulness. The warmth at his side, he immediately recognized. Cora. She’d given him everything last night. He’d never had a lover who shared so much of herself. It shook him when he thought about it. Her undiluted selflessness demanded a response from him—one he wasn’t sure he could give her.
Slowly he rubbed a hand over her rib cage. Her flesh felt supple and warm beneath his fingers, and the sensation was already having an effect on him.
He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt this incredible sense of well-being—and the undeniable urge to keep feeling it. He rarely thought in terms longer than the next project, the next find, the next discovery, but now he found himself wondering how he could look forward to anything if he knew the next day would start without Cora.
It was this realization that had created his unease. No one knew better than he that dreams about forever were just that—dreams. And dreams inevitably led to disappointment. Deliberately he pushed the uncharacteristic melancholy thoughts away. Cora was stirring next to him—and she deserved all his attention.
She turned in his arms and released a long sigh. “What time is it?”
Her disgruntled tone made him smile. Cora, he had learned in the past few weeks, was not a morning person. This particular morning, improving her mood felt like a personal, and delightfully tantalizing, challenge. “Six-thirty.”
She groaned. “What’s that pounding noise?”
He kissed her until she opened to him. “Seb is fixing your door,” he told her.
Cora stilled for a moment, then dropped her head to his shoulder. “I suppose you told him how it got broken.”
He pressed a hand to the small of her back and pulled her on top of him. “Sure. I have a reputation to protect.” She glared at him. He pressed a thumb to the corner of her mouth. “That’s a joke,” he said.
“Promise?” she asked, still looking disgruntled.
He laughed. “Yes, I promise. I would never besmirch your honor.”
Cora relaxed against him. “Getting through the party was hard enough for me. I’m pretty sure I’m not ready to face your family this morning if everyone knows you kicked my door in. I haven’t quite mastered your complete disregard for public opinion.”
“They loved you.”
“I liked them, too,” she said. “They’re, um, passionate.”
He cupped her bottom and gave it a light squeeze. “They’re noisy, overbearing, pushy and opinionated.”
“So you come by it honestly.” She tweaked his chest.
He growled at her. “I have created a monster.”
That won him yet another disgruntled look. “I beg your pardon?”
“Before I met you, Jerry assured me that I’d have no trouble managing you.” Her jaw dropped and she squeaked. He found the tiny noise absolutely irresistible. “Yep,” he affirmed.
“The cretin.”
“I should have let you slug him last night,” he concurred. “It probably would have made us both feel better.”
Her snort was inelegant and in stark contrast to the delightful picture of femininity she made sprawled across his chest like some golden-haired seductress. “I will admit to enjoying a certain level of satisfaction when he couldn’t answer that question about how the garments were authenticated. I couldn’t believe he didn’t know enough about the process to babble something about textile historicity and fiber analysis.”
“The part I enjoyed was watching him squirm when you wouldn’t come to his rescue.”
She nuzzled the underside of his chin and he felt his blood pressure soar. “Why are we talking about Jerry?” she asked him in a voice that sent his pulse to the moon.
“Beats me,” he drawled.
“I think we can—”
A piercing scream interrupted her. Cora raised her head, her eyes filled with alarm. “What was that?”
“Aunt Cora!” Liza’s voice trilled through the house. “Aunt Cora, come quick?”
Rafael met her gaze and they simultaneously said, “Benedict Bunny.”
CORA PULLED on her clothes and hurried down the stairs with Rafael hot on her heels. As predicted, they found a distraught Liza wringing her hands in a perfect imitation of her mother. She was standing in the hallway by Cora’s bedroom and had drawn a crowd with her earsplitting scream. “Aunt Cora,” she wailed, “Aunt Cora, it’s Benedict Bunny. He’s in there.” She pointed to a narrow opening in the former doorjamb of Cora’s bedroom door.
One of Rafael’s nephews pushed his way to the front. “What’s in there?”
“Benedict Bunny,” Molly supplied. “Liza’s always losing him.”
“I am not,” Liza said indignantly. “He just gets away sometimes.”
Another one of the boys spoke up. “How you gonna get him out?”
Elena’s daughter dropped to her knees and peered into the narrow opening. “It’s dark in there. I can’t see nothing.”
“Anything,” her mother absently corrected. “How are you going to get that thing out of there? You didn’t leave much room, Seb.”
Seb shot Cora an apologetic look. “Evidently I left too much. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to repair the lock without replacing the jamb, so I removed part of it.” He tapped the top of the jamb with the butt of a screwdriver. “It’s weird. It’s solid up here.” He tapped lower, “but hollow down here. It’s no wonder the lock gave way. There was nothing to hold the screws in place.”
“Great,” Rafael muttered.
Seb’s expression turned dry. “Maybe you didn’t need to work so hard.”
