“It’s one of our favorite rooms.” His wife was flirting with him, he was almost certain.
“Look Lizzie, you don’t have to worry that I—I mean I know you’re in pain.”
Without a word, she picked up the bottle of pain pills from the top of their bedroom dresser and, placing one on her tongue, she took a slow drink of water. His mouth went dry. Who knew that a drink of water could be so sensual?
…
He managed to survive three days without making love to her, and that blessed event seemed no closer to happening. He was a damn saint! Not that he was complaining. His days had been plenty full with his wife and children and reacquainting himself with his business responsibilities. But, oh, the nights.
Lizzie slept like a baby, courtesy of the painkillers, while he lay there awake. When he finally did sleep, he’d dream. Mysterious, disturbing, cloudy dreams—the woman in the clearing, a smiling man in a run-down shack—and always blood. Mentally, he shook off the lingering sense of dread that accompanied the nightmares and thought about his wife instead.
She’d been willing that first night, all cute and coy, flirty and sexy, but he could tell she was in pain so he’d pretended that it was no big deal to wait. And it wasn’t.
Except that he wanted her badly.
His unfortunate condition wasn’t helped by the fact that apparently the woman owned nothing but low-cut, skimpy, incredibly alluring nightwear.
She was quite happily oblivious to his torture. Two pain pills, a few arousing kisses, and she was sound asleep.
So he lay next to her, feeling her soft breath on his chest, her fragrant hair tickling his nose. And when at last he slept, unfortunately he dreamed.
…
The evening of their fourth day home, Daniel was fussy. Zach had just put him back to bed for the second time and was finally headed toward the bedroom.
He stopped outside their bedroom door, took a deep breath, and let out a reluctant sigh of relief, aware that his lovely wife was undoubtedly asleep. Opening the door, he stepped inside and stopped, surprised.
She wasn’t there.
Pushing down the immediate sense of panic he felt whenever he wasn’t sure where she was, he forced himself to turn calmly back toward the hall and go in search of her.
“Where are you going?”
He inhaled shakily and turned around, a smile on his face, as she emerged from the walk-in closet. “I was going to look for…”
His words died away as he saw her. Oh man, this nightgown put the others to shame. Silky and dark red, it caressed her body like a lover, and the tiny spaghetti straps gracing her lovely shoulders were so delicate that really it was a miracle they held the gossamer negligee in place.
And her hair, how he loved her hair. At night when she slept, he ran his fingers through the curls, mesmerized by the weight and texture, enchanted by the way it framed her face. Now he stood, captivated by the way it fell gracefully against her chest, teasing the valley between…
He needed to get out of there.
…
Lizzie watched in amusement as Zach swallowed hard, certain he’d rather die than pressure her by admitting how badly he wanted her. “Lizzie, I need to—”
“Zach.” Her husky voice stopped whatever excuse he’d been about to make before he bolted. “Would you light the candles? I’m having a little bit of trouble holding the match.”
Her hands were healing nicely, but they still pained her, and grasping a small match would cause unneeded discomfort. Besides, she had other plans for her hands tonight.
“Candles…”
“Please,” she entreated, interrupting any question he might want to ask.
She watched as he lit each candle, his hand trembling, then turned to her as she switched off the lights in the room and approached him, bathed in candlelight.
“Watch out.” She grasped his hand tenderly between hers and blew out the match as it burned dangerously low, smiling when he practically jumped at her touch.
“Are you…are you laughing at me?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he let her remove the match from his fingers and toss it in the trash. He waited, motionless, as she drew his hand to her mouth and placed erotic kisses along his fingers.
“No, husband, I’m seducing you.”
She watched, fascinated, as he swallowed again and bit the inside of his cheek.
“Frankly, Zach, I’m tired of waiting for you to be ready. I mean, I know you have concerns about living up to your amazing reputation, but, honey, it’s time.” She let go of his hand and took a step toward their bed.
Zach stared at her with such intensity that her heart began to pound, her eyes widening as a slow smile spread across his face. “You are a cruel woman.” She flushed at the compliment.
Slowly he advanced toward her.
For every step he took forward, she took one back, until the backs of her legs rested against their bed. When she was trapped, he raised one hand and traced the outline of her face, his gentleness at odds with the predatory hunger in his gaze. He ran a fingertip down the side of her neck and along her collarbone until his hand came to rest on her chest, where he felt the rapid beating of her heart.
His gaze softened as he searched her eyes. For a brief moment, she felt regret. Regret that he had no memories of making love to her, that she was alone in her remembered passion.
Then a sexy smile flitted across his face and passion left no room for regrets. He pulled her flush against his body and kissed her, the kisses of the previous nights paling in comparison to the soul-deep need to possess and be possessed that defined this moment.
Her hungry hands attempted to raise the hem of his T-shirt. He ended the kiss, stepping back to help her.
“No,” she whispered, “I can do it.” So slowly that it was painful, she raised the shirt over his head and let it fall, forgotten, to the floor.
“You are beautiful,” she breathed, running her hands over his chest, pausing for a moment to feel the beating of his heart, before sliding lower to grasp the waistband of his sweatpants. When he stood naked before her, she dropped her hands to her sides and waited.
Eyes smoldering, he reached for the straps of her gown, running his fingers along them before lifting the fabric to caress the skin underneath. Then with great care, he slid the straps from her shoulders and gently pushed the gown down her body until it pooled at her feet.
He drank in the sight of her, devouring each movement of her flushed skin as she breathed. Gentle hands followed his eyes, learning her curves and the texture of her skin.
He raised his gaze to her face and saw tears shining in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s just—you’re looking at me like…” She fumbled for words, at a loss.
“Like it’s our first time and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life?” He smiled a little half smile and lifted her in his arms, holding her close as he reached down to pull back the covers on the bed, her arms entwined behind his neck. He kissed her, tenderly at first and then with increasing passion as he lowered them both to lie on the cool cotton sheets. “Like I’ve never felt anything so wonderful?” His hands roamed her body boldly, reverently.
Rising up above her, he rested on his elbows and cradled her face between his hands. “Like I can’t quite believe you’re mine?”
A tear escaped her eye and began a slow journey down her cheek. “You’d better believe it,” she whispered as he kissed the tear away, “and you’re mine.”
Vows exchanged, passion exploded between them, leaving no room for regret. No room for loss or sorrow.
…
Breathing heavily, Zach flopped back on the bed, a big smile on his face. He turned on his side, propping up his head with one hand and hugging his wife with the other.
“Well?”
Lizzie stirred languidly. “Well what?” He watched her fight to hide a smile. Oh sure, she knew what.
His
smile faltered for a moment and then his eyes narrowed. The hand at her waist began to trace an impatient pattern.
“You know… Come on. I can take it.”
She raised one hand to cup his face. “Every. Single. Time.”
Satisfied, he pulled her close, resting his face in her hair.
He was home.
Chapter Forty-Six
Zach’s memories continued to elude him. He mourned the loss of happy memories of Lizzie, Sam, and Daniel. But they were adjusting, taking life one day at a time and thankful for every moment of it.
He’d been haunted by nightmares for the first week they were back in the house, but the disturbing dreams were gradually disappearing. He claimed it was because they were “reconnecting.”
Lizzie smiled at the memory of how his eyes widened innocently while imparting this euphemism for making love, but she suspected his peace of mind derived as much or more from the full-time guard he’d hired to keep an eye on his uncle in the psychiatric ward of the prison as his case wound its way through the legal system. It had taken some finagling, but Zach had connections, and his man had been hired on as part of the prison staff.
Lizzie slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her husband as she practically bounced with excitement. It was a beautiful, crisp winter’s day, and the sun promised to shine brightly on the snow and ice.
She had a surprise planned.
…
Zach stretched lazily and opened his eyes to find he was in bed alone. It was rare for Lizzie to wake before him. Although she said he’d always been an early riser, he knew part of the reason he awoke first was so that he had some semblance of control regarding the whereabouts of his wife and children. Lizzie hadn’t said anything, but occasionally he caught her looking at him askance. He knew the time was coming when he had to ease up on his intense need to know not just that everyone he loved was safe, but also exactly where they were.
Now his wife had disappeared on him. No noise came from the shower, no whispers or giggles from the nursery monitor by the bed. Zach threw back the covers and hurried into the bathroom. A card sat propped up next to his toothbrush.
Smiling, he opened it.
Hey honey,
Don’t worry, we’re still on the property. Take your time. We’re busy getting ready for your surprise. Your clothes are on the chair.
Finally a day for just the four of us!
Love,
Lizzie
Zach smiled ruefully. Just the four of us. Kyle and Sophie had been constant visitors. Even Grant had been by a couple of times. He’d apologized repeatedly, and their relationship was slowly improving. Zach might not agree with Grant’s choices, but he did understand the reality of living in Alistair Forrester’s hell. Lizzie said there was a sincerity about Grant that she’d never seen before. So, Zach guessed they’d be seeing more of him.
But today it was just the four of them—and their guards. He got ready quickly, brushing his teeth and slipping into the warm clothes Lizzie had left him. He took the stairs two at a time, slowing just as he reached the entryway to turn the corner with careful nonchalance.
And came face-to-face with a smiling Cole.
“Good morning.”
“Cole.” He nodded.
“Lizzie and the kids are down at the lake. They left when they heard you get up.” Cole watched as he grabbed his coat from the closet. “Don’t worry, Joey went with them.”
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Apparently he wasn’t hiding his anxiety from anybody. Thanking Cole, he left the house.
They had two guards at the house at all times, and not just any men, but his best men. He suspected it would be many months, if ever, before he lightened security.
This would be the first time they’d had a family outing at the lake in the ten days since they’d come home. They’d mostly stayed indoors as they waited for Lizzie’s hands to heal enough to be comfortable in gloves. And the lake—well, he was both drawn to it and repelled by it, the source of both hope and nightmares.
The winter sun warmed him as he walked down the drive to the snow-covered pathway, the calls of redbirds and chickadees an indication that everything was as it should be. Clouds drifted overhead, blown by a gentle breeze.
It was a beautiful day.
When he entered the woods, the pine trees cast long shadows, and a rabbit scampered across the trail ahead of him. He smiled, remembering the first time he kissed Maggie. He hoped that one day he’d remember the first time he’d kissed his wife.
The path darkened. He looked up, noticing the clouds that rolled in front of the sun, and his footsteps quickened. He found himself walking faster and faster until he practically ran the remainder of the path. His trepidation increased as the sun remained hidden, casting a gloomy pall over the cheerful day.
He entered the clearing and froze.
Lizzie stood in the center of the lake, her long curls blowing riotously in the breeze. She laughed, and the joyful sound echoed across the ice, piercing the shadows.
She saw him and smiled, seemingly oblivious to the wind as it picked up speed, blowing the clouds more fiercely. Unexpectedly, she sank to her knees on the ice. With his heart pounding in his chest he ran across the clearing to help her. As he neared the shore, the clouds relinquished their hold on the sun and brilliant rays burst forth, bathing her in glorious light.
She gestured toward him and he realized she’d knelt to wrap one arm around their daughter, who stood next to her, unsteady on beginner’s skates. Their baby sat bundled warmly on a child’s sled, its protective walls holding his infant seat securely.
“Daddy!” Sam called out in excitement and began to wobble awkwardly toward him.
Waving at Sam, he saw that his skates were waiting next to the bench. He laced them quickly, one eye on Sam as she made her way across the ice.
Her precarious journey ended when she plopped down on her bottom and started to cry the annoyed cry of a frustrated three-year-old. He rose to his feet and took off across the ice, gaining speed, not slowing until he reached the girl and scooped her up, racing onward to the sound of happy shrieks until they joined his wife and son.
With Sam on one arm, he held out his free hand. Lizzie lifted an excited Daniel from the sled and moved happily into his embrace.
“Surprised?” she teased.
“Oh yeah.” He pulled her closer for a kiss. “Team Weston on the ice. Nice.”
“For the first time.” She beamed at him.
He leaned in for another kiss, only to be interrupted by an enthusiastic Sam.
“The sled, Daddy! Let’s go!” She attempted to launch herself toward the sled, again shrieking with excitement when Zach pretended to drop her before securing her in her seat.
“Daniel,” Sam demanded, and they buckled Daniel in next to her.
When Lizzie placed Daniel’s new hockey bear in his hands. Zach’s smile faltered as he realized the significance of Lizzie’s bringing the bear along for their first team outing. He shook off his sadness. Thomas would want him to enjoy this day.
Laughing as she watched their children wave their arms in readiness, Lizzie looked at Zach in surprise when he frowned at Sam, who was clearly happier in the sled than she had been on her new skates.
“I guess I’ll have to start the hockey training a little later.” He sighed in mock defeat.
“You promised. No hockey before the age of thirteen.” She admonished him with a raised brow.
As she turned toward the sled, one hand held behind her back, he took a quick peek and gently captured her hand.
“Zach! What—” Her laughing outrage quieted when Zach raised her hand in front of his face and opened his fist to reveal her crossed fingers.
“Liar.” Running his hands down the lapels of her coat, he clenched a handful of fabric and pulled her forward. “I’m quite certain I’d never promise that.” Just to show there were no hard feelings, he lowered his head for a quick, passionate kiss.
&n
bsp; He pulled back reluctantly, resting his forehead on hers for a moment before cupping her face in his hands and searching her eyes. “I love you, Lizzie Weston.”
She smiled brightly. “And I love you.”
Grabbing the sled handle with one hand and his wife’s hand with the other, Zach started them off at a lazy pace across the ice, a family enjoying the warmth of the winter sun on a day bright with promise.
Epilogue
On a remote island in the Atlantic, men finished their search of the grounds, securing the large formal mansion that rose obtrusively from amid the tropical foliage. They left everything as they’d found it, with the exception of the new dead bolts and a state-of-the-art security system. Likewise, they locked and monitored the warehouse where it rested deep in the center of the island, its ugly corrugated steel a continuing abomination in this island paradise.
After the security force left, the island stood uninhabited by man, with only wildlife to mark the passing of days. The villagers from nearby islands stayed away, certain the crazy former owner continued to haunt the premises. They spoke of the island in hushed towns, referring to it as “dark island.”
Evil still whispered in the island breeze, and ugly secrets lay buried deep within the mansion walls, waiting to be discovered.
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Acknowledgments
Comes the Night is the first novel I ever wrote, and I owe many thanks to the Elizabeths and the ladies of the board for their support and encouragement.
A very special thanks to Leah Sims of Random House, who read the in-progress manuscript more times than I had a right to ask. I’m honored to say I knew you when!
Thanks to Detective Timothy Brennan, retired, for his assistance in understanding how the search would run in Westchester County. Any errors are completely mine.
Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) Page 24
