Witness

by Beverly Barton

  Ashe was magnificent. Big, tall and lean. He carried her back to the chaise, but set her on her feet.

  “Night before last we were so hungry for each other, we didn’t take the time to savor the moment. Not the first time nor the second time. Tonight, I want to learn every inch of your body, and I want you to know every inch of mine.”

  “Whatever you want, Ashe.” She moved closer, her breasts brushing against his hair-rough chest. She gulped down a sigh as shivers of pleasure shimmied through her.

  “No, honey. Whatever you want.” He cupped her buttocks, bringing her completely up against him, letting her feel his arousal, telling her, even without words, how much he wanted her.

  “I just want you, Ashe.” She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. “I just want you.”

  He kissed her until she was breathless, then he painted a trail of warm, moist kisses across her shoulder and down to one breast. All the while he caressed her hip with his other hand. She quivered, then cried out when he suckled her breast. Her knees weakened. He stayed at her breast long enough to have her panting, then knelt on bended knee and delved his tongue into her navel at the precise moment his fingers found the soft inner folds of her body. Her knees gave way and she would have fallen if she hadn’t caught Ashe by the shoulders, bracing herself.

  He covered her stomach in kisses, then moved back and forth from one thigh to the other, kissing, licking, nipping her tender flesh. She moaned with the pleasure, shivering as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

  Lifting her, he laid her on the chaise and came down over her, one knee resting on the side of the cushion, his other foot on the floor.

  “Touch me, Deborah. Feel me.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, then began a timid exploration of his chest and belly. Garnering her courage and enticed by his glorious body, she ran her fingers over his hardness. He groaned, but she knew the sound was one of pleasure and not pain. She circled him. He covered her hand, teaching her the movements that pleased him. But as quickly as he’d instructed her, he pulled her hand away and laid it on his hip.

  “I can’t take much of that, honey.”

  Lowering his head, he captured her nipple in his mouth, teasing it, then sucking greedily. She arched her back up off the chaise. He delved his fingers between her satiny folds, finding her most sensitive spot. She writhed beneath him as he fondled her. Within minutes she shuddered and he swallowed her cries of completion in a tongue-thrusting kiss. As the last wave of pleasure shook her, Ashe lifted her hips and entered her. One sure, swift move that joined their bodies and began the mating dance.

  Slowly. Precisely. In and out. Hands roamed. Lips kissed. Bodies united in pleasure. Soon the rhythm changed, the waltz became a wild fandango. Slow. Quick. Slow. Quick. Deborah clung to Ashe as the tension in her body mounted. He thrust into her harder and faster, sweat forming on his body.

  She called his name over and over again as her pleasure climbed upward, closer and closer to the apex. Ashe’s movements became frantic, his need for this woman growing hotter and hotter.

  She cried out in the moment of release, spiraling out of control and into oblivion. Ashe thrust once, twice more, and followed her over the precipice. His own hardy male cry blended with her feminine ones, their breaths ragged, their bodies coated with perspiration.

  Ashe maneuvered Deborah so that they fit together on the chaise, their bodies stuck together with the moisture of their lovemaking.

  “We’re going to stay here all night,” he told her.

  “Yes. I know.” She kissed him, taking the initiative, smothering him with all the passion she’d buried deep within her eleven years ago when he had walked out of her life.

  But he was back and for however long Ashe McLaughlin stayed in her life, she planned to be his lover. Maybe nothing lasted forever. Maybe they didn’t have a future. But for tonight, she would pretend. Tomorrow was a million miles away. Nothing mattered tonight, nothing except loving and being loved by Ashe.

  DEBORAH OPENED THE door to her bedroom. Ashe circled her waist with his arm, pulling her back against his chest, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

  “Get in your room. It’s nearly six. Mother will be up and about soon,” Deborah said, but turned in his arms, kissing him.

  He shoved her away, turned her around and swatted her behind. “See you downstairs for breakfast in about an hour.”

  Deborah stood in the open doorway, watching until Ashe disappeared down the hall and into his room. Smiling, she walked into her sitting room, humming “Goin’ Out of My Head,” the tune that had been playing on the cassette when she and Ashe had made love right before returning to the house.

  “Good morning,” Carol Vaughn said.

  Deborah came fully alert, stared across the room and saw her mother perched on the edge of the window seat. “Mother!”

  “Come in and close the door. I think we need to have a little talk, don’t you?”

  “How long have you been waiting in here?” Deborah closed the door and walked across the room, sitting down beside her mother.

  “Only a few minutes.” Carol took Deborah’s hand. “I awoke early. I’d had a difficult time sleeping all night. The sedatives don’t last very long. I walked around and just happened to stop by the windows and saw light coming from the pool house. I checked your room and found it empty, then I knocked on Ashe’s door. Mr. Roarke heard me and came out to see what was going on.”

  “Did you tell Roarke that Ashe and I were missing?”

  “I told him that y’all had obviously spent the night in the pool house,” Carol said. “I rather think I embarrassed the man.”

  “Oh, Mother, really.”

  “I was awake and heard the two of you on the stairs, so I came over here to wait for you.”

  “I’m a big girl now. I don’t need your approval to spend the night with a man.”

  “No, of course you don’t.” Carol patted Deborah’s hand, then released it. “But if you and Ashe have begun an affair, then I can’t help being concerned. For you and for Allen.”

  “Mother, I—”

  “Shh. I deliberately brought Ashe back here because I knew you’d never gotten over him, that there had been no one else.” Glancing down at her hands, Carol twisted her diamond ring and her gold wedding band about on her finger. “I admit I played God in your life, but I want you to be happy.”

  “I’m glad Ashe came back into my life. We’ve cleared up several misconceptions we had concerning each other.”

  “He told you what your father did, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “Deborah, your father thought he was doing the best thing for you. I disagreed, but you know how your father was. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “I don’t blame you, Mother. I don’t even blame Daddy.” Deborah hugged Carol. “It’s all right. Really it is. We can’t change what happened. Besides, I’m the one who has kept Allen’s parentage a secret. I could have gotten in touch with Ashe at any time and we both know it.”

  No, Deborah blamed no one except herself. If she had been a little older and less dependent on her parents, she never would have agreed to her father’s plan to send her and her mother away to Europe for the last few months of Deborah’s pregnancy. A chubby girl who had been able to disguise her pregnant state with loose, baggy clothes, even at six months, Deborah hadn’t had a problem keeping her pregnancy a secret. And once they had returned to Sheffield with Allen, no one had dared to openly question his parentage.

  “I lied to Mattie,” Carol said. “She asked me once, when Allen was just a baby, if he was your child. Yours and Ashe’s.”

  “You never told me that she suspected Allen wasn’t yours and Daddy’s.”

  “I lied to her. I convinced her that her suspicions were wrong. She never questioned me again.”

  “If she’d known, she would have told Ashe.”

  “She does know, Deborah.” Carol kept her eyes downcast. “I told h
er the truth when I asked her for Ashe’s telephone number in Atlanta.”

  “Mother!”

  Carol’s chin quivered as she looked directly at her daughter. “She has promised not to tell Ashe, to give you time to tell him the truth.” Carol clutched Deborah’s hand. “You must tell Ashe. You can’t keep putting it off, not now the two of you are lovers.”

  “Mother, I’m not sure telling Ashe would be the best thing to do, under the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “Ashe and I have made each other no promises. He hasn’t committed himself to me for any longer than his business here will take. Once I’m no longer in danger, he’s going back to Atlanta.”

  “I see.”

  “If I tell him about Allen, I have no idea what he might do. He could tell Allen. He could demand joint custody. Or he could make a commitment to me because of Allen and not because he loves me.” Jumping up off the window seat, Deborah walked around the room. She stopped abruptly, then turned to face her mother. “I’m afraid to tell him. I’m afraid I’ll lose him all over again.”

  “Deborah, dear child, you musn’t—”

  “I know. I know. I’m not fooling myself. It’s just that I want whatever time we have together to go on being as wonderful as it was tonight.”

  “You must tell the man he has a son.” Carol shook her head. “You can’t lie to Ashe if you love him.”

  “I didn’t say I loved him.”

  “You didn’t have to. I see it in your eyes. I hear it in your voice.”

  “I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

  “I go back to the doctor for a checkup and more tests soon,” Carol said. “If you haven’t told Ashe by then—”

  “No, Mother, you musn’t tell him.”

  “Then you tell him. We should have told him long ago. Besides, if you don’t tell him before he leaves Sheffield, Mattie will tell him.”

  “But what if he tells Allen?”

  Carol stood, walked across the room and laid her hand on Deborah’s shoulder. “Ashe isn’t going to do anything to hurt Allen. Don’t you know him any better than that?”

  “Give me some time, Mother. Please, just let me do this my way and in my own good time.”

  “Don’t wait too long. My heart tells me that you’ll be sorry if you do.”

  ASHE CAME OUT of the shower, dried off and stepped into a pair of clean briefs. He didn’t know when he’d ever felt so good, so glad to be alive.

  Deborah. Sweet, beautiful Deborah.

  She was, in so many ways, the same innocent, loving girl she’d been eleven years ago; but then she was also a woman of strength and courage and incredible passion.

  Whoever she was, part innocent girl, part bewitching woman, Deborah Vaughn was honest and trustworthy. She would never lie to him. Never!

  He had tried to put Roarke’s suspicions out of his mind, and for those magic hours he’d spent with Deborah he’d been able to do just that. But now he had to face them again.

  There was no way Allen Vaughn could be his son. Deborah would have told him if she’d been pregnant. She’d have come running to him. She’d been so crazy in love with him that she would have…

  She would have come to him after he’d rejected her, after he’d told her that he didn’t love her the way she loved him?

  Allen isn’t your son, he told himself. He looks just like Deborah. He’s her brother, dammit. Her brother!

  Besides, Mama Mattie would have told him if she’d thought Allen was his child.

  Don’t do this to yourself! Don’t look for similarities between you and Allen. Don’t let Roarke’s outrageous suspicions spoil what you and Deborah have found together this time.

  Miss Carol never would have dared you to come back to Sheffield and face the past if Allen was your son.

  Ashe dressed hurriedly, then rushed downstairs, eager to see Deborah again. He would not look at Allen Vaughn and search for a truth that didn’t exist. He trusted Deborah. His heart told him she wouldn’t lie to him. And just this once, he intended to listen to his heart.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE TRIAL HAD lasted eight days, everyone saying the case was pretty well cut and dried since the prosecution had a reliable eyewitness to the murder. After three and a half hours of deliberation, the jury had rendered a guilty verdict, surprising no one. Five days later, the judge had sentenced Lon Sparks to life in prison, and Deborah Vaughn had been free from threats and harassment for nearly two weeks.

  Ashe had been waiting for Buck Stansell to strike, but nothing had happened, not even a wrong-number telephone call. He’d thought about paying Buck a visit, but decided against it. Why take a chance on stirring a hornet’s nest? He had talked to his cousin Lee Roy, who’d said little, except that people weren’t overly concerned with an insignificant guy like Lon Sparks, that the man wasn’t worth enough to cause trouble over.

  Roarke had suggested it might be time to think about returning to Atlanta, but Ashe kept putting him off. How could he take a chance on leaving Deborah undefended? She’d come to mean far more to him than she should. He had allowed himself to become too involved with her, with Allen and Miss Carol. This was a job, but not like any other. These were people he cared about, a family he’d started thinking of as his.

  Maybe he had reached the age when he needed to settle down, to start considering marriage and children. He wasn’t sure. He and Deborah were attracted to each other, always had been, although he’d fought that attraction when they’d been younger. Maybe somewhere deep down inside him, he’d always thought he wasn’t quite good enough for Deborah. Not just because her parents were wealthy and socially prominent and he’d come from white-trash hoodlums, but because he’d never been innocent or pure or good, and Deborah had been all those things. Even now, at twenty-eight, she still personified everything right with the world.

  And he still wasn’t good enough for her.

  Ashe paced the floor in the doctor’s office, waiting for Deborah and Miss Carol. He’d told himself that he would hang around Sheffield until they knew the test results. It was as good an excuse as any. This way he could justify his reluctance to leave, to Deborah and her family, as well as to himself.

  Sitting, he flipped through several magazines, then stood and paced the floor again. He glanced at the wall clock, checking it against his watch. Nearly an hour. Dammit, how long did it take for a doctor to explain test results?

  Just when his patience came to an end, Deborah and Miss Carol emerged from the office, solemn expressions on their faces. Deborah’s arm draped her mother’s slender shoulders.

  “We’re ready to go home, now, Ashe,” Deborah said.

  Ashe didn’t ask any questions, didn’t say a word, simply nodded his head and led the ladies outside and assisted them into the car.

  Miss Carol, sitting in the front seat beside Ashe, reached over and touched his arm lightly. “Can you stay awhile longer?”

  “Yes, ma’am, of course I can stay.” He pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the main thoroughfare.

  “Deborah and Allen will need you,” Carol said.

  “Mother, please don’t—” Deborah said.

  “Hush up.” Carol swatted her hand in the air. “Ashe is like family and I want him here. Even if you think you can handle this alone, I believe you’ll need a strong man at your side.”

  “I take it the tests results weren’t good.” Ashe kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

  “The cancer has returned and Dr. Mason has scheduled surgery for the first of next week.” Carol opened her purse, took out a lace handkerchief and wiped her hands, then returned the handkerchief to her purse.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Carol.”

  “No need for all this gloom and doom.” Carol sat up straight, squaring her shoulders as if preparing herself to do battle. “I licked this thing once and I can do it again. But I’ll rest easier knowing Deborah won’t be alone, that you’ll be at her side.”

  “You hir
ed me, Miss Carol. I won’t leave Sheffield as long as you need me.”

  “Thank you, Ashe.” She patted him on the arm.

  Little more was said on the short drive home. Indeed, what more could be said? Ashe wondered. Life certainly didn’t play fair. Not when it heaped more trouble on one family than it could bear. But then, Deborah and Miss Carol were both strong women. They were fighters despite their genteel backgrounds.

  Sirens blasted, shrill and menacing in the quite, lazy atmosphere of Sheffield’s main street.

  “Oh, my.” Carol shivered. “I do so hate the sound of those things. Sirens always mean bad news.”

  “Look at that black smoke,” Deborah said. “It’s coming straight up Montgomery Avenue.”

  “My goodness, you don’t suppose it’s one of our neighbors’ homes, do you?” Miss Carol leaned toward the windshield, her gaze riveted to the billowing smoke filling the blue sky.

  The closer they came to home, the darker the smoke, the louder the sirens. A sudden sick feeling hit Ashe in the pit of his stomach. Allen was still at school. Roarke would be with him. Ashe blew out a breath.

  Before they reached the Vaughn driveway, they saw one fire truck parked at the back of the house and another just turning in behind it. “It’s our garage!” Deborah gripped the back of her mother’s seat. “It’s on fire!”

  Ashe pulled the Cadillac up to the curb, stopped and jumped out. “Stay here.” He ran across the front yard.

  “Stay in the car, Mother. I’ll come back and check on you in just a few minutes.”

  “But Ashe said for both of us to stay here,” Carol said.

  “Ashe isn’t my boss.”

  Deborah jumped out of the car, catching up with Ashe at the back corner of the house, where he stood watching the firemen do their job. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to his side.

  “It’s just the garage,” he said. “And it looks like they’re getting the fire under control.”

  “Mazie? Where’s Mazie? Is she all right?”