“I had business to take care of,” he said. “The business of keeping you safe, of making sure nothing happens to you or Allen or Miss Carol.”
“Roarke was protecting us. Just what were you doing?”
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Deborah? Why are you so angry?”
“I’m not angry.” He took several steps toward her; she backed farther and farther away. “I was worried. You left here to go see Buck Stansell. You told us you’d be late, but you’ve been gone nearly five hours. For all I knew, you’d been killed or—”
Ashe charged across the room, drew her into his arms and held her close. “I’m fine, honey. You shouldn’t have worried about me. I told you that I know how to handle Buck Stansell and his type.”
Hell, she’d been worried about him. He should have called to let her know he was all right. But he wasn’t used to having anyone worry about him.
Deborah clung to Ashe, running her hands up and down his arms, clutching him as she laid her head on his chest. She knew she was acting irrationally, but she couldn’t help herself. With each passing minute that she had waited for Ashe, she’d grown more tense, more worried, more concerned that Buck Stansell might have killed him.
Smelling his jacket, she jerked her head up and looked at him, then pulled out of his arms. He’d been with a woman, someone who bathed in her perfume.
Deborah glared at him, her small hands tightening into fists. She’d been worried sick about him and he’d been with another woman! Damn him! She’d been a fool to trust Ashe McLaughlin, to believe she was the only woman in his life.
“You smell like a very expensive French whore!”
Ashe laughed. “Actually, I smell like a fairly cheap Alabama whore.”
He had left the house hours ago, on a mission to confront Buck Stansell. She’d been half out of her mind with worry. When hours passed and he didn’t return, didn’t call, she had imagined all sorts of terrible things, but she certainly hadn’t thought that he was with another woman.
“I’ve spent the last two hours crazy with worry, scared to death that something had happened to you, and you’ve been with some woman!”
Ashe covered his mouth to conceal his chuckle. He’d never seen Deborah this jealous, not even over Whitney. Did she honestly think that he’d been fooling around with someone else? Didn’t she realize that he couldn’t see anyone except her, that she was the only woman he wanted, that thoughts of her filled his every waking moment?
“Don’t you dare stand there and laugh about it!”
“Your life is in danger,” Ashe said. “There could be a contract out on you and what are you worried about? You’re worried about whether or not I’ve been out messing around with another woman.”
Dammit, he couldn’t believe this! She honestly thought he’d touch another woman when he could have her.
“I don’t care who you…you…mess around with!”
Ashe came toward her, taking slow, determined steps. He shoved Deborah against the kitchen wall, then braced his hands on each side of her head. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen very carefully. I have not been having sex with another woman. I don’t want or need another woman. There has been no one else in my life since the day I came back to Sheffield.”
Deborah’s breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing. She stared Ashe right in the eye, her gaze hard, her lips trembling, her cheeks flushed. “Then I suppose what I smell on you is some sort of new aftershave.”
Ashe leaned down, touching her lips with his. When she turned her head, he reached out and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to face him. “What you smell is Evie Lovelady’s perfume. She wrapped herself around me when I arrived at the Sweet Nothings club tonight to meet with Buck.”
“Evie Lovelady?” Deborah spat the woman’s name out between clenched teeth. “You and she used to be quite an item if I recall correctly.”
“Evie and most of the guys I hung out with used to be an item. Now she’s a happily married woman with three kids. She’s Buck’s wife.”
“So you had to get reacquainted with Evie before your meeting with Buck Stansell.” Deborah tried to pull out of Ashe’s grip. He leaned forward, trapping her against the wall with his body. “Let me go. I’ve had enough!”
Ashe rubbed his body against Deborah’s, then released his hold on her chin, only to pull her into his arms. “I had no idea I’d come home to this. A jealous woman ready to scratch out my eyes.”
“I’m not jealous. I have no reason to be, do I? We haven’t made a commitment to each other. We haven’t promised each other anything.” She couldn’t bear having him this close, his hard body pressed intimately against her, his arms holding her tightly. “Just let me go, Ashe. I’m tired and I need some rest. Unless Buck Stansell confessed to trying to kill me and has promised to leave me alone, I think any discussion about your visit with him can wait till morning.”
Her jealousy aroused him as much as it irritated and amused him. He had no intention of letting her go to bed angry and hurt and filled with jealous rage.
Ashe lowered his hands to her buttocks, lifting her up and against his arousal. “I’ve been with Ed Burton for the last couple of hours, discussing my visit with Buck and going over the best way to end this nightmare for you and your family.”
“You’ve been with the police?” She gasped when he began inching her robe and gown upward, gathering more and more of the material in his hands.
He hadn’t been in bed with Evie Lovelady. He hadn’t been enjoying himself with another woman while she sat at home worrying about him. She should have trusted Ashe. She should have known he wouldn’t betray her.
“Buck claims he ended his harassment of you when Lon Sparks was convicted. He says someone else is after you.” Ashe buried his face against her neck, nibbling, licking, kissing.
She squirmed in his arms. “You—you don’t believe him, do—do you?” She could hardly breathe. The blood rushed to her head, her knees weakened, her body moistened.
“I’m not sure.”
He reached under the bunched material he held against her buttocks and stroked her tenderly, then ran his hand up her back, loosening the tie belt of her robe. Nuzzling her soft flesh with his nose, he parted the robe in front, uncovering the rise of her breasts exposed by the low-cut nightgown. He took her tight nipple in his mouth, biting her gently through the maroon silk and ecru lace bodice. Deborah moaned with sweet pleasure.
He wanted her. Wanted her bad. He hurt with the need to take her. Here. Now. Hard and fast.
“We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” he said, his breath ragged. If he didn’t take her soon, he’d die.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed, reaching for his jacket, tugging it off his shoulders.
He covered her mouth, thrusting his tongue inside. She clung to his arms, holding onto his jacket sleeves, which she’d managed to bring down to his elbows. He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Deborah unbuttoned his shirt, quickly, ripping off the last two buttons in her haste. Ashe removed her silk robe, then pulled her gown down to her waist. He teased her aching nipples with the tips of his fingers. Closing her eyes, she threw her head back and sighed, deep in her throat.
“Deborah,” he moaned her name. “Honey…how I want you.”
She reached out to touch his chest, moving her hand back and forth from one pebble-hard nipple to the other, curling her fingers in his hair. Lowering her head, she licked one nipple and then the other. She stroked his shoulder holster, then reached around and under his shirt to caress his back, her nails biting into his flesh as she urged him to take her.
Clutching the sides of her gown, he eased it down her hips. It fell into a dark red circle at her feet. He lifted her breasts in his hands, as if testing their weight, then put his mouth on her, suckling her while she unbuckled his belt and lowered his zipper.
Deborah clung to his shoulder, her body aching with desperate need. Her breasts felt heavy, almost pai
nful. Her body clenched and released, dampening, throbbing, ready for the ultimate pleasure.
When Ashe touched her most sensitive spot, she cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand, realizing she should be quiet. Somewhere in the back of her desire-crazed mind, she knew they were not alone in the house, that they were insane for taking such a risk.
He took her hand and placed it around him, telling her without words what he wanted. They stroked and petted each other, then Ashe removed her sheathing hand and whipped her around to face the wall. She shivered. He lifted her hair off her neck and kissed her, then covered her shoulders and back with kisses and stinging little nips which he followed with moist tongue caresses.
When he dropped to his knees behind her, Deborah squirmed and tried to turn around. He held her in place, his hand parting her thighs, his fingers seeking and finding the secret heart of her femininity. All the while he fondled her, he lavished attention on her buttocks, kissing every inch of her sweet, womanly flesh.
Deborah became wild with her need, pleading in soft, almost incoherent words for him to end the torture and take her. When he turned her to face him, she grasped his shoulders and urged him to stand. Instead, he buried his face against her stomach, then nuzzled her intimately and spread her thighs farther apart. While his mouth brought her to the brink of fulfillment, his hands tormented her nipples.
The moment she fell apart, shattering her into a thousand pieces as if she’d been a glass doll, Ashe lifted her in his arms, carried her a few steps over to the kitchen table and set her down. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, he parted her thighs and plunged into her. He filled her completely. The aftershocks of her first release surged within her, gripping him as he invaded her hard and fast, with a fury born of a desire he could not control. The tension built again, higher and higher, and Deborah clung to him. He groaned, then shook from head to toe as he thrust into her one last time, emptying himself as unbearable pleasure claimed them both.
They kissed, again and again. He left her on the table while he picked up their scattered clothes. Her gown and robe. His jacket. Tossing the items over his arm, he lifted her and carried her out of the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs.
He deposited her in her bed, kissed her on the tip of her nose and looked into her blue, blue eyes.
“Stay the night with me.” She clung to him, her arms still draped around his neck.
“And what if Miss Carol or Allen find me in here in the morning?”
“Lock the door.”
He smiled and nodded his head. “I’ll go back to my room before daylight.”
He tossed their clothes on the foot of the bed, pulled out of her embrace and locked the bedroom door. Returning to her side, Ashe lay down and took her into his arms. Tomorrow he would tell her about his meeting with Buck Stansell. Tomorrow they would discuss the possibility that someone else might have a reason to want her dead. But tonight they would keep the rest of the world at bay, they would forget everything and everyone except each other.
He could think of nothing but making love to her all night long, taking her again and again, hearing her wild little cries of pleasure and the way she repeated his name.
For now, this heady, wild passion would be enough. And now was all that mattered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DEBORAH SAT IN the hospital waiting room, her head resting on Ashe’s shoulder, her eyes closed as she ended a prayer pleading with God to spare her mother’s life and keep them all safe and well. The doctors had warned them after the first surgery that, although they had every reason to believe all the malignant tissue had been removed, there was always a chance the cancer could return. Now they faced a second cancer, a second surgery.
As if her mother’s life hanging in the balance wasn’t enough to worry about, Deborah now had to face the possibility that someone other than Buck Stansell was behind the recent threats on her life. Ashe had told her that he had considered waiting until after her mother’s surgery before burdening her with Buck’s denials and accusations. But with her life, and possibly Allen’s, in danger from an unknown source, Ashe felt it necessary she be informed.
Ashe. Ashe. He was like a tower of strength, an endless source of comfort and protection. She could not imagine her life without him. She loved him more now than she ever had, and he had become such an integral part of her life, of all their lives, especially Allen’s.
Allen hero-worshiped Ashe, adored him the way so many ten-year-olds adored their fathers. But neither Ashe nor Allen knew their true relationship, and Deborah’s guilt at keeping the truth from them ate away at her conscience and broke her heart by slow degrees.
“Ms. Vaughn?” Missy Jenkins, a young LPN for whom Deborah had found a house a few months earlier, stood in the waiting-room doorway.
“May we see Mother now?” Deborah asked.
“Yes. She’ll be going in to surgery in about thirty-five minutes, if the doctor’s schedule doesn’t change.” Missy’s smile made her rather homely face brighten to a certain degree of cuteness. “She’ll be getting groggy soon, so you’d better go on in.”
Ashe stood, assisted Deborah to her feet and kept his arm around her waist as they walked down the hall. Deborah eased open the door to Carol’s private room. Her mother looked so thin and pale lying there on pristine white sheets, an IV connected to her arm.
Carol opened her eyes and smiled. “Good morning, my dears. Come in. They’ve given me something and I’ll be a babbling idiot soon.”
Ashe stood beside Deborah, who leaned down and hugged her mother gently, kissing her forehead. “Roarke is bringing Allen by before he takes him to school. I expect they’ll be here any minute.”
“Such a precious child,” Carol said. “So much like you, Deborah.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Ashe, thank you for coming back to Sheffield, for keeping watch over us, for bringing Roarke here to help you.” Carol closed her eyes, then reopened them, focusing her gaze on Deborah. “I want to talk to you while I still can. I want you to promise me that—”
“Mother, this can wait until you’re feeling better.” Deborah patted Carol’s hand.
“Ashe, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes.” Carol glanced over her daughter’s shoulder at the big man standing guard. “Mother-daughter talk. You understand?”
Ashe squeezed Deborah’s shoulder. “I’ll be in the waiting room. As soon as Allen arrives, I’ll bring him down here.”
The moment Ashe closed the door behind him, Carol Vaughn looked up at Deborah. “I may not live through this surgery, and if I don’t—”
“Mother, please, you mustn’t talk this way.”
Carol held up a hand in restraint. “Hush up. We both know there’s a chance that the cancer has spread this time.”
“We have to be optimistic, to think only positive thoughts.”
“And we shall do just that, but…I want you to promise me you’ll tell Ashe the truth about Allen.”
“Mother, please…please, don’t ask that of me. Not now. Not this way.”
Carol gripped Deborah’s hand with an amazing amount of strength. “Must I beg you to do this? I begged your father, years ago, not to make us all live a lie. If I had been stronger and stood up to him, none of us would be faced with this dilemma now.”
“I’m in love with Ashe. We’re lovers. I keep telling myself that he won’t leave me this time, that he cares enough to stay. But I’m not sure how he really feels about me, so how can I tell him that I gave birth to his child over ten years ago and have kept that child from him? What if Ashe hates me?”
“Ashe cares deeply for you. He always did.” Carol motioned for Deborah to come into her arms.
Deborah cuddled close to her mother’s comforting body, careful not to bear her weight on Carol’s thin frame. “What if I tell Ashe the truth and he tells Allen?”
“I don’t think Ashe will tell Allen. Not now.” Carol stroked Deborah’s hair, petting
her in a loving, motherly fashion. “But you must tell Ashe. Tell him now. Don’t wait. Do this for me. Consider it a last request.”
“Mother!” Deborah jerked away from Carol, tears filling her eyes. “Please, don’t ask this of me.”
“I am asking,” Carol said. “Tell Ashe that he is Allen’s father. Tell him today.”
“I can’t!” Deborah turned away from her mother, tears trickling down her cheeks. She swatted them away with the tips of her fingers.
“You must tell him, Deborah. If you don’t, Mattie will. She won’t continue keeping our secret. And someday, you and Ashe must tell Allen the truth. He has a right to know.”
Deborah swallowed her tears. Her mother was right. The lie had gone on long enough. It was one thing to keep the truth from Ashe when he wasn’t a part of their lives, but now that he had come to mean so much to Allen, now that she had fallen in love with him all over again, it was wrong to keep the truth from him.
“I promise I’ll tell him,” Deborah said.
“Today?”
“Yes. Today.”
At that precise moment Ashe knocked twice, opened the door and escorted Allen into Carol’s room. Ashe glanced at Miss Carol, then at Deborah’s tear-stained face. His eyes questioned her silently. She shook her head, saying “Not now,” and went over to stand by Allen at her mother’s bedside.
ASHE WASN’T A man who prayed often, and most people wouldn’t call his supplications to a higher power prayers. He wasn’t a religious man, wasn’t a churchgoer, but he’d been in enough tight situations to know that even the unbelievers called on God for help when all else failed.
Ashe felt a bit out of place in this small hospital chapel. He could remember the last time he’d been in a house of worship. It was a funeral. Another soldier who hadn’t made it back to the U.S. alive. A friend whose body had been shipped home.
He knew Deborah was having a difficult time dealing with her mother’s surgery and the threats on her own life. It infuriated him that he could do so little to make things easier for her. At the moment, he felt helpless. He might be able to stand between her and danger, to protect her physically, but he hated being unable to defend her against her own fear and sadness.
Witness Page 22
