“Yeah, I know.”
“I’m not wearing one now, either.”
Her voice had dropped an octave between one confession and the next. It was huskier now, more seductive. The sound of it flowed through him like whiskey, warming his insides and dulling his mind.
“Fiona,” he began desperately, sure that she was purposely trying to drive him mad.
“Come on in, Clay. The water’s great.”
He stared at the shadowed form of her head, unable to make out the features of her face. But he didn’t need to see her to remember what she looked like. Her presence in his house the past week was proof enough of that. He had only to think her name and an image of her filled his mind.
Without even knowing why he was doing it, Clay found himself toeing off his boots and peeling off his socks. Straightening, he heard her soft laughter as he stripped off his jacket and drew his shoulder holster and gun over his head to set aside. The sound of her laughter echoed in his mind as he dived into the water, a siren’s song in the darkness that drew him to her. He surfaced within feet of her, now able to make out the features of her face.
Her beauty was breathtaking, heartbreaking. He tread water, staring, not daring to draw any closer for fear he would find she was nothing but a mirage, which would vaporize if he found the courage to touch her. He saw that tears gleamed in her eyes, noted the tremble of her lower lip and wondered at them.
“You came.”
Her words were a choked whisper and filled with so much emotion, so much longing, he felt them to the core of his being.
“Fiona—” he said, then stopped, unsure what he’d intended to say.
“I love you, Clay,” she whispered.
He stiffened. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t love me.”
“I do!” she cried.
“You don’t!”
She reached out, her touch nothing more than the hesitant brush of a fingertip against his cheek, yet he crumpled, as if she’d hit him with a strong right to the jaw.
“No,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the pleasure of her touch, the need to hold her. “Please, don’t do this.”
He felt a surge of water against his chest and opened his eyes to find she had moved and was now only inches from him.
“Tell me you don’t love me,” she said, her lip quivering.
He stared into eyes as green as new spring leaves and saw the pain there, the hope, the need. He shook his head, pushing her hand away from his face. “No, Fiona. No.”
“Say it!” she demanded. “Say it, and I’ll let you go and never bother you again, I swear.”
He opened his mouth to voice the lie, but the words wouldn’t come. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about you, Fiona. You don’t need me. You never did.”
Her eyes flashed, then turned hard. “How dare you think you know my needs better than I. I love you. Not at first. My love for you grew slowly. And you grew to love me, too. I know you did.”
He gathered his strength around him like a shield to safeguard his heart, while trying his best to protect hers. “Fiona, do you have any idea how much you’ve grown over the last few weeks, how much you’ve changed? You’ve only just begun to discover your capabilities, your talents. You can do anything you set your mind to, be anyone you want to be. If you stayed married to me, it wouldn’t be long before you realized how much you’d sacrificed, how much you’d lost. Then you’d begin to resent me. Maybe not at first. But at some point in the future you’d regret having married me and want out.”
He waited for some kind of response from her. Something, anything to indicate that she understood. But she simply stared, her chest rising and falling in deep, angry breaths.
When she did speak, her words cut through him like a knife.
“I always thought you were brave,” she said, her voice accusing. “Courageous, bigger than life. But you’re nothing but a coward. I’m amazed they even let you wear the Texas Ranger badge.”
“Now wait just a damn minute, I—”
“No,” she shot back, “you wait. I love you. I know that and I’m willing to admit it. And I know, too, that you love me. But you are so afraid I’m going to leave you, that at some undefined point in time I’m going to break your heart, you won’t allow yourself to believe that I could truly love you. Well, I do,” she said, her voice rising in both tempo and emotion. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, I love you and always will.”
Clay gulped, not wanting to trust her, yet wanting desperately to do nothing less. “Fiona…”
She sniffed. “What?”
“I love you.”
She froze, her arms stilling in the water, her eyes growing wide. When she began to sink, she tread water again. “Wh-what did you say?”
“I love you.” He smiled, unable to believe how good it felt to say those three words, then said them again, simply because he could. “I love you.”
She pushed out a hand. “No! Wait!” She latched on to his arm and started swimming one-armed for the other end of the pool, dragging him behind her.
When she reached shallow water, she stood and released him. “Now say that again.”
“What? That I love you?”
She gulped, nodding. “Yes, that.”
He looped his arms low on her waist and pulled her toward him. “Fiona Carson Martin, I love you with all my heart.”
She brought her hands to her face, templing them over her nose and mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. “Oh, that is so sweet. So incredibly sweet.”
Lights blazed overhead.
Clay winced, throwing up a hand to protect his eyes. “What the hell?”
“Fiona?” a voice called from the shadows.
Fiona huffed in exasperation. “Not now, Flynt!” she shouted. “He’s just getting to the good part.”
Another light blinked on, this time the fixture embedded in the pool wall at the opposite end.
Clay immediately grabbed Fiona and shoved her farther under the water, trying to hide her nudity.
“Turn out that damn light!” he ordered angrily.
There was a spattering of laughter, then the pool light was snuffed out. Clay turned slowly to frown at Fiona. “How many people knew about this, besides your brother?”
She hunched her shoulders to her ears and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know exactly. Ten or twelve, I guess.”
Clay whipped his head around to peer into the dark shadows beyond the lights. “And they’ve seen and heard everything.”
Since he’d phrased his concern as a statement rather than a question, Fiona didn’t bother to respond. Which was just as well. He’d probably strangle her if he knew that she’d fudged a bit on the number. She’d enlisted the aid of at least twenty people to assist her with her plan to get Clay to admit that he loved her.
The overhead lights snapped off, plunging them into darkness again.
“We’re leaving now, Fiona,” Flynt called.
“Thanks, Flynt,” she called back.
“Bye, Fiona.”
“Bye, Fiona.”
“Check you later, Fiona.”
“Don’t forget to return the robe to the spa, Fiona,” a female voice called.
“And the keys! Don’t forget the keys.”
The farewells and reminders went on for another full minute before quiet finally settled over the pool area again.
When Clay continued to stare at the darkness, Fiona felt a stab of unease. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
He turned slowly to face her, his expression incredulous. “Who were all those people?”
“Well, Flynt you already know about,” she began. “Then there was Ginger. She lent me the robe from the spa. Phil was there. He was the one who signaled me to let me know when you arrived.”
“Signaled you?” he repeated.
“Yes.” She turned to point at the parking lot security light. “Phil dimmed the light when you drove through the front g
ate of the club.” She turned back to him. “And George lent me his keys.”
“Keys to what?”
“The spa and the gate to the pool area. And I think I heard Victor’s voice in there somewhere.”
“The massage therapist?”
“Yes. He must have come out of curiosity or maybe support. I don’t really know—I didn’t ask him to do anything. Oh, and the really deep voice,” she continued, “that was Hugo. He was the muscle.”
“Muscle?” Clay repeated.
“Yes,” she said, looking at him as if surprised that he’d ask the question. “I was nude, after all. If you hadn’t shown up, no telling what might’ve happened to me. Hugo was here if I needed saving.”
Clay threw back his head and laughed.
She peered at him curiously. “What’s so funny?”
He hugged her to him. “You are. I’ve never known a woman who had the ability to move a mountain without lifting so much as a finger.”
She dropped her mouth open. “I did so lift a finger! I planned the whole thing, plus, may I remind you, I was the one who stripped down to nothing and treaded water for I don’t know how long just to make you notice me.”
“Oh, I noticed you all right,” he said, bringing her hips to his. “But you don’t have to strip for me to do that.”
A smile of wonder spread across her face. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. “Oh, Clay. I’m so happy right now I could cry.”
He pushed back to look at her. “Will you be happy living out on the ranch with me?”
She caught his face between her hands and looked deeply into his eyes, showing him her heart. “I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
He covered her hands with his. “Then let’s go home, Fiona. Let’s go home.”
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Peggy Moreland for her contribution to the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB series.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7206-8
AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE
Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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An Arranged Marriage Page 18
