Exquisite Acquisitions

by Charlene Sands

  She bent toward the rope.

  “Salima,” Cosmo warned.

  The Rayasian man gave a cold chuckle, switching to his native tongue. “You were a princess long before you were his wife.”

  He was right. She was a princess.

  She rose, squaring her shoulders, speaking in the most imperious tone she could muster. “I am your princess. And I order you to let him go.”

  A brief hesitation flashed through the man’s eyes. Were they in Rayas, he would be instantly arrested for disobeying.

  But they weren’t in Rayas. And his surprise quickly turned to a lecherous smirk. “Very soon, we will be alone, you and I. And you will not like my rules.”

  “What’s he saying?” Cosmo demanded.

  “You would not dare touch me.” But her stomach clenched, and she could feel the blood drain from her face.

  A salacious smile curved the man’s lips. “Who would believe a lying traitor like you?”

  “What is he saying?” Cosmo repeated.

  “That he’s going to rape me.” She looked directly into Cosmo’s eyes. “But he’s going to have to kill me first.”

  In fact, he was going to have to kill her before he got to Cosmo, or to the seaman.

  She rushed boldly forward.

  Cosmo shouted something unintelligible. He jumped in front of her, his fist connecting with the Rayasian man’s face, dislodging the knife, sending it clattering to the floor.

  The seaman lurched forward, knocking Salima onto the bed. The Rayasian man’s fist connected with Cosmo’s chin, sending him reeling. Cosmo recovered, and they squared off. Salima eyed the knife on the far side of the room.

  The man hit Cosmo in the side of the head. He wrapped a beefy arm around Cosmo’s neck, pulling hard, tightening the noose.

  “Cosmo!” Salima heard herself scream. She scrambled to her feet.

  But before she could reach them, Cosmo broke free. He dove for the knife, grasping it, rolling onto his back as the man lunged. The knife plunged into the man’s heart. His eyes went wide. His mouth opened in shock. And he went immediately limp.

  Cosmo shoved the Rayasian off as Salima rushed to his side.

  The seaman came to his feet. “That was clear-cut self-defense,” he asserted.

  Cosmo rose, speaking distinctly and concisely to the seaman. “I don’t want to have to explain this.”

  After a moment’s silence, the seaman nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” Then the seaman reflexively rubbed his throat, his palm coming away with a smear of blood. “Let me take you to another cabin.”

  Salima buried her face in Cosmo’s shoulder as they made their way down the passage and up three flights of stairs.

  The seaman unlocked a door, showing them into a spacious stateroom. “A last-minute cancellation,” he told them. “This is one of Titanic’s finest first-class cabins.”

  Salima couldn’t seem to stop shaking. There was a roaring in her ears as Cosmo spoke to the seaman, and unshed tears blurred her eyes. She barely noticed the opulent furnishings, the giant, canopied bed, the picture window and the rich red-and-gold wallpaper, decorated with dazzling light fixtures and carved wood accents.

  She was vaguely aware of the door closing and locking, a popping sound and then Cosmo’s arm supporting her once more.

  They moved to an emerald-green sofa. He sat, drawing her down onto his lap. Then he placed a glass of champagne in her hands.

  “Drink,” he instructed.

  Her fingers felt numb on the long stem of the glass, and her voice quavered when she spoke. “He was trying to kill you.”

  Cosmo stroked her hair. “I’m a soldier, Salima. People have been trying to kill me half my life. So far, no luck.”

  “You’re joking again.”

  “It’s the truth. Stop worrying.”

  “I can’t.” But she took an experimental sip of the champagne. Rayas women didn’t drink alcohol, so she didn’t know what to expect. The liquid was sweet on her tongue and soothing to her dry throat, and she downed the rest.

  “Take it easy,” Cosmo advised.

  “It’s all my fault.” She spoke as much to herself as to him. She’d known the risks. “I gave away the Gold Heart statue.”

  She held out her glass, and he poured from the bottle. “The statue is what got me out of jail,” Cosmo said.

  “But now it’s cursed.”

  “Drink slower this time,” he advised.

  She nodded, then downed the glass.

  Cosmo chuckled, resting his forehead against her hair. “I adore you.”

  “The curse has doomed our love.” She’d heard the stories, the legend of the three statues. Her eight times great-grandfather had presented them to his daughters with a warning. Subsequent generations had protected them, and their luck had held.

  Cosmo slowly opened a front button on her wedding dress. “It’s not doomed from where I’m sitting.”

  She watched in fascination as his square hand moved to the next button, and the next. Her bodice gaped open, revealing her lacy white bra. He slipped his hand beneath her dress, around her waist, drawing her into a passionate kiss.

  The champagne glass slipped from her fingers to bounce against the thick carpet. Her pulse tripped to double time, her arousal combining with the buzz of the champagne. Shyness vanishing, replaced by a sense of urgency, she pushed off his suit jacket, struggling with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers.

  He groaned her name, his hand closing over her breast. A sensation jolted through her body, zipping to the apex of her thighs, leaving a glow in its wake.

  She gasped, and he stroke his thumb across her nipple.

  “What—”

  “Trust me,” he urged while his other hand slipped up her thigh, coming to the lacy panties beneath.

  Cosmo’s hands were traveling to the most intimate places of her body, and she didn’t care. He stroked her through the flimsy silk. She held her breath, cataloging the new and amazing sensations his touch evoked.

  He kissed her deeply, and she met his tongue, her body awash in heat and need. Her hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself. He stripped off her panties. Then his fingers explored her moist flesh, pushing deeply inside.

  “So hot,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want you so much.”

  He pushed up her voluminous dress, revealing her nudity. The bodice gaped open. She didn’t care. She arched against him, desperate to feel his touch.

  He loosened his pants, shifting her to sit astride him. His sex pressed intimately against her.

  “Like this?” she gasped in astonishment.

  “Like this.” His hand moved between them.

  White-hot jolts of sensation quivered her thighs. She could feel him against her, stretching her body, pulsing, invading. He felt enormous.

  “Don’t,” she tried to protest.

  But he silenced her with a kiss, clamping her tight against him as he slid home.

  It hurt. A little. Maybe. But then the ache was miraculously replaced with need. He moved inside her, and sparks showered her brain. She jolted back in shock, her eyes flying open.

  He was watching her, eyes midnight dark with passion.

  He stroked again, causing another shower of sparks.

  Her mouth formed an O.

  He smiled, flexing his hips once more.

  “Oh, my,” she breathed, arching her hips as a growing pulse gained strength between them.

  “If this is doomed,” he groaned, capturing her mouth and increasing his rhythm, “then I’ll gladly take it.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of His Marriage to Remember by Kathie DeNosky!

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  One

  Standing in the hospital waiting room, Bria wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to chase away the chills. It did no good. In spite of the fact that it was early June in Texas and already extremely warm, she couldn’t seem to stop shivering.

  Terror like nothing she had ever known had clawed at her insides as she’d helplessly watched the angry bull slam Sam into the fence, then pummel his limp body repeatedly with its large head. Thankfully, the bull didn’t have horns and therefore Sam hadn’t sustained any puncture wounds, nor had he been stepped on by the massive animal. Nate and Sam’s foster brothers had immediately jumped into action and diverted the bull’s attention as quickly as they could. But it seemed as if they’d all moved in slow motion and took forever to get the beast away from him so the emergency medical crew could move in and take over.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. There was no getting around it, she was responsible for Sam’s accident. If she had only waited for another day, another time to bring the divorce papers for him to sign or if he hadn’t seen her and been distracted, she wouldn’t be standing in the waiting room while he underwent tests to see just how badly he was injured.

  But the rodeo was only a two-hour drive from her new home in Dallas and she had wanted to get the papers signed and everything finalized before she started her new job as a marketing consultant for one of the major department stores. If she hadn’t run into a traffic jam on the interstate, she would have arrived with plenty of time to get things taken care of and left before the dangerous bull-riding event even started.

  Her breath caught on a sob. It didn’t matter why she had been running late or that she had wanted to get on with her life. Sam was the one having to pay the price for her impatience.

  “Have you heard anything, Bria?” Nate called from somewhere behind her.

  Turning around, she watched Nate and his brothers hurrying down the hall toward the waiting-room entrance. Tall and ruggedly handsome, all five men were cowboys from the top of their wide-brimmed Resistol hats to their scuffed Justin boots. All six of the boys Hank Calvert had fostered had grown up to be extremely wealthy men, but to the outward eye, they were down to earth, hardworking cowboys who passed up designer clothing in favor of chambray shirts and jeans. Nate was Sam’s only biological sibling, but the other four men they called brothers couldn’t have meant more to them if they’d had the same blood flowing through their veins.

  “Th-They just took him…to the imaging department…for X-rays and a scan of his head,” she said, unable to keep her voice from cracking.

  Nate stepped forward and, putting his arms around her, pulled her to his broad chest. “He’s going to be all right, Bria.”

  “Sam’s as tough as nails,” Lane Donaldson added. The same age as Sam, Lane had a master’s degree in psychology that he used quite successfully as a professional poker player. Bria didn’t think she had ever seen the man look less confident.

  Ryder McClain, the most easygoing of the group, nodded. “Sam’s probably already being a pain in the butt about getting out of here.”

  “I hope all of you are right,” she said, feeling helpless.

  “Can I get you something, Bria? A cup of coffee or some water?” T. J. Malloy asked solicitously. He was the most thoughtful of the brothers, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised that T.J.’s concern extended to her.

  “Get some coffee for all of us, T.J.,” Nate commanded, without waiting for her to respond.

  “I’ll go with you to help carry everything,” Jaron Lambert offered, turning to follow T.J. Stopping, he turned back to ask, “Do you want anything else, Bria. Maybe something to eat?”

  “Thanks, Jaron, but I’m not hungry. I doubt that I could eat anything even if I was,” she said, thankful to have Sam’s brothers with her. They treated her like a sister and she was going to miss them terribly once the divorce was final and she was no longer part of their family.

  “Come on and sit down,” Nate said, guiding her over to a bank of chairs along the far wall. When she sat, he asked, “Did Sam regain consciousness in the ambulance on the way over here?”

  She shook her head. “I think he was starting to come around when they took him back to the examination room, but they told me I couldn’t stay with him and that the doctor would come out and talk to me when he knew something.”

  Unable to leave the rodeo they had coordinated to honor their late foster father, the men had sent her to the hospital with Sam, while they attended to dispatching the livestock Sam’s company had provided for the various events to the next rodeo on the schedule. She knew it had to be extremely hard for them not to have dropped everything to go with their brother to the hospital, but they had done their duty and seen to Sam’s interests when he couldn’t.

  “Is everything over with for this year’s memorial rodeo?” she asked, knowing the bull riding was usually the last scheduled event.

  “Yup, we got everything taken care of,” Lane said, lowering his lanky frame into one of the chairs. “There’s nothing for you to worry about right now, except being here for Sam.”

  “I wish they would come out and tell us something,” Bria said, unable to sit still any longer. She walked over to look down the hall toward the room where they had taken Sam.

  What could be taking so long? she wondered as she spotted T.J. and Jaron returning with several cups of coffee. The longer it took to hear something, the more worried she became.

  “Still no word?” T.J. asked as he stopped to hand her a cup. He had no sooner gotten the words out, when a man in blue scrubs and a white lab coat entered the waiting area.

  “Mrs. Rafferty?” he asked, walking over to her.

  As she braced herself for whatever news he came to deliver, Sam’s brothers rose to stand with her. “I’m Brianna Rafferty,” she said, surprised that her voice sounded strong when her nerves were anything but steady. “Is my hus…is Sam going to be all right?”

  “I’m Dr. Bailey, the neurologist on call this evening.” His expression gave no indication of what kind of news he had to tell them. “Let’s sit down and I’ll explain what’s going on with your husband.” Once they were all seated, he pulled up a chair to sit across from them. “Sam regained consciousness just before we took him to Imaging for the CT scan and X-rays, which is a good sign. And there was no evidence of broken bones.”

  Apparently sensing she needed support, Nate took her hand in his and asked the question that she couldn’t. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice, Doc?”

  “The scan showed that Sam suffered a severe concussion, but there were no signs of bleeding in his brain, which is good,” Dr. Bailey explained. “There is, however, some swelling.”

  “What does that mean?” Jaron demanded. With his raven hair and dark demeanor, Jaron was the type of man other men rarely had the nerve to cross.

  “There may or may not be complications.” Dr. Bailey met their worried gazes as he continued, “The next twenty-four hours should tell us if the cerebral edema will get worse. If that happens, we may have to take him into surgery to remove a section of his scull to relieve the pressure.”

  Bria covered her horrified gasp with her hand.

  “I really
don’t think that’s something we’ll have to do, Mrs. Rafferty,” Dr. Bailey hastily added. “I’ve been monitoring his condition since he was brought into the E.R. and the swelling doesn’t show signs of worsening. But even if that isn’t an issue, we’ll have to watch for other neurological problems that wouldn’t show up on a scan.”

  “What kinds of problems are we talking about here?” Ryder asked, looking as if he would like to punch something. A rodeo bull rider, normally the man was absolutely fearless. But Bria knew his frustration was a mask for the fear they all felt for Sam.

  “With brain injuries there’s always the possibility of memory loss, problems with reasoning abilities or a personality change,” the doctor answered. “I’m not saying any of those things are inevitable or that they would be permanent if they do present, just that there are those possibilities.”

  “Dear God, this can’t be happening,” she said as tears spilled down her cheeks. Sam was so strong, so self-assured, it was impossible to think that he might end up having problems. That she had played a part in his being injured in any way was almost more than she could bear. But she couldn’t live with herself if he had long-lasting problems because she’d chosen today to end their marriage.

  Nate protectively put his arm around her shoulders. “When will we be able to see him, Doc?”

  “We’ve put him in the Intensive Care Unit for closer observation and he’s resting comfortably. But two of you can go in to see him for a few minutes now, then again every two hours or so.” The doctor stood up and shook their hands. “I’ll let you know more after I assess his condition in the morning. For now, I’ll have one of the nurses direct you to the ICU waiting room upstairs.”

  As the man walked away, Jaron patted her arm. “It’s going to be okay, Bria. Sam will get through this without any of those problems.”

  “Sam’s tougher than anyone I’ve ever seen,” T.J. added. “I have no doubt he’ll be up and around in no time.”