by Lora Leigh
It wasn’t shame that held her back. It was that debilitating fear. That overriding knowledge of the risk he could bring to her soul and her survival.
It wasn’t one of her brightest moments, though, she admitted, but definitely one of her most honest.
He turned back to her, his hands pushing the edges of his silk business jacket back as he shoved them into the pockets of his nicely pressed blue jeans.
That was a rancher. Jeans and a silk business jacket.
It was standard for for this particular baron of Corbin County, as he and his two cohorts were called.
His head tilted to the side as he watched her carefully, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
“What a contradiction of expressions on your face,” he mused thoughtfully. “Tell me, Ms. Flannigan, is he aware you’re in love with him?”
A frown jerked between her brows. “I’m not in love with, Rafer, Mr. Roberts. There are just—” She paused. Her teeth clenched as she fought for the reason. “There are just things between us. That’s all.”
“Things?” Arrogant and mocking, and fully aware of his own sense of knowledge, the arch of that dark brow assured her he believed otherwise.
“Exactly. Just things.” She cocked her hip as her arms tightened over her breasts. “Do you mind telling me what you need? I’m rather busy with lesson plans and so forth tonight.”
If he intended to threaten her with her job, then she would allow him the opportunity now rather than later.
He didn’t speak immediately. He just continued to stare at her thoughtfully for long moments. Finally, he gave a small shake of his head as his lips quirked knowingly.
“I’m going to assume you’re aware you could lose every friend or acquaintance you have in this county,” he said then, his voice soft. “Tell me, Ms. Flannigan, are you certain you want to continue in this relationship that seems to be developing between you and Rafer, considering the risks and losses you’re looking at?”
Someone else who called him Rafer.
She could see the frown on Rafer’s face now, especially considering the fact that there had been times it had seemed he was uncertain if he wanted her calling him by the full version of his name.
“He doesn’t like being called Rafer,” she stated. “He only tolerates it from me, you know.”
And she was rather possessive of the privilege. Rafer had been known to get into fistfights over that name. But it seemed to suit him so very well.
“He’s never tolerated it from anyone else, but his full given name is Marshal Rafer Callahan,” he stated, and for a moment she saw something, sensed something she never had in her life. Pure, icy grief. “His mother loved her father,” he said softly then.
And the rumor had been that the father had cherished his daughter.
“Your middle name is Rafer?”
“As is his,” he inclined his head slowly. “But you’re digressing, Ms. Flannigan, and being much too curious. I asked you a question.”
“My friends won’t walk away if they’re my friends.” She shrugged. “If they do walk away, then I don’t need them in my life.”
His lips quirked as an expression of insultingly sardonic amazement crossed his face. “How incredibly innocent. And stupid.” He paused then, his jaw tightening before he said, “Haven’t you already lost one friend because of the Callahans? I believe she even told my granddaughter that you were so besotted with him and the child you carried for such a short time that nothing else mattered to you.”
She breathed in deeply, fighting the pain that wanted to tear at her soul. She couldn’t believe Amelia had actually told anyone in that horrible family about the child she carried.
“Does anyone else know?” she whispered, wondering if Rafe knew, or if there was a possibility of any of the Callahans learning of it.
He snorted at the thought. “My granddaughter told only me, and Amelia hasn’t even told her father as far as I know.”
Cami rather doubted that. If she had told Marshal Roberts’s granddaughter, supposedly her best friend and co-worker, then her father, Wayne Sorenson, knew as well.
She had prayed Amelia would keep that to herself.
“My granddaughter understands family loyalty,” he assured her as though it were a question. “Trust me, it wasn’t information we wanted bandied about.”
Of course it wasn’t. God forbid that the grandson he had disowned would dare to have children of his own. Or that any woman would desire to have his child.
“Did you have a drink to celebrate the loss of your great-grandchild, Mr. Roberts?” she asked painfully, certain he would have. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
Her voice rasped, the inability to hold back her pain in front of this man was galling.
“No, Ms. Flannigan, I did not.” The flash of some emotion she thought could have been regret flashed in his gaze. “I grieved, just as I grieved when I lost my daughter.”
“You still had your grandson. Did you grieve when you disowned him?” Anger was beginning to churn inside her now. What the hell made him think he was wanted here? “You’ve had more than twenty years to show him you grieved and what have you done, Mr. Roberts? Better yet, why are you even here?”
She didn’t want to deal with him. He had broken his grandson’s heart. If his daughter had been living, he would have destroyed her if what he said was true, and she had loved him so dearly she had named her only child after him.
“I’m here to reason with you, because you carried my great-grandchild at one time,” he said softly. “And because I know you grieved when you lost that child. I don’t want to see you hurt further, Ms. Flannigan. And regardless of what you think, I don’t want to see Rafer hurt anymore than he has already been. It may be in your best interests to consider severing the relationship now. Or convincing him to leave Colorado altogether. His chances at happiness would be greatly improved if he would do so.”
She frowned back for a moment. “Isn’t there some codicil in the inheritance his mother left him, and that was left to her, that states the heir can only be a resident of Corbin County? Not any other Colorado county or other state? And doesn’t it only give certain reasons why he can be away for more than a year, with the military being one of those reasons?”
He stared back at her for long moments, his gaze icy before his lips quirked, though the ice in his eyes remained.
“Touché, Ms. Flannigan,” he murmured. “Touché. And did Rafer give you these details?”
“He didn’t have to. The details are a matter of public record for anyone who cares to check,” she informed him.
“And of course, you cared enough about the man who fathered the child you lost to check,” he said softly.
It hurt. The memory of the child was like a deep, burning wound that refused to stop bleeding with bitterness, or aching with an agony she couldn’t dim whenever she allowed herself to think about it.
“Besides the point,” she retorted. “What makes you think you have the right to steal what his mother wanted him to have?”
“Because his mother knew it wasn’t hers to begin with,” he suddenly snapped before quickly turning his back on her, his shoulders bunching with the obvious anger surging through him.
When he turned back seconds later, his expression lacked any emotion whatsoever. “Is that inheritance more important than his happiness?” he finally asked, his voice dripping with ice.
“Evidently, as Rafer is still in Corbin County, it appears the two go hand in hand,” she retorted with mocking anger, her emphasis on the fact that he shouldn’t have to choose apparent.
As his lips parted, another question pushed past her lips almost unbidden as the thought came to her. “Are you the son of a bitch behind the threatening phone calls I’ve been getting? Because if you are, you can inform whoever you’ve put up to making them that they aren’t effective in the least. I will not be frightened away from something I want, Mr. Roberts. Or something I feel I deserve.”
He
seemed to freeze. For a second, she thought she might have seen fear flash in his eyes, but Marshal Roberts wasn’t a man known for feeling fear. To the contrary, he was known for being rather fearless in the face of most situations.
“No,” he finally said, his voice soft, his expression tightening and forming a hardened, emotionless cast. “I haven’t put anyone up to calling you, Ms. Flannigan, and definitely not to threaten you. Have you told the sheriff of the calls?”
“Not yet.” She’d had no intention of telling Archer. She preferred not to, suspecting the information might get back to Rafer.
She wasn’t certain if she was ready for that.
Slowly, his hand lifted, and for a second, every one of his near seventy years was reflected clearly on his face as he covered it with his hand.
Weariness slumped his shoulders and the image of a man at the end of a particular rope had Cami pausing for a second. It was gone as quickly as it had flashed across his face, though. If it had even been there to begin with.
“I would highly suggest alerting the sheriff to these calls,” he stated then. “And if I were you, I’d definitely tell Rafer. And then, it would be advisable, Ms. Flannigan, to sever the relationship building between the two of you.”
He was once again the arrogant, coldly commanding Marshal Roberts. The man who had disowned his grandson. The one who had stood stony-eyed at his daughter’s grave site, his son at his side, his granddaughter held in his arms as he deliberately separated himself from his only grandson.
“You can advise all you want, Mr. Roberts,” she told him with a sense of resignation. “Just as I advise Rafer on a constant basis, but it all comes down to him.” She grimaced, admitting to the one person she knew would never tell her secret. “I have an incredibly hard time telling your grandson ‘no’.”
For a second, just a second, his expression seemed to soften. The image of an old man who knew his grandson well flashed across his face. And if she wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a glimmer of pride as well.
“My wife, God rest her soul, told me the same thing once when we were very young,” he admitted, his gaze connecting with hers in a moment that seemed more connected than she would have liked with this man. “Take care of your yourself, Ms. Flannigan. And should Rafe not take no for an answer, then at least insist that he take careful measure of the security surrounding both of you.”
There was an edge to the words, a deliberate warning that had her arms dropping from her breasts as she confronted him.
“Is that a threat?” she asked carefully.
His gaze was heavy with shadows, and she suspected, knowledge. But it was a knowledge he was refusing to admit to.
“Regardless of belief, I’m no threat to my grandson,” he told her. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a threat that follows the Callahan family. A curse perhaps?” he suggested warily.
“You won’t threaten him, but you won’t save him either, is what you’re saying?” she guessed.
“I didn’t say that.” Now the anger was back. “I would never stand idly by and allow my grandson to be harmed any more than I stood idly and allowed my granddaughter to die.”
Cami could feel something in the air between them then, a tension that didn’t make sense, as though he were trying to tell her something, warn her of something.
“But Sam and Mina Callahan’s deaths were an accident,” she posed carefully. “Weren’t they?”
“Of course they were.” Emotionless. There was no inflection in his voice. “And this conversation never occurred.”
Her brow arched. “Do you think no one took notice of your pick-up, Mr. Robert?”
“It’s one of my ranch hands’.” He shrugged. “And think of this, Ms. Flannigan. To this point, I’ve actually been one of Rafer’s most staunch allies. Don’t make me his strongest enemy.”
Replacing the western hat on his head, he tilted the brim to fully shade his face before moving past her and unlocking the door.
He paused once again as she watched him silently. “I’m rather good at choosing those I reach out to,” he stated quietly. “You’ve hidden the loss of your child all these years, I suspect, to save Rafer from further pain.”
Cami breathed in roughly, the fact that he had realized that somehow easing a wound she hadn’t known she carried.
“What’s your point?” she asked, unable to hide the evidence of the tears that would come later.
“My point?” He finally turned his head to stare back at her. “I rather suspect you’ll tell no one of this visit. Unfortunately the one you need to hide it from the most will be the very one you ache to tell. Telling Rafer I was here could be a rather bad idea.”
Cami pushed her fingers wearily through her hair and blew out a hard, irritated breath. “If you know Rafer anywhere near as well as I do, then you know damned good and well he’s going to know exactly who it was, no matter the precautions you took. What the hell makes you think for a minute he can be fooled so easily?”
His eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t read minds.”
“He doesn’t have to,” she told him softly. “He has eyes and ears that no one suspects, Mr. Roberts. In forcing Rafer and his cousins to hide friendships and connections, you forced them to create bonds and spies. Have no doubt, for even a second, he’ll know, eventually. And then, I guess we’ll both have to deal with it.”
Silent, almost moody, he glared back at her before nodding shortly. Pulling the door open, he stepped to the porch, the panel closing quietly behind him.
As Cami walked over and secured each lock, she heard the truck start, and a second later, the sound of it pulling away from the side of the street could be heard.
How very, very strange, she thought.
And like Marshal Roberts, she truly hoped Rafer never, ever learned he was there.
That wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing.
CHAPTER 11
She was suffering.
Cami lay stretched out on the bed, a sheen of perspiration on her flesh several nights later her eyes closed. Need swamped her as she gritted her teeth and cursed Rafe until hell wouldn’t have had him several days later.
Because she was miserable. Because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t fight the burning arousal tormenting her.
The supple, firm vibrator lay pushed beneath her pillow, useless to her now. There had been a time when it had actually worked. When dragging it along the bare folds of her pussy had taken her close enough to the remembered feel of Rafe’s fingers and tongue on her flesh to allow her to work it slowly inside her cunt and, long minutes later, to find the release she so desperately needed. There had been a time when she had known he wasn’t close enough to go to, and her body had allowed a little alternate pleasure.
It simply didn’t work anymore.
The feel of the battery-operated toy wasn’t even close to the feel of his fingers and tongue, let alone the sensation of his cock working inside her. The heated stretch and burn of his iron-hard flesh was so much more extreme. It was thicker, hotter, throbbing inside her powerfully instead of the weak, pale imitation of the artificial vibrator. He had ruined her, that was all there was to it. No other man, no other touch would do.
She gritted her teeth and bit off a furious expulsion of breath. She was too scared it would turn into a scream of pure frustration. Because she was so damned horny she was on the verge of calling him and begging him to fuck her.
She could jump in her car; it wouldn’t take that long to drive to his ranch. There were still some icy spots on the road, but most of the snow had actually been removed. She could knock on his door again and spend the night letting him fuck this need for him out of her system.
Sitting up in the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees and pushed her fingers through her hair, further ruffling the shortened strands as the hardened bud of her clit throbbed in misery.
If she could just get off a little bit, then it would help. Just take the damned pressure off o
r something. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how long she tried, it wasn’t happening.
If she just hadn’t been so insane as to take the mountain road that night and find herself snowbound with him. She wouldn’t be in this position. She wouldn’t be aching for him until she was certain it would drive her insane. Or was this why she had taken the longer, more mountainous route home from Aspen rather than the more direct drive along the interstate? Had that building need, that hunger she couldn’t control, been working on her subconsciously? Creating a situation that left her with little choice? Because consciously she had known what would happen if she were to be stranded at the ranch. She had known the need pulling at her would have taken care of the rest.
The hunger was a craving that never seemed to completely dissipate. She was like an addict, strung out in desperation for that next hit. Her body demanding its fix.
That was how she felt. Addicted to Rafer Callahan. Now wasn’t that a fine fix to find herself in.
As she cursed herself silently for the weakness, the low, muted buzz of her phone on the bed stand had her reaching out quickly for it and pressing the call button.
It could be the nursing home calling about her mother. Cami hadn’t heard from them all week. She could have checked the caller ID, but she didn’t want to know it wasn’t Rafer. She wanted to hope, to believe, until the last possible second—
“Hello?”
“I’m at the back door; let me in.”
Rafe.
Her eyes closed as her heart immediately began racing in a hard, excited rhythm. Her body immediately sensitized further. She could feel her heart racing, demanding as though the need had somehow summoned him. He was there, a dark male hunger rasping his already deep voice.
Hunger flooded her system, stronger, hotter than ever as she felt her juices flooding the flushed, heated tissue of her pussy.
“You shouldn’t be here, Rafer. Go home.” It was all she could do to push the words past her lips and make the demand.
“Do you have company, Cambria?” The silky menace in his tone assured her it was a damn good thing she did not have company. The dominance in it had her breathing increasing; the sense of possession and determination rolling across the line shouldn’t have been so erotic.
