by Nancy Gideon
Sylvia perched on the arm of his chair, a sleek smile almost disguising her irritation. “Your brothers don’t react as if my lips were poison.”
“Then go suck on their faces. What do you want?”
“You’re in a mood. I wanted to congratulate you on that mucho macho demonstration that impressed everyone except the little twit you were doing it for.”
“Thank you. That’s just what my mood needed to hear. If that’s all you wanted—”
“I want to get paid. I do something for you, you do something for me. That’s our arrangement. I’ve done my part. So pay up, my prince.”
He looked away from her predatory stare. “I’m tired, Syl.”
She slid her palm up to gauge his heartbeats. Her gaze grew heavy. “No, you’re not. You’re juiced, and you know how hot that gets me. I don’t mind doing all the work this time. I’ll enjoy it for both of us.”
Cale stared up at that starry sky, now little more than a blur, resigned to the price Sylvia demanded, telling himself it was necessary, that it wasn’t personal or as degrading as it always felt when her greedy hands were on his zipper. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift to another. Imagining her hands, her hurried breaths, her mouth. Kendra . . .
“You bastard!” Sylvia lifted off him to glare down in a pinched-faced fury. “If I wanted a threesome with the little bitch, I would have invited her to join us.”
“Syl—”
“See if you can find someone else to take care of your problem. Good luck.”
He caught her wrist as she started away, alarm making his grip harder than he intended. “Sylvia, don’t. I’m sorry.”
She winced and tried to pull free. “You are sorry, you know that? All this fuss to make that stupid girl care about you when she’s already planning to give it up to somebody else.”
Shocked, Cale released her. “You’re lying! Who?”
Sylvia rubbed her wrist, her smile spiteful. “She’s in love with, in her own words, someone not on this mountain. Someone who is not you. Am I lying, Cale?” She spun and stalked off into the darkness.
Someone who is not you.
Cale’s mind raced frantically, cataloging Kendra’s every known movement since they’d parted at the lake eighteen years ago. He could come to only one devastating conclusion, the only readily available male. The man who had disgraced him and permanently dimmed his world.
His roar echoed across the stillness of the lake.
His queen was in love with Silas MacCreedy.
Kendra pretended to sleep to escape Rosie’s endless recaps of the evening, and then the girl talked about those dashing Terriot princes in her sleep. Her own rest was fitful.
Finally, close to dawn, she sank into a light slumber that brought fantasy right to the edge of reality. The feel of Silas’s kiss, the cherishing curl of his arms about her. Her words whispered from a breaking heart.
I’ll hold you safe in my soul until you return to me.
That kiss deepened into a luxurious, sensually charged paradise that left her drifting, eyes closed, body floating until grounded by a husky vow: “You will always hold an equal share of my love and loyalty.” She looked up into the beloved face to sigh, “My prince.”
She awoke with a start, touching fingertips to her mouth as if she could feel the heat of Cale’s lips there. As if she could taste him. Delicious and dangerous.
Shaken, Kendra headed downstairs for coffee, surprised to see that Sylvia was one of the few females up early, looking flawlessly lovely. She smiled in welcome. “All ready to play the dating game?”
Kendra grimaced. “I’m not very good at games. I have no idea what to say,” she confessed, taking a seat.
“Well, you have a couple of options. You can say nothing while they talk about themselves. They excel in that one. Or you can ask what they’d like to know about you. That will shut them up. What you wear to bed and what positions you like will exhaust their curiosity.”
“You don’t like them very much, do you?”
Sylvia sniffed, reminding her of Brigit. “They’re rich, self-centered, arrogant, and shallow.”
“Then why do you want to bond with one of them?”
“I want to be rich, self-centered, arrogant, and shallow, too. It’s not like I’d actually have to do anything except conceive. Then I’d have freedom, going into town to shop and to spas and clubs with no one to hover over me. I can handle a couple of bouts of sweaty, pawing sex for that trade-off.” Sylvia regarded Kendra closely. “You’re blushing. You’ve never had sex? I heard the rumor. How extraordinary and . . . strange.”
“The opportunity never came up.”
“I certainly wouldn’t tell them that. There’s nothing they like better than coming first.” She chuckled at her play on words. “They’d be on you like a pack of wild dogs. My dear, you are positively white. I’m sorry if my candor upset you.”
Kendra smiled wanly. “I’m hoping not to be in that position.”
“Or any position,” Sylvia murmured, then leaned forward to say, “He’s very handsome and mannerly, your Silas. Don’t look so shocked. I won’t say anything. He’s not like the typical Terriot, who’d throw you down and tear off your clothes after coming home smelling like violence and whores. I can see why that would appeal to you. When will he be here?”
“Soon.” Did she sound as desperate as she felt?
“Sooner the better. In the meantime, don’t let yourself be caught alone with any of them. They don’t need your permission to claim you. Or you to be conscious, for that matter.”
Kendra excused herself and hurried to the bathroom to toss up her coffee.
Sylvia’s advice wasn’t forgotten as Kendra tried not to resemble a mouse beneath circling hawks.
Her speed dates took place in a conference room at the lodge, where two executive chairs faced each other from opposite sides of a table. Kendra took comfort from that separating barrier and from the fact that the door was open partially for her protection as Bram’s unmated sons were brought in for awkward fifteen-minute one-on-ones. From those brief interviews, she was to pick the male she’d bond with for life.
Each one was different yet the same. All had that desensitized roughness, honed to a lethal point beneath Bram’s rule. Crude, deadly imitations of their father that the nice clothes and careful barbering couldn’t conceal. The first thing each one did was draw her scent in hungrily, gulping it up like a juicy meal. She hoped they couldn’t taste her fear.
She made mental notes as they tried to overwhelm, seduce, convince, or embarrass her with their virility and power. Her impressions were immediate and not favorable. Rico: flashily gorgeous, quick-tempered, conveying with his hot stare what he’d like to be doing with his hands. Michael: boyishly tousled, bragging about his accomplishments and ambitions, confidence lessened by the damage Cale had done to his jaw. Kip: youthfully eager and shamelessly enthralled, but with the predacious gleam that kept her wary. Colin: narrowed eyes, narrowed smile, coolly smug as he spoke of the things he could give her, things that meant nothing to her. Turow: dark, still, and stonily silent, unsettling her to the point where she was making conversation. Wesley: slickly handsome, all smooth, caressing compliments while his gaze tore off her clothes.
Only James engaged her by talking about his vision for their clan and how her presence at his side could aid that plan. He was forthright and intelligent, reminding her of Silas, with his larger view, as he asked her opinions, relaxing her to the point where she didn’t notice he was caressing her hand with slow intimate strokes until his thumb was rubbing across the pulse points on her wrist. She drew away, her smile stiff when he told her, “I think we’ll get on well together.”
That left Cale.
He came in last, unlike the others, dressed casually in jeans and a loose sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Instead of taking the chair, he leaned against the wall, one booted foot crossed over the other, staring not at her, with his brothers’
devouring stares, but at some point behind her. She could hear him inhale her scent with a slow, savoring pull.
In the unpressured seconds of silence, Kendra was able to view him critically. When not measured next to his six-foot-plus siblings, Cale Terriot cut an eye-catching figure of lean lines, powerful shoulders, and deceptively easy grace. With that deep-set, granite-piercing stare, his features were too rugged to be movie-star handsome, but he had an intensely compelling presence, a tough Wild West sort of hair-trigger directness that immediately commanded attention. Hers.
Even as the memory of his arrogant words on the stairs fired indignation, her gaze was drawn to his mouth by the stirring remnants of that morning’s dream. By the forbidden taste of him that made her lips soften and part. How fast her heart was beating, in upset, anguish, and uncomfortably, with attraction. Cale sensed it, too.
“Did you ever think of me?” he asked at last, his tone quiet.
Kendra hadn’t been alone with him in years. At one time she’d dreamed of saying so much to him, but her answer was clipped and truthful. “Not in ways that would flatter you.”
He studied her, his emotions masked. Then came the surprise of his unfurling smile and the heart-clutching slow, dry laugh that always made her think of starting a reluctant engine as he confessed, “I’ve missed you.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, and everything he’d meant to her came flooding back so fast, she was swept under without a struggle. She swallowed, emotions flailing, desperately trying to recover her footing by asking, “How’s your mom?”
His careless exterior cracked. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t known him so well. His voice was deceivingly steady. “She’s fine. I don’t see her very often. She lives down in the valley. I miss her, too.”
“When did she leave?”
“Right after you went away.”
So he’d lost them both at the same time. An unwanted twist of sympathy made her gaze soften, prompting him to offer, “I could take you to see her, if you want. She’d like that.” More softly, he added, “I’d like that.”
“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be . . . appropriate.”
He nodded, searching for the right words before saying plainly, “Everything I’ve done has been for you. I’ve been waiting to make you my queen.”
Now she was truly at a loss, managing to gasp, “How could you say that? How could you make what you’ve become about me? Don’t you dare blame me because you were weak.”
His stare went blank. “Weak?” A strained laugh of disbelief escaped him. “Is that what you think of me? That I was weak? I was eleven years old. What did you expect me to do?”
“We were friends, Cale. I—” She caught herself and replaced the word that sprang to her heart. “I trusted you. And how did you repay that?” She turned away from the sight of him, her eyes flooding with pain. “You were there that night. I saw you in my mother’s room. You were there when your father had the MacCreedy family killed. Were you there when my father died?”
“I was.”
“And you agreed with what was done?”
“It was necessary.”
She shuddered and covered her face with her hands to shut out the horror of what he’d become in her eyes.
He’d crossed the room before she was aware that he’d moved, coming down on one knee to nudge his head beneath her chin the way he’d done when they were children. The gesture was so intimate and unexpected that she didn’t know how to react until he spoke again in a tight-throated whisper. “But I didn’t agree.”
Kendra’s hand was on his hair before she could stop herself, stroking lightly. So soft, the rest of him so hard. Her arms went reflexively about him, tightening as if her life depended upon her ability to keep him close as she breathed him in, the bittersweet familiarity of his scent instantly soothing the ragged edges of grief. Oh, Cale. How I loved you. How I’ve missed you. She touched her lips to the back of his neck as her fingertips traced the foreign textures of his adult face.
“I would never hurt you, Kendra.”
Her thumb brushed against the raised scar cutting across his cheekbone. Remembering where it came from returned her senses with a harsh jolt. “You don’t think my parents dying hurt me?”
“What was I supposed to do?” he asked again, his words vulnerable and searching as he continued to lean in to her. “Die with them? Would you rather they’d killed me, too?”
She closed her eyes and saw him clearly, standing in the carnage of the MacCreedy living room, a soulless reflection of his father as he watched her being led past him without a flicker of response. Her answer was wooden. “Yes.”
She felt his sharp recoil, heard his quick intake of breath. She was pushing him away, setting him back on his heels, where he regarded her from behind that carefully guarded mask.“You don’t mean that.”
“I will never forgive you.” She enunciated each word for emphasis. “And I can never be with you.”
“I’ll change your mind.”
“How, Cale? By bringing my parents back from the dead?”
For a long moment, he held her agonized stare unblinkingly, then rose without a word, leaving her alone to shed her tears.
“How’d things go for Bachelor Number Eight?”
Cale didn’t turn at the sound of Wesley’s voice. He was standing at the edge of the terrace behind the lodge, staring somberly at the chill waters below, thinking that with one step, he could make all her dreams come true. “She’d prefer it if I were dead,” he answered tonelessly.
Wes pushed at the back of Cale’s head, forcing him to plant his feet or stumble dangerously forward. “She’d prefer me neutered. Good thing the old man didn’t give her that much power. He’s losing it.” Then a cool speculation: “The crown will be up for grabs sooner than we expected.”
“I think he knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“Pitting us against each other?”
Cale smiled at that. As if they’d ever been a close-knit, happy unit. He wasn’t sure when he and Wes had gotten friendly. There’d been so much animosity while they were growing up. “By doing what needs to be done to unite our family” was his quiet conclusion.
Wes snorted. “Now you sound like Jamie. The old man doesn’t give a damn about us or our people.” He glanced about after the fact to make sure he hadn’t been overheard. “You know what he is, Cale.”
“Yeah, I do,” Cale agreed with the same thoughtful intensity that had his half brother frowning. “But he has what I want.”
“And you’re going to step right into his shoes.”
Cale’s gaze flickered up and quickly away as he considered how much to say. “Not the power. Her. She’s the one, Wes,” he confessed, perhaps unwisely.
Wesley was silent for a long moment, then chuckled. “Don’t you think it would be smarter to pick a mate who prefers you breathing?”
A reluctant smile crept out. “Probably.”
Wes blew out a big sigh. “Well, then, brother, you’d better come up with a way to convince her that you’ve got something she wants before you have to see someone else’s mark on her.”
Hair bristled on the back of Cale’s neck as a low threatening growl escaped him. That wasn’t going to happen. He glanced at his brother with ill-concealed irritation. “Kinda hard to convince her from a distance. I need some up-close-and-personal time with her.”
Wes considered the problem, then his smile spread silkily. “Maybe I could help you out there, bro. I could drop a suggestion to my mother. You’d owe me big.”
“You could name your price.” He’d pay it. Nothing was too much, with Kendra in the balance. Maybe he was weak, and she was that weakness. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was having her beside him as he ruled.
Cale continued to linger alone in the slowly spreading warmth of midday, staring moodily down into the lake.
“My prince, I have news from Foster.”
The sudden presence of someone at his l
eft elbow gave Cale a nasty start. He hadn’t seen the approach. He took an instinctive step away, and only a quick hand on his elbow kept him from that plunge to make Kendra’s wishes complete. The messenger looked terrified at his own boldness. “Forgive me, my prince. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Cale took a calming breath. “What’s the news?”
It wasn’t good. In fact, it was disastrous.
Brigit MacCreedy had killed one of the men escorting her off the mountain and seriously maimed the other before disappearing without a trace.
“Find her. She’ll head for her brother in New Orleans.” Cale thought for a moment, then added grimly, “And put a trace on her cousin’s phone.”
Because if she didn’t run to Silas, the first person Brigit would reach out to was Kendra.
four
They arrived with flash and fanfare, the women like celebrities in an obscenely long limo, their men in a surrounding entourage of Jeeps and muscular off-road bikes. Fawning club staff rushed to assist the ladies from the vehicle but were elbowed aside by the bristling cadre of protectors who immediately circled the females to escort them inside.
The club’s patrons stared as they passed, the females appreciated for their style and beauty, the brutally handsome Terriot men gawked at as if they were film stars. Or mobsters. Every man wished to be them. Every woman wanted to bed them. And the owners, seeing dollar signs, rushed to welcome them.
A section was cleared for their party. The bonded foursome of brothers grouped together with their mates. The eligible females were seated with deference in a large booth, where they couldn’t be easily approached. Not without going through a wall of fiercely territorial males.
Kendra had been reluctant when Rosie rushed up with news of the outing. A little schmoozing with the locals, James had told her. Good for community relations. Their clan paid handsomely to be left alone, but when they went out in public, they went big and spent large. He’d assured Rosie that it would be safe and fun and she’d enjoy it. She squealed that she’d just die if Kendra didn’t go, too.
