by Nancy Gideon
She’d told Cale that she wanted to make friends with her fellow clan females, but as he’d warned, instead of being warm and inviting, these waters teemed with beautifully dressed, solicitously smiling sharks.
Like the Terriot men, the women were constantly aware of their position in the clan’s hierarchy. Kendra lacked the glamorous and experienced Sylvia’s armor of self-confidence, but her natural poise and quiet charm quickly polarized the room into two vastly different sections. To Sylvia’s apparent chagrin, the continental drift produced clichés of even size.
Kendra discovered that many of the clan’s females, weary of the social scrapping, were eager to embrace her. Among them, she found a warmth and sincerity that reminded her of the affection between her mother and Cale’s. A pity that these gracious women felt so intimidated by sharper tongues that they remained in the silent background instead of becoming the moral strength sadly lacking in the House of Terriot. More the mystery, since she’d stood at Sadie’s side, they seemed to be looking to her to be their voice.
Once Sadie announced that she needed to go lie down, Rosie fitted herself up against Kendra with all the latest dish. Hearing the vicious spin placed on her every action made Kendra pale as Rosie confided the worst.
Supposedly, she’d manipulated the impulsive Michael into the position that had gotten him killed. It was hinted that she’d withheld a permanent bond from her powerful mate in order to push him into a coup to gain the crown. It was also rumored she was a spy from the New Orleans clan, feeding them information right under Cale’s nose. She’d apparently been very busy! These weren’t snide little comments meant to hurt her feelings. They were explosive accusations that could result in her death.
Had Cale heard them? Would he believe them?
Kendra went to work on damage control by going straight to the source. She didn’t have her cousin’s skill for verbal bloodletting, so she sought her own strengths.
Sylvia masked her surprise behind a welcoming smile as her rival took a seat beside her on one of the low couches scattered about the big room. Kendra extended a gesture of truce, her words quiet so as not to be overheard. “I’d like to apologize, Sylvia. I never meant to hurt you. I had no idea your heart was set on Cale.”
Sylvia stared at her unblinkingly for a frozen moment, then she covered her shock with a smooth smile as she ignored the overture. “What a terrible day for the family, to lose two young men to such tragic circumstances.” She patted Kendra’s hand. “And poor Cale must be so distressed to be the cause of it.”
Kendra blinked up at her. “The cause? Of course he’s devastated by the loss of his brothers, but why would he blame himself for their deaths? He had no choice except to defend himself against Michael’s attack. And he almost lost his own life, along with Derrick.”
Sylvia made a solicitous noise. “Indeed. But such convenient losses for someone in his position.”
Chilled by the intimation, Kendra replied, “He’s determined to find out who might have something to gain by tainting that boy’s water. Someone who had knowledge of herbs, I suspect.” She let Sylvia mull that over before adding with a slight edge, “I’m just as determined to find out who tried to harm my mate. They’ll find me as protective of him as he is of me.”
Behind the innocence of her uplifted gaze, she let the other woman see a hint of accusation and warning.
Intrigued, the cluster of females within earshot grew quiet and edged closer.
Sylvia’s posture stiffened, but she was far too good in the verbal combat trenches to give any quarter. Her attack was swift and brutal. “It’s usually the one closest to the tragedies who has the most to gain,” she purred. “Of course I’m not suggesting Cale has an agenda. We all know how dedicated he is to his father’s every whim. Michael and Derrick were no threat to him. Were they perhaps a threat to you, my dear?”
“What on earth would I have to gain?” Kendra gasped, alarmed by where the conversation was going. “I have everything I desire already.”
“Do you? Then why aren’t you wearing the mark of your prince? The fact is, you’re not even sleeping with him. Or has that changed since we last spoke?”
Kendra sat stunned, damning herself with her silence.
“Is there some reason Cale is your mate in name only?”
The truth wasn’t as damaging as the allegation Sylvia was about to make, that Kendra wasn’t sleeping with him because she was in love with someone outside the clan. Someone in New Orleans whose family had rebelled against them.
“He’s being respectful of my inexperience.” She didn’t have to force a blush. She reddened all the way to her toes.
Behind Sylvia’s smirk was deeper jealousy as she mused, “Cale Terriot shy about deflowering his mate? How very sweet. And how unlike the Cale we know. Perhaps we can help. Among us here, we have a wealth of experience you can draw upon.”
Kendra went cold and still as the older woman turned to address the others.
“Who here has had sex with Cale?” Sylvia’s hand went up, and she waited expectantly for the majority of the others to join her before slyly telling Kendra, “See, a wide pool from whom you can take notes.”
Kendra sat paralyzed with humiliation. Even some of the bonded females had put up their hands.
“Anything you’d like to share, ladies, to let our virginal friend know what she can expect from her prince? Any hints or observations to help ease her way into intimacy?”
“Don’t talk,” one chimed up. Others laughed, getting that joke.
“Definitely no talking. Then he’d have to acknowledge you were there.”
“Don’t expect any foreplay.”
“Foreplay? How about not even a ‘thank you, ma’am’ to go with the slam-bam?” More laughter.
Cringing with embarrassment, Kendra asked, “If he’s so unsatisfying, why have all of you been there?”
Sylvia looked at her as if she were simple. “He’s the prince who could be king. Besides, he’s not bad, is he, girls?” After collecting a round of lusty chuckles, she explained, “He gets things done, but if you’re looking for personal involvement, you’d get more from something with batteries.”
“I have no complaints,” drawled Fawn, Stephen Terriot’s bonded mate, “but I always got the impression that anything on hands and knees would be fine with him as long as she didn’t expect conversation or, God forbid, kissing. Has he ever kissed any of you?” After a unanimous chorus of no’s, she sighed. “The things he could probably do with that mouth.”
Lots of snickering as Sylvia summarized, “Like squeezing a rocket between your legs. Hang on for the ride. It’s wild, it’s fast, but sizzle, boom, done.”
Looking from Sylvia’s meanly smug face to the rest of their amused and aroused expressions, Kendra said softly, “So, all I have to do is put a bag over my head, assume the position, and not make any noise?”
“That’s pretty much it, dear.” Sylvia smiled. “Someday your prince will come, but it will usually be first and without a lot of romancing . . .” Her words drifted off as she focused on a distant spot. Her smile grew malicious.
Kendra twisted to see Cale in the doorway. He locked stares with Sylvia as he called, “Ready, baby? I finished my business quicker than I expected. Apparently a well-known and much discussed bad habit of mine.”
As the other females chuckled, licked their lips, and called “Hello, Cale” flirtatiously, Kendra bolted up from the couch. Forcing a smile for the others, she murmured, “I enjoyed our talk. Thank you for welcoming me into your group.”
Cale watched her approach, his expression inscrutable. The possessive way he placed his hand at the small of her back encouraged her to look up. Watching his eyes warm from their narrowed annoyance, she found the courage to whisper, “Cale, kiss me like you want me.”
No questions or hesitation. He bent slowly. Kendra could hear a collective inhalation from the group as his mouth settled over hers for a deliciously tender press. Just as she bega
n to ease away, his hand slid down to clamp on to her ass for a squeeze that lifted her on her toes while he engaged her tongue in a quick hungry tussle.
His fingertips grazed beneath her jaw as he leaned back. “I don’t have to pretend to want you. Is there anything else I can do for you? Maybe find a paper bag?”
She flushed. “No. That was everything I needed.”
Cale smiled and tucked her inside the protective circle of his arm. Then he bared his teeth at the sly-eyed females. “Nice to see you again, ladies. Always a pleasure.”
“So,” he began with a hint of amusement as they walked along the path to their lodge, his arm curled about her, “how was your chat? Make any chummy lifelong bonds?”
“With a few. The rest were vicious, catty, and awful. But you knew that.”
“Oh, yeah. Like I said, I know them better than you do.”
“So it would seem.” She could feel his questioning look but didn’t acknowledge it. “And how was your meeting?”
“I’m alive, which pretty much says it all.” He opened the door to their accommodations and followed her in. “I don’t want to talk about that. I want to talk about getting to know each other.”
Kendra gave a start and swallowed nervously. She’d envisioned their discussions by shadowed firelight, not in the revealing glare of late morning. As Cale went to the wet bar to retrieve a couple of mineral waters, she anxiously surveyed the furniture grouping in the living room. The bedroom was completely out of the question. Like Cale had said, there was trusting and there was stupid. He took the choice from her by setting the waters on the café table and pulling out a chair for her. As she settled stiffly into the seat, he dragged the second one around so they were facing each other with no barrier between them except less than a yard of neutral distance. He regarded her with a relaxed smile and a direct stare.
“I know it’s ladies first, but I’d like to start. Feet.” He put out his hands, palms up, and beckoned with his fingers. When she gingerly lifted her foot, he cupped her heel and slowly unzipped and eased off her ankle boot, then gestured for the other. When he had both her feet resting on his knees, he rubbed his palms over the tops of them, his rough skin snagging lightly on her stockings.
“Can I take these off you?” Not “Will you take them off for me.” Holding her gaze steadily in his, he reached under her full skirt to the waistband of her panty hose and peeled them down, letting his hands graze from hip to thigh to knee to calf until he’d pulled them free. Kendra had been holding her breath and released it in a shiver. She gave him a quizzical look when he draped the hose around his neck.
“Just in case I need another tourniquet someday,” he explained with a small smile. He arranged her heels in his lap and began a slow massage of her arches and insteps. His hands were warm, his touch divine. “Comfortable?”
“That feels wonderful,” she all but purred.
“Good. Ask your question.”
His grip felt natural and unpressuring, a good start for their explorations because it didn’t put her on guard. Encouraged by the mood, she jumped right in. “Is there any other female on this mountain you haven’t slept with, or am I the only one?” A bit of snappishness crept into her tone despite her best efforts.
Cale grinned wide. “Technically, you’re the only one I have slept with. Around them, I’d be afraid that if I closed my eyes, I’d wake up to find my credit cards stolen and my balls in a glass on the nightstand. I have had sex with most of them. I’m sure they were happy to tell you that. Where do I rank on their ‘Terriot Princes We’ve Fucked’ scale? Somewhere between ‘Inconsiderate Bastard’ and ‘When Are You Going to Call Me’?”
His unapologetic manner made her bristle. “You used them.”
A big laugh. “Baby, you think any of them were asking for meaningful relationships by grabbing my crotch every time I walked by? They didn’t want to talk about books they’d read or take walks in the rain. The only thing they wanted was a hard lay and a shot at the throne, and that’s what they got.”
“And I’m different?”
His stare burned into hers as his hands went still. “You know you are. Now so do they, so be careful. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they’re not as dangerous as a Terriot male.”
“Why am I different?”
“Because I’ve been dreaming of sleeping with you for almost twenty years, and I’d do anything to make that happen on a regular basis. I bet that scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?” He smiled ruefully at her expression. “Thought so.”
He turned his attention back to her feet, bending to brush his mouth over one delicate arch, then backtracking with the sweep of his tongue. Slowly, he sucked each toe into his mouth for a playful nibble while gauging her reaction. The sensation was teasingly suggestive.
That unsettled her into urging, “Ask your question.”
Cale rested her foot flat upon his chest, holding it over his heart—with her leg lifted high, her skirt pooled down about her hips, most likely giving him a clear view of her panties. He didn’t stare . . . not blatantly. She decided, rather surprisingly, that she didn’t really mind. Even if the idea made the cotton dampen.
“You’re beautiful and smart and sweet, with a good bloodline,” he began. “How could I be so lucky that no other male hasn’t already taken what you’re giving to me? You never tried to make something happen with anyone else?”
She didn’t want to admit Silas had pushed her away. That was too much heart on her sleeve for comfort, so instead she took the offensive with a soft “You know why.”
He was the only one who truly did.
That one traumatic moment had shaped her life. It had written indelibly the value of being a woman upon her tender, terrified spirit. A fragile, perilous existence dependent upon the whims of those with power in a world where it was pain or death to resist. Where no champion would dare interfere. Her father hadn’t. He’d known and done nothing. Perhaps he thought it would be easier for her mother to accept unacknowledged shame, even if the shame wasn’t her own. Or maybe he’d been afraid.
Not like Silas, who’d made every possible sacrifice so she and Brigit wouldn’t have to. Not like Cale, who’d stepped between her and violence without thought to cost or consequence. Because that was what champions did. They acted, they protected. Unlike Silas, Cale had named her as his reward.
“She killed herself, you know. Your mother told me.”
Cale went still, finally stating gently, “I didn’t know.”
“How did my father die?”
“A man is only as strong as his understanding of his own weakness. Your father told me that. I liked him, liked listening to him talk.” His words trailed off, but he never looked away. “He took a knee, and my father took his head. He didn’t see it coming.” His voice lowered. “None of us did. It shouldn’t have happened. And I’m so very sorry for both things.” Without breaking eye contact, he laid his chin on her toes.
“He knew and did nothing,” she answered hollowly.
Cale’s eyes lowered briefly. His voice was deep and smooth. “Will you want me to do something?”
His unnatural calm sent a chill quivering through her. “What do you mean?” She didn’t dare make assumptions.
His gaze came up to hold hers unblinkingly. “You know exactly what I mean. If you want justice for them, tell me.”
“He’s your father.”
“I know what he is. But what you are to me . . .” He shrugged eloquently. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You think about that and let me know.”
She couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes. Then he blinked and sat back. “Okay, what part of me are you dying to get your hands on?”
Jolted from her grim train of thought, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Your shoulders.” For all the weight they carried. For all the times they’d supported her.
Once she’d reclaimed her feet, Kendra went behind his chair, noting that he removed
the panty hose and his tie from around his neck after taking off his jacket. She smiled. Did he fear she’d try to strangle him? She placed her hands on the caps of his shoulders and felt all those glorious muscles tighten. “Relax and close your eyes. You’re in my hands now.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, along with all the tension. While she plied and kneaded, her thoughts circled.
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
All this tremendous power. Was it really hers to command? If she asked for the justice that had eaten away at her heart and soul for as long as she could remember, would he deliver it?
She’d been angry and afraid for so long, she couldn’t imagine a life without threat. Was that what he offered, or would the level of danger simply escalate? What if he weren’t successful, if his brothers turned on him and wouldn’t support his rule?
Her fingers threaded up into his hair while her thumbs worked the pressure points at the base of his skull. Cale made a low contented sound and let his head fall forward. “Oh, baby, this is the best anyone has ever made me feel while upright.”
How would it make him feel to kill his father? She didn’t know anything about their relationship. Was there love? Respect? Or did Bram use his son as callously as he used the Terriot females? Would she be any different if she demanded such a thing from him? Wasn’t she guilty of using him for her own purpose, to keep her safe, to protect her through his sacrifices based upon a promise that she had yet to fulfill?
Who would protect him and his interests?
Cale wasn’t thinking about his interests as all the edgy, racing urgency of the last two days finally trickled down. His mind began to quiet, his pulse to slow, the tight threads of constant readiness to loosen into a fatigue so deep it was like standing on a hill of sand as it gently eroded away. Instead of calm, a heavy fog of anxiousness began to spread. He reached back for one of Kendra’s hands to keep from getting lost in the emotion.
