by Ann Jacobs
By the time they set down at the Natchitoches Regional Airport Les had relaxed. Deidre and Karen had distracted him from worrying about how his very conservative parents would take to Deidre’s big-as-Texas family members. He had also decided that no matter how this meeting went, he and Deidre would remain a team—for life.
* * * * *
Les’ mom and dad had come to pick them up in separate cars—nice cars, of course, and it made sense because having seven people in one vehicle would have been a squeeze. Deidre was a little nervous when his father herded all the men into a late-model Lincoln Continental while his mother took her and Karen in the smaller Mercedes.
The cars matched, both black and somber. The mood was not much brighter than the pearl-gray upholstery. Deidre stared out the tinted windshield, wishing she’d opted to share the backseat with Karen, wondering whether she should try to say something now to her silent hostess. Time seemingly stood still while Adrienne Fourchet made her way down a two-lane blacktop road. A heavy curtain of Spanish moss hung off centuries-old oak trees planted along the side of the road, lending to the dark, troubled atmosphere inside the car.
Deidre flinched when Mrs. Fourchet lost control and almost steered the car into a ditch.
“I apologize. I seldom drive, so I must pay close attention to the road. We will talk back at Belle Terre.”
Deidre had never heard Les mention the name of what she assumed must be the small community where his parents lived. Knowing what his mother had witnessed that day he’d told her about, she figured that Mrs. Fourchet must be as nervous as she was.
Then Deidre looked up and saw the words strung out in delicate script on an archway high above the narrow road. Beyond it there were fields, what looked like miles of them, on either side of a narrow road bordered by elaborate wrought iron fences whose design reminded her of the balconies she’d seen on old houses in New Orleans’ Garden District.
Les’ family is rich. Not as rich as we are, maybe, but I bet the length of time they’ve had their money makes ours seem new. Crass. Deidre imagined an antebellum home and as soon as she’d thought it, one materialized, a white brick Creole-style mansion surrounded by fields on three sides and perched on a high bluff overlooking the Sabine River that separated Louisiana and Texas. “How beautiful,” she murmured, caught up in the aura of age and respectability.
Les’ mother pulled up in front of a wrought iron staircase and cut the engine. “We like it. The house was built in 1856 by my husband’s great-great-grandfather. Fortunately it managed to survive the ravages of the Civil War. Come in, please.”
Deidre couldn’t help thinking of the old house at the Bar C, the one where the first Byron Caden had brought his bride. Well-kept and homey it might be, but the large cabin wouldn’t hold a candle to Les’ home. Though the house Four had built for her mom might be bigger and more costly than this, it certainly lacked the history of this monument to a family’s long life in the community.
Instead of taking them into the room where Deidre had heard the men talking, Adrienne led them into a small parlor and ordered afternoon tea. Mom would have liked this, she thought as she sat as daintily as she could manage on a Victorian couch upholstered in pale-pink silk brocade and waited for the woman to drop the question Les had warned her to expect.
They drank tea and made small talk about fashion, the sorry state of today’s society and places they had visited. Deidre answered what seemed like thousands of questions about her home, her high school and her college years at Bryn Mawr. She’d never thought she might ever curry anybody’s favor by talking about having gone to school at one of the “Seven Sisters” of the Ivy League, since most modern women wanted the same topnotch education the Ivies offered to the men, not a genteel opportunity to meet those men and find a suitable husband.
By the time Karen finally excused herself to join the men, Deidre was nothing but a bundle of nerves. She knew that Les had told his parents he intended to marry her, the same night he’d asked Four for her hand during a long interrogation in the ranch office while she’d been banished to the garden room. Finally she’d taken all she could take of the woman’s close, silent scrutiny.
Chin high, she met the older woman’s questioning gaze. “I’m very much in love with Les, Mrs. Fourchet. Is there anything else you’d like to know about me?”
The older woman turned beet-red beneath her olive-toned cheeks and seemed to take a sudden interest in the rose-colored carpet beneath her feet. “What did my son tell you?” she asked in a small voice when she finally looked up at Deidre.
Deidre met and held her gaze. “Les told me he expected that you’d want to know if I were the same as the depraved woman who’d done such awful things to him. I want to assure you that I’m not.”
“Thank God.” For a minute Deidre thought Les’ mother might faint, but then she got up, swaying just the least bit on her black, medium-heeled pumps. “I think it’s time for us to ease Leslie’s mind. Come with me.”
* * * * *
While Bye, Four and his father chatted away about business, politics and their favorite college teams as though they’d been friends for years, Les tried to tell himself Deidre would be okay with his mother. After all, she’d always been the soul of propriety. He felt certain there would be no mention of anything remotely controversial as long as Karen was there with them.
Adrienne was a stickler for propriety, proud of being part of the Creole aristocracy. Old compared with most of his friends’ parents, she had always clung stubbornly to standards of behavior that had softened significantly since she was young. Les imagined she was sipping tea with her guests, waiting patiently for the opportunity to zero in on Deidre without potentially embarrassing her sister-in-law.
When Karen strolled into the sun porch overlooking the river and settled on the couch beside Bye, though, Les began to worry. He was about to get up and go rescue Deidre when she and his mother joined them.
Deidre looked over at him and nodded, as though to say all was well, before joining him and standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
He dared a glance at his mother, who had always had the ability to intimidate him, but never more than today. While he couldn’t read her mind any better than he had been able to do as a boy, her pleasant expression gave him hope that Deidre had been able to cut the inquisition short.
“I hope you and Deidre had a pleasant visit,” he said, holding his breath until Adrienne nodded and he saw the edges of her mouth rise in the barest hint of a smile.
“Yes. I believe you have done well for yourself this time.”
When she drew a tiny, black velvet box from her pocket and handed it to him, he knew. Deidre had won Adrienne’s approval, something that she never gave easily. He hadn’t seen that box for years, since she’d shown it to him more than twenty years earlier after his grandmere’s funeral and told him she’d save it for him to give to the woman he would marry some time in the then-distant future.
So much had happened in the twenty-one years since that sad day when they’d mourned the passing of the wonderful old lady who’d given him unquestioning devotion, never demanding the rigid standards of behavior his mother and father had expected of a young, carefree boy who’d been more interested in having fun with his friends than impressing his elders in Natchitoches society.
As though she realized he was having trouble processing the meaning of her gift, Adrienne murmured, “Adalie would have loved your Deidre. She would be proud for her to wear her ring.”
“Thank you, Mama.” It had been years since Les had addressed Adrienne as he’d done when he’d been a child, but today the affectionate term seemed right. He fumbled with the latch on the antique box until it opened, then looked down at the ring he’d so often admired on Grandmere’s age-ravaged hand.
It was a rose-cut diamond, large and flanked by tiny sapphires that almost matched the color of Deidre’s beautiful blue eyes. He’d always loved the setting, a delicate band of filigreed yellow-gold
that lent an ageless beauty unlike that of modern rings however striking they might be.
He took Deidre’s hand and led her outside, onto the porch that overlooked the river where he’d spent many happy hours listening to Grandmere tell him about their family and the proud heritage he’d almost turned his back on because he had felt unworthy and full of guilt.
He was her master but it felt right for him to drop to his knee after he settled her on a wicker rocker near the guardrail. “This belonged to my grandmother Fourchet. Mother wants you to have it. So do I.”
The look in her eyes when she held out her left hand so he could put the ring on her finger told him better than words how much she loved him, how deeply it affected her to know she’d had a significant role in healing the rift he had created between himself and his parents. “Thank you, Master.”
“Thank you, chéri. You’ve made me the happiest man on earth, and you’ve taken away the look of hurt and disappointment from my mother’s eyes.” He stood and drew her to her feet, holding her close as soft, familiar sounds of water running toward the Gulf surrounded them. “You’ve let me come back home.”
Epilogue
Three months later at the Bar C
“I’ve given her to you, Doc, now you’d better take good care of her.” Four towered over Les, a bear of a man in his black tux and dress boots, his Stetson in his hand.
“I already promised you I will.” If he didn’t, Les knew his father-in-law would fight with his two sons for the right to tear him limb from limb. “Not that I wouldn’t anyway. Thank you for sharing her love with me.”
He looked at the crowd around them, as proper a group of hot-blooded Texans as he’d ever seen, not a hint of anything that his smiling parents could construe as being depraved or even off-color.
Buck Oakley was his affable self, dressed in formalwear and escorting a well-dressed and well-spoken sub who’d played with Les at the Neon Lasso before Les had discovered Deidre was more than enough woman for him.
Ranchers for miles around had come to wish him and Deidre well. Some of the guests had already left now that Deidre had gone upstairs with Karen and Liz to change out of her wedding gown. Others had moved into smaller groups to sip champagne, nibble wedding cake and share neighborhood gossip.
He’d worried that his mother would take exception when he introduced Jack as his brother-in-law, but she’d taken it in her stride. He should have known she would—after all, he’d subjected her to a much greater shock than hearing that his new father-in-law had a bastard son whom the entire family had embraced and called their own.
The band that had played during their wedding breakfast began to play again, a sappy song Deidre had chosen about love and all the emotions she said he evoked in her—ones he shared but would only admit to when they were alone together. She came out flanked by her two sisters, looking radiant in the hot-pink designer dress she’d told him was a compromise between sweet and sexy.
God help him, it was both. She was both. He went to her, unwilling to wait any longer to fly off into the blue sky and take her to the honeymoon spot they’d chosen—a resort in Baja, California, where they could indulge their wildest fantasies, far away from the realities they’d face once they came back to Caden.
She’d have to tolerate sharing him with his patients…but he’d given his word to Doc Baines, so the first three years of their life together would be spent here with him taking emergency calls he hoped wouldn’t intrude too much on their precious time together.
After that, they’d agreed they both wanted to go back to Belle Terre, where she’d helped him to belong again—to the heritage he had almost turned his back on but now felt ready to embrace.
He took her in his arms and kissed her, long and hard and deep, mindless of those who might be scandalized. “Thank you for making my life complete. Let’s get out of here now. I want to make long, sweet love with my brand-new bride.”
About Ann Jacobs
Ann Jacobs is a sucker for lusty Alpha heroes and happy endings, which makes Ellora’s Cave an ideal publisher for her work. Romantica®, to her, is the perfect combination of sex, sensuality, deep emotional involvement and lifelong commitment—the elusive fantasy women often dream about but seldom achieve.
First published in 1996, Jacobs has sold over forty books and novellas, some of which have earned awards including the Passionate Plume (best novella, 2006), the Desert Rose (best hot and spicy romance, 2004) and More Than Magic (best erotic romance, 2004). She has been a double finalist in separate categories of the EPPIES and From the Heart RWA Chapter’s contest. Three of her books have been translated and sold in several European countries.
A CPA and former hospital financial manager, Jacobs now writes full-time, with the help of Mr. Blue, the family cat who sometimes likes to perch on the back of her desk chair and lend his sage advice. He sometimes even contributes a few random letters when he decides he wants to try out the keyboard. She loves to hear from readers, and to put faces with names at signings and conventions.
Ann welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Ann Jacobs
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A Mutual Favor
Awakenings
Black Gold: Another Love
Black Gold: Dallas Heat
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Caden Kink 1: Lovers’ Feud
Caden Kink 2: Shotgun Relations
Club Rio Brava 1: Loving Control
Club Rio Brava 2: Switching Control
Club Rio Brava 3: Unexpected Control
Club Rio Brava 4: Learning Control
Colors of Love
Colors of Magic
Commitment
d’Argent Honor: Eternal Triangle
d’Argent Honor 1: Vampire Justice
d’Argent Honor 2: Eternally His
d’Argent Honor 3: Eternal Surrender
d’Argent Honor 4: Eternal Victory
Dark Side of the Moon
Gates of Hell
Gridiron Lovers: Hot for the Reunion
Gridiron Lovers 1: Naked Bootleg
Gridiron Lovers 2: Forward Pass
Gridiron Lovers 3: Hot in the Clutch
Gridiron Lovers 4: Coach Me
Haunted
He Calls Her Jasmine
Heart of the West 1: Roped
Heart of the West 2: Hitched
Heart of the West 3: Lassoed
Her Very Special Robot
Illusions
Irresistible…Again
Lawyers in Love 1: In His Own Defense
Lawyers in Love 2: Bittersweet Homecoming
Lawyers in Love 3: Gettin’ It On
Lawyers in Love 4: Eye of the Storm
Lawyers in Love 5: Mastered
Mountain Heat
Mutual Fantasy
Necessary Roughness 1: Sackmaster
Necessary Roughness 2: End Run
Necessary Roughness 3: Best Reception
Necessary Roughness 4: Prime Defender
Out of Bounds
Pleasure Partners 1: His Pleasure Mistress
Pleasure Partners 2: Pleasure Slave
Pleasure Partners 3: Enslaving the Master
Pleasure Partners 4: Imperfect Partners
Pleasure Partners 5: Perfect Master
Pleasure Partners 6: Her Alien Masters
Pleasure Partners 7: Training the Master
Tip of the Iceberg
Topaz Dream
Wrong Place, Wrong Time?
Zayed’s Gift
Print
books by Ann Jacobs
A Mutual Favor
A Shining Future
Black Gold: Another Love
Black Gold: Dallas Heat
Black Gold: Firestorm
Black Gold: Sandstorms
Bound by Love
Caden Kink 1: Lovers’ Feud
Club Rio Bravo 1, 2, 3 & 4: Controlled by Love
d’Argent Honor 1, 3 & 4: Full Circle
d’Argent Honor 2: Eternally His
Dark Fantasies
Enchained anthology
Haunted
Heart of the West
Home Field Advantage
Lawyers in Love 1 & 2: The Defenders
Lawyers in Love 3 & 4: The Prosecutors
Lords of Pleasure
Men in Motion
Necessary Roughness
Out of Bounds
Pleasure Partners 1, 2, 3 & 4: Alien Pleasures
Pleasure Partners 5 & 6: Alien Masters
Sex, Love and a Bit of Magic
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Wild One
ISBN 9781419939457
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Wild One Copyright © 2013 Ann Jacobs
Edited by Rebecca Hill
Cover design by Syneca
Photography by Syneca and Mariait/Shutterstock.com
Models: Justin and Dana
Electronic book publication January 2013
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
