Chapter 8
It had to be close to midnight, but Caitlin wasn’t asleep and she knew Randall wasn’t, either. Her nightgown felt hot, cumbersome, but she knew it was because of his nearness in the bed.
He was clad only in a pair of boxer shorts and he looked as hot almost naked as he did in his tight jeans and T-shirt. Although he wasn’t touching her, she felt his presence as acutely as if he were right next to her, his skin against hers, his mouth against her ear.
She wanted him. Even with the debacle that had taken place earlier, she still wanted him. Her desire was what kept her awake, what made her nightgown feel oppressive and presented a deep ache inside her heart.
She rolled over on her side to face him. In the brilliant moonlight that drifted through the window she could easily see his face. He was so handsome, each of his features radiating strength of character. He’d suffered the worst that a man could—the loss of his wife—and she knew now it had been that tragedy that had sent him to the bottom of a bottle.
But he’d pulled himself out. He’d chosen to live. And she wanted to do the same thing. She didn’t want just to exist, she wanted to live…and she wanted to love.
His eyes were closed but a muscle knotted in his jaw, confirming that he hadn’t found sleep yet. The tops of his bare shoulders were visible where the sheet had fallen down. His skin beckoned her for a caress; the very scent of him made her want to burrow her face against the crook of his neck.
I don’t have to be on top. His words were a titillating refrain in her head. I don’t have to touch you. I don’t have to be on top.
If she was the one in control would it make a difference? Her heart stepped up its rhythm at the very possibility. Was she not completely broken, but only needing some extra love and care?
Since that horrifying night in the jungle she’d felt as if she’d lost all control in her life, that somehow she wasn’t making any decisions, but rather all the decisions were being made for her. Those men had taken her control away from her.
She needed to take back control, wanted to do it now, with him. She felt that if she didn’t do something now, she might never be able to reclaim herself as a person, as a fully functioning woman.
I don’t have to be on top. The words held such possibility and she realized she trusted him to understand if everything went bad again. She’d never know if it was possible if she didn’t at least try. And the reward if it went right would be priceless.
Tentatively she reached beneath the sheet and placed her hand on his flat, hard abdomen. Instantly she felt his muscles tighten, but his eyes remained closed.
His skin was warm, inviting to the touch, and the fact that he remained completely impassive emboldened her further. She curled closer to him, her hand moving up his chest in a slow, languid caress. She felt him catch his breath and thrilled at his obvious response to her touch.
She raised up and leaned over him, and his eyes opened as she pressed her lips to his. He didn’t touch her, but his kiss held enough fire to make her feel as if she’d been thoroughly caressed.
His heartbeat thundered against her palm for a moment and then she moved her hand back down his abdomen and stopped at the waistband of his boxers, a tremor of uncertainty sweeping through her.
“You’re in control, Caitlin,” he said softly. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, it’s your move. You can stop whenever you want to and I won’t be upset.”
She paused, waiting for her throat to close off, for the scent of the jungle to fill her head and for panic to waft through her, but there was only the clean male scent of Randall and the sweeping desire not to stop what she was doing.
For the first time in weeks she felt wonderfully in control, alive with the passion that flowed through her veins. A sweet anticipation rose up inside her.
It was only when she plucked at his waistband that he finally moved, raising his hips just enough to help her take off the boxers. He rolled away from her and grabbed his wallet from the nightstand, then pulled out a condom and laid it out in easy reach.
Caitlin rose to her knees, her heart beating like thunder, and paused for a moment. Surely the room was dark enough that he wouldn’t see the fading bruises on her ribs. And she wanted her nightgown off. Drawing a deep breath she pulled it over her head and threw it to the floor.
There was a tremble inside her, but it had nothing to do with fear, nothing to do with any rising panic.
It was need that shivered through her as she hesitantly ran her fingers across his thigh and then wrapped her hand around his rigid length. His eyes glowed in the moonlight, but he didn’t move a muscle.
Her heart expanded as she began to stroke him, his hardness throbbing beneath her fingers. A deep shudder worked through him and she knew he was trying hard to maintain his control. The muscles on either side of his neck were taut cords that showed his inner battle.
Her own control was ebbing away as the white-hot need to be one with him filled her. She reached across him for the condom, her hands trembling clumsily as she tore the package and removed it.
His hands were clenched in the sheets at his sides as she rolled the condom onto him. His eyes glittered like something wild in the night as she took off her panties and tossed them to the floor, leaving her naked as she straddled him.
As she eased down on him, she wanted to weep. No panic, no memories, no pain…there was just Randall and the sweet sensation of him buried inside her.
For several long moments she remained unmoving, just savoring the fact that she had succeeded. Randall released a small, strangled gasp and it was enough to make her want to move on him, with him.
Moving her hips against his, she heard another gasp of pleasure escape his lips and suddenly she wanted him to touch her, needed to feel his hands on her.
She grabbed his hands and guided them up to her bare breasts, reveling in the warmth as he cupped their fullness. It felt right and good. As his thumbs grazed across the tops of her turgid nipples, she shivered with delight.
Once again she thrust her hips with his, a rising tide of tension building inside her as he met her, thrust for thrust. She lost herself in the exquisite sensations that sang through her.
And then the tide that had been building…building swept over her. His release came at the same time and he gasped her name on a strangled cry as they both found sweet release.
She collapsed against his chest with a joyous burst of laughter. Proof of life. That’s what she’d wanted and that’s what this had been for her.
Proof that she was still capable of feeling good things, that she was still able to function as a loving, giving human being. Proof of life.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, and slid out of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She nodded in the darkness, too elated to speak.
A moment later he was back beside her and she curled up in his arms. “Hmm, I love the smell of your hair,” he murmured softly.
She smiled. “Good shampoo.”
“And I love the color of your hair,” he replied. “Good genes.”
He laughed and this time there was no reminder of the laughter in the jungle. There was just Randall and the wonder of what they’d shared.
Within minutes he had fallen asleep, his breathing soft and even next to her.
Her heart filled with joy, with the knowledge that at least for this moment she was safe and sated. Never had she trusted a man as much as she trusted Randall Kane. And she desperately needed somebody to trust.
The only other man she’d trusted completely in her life was missing and could possibly be dead. Even if her father was alive he was mixed up in something terrible.
She shoved these thoughts aside, not wanting to think about anything bad at the moment. She snuggled closer against Randall and closed her eyes. It was late. She could think about all the bad things in her life in the morning. Tonight she just wanted to enjoy sleeping in Randall’s arms.
The arms came out of nowhere and
grabbed her tightly as the point of a knife pricked the side of her neck. “Make a sound and I’ll slit your throat,” he said as he dragged her away from the campsite.
The scream that begged to be released remained inside her as she found herself hauled deeper into the jungle where four other men awaited. The man with the knife threw her to the ground, and the others laughed and called her names. Several of them kicked her, the pain slicing through her ribs and stealing her breath.
Her heart beat frantically as they grabbed her arms, her legs, and pinned her down. The man who was obviously in charge leered down at her. “You are a beautiful woman,” he said. “You excite me.”
When he began to unbuckle his belt she knew what was going to happen, and as the scream finally made it to her lips it was stuffed back by a grimy hand that clamped tight against her mouth.
Trapped. She was trapped, and terror forced bile to surge up in her throat. Help me! For God’s sake somebody please help me!
“Caitlin!”
Oh, God, how did they know her name? They shouldn’t know her name! She shouldn’t have been so careless. Why were they doing this to her?
“Caitlin, honey, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
The strong, deep voice sliced through the terror and slowly the familiar vision of the jungle faded away. She opened her eyes and saw Randall’s face. For one long agonizing moment she simply stared at him and then she launched herself into his arms.
“It’s okay, it was just a bad dream,” he said as she burrowed closer to him. His hands moved up and down her back, soothing strokes that she wanted to go on forever.
She couldn’t speak. The residual horror of the nightmare, of the memory shook through her as his caresses on her back stopped and he tightened his arms around her. She didn’t find his embrace oppressive, but rather comforting.
“Baby, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he said.
Slowly the horror began to pass and her heartbeat returned to a more normal rhythm. Although Randall asked nothing, she felt the questions she knew he must have.
How could he not have questions after everything they’d been through, after knowing what little he did about her? He wouldn’t be normal if he didn’t have questions. And she owed him answers. He deserved to know the truth.
“It wasn’t just a nightmare,” she finally said. “It was a memory…a horrible memory.”
She moved out of his embrace and sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him as she stared at the patterns of moonlight dancing on the wall in front of her.
She hadn’t intended ever to tell anyone what had happened to her, but now she realized she had to tell Randall. “You asked me what brought me home from my work.” Although she felt strong and sure of what she was about to do, she was vaguely surprised that her voice trembled.
She drew a deep breath. “I was raped. That’s what brought me home.”
Rhett had suspected something like this, but hearing the stark words come from her crashed a killing weight onto his heart. It all made sense now: her desire to be in control, her need for him to be submissive and the darkness he’d sensed in her.
Sorrow and rage rose up inside him and he shoved both emotions away, knowing she didn’t need either from him at this moment. He wasn’t sure exactly what she needed, but he intended to try to give it to her.
Although he wanted to smash something, find the person responsible for hurting her and tear his head off, his immediate need was to be whatever she needed him to be right now. His sense was that, more than anything, what she needed was to be held by him.
He pulled her into his arms and they tumbled back on the bed where he cuddled her. She released a tremulous sigh and relaxed against him.
They didn’t speak. He had no words for her and she didn’t appear to want to talk at the moment. She just needed the connection of his arms around her making her feel safe, and the quietness to calm whatever storm raged inside her. He stroked her hair, the silky strands curling to cling around his fingers as if they, too, needed connection with a warm human being.
Being a man, it was impossible for him to completely relate to what she’d gone through, but he could definitely identify with the terror of being helpless, the unadulterated fear of being killed.
As a former cop he knew the taste of terror, the kind of fear that could close off your throat and make your knees buckle.
His mind flashed back to his years as a cop on the Detroit police force. Detroit was a tough town and there had been more than one time that Rhett had found himself in a situation where he was in fear for his life.
But he’d signed on for that when he joined the force. Caitlin hadn’t signed on to be raped when she’d donated her time and skill to help others.
He tightened his arms around her and once again fought an anger he’d only felt once before—on the day that Rebecca had died in his arms. That day he’d been angry with fate. At this moment his anger burned for one man, the man who had hurt Caitlin.
“Why don’t we go down to the kitchen? I think maybe I’d like some coffee,” she said as she stirred against him. “And then I want to tell you exactly what happened.”
He released her and got out of the bed. He was glad she wanted to go downstairs. He didn’t want to hear the details from her in this intimate setting where they had made such beautiful love.
They both got out of the bed and while he put on his jeans she grabbed her nightgown and pulled it over her head and then pulled a robe around herself, as well.
He held out his hand to her and she grasped it as if it were a lifeline as they walked down the stairs side by side.
When they reached the kitchen she sat at the table and he made a short pot of coffee. They didn’t speak until the coffee had finished brewing and he’d poured them each a cup and joined her at the table.
Her pale, taut features once again forced emotion into his chest. He watched as she wrapped her fingers around the mug, as if seeking whatever warmth she could find.
“Tell me what happened whenever you’re ready,” he said, even though he suspected the details would simply feed the rage and grief bubbling inside him.
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “It had been a rough day,” she said as she set the cup back on the table. “Too many people needing help, not enough supplies to do what needed to be done. It was frustrating every day, but this one had been worse than usual. By the time nightfall came I was discouraged and just wanted a little alone time.” She paused and took another sip of her coffee, her gaze shooting off to the side of him.
He waited patiently, knowing the effort it was taking her to tell him what had happened to her. And in the moment of silence that ensued he recognized that she wasn’t the only one who was going to be hurt when the truth came out about who he was and why he was here.
He wasn’t going to leave here with his heart uninvolved and unscathed.
She set her cup back on the table and released a deep sigh. “Our campsite was in the middle of the jungle. We had plenty of armed guards but we’d been warned that the jungle was filled not only with wild animals, but also with marauding bands of men. We were in the middle of an area that was known for ruthless dope dealers and thieves. I never felt unsafe, but that night I guess I got too close to the perimeter of the camp and a man grabbed me.”
Her throat worked convulsively, as if she had trouble swallowing, and when she looked at him again her gray eyes were nearly black. “He held a knife to my throat and told me if I screamed he’d kill me. He dragged me deeper into the jungle to where there were four men waiting.”
Rhett’s stomach twisted as he thought of her helpless and afraid at the hands of not one, not two, but five men. His face must have shown something for she leaned forward and held his gaze with hers.
“Only one raped me. The others held me down.” Her cheeks flushed a vivid red and he had his answer about why she hadn’t wanted him on top of her in a position of dominance.
She stared out th
e nearby window into the darkness of the night. Rhett waited patiently. There was no way he intended to prompt or hurry her. He knew she would tell him what she wanted to in her own time.
She released a deep sigh, still staring out the window.
“They threw me to the ground and kicked me in the ribs a couple of times. I didn’t know what they wanted. I had no purse or anything with me so I knew it wasn’t a robbery. The one who raped me…he seemed to be the leader of the group. The others did what he told them to do.”
“Did they call him by name?”
She looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn’t thought about it before. Closing her eyes, she grew very still and he could only imagine the images flashing through her head as she went back to the jungle.
Her eyes flung open. “Mark. One of them called him Mark.” She leaned back in the chair, her skin returning to a more normal shade. “What difference does it make if I know his name or not?”
“I like knowing what name to curse,” he replied, surprised to hear a tremble of emotion in his own voice.
To his further surprise she offered him a small smile. “I like the way you think.”
He was grateful she couldn’t know his thoughts, for they were definitely dark and ugly at the moment. “Did you report it to anyone?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know. I felt dirty…ugly and so violated. When the men from my camp arrived I told them the men had tried to rob me. I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone else. I didn’t even want to think about it.”
Rhett had been a cop long enough to know that it was common for the crime of rape not to be reported by women for a variety of reasons, and even though he wished Caitlin had reported it, he wasn’t about to judge her for not doing so.
“Have you told Esme?”
“Definitely not,” she replied quickly. “It would break her heart. Besides, what’s important is that I survived,” she said, pulling him from the dark place in his mind. “A little broken, a little battered, but I’m here and I’m going to be fine.”
Rancher Under Cover Page 11
