HOT-BLOODED HERO

by Donna Sterling

  “Let’s walk,” she said, cutting off his rambling explanation and rising to her feet. The ivory gown billowing around her, the blossoms and pearls woven through her hair, reminded him of the ceremony that had bound them together into one legal entity. Legally speaking, she was his. “I need to walk.”

  He stood and extended his hand. He wondered if she’d take it. She hadn’t before.

  After only the briefest hesitation, she accepted his hand. A small measure of victory flushed through him, warming him; making him savor all the more the feel of her delicate but responsive hand. He led her down the terrace steps and along a bricked pathway into the formal gardens. The profusion of flowers and greenery, the gleaming river, the star-brilliant sky … beauty he’d experienced countless times was magically enhanced by the subtle scent of her; the warmth she inspired in him; the incredible loveliness of her face, her lustrous hair, her naked shoulders. Her body.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss the hesitation right out of her. He had no doubt that he could. In a place as unlikely as a chapel, with three pious onlookers, she’d succumbed entirely to his kiss and ambushed him with her own. He wanted to feel that stunning heat again. Soon. Now.

  He stopped beside a fragrant trellis of roses and took firm possession of her shoulders; peered into her eyes; filled himself with her beauty. “Tess, I—”

  “Henry wants you to find another McCrary woman, doesn’t he?”

  Her perceptiveness, as well as the abrupt departure from his own line of thought, surprised him into momentary silence. “Yes.”

  “He’s afraid that I’ll stop you in some way from inheriting.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I won’t betray you.”

  He believed her. And he wanted her. So much he ached with it. “But what if we’re called to testify? Would you be willing to lie under oath that you slept with me, as my wife, in every sense of the word?”

  “I won’t lie.” No surprise there. “But I won’t have to.” Her gaze shone with vibrant sincerity.

  His pulse leaped. What did she mean? Was he jumping to conclusions, reading too much into her words? But what other possible meaning could she have than—

  “I’ll share your room,” she expounded in slow, halting words. “I’ll sleep in your bed.” His heart slammed to a near standstill. “And I will make love to you.”

  A sleek, potent heat filled him; a hot exhilaration. His astonishment was just as strong, though. He hadn’t expected an immediate surrender. In the limo, she’d been holding him off and swearing she loved another man.

  A glut of emotions hit Cole, so strong and unfamiliar that he almost let her go. If she loved another man, why had she decided to sleep with him? He’d told her he would overlook her emotional attachment to Philip—and by God, he would—but why had she gone from refusing to hold his hand to agreeing to give him her body?

  For the money? Because she didn’t want to lose two million dollars and McCrary Place if he should decide to find another bride?

  No. He didn’t believe it. He might not have known her for long, but he knew her better than that. At least, he thought he did.

  With his chest bound painfully tight by some invisible chain, he held her arms and searched her face by the hazy light of the moon. He didn’t want to ask her; didn’t want to risk having her change her mind. But the question burned in him. “Why, Tess? Why are you wiling to sleep with me now when you wouldn’t even kiss me in the limo or hold my hand before dinner?”

  “I … I’d rather not say.”

  “Not say?” How did she manage to continually surprise him? If she was willing to sleep with him for the money, surely she could bring herself to utter a few flattering words to explain her change of heart. But she hadn’t agreed because of the money. And he intended to make her admit it. “Is it because you’re afraid I’ll follow Henry’s advice and find another McCrary bride?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “And you’re going to sleep with me so you can honestly testify under oath that I’ve fulfilled the conditions of the curse.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you want the money and McCrary Place.”

  Her lips tightened and her gaze glimmered with secrets. “Of course.”

  He wouldn’t let her get away with hiding her real motive from him. “Then I must admit,” he murmured in a honeyed tone as he ran his hands up her arms and allowed his gaze to travel suggestively, “that I’m looking forward to finding out just what kind of lovin’ two million dollars can buy.”

  She flinched as if he’d raised a hand to her, making him regret the comment. He braced himself for a torrent of curses or at least one good “go to hell.” But she remained white-lipped and silent.

  Which only angered him more. “I’m not going to back out of our deal, Tess. If you honor your end of our bargain by living here for five months, I’ll give you the money and McCrary Place

  . You don’t have to sleep with me for it. In fact, I’d prefer that you didn’t.” And he realized that he meant it. As much as he wanted her, he didn’t want to buy her. He turned to walk away.

  “Cole.”

  He glanced back, expecting to see relief in her gaze, or maybe even gratitude.

  Oddly enough, he saw something like alarm. “Why do you have to be so exasperating?” she cried. “You were pretty darn confident in your seductive powers before. Why not now? Why can’t you just assume that your manly charms have overcome my common sense?”

  If he wasn’t so frustrated with her, he might have laughed. Overcome her common sense. Was that her idea of a compliment? He caught her gently beneath the chin to prevent her from escaping his scrutiny. “If you want me to believe that you’re suddenly willing to fall into my bed because I’m irresistible, then tell me so.”

  Her expression grew troubled, then softened in the most bewildering way, and she did something that astounded him. She reached up and caressed his face with a gentle, lingering hand. “I can’t tell you that.” Her touch, her tenderness, filled him with a powerful yearning. “It wouldn’t be fair. Even worse than a woman who sleeps with a man for money is one who cons her way into his life with pretty lies. I’ll admit that you’re … well … attractive.” Her color flared and her gaze grew inexplicably shy. “And that your kiss in the chapel made me … forget myself,” she confessed in a whisper. She lowered her hand from his face, and he immediately missed her touch. “But that’s not the reason I’ve changed my mind about going to bed with you.”

  He was very close to shaking her—or kissing her senseless, carrying her upstairs and forgetting about “why.” For some insane reason, though, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. “Tell me.”

  She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the starry sky, as if beseeching heaven for strength. She then peeked out from beneath the long, thick lashes of one squinting eye, as if trying to judge the wisdom of telling him. “The curse.”

  He watched her in silence, waiting for more of the explanation. When nothing followed, he frowned. “What about the curse?”

  “I believe it’s possible … just possible, mind you … that, um … it could be valid.”

  “Valid?”

  She spread out her hands imploringly. “Don’t you see, Cole? Your family hasn’t had a marriage last beyond a year and mine has suffered tragedies in every family circle since 1825, when the curse was written. And now my father and future brother-in-law are in terrible trouble, and my mother and sister are facing devastating heartbreak. Can’t you see that some dark power might be at work here?”

  “You actually believe in the curse?”

  “I’m not sure if I do or not, but why take the chance that it might be real? If it is, you and I have the means to lift it.”

  “By marrying, and following all the terms set out in the curse. By making love.”

  “Yes.”

  She had, somehow, managed to do it again. His insides tangled into knots so tight, he could barely breath
e, and he wasn’t even sure why. Incredulity swamped him to think she believed in the curse, no matter how tentative that belief might be. And though he was glad that the money hadn’t been her motivation—damn glad—the idea that she was willing to make love to him to repeal the curse made him feel equally used.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, she’d practically scorned his “manly charms,” as she’d put it. Manly charms. Ha! Charms, manly or otherwise, had nothing to do with the explosive sexual chemistry that had nearly detonated in the chapel over a simple kiss. Or the heat that flared between them every time they touched, or stared at each other for too long, or came within touching distance.

  Unreasonable anger flooded him. He knew it to be unreasonable. After all, he’d married her only to satisfy a will. He was using her as blatantly as she was using him. His anger mixed with equally unreasonable desire. Why should he want her so damn much? He’d had his pick of beautiful women since he was a teenager, and as long as he inherited the Westcott fortune, he always would.

  That thought didn’t help one damn bit.

  The anger, the desire, the need to affect her as strongly as she affected him, funneled into a powerful drive. He would take her up on her noble offer, this woman willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of her family. He’d make sure that she couldn’t testify in court that he hadn’t “taken her into his bed and planted his seed within her.”

  Oh, he’d do that, all right. And he’d do it well. He’d make love to her like she’d never been loved before. He’d drive it all from her mind—the curse, the will, and her blasted fiancé. The guy she probably wished she’d married today.

  “You understand, then,” she was saying, her eyes wide and earnest, “why I was so concerned that you might choose another McCrary bride. If you did, she might not be a descendant of the original McCrary clan of Charleston, and the curse might not be lifted.”

  “We sure can’t risk that,” he agreed.

  “No, we can’t. No matter what we might personally want to do, we have to comply with the curse.”

  “It’s our duty.”

  “Yes, it is. Including the ‘forsaking all others’ part.”

  He compressed his lips, drew in a loud, deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nostrils. In a tone of hard-edged determination, he said, “If I must, I must.”

  Tess eyed him in doubt. He sounded sincere enough, but she wondered if he truly understood the gravity of the situation. “Including Lacey LaBonne.”

  He reached for her, his eyes darker, warmer, more intense, as he drew her closer. “You’ll have to help me through it.”

  Warmth stirred within her at his sudden nearness; his intensity. She worried, though, that he wasn’t focusing on the big picture quite the way she was. “You do realize the seriousness of this … quest … don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am.” His husky, drawled response warmed her blood. “We’d better not waste another minute.” He skimmed his hands over the curve of her cheeks, his fingers fanning and caressing as he tilted her face to his. Her heart tripped into a faster, heavier beat. “Who knows what kind of trouble might be brewing among our kinfolk, even now?”

  “That’s true.” She couldn’t ignore that alarming possibility. “It may be working against us until we actually…”

  “…satisfy the demands.” His heated gaze lured her away from her worry; drugged her with a splendid rush of sensuality. “Every last demand, Tess,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and swept his mouth across hers—a long, slow, feather-soft conquest.

  Heat seared through her, along with explicitly sexual longing. The force of that longing frightened her. It would be so easy to forget her worries, forget the reason behind their lovemaking, and lose herself in the heat. Lose herself.

  She couldn’t allow that. Couldn’t give up her control or forget her purpose, even for a moment. She had to fortify herself against the seductive pleasure. Carry out her duty without forfeiting anything important.

  She jerked away from his embrace before he could deepen the kiss. “Okay, then.” Her voice quavered, and she could barely force herself to meet his frowning, questioning stare. “The original terms of our agreement are still in force, and we will … work together to … meet the demands of both your father’s will and the curse.”

  He muttered in vague, impatient agreement and reached for her again.

  She backed away, winding her fists in the fabric of her billowing satin gown. “You might be right about the curse stirring up trouble. I’m going to call home to be sure that no new problems have cropped up, and to see how my father and brother-in-law are doing. And then I’ll need to get my suitcase. I only packed one. I didn’t have time to pack another. And I’d really like a hot bath, and some time alone to—” She realized she was rambling and forced her words to a halt. “Why don’t we set a time that’s convenient to both of our schedules?”

  He frowned at her, his gaze searching hers in the most unsettling way. “Tonight.” His tone, his stare, left no room for negotiation.

  Distrustful of her voice, she nodded.

  “Upstairs,” he said, like a gunfighter naming the site of a duel. “The hallway to your right. Last bedroom.”

  Drawing in a shaky breath, she nodded, wrenched her gaze away from his dark, determined face and hurried toward the house. She didn’t exactly run. She wouldn’t allow herself to run.

  “Your suitcase should already be there,” he called out. “And so is a phone. I’ll be up in an hour. One hour, Tess.”

  One hour. He would meet her then in his bedroom. To “take her into his bed” and “plant his seed within her.” She wasn’t sure her trembling legs would carry her all the way to the house, let alone up a flight of stairs.

  As she neared the terrace, she couldn’t help one quick glance behind her. He remained where she’d left him—a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette in the moonlit garden.

  She didn’t allow herself to regret breaking away from his kiss. This was business, not pleasure. She’d do what was required. Nothing extra. Nothing too unnecessarily personal. Nothing too … stirring.

  She hoped he’d gotten the message.

  *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Other than a brief phone call to her mother that assured her no new developments or disasters had occurred, Tess spent the hour preparing herself for the night ahead of her. She’d always considered herself a strong, solidly grounded woman, yet faced with the prospect of making love to Cole, she felt vulnerable.

  Which was crazy. He could take no more than she offered. Possession of her body did not necessarily mean possession of her heart and soul. Did it?

  Of course not.

  He kept to his word and stayed away, but she felt his presence anyway as she undressed in his immense bedroom, stepping out of her bridal gown and petticoats; laying them carefully across an armchair. The elegant décor of the room in soothing shades of blue, muted burgundy and pearl gray ensconced her in an aura of luxury—a feeling the man himself also inspired in her, with his thick, dark, sun-gilded hair and heart-stirring smile; his easy strength and quick intelligence. His incredibly potent kiss. Luxury.

  But that kind of luxury had no place in her world. And she had no permanent place in his world. She couldn’t forget those facts. She would approach their encounter tonight in the most impersonal way possible. She would have sex with him in the most impersonal way possible.

  How would she ever manage that? She would have to.

  Heat flushed through her just thinking about it, and she forced her attention to her surroundings. Expensive contemporary furnishings, fabrics and draperies, plush carpeting and classical works of art shared space with unique treasures he’d probably collected in his travels. Where had he gone, what had he done, in his travels? Who had he taken with him? Women, probably.

  She wasn’t one of his women. She couldn’t bear to be one of them.

  He had no personal photographs anywhere in sight. Other than
a jar of coins and small tray of cuff links, he had no personal clutter on his dressers or desk. No clues to his inner person. Faint traces of his scent lingered in the air, though, evoking images of his face, memories of his touch. His bed, she noticed, was larger than king-size and plush with a downy comforter and a mound of burgundy satin pillows. A sensuous bed.

  Her heart rushed, and she turned away from the evocative sight. She’d be sharing that bed with him tonight … and every night for the next five months. But the curse hadn’t specified how many times the “planting of the seed” had to be done. One time should suffice. They would slip beneath the bedcovers and … well, just do it. Get it over with. Plant the seed and move on.

  The term “plant” had caused her a few moments of acute anxiety when she’d first had time to mull it over. “Planting,” to her way of thinking, usually involved a seed taking root In this case, did it imply conception? Would the wearing of a condom interfere with the curse’s demand to “plant his seed within her”? She intended to follow the terms of the curse implicitly, but the possibility of pregnancy added a whole extra dimension that would require much more thought.

  Holding her panic firmly in check, she found a leather-bound Webster’s Dictionary on his desk and looked up the word “plant.” To her great relief, she discovered that the third definition would fit their purpose. Plant: To place firmly or forcibly; such as “planted a hard blow on his chin.” According to this definition, Cole could plant his seed within her, and the condom wouldn’t interfere. Thank God!

  And when the deed was dome, she would stay on her side of the bed and he’d stay on his. They could pile those pillows between them and barely realize the other person was there at all.