Chain of Love

by Anne Stuart

  * * *

  There was no sign of his forest-green BMW in the parking lot adjacent to his building, or on any of the streets around. Hedging her bets, Cathy parked several blocks away, walking the distance through the autumn-cool streets of Alexandria in jeans, high-laced boots and a thick pullover. Compared to Vermont’s early winter the weather was positively tepid, and her hips swung with a casual sway as she strolled down the sidewalks. It was nearly evening; almost seven o’clock, and Cathy had been driving for thirteen hours. Thirteen hours that had seen her grow progressively more light-hearted as she neared the Washington area, despite the uncertainty of her reception. When she reached the outskirts of Alexandria she had hesitated, longing for a hot shower and a nap more than anything. But a belated uncertainty crept in, and she knew if she put it off she might never have the courage to beard the panther in his den. He would simply have to take her, travel-stained and exhausted, as she was. She only hoped he’d take her.

  There was no answer to her ringing of the red-painted, paneled door of his apartment. By the looks of things Meg had been right—Sin didn’t need her money. The understated charm of the building and the foyer proclaimed discreetly that here resided people of wealth and taste. Fumbling with the keys, she tried one after the other, going through the entire set twice before managing to turn the bolt. And then she slipped into the darkened flat, closing the door behind her.

  It had a musty, closed-up smell about it, she realized as she moved around switching on lights. She opened a window to air it out, then turned to survey Sin’s living quarters.

  They suited him, she decided after a long perusal. Leather couches, brass lamps, ancient oriental carpets on the polished hardwood floors. The striking modern painting above the fireplace boasted a signature well-known to Cathy, and the impresssionist print in the hallway turned out to be quite real. The burgundy red of the curtains comple-mented the deep hues of the carpet, and the wood shone with loving care. The place looked like Sin— casual, elegant, and comfortable. And very handsome, she added gloomily, wandering through the beautifully organized country-style kitchen with its gleaming copper and butcher block counters. But she was unprepared for the sybaritic luxury of the bedroom and bath. The kingsize bed dominated the large room, the striking charcoal nudes that hung on the walls adding a touch of sensuality. Those would have to go, Cathy decided impishly. They were far more full-figured than she was—positively Ruben esque, when it came right down to it. She didn’t want Sin to have the chance to make odious comparisons.

  Sudden doubt assailed her. What if he wasn’t glad to see her? What if Meg had read only what she wanted to read into Sin’s actions? What if he was glad to be rid of her, and finding her in his apartment was the last thing he wanted?

  At that moment her eyes dropped to the bedside table. There was a picture there, a snapshot of a beautiful woman in a bikini. A jealous misery washed over her, and then she stared more closely at the photo. It was a very happy Cathy. Sometime during those four days on St. Alphonse Meg had taken her picture, and Sin had wheedled it out of her. It was in a heavy silver frame, her green eyes laughing up from behind the curtain of blond hair. There was a question in her eyes, a look of doubt that told Cathy that Sin had taken it after all. The day they left their tiny island and headed for disillusionment on Martin’s Head. If she looked closely she fancied she could see the hurt lingering, waiting to attack. Carefully she placed the frame back on the table. And then she noticed, lying unobtrusively beside it, the gold chain.

  Tears of relief flooded her eyes as the last of her doubts vanished. He wanted her. For the first time in six weeks she found she was hungry. There was scarcely anything in Sin’s refrigerator. Finally making do with a cheese sandwich and one of Sin’s imported beers, she strolled over to his desk. Pieces of paper littered the top, covered with Sin’s bold scrawl. Her name, over and over again. A list of her best friends, complete with addresses and phone numbers, all crossed out. A listing of her car model and license plate. And various other notes concerning her habits, her friends, her favorite pastimes and restaurants. Cathy stared down at them with a wistful smile. For all his legendary proficiency he hadn’t been able to find her. She’d covered her tracks a bit too well. A yawn overtook her, and then another, and she rubbed her gritty eyes wearily.

  Where was he? If he didn’t show up soon she’d be sound asleep, and she had grave doubts about her ability to reenact Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Maybe a shower would wake her up. If Sin came home in the middle of it, well... Things would simply have to resolve themselves naturally.

  But the hot shower had the opposite effect. Once she stepped from the steaming stall she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Toweling her hair dry, she stepped nude into his bedroom, her toes reveling in the thick brown carpet. He’d had the chain repaired, she noticed. It hung a little more loosely around her slender waist than it had six weeks before, but at least it didn’t slide off once she did the clasp.

  It had been a fitting gift, she mused. For despite her hurt and betrayal, she was chained to him as surely as if she were manacled. But it was her own overwhelming love that chained her, and therein lay her power and her salvation.

  There was a floor-length hooded velour wrapper behind the bathroom door. She pulled it on, and then, on impulse, moved through the apartment, turning off the lights, closing the window, effectively wiping out any trace of her early arrival. And then, switching off the bedroom light, she climbed into his huge bed, chuckling to herself, “And who’s been sleeping in my bed?” And then, moments after her still damp head hit the soft feather pillow, she was sound asleep.

  The voices woke her from a deep, dreamless sleep. For a moment she panicked, forgetting in the darkened interior of the bedroom exactly where she was. And then, as she returned to full cognizance, the panic deepened. That was a woman’s voice out there, a light, sultry female that provided a perfect counterpoint to Sin’s deep tones. Oh, my God, Cathy thought, the full horror of the situation washing over her. He’s brought a woman home with him.

  Silently she crawled out of the bed, pulling the velour wrapper about her as she tiptoed to the half-opened door and pressed her ear against it, straining to hear their conversation.

  “Get some sleep, Sin darling,” the woman said companionably, and Cathy gnashed her teeth.

  “You look like hell. You’ve been working too hard, you know.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well, Barb,” he confessed. Cathy could imagine him running a hand through his rumpled brown curls as he made that admission, and her stomach knotted with sudden longing. How was she going to escape before he brought that—that creature into the bedroom?

  “Is she worth it, Sin?” the woman’s voice came again, and Cathy pressed closer, wondering if she heard correctly.

  “Yes.” The answer was unequivocal. To Cathy’s mingled relief and consternation he put a hand behind the lady’s slender back and guided her to the front door. “Tell Frank I appreciate him letting me borrow his best girl for the evening. I don’t think I could have managed to remember all that without your taking notes.”

  “What else is a secretary for? Besides, if Frank can’t trust his brother who can he trust? I’m sure you’d do the same for him.” She let out a small trill of laughter. “Not that I’m as understanding. I wouldn’t care for Frank to spend an evening alone with your Cathy. She’s far too pretty, if that picture is any proof.” She reached up and gave Sin a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “Find her, Sin. Find her, or get over her.”

  “I’m trying, Barb,” he said morosely. “I’ve got to.” The light in the hall illuminated his face for a moment as he let Barb out, and Cathy drew an involuntary breath of surprise. He looked drawn and haggard, and she could easily believe he hadn’t been sleeping well. Was she the cause of that? She could only hope so. Dropping the robe on the thick carpet, she scrambled back into the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin, and prepared to wait.

  She didn’t have long.
First the chink of ice and the sound of a drink being poured filtered in from the living room. Then the sound of his boots dropping on the floor, the muted notes of a bluesy ballad from the stereo. The lights flickered off, the bedroom door opened, and Sin stood there, framed in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled from his pants. There was enough light from the streetlamps outside to illuminate the room, casting the bed’s lone occupant in the shadows. Without bothering to turn on the light, he kicked the door shut behind him, shrugged out of his shirt, and took a long pull from his drink. And then he stepped on the hastily discarded bathrobe.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, scooping it up from the floor. Faint traces of her scent still clung to it, flowering the air. He was suddenly very still.

  It was now or never, Cathy thought, her heart pounding against the thin cotton sheet. What could she say? Something cute, light, and clever? Something witty and sophisticated, to set the tone, keep it casual? Slowly she sat up, searching for the right words. And it came out, one perfect word, in a tone of such longing that time seemed to stand still.

  “Sin?” Her voice trembled and broke on the word. And then his arms were around her, his lips covering hers, and all that existed in the world were their bodies and their need and love.

  No more words were needed. Slowly, achingly, they brought each other to the point of ecstasy and beyond, instinctively knowing what the other needed, answering that need and glorying in their ability to do so. Their union was made all the sweeter by the six week abstinence and the uncertainties, uncertainties that at that moment no longer needed explaining. And as the final m-ments of passion approached and peaked, Cathy knew that nothing short of force could remove her from her lover’s side. As his cry echoed in the night, she knew he felt the same, and together they traveled over the edge of the mountain to dash into a thousand stars against the rocks below.

  It was a long, long time before he spoke. Their bodies were drenched with sweat, still warm with the glow of their perfect love. He cradled her body against his, one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her swollen lips as if he couldn’t quite believe she was really there. “Don’t you ever,” he said, and his breathing was still ragged, “leave me again. I don’t think I could stand it.”

  She snuggled closer against his commanding length, a mischievous grin playing about her mouth. “I guess I’d better not. I waited long enough for you to find me, then had to give up and come to you. How you ever got to be so successful as a private investigator is beyond me. Can’t find a simple thing like a wife when you set your mind to it,” she mocked lightly, giving herself up to the sweet punishment of his kiss at her lack of respect.

  “I would think,” he said after a long, breathless moment, “that you’re more than a match for me. Professionally, and otherwise.” There was a longer pause. “I never meant to fall in love with you.”

  Cathy gloried in the words, even though his body had told her as much over and over again. “I should have warned you,” she said sleepily, rubbing her smooth cheek against his chest. “There are times when I never take no for an answer, either.”

  “Is this one of them?” He cradled her head against his shoulder.

  “Anything to do with you is,” she replied pertly. His hands reached down and stroked her waist, resting lightly on the gold chain.

  “I know why you came back,” he drawled. “You just wanted your chain.”

  “Sin, darling.” She raised herself up to look him squarely in the eye. “I didn’t need this scrap of gold to feel chained to you.” Her face was shining with love. “You still haven’t let me say it, you know.”

  His eyes were very serious as they looked down into hers. “I couldn’t, Cathy. I couldn’t tell you I loved you when I was busy tricking you, and I couldn’t let you tell me. I figured that was the only dignity I could save you.”

  A small smile curved her mouth. “And do I still need a shred of dignity?” she questioned airily.

  His smile met hers. “No, my love. You have a natural dignity that nothing can take away.”

  “Then,” she said, levering herself above him and resting her hands on his hard chest, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...” She continued it like a litany as her greedy mouth showered kisses on his mouth, his neck, his chest. “I love you, I love you, I love you...” Until his hungry mouth captured hers once more, and there was no longer any need for words.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-two

  * * *

  The Tamlyn rocked gently beneath her unsteady feet, and Cathy squinted up through the bright tropical sunlight to her husband’s amused face.

  “Thank heavens you found a more tranquil place to anchor, she said with heartfelt gratitude, the green tinge beginning to leave her face. “I’m not sure if this was the best possible way to spend our first anniversary.”

  “You’ve never been seasick before,” Sin said lazily, leaning back against the cushions on the deck.

  “I’ve never been four months pregnant before,” she replied, the pleased grin that touched her face whenever she thought of it taking the sting out of her words. “And now that we’re relatively motionless I’ll do just fine. Where exactly are we?” She peered out at the small, secluded cove with dawning, delighted recognition.

  “Five hours south of St. Alphonse.” He caught her exuberant body with expert ease, laughing tenderly at her. “I told you I could find it again.”

  “I should have trusted you,” she said ruefully, her green eyes shining up at him as she settled herself into the curve of his arm.

  “Yes, you should have,” he returned lightly, his lips brushing hers. “But I forgive you.”

  A small chuckle escaped her. “Magnanimous of you. Do you suppose Alexander is going to enjoy having a new cousin?”

  “I expect Meg will have them playing together in the cradle. Are you going to dote on ours as much as Meg moons over Alexander?”

  “Probably worse.” She cast a belatedly worried glance up at his suntanned profile. “Will you be jealous?”

  “You forget, I know you pretty well by this time. I have no doubt you have enough for the both of us, and more besides.”

  With a sigh of complete happiness she pressed closer against his lean, sun-warmed body. “You’re absolutely right. And absolutely wonderful.”

  “Of course I am. And to prove my devotion I’ll tell you now that I’d rather sail down to the Caribbean with you vomiting all the way, than with your brother-in-law anytime.”

  “Charles’s snoring being worse than nausea?” she queried impishly. “You’re so romantic I don’t know how I stand it.”

  In light punishment his face covered hers, blocking out the bright sunlight as his mouth caught hers in a long, slow, deep kiss. When he finally released her, her heart was pounding, her pulses racing, and the light that shone in her large green eyes was both dazzling and dazzled.

  “Not romantic, am I?” Sin grumbled. “I’ve got a mind not to give you your anniversary present.”

  “But you already did!” Cathy protested. “This trip-”

  “Is ephemeral. In a while it will only be a memory. I wanted something more lasting.” He drew a small velvet box from the pocket of his khaki shorts.

  “Oh, Sin, I didn’t get you anything....” She took the box reluctantly, but he silenced her with one large, warm hand spread tenderly over her rounded belly that swelled gently over the skimpy bikini.

  “Hush, love,” he murmured. “You’ve already given me the two most important things in my life.”

  With trembling fingers she opened the box. There, nestled against the soft velvet, was a long gold chain, with a heart-shaped emerald pendant attached. “Oh, Sin,” she whispered.

  “You’ve almost outgrown the other one,” he said lightly, his fingers playing with the gold chain that now fit quite snugly around her thickening waist. “So I thought I’d better get you one for your neck. I wanted to make sure you’d always have somet
hing to remind you.”

  She smiled up at him tremulously, her emerald-green eyes bright with unshed tears. “Remind me of how much I love you, how much I’m chained to you? I don’t need to be reminded, Sin.”

  He shook his head. “No, darling. It’s to remind you how much I love you. And that I’m chained to you just as you are to me, by chains of love as fine and strong as the gold around your waist. Never doubt it, Cathy. Never doubt me.”

  It was a plea, not a command, and her answer was in her eyes, in her heart, in her mouth as she kissed him, her softly rounded body pressed against his lean strength. Passion, never far away, flared between them. As Sin scooped her up in his strong arms and started toward the cabin Cathy let out a soft laugh of pure pleasure. “I think I’m going to enjoy this honeymoon even better than the first one,” she murmured as with great dexterity he maneuvered them down into the main cabin and back toward the bedroom.

  “And why is that?” he queried, one eyebrow raised.

  “Because this time I won’t make you wear those ridiculous jockey shorts,” she laughed. And reaching around his shoulder, she pushed the bedroom door shut behind them.

  If you enjoyed CHAIN OF LOVE, check out

  Anne Stuart’s Bad Boy Collection.

  * * *

  About Anne Stuart

  * * *

  Anne Stuart is a grandmaster of the genre, winner of Romance Writers of America's prestigious Lifetime Achievement Award, survivor of more than thirty-five years in the romance business, and still just keeps getting better.

  Her first novel was Barrett's Hill, a gothic romance published by Ballantine in 1974 when Anne had just turned 25. Since then she's written more gothics, regencies, romantic suspense, romantic adventure, series romance, suspense, historical romance, paranormal and mainstream contemporary romance for publishers such as Doubleday, Harlequin, Silhouette, Avon, Zebra, St. Martins Press, Berkley, Dell, Pocket Books and Fawcett.