They’d talked politics, favorite foods, tastes in music. His repertoire of bawdy-house songs was impressive, and the recipe he touted for a pecan tart had Kat itching to get to the kitchen. She found herself telling him stories about her childhood, about her father’s courtship of Jenny Fortune and the McBride Menaces’ contributions to the effort. He was sneaky with his questions, though, making subtle points about the value of stepmothers to children with no maternal figure in their lives.
It was when his interrogations turned toward Susie that Kat put a stop to the questioning by proposing a fishing expedition. She’d have been happy fishing off the pier that extended into the lake, but for some reason Jake wanted to take the rowboat out. He’d insisted she sit at the very front of it.
“Have you ever eaten Tagine t’Faia?” he asked out of the blue.
Kat frowned at him. “You’re a very strange man.”
He slashed a grin. “It’s a Moroccan chicken dish. It’s made with saffron and ginger. It’s very good.”
“I see.” Feeling a tug on her line, Kat yanked her pole. Darn, something stole her worm. “So, are we having Moroccan chicken for dinner tonight?”
“Not tonight.” His smile went wicked. “Tonight we’re having Italian.”
Suspicious now, Kat baited her hook. “What are you up to?”
“Just wanting to be sure that I satisfy your appetite.” With that, he yanked another fish into the boat.
Kat wrinkled her nose at the small bass flopping in the bottom of the boat. She reacted not to the smell or to the slime, but to the fact that she truly hated to lose. Since that appeared to be the likely outcome, she fell back on a tried-and-true tactic. “You’re cheating.”
“Cheating? How can a person cheat at fishing?”
“I don’t know, but you’re doing it. This contest is over.”
Jake gaped at her. “I didn’t cheat. I’m using worms just like you. I can’t help it if I’m a better fisherman than you.”
Pulling her line from the water, she sent him a scornful look. Inside, though, she was smiling. “You cheated.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
She folded her arms and turned her head away, smothering the smile that threatened.
“You just don’t want to admit you’ve lost. My sister was that way. No matter what game we played, any time she fell behind, she conjured up a reason to quit. It drove me crazy.”
He continued to grumble while he added his latest catch to his stringer. Kat pretended not to listen, and in truth, her attention did drift away. She felt light out here on the boat. Light of heart. Peaceful. Almost…happy.
It was a sobering thought.
Kat couldn’t remember a time she’d ever been this emotionally confused. Sitting here trading fish tales with Jake filled her heart with gladness. Being away from the children gave her a sense of relief. Losing herself in his arms left her physically satisfied but mentally discontent. Being a hussy wasn’t as easy as she’d expected it to be.
She wondered how Emma was holding up under similar circumstances.
Jake dipped the oars into the water and propelled the boat toward shore. For a number of minutes, neither of them spoke, and Kat’s thoughts drifted toward home. She thought of her parents and decided she was glad she’d be far away when Trace McBride learned about the most recent activities of two of his daughters. She wondered where Emma was and how Mari was doing, how her pregnancy was progressing. She’d be big and round now, the babies due soon. With her sisters on her mind, Kat’s right hand drifted up to clasp the pendant on her necklace.
The weight, missing for long, felt good in her hand. Mari would be thrilled to learn the necklace was back where it belonged. Which brought up a question she’d been wanting to ask. “What does my necklace have to do with your brother?”
Jake hesitated midstroke, then resumed his rowing. “I wondered when that would come up.”
“Well?”
He sighed. “You were so beautiful that day at the Galveston beach. I wanted a keepsake—”
“Oh, please. Skip the nonsense and try the truth for a change.”
“I don’t lie to you,” he protested.
She arched a brow and waited.
“Often.” He sighed heavily, pulled in the oars and propped the handles on his knees. “It’s a long story.”
“We’re here for six more days.”
Jake grimaced, rubbed the back of his neck, then said, “Six days won’t be enough to make sense out of nonsense. I’ve been working at it for sixteen years, and I’m still lost in a fog.”
Well, Kat thought, shifting on her seat in an effort to get a bit more comfortable. This was starting to look interesting.
“Daniel and my father enjoyed an especially close relationship. They were both passionate about the collections. Daniel brought Father most of his prizes.” Jake rested the oars on his knees and looked out over the water. “Whenever Daniel came home from one of his trips, Father allowed me to come down from school to see him and the treasures he’d brought home. I envied Daniel and my father their connection. I wanted to be part of it. When I was sixteen, I finally got my chance. Daniel agreed to let me tag along on a trip to the Himalayas.”
For the next ten minutes or so, Jake relayed a story that kept Kat enthralled. He painted a vivid picture of a wild, wondrous land and mysterious, mystical people, and in doing so, gave her a glimpse of himself that she’d never seen before.
“Was it all a dream?” he mused. “Did I lie on the floor of that cave and hallucinate the entire thing?”
Then he turned his head and met her gaze. “I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that your necklace is the exact replica of the necklace I saw in that cave. When I saw it hanging around your neck that day, I knew I had to have it. The whole thing might be fantasy, it might be a case of dehydration combined with altitude sickness added to a young man’s inexperience.”
“So you stole my necklace.”
He heaved a sigh. “Five years ago, I still wondered if my dream hadn’t been all dream, if Daniel was right and Shambhala did exist and he was living a fantastical existence in a hidden city in Tibet I thought that if your necklace somehow had the power to reach him, then…well…I had to have it.”
Yes, she could see that he would think so. If their situations were reversed, she’d likely have stolen it herself. “And the trip you’ve planned? You’re still looking for your brother?”
“No.” His gaze darted back toward her, then quickly shifted away. “I have other reasons for going. Important reasons. I signed a contract. People are depending on me.”
Uh-huh. Did he honestly believe that or was he being deliberately blind? Hiding her skepticism, Kat subtly made her point. “How long ago did your brother disappear?”
Jake thought a moment. “Going on eighteen years now.”
When Kat simply looked at him, his chin came up. “I know my brother is dead. I know he’s not going to show up at my door one day, that I won’t stumble across him in a bazaar in Mongolia. That’s all superstitious nonsense.”
Kat didn’t believe him for a minute. After hearing his story, she thought she was finally beginning to understand Jake Kimball. Whether he knew it or not, finding his brother motivated most of Jake’s life. He might know in his head that he wouldn’t stumble across his brother in a foreign bazaar, but his heart had yet to get the message.
Kat felt a sympathetic pang in the region of her own heart. He hadn’t accepted his brother’s death. She couldn’t imagine how she’d react if one of her siblings disappeared. However, that didn’t excuse Jake for planning to abandon his sister’s children. The children needed him more than did his brother’s ghost. Jake needed to see that.
She needed to make him see it.
Abruptly Kat sat up tall in her seat, creating a rocking motion in the rowboat. Could that be the answer? Maybe the necklace was working its magic, after all.
Maybe this was her task, her contribution toward
ending the family curse.
Maybe in saving this family, she’d help to save her own.
“What is it?” Jake asked. “Why the strange expression?”
Kat smiled at him, the first from-the-heart, from- the-soul smile she’d ever given him. “Jake Kimball. I think I’m glad I married you.”
He gave her a long stare, then blinked twice. “I think I’m glad to hear that.”
She laughed, grabbed for his fishing pole, then tossed his line in the water. Almost immediately, she caught another fish. Her laughter rang out over the lake as she held up the fish with a flourish. “He’s the biggest I win.”
Jake’s eyes took on that heavy-lidded look she’d come to know so well. He muttered an oath as he dropped the oars into the water and began to pull. The boat glided forward.
Kat tilted her face up to the sun, closed her eyes and let the warmth sink into her bones. She stretched sensuously, inhaled a deep breath and smelled honeysuckle on the air. Eventually she wondered why the boat had yet to reach the dock, and she opened her eyes. Her brow wrinkled when she realized Jake had rowed them in circles. “Jake, is something wrong?”
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not time to return to the lodge yet.”
She waited a moment for him to say something else, something that made sense. “Why not?”
“Because!” He shot her an exasperated glare. “Eating Italian takes time.”
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
“I know, but I don’t want to spoil…oh, to hell with it.” Jake yanked the oars from the water once again, stood, rocking the boat, then shocked Kat by diving over the side.
The splash from his entry landed on the front of her dress. Kat sat frustrated and fuming, plucking the wet cloth away from her bodice, waiting for him to surface.
Jake’s head broke the surface and he swam a half dozen strokes away from the boat, then a half dozen back toward it. Kat called, “Jake Kimball!”
He pulled up, treaded water and looked at her. “Yeah?”
“You splashed me!”
His gaze slid over her like melted caramel. “I can see that.”
“Why in heaven’s name did you jump out of the boat?”
“Actually, I dove rather than jumped, and I did it because I thought the water would be colder.” His stare fastened on her bodice. “It’s not nearly cold enough. Kat? Can you swim?”
“Yes. Of course. I…” Jake swam beside the rowboat. His eyes gleamed with purpose and that sexual heat she’d come to recognize so well. When he reached up for the side of the boat, she warned, “Oh, no you don’t.”
“Just to take the edge off, honey. C’mon.” The boat tipped. Kat’s balance teetered.
“Come play with me.”
CHAPTER TEN
ON THE FIFTH DAY of his honeymoon, Jake Kimball whistled as he approached Paradise Lodge. Leading two horses, saddled and ready for the upcoming ride, he had a spring in his step and a song in his heart. A particularly bawdy song. Jake Kimball was a happy, satisfied man. He passed his nights feasting from a sensual banquet and spent his days in carefree harmony with his interesting, intelligent, active bride.
Kat appeared to be enjoying her honeymoon, too. Once she made it past her initial surprise during their Italian evening, she’d fallen right in with his adventures. His wife had a talent for drama, and she thoroughly enjoyed role-playing. That bit of information caused him to make small adjustments to their nighttime travelogues.
Something had changed with Kat the day of their fishing trip. Her attitude toward him had softened. Her acceptance of him had strengthened. Most important that dull light in her eyes at the finish of their lovemaking had mostly disappeared.
Jake thought Kat was beginning to like him.
He suspected she was adjusting to the notion of having children in her life again, too. She certainly talked about his nieces and nephew often enough. Every day she brought them into the conversation, asking him questions about them, soliciting stories of his interaction with them, requesting his advice regarding potential problems she might encounter while acting as their mother. Jake took her interest as a positive sign.
He responded to her talk about Penny’s babies by asking Kat about her Susie, and he’d been pleasantly surprised at the way she’d opened up about her daughter. The grief still haunted her eyes and shimmered in her voice, but she managed to laugh a time or two when talking about her child. She always looked surprised when it happened. Jake always leaned over and kissed her.
He was in the mood to have her mouth again. She’d been eating a strawberry last time he saw her. He wondered if he would taste it in her kiss. Looking up toward the open window he called, “Kat? You ready?”
Her face appeared. “Sorry, I was reading and lost track of time. Give me ten minutes?”
“Women,” he grumbled up at her. She flashed him a smile, then ducked back inside. “God love ‘em.”
Jake hitched the horses to a nearby post, then leaned against the trunk of an oak tree and settled down to wait.
Yep, he had it good. He couldn’t recall another span of time he’d enjoyed so much. Too bad their honeymoon had to end.
Two more days. Only two more nights. Damn.
On the bright side, he wouldn’t leave for Tibet right away. Just because they returned to Chatham Park didn’t mean they couldn’t continue their trips around the world. He had locks on the bedroom door. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had locks on most of the doors. Instead of bringing the collections to them, they could go to the collections. Hmm, maybe they’d try the jewel room. What a sight she’d be, bedecked from head to toe in emeralds and gold and nothing else.
She walked out of Paradise Lodge wearing a riding habit that had arrived with her wardrobe from London. She carried a picnic basket and looked so lovely that, were the work crew not scheduled to arrive soon, he’d have taken her then and there.
They passed an enjoyable afternoon at the ruins, and it wasn’t until they’d ridden to within sight of Paradise that Kat asked about that night’s menu. Since he could spy the billowing white silk of the tent beyond the lodge’s rooftop, he decided to begin the play immediately. “It is not your concern, woman.”
Kat reined in her horse. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not a concubine’s place to question her master.”
“A what?” Her eyes went wide, then abruptly narrowed. “Her what!”
Jake relished the word. “Master.”
Kat’s eyes flashed. Her chin came out. He could see her tongue sharpening with sarcastic words. If Jake wasn’t careful here, he could ruin the entire evening.
So he subtly played upon her sense of adventure. “Tonight, when the moon rises above the desert sands, and the eastern star kisses the sky, you will come to me, and I will show you the pleasures of an Arabian night.”
Then, with the fluent move of a master horseman, he turned his horse around and galloped off across the fields, leaving Kat to worry and wonder.
Damn, but he enjoyed being married.
“THE MAN is rude,” Kat grumbled, tugging her bonnet strings as she climbed the stairs to her room “A bounder. Master, hah! He’s a barbarian. If he thinks for one minute I’m going to play slave to his sultan, well…” Whatever would make him think she’d find such demeaning nonsense intriguing? Desert sands. Arabian nights. In a tent!
Honestly.
She may have enjoyed their “trips” to Venice and Paris and Hawaii, but it was one thing to imagine oneself sipping Chianti at a trattoria along the winding canals of Venice or holding hands with a lover while walking beside the Seine. Pretending to be ravished by a desert sheik was something else entirely. Kat was not a submissive woman. McBride women didn’t do submissive. She doubted she could even fake it.
She walked into the room and tossed her hat onto the bed she’d yet to use during her visit to Paradise Lodge. “Tonight might be the ni—” Colorful scraps of silk lay f
olded at the foot of her bed. “Oh.”
Kat was too much a female not to investigate, and the first thing that caught her attention was the amazing piece of jewelry lying atop the pile of emerald silk. It was a diadem of white gold, adorned with a teardrop- shaped emerald. Had the item been from any other man, she’d have figured the jewel as paste, simply part of a costume. From Jake, the heir of the world’s greatest collector, she knew the gem was real. “Typical man. Trying to buy me off with jewelry.”
Almost against her will, Kat lifted the headband off the bed and carried it over to the dressing table. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try it on. She smoothed back her hair, then gazed into a mirror as she placed the diadem on her head. The emerald teardrop rested at the middle of her forehead.
A swift, strong sense of the exotic engulfed Kat. Her gaze drifted back to the bed. “Leave it alone, Kat,” she told herself. “This isn’t you.”
Submissive, my Texas-born foot.
She could all but hear the echo of her grandmother’s voice in her mind. “Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud, Katrina. Be bold.”
Bold. Kat’s teeth nibbled at her lower Up. Cautiously, she reached out and lifted the first item from the pile. After a moment’s study, she realized the linked metal chains as wide as her hand were fashioned into a belt. Dozens of filmy scarves in a rainbow of colors hung through loops at the bottom of the belt. It was a skirt, a skirt made of scarves. Free hanging scarves that would shift with every movement, revealing what lay beneath them.
“For heaven’s sake.” Kat blew out a tremulous breath.
The next garment on the bed was made of emerald- colored silk and trimmed in silver braid. The soft, transparent band with two thin straps was obviously meant to cover her breasts, but she doubted it contained enough fabric to do the trick.
Beneath the breast band she found a matching bolero-style jacket that would do little more than cover her shoulders. Next she found a small square veil, and below that, two pairs of bronze finger cymbals and a collection of bangle bracelets. Kat’s fingers itched to try out the cymbals, but she made herself back away. She took off the diadem and dropped it beside the costume. “No. I’ll not play a slave for the man. For any man. I won’t do it.”
Her Scoundrel, Bad Luck Wedding #7 (Bad Luck Brides trilogy book two) Page 18
