But first, he had to prove it. Not an easy task.
With a ragged spin, he stopped his relentless pacing to lean against the ship’s rail. He read the sky and jagged coastline with an ease born of years at sea. If the storm brewing angrily on the horizon held off, they would reach the Chesapeake by late tomorrow afternoon. Until then, he would wait, worry, and pray he wasn’t too late.
God, but he hated to wait!
Spinning on his heel, Drake pushed away from the rail and again began pacing the spray-slickened deck. His agitated strides earned him a grunt of aggravation from his friend. His tight denims, thick, bleached chambray shirt, bright red bandanna, and low-riding hat earned him looks of perplexity from the other strolling passengers. The black leather gunbelt strapped to a muscular thigh earned him looks of respect bordering on fear.
He barely glanced up when he heard his name mentioned, with not a little disdain, by an elderly couple strolling by. He was too lost in his thoughts to much care about their shocked reaction, although at another time he would probably have found their suddenly white faces comical.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would see Hope again. His heart sang with the thought and his calloused palms began to sweat. Now that Charles and Angelique had been taken care of, he was finally free to do something about setting his life in order.
Funny, but in his wildest dreams, he would never have imagined that this was the way he would go about it. Nor had he ever planned on centering his life, and his future, around a single, stubborn woman.
Things change, Drake thought as his gaze wandered back to the horizon. The rain-heavy clouds there reminded him of a pair of stormy, dark-brown eyes. Hope’s eyes, lids thick with slaked passion.
Tomorrow seemed like a lifetime away.
Chapter 22
Hope knelt beside the perfectly groomed grave. Her trembling fingers absently traced her mother’s name, and she noticed how weathered the delicate carving had become against the chipped, white marble tombstone.
A light breeze rustled sap-scented air, disturbing the chestnut hair that waved down her back to the cinched waist of her new, mint-green dress. She barely noticed. Her thoughts were busy drifting over the time spent lazily in Virginia.
One week had slipped past, easing its way into two. What a coward she was! Her days were spent fishing in the early morning hours with Luke, her afternoons spent cooking meals and keeping house. The early evening hours were reserved for long walks with her father amongst their vast Virginia fields. Hand in hand she and Bart would stroll, in tune with the sun as it stroked a fiery palette of color over the horizon, the vibrant shadows reflecting on the lush, promising fields that stretched at their feet.
At times, he talked about Emma, her mother, and Hope came slowly to realize how deeply her father’s feelings ran when it came to the fires that had nearly destroyed their lives. It was a side that Bart Bennett had never before revealed.
He had loved and lost, just as his daughter had. And though both took special care never to mention Drake Frazier’s name, both knew they now had a common, if unspoken, bond.
Bentley had left the week before to keep her promise to her great-nephew and talk to his fiancée. “Don’t know what good it’ll do, but I’ve gotta try, I suppose,” she’d huffed, hoisting her tired body into the carriage with a promise to return for Hope soon. After a callous remark to Bart, she’d left.
Although Hope wished her friend luck and was sorry to see her go, she was glad to feel the tension in the Bennett household ease. Bart returned to his jovial, albeit tight-lipped self, and even their prized cow started giving milk again. Her father swore Old Nellie sensed that the “old prune’s finally gone.”
Hope sighed. She dropped her hand, pillowing it on top of her lap. The paper tucked snugly in the side pocket crinkled. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms grew moist when she thought of the newly arrived letter.
Her time was up. Bentley had written to tell her that she’d spoken with her great-nephew’s fiancée and, amazingly enough, had managed to work things out. Hope couldn’t say she was surprised. Bentley did have a way of convincing people of things they might not normally have believed. She could attest to that first hand. What did surprise her was that the great-nephew’s fiancée would be returning with them to Boston on a ship that was due to leave for the north on Friday. They were waiting for Hope at a hotel in Norfolk.
Friday! So soon!
Dry leaves crackled in the rhythmic pace of footsteps. Cupping a hand over her eyes to shield out the sun, she turned. A half-smile played on her lips when she saw Luke shuffling his feet as he waited for his sister to notice him.
“Pa said you’d be here,” he murmured, dropping himself to the ground by her side. His thick fingers plucked at the dead stalks of grass. “He ain’t happy you’re leaving.”
She sighed, raking her fingers through the bristly stalks. “I know. He lectured me for two hours last night, and half an hour this morning. Look, I know you don’t understand, no one does, but I have to go. I have to do this or I won’t be able to live with myself. The not knowing would kill me.”
“It’s Frazier again, isn’t it?”
She nodded, averting her gaze to the fields stretching lazily beneath the bluff. From this vantage point, she could see the house in mid-construction, and the fragile sprouts waving in the fields, even the path leading up the side of the hill. The water of a large lake to her right looked like a sheet of glass as it mirrored flickering rays of sunlight.
“Pa said it weren’t none a my business, that I should keep my big mouth shut,” he grinned childishly, and Hope’s heart swelled as she saw a bit of the Luke he had once been, “but I never did before and I ain’t—I’m not gonna start now.” His dark eyes grew serious as he took her cool hand into his much bigger, much warmer one. “Do you love him, Hope? Do you really love him?”
“More than anything,” she whispered hoarsely. She sighed, as though she’d just confessed to committing a hideous crime.
Luke nodded as he released her fingers and clasped his big hands in his lap. “Yeah, I thought so, since Pa won’t talk about it. Back in Thirsty, he kept saying the guy was bad news but that we needed him, so humor him, whatever that meant. He said that some morning we’d wake up and Frazier’d be gone. I don’t know, guess I always thought he was okay. And Old Joe was leery, but I think deep down he liked the gunslinger. He said Frazier ain’t the kind of man Pa says he is, that life dealt him a dirty hand and that’s why he’s so hard. Is it? Is that why he acts the way he does, Hope, because he’s had it so hard?”
“I wish I knew,” she replied with a sarcastic chuckle. “A person only knows as much about Drake Frazier as Drake Frazier wants them to know. He’s not open the way you and I are with each other. He keeps things to himself a lot.”
“But you spent an awful lot of time alone with him, you should know him pretty good by now.”
She shrugged, pushing the hair from her brow. “As good as anyone, I guess, but still not good. Not as good as I’d like to, anyway.”
“But you still love him?”
“God knows I shouldn’t, but yes, I still love him.” Luke opened his mouth to ask another, probably more intimate, question. She silenced him by slashing a finger over his lips. “Don’t ask me why, Luke, because I can’t even explain it to myself. I’ve tried, but I can’t. All I know is that this last month was sheer hell. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lost, so empty in my entire life.” She smiled at him. “Except for when I thought all of you were dead.”
“And Frazier? How does he feel? Does he love you, too?”
“I think the lady should ask me that question herself.”
Hope gasped. The grittily familiar voice made her head snap up. The ripped out stalks of grass fluttered from her hand, unnoticed, as her gaze shot over her shoulder. Were it not for her brother’s look of surprise, she would have passed the vision off as nothing more than a pleasantly haunting mirage.
D
rake Frazier had cleared the gate and was closing the distance between them in quick, sure strides that she could feel vibrating through the ground beneath her palm. The tight-fitting denims outlined every sinewy muscle in his firm thighs and hips, and her gaze feasted on the sight. The loosened buttons at his collar displayed a curling vee of enticingly thick hair as it powdered the firm chest below the light blue bandanna. Her hands itched as she remembered the feel of that silky pelt under her fingertips. As always, the cracked leather hat rode low on his brow, and Hope ached to reach out and smooth away the golden strands that were scattered over his forehead.
She was on her feet in an instant, the minty silk billowing around her suddenly weak ankles. Her knees, traitors that they were, were trembling almost as violently as her hands. Her breathing was deep and ragged, her palms moist with nervous perspiration. Her eyes were round, shimmering with disbelief and desire.
Drake stopped a handsbreadth away, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, caressing her flesh as though the impediments of mint green silk and white cotton no longer existed. His hand reached up to stroke her cheek, but hesitated over the smooth, cool skin. It stayed poised in midair for a split second before dropping back to his hip.
The sea-green gaze, cast in enticing shadows, raked her body, as though trying to commit every delicate curve, every line, to memory.
“Well?” he said finally, his voice husky with pent-up emotion. “Are you going to ask me, sunshine?”
His warm, sweet breath kissed her upturned cheek and her breath lodged in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, words refused to form. She stopped trying as her gaze riveted itself to the tiny lines shooting away from those piercing eyes. She thought she had never seen anything quite so wonderful, or so heady!
“Hope, he’s talking to you, Hope?” Luke gently nudged his sister’s ribs with his elbow, but she didn’t seem to notice. He tried again as his gaze flickered between the two. As far as they were concerned, he might not have existed. “She’s real glad to see you, Frazier. Ain’t that right, Hope? Hoo-oope?” He jabbed her again.
Hope managed a fleeting nod, her eyes never leaving Drake. How long had he been standing at the gate? How much had he heard? She gulped.
Grudgingly, Drake yanked his gaze from Hope, averting his attention to a beaming Luke. The smile that came to his lips was immediate. “How’ve you been, Luke?” He reached out with one hand and shook the big man’s hand, using the other to clap Luke heartily on the shoulder. Relief mixed with affection sparked in his eyes.
Hope didn’t hear her brother’s answer over the wild pounding of her heart. The two men seemed to talk for hours, although in reality it was only a few short minutes. Before she knew what he was about, Luke pumped Drake’s hand again, welcomed him whole-heartedly to Virginia, gave him a slap on the back that would have landed a lesser man on his knees, then left the tiny cemetery.
Birds chirped high in the rustling branches and the rat-a-tat sound of a hammer beating a nailhead echoed up the hill, keeping perfect time with the wild pounding of Hope’s heart. Suddenly, she was excruciatingly aware of just how alone her brother’s abrupt departure left them. Their solitude was reflected in Drake’s darkened glance.
“Come here often?” he asked, nodding to the grave by her feet. His gaze ran over the weathered inscription before returning to Hope. Regret lit his eyes.
“I—yes. Every day if I can.” Her voice was weak, but outwardly calm, a stark contrast to the emotions churning within. She buried her hands in the pocket of her skirt and, surrendering to a desperate need for small talk, voiced the first question that sprang to mind. She could have bitten off her tongue! “What are you doing here, gunslinger? You’re supposed to be in Boston, ruining your brother and—” romancing his wife, she finished silently. Flushing hotly, she looked away.
The memory of her own mouth, swollen from his brother's harsh kisses, prompted Drake to reach up and run the tip of his thumb across her full lower lip. A tightening started in his thighs, spread through his loins, and pooled in his gut. “Charles won’t be bothering us again,” he said. “I saw to that before I left.”
She shivered, sucking in a ragged breath. Her senses were beginning to scatter like dry leaved in the wind and her voice weakened until it was no stronger than a whisper. “And Angelique?”
Instinctively, her gaze slipped past his broad shoulder. Hope half-expected to see the calculating witch awaiting her lover at the wrought iron gate, a feline smile of satisfaction curling her lips. Instead, there was only the towering white oak, and the place where ground met sky before arching back down the hillside.
“She isn’t here, sunshine.”
“Oh.” Whatever else she was about to say was lost as Drake surrendered to undeniable temptation. Gathering her into his arms, he gently lowered his lips to hers.
His mouth was insistent, probing, demanding a response that Hope had no choice but to give. And she responded to their bodies’ urgent craving with a willingness that astounded him.
Her hands inched up, encircling his neck, teasing the silky golden curls that tickled her fingertips. With a husky groan, she pulled him closer, willing herself to melt her softness into his firmly worked chest. Insistently, she arched against him. The spicy scent of leather and sweat surrounded her as she opened beneath his searching tongue.
His hands, encircling the indentation of her waist, pulled her closer. Their hips meshed and a stifled moan escaped his suddenly parched throat. He didn’t know how much more of this sweet torture he could stand, yet at the same time, he was afraid a more outright advance would scare her away. He satisfied himself with the sensuous thrust and retreat of her velvety tongue, and, holding his desire firmly in check, launched his own hot pursuit of that kind.
Then his teeth nibbled at her full lower lip, causing a surge of breathless anticipation to tingle up her spine. Hope's heart sang with desire as she slipped her hands down his upper arms, reveling in the feel of hard muscles bunching beneath her palm. The stubble-coated jaw grazed her cheek as he trailed kisses to the curl of her ear. She tilted her chin up and to the right, basking in the familiar, bristly sensation of his whiskers scraping against her skin. It was a feeling she had thought she would never experience again.
“Come back to Boston with me,” he whispered throatily, his breath in her ear.
“You should have waited a few weeks, gunslinger,” she sighed through softly parted lips. “That’s exactly where I was heading. I—I have another job offer for you.”
His tongue lingered over the small shell of her ear, tasting, teasing. Slowly, her words sank into his passion-fogged brain. He lifted his head, capturing her gaze. He looked deeply into those large, enticing brown eyes and tried to assess the meaning behind her words. A wave of guilt washed over him. “I should explain about that.” He shifted self-consciously. “I guess there are a lot of things I should explain to you.”
Hope let him pull back, but refused to let him go. Her dark eyes shimmered with confusion, and her voice cracked. “You can start by telling me what the hell you were doing with Angelique. The way you acted in Boston, I half expected the two of you to kill off Charles, then run off and elope. Instead, you show up here, saying you left her behind! I want to understand, Drake, really I do. But you’re not making sense! Nothing you’ve ever done makes any sense to me.”
Drake disengaged her hands from his arms as his gaze scanned their surroundings. A scowl furrowed his golden brow as his work-roughened palm smoothed the hair from her cheek. With a ragged sigh, he entwined his fingers in hers and pulled her toward the gate. “I’ll explain—I owe you that much—but not here. I’ve never been able to talk well in cemeteries.”
“Where are we going?” Hope insisted, panting as she struggled to keep up with his long, determined strides. By the time they cleared the gate, she was out of breath. By the time they reached the bottom of the hill, her lungs felt like they were about to explode. She didn’t complain. The feel of
his strong fingers wrapped around her hand felt wonderful, more than making up for the discomfort.
Drake followed his ears. He dragged Hope through the dense covering of maple and oak, toward the sound of gurgling water. In minutes they broke through the trees and emerged in a lush clearing beside the bank of a river that, farther down, washed into the lake stretching lazily beside the house. A waterfall splashed over a jagged cliff of rocks to their right, and rays of sunlight played over the dappled surface of water that gurgled and twisted away.
How right that he would choose this particular spot, at this particular moment, Hope thought.
“I haven’t been here in years,” she sighed in wonder, as she flopped to the ground, panting to catch her breath.
He lowered himself beside her, so near their thighs were touching. The contact, Hope found, was most distracting. She shifted self-consciously, arranging the now-grass-stained skirt around her legs and ankles. When he made no response, she elaborated, “I used to come here when I was a girl. Luke didn’t know where to find me, and my parents didn’t try. It gave me time to be alone. Time to think. I always thought of it as my special place. I’m surprised you were able to find it.”
“We can go somewhere else if you’d rather,” he offered softly. The gesture was hollow. Drake was reluctant to leave a spot Hope so obviously cherished, thinking the breathtaking scenery might, in some small way, aid his cause. At this point, he’d welcome all the help he could get.
Hope shook her head, her gaze locking with his. She placed a restraining hand on his arm when he started to rise. “No, I want to stay here... with you. It feels right.” Her thoughts strayed to Angelique and her happiness faded abruptly. He’d left the witch behind, but to what purpose? So he could come here and explain why he preferred his former fiancée over herself? Why bother? Silence would serve the same purpose, and would be much less painful in the end.
Drake watched the emotions flickering openly in the velvet brown eyes. He knew what she was thinking. His heart tightened in response and his mind raced, searching for the perfect words to ease her worries. He wasn’t surprised to find there weren’t any. At least, none that came to mind.
California Caress Page 33
