Ryder's Wife

by Sharon Sala

  Casey’s face smiled back up at him from the page, taunting him in a way he could not accept He let go of his rage, giving hate full rein, and began to consider the wisdom of what he’d just said.

  He knew people who would do very dirty deeds for very little money, which was exactly what Lash Marlow had. But if his scheme worked, when he was through, he would be the one in the dough, and that sharecropper’s granddaughter would be sorry she’d thumbed her nose in a Marlow’s face.

  * * *

  “Oh, my.”

  Casey’s quiet remark got Ryder’s attention. In the act of dressing for the day, he came out of the bedroom in nothing but his blue jeans. Casey was standing by the kitchen table, her morning cup of coffee forgotten as she stared at the headlines in disbelief.

  “Ruban Heir Saved by Traffic Jam”

  “How do they find these things out so fast?”

  Ryder put his arms around her, reading over her shoulder as he cuddled her. When he saw the headline, he sighed. Because of who she was, she would always be news.

  “It doesn’t matter. As long as they leave you alone, they can print your favorite recipe for toast for all I care.”

  She dropped the paper on the table and leaned against him. “I don’t have a recipe for toast. I can’t cook. Remember?”

  He grinned. “Then you have nothing to worry about, right?”

  She laughed and turned in his arms. “So it would seem.” His eyes darkened as he cupped her hips and pulled her close, letting her feel what was on his mind.

  Her robe slipped open, revealing the clean bare lines of her body beneath. Ryder groaned and lowered his head, razing the tender skin on her neck with a series of nips and kisses that left her trembling for more than this sensual tease.

  Casey shivered. “Make love to me.”

  With a flip of his wrist, her robe fell to the floor at his feet. He reached out, tracing the shape of her breast with the tip of his finger, then encircling her waist with his hands, holding her fast—wishing he could hold on forever.

  “You are so beautiful, Casey Dee.”

  Her head lolled as his hands began to work their magic.

  Skin tingled. Nerves tensed. Muscles coiled.

  He lowered his mouth, trapping her lips and swallowing her sigh.

  Heat built.

  When his hand dipped between her thighs, she groaned.

  Honey flowed.

  She reached for his zipper, then for him, needing him—guiding him—to her—in her.

  It happened fast. One minute she was standing, the next she was on the cabinet with Ryder between her legs. “Buckle up,” he whispered.

  Casey wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. It felt as if everything inside of her was fighting to get out. Her heart was pounding against her chest. Her blood was racing through her veins. That sweet, sweet heat was building in her belly and she wanted the release. Clutching at him as hard as she could, she buried her face against his shoulder.

  “Oh, Ryder, please now.”

  He began to surge against her in a hard, even rhythm. Over and over. Minute upon minute. Rocking. Hammering. Driving toward pleasure. Too close to hold back.

  Casey’s senses were swimming. There was nothing upon which she could focus except him inside her. And suddenly gravity shifted and she lost her sense of balance. Grabbing him tighter, she arched toward a thrust, crying aloud. “Ryder…Ryder…I’m coming undone.”

  Sweat ran down the middle of his back as she held him, encompassed him, pulling him deeper and deeper toward total release. He shifted his hands from her back to her hips—pulling her forward—moving faster. His voice was harsh, his words low and thick with oncoming passion.

  “Then let it happen. I’m coming with you.”

  One cry broke the silence, then another, deeper and more prolonged, followed by soft, shaken sobs and gentle words of praise.

  A short time later, Ryder picked up his wife and carried her out of the room. The newspaper that had sparked the mood lay forgotten on the floor. Had Casey seen it again, she would now have disputed the claim. The traffic jam wasn’t the first thing to save her life. It was the man she’d found in the flatlands down at Sonny’s Bar.

  CHAPTER 12

  “This is all I have to go on. See what you can come up with. Oh, and I want this kept confidential, understand?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Justice. Of course.”

  Casey hung up the phone then swiveled her chair until she was gazing out the office windows. Outside, sunshine beamed down on Ruban Crossing, sweltering the inhabitants with a humidity that left everyone limp and weary. A flock of seagulls swooped past her vision, then disappeared around the corner of the building. On their way to the river—on their way to someplace cool.

  She told herself what she’d done was for the best, and that no matter what her investigator found out about Ryder, she would love him just the same. But in the following weeks since they’d first made love, she sensed he was holding something back and it made her nervous. What if the revelation of his secrets brought an end to their relationship? She closed her eyes and said a small, quiet prayer. That just couldn’t happen. She couldn’t give him up. Not when he’d become the most important thing in her life.

  The intercom buzzed. She turned back to her desk.

  “Yes?”

  “Libertine Delacroix on line two for you.”

  Casey picked up the phone. “Libby, it’s been a long time!” “Yes, darlin’, way too long,” Libertine said. “I would have called about this sooner, but I thought that with Delaney goin’ ‘an dyin’ on us like he did, and then you gettin’ married and all, well—I just thought I’d give everythin’ time to settle.”

  Casey grinned. Libertine Delacroix’s southern drawl was too thick to be believed, especially when Casey knew for certain that Libertine had been born and raised in Utah. The only thing south about her upbringing had been the window over her bed. However, after marrying Winston Delacroix and moving to their family home outside of Jackson, Mississippi, Libertine’s speech had become as rich as southern fried chicken.

  “How is that darlin’ husband of yours, anyway?” Libertine asked.

  An image of Ryder’s face above hers as he slid into her body flashed through Casey’s mind. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, suddenly weak with longing.

  “Why, he’s just fine. Thank you for asking,” Casey said.

  “Good. I’m havin’ a little party Saturday night. I want you two to come. You’ll be the guests of honor, of course.”

  Casey opened her eyes and sat up straight. Libertine had never had a little party in her life.

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “But what do you mean by little?”

  “Oh, no more than forty or fifty. It’ll be fun! Come in costume of course, and be prepared to be showered with belated wedding gifts as well.”

  Casey rolled her eyes. Good grief. A sit-down, costume party, wedding shower dinner? Only Libertine would attempt to pull off such a stunt.

  “Thank you, Libby, Ryder and I will be looking forward to it.”

  Libertine giggled. “I do declare. I hear he’s just the handsomest thing. Leave it up to you to pull the coup of the decade. I wouldn’t have had the nerve, you know—goin’ down in the Delta like that and callin’ Delaney’s bluff. Oh well, see you Saturday night, sugar. Eightish—costumes—prepare to have fun!”

  Casey winced as Libertine disconnected. Lord have mercy! Costumes. She hadn’t been able to get him in a chauffeur’s uniform. What was he going to say about this?

  * * *

  A dragonfly darted past Casey’s nose as she leaned on the fender of the Lincoln, watching while Ryder poured oil into the engine. Still in her work clothes, she was careful not to get grime on her suit. It was an original and one of her favorites.

  Ryder didn’t seem to have the same set of worries. He was minus a shirt, minus his hat, and as of moments ago when she’d unloaded the news about Lib
ertine’s call, minus his good humor.

  “So, you’re going to put me on parade. I was wondering when this might happen.”

  Casey winced. “That’s not fair. I’m not the one hosting this party, therefore I am not the one putting you anywhere. Libertine Delacroix is famous for her parties. She was also one of my mother’s closest friends—at least. that’s what Tilly says.”

  Ryder tossed the empty oil can into the trash and wiped his hands. “Step back,” he ordered, and slammed the hood shut with a resounding thump.

  Casey followed him into the garage. “Her food is always fabulous. She has the best chef in the county, you know.”

  “Can’t be better than Tilly’s,” he said shortly.

  “They’re giving us a belated wedding shower. I didn’t know how to say no.”

  Ryder turned, and there was a light in his eyes she recognized all too well. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You pretty much said a big loud no to the terms of your grandfather’s will.”

  She glared. “That’s different.”

  He grinned.

  “We’re to go in costume.”

  The grin slid off of his face. “Like hell.”

  Casey groaned. “Ryder, please. Don’t be difficult about this. I love you madly. You can’t blame me for wanting all of my acquaintances to meet you.”

  “Yeah, right, and I’m supposed to remember these people the next time I see them when I’ve been introduced to them in costumes? Let’s see, what would I say? Oh, I know. You were the pirate, right? And you—weren’t you that Playboy Bunny?”

  She grinned. “I can heartily assure you that there will not be a single Playboy Bunny present.”

  He yanked his shirt from a hook and pulled it on with a jerk. “Well hell, you know that refusing you is impossible. However…just remember you’re going to owe me, big time.”

  Casey threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted as he nuzzled the spot just below her right ear. “You’re very welcome.”

  Before their play went beyond a point of no return, Tilly stepped out the back door. “Casey, honey, telephone call for you.”

  Casey waved to let Tilly know that she’d heard, then turned back to Ryder. “So, what kind of costume do you want to wear?”

  He cursed beneath his breath.

  “Ryder, you promised.”

  “You don’t worry about what I’ll wear,” he muttered. “I said I’d go, so I’ll dress the part.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but knowing Ryder, it was the best she was going to get.

  “Want to go out to dinner?” she asked.

  “Want to go to Smoky Joe’s?”

  Casey groaned. She knew when she’d been had. “It’s not alligator night.”

  He grinned. “I don’t care. I have a hankering to see someone else’s tail get slapped in the mud besides mine.”

  She made a face and then ran for the phone.

  “Don’t run in those damned heels,” he yelled, but it was too late. She’d already done it. He frowned. One of these days she was going to break her leg pulling a stunt like that.

  * * *

  Casey leaned over the deck and waved at Miles and Erica as they came out of the main house. Erica’s white antebellum dress floated just above the ground, billowing out around her and swaying with every step that she took. Miles looked dashing in black and quite reminiscent of a riverboat gambler. Eudora was sick with a cold and had declined the invitation with no small amount of regret. But she couldn’t show up at a party with a box of tissues beneath her arm, no matter what costume she might wear. It just wasn’t done.

  “Hurry up!” Miles shouted, pointing toward a long white limousine pulling up in the driveway. “The limo’s here.”

  “I’ll be right down!” she called, and ran back into the apartment, closing and locking the patio door behind her.

  Without Ryder, the apartment seemed too large and empty. He’d been gone for more than two hours, and although he called over an hour ago, claiming his costume had been undergoing alterations, he still wasn’t back.

  “Oh, Ryder, if you let me down at this late date, I’ll never forgive you,” she muttered, as she made a last-minute check through the apartment, making sure she had everything she’d intended to take.

  She paused before the mirror then turned, glancing over her shoulder, making sure her own costume was in place, then smiling in satisfaction at the fluffy, white bunny tail right in the middle of her backside. She turned, ignoring the plunge of fabric barely covering her breasts and readjusted her long white ears. The black fishnet stockings made her legs look sexy, and her three-inch heels completed the picture. Yes, she made a darn good Playboy Bunny, even if she did think so herself.

  As she started down the stairs to the waiting limo, she made a bet with herself. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, Ryder will be driving up. When her foot hit the last one she looked up. The Lincoln was nowhere in sight.

  “Damn and double damn,” she mumbled, and started across the courtyard. Okay, by the time I get to the limo, he’ll be home.

  When she drew even with the limousine’s back bumper, she lifted her head to gaze down the long empty driveway. Her expression fell. She couldn’t believe it. He’d actually let her down. What was she going to say to Libertine when they arrived?

  The driver hurried around the car to where she was standing, then opened the door.

  “Watch your ears—and your tail, darlin’. Wouldn’t want either one of them to fall off before you got the chance to shine.”

  She looked up, then gasped. “Ryder!”

  “Your ride awaits. Now don’t tell me you’re about to change your mind after I went to all this trouble.”

  She blinked. It was him. Resplendent in a dark, double-breasted chauffeur’s uniform with more gold braid and buttons than an admiral might wear.

  He tipped his cap and held the door ajar. “Ma’am?”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “You are going to steal the show.”

  He held her close, patting at the fluff of her tail. “I’d a whole lot rather steal me a rabbit.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Miles grumbled from inside the car. “Let’s get a move on or we’re going to be late.”

  Casey quickly took her seat, quite out of place beside a riverboat gambler and an old-fashioned southern belle.

  Erica glared. Leave it up to Casey. “I swear, little sister, whatever you do tonight, don’t bend over. You’ll positively spill out of that disreputable thing you are wearing.”

  Miles grinned, for once taking Casey’s side instead of his twin’s. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Erica. Even if she is our sister, she looks rather stunning.”

  Erica sniffed. “You would say that. After all, you’re just a man.”

  The glass door slid open behind Casey’s head. Ryder’s voice drifted out into the uneasy silence. “Buckle up.”

  “Have mercy,” Erica shrieked, and grabbed for a seat belt as the limo took off, leaving a black streak of rubber to show where it had been.

  Miles needed no warning. He was already strapped and waiting for takeoff when the limo accelerated. He’d ridden with this man before.

  Casey laughed aloud, then blew Ryder a kiss as he turned onto the highway. Tonight was just about perfect.

  * * *

  Of the guests who’d come in full costume to Libertine’s party, nine were in Rebel gray. Of those nine, only Lash Marlow wore the uniform of a southern general, and he wore it with pride. His great-great-grandfather Marlow had been a general during the War of Northern Aggression. It seemed fitting that he carry out the tradition, if only for the night.

  But his pride in the past died a humiliating death when the Ruban party arrived. His gaze went past Miles and Erica Dunn. They were Rubans by marriage only. In the grand scheme of things, and blood being thicker than water, it was Casey who
counted. But when he saw her and then the man at her side, it was all he could do to stay quiet. How dare she flaunt what she’d done to him?

  Libertine Delacroix, who for tonight had dressed as Lady Liberty, was speechless for all of twenty seconds when she saw them, and then broke into peals of laughter.

  “Casey, darlin’, I should have known you’d outshine us all. And just look at this man on your arm! Introduce me this instant, you hear?”

  Casey grinned. “Libby, this is my husband, Ryder Justice. Ryder, my very dear friend, Libertine Delacroix.”

  Libertine held out her hand. Ryder took it, then lifted it to his lips. “I’m real partial to liberated women, Mrs. Delacroix. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Libertine giggled at his play of words on her costume and name. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” she drawled, then slipped her hand beneath his elbow. “Come along, you two. There’s a ton of people who are just dyin’ to meet you.”

  “I’ll just bet,” he muttered beneath his breath.

  Casey pinched his arm. He looked down and winked at her.

  “You promised to be nice,” she warned.

  “No, I didn’t. I just promised to come.”

  She laughed at the sparkle in his eyes. Dear Lord, but she loved this man, so much that sometimes it scared her. She threaded her fingers through his, content for tonight to follow his lead.

  * * *

  An oblong silver tray glittered beneath the lights of the chandelier in the great hall as the wedding gifts were unwrapped before the guests. Crystal sparkled, fine china gleamed. Lash stood among the crowd, oohing and aahing along with them as each new piece was put up on display, and all the while, the idea he’d been fostering took deeper root in his mind.

  Damn her—and him. He stared at the tall man in the chauffeur’s uniform and resented him for not being ashamed. How can he hold his head high? By wearing that ridiculous costume, he’d all but announced to the world that he was nothing but hired help. Yet when Ryder casually tucked a wayward curl on Casey’s forehead back beneath the rabbit ears she was wearing, Lash’s stomach rolled. The look she gave him made gorge rise in his throat. Damn her to hell. She never looked at me like that. And that hurt, more than he was able to admit.