by Lora Leigh
“As I love you, ma dear,” he replied, kissing her brow before she turned and left the room to make her way back to bed. “Sleep well.”
*
Jack stared at the piece of jewelry Joe still stared up at, remaining silent where he stood next to the bar, hidden in the shadows from where he’d watched and listened in interest.
Joe sighed, gave the torque a final look, then turned and headed for the doorway.
“Poor lass,” the old man said softly, obviously talking to himself. “Ah well, she’ll not be so upset if I were to sell it then, would she?”
Jack stared at the piece of jewelry and wondered why the thought of Joe having to sell it bothered him so damned much.
FOUR
The torque was no longer on the mantle where it had sat for most of her life. The dull gleam of gold, the comforting presence of it was gone. For as long as she could remember it had never been moved but to clean the case, until now.
“Father?” she questioned him as he sat before the fire with Jack. “Where’s the torque?”
She could only stare at where it had once sat, her heart struggling to beat, the blood pumping sluggishly in her veins as she tried to make sense of its absence.
“Well now, lass, Jack and I were discussin’ the price on it as Haverly cleans it up properly for him. I thought it time to let the past go, since we agree it’s no more than a pretty piece of jewelry…”
She turned slowly, staring at Jack, with an implacable expression as he sat in the chair before the fire with her father and tossed back the rest of his drink and rose to his feet.
“He’ll not be buying it. He’s no deservin’ of it.” The fury that shot through her didn’t just shock her and her father, but it seemed to surprise Jack as well.
His eyes narrowed on her, the blue hardening, growing cold.
“Undeserving of it?” he asked her then, his tone only faintly curious.
“Yer no’ but an alley cat,” she snapped. “Mr. Too-many-women-too-little-time,” she sneered. “That torque is not fer the likes of you, Jack Riley, and ye’ll not have it.”
It was hers. It was always meant to be hers. The legacy of it was all she had of hope for her future.
Jack bent and placed the glass on the small table next to the chair he’d been sitting in.
“The money will be transferred to your account this evening, Joe,” he stated. “I agree to the price as well as the terms. I’ll collect the piece from Haverly and be on my way. I thank you for your hospitality.” The look he shot Angel was cold, unemotional.
“No!” She grabbed his arm, the anger and hurt burning in her like a flame out of control. “What do ye need of the torque? Tis nothin’ to ye.”
His lips quirked mockingly. “Maybe I decided this alley cat deserved it,” he said softly. “The deal has been made. The torque is mine.”
Carefully, gently, he removed her hand from his arm and stepped back.
“Ye’ll no keep it.” She was shaking from the inside out, terrified, knowing she had lost the legacy she’d dreamed of for so long and had no idea how to stop it.
And just as she had before she’d learned to control her emotions, her temper was controlling her, making her rash, and she knew it.
“I always keep what I make mine, Angel,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find some use for it.”
The negligent shrug, the cruel words. They were more than she could bear.
“I’ll make sure ye no keep it, Mr. Riley,” she sneered. “On my oath I swear it to ye, one way or the other, I’ll have it back if I have tae steal it back.”
“Angel!” Shock filled her father’s voice. “Child…”
“Try something so stupid and the first thing I’ll do is paddle your ass,” Jack promised her. “Then, I promise, you’ll find a reason to regret it. No one steals from me and gets away with it. You don’t want to test me on that.”
“And ye’ll no scare me,” she yelled as he strode from the family room. “Damn you. Ye won’t have it…” Her voice broke as she tried to race after him, only to have her father catch her arm and pull her around.
“Angel?” Concern, regret, worry. They flashed across his expression as he reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek. “Lass, yer cryin’?”
“What have you done, Da?” she cried out, aware, so aware that she’d lost the torque her mother had so loved, a legacy of a thousand years passed from mother to daughter gone. “How could you do that? How could you sell the torque?” A sob tore from the depths of her soul, ragged and lost as she stared up at her father. “How could ye do this to me?”
“Tis but a pretty piece of jewelry,” he reminded her gently. “Remember your mother’s words, lass. Remember the conditions to attainin’ the torque. Twas by your own lips that ye lost it, and now, no matter my wishes, or the mistake I may ’ave made, it’s too late to call it back.”
The conditions to attaining it?
Her mother had warned her: She had to believe. She had to trust the torque to find the man whose soul was of the wolf. A man who would mate for life, and love beyond forever. She had to believe, or risk losing it forever.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Da, no.” She grabbed his arm, holding to him desperately. “Don’ do this. I beg ye, Da. Please…”
“Lass, the deal tis done,” he whispered, grief echoing in his voice, his eyes. “May God forgive me, the deal is done.”
She jerked her hands back from him.
The hell it was done. It wasn’t done, she wouldn’t allow it to be done.
“May God forgive both of us then,” she heard her own voice and would be shocked by it later, she thought distantly. “Because I vow to ye, Da, he’ll no’ keep it!”
She was the one who sounded like an animal. Enraged, perhaps irrational, but that torque twas hers. A thousand years of women who had known only happiness in marriage, who had found the man whose heart was like the wolf, whose love would see her through her life, always untainted, that was the legacy of it.
A girl could be forgiven for having doubts.
Just because she doubted didn’t mean she didn’t hope.
It didn’t mean she would allow the dreams of an old Druid, who’d wanted only happiness for his daughter and all her line, to be wasted on a man who knew naught of love, of loyalty.
He’d not have her torque.
Not without her, he wouldn’t …
*
Joe watched his daughter all but run from the family room, all that prissy schoolmarmishness stripped away by her fury, by her knowledge of what she was losing. And hadn’t her dear sweet mother been just like her?
Still, guilt, and even fear, squeezed at his heart. He’d promised his Meg he’d do what must be done when the time came. He’d vowed it. But had he known what it would do to his precious Angel, perhaps he would have tried to find another way first.
Jack was a good lad though. No matter what the girl tried, he’d not hurt her. Megan had sworn it to him, and she’d vowed to him that she had the second sight. That she had glimpses of their daughter’s future with the one she’d gift her torque to and it had been filled with many children and a long happy life.
Unlike his wee Megan who had succumbed to that horrible lung infection she’d contracted.
Their Angel and her wolf would live to see their grandchildren grow strong and true, and together they’d guide their daughter to the wolf awaiting her.
And even knowing that this was his Angel’s possible future, still, he worried.
There was a reason Megan had chosen to send their daughter to that fancy school and to teach her to control that temper that ran so deep, so hot.
Aye, there was a reason he worried now.
FIVE
Sometimes women just amazed him, Jack thought pensively as he hid in the shadows of his ranch house and watched the cute little bit of nothing slip through the opened living room window not more than hours after he’d returned to his Texas
home.
They shouldn’t, not anymore, but he had to admit he hadn’t really expected Angel to keep her very rash promise. Especially considering the fact that her daddy knew damned well what she would be getting herself into if he caught her.
Let your daughter even attempt to steal what’s mine, Manning, and I’ll show her a party she’ll never fucking forget.
Manning hadn’t appeared too worried. He’d actually seemed rather amused. But then, only God knew what that horse-trading, calculating son of a bitch knew, or was up to.
A smiled slowly curved his lips as Angel pulled herself into the house, her long black hair secured in a tight braid, her rounded little body poised cautiously like a doe in hunting season. Damn, she made his cock hard. Even during a spot of breaking and entering, pissing him off in the worst way, she turned him on.
Angel. Why anyone would name that bundle of carefully restrained fire and energy, Angel, he had no idea. One look into those dark-violet eyes, the first glimpse of wild, impetuous passion in her gaze, and it wasn’t angels you were thinking about. It was wild steamy sex. Hot, naked, sweaty bodies tangled together as feminine cries of tortured pleasure echoed around your ears. That’s what you thought about when you saw Angel. Hard, deep fucking. Watching her eyes widen, her body arch, the soft folds of her sweet little pussy stretching open as he impaled her with his steel-hard dick. That’s what hit his mind.
He stood silent, motionless as she looked around the dimly lit room, obviously searching for the lights. Lights that weren’t going to work for her. He had thrown the breaker the minute he realized someone was attempting to break in. God only knew who it could be. He had made several enemies over the past few years, none of whom he wanted to meet up with in a dark alley, or his normally well-lit home.
Now he only shook his head mentally. He was going to have to remind her that cat burglars did not turn on the lights. It was an arrest waiting to be made.
He may not have been expecting Angel, but damned if he didn’t know what to do with her now that she was here. Jack wasn’t a fool, and he knew she wasn’t averse to his touch. But how easily would she settle into the more perverted hungers he could unleash on her? It might not be easy for her, he thought in satisfaction, but she would do it. He knew her, and knew jail wasn’t an option for her.
He watched as she pushed her hand into the small satchel she wore at her hip. A second later he ducked as a beam of light swept across the room.
“Of course, he couldn’t just make it easy for me, now could he? Damn him.” Her voice was faintly accented, the soft Irish cadence stroking his flesh like a physical touch. He couldn’t wait to hear her screaming his name.
No, he wasn’t going to make anything easy for her. She had made certain of that the minute she attempted to steal from him. It didn’t matter that she considered what he held hers. He had bought it in a fair deal, and though it meant little to him, Jack kept what he considered his. It was a lesson he had learned during a particularly nasty episode years ago. When a man faced death, things changed inside him, whether he wanted them to or not.
He shifted carefully, staying hidden in the corner, moving a bit to the left as the beam of light came too close. His naturally blond hair was covered by a dark, woolen cap. Blond hair was like a beacon in the dark and he wanted to hide, not make a target of himself.
She checked the room carefully before proceeding through the rest of the house. Jack stood back quietly and let her have at it, knowing there wasn’t a chance she was going to find what she was looking for. He would let her look, though. Sooner or later she would have to head upstairs. When she did, he would make certain he was right behind her.
She wasn’t in Ireland anymore. This was Texas, his home turf, his hometown, and she was about to learn he wasn’t as easy to control as she might believe.
He shook his head. It shouldn’t be so easy. He had actually been considering flying back to Ireland, his prized torque in hand to offer her, for the chance of bedding her. It wasn’t as if prized Irish antiquities were his passion or anything. He’d liked the piece and when Manning had offered it to him, he’d intended to pass. The gold neckband had piqued his curiosity, but nothing more. Until Angel had deemed him unworthy of it. Furious. Commanding. She had stared up at him with those raging violet eyes and informed him in no uncertain terms that he had no right to it. That he was in no way good enough to possess it.
He had bought it then and there without even haggling over the price.
Now the pretty little sprite was out to steal it back. He would have chuckled if she weren’t within hearing distance, cursing like a sailor and heaping insults on his ancestors. Damn, she had fire in her, she’d just been determined to hide it. A fire he was anticipating tapping quite soon.
Finally, he heard her near the stairs, her soft footfalls moving to the upper story before he moved. He stayed well behind her, moving up the staircase as she disappeared into the first bedroom. It would take her several minutes to check it well, which gave him plenty of time to slip past the closed door to his own room.
It was in his room that the torque rested, still packed in his luggage, nearly forgotten amid the rush and bustle of ranch life after he returned home that morning. His partner Luc had sold the last of the Clydesdale horses and taken up training mustangs for rodeos. The man was as mercurial as spring. The business seemed to change with the seasons where he and his new wife, Melina, were concerned. Not that they didn’t make money. They did. But Jack never seemed to be certain if he was selling Clydesdales, mustangs, cattle, or dry Texas dust.
“Men should be neutered.” The soft voice approached his bedroom as Jack flattened himself against the wall. “Jack Riley should be neutered. Too much testosterone making decisions for him.”
Her soft mutterings were amusing, if insulting. He shook his head, watching as the bedroom door opened, the little penlight sweeping out in front of her as she stepped into the room.
Jack moved then. Silently, swiftly, he slid across the distance, coming behind her, his arms going around her, one hand locking at her throat as a frightened gasp left her lips.
“Testosterone can come in real handy at times, little girl.” He pressed his hips against hers, grinding his erection against her lower back as his lips lowered to her ear, his teeth nipping at the silken lobe as he felt her tense in his hold. “Especially when it comes to punishing pesky little kitten burglars with smart mouths.”
Oh hell! Angel stilled, tensed, feeling the thick wedge of Jack’s erection pressing into the small of her back as his big hand circled her throat. And she should have been frightened. She should have been terrified and fighting for her life and she would have been, if she didn’t know him so well. He was undoubtedly going to piss her off, but he wasn’t going to hurt her. He wasn’t going to let her go, either—the snug hold he had on her assured her of that.
“You’re a goon, Jack,” she snapped as her hands rose to the fingers locked on her throat.
The position tilted her head back, angling her head on his shoulder as his teeth played at her ear, sending shivers of pleasure racing over her flesh. And the sensation wasn’t one she wanted to feel right now. She didn’t want to become weak with arousal when she knew the man holding her wasn’t the keeping kind.
“Oh, it’s goon now?” he purred at her ear. “Not nearly as brave as you were moments ago, are you, sweet thing? I think the last insult I heard in Ireland was much better. Stinking dirty cowboy with an attitude.” He snorted. “I do not stink, Angel-mine.”
Angel-mine. He had called her that every time he caught her away from her father on the Manning estate in Ireland. The possessive tone had sent small flutters of pleasure attacking her stomach as an insidious weakness attacked her limbs. Just as it did now.
“I told you not to call me that,” she retorted through gritted teeth as she strained against his hold. “Now let me go, dammit.”
“Oh, I don’t think I want to let you go, little Angel,” he crooned at
her ear, his tongue licking playfully at her lobe as an unbidden shudder raced through her body. “You’ve been a very bad girl. Stealing is against the law here, you know. Maybe we should give the sheriff a call.”
Her eyes widened. He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn’t dare call the sheriff. If she was arrested for breaking and entering and attempted theft, it would ruin her father. Not to mention what it would do to her. She would lose everything she had worked for in the past six years.
And her brothers would be positively horrified. Their careers would be ruined.
Surely he wouldn’t.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she gasped, unable to hold back the shocking thought that he would indeed.
“That’s what we do in America, Angel-mine.” His fingers stroked her throat as his teeth raked the sensitive flesh of her neck. “We put them in a cell and reporters crowd around for all those incriminating little pictures to flash in their trashy tabloids. It’s all damned amusing while it’s going on.”
She heard the threat in his voice, but also a suggestiveness that had her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“So what do you want in exchange for not calling the sheriff and the trashy tabloids, Jack?” Manipulative bastard; she knew he was up to something. And she knew she wasn’t going to like it.
She felt his overnight beard rasp over her shoulder then. The prickly caress had her breathing in deep, fighting to maintain her composure as well as her sanity while pleasure threatened to swamp her.
“What do you have to bargain with?”
Bingo.
“You dirty bastard!” She twisted out of his hold, growing angrier at the thought that she had escaped him only because he allowed it.
Facing him in the dim light of the moon that pierced the thin curtains over the window, Angel clenched her fists at her side and stuck her chin out challengingly.
“I should have known ye wouldn’t play fair,” she snapped. “Do ye expect me to trade sex for your silence? To believe you’d do anything so underhanded as have me arrested for attempting to reclaim my own property?”
