by Cole, Sunny
Riley defended her husband. ‘Jack has been kind to me, and if not for him, I wouldn’t even know about the Fitzgerald children, I’d never have met Amelia.’
Sharon released Riley’s arm. ‘You don’t call her grandmother?’
‘We don’t know if I have that right. We won’t know anything until the blood tests are back.’
Riley groaned inwardly. She hadn’t even taken the bloody tests. And now Sharon had a self-satisfied smile on her face.
‘So it’s come to that already.’ Sharon nodded. ‘Joe always had a soft spot for you. It appears Amelia does as well.’
Sharon’s words were tantamount to an admission that she, too, believed Riley was a Fitzgerald.
Riley felt as if she were still in school and asking permission to leave. ‘Is that all?’
‘Not quite.’ Sharon looked about, as if measuring the distance to see if anyone else might hear their conversation. ‘Watch your back. If someone meant to harm you before, they’re probably still out there.’ She reached into her glittery evening bag and pulled out a business card. ‘My cell number is on the back. Call if you need me.’
Watch your back. Riley had heard, thought, or imagined those words or a derivative thereof so often during the past few days that she could easily slip into paranoia. While no attempts had been made on her life, no one had even been rude to her, much less threatened her in any way, but she felt off balance.
Had it only been a few short weeks ago that she’d been carefree, broke but hopeful, alone yet secure? Every poor little rich girl biography she’d read, every television show or movie about someone trying to kill or undermine someone with money suddenly haunted her.
This is madness. I won’t give in to it. I won’t.
Was there no-one she could even confide in?
Jack didn’t trust Patrick. Sharon didn’t trust Jack. Amelia would definitely tell Jack if she knew Riley left to visit Gerald Frost in prison. Patrick would tell his mother or father. Even the servants couldn’t be trusted. James was Jack’s man, Janet had told Riley of things she probably shouldn’t have mentioned, so if she’d talk to Riley, she might talk to someone else.
You should have kept in better contact with your friends. Riley had no one to blame but herself for being so alone.
She said her goodnights to the others and made her way back to her bedroom. Once there, she put on a nightgown and settled into bed, still troubled by her conversation with Sharon.
His wife was still awake when he reached their room. Jack was glad. While he had no intentions of doing more than holding her while she fell asleep, he knew he’d still have a hard time not thinking of her, wanting her.
He felt her eyes upon him as he undressed. Ordinarily, that would have been a major turn-on. With Riley, he might’ve even considered doing a striptease or something to get her in the mood for play. Tonight he felt only relief that the day was over and all was well.
Riley, it seemed, was comfortable with his presence. She turned to face him as he climbed between the sheets.
Jack experienced one of the moments men he knew all seemed to hate. Did he hold her, kiss her, comfort her, or was it more important to wait and let her make the first move?
Sexual politics suck. He kept his cool, didn’t look for encouragement that might not be there, faced her as patiently as possible.
The next thing he knew, his sweet little wife pounced on him. Tossed aside the sheet and blanket and straddled him.
‘Riley?’
‘I had to get your attention. You seem a million miles away, and we never finished our talk earlier.’ She thumped him on the chest. ‘I don’t like you dictating to me who I can and cannot speak with — like Patrick.’
He nodded, confused but willing to work with her. ‘Understandable. But can you see this from my perspective?’
‘Yes and no.’ Riley took a deep breath. ‘All my life I’ve wanted a family, a real family. You’ll never know how much I struggled with accepting your offer, because...because...’ Tears welled in her eyes, and she brushed them aside, obviously frustrated. ‘Because what you offered was a chance to have my own family, but only on your terms. I thought I could agree — I did agree. I signed the papers. But now...with Amelia and Patrick, and even his dad and his weird mum, there’s a chance for me to belong. And you’ve decided I can’t.’
Jack squirmed beneath her, partly out of empathy, partly because his wife’s body so connected to his was disconcerting, and he knew if he didn’t extricate himself, he’d be doomed. And Riley didn’t appear to be angling for a sexual encounter, just one of a meeting of the minds.
He lifted her from him and sat facing her on the bed. ‘I sense you’re unhappy with me for more reasons than my wish that you not speak with Patrick alone.’
‘Well, yeah.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Sharon asked if you knew I might be related to Amelia before or after you...proposed, if that’s an accurate term for how we got together.’
‘I see. What did you tell her?’ A knot formed in his stomach. He already knew what Sharon had implied to Riley, that he’d only married her for her inheritance.
‘I wanted to tell her it was none of her business, but I gave some lame response — I don’t remember exactly what I said.’
He set his jaw. ‘And you’re wondering if Sharon is stirring up trouble or looking after your best interests.’
Riley folded her arms across her chest. ‘I don’t really care at this point. I’d just like to move on with my life, and I’d like to be sure I can trust my husband.’
‘Ah.’ The unintended barb tore at his heart. She doesn’t trust me, or she wouldn’t have mentioned it.
‘What can I do to reassure you?’ Give me something to go on, Riley, because I damn sure don’t know what to do without at least a hint.
Chapter Twelve
Before he could get his mouth open, she leaned over and kissed him. Hard. When she’d finished, she stared.
‘Jack, if you find you have any attraction whatsoever to me, now would be a good time to tell me.’
Stunned and not as tired as he’d supposed he was, Jack lifted her back to her previous perch on his stomach. His hands stroked her back, sides, and finally her breasts. And to his amazement, she let him.
Riley moaned softly as he caressed her, melting with his touch, her soft surrender almost more than he could bear without throwing her on her back and doing what he’d longed to do since he’d first tasted her sweetness.
‘Ah, chérie, come here.’ He pulled her face toward his again. It took all his power to be gentle, when he wanted so badly to devour her, but he kissed her lips, her face, then her throat, his mouth trailing her cheekbones, the column of womanly neck, the perfect hollow at the base of her throat. His tongue dipped, tasted, went back for more.
He murmured to her in French, barely aware of what he said. Heat built between them. He was on fire for her. Consumed. His lower body ached to possess her, but he forced himself to go slowly, take his time.
She lifted her arms and he removed her gown, exposing her to his sight, touch, and taste. She was a delicate morsel to be savoured, a bit of heaven he possessed. He lifted her and kissed the scar on her stomach she’d received as a child.
Riley moaned as he set her aside momentarily.
‘All in good time, chérie .’ He quickly removed his own clothing and this time when he lay on his back, their bare skin kissed. The soft curls of her femininity against his body drove him over the edge, and he could hold back no longer.
She rose, on her knees, just enough for him to position himself...a bit more, then a solid shaft seeking entrance, all but thundering against her. She eased herself onto him, but he couldn’t lie still. He thrust...again, again, until he was buried inside Riley, her slick heat enveloping him.
‘Am I hurting you, chérie,?’ He looked into her eyes with concern.
She didn’t appear able to speak. She shook her head and closed her eyes, leaving Jack wanting...hoping...that
he was doing the right thing by executing what they’d both desired.
Momentum increasing, they peaked, shattered, and melted into one another’s arms.
Riley was quiet, but Jack felt her measured breaths until her small frame quit shaking.
He rolled them gently onto their sides, with him spooning her. Soon he felt her body relax, and she fell asleep nestled against him.
For several minutes, Jack pondered what had just happened. She’d made the overtures, which both thrilled and confused him. He’d never imagined the mix of ecstasy, fascination, and sheer joy a woman could offer. Not just any woman — his wife. And now that he’d fully possessed her, Jack knew he had to protect Riley at any cost, even if it displeased her.
She’d said she wanted to be free to speak with anyone she chose. He knew she was right, but the repercussions were unsettling. Allowing Patrick into her life wouldn’t destroy their marriage, but it very well could prove dangerous for Riley. Until Jack was certain she was safe, he’d have to monitor his wife’s comings and goings on the sly.
Jack had no trouble falling asleep that night, but he had a devil of a time waking the next morning.
He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. You’re out of shape, mate. You haven’t ridden your bike in months, and you haven’t made love since...well, too long.
His precocious wife had taken off much earlier. She’d left a note telling him she would be in the cabin on the hill should he need her. She took her cell phone with her this time. Not that he needed to call her — he knew where she’d be.
Janet confirmed his thought when he visited her after breakfast.
‘Your missy, she not good about eating breakfast, but I make her.’ Janet smiled with self-satisfaction. ‘She like my scones, so I send her up the hill with them and coffee. All she want to eat is fruit and drink coffee or water. But I gonna make her fat when she get pregnant.’
Pregnant? Startled, Jack sheepishly remembered they hadn’t used protection last night. What were the chances, though?
At first, the thought brought a huge smile to his face, and he swelled with anticipation. Just as suddenly, his mind latched onto the idea Riley might think he’d gotten her pregnant on purpose, to make certain he was forever linked to the Fitzgerald fortune. A flash of anger zapped him as he thought of people like Sharon who might make sure Riley’s pregnancy raised doubts in her mind. His wife would never trust him if she thought he’d used her.
Difficult as it was, he had to switch gears, focus on something else.
Jack’s cell phone beeped, and when he checked it, a reminder came up. Damn, he had a conference call to make that afternoon and a business trip scheduled for the rest of the week.
He checked other messages and the calendar on his phone as he made the climb to the cabin on the hill. He found his wife taking a break, facing the valley east of the vineyards.
Awkward after-sex moment. He sat beside her wordlessly. She had looked up but didn’t seem to be able to break the silence any better than he did. Finally he cleared his throat and faced her.
‘How are you this morning?’
Riley nodded. ‘I’m okay. Bit surprised is all.’
Jack asked, ‘Good surprise or bad?’
She wet her lips. ‘I was a bit aggressive last night. Sorry.’
He touched her hand. ‘You were wonderful. I was afraid you were just having a few moments of doubt and needed reassuring, when all I could do was think of...well, you know.’
Riley turned to face him. ‘We didn’t use protection.’
‘My fault. I didn’t think...’
‘Neither of us did. I’m just as responsible as you for what happened. Probably more.’
Jack wondered if she regretted what had happened. It was unplanned, but he certainly had no misgivings.
‘Riley, I don’t know what to say. To be honest, I’ve never been in the position of giving a damn what a woman felt or thought after we had sex, so this is new to me.’
She nodded again. ‘And now?’
‘I give a damn.’ He wished he could offer more, but admitting he cared was hard enough. He hadn’t quite processed his own feelings.
He decided to change the subject before either of them became mired in doubt. Somehow rehashing what had happened didn’t seem advisable. Not when it appeared neither of them quite knew how to have even a casual conversation about it.
‘I’m expected in France day after tomorrow. Care to join me since it involves you?’
‘Me?’ Riley seemed surprised.
‘We’re considering marrying a vine from Nice with one of ours, doing some transplanting and cross pollination,’
Say yes, chérie . He didn’t want her on her own for five days, and it would give Riley a chance to become acquainted with her mother-in-law.
‘Do you really need me?’ She looked about the cabin and pointed to a space she’d recently cleaned. ‘I thought I’d order some equipment I need and get it set up this week.’
His thoughts raced. ‘Do you have the brochures you need, catalogues, the forms you need for ordering?’ Jack came up with every idea he could summon, considering he’d never partaken of this side of the business, merely managed whoever had the job.
‘I suppose.’ She looked doubtful. ‘Jack, I can probably pick up most of this stuff myself in Sydney or Brisbane.’
He turned on the charm. ‘Nice, France. We shall stay on the Promenade — you’ll love the old hotel, and we can eat at the best restaurants, drink the finest wine, even visit a cellar owned by a good friend of mine a few kilometres outside the city.’
Riley put her hands on her hips and stared at him. ‘Fancy hotels, vintage wines, gourmet food. Who are you, and what have you done with the biker I was with in Newcastle? The man who ate cheese and bread, drank coffee from a thermos, rode over uneven and muddy terrain?’
Jack grinned. ‘He’s still here, chérie . Where do you think I learned to ride a bike? The Bellet neighbourhood north-west of Nice.’
‘And your family’s vineyard?’
‘Further inland, about an hour or so drive from the Riviera. I thought we’d go there once I’ve finished my business in Nice.’
She seemed conflicted. Jack gave her a moment to process then interrupted her thoughts. ‘Your husband invites you to Nice on holiday, and you have to think about it this hard? Our business shouldn’t take but a day or so, and then we can relax, whatever my wife desires.’
The idea formed before Riley could contain it. Travel to Nice, leave early, come home and visit Gerald Frost, hopefully without incident, and without her husband’s knowledge. She’d fly from Sydney to Hervey Bay and take a long, and probably expensive, taxi ride from there to the prison in Aldershot, less than ten miles south of Maryborough, if she remembered correctly. She’d searched on the internet when she awoke that morning. Her dearest friend from the orphanage had married and moved to Hervey Bay. Perhaps Alexandra could drive her to the prison. If Riley could trust anyone to keep her secrets and get her out of a jam, it was Lex.
With my luck, I’ll get caught. Jack will be angry. I probably won’t get anywhere by asking Frost anything. Then again, Jack is not the one without a family and a possible means to find them. What can he do? Divorce me? ‘Sure. When do we leave?’
Riley rose to the occasion, finished telling Jack what she needed, provided him with a list, then went back to the main house with him to pack for France. All the while her heart thudded so fast and hard she feared she’d pull an Amelia act and pass out.
She thought back to their conversation. Your husband. My wife. Such simple words he’d used, with complex meanings, particularly in her case. Hadn’t she longed to belong, give meaning to her vows? Wouldn’t her visiting Frost seem like a betrayal to Jack? He’d already told her he didn’t think it a good idea. Was she willing to risk losing the closeness they were developing?
Riley hadn’t decided what to do. She went through the motions of packing, eating, mundane activities. But al
l she could think about was her daring plan. She’d not travelled much, had led a rather secluded life until she met Jack. As little as two months ago she’d have scoffed at the idea she’d strike out across the eastern coast of Australia on her own in pursuit of a conversation with what was probably a mad and dangerous man. He had to be crazy to contemplate killing three helpless children. Kudos to him for not going through with it, but if he’d struck out with intentions of earning his money, that alone was a red flag signalling he was demented.
While Jack and Amelia talked and she was supposedly napping, Riley took the time to phone Lex and ask for help.
‘Babe, you know I’d do anything to help, but have you thought this out?’ Lex’s deep voice resonated comfort and concern.
‘I’m sure.’ Riley told her friend what she needed — to be certain Frost was still in prison at Aldershot and to be confident Lex would drive her. ‘And if you will, find out if I need to be on some sort of visitors’ list before seeing him. That’s if he’ll speak to me.’
Her friend conceded. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow sometime before your plane leaves Sydney. Better yet, I’ll text you so Jack doesn’t suspect. And no worries about putting me out. The kids are with their father on a trip to Singapore for another week.’
‘I owe you, luv.’ Riley said goodbye and tried settling down for a nap, but it wasn’t to be.
She jerked to attention at the knock on her door. Guiltily, she called out for whoever was on the other side to come in. Jack would have simply opened the door, so it had to be Amelia.
No. To Riley’s dismay, it was Sharon,
Like a stick figure in Dior, with the personality of a sock, the woman entered Riley’s private abode as if she owned it. Sharon walked to the French doors and opened them without asking, appearing to look out over the balcony.
Still not looking at Riley, she spoke. ‘Amelia tells me you and Jack are leaving for France tomorrow. I was hoping you and I could get better acquainted. I’m sure you have much to tell me. It’s been so long since we last saw one another.’
