Warning bells sounded in her head. She knew what the outcome of her future had to be. He did not. She had to marry Fletcher—she didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was something he would not understand and something she could not let him or anyone else prevent. It didn’t matter what sacrifices she knew she was making. What mattered most to her were her sisters.
She hoped the vibes she was beginning to intercept from him were wrong and that he was not considering anything beyond what they had shared this week. Maybe she’d made a mistake in coming here tonight. Had removing her engagement ring made him think that she was willing to put aside her future with Fletcher? She had to make sure he understood that was not the case.
“Dillon?”
He reached out and placed a finger to her lips and, as if he comprehended what was going through her mind, said softly in a husky tone, “Although I don’t have all the facts, I do understand, sweetheart, more than you know, and I think it’s time for you to understand something, as well. Regardless of who you might be engaged to marry, you are mine.”
Before she could comprehend his words, he lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that was as potent and powerful as any intoxicating drug. And it was just as effective. Her mind and body became meshed in a mirage of sensations so forceful she gave up any desire to convince him to think differently.
She only recalled bits and pieces of him removing her clothes. But she did vividly remember the kisses he placed all over her naked body once he had completed the task. And she had committed to memory the sight of him removing all of his clothes, every single stitch, and then putting on a condom—almost a difficult task due to the size of his arousal—before returning to her.
Concentrated desire consumed her the moment he rose above her as he took her mouth again the way a hunter would go after his prey. Moments later he pulled away to use that same mouth to trace downward, to latch on to her nipples, sucking gently and causing flutters to stir within, to the point of being breathless.
And then he was there, close to her face, raising her hips, widening her thighs, lifting her legs to hug his shoulders, and then entering her in one smooth thrust that made her moan his name. But he didn’t stop there. He continued to stroke her, inside and out, bearing down on her mind each time like he was bearing down on her body. And with each stroke it seemed to relay words he had not yet spoken, words she felt each time his dark eyes met hers, each time they breathed in and out together as one.
Sudden tears sprung to her eyes when she realized the depth, the intensity and then also the uselessness of the love she felt for him, all the way in her bones, in the air she was breathing. Yes, she had fallen in love with him. She’d once heard that a woman’s body could and would recognize its mate, and the thought that this man was hers almost overwhelmed her, and touched her very soul.
He saw the tears flow down her cheek and leaned in to kiss them away, as if he had the ability to make whatever was wrong in her life right. She wished it was that simple, but knew it was not.
She looped her arms around his neck when his mouth moved from her cheeks to her mouth, and then she kissed him in all the ways she had dreamed of kissing him the past two nights.
He gave in, allowing her to lead, to take the kiss wherever she wanted it to go and to whatever degree of passion she wanted it to be. And when she felt the explosion that ripped through her body to ricochet to his, she couldn’t hold back her scream of pleasure. And when she felt him sink deeper into her, tail-spinning into his own massive release, she clutched him tighter to her, locked her legs around his back, knowing that, regardless of what he thought and no matter that she now knew she loved him, this was all they would have together.
Nine
“I want to know why you are marrying a man you don’t love,” Dillon said raspily, close to her ear.
They lay locked in each other’s arms, their bodies entwined, drenched in sweat from the intensity of their lovemaking. The aftermath of pleasure was so profound they were still fighting to get their heart rates back to normal while they savored what had to have been passion of the most explosive kind.
Dillon watched as her gaze widened at such a deliberate and bold question, and then his heart began pounding in his throat while he waited for her to respond. When she nervously licked her lips, he was tempted to lick right along with her but knew he had to hold back and listen to what she had to say. Tonight he wanted answers and wouldn’t be satisfied until he got them.
And then, not surprisingly, fire crept into her eyes and she tilted her chin slightly. “You have no right to ask me that,” she said.
A smile touched his lips. His woman was feisty when she needed to be and he liked that. He liked even more the thought of her as his woman. “I have every right, Pam. I’m a Westmoreland, remember. Raphel’s great-grandson. I take what I think is mine regardless of whom it might belong to at the time. And you are mine. I told you that. And if you have any doubt of that take a look at the position you’re in. I’m still inside you because it’s where I want to be, where I know you want me to be.”
She frowned. “Doesn’t my engagement ring mean anything?”
He was tempted to laugh at that question. “No, not even when you’re wearing it. And I notice that you don’t hesitate to take it off when it suits you to do so,” he said, knowing his words would stir her fiery anger even more.
At the moment he didn’t care. He had fallen in love with her. If he hadn’t been sure of it before, he’d known it as fact the moment she had taken the initiative and had plied him with her kiss. It seemed while she’d been ravishing his mouth with her tongue, emotions he had never felt before, deeper than he’d ever thought they could go, had consumed him, broken him down and reeled in his heart.
“Remember what I said? I give, you take and no regrets? I may have forgotten to mention that in rare situations, I claim. This is one of those situations.”
She shifted to ease up but he had her leg pinned beneath his. Her frown deepened and then she said, “It’s complicated, so it won’t do any good to tell you anything.”
“Humor me. Tell me anyway.”
She looked away from him but he heard her words nevertheless. “What makes you think there is something to tell?” she asked.
“Because you’re here in this bed with me, and by your own confession a few nights ago, you’ve admitted you’ve never slept with Mallard, the man you’re engaged to marry. And,” he said, reaching out and tilting her chin upward, bringing her face back in focus to his so their gazes could meet, “you’re not a woman who could be in love with one man and sleep with another.”
“You don’t know that,” she all but snapped.
He continued to hold her gaze as he took her hand, led it to his lips and then placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Yes, I do.”
For some reason deep down she actually felt that he did. No, she wasn’t a woman who could love one man and sleep with another. In all actuality, he was the man she loved, but it would take more than love to help her now.
“Pam?”
She breathed in deeply and said, “I have to marry Fletcher.”
He lifted a bemused brow. “Why?”
She hesitated for a moment before saying, “My father died and left a second mortgage on our home. Although I’ve worked out a monthly payment arrangement for now, which is being handled through my father’s attorney, the bank in Laramie wants the loan paid in full within ninety days. I tried applying for a loan with a bank here in town but that didn’t work out. Fletcher had offered to marry me to take care of it. And he’s promised to make sure money is there when my sisters need it for college.”
Dillon just stared at her. At first he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. Then to make sure he had, he asked in an incredulous tone, “You’re entering into a marriage of convenience?”
She nervously licked her bottom lip. “No, not quite. He does want children one day, so it will not be a marriage in name only.”
“If
Mallard wants to impress you with kindness why didn’t he just pay off the balance of the loan for you?” he asked, biting out the words through clenched teeth.
She looked surprised he would suggest such a thing. “I couldn’t ask him to do that. I’m talking about a balance that’s over a million dollars. Dad purchased adjoining land with the intention of reopening the dairy.”
“Even if Mallard couldn’t loan you the money, he could have cosigned for you to get it,” he said, not accepting any excuses for the man. He could recall the number of times his signature had been on such a document for his family members. “And most banks require that loans of that amount be insured in case the borrower dies,” he added. “Which bank holds the mortgage?”
“Gloversville Bank of Laramie. I guess somehow Dad got around it, which I still find rather strange. But I’ve checked with his attorney and he’s gone over Dad’s papers more than once. Dad didn’t have the kind of insurance that would satisfy the loan. Mr. Gadling has been most helpful, working with the bank on my behalf, setting up the monthly payment arrangements where he receives the money from me to pay them.”
Dillon heard what she was saying but it didn’t make sense. In his profession he didn’t know of any bank that would loan that much money without requiring that some kind of life insurance be purchased with it.
“So there,” Pam pronounced.
She’d said it like that settled it, but he had news for her. It didn’t. His gaze traced over her features. A part of him saw beyond what she was saying. It saw beyond what she thought she needed. She assumed she needed Fletcher Mallard. As far as he was concerned, she needed him. And unlike Mallard, he would deliver without any strings attached. It could only be then, after the matter with Mallard was dispensed with, that he would ask her to marry him, for all the right reasons two people should marry.
But still, something about the way her father’s loan had been handled bothered him and he intended to check a few things out for himself on Monday. Deciding it would be best not to tell her what he planned to do, he lowered his head and tasted her lips instead, stirring the embers between lovers back to a roaring blaze.
And moments later, when he eased back inside her body, he knew he was where he belonged.
* * *
“Where do you get so much energy?” Pam asked in a whisper, while watching Dillon ease from the bed and head toward the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. “You, Pamela Novak, give me strength.”
He moved on toward his destination giving her a good view of strong, long legs and a nice, tight tush. He gave her strength, as well, she thought, closing her eyes and snuggling under the covers. She inhaled the masculine scent he’d left behind and knew at that moment, as crazy as it seemed, and unlikely as it could be, each time they made love she fell deeper and deeper in love with him.
Now he knew the whole story regarding her relationship with Fletcher, and although she had a feeling he didn’t like it, at least she hoped he understood why she had to marry Fletcher. Shifting up in bed she glanced at the journal on the chair, just as she heard Dillon returning from the bathroom.
“Did you find out any more about why your great-grandfather ran off with my great-grandfather’s wife?” she asked, trying to keep her focus on her question and not on his naked body.
“Yes, I found out,” he said, walking over to the chair to pick up the journal and returning to the bed to hand it to her. “I marked the spot with a sticky note. Some members of your family had to have known the whole story, but I guess it was a family secret.”
Pam lifted a brow before opening the journal to begin reading. A few minutes later she was lifting as tonished eyes to his. “Portia was caught in bed? With another woman?”
Dillon nodded slowly. “Yes. And to protect her from the scandal it would have caused, the husband of the other woman and your great-grandfather decided it would be best to keep the matter between them. But it was decided both men would eventually divorce their wives, which during that time would have been a scandal in itself.”
Pam nodded. “So since Raphel was about to leave Gamble anyway to head out to California, he and Jay came up with this plan to take Portia away so she could start a new life elsewhere. Do you think the other woman joined her later?”
Dillon shrugged. “Who knows? We’re talking about the nineteen thirties. There’s no telling how things turned out with Portia. But your great-grandfather did legally divorce her for desertion before marrying your great-grandmother. I’m glad to finally know why Raphel ran off with another man’s wife for the second time.”
Pam closed the journal. With the mystery solved, Dillon would be leaving Gamble. He had no reason to stay. “Both times Raphel came to the rescue of women who needed his help. Sounds like a high-caliber man, a real protector of women,” she said.
His lips curved into a smile. “Yes, but so was Jay. He could have made things hard on Portia, but he was willing to step back and give her a chance to live her life the way she wanted to live it. Leaving with Raphel was still a scandal within itself, but it would have been far worse had the truth been revealed.”
He took the book out of her hands and placed it on the nightstand before easing back into the bed with her. “I’m flying out in the morning to return home to take care of a few family matters, but will return by the end of the week,” he said.
Confusion touched her face. “But why are you returning? You’ve gotten what you came for. You now know the reason Raphel ran off with Portia. He and Jay set the entire thing up to look that way to protect Portia’s reputation.”
“Yes,” he said huskily, easing up on his knees in front of her and slowly advancing on her like a hunter stalking its prey. “That was the reason I came initially, but you’re the reason I’ll be coming back.”
“B-but nothing has changed. I still need to marry Fletcher.”
A dimpled smile touched his lips. “No, you don’t. I’m a man known to make things happen instead of taking advantage of a situation like I think Mallard is doing, so I plan to offer you an alternative.”
She lifted a brow. “An alternative?”
“Yes. I can’t let you marry another man when I know that I’m the man for you.”
She shook her head and gave a resigned sigh. She’d thought he understood, but he really hadn’t understood at all. “Dillon, please listen to me, I—”
“No, I’m asking you to trust me,” he said, gazing into her eyes with a plea that she felt all the way to the lower part of her belly. “I know that is a lot to ask when we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I believe there has to be another way out of this situation. A way in which you don’t feel forced or obligated to marry Mallard or anyone else. I want you to trust me and give me time to find another way. Do for me what Jay did for Raphel. Trust me to make your situation better.”
She stared deep into his eyes and then she said softly, “Fletcher expects me to have a date set for our wedding when he returns.”
Dillon nodded. “When does he get back?”
“Sometime this weekend, probably Sunday.”
“Then stall him. I need time to check out a few things,” he said huskily. “Say you will trust me.”
She continued to look into his eyes, searched his face for a sign of why she shouldn’t trust him and knew she would not see one. “I will trust you.”
A satisfied smile touched his lips. Raising his hands, he cupped the lower part of her face and leaned forward for their mouths, as well as their bodies, to mate once more.
Ten
“Pamela, I thought we agreed that you’d set a date for our wedding by the time I got back,” Fletcher said, sitting down to the dinner table with her and her sisters.
He had called Sunday morning to say he would be arriving back in Gamble around noon and was eager to see her. She had invited him to dinner and the first thing he’d done, after giving her a hug and telling her how much he had missed her, had been to ask wha
t day she had picked for their wedding.
“Maybe she’s decided not to marry you after all, Fletch,” Jill said, smiling sweetly over at him with a deliberate glare in her eyes.
“That’s enough, Jillian,” Pam said to her sister. Jill didn’t know how true her words were. “I’ve been busy, Fletcher.”
He frowned. “Too busy to plan a wedding that we both know needs to take place?”
She frowned back, wishing he wouldn’t discuss such matters in front of her sisters. “We can talk about this later, Fletcher.” She knew he didn’t like putting off the discussion. In truth, she didn’t, either.
Thanks to her sisters dinner hadn’t been pleasant. They had practically ignored Fletcher. Having been gone for almost a week, he had wanted to be the center of attention and hadn’t liked being ignored. Although she had tried rallying conversation around him, Nadia, Paige and Jill had not bought into her ploy. He hadn’t been any better, often times mocking things they’d said. By the end of dinner her nerves were strained and she was ready for her sisters to retire to bed and for Fletcher to leave.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Fletcher said, breaking into her thoughts as she walked him to the door.
“My private plane made a pit stop at the Denver airport and I went inside to grab a copy of a magazine and noticed today’s Denver Post. Your friend made the front cover with a very beautiful woman plastered by his side when they attended a charity function together this weekend. According to the paper, wedding bells might be in order for the couple,” he said, smiling brightly. “I figured you’d want to see a copy so I saved the article for you.”
Brenda Jackson The Westmoreland Series Books 16-20 Page 11
