Kane (18 page)

This time, he let his lips remain lax and still. There was no response when she laved the grainy surface of his tongue with hers or flicked across the clean edges of his teeth. Regardless, she could feel his heart throbbing under his sternum with hard power that shuddered up her arm. She drew back.

“I was right, wasn't I?” he asked, his voice slumberous.

“You were right,” she said quietly.

“The rest of it works the same way.”

“The rest? Oh, you mean—”

“I mean making love,” he agreed, and waited.

She shook back her hair. “I'm supposed to trust you on that after what you tried to do before?”

“That's your choice,” he said. “I'm only making a point.”

It was one she wasn't ready to face. The best way to avoid it, she thought, might be to kiss him.

This time, his cooperation was total, a concentration
so complete that her senses were flooded with the force of it, with the infinite variety of tastes, textures and incitements. She made a soft sound deep in her throat as she abandoned reason to follow where instinct led, let down her guard and accepted his tender invasion.

The duck blind and its hard floor ceased to exist. She was lost in the slow expansion of her senses, in the magic of touch and heat, scent and flavor, and the burgeoning wonder of merging bodies.

Abruptly, he broke away. He brought his hand up to clamp her wrist and lift it away from his chest. In a voice like a rake dragging through gravel, he demanded, “Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

The hand he was holding had been pressed against bare skin and a soft mat of chest hair. Somehow she had pushed her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, pulling them loose. What she regretted most, however, was the loss of warm, human contact, the feel of taut muscle under her palm.

She moistened her lips. “I didn't know,” she whispered, “but I do now.”

He was still for the space of a heartbeat. The night air swirled between them. Then with infinite care, he placed her hand back where it had been before. “As long as you know who's responsible,” he said. Releasing her, he relaxed once more.

She could stop or she could go on. It was her choice.

Or was it? Was it, really, when love and loyalty pushed at her from all directions, or when her own needs and fears clamored in her mind? The love of her son and loyalty to her cousin, the need to feel the
ultimate closeness to another person, and the fear that if she drew back now this chance might never come again. Yet how much easier it would have been if she had only controlled her automatic rejection earlier and let Kane force the decision.

But would he have carried through with it? She didn't think so. He had stopped when he realized exactly what he was doing to her, had let her go because he didn't like the method he was using to gain what he wanted.

Had he abandoned that desire now, or was his consideration and momentary quiescence only another way of getting to her? Exactly who was seducing whom here?

She was thinking too much, which was a good way to lose her courage. What did motives matter anyway, when she was alone with Kane in the damp stillness of the night? What need was there for justification when there was no one to see, no one to know or care, except the two of them?

Her palm against his bare chest felt hot. She smoothed it in small circles, opening his shirt wider as she enjoyed the friction and also the contrast between his firm skin and the springing softness of the hair that grew in a ragged V from his breastbone to his waist. Discovering the nub of a nipple in the crisp growth, she concentrated her attention on it. That it reacted much like her own was amazing. She lowered her head and wet the tight bud with her tongue, tasting the salt seasoning of it, and was secretly gratified at his swift-drawn breath of reaction.

The hollow of his throat, the strong turn of his neck where his jugular pulsed, the angle of his jaw—each
caught her attention in turn. Her exploration was thorough, unhurried. Nor did he seem inclined to rush her. There were times, she conceded in silent appreciation, when the Southern penchant for taking one's own sweet time could have advantages.

Kane shifted slightly, and she felt his touch at her waist. He ran his hand lightly up and down her side, then along her back. There was no confinement in the caress, however, no hint of coercion. It might have been meant to encourage or, perhaps, to beguile. It served its purpose, for she did not object as he threaded his fingers through her hair, gently massaged the back of her neck, then guided her mouth to his once more.

This kiss was deeper, stronger, longer. Somewhere in the midst of it, he took the initiative, though it was done with such care that she could not be certain when she relinquished it to him.

With heated lips, he nuzzled the tender skin of her cheek, inhaling its fragrance, before making a delicate foray down her throat. She felt his hot breath through the thickness of her knit shirt as it feathered over the curves of her breasts. Her nipples contracted immediately. He brushed his cheek across one, with his beard stubble catching on the cloth covering, a gentle grazing. Yet he encroached no farther, only teasing through her clothing, blowing warm air against her, enjoying her softness while never quite touching the ultrasensitive points of her nipples. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, clasping and releasing the hard musculature in spasmodic, unfocused yearning.

Then and only then, he skimmed the peak of one breast and hovered as if waiting for permission. She
gave it by offering what he wanted, then shivered with pleasure as he closed his lips on the turgid nipple.

With iron strength, he caught her waist and rolled with her, carrying her with him so she felt the floor beneath her back. As he rose above her, she sensed the rise of the old terror, the freezing paralysis. She closed her fingers on his shirt between his shoulder blades, squeezing tight.

She must not succumb to the dark distress, had to fight it, push past it, conquer it. She would; there was no other choice.

Then he picked up a strand of her hair that spread around her. Releasing it again, he let it drift down, catching the starlight in red-gold shimmers. “God, you're beautiful,” he whispered, “so beautiful.”

Beautiful. Not gorgeous, pretty, cute, or any of the other substitutes for that one perfect word. Beautiful. It might not be true, but suddenly she felt beautiful for once in her life. Beautiful, and desired.

Like finding and pulling the loose end of a tightly knitted piece of cloth, she felt the knotted skein of her old fears unravel. Bemused wonder took its place. The freedom of it was heady, euphoric. At the same time, she felt daring and seductive. She wanted more—more sensations, more revelations, more tastes and textures and closeness. More of the man who held her.

Perhaps he saw that need in the dark recesses of her eyes, for he slid his hand under her shirt that had worked its way out of her skirt. Slowly, gently, giving her time to object, he cupped her breast. She only lay still and expectant. He bent his head then, to tend her desire with moist suction, cautious nibbles, and unhurried discovery.

A quiver of vivid rapture caught her unaware. Pure distraction, it reached her as nothing else could. She welcomed it, absorbed it. Sliding her fingers through the thick silk of his hair, she held him to her.

Imagination, that was the key to the magic they built between them as the moments passed. Imagination in technique, yes, but also of the mental kind known as empathy, which gave the ability to enter into the reeling senses of the other person, to feel what they felt, then extend further to guess what they longed to experience. The imagination to know that more was required than mere lust and the headlong rush toward completion. To set aside cool calculation and reach for the outer realms of instinct. And, finally, to offer, with open hands, the ultimate expression of generosity, which was to give themselves without reservation.

How had they come to be so attuned when so much was wrong between them? Regina could not begin to guess. She only accepted it as she accepted the miracle of her vanquished fears. Accepted it and reveled in it.

She stripped away his shirt and dropped it to one side, the better to feel his power and his heat. He dragged off her shirt, unsnapped her bra, and disposed of both without either of them noticing where they went. Her skirt, his pants, were obstacles to be overcome, and were discarded along with their shoes and the other civilized bits that satisfied modesty or convenience. Body to body, they came together on the blanket, doing their best to merge through their bare skin by osmosis.

He left a hot, wet path down her abdomen on the way to teach her a new joy. She marveled at the silken length and heft of him in her hand. He pulled her
above him, holding the soft mounds of her hips. She suckled his nipple as he had hers, while clasping his tumescent heat between her thighs.

When they came together, it was a gradual and scrupulous penetration against her tightness. Yet it was also a liquid slide, a benediction and divine disclosure. Tears squeezed from her eyes and tracked down her face. She held him tightly against her, while her heart filled with something so near love that she knew she would never forget this man or the moment, no matter what happened.

Then the turbulence took them, and the glory. They strove with it while their lungs strained and burned, their skins reflected star shine, their blood raced in hot splendor through their veins, and the world moved far, far away. The night gathered around them, shining in their eyes. They sounded its wonder, searched its last corner for ecstasy. And they finally found, in mutual gratitude and mercy, its brightest promise.

For a long time, they lay still, limbs intertwined, skin cooling. Regina's pulse slowed to normal. Kane reached to draw the blanket over their lower bodies. They separated, easing apart, though Kane stopped her when she tried to remove her head from the pillow of his shoulder. Still, they didn't speak, but lay staring at nothing, lost in the slow surfacing of questions and doubts.

It was the buzzing of a mosquito that roused them from the trance that held them. Kane let it land on his shoulder, then killed it. But afterward, he searched out their clothes and pushed Regina's into her hands. Dressing quickly then, he rose and picked up the lan
tern, found the matches. A moment later, light flared that seemed far too white and glaring. Too revealing.

Caught with her bra on but her shirt in her hands, she hesitated, then quickly slipped the soft knit over her head. Only then did she feel able to look to where Kane knelt, watching her. His features in the glare of lamplight were stern, his lips compressed. His eyes were darkly blue, and in their depths was stark self-contempt. And also a lingering shadow of desolation.

“I
'd have found you sooner if you'd fired up the damned lantern as soon as it was dark.”

Kane weighed the words of greeting from his cousin as he held the trapdoor open. His gaze was pensive before he answered briefly, “I know.”

What else could he say? It was true enough, and he'd known it all along. Besides, he and Regina were both a little too rumpled, their faces a little too pale and lips too puffy, for him to play it any way except straight.

Luke gave him a sharp look as he stood in his heavy fishing boat that rocked gently against the bottom of the ladder. Then Kane's cousin lifted a brow and a slow grin spread across his face there in the subdued glow of lantern light shining down on him. When he got no response, his appreciative grin widened while wicked enjoyment danced in his eyes.

Kane gave him a hard look of warning. Luke's expression sobered as discretion won out over humor, or possibly he realized anything he said would embarrass Regina more than its target.

“So what happened?” he asked as he wrapped a line around the bottom rung of the blind's ladder. “You forget to tie up?”

Kane told him how the boat had got loose in a single laconic sentence. He wasn't proud of the fact that he'd been caught off guard like some randy teenager with his girl.

“Who? How?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Kane had his suspicions, but didn't feel like voicing them just now, couldn't see how it would serve any purpose to let Regina know that he'd been too intent on his business with her to notice they were followed from The Haven.

“You thought I did it,” Luke said, still grinning.

“It crossed my mind.”

“I might have, if I'd seen the chance.”

“I know. And enjoyed the joke, too, until I caught up with you.”

Luke didn't find that quite so funny, which was just as well. Kane thought he might have had his cousin's head on a platter, or sure tried, if he cracked any more jokes. He definitely wasn't in the mood.

All the same, Kane was glad it was Luke who had found them. His cousin might carry him high about the incident for the next month, but Kane knew he could be counted on not to breathe a whisper of it to anyone else.

The rescue got under way in record time, since none of them was inclined to linger. He and Regina stowed the gear they had used, picked up their trash, and lowered themselves into the rescue boat. Luke took off.

The ride back toward the house was fast, but damp and cool. It felt good to Kane, but Regina sat huddled in her padded chair with her arms wrapped around her upper body as if cold inside. He would have offered
to hold her, to protect and warm her if that was what she needed, but wasn't sure she'd let him.

God, what had gotten into him? He couldn't begin to understand. He'd certainly never meant to take things so far. The last thing he needed was this complication in the middle of everything else.

But she had been so soft and delicious, and he had thought—Hell, what had he thought? She needed him? That she was trapped by her terrible inhibitions like the damned prehistoric fly was trapped in the amber? That he was the one man to perceive and resolve her fears, the only one who could set her free?

Saint Kane with his trusty sword. So to speak.

What an idiot.

He'd been seduced. The combination of desire and vulnerability, fear and bravado that she had used was lethal and tailor-made for someone like him. He'd been so entranced by the performance that he hadn't seen what was coming at him until it was too late.

Of course, he might not have noticed because he was too busy concentrating on his own agenda. He had set himself up and had no right to complain. So why did he feel as if he'd been blindsided?

She'd got to him, she really had. Somehow he had identified with her, had felt her rootless, unattached state when she was left without family, as he had been left in much the same limbo when his own parents were killed. It had seemed, too, that the intimate betrayal she had been through was on a par with the ugly breach of faith Francie had used in her attempt to extort money from him. They had both trusted the wrong people, both been hurt when their intrinsic need for love and connection was used against them.

Was there really any kind of correlation, or was it all in his head?

Even if there was one, the questions remained: Why him? Why now? How much of Regina's lovely surrender was from sincere emotion, and how much due to shivering calculation?

The answers had begun to haunt him the minute she was out of his arms. They would continue until he had the truth.

The reluctance she'd shown in the beginning wasn't counterfeit; he'd stake his life on that. He hadn't been taken in to that extent. What bothered him most was the thought she might have faked the rest, the need, the pleasure, the release—the whole nine yards. Had any of that been real, or was she only a very good actor, the consummate liar?

Kane turned his face into the wind created by the boat's swift flight and inhaled long and deep. He hated the idea that the love they had made might have left her cold while he still burned with the aftermath. While he wrestled with the need to do it again.

She had used his emotions against him, and he had let her. How had that happened when he had been all set to use hers to get at the truth? He had no idea. She had made him lose sight of his goal, and he didn't like it. Even less did he like realizing she made him feel guilty, as if he'd taken advantage of her. She baffled him, and he liked that least of all.

Still, it had been an experience he wouldn't have missed, no matter the cost. The feel of her in his arms had been so right. Perfect, in fact. He could spend hours discovering the many faces of her, and all the tender, delicate places he had not yet touched. He'd
like to devote days to teaching her all the things she needed to know about making love while reveling in the shape and taste and hot, satin depths of her.

It wasn't over by any means. If she thought once was enough to put him off her trail, she'd soon discover her mistake. No, he and Regina Dalton had seduced each other. Fine. Now they'd see who wound up on top.

He'd also find out who had made off with his boat, setting up the whole infernal sequence of events. It was vaguely possible that it was an accident, that someone had noticed them entering the blind and decided it would be funny to strand him with the new lady in town. But he didn't think it happened that way, any more than he thought Luke was to blame.

He probably should have been more careful about throwing accusations at his cousin. Still, the lake and back swamp were Luke's bailiwicks, and he was more than capable of creating a problem to make a point. He'd shown a certain protective interest in Regina, as well, and might have decided his cousin needed a lesson in the dangers of browbeating women if he'd overheard any portion of the exchange between him and Regina. And Luke could also have figured out that Kane had a less than noble reason for getting rid of him so he could be alone with Regina.

Second thoughts convinced Kane to abandon that notion. Any reaction from Luke to the confrontation between him and Regina taking place during the boat theft would've been expressed with considerably more force. He'd have been far more likely to hand out a swift punch in the nose than let matters continue by removing their transportation.

That left Dudley Slater. Kane was disgusted to think of the little creep following him and Regina, but it could have been done by making use of one of the other boats from The Haven's dock. What his motives might be was the main problem with that idea. Assuming he was on Berry's payroll, it was hard to see what kind of trouble stranding him and Regina together was supposed to accomplish.

Or was it? It might make sense if Slater was in Regina's confidence, if he knew she would welcome the isolation. Kane gave a grim shake of his head as that thought struck him. Was it really possible, or was he headed off the deep end on this thing?

Time would tell, and a good thing, too, since he wasn't thinking too clearly himself. He needed to back off and regroup while he worked things out. It wouldn't surprise him to know Regina felt the same way. The best thing he could do would be to see her back to the motel. They could both sleep on it. In separate beds.

It was the right decision; he knew it. Why, then, did it feel so wrong?

 

The following morning, Kane met Melville in Baton Rouge. They came together on the steps of the courthouse where the preliminary maneuvering for the case was being played out in district court. Louisiana law required the case be heard in a higher court because it involved compensation and damages in excess of twenty thousand dollars. A local venue would have been more convenient for Pops and the witnesses who would be called from Turn-Coupe, but made little dif
ference to Kane. Trying cases before a district judge was business as usual.

He had driven straight to the state capital from home since he was running late. Unable to sleep the night before for thinking of the way Regina had been and how she had looked lying on the floor of the duck blind, he got up at 2:00 a.m. to check on Pops, then worked for a couple of hours. When he felt sleepy, he fell back in bed for a quick catnap, but his hospital vigil and the long hours he'd put in during the past few weeks had caught up. He hadn't roused again until half past seven, and the district courthouse was a good hour from Turn-Coupe.

“How's your granddad?” Melville asked as the two of them mounted the wide steps of the courthouse building, their footsteps grating on the worn surfaces that were hollowed in spots by countless other steps.

“Grouchy,” Kane answered. “Ready to go home and sleep in his own bed.”

“Giving your aunt a hard time, is he?”

“So she says, though she gets a kick out of having someone to talk to besides me.” The smile curving Kane's mouth faded as he noticed the thin, scraggly-looking man leaning against one of the portico columns with a cigarette in his hand. Tipping his head in that direction, he went on, “Looks like the buzzards are circling.”

Melville gave a nod. “Can't keep them away, though I don't know what that one expects to gain. I've seen him here, there, and everywhere around Turn-Coupe in the past day or two.”

“He bothers me. I just don't like it.”

“I expect he's no worse than the rest. You want a
problem to worry about, I've got a real one for you.” Without breaking stride, he flipped open the top of his soft-sided briefcase and extracted a file folder, which he handed over.

“What's this?”

“Dossier on the lady who's been hanging around your granddad.”

Kane felt his heart clench in his chest. He met Melville's dark brown gaze for a long moment. Since they were close enough to Slater to be overheard, he chose his words carefully. “You put a chaser on that problem?”

“Seemed like a good idea.”

It was. One he should have thought of himself, Kane realized. No doubt he would have if he'd been tending to business instead of getting involved up to his neck. Or if he hadn't been so determined to handle Regina his own way.

Voice tight, he asked, “And?”

“Read it for yourself.”

He would. He'd have to, though from Melville's attitude, he could tell he wasn't going to be happy with the results. The look he gave Slater, as he passed the scrawny reporter, was murderous, easily twice as hostile as it might have been a minute earlier.

Catching the tail end of it, Melville frowned. As he got the heavy entrance door, then followed Kane inside, he said, “You didn't want me to check out the lady?”

“Yeah, sure. I'm just not wild about having to investigate every person who comes within spitting distance of this case.”

“That scruples talking, or you got something going there?”

Kane checked himself. “What gave you that idea?”

“You've been seen coming and going a lot at the motel. Word gets around. You were with her at Luke's bash, then out at The Haven yesterday. It adds up.”

“My own brand of investigation.” He spoke over his shoulder as he walked on.

Melville caught up with him in a few steps. “So did you get anything?”

“Nothing informative.” That wasn't the truth, but it was all Kane felt like saying. He just didn't want to talk about it. Any of it. Melville got the message, apparently, for he said no more.

It was after court recessed for lunch that Kane forced himself to open the folder. The facts were worse than he'd suspected. Regina Dalton resided at the same address as Gervis Berry. They claimed to be related, but there was no actual blood tie. That added up to only one thing.

Staring at that damning data, Kane was engulfed in sick rage. How could she and Berry suppose they wouldn't be found out? They must think they were dealing with backward good old boys who had grits in their heads as well as in their voices. Berry, sitting in his New York office, was bad enough, but Regina was on the spot. She should have known better.

He'd like to get his hands on her. He'd have the truth out of her one way or another. For two cents, he'd turn the legal maneuvering over to Melville right now while he went to have it out with darling Regina.

No, that would be too easy, too final. He'd much rather catch her in her lies and deceit and throw them
back in her beautiful face. There were other, more personal, ways to make her regret what she was doing and he knew every one.

So would she before he was through. So would she.

The interminable court proceedings ground their way through the afternoon. When they were finally over, Kane and Melville drove back to the Turn-Coupe office to discuss the developments. It was late when Kane finally called it a day and headed out for The Haven. As he passed the funeral home, he noticed the car his aunt usually drove parked near the side entrance.

Aunt Vivian might be attending to some chore for his grandfather, but he didn't want to bet on it. What was far more likely was that Pops had sprung himself from confinement as an invalid and borrowed transportation to come to town. With a soft curse, Kane hit the brake and wheeled into a parking space.