Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 (27 page)

She brushed her shining hair back from her face and tied it with a white satin ribbon. Ready, she faced herself in the mirror. Dear God, she couldn’t bear to do this to Colt. Why, when he saw her in the skintight gown, they were both going to die of embarrassment.

She went to the study and opened the liquor cabinet behind the large desk. Taking out a bottle of whiskey, she removed a glass from the shelf above the cabinet and poured herself a drink. She drank it down quickly, coughing. Tears stung her eyes. How could anyone like the horrible brew? Wine was nicer, but the calming she sought came much quicker with whiskey.

Colt entered the room a short while later to find Briana standing before a photograph of Kitty. Standing next to her, he announced, “I think Mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

Briana blurted, “Yes, I wish I’d known—” She stopped, terrified. What had she been about to do? Admit she’d never known Kitty Coltrane? Thank God the whiskey had not completely obliterated her thought process, and she was able to cover by saying, “Known her better. I wish I’d had the opportunity to know her
better.”

She turned to give him a beguiling smile, touching his forearm in an intimate gesture. She leaned forward a little, revealing a good view of her full-sculptured breasts. “Thanks to my being so headstrong and spoiled, my time with your mother was quite brief. I was never privileged to know her in the way I’d have liked.

“Still,” she continued softly, fingertips dancing up his arm lightly, “I was always aware of her great beauty—and quite envious, I admit.”

Colt laughed, warm and happy to hear her avowal. She was not the insensitive, self-involved little snob he had always believed her to be. He only wished her touch did not arouse him so!

Her perfume, the feel of her so close, her touch… Colt needed a drink. Bad.

He went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey. Then he noticed that the whiskey bottle was considerably lighter than it had been the previous evening.

Briana was grinning at him, looking quite glassy-eyed.

Colt laughed. Of course she had been drinking. No wonder. “You’re a heroine now, you know,” he told her admiringly. “The men were quite impressed when I told them what happened.”

“A lucky shot,” she said with real humility. It
had
been pure luck.

She gestured to the table. “Will you bring in what’s being kept warm in the oven? It isn’t as nice as I would’ve liked to prepare for you, but it will have to do on such short notice.”

Colt nodded, returning from the kitchen with the casserole dish in a moment. “Dani, it looks just fine to me. Real fine.”

They sat down, and Briana reached for the chilled bottle of
blanc-cassis.

Coli raised an eyebrow. “What made you decide to serve that? It’s terribly sweet. I don’t think Father ever served it except at Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

Briana struggled not to sound desperate. “But, Colt, this is a special occasion, and it’s such a nice drink. I
adore
it.” Actually, she detested the sickly sweet liqueur, but she’d sampled this bottle after mixing in the potion, and been pleased by how successfully the liqueur masked the flavor of the potion.

Colt gave in, holding out his glass. “Just a little, please. I’m still sipping my whiskey.”

Briana hesitated. What effect would the combination have? Was it dangerous? She prayed not, but she had to go on with her plan.

Colt talked as they ate, explaining that, first thing in the morning, the men would ride out to all the ranchers for miles around and tell them about the hydrophobia at Destry Butte. There was the awful possibility that infected animals had lived long enough to leave the butte, go to other areas, and bite other creatures.

“Is there nothing else to be done?” Briana asked, shivering at the memory of the coyote’s glassy eyes, the saliva dribbling from his fangs, the foam caked in the fur around his mouth.

She asked, curiosity getting the better of her, “Have you ever known anyone who was bitten by an animal with hydrophobia?”

“Yes. It was horrible,” he replied grimly. “And there’s only one cure: death.”

Briana reached for the whiskey bottle he had set on the table. “Let’s talk of pleasant things, shall we?” She filled her glass again.

“I thought you liked the liqueur,” Colt said.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she responded hastily, “I just don’t want to drink it so quickly. Besides, it’s too sweet to go well with food.”

Colt agreed, pushing his own glass away in favor of the whiskey.

Briana felt herself becoming more and more mellow. She wasn’t used to drinking. Colt, too, was relaxed.

They left the table and, taking their drinks, sat on the sofa before the fireplace. It was a warm night, but Colt lit a fire anyway. He left the doors to the patio open, and a gentle breeze blew across the room.

Briana warily glanced over her shoulder at the bottle of drug-laced liqueur on the table. She had to find a way to entice Colt to drink enough to pass out. He’d drunk a glass of the liqueur, but that wasn’t enough. Then she could complete her plan.

It felt good, Colt mused, as he sat beside Dani, to be able to be with a woman and talk easily. After a while, he found himself talking about Charlene. He confessed feeling that he had caused her death, and Dani was quick to admonish him.

“You are entirely blameless, Colt, and you must concentrate on that.”

She touched her fingertips to his brow, pushing back a lock of his unruly black hair. She leaned closer to him as she did so…and she didn’t miss the way his breathing quickened. The flash of longing in his eyes signaled that it was time.

He shifted away from her uncomfortably. “Well, it’s over now, and I shouldn’t burden you with it.” He sighed. “I think I’ll call it a day. It’s got to be an early morning for me.”

Briana clutched his arm. She did not hesitate, knew it had to be now—or never. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

At first, Colt was too stunned to feel anything. Then, slowly, as her mouth worked against his, he awakened. He yielded. His lips melded against hers in a kiss that burned to the depths of him. Liquid fire raced through them, igniting passionate desire for fulfillment.

Briana pressed closer, moaning deeply when he touched her breasts through the thin fabric of her gown. There might as well not have been any material covering her nipples, for their rocklike tautness quivered eagerly against his touch. He scooped her breasts out, to cup and gently squeeze. All the while their tongues touched, mouths pressing together in an endless kiss of rapture.

Briana fell back on the sofa, arms tightly around Colt. She reveled in the sensation of her breasts in his hands. No man had ever touched them before, and the hunger to feel his lips on her nipples was overpowering.

Her hips began to undulate beneath him, and she was astonished by the urgings of her body as it sought fulfillment. For this was, for Briana, the first time.

Colt lifted his mouth from hers, and in the gentle light, she could see the torment in his eyes…torment mingled with desire.

Suddenly she was struck with the sudden realization of what was happening to them. If he did wish to make love to her, she could not refuse, would not dare refuse. Charles’s life was at stake, and probably her own as well. All she had expected was for him to desire her, then pass out from the drug. That was her plan. But if he didn’t pass out?

She could feel the massiveness of his manhood against her thigh, and her fingers, pressing against his strong, broad back, began drawing him even closer to her.

“God, no!”

The cry was torn from Colt. He jerked away, bolted to his feet, and lurched a little, hands pressed to his temples. “God, no! My
sister,
for heaven’s sake! My goddamn sister!”

Briana got up off the sofa. “Colt, don’t turn away from me.”

She went to the liqueur bottle and grabbed his glass. Could she make him drink it? She turned and found him staring at her with wide, incredulous eyes. “Are you crazy, Dani? Have you lost your mind? We can’t…”

Briana had never seen such wretched despair in anyone’s face. She hated herself. Colt did not deserve to suffer this way.

Another pain stabbed her, deep in her soul.

She cared for him.

The admission stunned her. She had never felt that way about a man. How could she go through with this fiendish plan and hurt a man she cared for so deeply?

With great effort, Briana made herself seem light and gay as she went to him with the glass and the bottle. She poured him a drink, then held it out to him and smiled. “It’s over, Colt. It won’t happen again and it was no one’s fault. Now, can we have a drink and say good night?”

His muscles relaxed a little. She was right. It was over. Emotions had gotten away from him, but he had stopped in time. No need to dwell on the ugliness of it. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s say good night and just forget about it.”

He drank the whole glass, then took the bottle from her and poured another glass, drinking all of that, too.

Chapter Eighteen

Briana said good night and left Colt in the study. A short while later, she heard him go to his room. After waiting
for
almost an hour, she finally went to find that he had succumbed to the effects of the drink before removing his clothes. He lay sideways across his bed, breathing deeply.

She moved quickly, maneuvering him lengthwise on the bed. When he did not wake up, she realized he really was out cold. Pulling the covers back from beneath him, she began to remove his clothing, the shirt and vest first. He slept very soundly.

Unbuckling Colt’s wide leather belt, Briana reached for the fastening of his trousers, then hesitated, her heart pounding. Dear God, she was about to strip a man naked!

But there was no time for hesitation. It
had
to be done. Pulling his pants down, and his underwear, keeping her gaze averted, she rendered him completely naked:

Then Briana dared to look at him. Awestruck, her burning gaze swept over his perfectly molded body. She knew she was without the ability to compare him with other men, for she was inexperienced. Nevertheless, John Travis Coltrane was truly a glorious man.

She started to turn away but realized, with only a slight twinge of shame, that she liked the sight of his genitals. Warmth spread through her, and she dared to reach out and caress him.

He stirred, ever so slightly, but enough to make her jerk her hand away. A tremor began, a taunting reminder that she was going to have to take off her own clothes and lie naked beside Colt all night.

Realistically, Briana knew it should not appear that she had gone to bed with him so willingly. It would, therefore, have been better had she been able to get him to
her
room, to
her
bed, as though he had forced her. But that was impossible. He was far too big and heavy for her to move.

Removing all of her clothing, she lay down beside him, rigid. She didn’t touch him, but only lay there, her heart pounding.

She had extinguished the single kerosene lantern and lay staring up into the darkness. The night passed with agonizing slowness. She forced herself to think of anything except where she was and what she was doing.

She thought of Charles. How wonderful it was going to be when, at last, they were reunited. Why, one day, he might even be able to walk, however precariously.

Think
of
the future,
she commanded herself.

With the money Gavin had promised, she could afford a room where she and Charles could live decently. She wished to remain in Paris. Charles would be close to the best medical care, and pleasant employment for herself would be easier to come by than in Monaco.

At last, too tired to think but too anxious to fall asleep, Briana closed her eyes and waited for morning.

Colt did not feel good at all. Before he even opened his eyes, he knew it was going to be very difficult to get out of bed. He had done it again, had too much to drink. His head was pounding like a hundred blacksmiths’ anvils, and his throat felt like sand.

He tried to raise his arms to stretch, hoping the tight, knotty feeling in his muscles would dissipate. His left arm moved. His right arm did not.

He opened his eyes, then sat bolt upright, jerking his arm out from beneath Dani’s head. “Lord, no,” he cried hoarsely.

Briana burrowed her face in the pillow.

Colt leaped from the bed, then realized his nakedness and looked around frantically for his trousers. Finding them, he dressed as fast as he could, exclaiming, “No! We didn’t. Lord, tell me we didn’t…” He was talking wildly, glancing everywhere except at Dani, for he couldn’t bear to look at her just yet.

Suddenly he went silent, turning away from the bed and going to the window. He stood there silently for several minutes. Then he turned around very slowly and looked at her.

“Tell me,” he begged, voice rasping, “that it didn’t happen.”

“It did,” she cried wretchedly, desperate to have the horrible moment done with. “It did, Colt.

“You asked me to come here with you,” she continued in a rush, lifting her face from the pillow but not looking quite at him. “We started kissing, and it just…happened…” She dissolved into tears that were not feigned.