Secret Nights at Nine Oaks (8 page)

Oblivious to his thoughts, Phoebe smiled widely and pecked a kiss to his mouth. “I won't even expect a miracle, I swear.”

That, Cain thought, was what he needed—and did not deserve.

 

Something had changed between them. Neither one spoke of it, but Phoebe could feel it. His guard was down a little further. A line blurred when he cooked for her. It faded when he smiled and laughed and teased like the man she remembered.

“You didn't want to take over for your father?”

“Not really. It was always expected of me, but I would've liked to have made another choice.”

“Such as?

He shrugged, sitting in the lounge chair on the balcony, watching the mist of the evening roll over the river. Cain turned his gaze from it, the scenery too much like the night Lily died.

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, if you don't have a choice waiting, and I'm not saying you have to, then keep running the family companies. You're great at what you do, Cain.”

“And you know this how?”

“I bought stock in your company.”

He frowned. “I'll have to check the stockholders' list.”

“I'm small potatoes.” She sipped a mimosa and stretched on the lounge. The sounds of the night approached—music for them—and Phoebe looked over at him and found him staring.

He was trying not to be obvious but she could tell. He seemed to be comparing her to something when he looked at her. Then she remembered what he'd said that night in the kitchen. Not to think he was so noble that he was mourning his dead wife, that she'd be disappointed.

“Did you love Lily?”

His gaze snapped to hers. He hesitated before answering. “No. Barely.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Then why did you marry her?”

“She was pregnant with my child.”

“Oh.”

“She miscarried a couple of weeks after we married.”

“I'm so sorry. Did that happen when she died?”

“No. Do we have to discuss her?” He said
her
as if it tasted foul.

“I'm trying to understand you better. You're not making it easy, you know.” He scowled and she took another avenue. “I, on the other hand, am an open book.”

He chuckled, but it held little humor. “You have your secrets, too, pixie.”

She flashed him a smile and lay back, drawing her leg up and resting her glass there. “What do you want to know?”

“What gives you nightmares?”

He saw her fingers grip the glass a little tighter and she took a huge sip. “I've been loud again?”

“I'm afraid so.” He'd come into her room the night before when he'd heard her cry out with such fear it left a mark in his heart. Despite her brave front, the dreams tormented her nearly every night.

She groaned, and put the glass down, then rubbed her face. Cain left his chair and went to her, nudging her legs aside and sat on the end of the lounge.

She wouldn't look at him, and he touched beneath her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “It's not my business, so don't think you must tell me a thing.” But Cain could see the memories clouding her eyes and prepared himself.

She took a deep breath, then let it out and when she spoke, her voice was dry and monotone, as if she had told this story many times before. He suspected she had. “Randall and I dated a few times and he was nice enough, spending way too much money on the dates, but there was something about him that gave me the creeps. I couldn't point a finger at it, but it was there. So I broke it off and everything changed.”

“He stalked you.”

“No, not at first. He'd show up at my place and want to come in. Then he'd appear at the strangest places, and since we knew some of the same people, I couldn't attribute it to stalking.” She sat up, drawing her legs cross-legged. “But he'd butt into conversations, touch me. You know, behaving like the boyfriend, and of course, no one would say anything to him because he was popular, and admired and rich.” She turned her gaze to the water. “I went to his place to tell him to back off and he had pictures of me all over the place.”

“Good God.”

“Yeah. Beautifully framed, I might add. That's when I knew for sure he was dangerous.”

She fidgeted and Cain grasped her hand. She gripped back and met his gaze. Tears wet her eyes but never fell.

“I called the police but since he hadn't hurt me,
they couldn't do much.” She swallowed, the memories crowding in on her and she moistened her lips. “He grew bolder, more arrogant, as if nothing could touch him.”

“How so?”

“He left a rose on my car seat, yet my car had been locked. The alarm didn't go off, either. The police suspected he took my keys and made copies.”

She pulled free and ran her fingers through her hair. Cain could feel the tension rising in her and wanted to stop her, but she kept going.

“Then I heard sounds. At night. I would get up to investigate and find a window open when I knew I'd locked it. It was stuff like that for a while, then one night, he was in my bedroom.”

Cain stiffened. “Excuse me?”

His tone went suddenly dangerous, cutting, and she met his gaze. “I woke in the middle of the night and he was standing over my bed.”

“My God, Phoebe, what did you do?”

“I screamed, and he bailed out the window. The police found footprints outside. He'd been there for a while, watching me.” The fear that he'd get out and start again had kept her awake nights.

“Why didn't they arrest him?”

“I didn't get a clear look at his face in the dark so I couldn't say it was him for sure.”

She shivered, despite the warm evening and Cain shifted closer and rubbed her arms and shoulders. “But you knew it was.”

She went into his arms without missing a beat.

“I changed the locks, and my phone number, and signed a restraining order, but when I stepped out of the shower, he was there. He said he belonged there. That I belonged to him.”

“Did he touch you?”

Suddenly Phoebe had a death grip on his arm, and Cain pulled her across his lap, holding her tightly. “Phoebe?”

“Yes, yes! All over.” Phoebe closed her eyes, trying to banish the memory of that man's hands on her skin, the ugly way he groped her. “He would have done…more if I hadn't fought him. He ran from the house and I called the police, but Randall had worked up a nice alibi and it couldn't be disputed right away.” She was hoping her lawyer could do that at the trial. “I looked like a neurotic paranoid fool after that. I felt like I was the criminal. They had a cruiser drive by at night, but I was so scared I couldn't sleep at all.” Her voice wavered and Cain felt immersed in her emotions. “Thank God one of the detectives believed me, and on his own time he sat outside my place.”

“When did they catch him?”

She stared at her fingers, one of his making slow circles on the back of her hand. It was so incredibly soothing, she thought, and the words came easily.

“When he held a knife to my throat.” Cain tensed against her and she could feel his anger rising. She met his gaze. “He was outside in the dark when I went to put out the trash one night. He said if he couldn't have me, no one would.” She let out a slow trembling breath. “Then he forced me back inside. The police were there, watching, and I didn't think they'd get inside in time. They did, but not before he cut me.” She flicked at the curls on her neck to show him the scar.

Good God, it was at her jugular.

Cain bent and kissed it, then sheltered her in his arms. Phoebe inhaled his scent, curled into him and her fear began to slide away.

“He's going to jail,” Cain murmured, wanting Kreeg to pay dearly for this.

“Don't talk about that. I don't want to, not anymore. Kiss me, Cain, I need you.”

He did.

Deeply, hotly. And she curled into his body, loving when his hands rode up her thighs, her hips, then under her shirt. He cupped her breasts, his fingertips smoothing the delicate lace of her bra and his kiss grew stronger. The skies unleashed, water drenching
them in seconds, yet his hand slipped between her thighs. She pressed him to her warm center and he rubbed, aching to have her bare beneath his touch again, to hear her cries when she climaxed for him.

“Oh, Cain.”

“I want you.” Madly, desperately, he thought.

“Me, too. I have for nine years.”

He hesitated. “I'm not the same man.”

“That's a good thing,” she whispered, smiling, and wanted to be lying with him not across his lap.

Cain didn't think so, and with her cradled in his arms, he stood and walked with her through the silent house.

“Are we going where I think we are?” she said, and he liked the lightness in her tone, but couldn't allow himself to fall for it.

“No. You're going to bed.” She made a face, looping her arms around his neck.

He entered her suite and laid her on the center of the bed, covering her.

“Alone?”

Good grief, the woman could tempt a saint and Cain wondered when his resolve would shatter. “Sleep, Phoebe, you've had enough for one night.”

“You're babying me.”

“I want to, let me. Sleep, no one will hurt you. I'll be right here.” He pulled a chair close and sat.

“You could be right here,” she said, yawning hugely and plucking at the bedsheets.

He gnashed his teeth, thinking he was damn noble, and wished she'd just conk out before he got stupid.

Like a charm, the earlier cocktail sent her into sleep quickly, and Cain stretched his long frame out in the chair that was too delicate for his size.

As if waiting till she was most vulnerable, Kreeg invaded her dreams. She twisted, again trying to crawl away. Then she kicked out violently, flinched and gasped, and Cain could only imagine the details of her trauma as he quickly came to her, braving her flailing fists to gather her in his arms. She made a pitiful, angry sound and he whispered her name and how he'd never let anyone hurt her again. She didn't wake, yet a tear slid down her cheek. He drew her into the curve of his body, his arms wrapped tightly as he lay down on the bed. After a moment she settled, calling his name in a whimper that cut through to his bones.

Cain squeezed his eyes shut, hurting for her, and offered her the only thing he could: soft whispers and his strength. When he wanted to give her the world.

P
hoebe was descending the stairs, dressed in Suzannah's old riding habit when she saw Cain.

She smiled, her heart doing a little dance as she neared. Nobody made her feel the way he did. His dark looks and angled features were to die for, but it was his soulful eyes that got to her. They seemed to dig into her heart and make a home there, and beg her to set him free from this self-imposed prison.

Last night, he'd held her through her dreams, keeping her safe from them, and she'd never felt so protected and cherished. He'd become her port in her private storm. She wished she could be that for him.

“Out again?” he said, leaning on the banister and looking more relaxed than ever.

“I have at least five acres I haven't seen yet.”

“It's just fields.”

“I know, but it's neat to see them filled with crops.” He made a sour face, and she gave him a playful shove. “You've been around it all your life, you take it for granted. But the food and textiles have grown here on the same land for hundreds of years. Sort of unusual nowadays.”

He stared thoughtfully. “The strangest things amuse you.”

“I know. I'm a cheap date.” She stopped on the last step at his eye level and met his gaze. Her entire body ached for him, her mouth tingling to be kissed. “Join me?” She'd asked before, but he never had.

Cain thought for a second, the temptation of being alone with her far outweighing the reasons he shouldn't. “In about a half hour?” He flicked at the sheaf of papers he held.

Her expression lit with excitement, making her eyes bright. “Really? I'll ask Mr. Dobbs to saddle Pegasus. Shall I wait or meet you?”

“By the stream. It's going to rain again, though, so we won't have a long ride.”

“I'll take what I can get.” She leaned and kissed him softly.

Cain's hand immediately gripped her waist and pulled her off the last step and into his arms. The papers fell to the floor as Phoebe sank into him. His mouth moved heavily over hers, his hands expressing his banked passion as they slid up her rib cage, her back and pressed her ever harder.

Phoebe wanted to drag him into the nearest room and explore this with him.

Then someone cleared his throat.

Cain drew back slowly, his breathing labored, and he loved that she didn't open her eyes right away, as if savoring the sensations that exploded between them.

Then they both looked toward the sound.

Benson stood near the door, actually smiling, a riding helmet in his hand.

Phoebe didn't say a word except to brush her lipstick off his lips, then went to Benson, taking the helmet.

“I'll be waiting,” she said with a glance back, her eyes begging him not to disappoint her.

Cain wouldn't.

Or at least he didn't mean to, but a half hour later, he walked to the stable in time to see her riderless horse trot toward him.

He groaned. She was going to be mad, he thought, grabbing the mount's reins. Dobbs rushed out to take the animal, and then looked around.

“Where's Miss Phoebe, sir?”

Cain's gaze shot to the saddled horse, the stables, then to Dobbs. “She's not here already?” Cain asked carefully, his heartbeat skipping when he realized the mount was winded.

“You saw, sir. The horse came back without her.”

“Oh, God.” Cain ran into the stable and was astride his stallion and leaping out the exit before Dobbs could say more. At breakneck speed, he headed to the stream, panic racing harder with the pounding of the horse's hooves. His imagination tortured him with a short burst of dangerous pictures as he rounded a curve, branches swiping at his clothes.

Overhead the black clouds formed and collided, threatening to unleash their wrath before he found her.

Then he did, on her back under a tree, and his heart tumbled to his stomach as he yanked back on the reins. The horse reared, pawed the air, then dropped its hooves to the ground with a hard thump as Cain threw himself off and raced to her.

“Phoebe!” He grabbed her up in his arms. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“No. I'm fine. My dignity's bruised, though.”

Cain let out a long breath, clutching her tightly, realizing exactly how terrified he was, how much she meant to him. Then he showed her, cupping her face and kissing her wildly.

She responded instantly, and the power of his kiss drove her head back, her body arching into his. Heat bubbled and flowed between them, the wind doing nothing to cool the passion that boiled over and took them with it. Cain tasted her like a madman, a starved man, and he knew he was. She was an addiction, a deep need in his heart that cried out to be satisfied. Having more of her would never be enough, yet his mind warned him that the tempest would erupt and there would be no stopping it.

“You've scared the life out of me three times,” he said fiercely against her mouth, then kissed her again.

The dogs, at the river, and now this, she thought. “Yeah, I know.”

He cupped her jaw and met her gaze.
“Stop it.”

Phoebe saw real fear for her in his eyes. “I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional.”

“I know. I know… What happened?”

“A branch knocked me back and I lost my seat.”

He peppered her face with kisses, wanting to take her to the ground and have her now. “Thank God, you weren't thrown.”

“Tell that to my butt.”

He smiled against her mouth. “Want me to rub it?”

“Oh yes, please.” His gaze slid to hers and her ex
pression went sly and sexy. “Never offer if you aren't ready to do it.”

He hands slid from her waist, cupped her behind, and massaged gently.

“Oh man,” she said, and he groaned with her. She wiggled against him, wanting to stay right there.

“This opens a door, Phoeb.”

She framed his face in her tiny hands. “Been open for a long time, Cain.” Her tongue snaked out to lick his lips. “Stop knocking and walk through.” The challenge turned her green eyes smoky.

“Good God, I didn't need to hear that,” he said, but the temptation of Phoebe DeLongpree was more than any man should have to suffer. He ducked his head, and laid his mouth luxuriously over hers again. Overhead, the sky darkened, and storm clouds rumbled inland from the river as he tasted her.

Rain fell. Lightning cracked and she flinched. Cain dragged himself from her arms and went to the horse, climbing up, then tipped his booted foot out. She placed hers on his instep and he leaned, slipped his arm around her waist, and hoisted her up to deposit her on his lap, side saddle.

“So gallant,” she said, and shivered dramatically.

“We're going to get drenched again,” he murmured against her lips, then drank her in again.

She nipped at his lower lip, her desire for him pounding with the thunder. “It's just water.”

Things were so simple for her, he thought as he nudged the horse toward home.

But the motion of the horse ground her behind into his groin. Cain shifted her, mumbling under his breath.

“I'm too heavy.”

“No, you're making me…insane.”

“Yeah, I can feel it,” she teased, and his eyes darkened, the strain showing in his features. “You'll be ready for the loony bin soon.”

Rain splashed over them, water dripping down his handsome face. His gaze was coal-black and intense, and Phoebe felt a tidal wave of emotions at the powerful stare. He seemed on the brink of something, his body tense, edgy.

“Save me then,” he said. More than just teasing, more than a consent between them, his words held a desperate plea for her. He'd denied himself the pleasures of people, of simple delights, and while Phoebe wanted to solve the reasons, she simply kissed him.

And he possessed her. The passion they'd shared before rose fast and furiously to a new height, a new place and Phoebe felt swallowed whole and consumed down to her heels.

He stretched her across his lap, his hand hurriedly
mapping her curves, dipping between her thighs to rub and tease. Rain melted over them, into their kiss and Phoebe drove her fingers into his hair and held him, telling him she wanted more, wanted anything he did. And in the kiss, she let all her doubts fall away and soak into the ground with the falling rain.

She hungered for him, and while she knew in her heart her own feelings, she didn't dare bring them out. He would hurt her again and she asked herself, “Will you risk hurt for him?” And her heart shouted, “Yes.”

Cain let go of the reins to hold her, his hands skimming her impatiently from breast to thigh and back again. Phoebe arched in his embrace, the horse jolted and Cain gripped her, laughing and curling her around him.

“Good God, we'll end up in the mud.”

“Hmm…kinky.”

He chuckled darkly and laid his mouth over hers again, his tongue slipping between her lips and teasing her with the motion. Near the stable, the horse quickened its pace and Cain tore his mouth from hers and drew on the reins.

In the pouring rain, he met her gaze, and she could see the question in his eyes. Did she want to take this further?

She touched his jaw and in a single kiss answered, begged to be fulfilled. Right now.

He eased her down, then hopped off as Dobbs rushed out.

“Oh, thank the lord you're all right, Miss Phoebe.”

She glanced at the man, smiled. “I am, Mr. Dobbs, thank you.”

Quickly, Cain positioned her in front of him. “Please don't move.”

She twisted a look at Cain, amused, and feeling the evidence of their playing pressing warmly to her behind. “Now would I do that to my rescuer?”

“You'd do anything to tease me.”

Oblivious, Dobbs took the reins and led the horse away, saying, “Gonna be a big storm. Best get out of it and them wet clothes before y'all get sick.”

Cain winked at her. “Yes, we best.”

She grinned. “Race yah,” she said and she shot toward the house.

Cain blinked, staring after her, then chased her down. He caught her in the mudroom, snagging her around the waist, and went crazy kissing her.

“Here? Oh fun,” she said, working off her muddy boots.

“Hell no, but I have to touch you. Everywhere.”

Excitement coursed through her as Cain toed off his boots, then grasped her hand, pulling her into the house. He paused in the back hall, looking around.

“You're sparing my reputation, how sweet.”

He glanced. “I should send them all home.”

“Do.” She slid her hand provocatively over his flat stomach, her fingertips grazing his erection. “I plan to be vocal.”

“Oh God,” Cain groaned and swept her up in his arms, bolting toward the staircase and taking the steps two at a time.

Phoebe laughed at his enthusiasm and he silenced her with a kiss at the top of the stairs, then let her legs go. She stood on her toes, her body pressed against his, his back to the wall. His hands were busy rediscovering her contours, enfolding her breasts to thumb her nipples in deep circles through her wet shirt. She whimpered and leaned into his touch, yanking his shirt from his trousers, and driving her hands up his bare chest. He made a growling sound of such dark hunger, Phoebe felt empowered.

Then the sound of voices floated up from downstairs.

“Oh no, spies,” he whispered, then wiggled his brows.

Phoebe was captivated by the freedom in his smile, and when he pulled her toward the west wing and the wide double doors of the master suite, she didn't hesitate. The antiques, and the opulent decor blurred around her. All she saw was Cain. How, in
his own way, he cared deeply for her. He'd limited himself for five years, but now, he wasn't. Then outside the doors, he stopped and looked at her intently.

“Are you sure? Nothing will be the same.”

She gazed up at him, seeing how greedy he was for her and knew it mirrored her own passion. If nothing came of this beyond one night, she told herself, it was a precious moment in time she would cherish and accept.

“I'm sure, Cain. Are you?”

“I don't think there is a question in my mind that I couldn't reason away, but God help me, I want you so badly.” At the last word, his mouth came down on hers and he backed up and nudged the door open, then maneuvered her inside.

He kicked the door closed behind them, drawing back to look her in the eye. Something had changed. Phoebe felt him quake, the restrained power in his tall body, and it thrilled her. She touched the side of his face, her feelings and her desire for him overwhelming her. He was so handsome, and so different right now. His damp hair was wildly mussed, far from the well-manicured way he'd looked when she'd first seen him. His clothing was wet and muddy, and he appeared more rugged than elegant, more real than the fearsome beast she'd met two weeks ago.

“I like you like this,” she said, gripping his belt and tugging him near. “Messy, relaxed.”

“I'm far from relaxed.”

“Oh?” She opened the buckle.

“I feel like I'm about to crack in half.” He smoothed his hands over her hair and cradled her face. “I'm almost afraid to let go.”

Something tightened around her heart, clamping down hard and squeezing her breathless.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

But you will, she thought.
You won't leave Nine Oaks and that hurts me. Hurts us.

Yet she said nothing, leaning into his body, and he snatched her up, kissing her madly, the force of it bending her back over his arm.

“You taste so good,” he murmured. “I can't wait. I can't.”

His gaze traveled over her as she stood stretched out to him, nearly limp under his touch, and his hand moved up to her waist, savoring the feel of her cool damp skin before he slipped under her shirt and filled his palm with her breast. She made a sweet sound and he pushed the wet shirt and bra upward, baring her to the heat of his mouth. Warm lips met her cool flesh and she shrieked at the contact, then moaned as he laved, his lips tugging at her nipple, sending tight clawing desire spiraling outward.