To Seduce a Rogue (35 page)

Winter
.

She would be long gone by then. He closed his eyes and kissed her softly, her hair clinging to his lips. The strands smelled faintly of lemon. “Your hair smells good.”

Charlie giggled and twisted to look at him. Her sapphire eyes were wide and clear, contentment and pleasure flowing from them. He envied her. Envied her absolute assurance. Envied the happiness she felt, which she seemed to be able to protect from events beyond her control.

He was struggling to protect his. At least until she left.

“Jared...”

His gaze settled on her mouth as she slid her tongue deliberately along her bottom lip.

He groaned low in his throat and again touched his lips to hers. She quivered and swayed into him, rubbing against his hard arousal.

My, she had learned well.

“Let’s” —she kissed the side of his mouth— “go down” —her lips trailed along his neck— “by the” —drawing his skin between her teeth, she sucked— “river.”

He wanted to; oh, how he wanted to. He wanted her on her back, her thighs spread, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her savage, urgent little breaths skating across his skin. He wanted to delve so deeply that he could not climb out. Disappear without a trace.

Except, he would take her with him, of course.

He frowned and pulled away. Now where had
that
come from? Was it a fantasy? It was a rather insufficient one compared to the others he had produced before
she
had come along. Where were the lacy undergarments and crude propositions? The full breasts and round hips? Now, he fantasized about being deserted like some bewildered pirate on a lone isle with Charlie Whitney?

Disgusted with himself and his pathetic daydreams, he thrust her aside. “Ow.” He lifted a hand to his neck.

She stared at him a moment, then spit out a short laugh. “You shouldn’t push a woman away when she has your skin between her teeth.”

“Go inside, Charlie.”

She stopped laughing and narrowed her eyes. He hated the comprehension he saw reflected upon her face.

“You torture yourself for emotions no one could help feeling.”

“
I
can help them.”

Her eyes burned in that noble, persuasive way that made him believe what she said. Or want so badly to believe. She would have made a damn fine politician.

“No. You can’t. You’ll have some relief in this life when you realize that.” She squeezed her hands into tight fists by her side. “You aren’t God, Jared. You cannot control everything. You can’t control my feelings
or
your own.”

“
Go inside, Charlie
.”

She rocked to the balls of her feet and back again. Sighing, she bent to gather her slippers. She paused before leaving the verandah and smothered a yawn against the back of her hand. The lamp hanging by the door revealed a wicked glint in her eyes. “I think I may go up to bed. It’s so
hot
. Too hot for clothing, don’t you think?” She winked. “Night, Chase.”

He waited until she sashayed inside before he let his laughter come. She was the most incredible woman he had ever known. The most incredible he had ever dreamed of knowing.

And for two more nights she was his.

* * *

Two nights later, Charlie woke with a start. She sat, bringing her knees to her chest and hugging them close.

She laid her hand on his pillow. Cool to the touch.

She slid from the bed, neglecting the stool, stretching until she touched the floor. She padded to the window. Wind ripped in and pressed Chase’s long cotton shirt against her breasts and thighs. The night was foggy, a crescent moon providing little light. There was no chance she could see him. And all she could hear was the rhythmic slap of water against the sandy bank.

Where was he
?

A faint noise sounded. Removed from the house, near the woods. She stuck her head through the window. Hoofbeats. He’d been riding at this time of the night?

Taber had been delivered yesterday, much to Chase’s pleasure and relief. He’d been worrying like a mother hen about the horse getting hurt on the trip north.

However, the sight of Taber in his stall had hit her hard. The pain had centered in her stomach, and she’d turned to tell him they were making a mistake.

That leaving, living a life without each other, was a mistake.

Then he’d turned to her with a soft smile and a kiss, and she just couldn’t...do it. She’d tried to tell him a thousand times since then:
this is wrong, Jared
.

Wrong. We belong together
.

There were two truths that she could see. One was, he
didn’t
see. Whether this was because he refused to, or because he was too far gone to love someone again, she was not quite sure.

The second truth was, she loved him.

Loved him with a depth of feeling she had never imagined was possible. Loved him more than she loved herself, she guessed, if the lioness-watching-over-her-cub protectiveness was any indication. It went beyond lust, infatuation, even the respect and awe that had started the whole
arrangement
in the first place.

She sincerely cared about him enough to get on that train tomorrow morning and ride out of his life and back into hers. Because she’d decided that perhaps he
was
unable to love someone again. At times, their closeness seemed as painful to him as alcohol to an open wound. He flinched and pulled away, dodged questions and contact, concealed his feelings and his thoughts with false smiles and laughter.

She thought she had gotten past a point with him, crossed a fence, a fence Adam Jared Chase had never meant anyone to cross again. So here she was, past the fence, but he was
never
going to let her go any further.

And she could not go back.

Sometimes, he had a fearful look in his eyes, and the fear hurt her more than anything had in a long time. More than all the nasty taunts thrown at her while she was growing up.

More than her parents’ deaths.

She had not been the one to blame for those events, but she
was
the one causing this pain.

She had promised she would leave when the time came.

She took a deep breath and turned toward the bed.

When the door opened a few moments later, she was curled on her side, her eyes closed, her lips pressed together.

His footfalls ceased as he neared the bed. The heavy scent of leather and horse radiated from him. It was the hardest promise she had ever fulfilled, to lie still when she wanted to grab him, pull him to her and smother him with all the love she felt.

But dear heaven, she did not want to make his life any harder.

She wound her fist into a tight ball under the pillow as he placed his hand on her face. His skin was moist with sweat. He sighed and ran his finger along her eyebrow, the curve of her nose. He brushed his thumb across her lips, so slowly, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of them.

Leave, will you
!
Go, dammit, go
!

He turned as if he’d heard her. The door closed with a firm click behind him.

She guessed he never heard her weeping.

Regression

The act of going back to a previous place or state.

Miles kicked a pile of leaves from his path as he crossed the dirt drive leading to his house. He loved the intensity of fall. Crisp, raw colors. Colors you couldn’t create if you tried. But darn if the amount of leaves hadn’t damn near killed him. He’d about raked himself into an early grave and still leaves everywhere.

Thank goodness Charlie hadn’t accepted his offer to rake her yard. He really would be a dead man.

As he neared the house, Kath ran down the porch steps and launched herself at him. He grinned and dropped the rake, closing his arms about her.

“What’s this, my girl?”

Kath kissed his mouth and pulled back. She was nearly out of breath.

“Whoa, hold up.”

“Oh, Miles, I felt her move!”

“What move?”

She laughed and slapped his shoulder. “The baby, you ox.”

Swinging her around, he hugged her close. “My son is a strong boy already.”

“She
is
strong girl.”

“Ah, Kathy, I’m thinking he’s a boy. Strong and fit, kicking already.”

She sighed, but smiled, and took his hand, leading him up the stairs and into the house.

The baby was due in late winter. Kathy and Charlie had been busy knitting and sewing, getting clothes and booties and such tiny things ready.

Charlie was almost as excited as his wife.

“Do I smell apple pie?” He patted his stomach.

“Yes, and you’d better enjoy it. We don’t have many good apples left. I need to preserve some for the winter.”

He sat at the table and poured himself a glass of tea. He needed to wash up before dinner, but a short rest wouldn’t hurt. Sipping the tea, he noticed a letter sitting in the middle of the table. He glanced at the front of the envelope before breaking the seal. “Another one?”

Kathy rolled her eyes before turning back to her pot of beans. “It’s absolutely ridiculous, if you ask me.”

He smiled. “Obviously no one is, my girl.”

“They’re both stubborn mules.”

“If you say so.”

“How many letters have we gotten?”

He lifted his gaze and sucked his lip between his teeth. “Hmmm...three or four, I guess.”

“Mercy. Charlie looks at them like they’re lost treasure, yet she wouldn’t touch one if you paid her a quarter eagle.”

He shrugged and returned to the letter. “What does that matter? You tell her what’s in them.”

She banged the spoon against the stove. “She says it doesn’t matter what they say. That’s he writing to you. Not to her. Like she doesn’t care or something.”

“Kathy, we don’t know what went on in Richmond.”

“No, but I have my suspicions.”

“Landsakes. Just ask her what happened and put us all out of misery.”

“I don’t know, Miles. She’s changed so much since she went up there. It’s like she’s older...wiser.”

Kathy was right about that. Charlie
was
different. Not different in a physical way. Not in any way a casual acquaintance would detect. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. The before-Richmond Charlie—as he’d come to think of her—had been a bit like a firecracker. Always restless.

The after-Richmond Charlie was calm...mature. He wouldn’t describe her as unhappy. He really didn’t know how the hell to describe her, and he was frankly sick to death of his wife asking him about it.

Charlie Whitney was
her
best friend. The best friend
he’d
had in a long time was sitting in Richmond, writing him letters. Miles had even written a few back, which was surely a first for him. He supposed he couldn’t chastise Kath for not asking Charlie what had happened. He hadn’t had the guts to ask Adam a damn thing, either.