California Caress (36 page)

Frantically, her thoughts circled back over the many twisting paths that had led them this far. Not only couldn’t she recall which paths led where, but she was also becoming aware of the chirping crickets, croaking bull frogs—and total absence of music. If the strains of the orchestra could not reach them here, then it stood to reason that her screams of panic would not reach the house. But she
wouldn’t
panic, Hope commanded herself. To do so would be a fatal mistake.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she jeered. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared angrily into the glint of satisfaction shimmering in his eyes. “What was your plan in luring me out here, Charles Frazier? To keep me away long enough for Drake to suspect—? It doesn’t matter.” She tapped her toe on the dry leaves in aggravation. Her thoughts drifted to the scar lining her back and she wondered what this man’s reaction to it would be. Instinctively, she knew it would be disgust. “Whatever your plan, it won’t work. He knows me well enough to know my morals aren’t that loose.”

“He thought the same about Angelique,” Charles took great pleasure in reminding her as he took a threatening step forward, “and look what happened there.”

“I’m not Angelique,” she countered, with a quick step back. She was ready to bolt back into the thick of the garden. “My head isn’t turned by sugary words and false attention.”

“No?” Half the distance between them was closed in one long stride. “Then what would it take to turn that pretty little head?”

“Your brother.”

He reached out and clamped a fierce hand on her shoulder as she turned to flee. Abruptly, Hope was swung back to face him.

“Afraid you’re twenty years too late for that,” he said, his tone light. Too light, she thought. “Angelique set her sights on Drake when she was eight. Having him has been her single-minded pursuit in life, a pursuit that was delayed a bit when we married. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve yet to see my wife denied anything she wants. She would never tolerate it.” The fingers tightened, biting painfully into her shoulder. “Have no doubts,
Mrs. Frazier
. If Angelique wants your husband back, she
will
get him. There’s nothing you can do to stop her.”

She tried to shake off his hand. It didn’t work. “I won’t have to. I have faith in my husband, sir, and because of that faith, I think he’ll see her manipulations for what they are. Drake’s no fool. He won’t be so easily duped a second time.”

“No?” Charles asked slyly. “I don’t agree. My wife can be very persuasive. By now she probably has your husband convinced I
forced
her to marry me. It wouldn’t surprise me to find them locked in a lover’s embrace beneath one of these rosebushes.”

One dark brow rose in challenge as Hope finally succeeded in pushing his hand away. “And did you?” she countered. “Force her to marry you? It’s the only reason I can think of for a woman to leave a man like Drake for a man like you. And if you really think they are low enough to be rolling beneath rosebushes, I say we should take a look around and see. Or doesn’t your confidence extend that far?”

“I can think of far more pleasurable things to do in a moonlit garden,” he growled, the sardonic brows furrowing together in undisguised fury. He reached out and pulled her hard against him.

The air left Hope’s lungs in a rush. Feebly, she struggled against him. Her bare toes collided with his shin. Although the contact caused pain to shoot through her foot, it seemed to have no effect on Charles. His grip merely tightened until it was all she could do to draw breath.

“Your heartfelt defense of my brother is touching, but misplaced.” His wounded hand captured her waist as, without warning, the fingers of the other entwined in her hair and yanked. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to settle for second best. You’ll have to settle for me.”

Hope gasped as her chin snapped up, her scalp stinging with the abuse. Their gazes clashed before his angry mouth crashed down on hers.

The kiss was hard and punishing, it’s purpose no doubt. By the time Charles pulled away, her lips were swollen and bruised, her humiliation complete.

“There now,” he said smugly, his hands dropping from her as he straightened his crooked cravat. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Given a little time, I’ve no doubt you’ll grow used to my attention. Eventually, you’ll probably prefer it to Drake’s. Most women do.”

“I’d rather die!” she spat, literally, in his face. The spittle trickled in moist droplets down his cheek and chin.

She didn’t wait for his reaction. Hoisting the skirt above her knees, she turned and bolted down the path. Rocks and sticks bit at her tender feet, tripping her at every turn. Ignoring the pain, she plunged on, her flight becoming frantic when she heard the heavy tread that signaled a quick pursuit.

One path melted into the next. She followed them in no discernible order as sharp branches reached out to rip at her hair and arms. Lithely, she dodged those she could, and bore the stinging pain of the ones seen too late.

When she could run no more, she stopped and leaned heavily against the rough bark of a maple tree. Her breath was coming in long, searing gasps that rivaled the frantic pounding of her heart for prominence.

Dry leaves crunched on the path stretching to her right. Hope made ready to flee again. Before she had taken the first step, a figure emerged. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of broad shoulders, tapered hips, and light hair that glistened to a rich shade of silver in the pale moonlight.

“Hope?” the sea-green eyes raked her tattered form, finally settling on her kiss-swollen lips. “What the hell—?”

“Drake!” Without thinking, she catapulted herself into the safety of his arms, burying her face in the warm hollow of his shoulder. Desperately, she clung to him, drawing from his strength.

“Hope,” Drake murmured, his voice struggling to remain calm. His palm stroked the length of her hair in time with each ragged breath. “What are you doing out here? And what happened to your dress?”

Mutely she shook her head. Words of explanation died on her tongue, unspoken. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. Her encounter with Charles, her suspicions of Angelique. All that mattered was that Drake was here, holding her, soothing her, comforting her in a way that only he could. Little by little she felt her anxiety melt away, replaced by a different, more complex sensation, a sensation only Drake Frazier was able to stir within her.

“Hold me,” she whispered hoarsely against his neck. “Right now, I just need you to hold me.”

Drake’s arms tightened around her protectively. “Oh, sunshine, what did he do to you?” he groaned, resting his cheek atop her head. “It was Charles, wasn’t it?”

It was a statement, not a question, but Hope nodded anyway. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking. “It was Charles.”

Although he didn’t let go, Drake pulled slightly away. The tip of his thumb trailed over her bruised, quivering lower lip. Damn! He should have known Charles would take his fury out on Hope. Why hadn’t the thought occurred to him
before
it was too late to stop his vengeful brother?! “And this?” he asked roughly. Again she nodded and his gaze hardened dangerously. “What else did he do to you? He didn’t—?”

“No!” Hope shivered in disgust. Good Lord, she couldn’t even bear the
thought
of that! “I was lucky enough to get away before things got out of hand. As far as I know, he’s still searching the garden trying to find me.”

Drake raked his fingers through his hair and gave a brisk nod of satisfaction. “You shouldn’t have come out here. You should have stayed inside where it was safe.”

“I thought it
was
safe. I didn’t think he would—I mean, I thought
you
were out here!”

The arms encircling her shoulders and waist dropped abruptly to his side. Hope shivered with cold when he took a step away. “With Angelique?” he inquired from over his shoulder.

She frowned. What had she said to bring about such a sudden shift of moods? “Yes,” she repeated impatiently, “with Angelique. As I recall, you
did
leave with her.” Stiffening, she scanned the path in both directions. Except for broken branches, dry leaves, and crickets, they were alone. She turned her curious gaze on Drake. “Speaking of Angelique....”

“We went back inside for punch,” he explained with a shrug. “When I saw you were missing, I left her there.”

Should I be grateful?
she thought sarcastically. Did the thought of leaving Angelique’s side hold no appeal for Drake? The hard set of his jaw made her wonder if he didn’t have better things to do with his night than rescuing her from the clutches of his overly eager brother.

Swallowing past the sudden tightness of her throat, she swept the skirt aside and turned down the path. “I’m sorry to spoil your evening. Please, don’t let me keep you.”

With each step, she waited for Drake to stop her. He didn’t. She could feel his eyes boring holes in her rigid back as she rounded the corner and came into full view of the back of the house, but that was all. No footsteps followed her and no hand shot out to stop her progress.

Her heart tightened with bitter disappointment and regret as she lifted the torn skirt and ascended the veranda’s chiseled stone steps. The sight of Angelique’s preening face at the top of the stairs made Hope hesitate. Blinking back tears, she tilted her chin at a haughty angle and swept past the manipulative woman. Ignoring the contented smile tugging Angelique’s lips was not as easy, but Hope managed it.

“Have no doubts, Mrs. Frazier. If Angelique wants your husband back, she
will
get him. There’s nothing you can do to stop her.”
Charles’s words haunted Hope as she dashed the moistness from her eyes, then swept into the crowded ballroom.

“Mrs. Frazier, retiring so soon?”

Hope was turning the knob of what she presumed to be Drake’s bedroom door when Charles’s hatefully familiar voice stopped her cold. Dropping the hand to her side, she turned to see him leaning lazily against the wall near the stairwell.

“It’s been a long day,” she murmured noncommittally. When he continued to stare at her, she pursed her lips and glared at him in annoyance. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His head shook in slow, thoughtful sways. “Not directly. However, I think there is something I can do for you.”

“Dear Lord, why me?” she sighed, wearily resting her shoulder against the door. Louder, she added, “If you have something to say, say it. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I’d rather enjoy a nice soft bed than spend the rest of the night playing stupid little guessing games with you.”

His lips tightened angrily. “I’ve devised a way for you to keep a ring around your finger, woman,” he snapped, shoving his hands deep inside his trouser pockets. “The least you can do is be grateful.”

“Me?” she scoffed in disgust. “I don’t think so, sir. You’re too selfish to be wasting time wracking your brain to think of ways for me to keep my husband.”

“Perhaps,” he countered shrewdly. “But I would wrack my brain thinking of ways to keep my wife. I see no reason we can’t both profit from my ingenuity.”

“I do. I’ve had enough of you tonight to last a lifetime.” She reached for the doorknob with trembling fingers and turned. “Whatever plan you’ve concocted, I want no part of it.”

“Even if it means losing my brother?”

Hope’s gaze returned to him slowly. Her dark eyes sparkled with conviction. To think that once she had actually defended this weasel to Drake! What had she been thinking of? Comparing this swine to Luke and what she’d shared with him was like comparing night to day.

“Even then,” she said, finally. “You see, Mr. Frazier, if Angelique is successful in stealing Drake away from me, then that would mean I never really had him to begin with. All the fighting in the world wouldn’t keep him at my side if it’s Angelique he wants to be with. I believe you said words to that effect in the garden tonight.”

“So you’d just give up?” he asked incredulously. Pushing away from the wall, he approached her. Hope, remembering all too well her previous encounter with him, flinched. “Without a fight? I don’t believe it!”

“Believe whatever you want. Right now I’m too tired to care. Now if you will excuse me—”

“I most certainly will not!” Before she could stop him, he reached out and slammed the door shut. “You may be willing to let them make a fool out of you, but I’m not so generous.”

“What do you mean?” she demanded. The smell of brandy on his breath was strong, and she instinctively retreated a step. There was small comfort in knowing the houseful of guests below would hinder any further physical attempts he might make.

Charles hesitated, his crystal blue eyes shimmering with disgust as he leaned against the closed door. “Do you know where you husband is right now, madame? Or my wife?”

“The last time I saw Drake, he was in the garden—alone.”

That she had seen Drake since her encounter with himself seemed to surprise Charles, but he recovered quickly. He fixed her with a glance just shy of recrimination. “Perhaps for the moment he was alone,” he conceded coldly, “but how long do you think Angelique will allow him to stay that way?”

“I don’t know,” she replied tersely, “and I don’t care.”

It was a lie. She cared—so much so that the thought of Drake slipping off into the night with Angelique brought a stab of pain to her heart the likes of which she hadn’t felt since learning her family had perished in the fire in Thirsty Gulch. But she’d rather rot in hell before letting this man see, and play on, her pain.

Of course, Charles saw through the veneer of haughty disdain only too well. His lazy smile attested to that. “Don’t you?” he reached out and brushed his cloth-covered knuckles against her suddenly warm cheek. Hope swatted his hand away, but the damage had been done. “Then why do you flush every time I mention your husband and my wife together?” he argued. “And why do your eyes shimmer with betrayal?”

“I haven’t been betrayed.”

“Yet,” he conceded with a brisk nod. “But how long will that last? How long before they submit to the treacherous passions of their bodies? A passion that has been too long denied?” He watched as the tip of her shill-pink tongue darted out to lick suddenly parched lips. When the moment was ripe, he pounced. “And what do you do, madame, while your husband is out romancing another?” Charles scoffed derisively. “When we first met, I would have sworn you’d shown a touch of spirit. I must have been wrong. Only a complete fool would give full blessings to her husband’s blatant indiscretions by welcoming him back into her bed.” His eyes drifted to the closed door, and the long, thin fingers that tightly gripped the latch. “Yet it would seem that is exactly what you are about to do.”