Carolina Moon (27 page)

“This is what you want.” He unzipped, then flipped her onto her back and straddled her. “It’s what you asked for. What you all ask for.”

When it was done, he wept. Tears of self-pity ran down his face. She wasn’t the one, but what else could he do? She’d put herself in his path, she’d given him no choice.

It wasn’t perfect! He’d done everything he’d wanted and still it wasn’t perfect.

Her eyes were glazed and empty as he took off the gag, kissed her cheeks. He cut the cord from her wrists, stuffed it back in his pockets.

He turned her music off, and left the way he’d come in.

“I can’t come to Beaux Reves.”

Tory sat on the front porch in the soft night air. She couldn’t face going back inside quite yet, wasn’t yet prepared to deal with the mess left by her father and compounded by the police.

Cade contemplated the cigar he’d lighted to ease his own nerves, wished fleetingly he had a whiskey to go with it. “You’re going to have to tell me why. Staying here the way things are doesn’t make any sense, and you’re a sensible woman.”

“Most of the time,” she agreed. “Being sensible cuts down on complications and saves energy. You were right about calling the police, I realize that now. I wasn’t being sensible. It was pure raw emotion. He frightens me, and embarrasses me. By trying to keep it contained, as always, I thought I’d limit the fear and humiliation. It’s hateful to be a victim, Cade. Makes you feel exposed and angry and somehow guilty at the same time.”

“I won’t argue with that, even though you’re smart enough to know that guilt has no part in what you should be feeling.”

“Smart enough to know it, but not clever enough to figure out how not to feel it. It’ll be easier once I put the house back to rights and get rid of what he left behind in it. But I’ll still remember the way Chief Russ sat writing in his little book and watching my face, how my father intimidated me today, how he’s done so all my life.”

“There’s no cause for your pride to be wounded over this, Tory.”

“‘Pride goeth before a fall.’ My father reminded me of that this morning. He does love to use the Bible to hammer his point home.”

“They’ll find him. There are police in two counties looking for him now.”

“The world’s a lot bigger than two counties. Hell, South Carolina’s a lot bigger than two counties. Swamps and mountains and glades. Lots and lots of places to hide.” She rocked restlessly, needing movement. “If he finds a way to contact my mother, she’ll help him. Out of love and out of duty.”

“That being the case, it just makes my point about you coming with me to Beaux Reves.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“A number of reasons. First, your mother would object.”

“My mother has nothing to say about it.”

“Oh, don’t say that, Cade.” She pushed out of her chair, walked to the end of the porch. Was he out there? she wondered. Watching? Waiting? “You don’t mean it, or you shouldn’t. That’s her home, and she has a right in saying who comes into it.”

“Why should she object? Especially after I explain it to her.”

“Explain what?” She turned back. “That you’re installing your lover in her house, because your lover’s daddy is a crazy man?”

He drew on his cigar, took his time about it. “I wouldn’t choose those particular words, but more or less.”

“And I’m sure she’ll greet me with fresh flowers and a box of fine chocolates. Oh, don’t be such a man about this,” she said with a wave of her hand before he could speak. “Whatever it says on the damn deed, Cade, the house belongs to the woman in it, and I will not intrude on your mother’s home.”

“She’s a difficult woman at times … most of the time,” he admitted. “But she isn’t heartless.”

“No, and her heart will not accept the woman she holds responsible for a beloved daughter’s death. Don’t argue with me about that.” Tory’s voice shook, nearly broke. “It hurts me.”

“All right.” He tossed the cigar aside with one violent gesture, but his hands were gentle enough as he laid them
on Tory’s shoulders. “If you won’t or can’t come with me, then I’ll take you to your uncle’s.”

“And there we come to the second part of the problem.” She lifted her hands to his. “Irrational, bullheaded, illogical. I’ll admit all that now, so you don’t have to feel obliged to point it out to me. I have to make a stand here, Cade.”

“This isn’t a strategic hill on a battlefield.”

“For me, it’s very much like that. I never thought about it quite that way,” she said with a quiet laugh. “But yes, this is very much my hill on my own personal battlefield. I’ve retreated so often. You once called me a coward to get my dander up, but the fact is, I’ve been one most of my life. I’ve had small spurts of courage, and that makes it only worse when I see myself fall back yet again. I can’t do it this time.”

“How does staying here make you brave instead of stupid?”

“Not brave, and yes, maybe stupid. But whole. I want so much to be whole again. I think I’d risk anything not to have this empty place in me. I can’t let him run me out.”

She gazed toward the marsh that grew thicker, deeper, greener with encroaching summer. Mosquitoes whined in there, breeding in the dark water. Alligators slid through it, silent death. It was a place where snakes could slither and bogs could suck the shoe right off your foot.

And it was a place, she thought, that went bright and beautiful with the twinkling of fireflies, where wildflowers thrived in the shade and the stingy light. Where an eagle could soar like a king.

There was no beauty without risk. No life without it.

“When I was a child I lived scared in this house. It was a way of life,” she said, “and you got used to it the way you get used to certain smells, I suppose. When I came back, I made it mine, shaking out all those bad memories like dust from a rug. Airing out that smell, Cade. Now he’s tried to bring the fear back. I can’t let him. I won’t let him,” she added, shifting until her eyes met his again.

“That’s what I did this morning. Don’t tell anyone, keep
it quiet. One more dirty little secret. If you hadn’t pushed me, that’s what I’d have done here, too.

“I’m staying. I’m cleaning him out of this place and staying. I hope he knows it.”

“I wish I didn’t admire you for it.” He ran a hand down the sleek tail of her hair. “Make it easier to bully you into doing things my way.”

“You don’t have much bully in you.” Maybe it was relief, maybe it was something else that made her stroke her hand over his cheek. “You maneuver, you don’t push.”

“Well, it speaks well for the future of our relationship that you’ve figured that out and can live with it.” He drew her in, laid his lips on the top of her head. “You matter to me. No, don’t go stiff on me. I’ll just have to maneuver you. You matter, Tory, more than I’d planned for you to matter.”

When she remained silent, he let frustration lead. Sometimes it was the most honest way. “Give me something back. Damn it.”

He jerked her back, then up, crushing his mouth to hers.

She tasted the demand, the heat, the little licks of rage he’d concealed so well. And it was that shot of pure, unfiltered emotion from him that turned another bolt inside her.

God, she didn’t want to be loved or needed, didn’t want to have those same feelings stirred to life again inside her. But he was here, and just by being made her feel again.

“I’ve already given you more than I thought I had. I don’t know how much more there is.” She held on to him, burrowed into him. “There’s so much happening inside me, I can’t keep up with it. It all circles back to you. Isn’t that enough?”

“Yeah.” He eased her back to kiss her again, softly this time. “Yeah, that’s enough for now. As long as you make room for more.” He skimmed his thumbs over her cheeks. “Had a hell of a day, haven’t you?”

“I can’t say it’s been one of my best so far.”

“Let’s finish it right, then. We’ll get started.”

“On what?”

He opened the screen door. “You wanted to clean him out. Let’s do it.”

They worked together for two hours. He turned on music. She wouldn’t have thought of it, would have stayed focused on the details, kept her mind channeled down those strict lines. But the music drifted through the house, into her head, just distracting enough to keep her from brooding.

She wanted to burn the clothes he’d touched, could visualize carrying them outside, heaping them up, striking a match. But she couldn’t afford the indulgence. Instead, she washed, folded, put away.

They turned the damaged mattress over. It would have to be replaced, but it would do for now. And with fresh linens, you hardly noticed.

He talked about his work, in a way that had his voice drifting pleasantly through her mind like the music. They dealt with the wreckage of the kitchen, ate sandwiches, and she told him that she was considering hiring on help.

“It’s a good idea.” He helped himself to a beer, quietly pleased that she’d stocked some for him. “You’ll enjoy your business more if it doesn’t strangle all your time. Sherry Bellows, that’s the new high school teacher, isn’t it? I met her and her dog a few weeks ago out at the minimart. Seems like a bundle of energy.”

“That was my impression.”

“In a very attractive package.” He grinned and sipped his beer when Tory merely lifted her brows. “Just thinking of you, darling. An attractive clerk is a business asset. You think she’ll wear those little shorts?”

“No,” Tory said firmly. “I don’t.”

“Bound to draw a lot of male customers if you let that be her uniform. That’s a girl with very nice pins.”

“Pins. Hmmm. Well, she and her pins depend on how her references check out. But I imagine they will.” Tory swept up the last of the debris, dumped it in the trash. “That seems to be the best that can be done.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes.” She crossed the room to put away the broom and dustpan. “Considerably. And I’m very grateful for the help.”

“I’m always open to gratitude.”

She took the pitcher from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass of iced tea. “The bedroom closet’s not very big, but I made some room. And there’s an empty drawer in the dresser.”

He said nothing, only drank his beer. Waited.

“You wanted to be able to have some of your things here, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“So.”

“So?”

“We’re not living together.” She set down her glass. “I’ve never lived with anyone, and that’s not what this is.”

“All right.”

“But if you’re going to be spending so much time here, you might as well have a place for some of your things.”

“Very practical.”

“Oh, go to hell.” But there wasn’t any heat in the response.

“You’re not supposed to smile when you say that.” He set his beer aside, then slid his arms around her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dancing. I never took you dancing. It’s something people who aren’t really living together ought to do now and then.”

It was an old, shuffling number with a boy asking a girl to stand by him when the land was dark.

“Are you trying to be charming?”

“I don’t have to try. It’s just part of my makeup.” He dipped her, made her laugh.

“Very smooth.”

“All those miserable hours of cotillion had to pay off.”

“Poor little rich boy.” She rested her head on his shoulder and let herself enjoy the dance, the feel of him against her, the scent of him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“When I was driving home tonight, I was thinking of you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And I was thinking, so far he’s made all the moves. I let him because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to make any of my own, or counter any of his. It was sort of easy to be…”

“Maneuvered?”

“I suppose. And I was thinking, I just wonder how Kincade Lavelle would react if I got home and I fixed us a nice supper.”

“He’d have appreciated that.”

“Yes, well, some other time. That part of the thought process didn’t pan out. But there was this second part.”

“Which was?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder, met his eyes. “How would Kincade Lavelle react if after that, once we were all relaxed and quiet, just what would he do if I set out to seduce him?”

“Well…” was all he could manage as she pressed closer, ran her hands intimately down his hips. The stirring in his blood was a not-so-quiet delight. “I think the least I can do, as a gentleman, is let you find out.”

This time it was she who unfastened buttons, his shirt, then her own. She laid her lips over his heart, on the warm skin and vibrant beat.

“I’ve had your taste with me since the first time you kissed me.” While her lips played over him, she eased the shirt away. “I can bring tastes back, and I’ve done that with yours so many times already.”

She trailed her hands over his chest, his belly—a quiver—up to his shoulders. Such broad, tough shoulders. “I like the feel of you. Long, hard muscles. It excites me. And your hands, roughened from work, riding over me.” She peeled her shirt open, and let it fall to the floor to join his. Watching him, she unhooked her bra, let it slide away.

“Touch me now.”

He cupped her breasts in his hands, the warm, soft
weight of them, skimmed the nipples with the edges of his thumbs.

“Yes, like that.” Her head fell back as heat balled in her belly. “Exactly like that. My insides go liquid when you touch me. Can you see it?” Her eyes, long and dark, met his. “I want…”

“Tell me.”

She moistened her lips, reached for the button of his jeans. His hands flexed on her, one hard caress. “I want to feel what you feel. I want what’s inside you inside me. I’ve never tried that with anyone else. Never wanted to. Will you let me?”

He bent his head, rubbed his lips over hers. “Take what you want.”

It was a risk. She would be open, gaping, so much more defenseless than he. But she wanted it, all of it, and that exquisite bond of trust.

Once more she lay her lips on him, and opened mind, heart, body.

It was a bolt, a lightning strike, the power of those coupled needs, images. His desire, layered and tangled inside her with her own. It slashed through her, dark, bright, swollen with energy. Her head snapped back from the punch of it, and she came in one long erotic gush.