Conspiracy Game (31 page)

“Doesn’t that bother you? What he did to us? You don’t have to even like me as a person, Jack. All that matters is having sex together.”

He reached for her hand, held it close to his chest, rubbing her skin with his thumb. “I’ve got news for you, Briony. Most men are just fine with that.”

She yanked her hand away. “So I found out.” Hunching one shoulder, she turned on her side. “Isn’t there another bedroom where I can sleep?”

“No. You can sleep in here. I have to be able to watch over you.”

That low note of command was back in his voice, the one that grated on her nerves and implied that he was in complete control, while she was a victim of her runaway hormones.

“Do you ever ask?”

Jack didn’t know why her sarcasm made him want to smile. “No. What would be the point? You’re so tired, Briony, you don’t know what you’re doing or saying anymore. I’m not about to let anything happen to you. If you’d rather I sat in a chair all night, I will, but it won’t change how we’re both feeling.”

“You don’t know anything about my feelings.”

Exasperated, he caught her hand and forced it between his legs, over the thick bulge pulsing with heat and urgent need. “It’s not going to matter a damn whether I’m sitting six feet from you, in the next room, or lying beside you. This isn’t going to go away until I’m buried deep inside of you where I belong.” He let go of her hand, nearly shoving it away from him. “Now go to sleep before I forget all my good intentions and get a little relief.”

Again Briony surprised him. He expected tears—or anger at his rough response, but she laughed softly. “There’s some comfort in knowing I’m not the only one suffering.”

“You don’t have to. You give me the word and we’ll both be sleeping like babies.” If she said no, he might have no recourse but to head for the shower as soon as possible and relieve the terrible ache. It would be fast and cheap and unsatisfying, but hell, he was going to explode. And he had the sinking feeling the solution wouldn’t last more than the next lungful of air he drew.

“I think a little suffering is good for your soul,” Briony said.

Her voice was muffled in the pillow, but he was absolutely certain she was laughing at him. Jack contented himself with smacking her on her pretty little rounded ass, and was more than satisfied when she yelped and glared at him. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of her body naked, stretched under his while he drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t embarrassed himself since he was twelve, but tonight might start a new phase in his life. Even with his physical discomfort, there was something right about lying beside her, having her close enough to hear her breathing and touch her soft skin—just to know she was there.

He heard her even breathing, slow and rhythmic, and knew she’d finally drifted off. Turning on his side, wrapping his body protectively around hers, he pushed his throbbing groin against the curve of her buttocks, one arm around her, his hand splayed over her stomach to hold their child as he allowed himself to drift into a light sleep.

C
HAPTER 
12

B
riony
wandered through the large house, surprised by how spacious it was. The ceilings were high and the rooms open, one running into the next. The house itself was shaped in a U, the kitchen, dining room, and great room separating the two wings. She peeked into the rooms in Jack’s wing and found only his bedroom and the bathroom finished. The second bedroom was still under construction, with the walls bare Sheetrock.

In the great room, the furniture was sparse but well made, and she examined it closely, running her hand along the large, wide sofa, remembering Jack admitting that he made all of the furniture. It was beautiful, as were the other pieces, all made of the same hardwood. She didn’t know if it was milled from their own trees, but she suspected it was. The cushions were thick and made of leather, obviously custom-made to fit each piece of furniture. Jack continually surprised her.

She followed the rich aroma of fresh coffee into the spacious kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw the stranger sitting at the table. Even from the back, he looked like Jack, but there was a subtle difference in his scent. She stood in the doorway, reluctant to intrude.

He turned his head and smiled at her. “You must be Briony. Come in and have some breakfast.”

He looked like Jack—not as hard, but far more ravaged. The scars marring his skin looked painful and deep, but somehow he managed to look not only confident—but good-looking in a rough pirate sort of way.

He stood up and crossed to the sink. “Coffee or orange juice with breakfast? I’d choose coffee if I were you. Jack’s already handing out orders about what you can and can’t have. It may be the last time you get close enough to even smell a cup of coffee in a while.”

She laughed. “Both then.” It was difficult not to stare at him, and she didn’t know if it was his resemblance to Jack or the scars. Although Ken was much more mutilated, she recognized the patterns and symmetry of his scarring, so much like those on Jack’s body. “Where is he?”

“Left for town before sunup. I think he’s buying clothes, groceries, and making you a doctor’s appointment.” He grinned at her as he held out a chair. “I’d love to be a little fly on the wall when they try to tell him he has to wait a week or two to get you in.”

“Want to make a bet whether or not I’ll be going today?”

“Hell no. Jack has no social skills. If they give him a hard time, he’s liable to pull out a knife this big”—he measured a foot with his hands—“and start cleaning his fingernails. If he wants you seen by a doctor today, you will be.”

Briony sank into the chair. “He didn’t say anything about a doctor to me.”

“You’ll get used to him. He doesn’t talk much. He’s more of a man of action. He muttered something about prenatal care while he was drinking his coffee. I didn’t know he knew what prenatal was.” Ken placed a plate of food in front of her. “I’m not the best cook, but it’s food.”

Briony laughed again. “He definitely takes charge. And the food looks good.”

Ken lifted his coffee cup, the smile fading from his eyes. “Jack’s always had to be in charge, and that won’t change. He’s a strong man, and he knows what he can and can’t have in his life to stay balanced.”

“Just say whatever it is you need to say,” Briony encouraged.

“Don’t push him too hard. And don’t hurt him.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “That’s it? That’s the best you can do? I was expecting wisdom, something to make sense of all this, but that’s no help.” She ran her fingers through her unruly hair. “Give me something else.”

Ken glanced right and left and leaned over the table. “He’s bossy,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“He’s a dictator,” Briony corrected. “Don’t try to soft-soap it for me. You should hear the man throwing out orders left and right.”

Ken smirked. “At least now he can order you around instead of me. I owe you for that.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m betting he has plenty for both of us.”

“You have no idea.”

There was a short silence, a little awkward in spite of the fact that both of them were trying. Briony took a deep breath and forced a smile. “What are you working on today? Can I help?”

“I’m tiling one of the bathrooms. As you may have noticed, only a few rooms are actually finished. We’ve been taking our time and trying to get each room exactly how we want it. Jack wants to start on the second bedroom in his wing so by the time you have the baby, the room will be ready for it.”

Briony shook her head. “Don’t go to a lot of trouble and expense. I’ll be able to protect the baby after it’s born. It’s just now, when they come at me, I worry they’ll hurt the baby, and as I get bigger, I’ll probably get slower. I’m not asking Jack to take on the responsibility forever.”

“Is Jack the baby’s father or not?” Ken asked, his gray eyes darkening, reminding Briony of thunderclouds.

“Jack’s definitely the father, but I can understand why you’d ask. I’m not trying to trap him, Ken.” Briony felt dark color creeping up her skin.

“I asked because you don’t seem to understand my brother. He’ll
never
walk away from you or the baby. You’re in his life now. It won’t always be pleasant or easy, but he’ll protect both of you with his life. He’ll make certain you have everything you could ever need—or want—because that’s the kind of man he is.”

“I know he’s honorable,” she conceded. She couldn’t very well blurt out she wanted more than sex from Jack. She wanted to be loved. She wanted him to love her child, not just feel responsible. Of course Jack would take care of them. His code of honor dictated that he give them his best—but his code wasn’t his heart.

Ken tapped the table with his finger, a small rhythm that told her volumes. She studied his face, the gentleness there, the concern, the flicker of unease.

“Jack is… different—extraordinary, but different. It would take a very special woman to live with those differences,” Ken said.

“You admire him.”

“I know him.” He leaned back in his chair, legs sprawled out in front of him. “Most people don’t. You’ll be living here a long time, Briony. My advice is to get to know him.”

It was heartbreaking to stare into the man’s ravaged face when he looked so like Jack. Not broken, not unbending—just accepting, as if he took whatever fate threw at him in stride and lived the best he could. That was Jack—and it was apparently his brother too. Briony ducked her head to keep those piercing eyes from reading her expression. She felt at home here. It made no sense, but these men, this house—all of it felt right to her.

Restless, she stood up and crossed to the window. “Is the yard really booby-trapped? I’d like to be able to walk around outside. It’s so beautiful.”

She heard the chair scrape. No footsteps. For such stocky men, the Norton twins walked softly, but she caught his scent as he neared her—almost the same as Jack’s, but with that strange, subtle difference. His hand came over her shoulder with a piece of paper in it.

“My orders,” he said.

She took the paper and read the words scrawled in a masculine hand across the sheet. She spun around to face him. “He made you get rid of them all?” For some reason the vise gripping her heart so hard began to ease.

“Every last one, which, I might point out, he insisted we put there in the first place, the jackass. He dragged my butt out of bed at four-thirty this morning to do it too.” He grinned at her. “I’m usually much better looking, but he robbed me of my beauty sleep.”

Briony burst out laughing. “I slept in. It’s almost noon.”

“Little slacker. You just didn’t want me to put you to work.” He winked at her. “Now that I’m thinking about it, can you cook? Because my brother leaves a bit to be desired in that department.”

Briony instinctively turned her head. Ken had known all along, but she didn’t feel him until his scent reached her.
Jack
. She breathed his name in her mind. Soft. Intimate. Before she could think, before she could stop.

Jack.
That soft sigh of his name was enough. Walking in, hearing the laughter, the easy banter between Ken and Briony had nearly stopped his heart.
Jack
. The sound of his name brushing along the walls of her mind, almost as if she cherished him, gave him peace, made him a part of that laughter, brought him into a secret world of true intimacy between a man and a woman—one he’d never experienced.