Heart of Gold (12 page)

She turned to him with a look of near desperation and breathed his name. Shane needed no more invitation than that. He rolled Faith beneath him and kneeled between her thighs as he took care of protection. An instant later he was sinking into her embrace—the embrace of her arms and the embrace of her womanhood. Lifting her hips into his, she accepted him gradually, her tight warmth closing around him, welcoming him. He closed his eyes for a moment savoring the sensation of sweet bliss.

He loved her tenderly, gently, with slow, deep strokes that seemed to reach to the very heart of her. Faith held him, moved with him, letting her love for him pour out of her every way she could without actually speaking the words. She let her body tell him with each caress, with each sigh. And this time, when the end came for them both, the tears that filled her eyes were tears of love.

Shane turned onto his back and settled Faith against his side with her head pillowed on his good shoulder. He was exhausted, spent, which was to be expected, but there were other feelings he hadn’t expected. Rightness, comfort, and a fullness in his chest he refused to name.

He had sought physical release in Faith’s arms. He had told himself this would be only to ease the restless ache in his gut and to give Faith a few hours of escape from her worries. He hadn’t expected the sweetness, the warmth this completion had brought. In giving him her body, Faith had given him much more. In her arms he had felt peace and tenderness and understanding.

For one unguarded moment he let himself wonder what it would be like to take what she offered—a haven, salvation, a place to rest and heal a world-weary heart. The thought of it was so beautiful, so tempting, it was frightening.

“I never knew,” Faith whispered, her breath warm against his cooling skin. “In twelve years of marriage, I never knew anything like this.”

Silently Shane cursed the bastard who had married this gentle, giving woman only to further his career. William Gerrard deserved to be imprisoned for that alone.

His hand came up to stroke her hair possessively. “Why did you stay with him?” he asked, fighting to keep the harsh edge from his voice. “Did you love him?”

“At first,” she said with a sad smile. “William can be very charming when it suits him. He swept me off my feet. Then, after he won his Senate seat and we moved to Washington, his interest in me waned. I blamed his job. I blamed myself. Eventually I got around to blaming William, but I made the mistake of believing he could change, that I could change him. I couldn’t.”

“Twelve years is a long time to spend trying to change somebody.”

“Oh, I’d given up hope on him long before that.”

“Then why did you stay with the bastard?” At one time he might have suspected her of marrying Gerrard for his money or for the glamour or power, but no such suspicions surfaced now. He had come to trust Faith as he trusted very few people.

“Because I’d taken a vow,” she said, feeling both foolish and defensive. “I’d pledged to be his wife for better or worse. I believe in those vows. I know that sounds old-fashioned, but I do.”

Shane wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The cynic in him labeled her naive, but if she had been naive, she was also good and honest and sincere. Those were qualities he’d seen precious little of in the last few years. It made him feel old and jaded now to lie there with this treasure of a woman in his arms. He didn’t deserve the chance to touch her, but damned if he could stay away from her.

The only thing he could offer her was protection from the man who had so callously used her. And that Shane pledged to her and to himself. “He’ll never hurt you again, Faith. I’ll see to it.”

EIGHT

F
AITH STUDIED SHANE’S
face in the soft light of predawn. He frowned even in his sleep. She reached out and gently rubbed at the line between his dark eyebrows with the pad of her thumb, and a wave of love swept through her as he grumbled and tried to snuggle closer.

He’d been such a tender lover. Insatiable but tender, and considerate of their difference in size and of her lack of experience. She imagined Shane had been called many things in his time, and tender was probably not at the head of the list; but he had been tender with her, and she loved him for it.

Carefully, skillfully he had shown her fulfillment as she had never known it. He’d coaxed her away from inhibitions and uncertainties. He’d made her acutely aware of her femininity and her potential for sensuality. As they had made love, the cynical man had faded away, leaving a man she wanted to give her heart to, a sensitive man with musician’s hands and the soul of a poet.

When he opened his eyes and looked across the pillow at her, Faith knew she had to tell him. It might have been safer to say nothing. Shane would no doubt have preferred she say nothing. But she couldn’t keep this love to herself. Her heart was overflowing with it. There was every chance he wouldn’t accept it, but Faith knew she had to offer it to him nevertheless.

“I want to tell you something,” she whispered, lifting her hand to touch his beard-roughened cheek.

Shane turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “What?”

“I love you.”

Nothing had prepared Shane for the feelings that rushed through him at those words. The power of it was stunning … and terrifying. He raised up on one elbow and looked down at Faith, his ready argument against emotional entanglement sticking in his throat like a tennis ball.

Lord, she was so pretty, so sweet, and everything that was in her heart was in her eyes as well.

Longing surged within him to battle with logic. He couldn’t let this happen. He had drawn the line, set the rules of their relationship for a reason. They couldn’t step across that line. It wasn’t safe.

“Faith, no—”

She silenced his denial with two slender fingers pressed to his lips. “I know it’s not something you wanted to hear, Shane. I don’t expect you to respond in kind. But you said you wanted us to be honest about our feelings up front, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Faith, I—we—damn.” He bit back a sigh. This was certainly proving his point. His emotions were short-circuiting his brain. All he wanted to do was look down at her. She was so lovely, so fragile, like something made of fine porcelain. He touched her cheek as if to assure himself she was indeed real. Then his fingers trailed down to her throat to brush across the gold heart she wore. When he spoke again, he chose his words carefully. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her. “Honey, you’re in a high-stress situation. I’m here to protect you. We’re attracted to each other. What you’re feeling—”

“Is love,” Faith said, heading him off at the pass.

“It’s—”

“Love,” she insisted, her delicate brows lowering over her eyes. The hardheaded man. He may not have appreciated the sentiment, but she wasn’t about to let him talk her out of it either. “I know what’s in my own heart, Shane. I can’t say I was very happy about it when I first figured it out, but I can’t deny it either. I love you whether we like it or not.”

A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of Faith’s lips as she took in Shane’s dark expression. She’d been right in thinking he wouldn’t want the love she offered, the love he needed, the love she needed to give. Being right was small consolation, but the struggle he seemed to be waging within himself gave life to a spark of hope. Maybe, if they could just have a little time together, maybe …

Maybe what, Faith, she asked herself. Maybe Shane would change, the way she had believed William would change? Maybe they could live happily ever after? Maybe she was being a fool.

“I have to go back to my room,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes. She blinked them back determinedly. “Lindy will be getting up soon. I just wanted you to know how I feel. We can have a few weeks together; I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. But if you decide you want more, we can have more.”

We can have forever, she added silently.

She started to turn away from him to slide out of bed, but Shane’s big hand on her shoulder stopped her. Without saying a word, he bent down and settled his mouth against hers in a hot, deep kiss, a kiss of raw, primitive possession. He swept a hand down her side to her hip to steady her as he kneed her thighs apart and eased into her with one slow thrust. Faith moaned at the feel of him filling her. Automatically her hips lifted to make his entrance easier.

“This is what I can give you, Faith,” he murmured darkly against her lips as his body moved against her and within her, seeking the mind-numbing solace he found only with her.

Faith wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, riding out the storm of passion with him and praying there would be something left of her heart when it was all over.

“Mama, I want toast,” Lindy announced, kneeling on her chair at the kitchen table, her place setting overrun with tiny plastic dinosaurs.

“Yes, sweetie, I know,” Faith said. She was trying simultaneously to handle the coffee maker and the toaster while keeping one eye on the eggs that were cooking on the stove.

“I’ll do the coffee,” Alaina volunteered as she and Jayne entered the room. She took the pot from Faith’s slightly trembling hand, giving her friend a sharp, speculative glance. “You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

Faith felt her cheeks flush instantly. She’d hardly slept a wink, but the reason had nothing to do with insomnia. “Um—I’m all right,” she mumbled.

Blast it, couldn’t she be a little more sophisticated? Did she have to blush as if Alaina had come right out and asked if she’d just spent the last six hours between the sheets with Shane Callan? And for heaven’s sake, she was a grown woman. It wasn’t as if Shane was the first man she’d ever gone to bed with.

He was the second.

He was the only man she’d ever made love with in the truest sense of the term—whether he admitted his heart was involved or not. She had to believe it was. Nothing that beautiful had ever come from simple physical need.

“Mama, can I have my toast now?”

“Yes, Lindy, I’m coming.” She put her daughter’s breakfast on a plate and dropped it off at the table on her way to check the eggs.

Lindy made a face and lifted one square of bread by the corner. “I don’t want this kind.”

“It’s the only kind we have.”

“I want the kind with raisins.”

“We’re all out of the raisin kind.”

“Can we go to the beach today?”

“No, honey, not today,” Faith said, sighing, putting the teakettle on to heat. “Mama’s got work to do.”

“Work, work, work,” Lindy grumbled, folding her toast in half and mushing it with her fist. “All grown-ups ever do is work.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, sugar plum,” Jayne said, pausing in her task of pouring orange juice to lean across the table and tweak Lindy’s nose. “Grown-ups have fun sometimes too, don’t we, Faith?”

Faith couldn’t have looked more guilty had she been wearing a sign around her neck that spelled out “strumpet” in big glossy red letters. “Who, me?”

Alaina’s mouth lifted in a wry smile as she leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. “I believe the question was rhetorical, not accusatory. At any rate, most kinds of fun aren’t against the law, are they, Mr. Callan?”

If Faith’s cheeks had been red before, they were fuchsia now as she looked up and her gaze collided with Shane’s. He strolled into the kitchen looking impossibly handsome in black jeans and a gray polo shirt, his black hair glistening, wet from his shower. It seemed to Faith the look in his eyes was blatantly male and possessive as he came toward her. He didn’t even glance at Alaina when he answered her.

“Like you said, counselor, a rhetorical question.”

He stopped within inches of Faith—too close for his own sanity—and lifted a hand to brush his knuckles against her cheek. He had told himself in the shower that he was going to take a step back from her, cool things off a little so she could get some perspective. But his stern, cold dictates had vaporized the instant he’d walked into the kitchen. It seemed his knack for detachment couldn’t hold a candle to Faith’s appeal. Looking at her now, all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and carry her back to bed. If he hadn’t been dimly aware of their captive audience, he would have done just that.

Dammit, she brought every primitive feeling he had rushing to the surface. Every time he got within three feet of her he felt more like a caveman than a man with an Ivy League education. When Faith looked up at him the way she was doing now, her big brown eyes all soft and shining, he felt as if he were going to go up in smoke—not unlike the pan of scrambled eggs on the stove.

“Faith?”

“Hmmm?” she asked as the air seeped out of her lungs. During the long night her body had become very well acquainted with Shane’s, to the point that the slightest signal from him could set off every sensual alarm she had. At the moment her whole body was humming. It was a wonder she even heard him.

“Your eggs are burning,” he said with a devastatingly soft, sexy smile.

“They’re not the only thing,” Jayne mumbled from her ringside seat. Alaina shushed her as she slid down on a chair.

Faith’s eyes rounded in shock as she turned back to her smoking pan. She yanked it off the burner and tossed the contents with a spatula to see if the food was salvageable.

“I don’t want any eggs, Mama,” Lindy announced as she toddled across the floor to take Shane by the hand. She sent him her sunny smile. “Come and have some toast, Shane. I’m sorry it’s not the kind with raisins.”

Faith managed to sit through a half hour of breakfast conversation without finishing a single piece of raisinless toast. While her friends discussed the errands they had to run and Lindy lobbied Shane for another day at the beach, Faith sipped her tea and fidgeted.

She wasn’t quite certain how she was supposed to act. She’d never had a lover before. Including her husband, she added ruefully. One night with Shane made twelve years with William Gerrard pale in comparison.

“Earth to Faith. Earth to Faith,” Jayne called across the table, waving a hand back and forth in front of her.

Faith jerked to attention, blushing furiously. “What? I’m sorry.”

“And I thought I was the flake of the Fearsome Foursome!” Jayne drawled, shaking her head. She stared into Faith’s eyes and spoke very distinctly, as if English were Faith’s second language. “Honey, what are your plans for the day?”

“Oh, um, I’ve got book work to do, then I thought I’d put the finishing touches on the captain’s suite and some of the other guest rooms.”

“We could go to the beach,” Lindy suggested hopefully.

“Not today, Lindy,” Faith said firmly, pinning her daughter with a stern look. “Now I don’t want to hear another word about it. If you’re finished with your breakfast, go brush your teeth.”

Sullen, Lindy gathered up her herd of plastic dinosaurs and slid down off her chair. She made the most of her exit, giving her mother a disappointed, teary-eyed glare. “When I’m a mama, I’m gonna take my babies to the beach
every
day!”

Faith heaved a sigh, propping her chin in one hand and letting the other fall to the tabletop. “Great. Now I’m Attila the Mom.”

Shane reached over and gave her hand a squeeze, a move that drew not only Faith’s surprised gaze but Jayne’s and Alaina’s as well. They all stared at him, slack-jawed. Hell, Shane thought, he was shocked himself, but the action had been automatic. It felt like the right thing to do, and he was a man who usually trusted his instincts. Swallowing down his confusion, he said, “She’ll get over it.”

The smile of appreciation Faith sent him hit him like a hammer between the eyes. Lord, what was the matter with him? All this woman had to do was glance at him and he damn near forgot who he was and what he was doing. And who was he to offer sage advice? What the hell did he know about kids, anyway? Nothing. He had no business offering advice. He had no business getting involved with Faith and her daughter at all. He was there to do a job.

Abruptly he pushed his chair back from the table and stood. “I’ve got rounds to make,” he said, suddenly all businesslike. “I have to check with my men on the perimeter.”

“You might want to look in on Mr. Matthews in the caretaker’s cottage,” Alaina suggested dryly. “I think he and Mr. Fitz are on the brink of divorce.”

“I think their karmas clash,” Jayne said.

Shane didn’t so much as crack a smile. He started to turn away, but Faith’s voice stopped him.

“Shane,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

She watched him struggle to mask confused emotions. His granite will won out, and he merely gave her a curt nod, then strode purposefully out of the room. The silence he left in his wake was almost painful.

Finally Jayne cleared her throat and said delicately, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, honey, but I think we just witnessed a very significant moment.”

Faith’s only answer was another delicate blush. How was she supposed to explain what was going on between Shane and herself when even she wasn’t certain where they were headed?

Alaina’s expression was a cross between wary and worried. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved with him.”

“I don’t seem to have a choice,” Faith said, staring at the door Shane had left through. “I’m in love with him.”

The captain’s suite was Faith’s favorite room in the inn. Located on the second floor of the Victorian part of the house, Captain Dugan’s bedroom had a large window that overlooked the ocean and allowed the afternoon sun to spill in. The furniture in the room was big and masculine—a massive mahogany bed with a flat canopy of cream-and-black brocade, marble-topped tables, an enormous chest of drawers, a regal-looking William and Mary arm chair with a black velvet seat cushion.