Wait Until Dark (9 page)

His fingers bit into her shoulders, his worried stare delved inside her. "Are you hurt?"

Mutely, she shook her head.

He gathered her close, his embrace tightening as if to offer her his strength. "Tell me what happened."

She was too strung out to censor her words. She simply poured out the entire story, omitting nothing. "I don't think it was an accident," she concluded.

"I agree. Accidents like that don't just happen."

Lindsey swallowed. "Stuart and Tracy both knew I was going back to the manor tonight. They were the only ones I told."

"Not quite." Nicholas drew back, tipping up her chin with his forefinger. "You also told me. I was at that lunch, too, remember? Which means I could just as easily have rigged the scaffolding as Tracy or Stuart. I could also have been part of their whole lunch setup. Don't forget, if you caved in to Stuart's wishes, you'd sell me the manor, and I'd get to build my condos there. I've been torturing myself about that since we left the restaurant, wondering if I was back on your list of suspects. I need an answer - now more than ever. Do you think I'm involved? Or do you know in your heart I'd never hurt you?"

She shook her head slowly, seeing the anguish on Nicholas's face and wanting to erase it. "I know you'd never hurt me," she replied softly. "This morning when I said I trusted you, I meant it. When I heard your voice on the phone just now, I almost wept with relief. All I wanted was to run to you - for help, for comfort. I don't know why, but - "

"Don't you?" His tone was husky now, his expression still intense, but in an entirely different way. "Funny, I know exactly why."

He cupped her face and slowly lowered his head, giving her more than enough time to pull away. She didn't. She rose up to meet him, tiny shivers rippling through her as his mouth covered hers. The kiss was deep and drugging, Nicholas's lips nudging hers apart, wasting no time on preliminaries, demanding what she was more than willing to give. Whatever reservations she harbored based on who he was, how he'd lived, none of them mattered now. All she wanted was to lose herself in this unnamed emotion that had been building between them from the moment they'd met. She was tired of fighting. She just wanted to feel.

Nicholas sensed the change in her instantly, knew she'd abandoned her emotional suit of armor. His fingers sifted through her hair, tightened around the nape of her neck and, with a discernible effort, he dragged his mouth away, raised his head. "Lindsey." His eyes were smoky with passion, his breathing unsteady. "You've got to want this.
Really
want this. Not only to escape. And not only for tonight. Once we're together - I don't plan to let you go."

"That's convenient," she murmured, a soft smile touching her lips. "Because I'm staying at your house." Her hands glided up his shirtfront, slid around his neck. "And tonight, so are you."

He caught her wrist, brought her palm to his lips. "You're sure?"

She knew exactly what he was asking. This wouldn't be a one-night stand. It would be a whole lot more. "Very."

Without another word, he scooped her into his arms and headed purposefully toward the stairs. Those he took two at a time, rounding the landing and veering toward the master bedroom. He laid her on his bed, following her down and capturing her mouth for another hungry, searching kiss. He paused only long enough to drag her T-shirt over her head and throw it carelessly to the carpeted floor.

"I've wanted this from the first moment I saw you," he muttered, burning a trail of kisses down her throat, his fingers shifting to unhook the front clasp of her bra. "Keeping my hands off you has been hell."

He pushed the scrap of silk aside, visually drinking her in for a brief minute before lowering his head, surrounding one taut nipple with his lips. Lindsey gasped at the jolt of pleasure that speared through her, arching reflexively closer. He anchored her with his arm, brought her more fully to his mouth, and began an unbearable rhythm that drove her wild. His tongue lashed across her nipple, his lips tugged and released, tugged and released, until Lindsey heard herself cry out, her loins clenching tighter with each pull of his lips.

"Nicholas." Blindly, she reached for him, yanking at his shirt until he sat up, tore it off and threw it aside, then drew her up and against him.

Lindsey's breath caught in her throat. The contact was excruciating, his bare skin against hers, and she rubbed herself against him, her nipples contracting further at the warm, abrasive feel of his chest hair rasping across her skin. Her head came up, and she stared at him in wonder, seeing the heat in his eyes, the muscle working violently in his jaw. He wanted her every bit as much as he'd said. And he was trying to slow down, for her sake.

His palm slid around the nape of her neck, and he brought her mouth back to his, kissing her deeply as he lowered her to the bed. He unzipped her jeans, hooked his fingers inside her panties, and pulled them both down and off, taking her socks and shoes with them. His hands skimmed up her legs, caressed her thighs, his palm covering the tawny nest between them. His fingers eased lower, slipping inside her and touching her in a way that nearly brought her off the bed.

Lindsey's heart was slamming against her ribs, her body drunk on sensation. Vaguely, she wondered if it was always this wonderful. She doubted it. There was something electric between her and Nicholas. Something that made her lose her mind.

Lose her mind... God, she was being careless.

That awareness triggered a semblance of reason, and she acted on it now, before reason slipped entirely away.

"Nicholas?" Even as she spoke, her hips were lifting, seeking more of his touch. His fingers responded to her unconscious plea, gliding in and out in a prolonged, tantalizing rhythm, his thumb caressing her just where she needed him most.

"You're perfect," he told her fiercely, those amazing eyes blazing with desire, sweat dotting his forehead as he watched her face.

"I... not yet... wait..." she managed, barely able to speak.

"I can't." He stopped only long enough to yank off the rest of his clothes. "I want to, but I can't." He settled himself between her legs, bracing his arms on either side of her head. "Next time, I'll go slower. This time - " He must have seen the reservation in her eyes, because, with a supreme effort, he stopped. "What is it?"

"I'm not taking anything."

A flash of self-deprecating amazement crossed his face. "Lindsey, I'm sorry. Damn, this isn't something I forget." Leaning past her, he hauled open his night table drawer, groped around until he found a box of condoms. He pulled one out, dealing with it with the expertise of a man who was used to doing so. Vaguely, she realized that the implications of that should bother her. They didn't. Somehow she knew what the two of them had together was different.

She studied his body as he loomed over her. He was all power and sheer masculine beauty, and her palms explored him, feeling the hot, hair-roughened texture of his chest, the corded muscles of his shoulders and arms.

He shuddered beneath her touch, moved urgently back into position. "I want you," he ground out, pressing her into the pillows. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and he lifted her legs to hug his flanks. "I'm about to explode. That's how much I want you." He kissed her again, his tongue taking hers as his body began its penetration.

Her body was screaming for his. She wrapped her arms around his back, and her eyes slid shut as she felt him crowd into her. His hands gripped her bottom, angling her toward him and, with one hard thrust, he pushed all the way inside.

They both felt the resistance give, but Lindsey was so lost in sensation she scarcely winced.

Nicholas was another story. He froze. "Lindsey?"

"Don't stop," she protested weakly. Her nails dug into his back, and she urged him on, shifting to ease his way inside her.

His breath emerged in a hiss, but he fought the instinctive motion of his hips, which were already propelling him deeper. He turned his lips into her hair, his words a harsh rasp of sound. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Later," she whispered. "Please."

Nicholas sucked in his breath, the muscles in his arms bulging with the strain of holding back.

"Please," she repeated. "I'm dying. Make love to me."

It was enough.

"I'll go slowly if it kills me," he vowed in a voice that was thick with passion. He circled his hips against hers, giving her a taste of what was to be. "Which it might."

He withdrew, pressed forward one tantalizing inch at a time. But Lindsey would have none of it. She wanted the pleasure that hovered just out of reach, and she wanted it now.

Instinct guided her. She arched when he pushed, forced their bodies into a deeper joining. She knew the instant Nicholas's control snapped, because a hard tremor racked his body, dragging her name from his lips. His fingers bit into her thighs and his strokes became fast, deep, driving him farther and farther into her clinging passage.

Lindsey couldn't breathe, the pleasure was so intense.

She just clung to him, matched his rhythm, and felt her body coil tighter and tighter as it escalated toward an unknown pinnacle of sensation.

She found that pinnacle, and she heard herself cry out Nicholas's name as her body unraveled in a series of pulsing contractions too exquisite to bear.

Nicholas went rigid, pushing into each rhythmic spasm, letting her body milk his until holding back became an impossibility.

He came powerfully, his orgasm as overwhelming as hers, and he threw back his head, grinding out her name through clenched teeth as he gave in to the sensation.

He collapsed on top of her, too exhausted to move, blanketing her with his weight for long, languorous minutes.

At last, he managed to lift himself away, rolling onto his back and pulling her against him. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, unsteady.

She nodded, even that gesture almost too difficult to muster. "Very okay."

His lips brushed her hair. "Why?"

"Which why? Why was I a virgin? Or why didn't I tell you?"

"Both."

Lindsey swallowed. This wasn't easy to talk about. Her mother's life, the way it had impacted her own, the decisions she'd subsequently made - she wasn't sure anyone who hadn't experienced her background could understand. But she had to try. Nicholas deserved an answer.

"Why was I a virgin? An emotional reason, not a moral one. After seeing what my mother went through - letting her involvement with a man ruin her life - let's say I've always kept men at arm's length. Until now. Why didn't I tell you? I guess it never occurred to me that it would make a difference. Does it?"

"Yes," Nicholas returned fervently. "I said I'd never hurt you. I did."

She smiled, propping herself on one elbow and gazing at him. "I forgive you. You were wonderful."

"So were you." He drew her mouth down to his, kissed her tenderly. "I meant it, Lindsey. I don't intend to let you go."

"I don't want to go," she heard herself say.

An odd expression crossed his face. "I never expected this. But I'm beginning to think Harlan did. In fact, I think he was counting on it."

Lindsey blinked. "You think he wanted us together?"

"The more I consider it - yes, that's exactly what I think. Now that I remember some of the comments he made, some of the conversations we had with Leland... I never gave them much thought before, but now that I do, it makes sense. Your father was a brilliant, tactical man. He never did anything that wasn't part of some bigger plan. My guess is, you and I are part of that plan."

She tucked the sheet around her, sat up. "You'd better explain."

"Yes, I'd better." Nicholas pushed himself to a sitting position, and drew Lindsey around to face him. "I wasn't ready to talk about this yet. But, under the circumstances - what's happening between us, that supposed accident at the manor - my subtle poking around is no longer enough. Not when I believe the threats on your life and Harlan's concerns are related."

Lindsey gave an exasperated shrug. "Nicholas, you're talking in riddles."

"Not anymore. It's time I filled in the blanks. You wanted to know my agenda? Well, here it is."

11

LINDSEY WATCHED NICHOLAS'S EXPRESSION
,
knowing in her heart that what she was about to hear was going to greatly impact her frame of reference, if not her life.

She wasn't wrong.

"I told you how I felt about Harlan," Nicholas began. "He was like a father to me. We were very close, closer in some ways than he was with Stuart or Tracy. Oh, he was crazy about his kids. But neither of them thought quite the way he did. Our minds were very much in sync. Between that and the fact that he needed an impartial ear, he opened up to me about several things. One of those things was his children." Nicholas frowned, staring off into space. "Harlan had a heart condition, a bad one. The last year of his life, it deteriorated to the point where even his medication didn't help. He knew he was living on borrowed time. Unfortunately, so did Stuart and Tracy."

"Why unfortunately?" Lindsey asked, puzzled. "I'd think they'd want to know so they could spend as much time with him as possible."
Time I never had,
she added silently to herself.

"They did. Stuart was glued to his father's side, and Tracy came in from Boston for half a week at a time. But it wasn't the gentle time of closure it should have been. The three of them argued, constantly. The doctor cautioned Harlan to keep calm, but something about his kids was eating him up inside. I tried to get him to talk to me, but he wouldn't. Not until the end. The week before he died, he called me into his office, said he was changing the allocation of his estate."

"The manor," Lindsey murmured. "He was leaving it to me."

"That would be my guess. He said Stuart and Tracy knew nothing about these changes, just as they knew nothing about your existence. But he was worried. And not only about their reaction when they found out about you and the steps he'd taken to provide for you. He was worried that they were involved in something unethical, maybe even illegal, under the guise of protecting the family. Whatever that something was, it wasn't tied to his businesses. He'd checked that out himself, and then had Leland and a staff of financial experts do the same. All his companies and the individual departments were operating on the up-and-up. All his assets were intact. Which made him worry all the more."

"Why? What else could they harm?"

"You. You and your mother. Harlan was determined to provide for you, but he was worried sick about how that would factor into whatever Tracy and Stuart were up to. He begged me to get to the bottom of this, to find out what they were doing, to protect them from themselves. More important, he wanted me to protect you. He asked that of both Leland and me. No matter what, he wanted you kept safe."

Lindsey tasted salt, and realized she was crying. "I... I didn't realize."

"I know you didn't. That's why I told you how sorry Harlan was that he'd never known you. It was one of the greatest sorrows of his life. He loved you, Lindsey, whether or not you believe it."

"I'm beginning to." Lindsey wet her lips, stared at the sheets. "You said my father opened up to you about a lot of things. Obviously, that includes his children -
all
his children. Does it also include my mother?"

"To some degree, yes," Nicholas caught her chin between his fingers, gently lifted her gaze to meet his. "I don't know details. Harlan kept those to himself. But I do know he was tormented with guilt. He believed he should have found a way to help Irene, and to be there for you. He talked about your future, and how he wanted to make it secure and happy. But his hands were tied. Camille was sick. She was drinking herself into oblivion. More and more so as the years progressed."

Painful memories darkened Nicholas's eyes. "Sixteen years ago, right after Stuart and I finished our freshman year at Harvard, we drove down to spend a week or two at the Newport manor. A few days into our vacation, Harlan showed up. He looked terrible, almost haunted. Later, I found out he'd just come from visiting your mother."

Slowly, Lindsey nodded. "When she opened up to me about how things had really been between them, my mother said that my father had tried several times to get through to her. The last time was when I was about ten. She sent him away - again."

"Well, it tore him up pretty badly. He barely spoke to Stuart or me, just wandered around the house looking miserable. We realized he wanted to be alone. So we packed up to leave. We were about to head out, when Camille exploded in. She'd followed Harlan to the house. Apparently, she thought he had arranged some kind of rendezvous with Irene. I'm not sure what made her think that; she was irrational by that time. She went a little crazy, shattering crystal and sobbing accusations. She downed half a bottle of vodka, then took off. Stuart jumped in one car, Harlan and I in another. We split up so we'd have a better chance of finding her. Stuart got to her first. He found her car at the entrance to the Cliff Walk. By the time Harlan and I showed up, she was staggering around on that rough section I pointed out to you. She nearly fell and killed herself. If Stuart hadn't grabbed her when he did ... I shudder to think what would have happened."

"So that's why you got that strange look on your face when you showed me the wilder portions of the Cliff Walk," Lindsey murmured.

"Exactly. And it wasn't the only near-miss Camille had there. There was another one, about nine years later. That time it was a blatant suicide attempt. I don't know what prompted it, or why Camille was there in the first place. The doctors felt that the amount of pills and alcohol she was consuming by then made her delusional. Stuart was terrified she'd try again - and succeed. He and Harlan did some research. They found Rolling Hills. Camille was admitted a few weeks later."

Lindsey swallowed. The situation was tragic. And what she was about to ask would probably sound horribly insensitive. Still, she had to know.

"Nicholas, from the way you describe Camille's condition, it was much worse than I imagined."

"That's because Harlan managed to keep most of it from the media. If he hadn't, the whole sordid story would have been splashed on page one of every tabloid in America."

"I understand. He was devoted to his family." Lindsey searched Nicholas's face. "Is it possible that's the only reason he stayed with her - out of duty?"

Nicholas didn't look offended by her question. On the contrary, he looked as if he'd expected it. "It's more than possible. At the time when Harlan was involved with your mother, his children were young. He would never have traumatized them with a divorce. But later? When they were grown? If he'd met Irene then, things might have been different. He might have taken the risk -
if
Camille's mental state hadn't been so fragile. Regardless, if you're asking if he was happy, the answer is no. He was committed to Camille's well-being, but he wasn't a husband, not in any real sense. Does that help?"

"I don't know." Lindsey ran a hand through her hair. "If he was still in love with my mother, then, yes, it helps."

A brief hesitation. "He never said it aloud, but my guess is, he was. The way he spoke of her - not the words, but the tone - the pride he took in your accomplishments ... as I said, I can't be sure, but I suspect his feelings were still there."

Lindsey's mind was reeling. "You said he asked you to look out for me."

"Not just to look out for you. To make things right. To stay close by as you made your adjustment, to talk to you about him, to help you with your inheritance. At that point, I suggested that Leland, as Harlan's legal adviser, would make a better choice. But Harlan nixed that idea, saying your inheritance and how it should be handled was right up my alley. I guessed that meant it included real estate. So I agreed. Still, when I met with him and Leland, I thought it was strange how involved in your life they wanted me to be. Now I'm not so sure it was as strange as it seemed."

"You think they were playing matchmaker?" Lindsey asked incredulously.

A slow smile curved Nicholas's lips, and he reached out, traced the curve of her bare shoulder. "Pretty good matchmaking, wouldn't you say?" His knuckles caressed her cheek. "Yeah, I have a hunch that's what they were doing. But we'll have to get confirmation from Leland."

Lindsey's brows drew together. "How much does Mr. Masters know?"

"Everything. He's been working with me to figure out what Stuart and Tracy are up to. Whatever it is, they're desperate to make you go away."

"Desperate enough to kill me?"

Nicholas's smile faded, and he gave a troubled shrug. "I don't know. Stuart was pressuring the hell out of me to seduce you into selling me the manor - to the point of being irrational. So, yes, I think he's out of control. But to rig a scaffolding to fall on you? That's another story. I've known Stuart for twenty years. Yeah, he'd do just about anything for his family, especially Camille. But violence? I never would have believed it."

"Unless whatever he's involved in is serious, maybe criminal - and I'm a threat to it."

"Right. Or unless it's Tracy who's behind this."

Lindsey drew a slow breath. "You think she's more capable of violence than her brother?"

"I think she's harder and colder than her brother. Other than that . . ." Nicholas shrugged again. "I don't know her as well as I know Stuart." His jaw tightened. "But I intend to get at the truth."

"How?"

"It's time to pull out the stops and back those two into a corner. You and I will head out to the manor first thing tomorrow for cleanup and questions. I'll call Stuart and Tracy, presumably so they can ward off the press. They'll come tearing over. I'll leak enough of what I know - what their father suspected - to knock them off-balance. Then I'll issue an ultimatum. That'll do it."

"I'm sure it will," Lindsey agreed. "Okay, so that's tomorrow. What do we do in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I stick to you like glue, from now until whenever we resolve this insanity."

"Like glue, huh?" Lindsey attempted a smile. "That could be interesting, especially since my plans for the rest of the night involved staying in bed."

"How convenient," Nicholas's eyes turned that heated shade of dark blue, and he tugged the sheet away from Lindsey's body, eased her onto her back. He groped for the box of condoms, tossing the entire box on top of his night table. "I guess I'll be confined to bed, too. After all, I did promise to take excellent care of you, to stay close by while you adjusted to your new life."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, drew him closer. "I like the sound of that."

"Me, too." He tunneled his fingers through her hair, lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her deeply, reluctantly pulling away while he still had the presence of mind to do so. "Give me a minute."

"Okay -
one
minute."

He took less, returning to cover her body with his. "Better?"

"M-m-m... much."

"Good. Now, tell me when you feel adjusted." He settled himself between her thighs, pressed slowly forward.
"Fully
adjusted."

Lindsey's breath caught, and she arched to bring him more fully inside her. "That might take a while."

He shuddered, his chuckle emerging as a hoarse groan. "Somehow I doubt it. But we'll test your adaptation in every way possible - just to make absolutely sure."

The man stood outside the heavy oak door, bracing himself for the less-than-chipper reception he was about to get. He didn't have the news she wanted. This conversation wasn't going to be pleasant.

Sucking in his breath, he pushed open the door and stepped into the room. "Ms. Falkner."

Her head snapped up the minute he walked in, and she put down her fountain pen, rose from behind her desk. "Mike. Finally." She raised her chin, scrutinizing him intently. "Well? I've been on pins and needles all night. Is it done?"

He shifted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yes and no. I rigged the thing like you asked ."

"And did she show up?"

"Yup. Around eight o'clock. She went in by herself. Everything went just like you said it would. Except that she's quicker than we thought. She got out of the way before the thing collapsed."

"Damn." A frown. "We were supposed to be rid of her - permanently."

"That
we might be," the man said brightly. "She drove away from that place like a bat out of hell."

"Did she drive all the way back to Connecticut?"

"No. At least not yet. She drove to Warner's house."

"Then maybe you should have taken care of her there."

"I thought of it. But I didn't know if you wanted me to be that obvious. Right now, there's still no proof anyone's trying to hurt her. If I break in and attack her outright, the whole accident theory goes out the window. Besides, she's not alone. Warner's with her."

Her eyes glittered bitterly. "Comforting her, no doubt. As only Nicholas Warner can." A contemplative pause. "Fine. Maybe we can use this new attachment she and Nicholas have for each other to our advantage. A few subtle moves, an unfortunate accident, and Lindsey Hall will be wiped from our lives for good."