Worth Dying For (19 page)

“She told me later that she was interested right away, but she’d heard the other girls talking about me. They’d warned her that I would break her heart.”

“But you didn’t, did you? You fell in love with her.”

“Did I ever.” Dante rolled over and sat up alongside Tessa, their backs resting against the pillows she had placed against the headboard. “I wish you could understand what it’s like to love someone that much, the way I loved Amy. You know all those sappy things they say in love songs? Well, they’re all true.”

“What kind of engagement ring did you give her?” Tessa asked. “Women always want to know about things like that.”

Dante lifted Tessa’s hand. “No rings on your fingers.”

She shook her head. “I had a lot of jewelry, several rings, even a beautiful ruby birthstone ring, but after the accident—” She huffed loudly. “I’ve used that word so many times to explain to the world what happened to me that I automatically use it.”

Still holding her hand, he slipped his other arm around her shoulders. “I couldn’t afford much of a ring for Amy, but I spent every dime I had on it. It was just a little half-carat diamond. Nothing fancy. But she loved it. You should have heard her squeal when I asked her to marry me and put the ring on her finger. You’d have thought it was the Hope Diamond or something.”

“I’m sure to Amy it was the most beautiful, priceless ring in the world.” If Dante gave her a rhinestone ring, she would treasure it, as long as his heart came with the ring.

Dante eased his arm from around her shoulders and held out his left hand. “She gave me this.”

Tessa studied the handsome onyx ring with a small diamond in the center. If her guess was right, this was no cheap knock-off. “It’s a very nice ring.”

“The ring belonged to Amy’s father. It was the only thing she had that belonged to him.”

Tessa took Dante’s hand. She ran her fingertip over the shiny black onyx setting. “You should wear this ring forever, in memory of Amy and the love you two shared.”

Dante slid his big hand across the side of her face and down her neck. His thumb skimmed her lips as his fingers forked through her hair. Their gazes met and locked. Her heart stood still. His fingers worked through her hair, undoing the loose bun and setting her long, wavy hair free.

He lifted a strand of her hair and brought it to his nose, then closed his eyes and sighed. “You have such beautiful hair.”

Did her hair remind him of Amy’s? she wondered.

“Was your hair always this dark?” he asked.

“The older I get the darker the blond,” she told him. “When I was younger, it was a couple of shades lighter. I figure in a few years, I’ll have enough gray hairs to warrant putting a color on it.”

He opened his eyes and stared at her. “I know you’re not Amy, if that’s what’s bothering you. I know she’s dead. I know you’re alive.” His gaze bored into her. “And I know I want you.”

“Are you sure it’s me you want?”

“I’m sure.”

L
UCIE HAD
her hands full and needed help. She, Leslie Anne and Charles Sentell had returned to the house to find Sharon Westbrook trying to deal with pure bedlam. Every couple of minutes, the phone rang and a red-faced G.W. dared anyone to answer it. His sister was doing her best to soothe him, but with little success. Celia Poole kept snapping at everyone and demanding to know where Tessa was. Teetering nervously around the room, Myrle continuously wrung her hands and wept. Hal and Eustacia hovered in the background, a stunned expression on the butler’s face and tears in the cook’s eyes. Tad Sizemore watched the whole scene with bored indifference. Amazingly enough, it was Olivia Sizemore who calmly asked Lucie what she could do to help.

“Speak to Mr. Carpenter and have him man the telephones,” Lucie said. “Please ask him to tell anyone who calls that the Westbrooks are aware of the rumor being spread and will issue a statement to the press sometime tomorrow.”

Olivia nodded.

“Have Eustacia prepare coffee and serve it as soon as possible. It’ll give her something to do. Besides, it wouldn’t be wise to pour everyone a stiff drink, so coffee will have to suffice,” Lucie said, then turned to Leslie Anne, who stood beside her, a glazed look in her eyes. Lucie grasped
the girl’s arm and shook her gently. “I’m going to need your help, honey. Can you help me?”

“What do you want me to do?” Leslie Anne asked.

“Go over there and see if you can do something to calm your grandfather. Your aunt doesn’t seem to be having much luck.”

When Leslie Anne only stared blankly at Lucie, she didn’t mince words. “You don’t want your grandfather to have a heart attack, do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then get over there right now.”

Before Leslie Anne took more than a couple of steps, Myrle saw her and screeched. “Oh, my poor child. My poor little Leslie Anne.” Myrle came rushing toward her great-niece, her arms outstretched. “Thank the good Lord my sister never lived to see this day.”

Lucie turned quickly to Charlie. “See if you can do something with Mrs. Poole. And get her daughter to help you. Ms. Poole’s bitching isn’t helping anyone, least of all her mother.” Celia Poole was acting like a hateful bitch, which Lucie suspected the woman was.

Without a word, Charlie Sentell moved into action, effectively cutting Myrle off before she reached Leslie Anne. Lucie breathed a brief sigh of relief, then gave Leslie Anne a nudge.

“You want to be treated like an adult, now’s your chance to act like one. Put your grandfather first. Think about what this is doing to him. You’re his number one priority. Go over there and show him you can handle this, even if you have to fake it. Understand?”

“Mama should be here,” Leslie Anne said. “Has anyone called her?”

“I’ll take care of that, you just do what I told you to do. Okay?”

“Okay.” Like a windup doll, Leslie Anne walked toward her grandfather.

Lucie ducked out of the room and into a secluded nook down the hallway. She dialed her cell phone. Dom Shea answered on the second ring.

“Dom, it’s Lucie. Look, we’ve got big trouble here at the Leslie Plantation and I need backup.”

“Vic and I will—”

“No, just send Vic. I want you to get in touch with Dante and Tessa Westbrook. When I call their cell phones, I keep getting voice mail. I don’t know what’s going on with them, but they need to get back here pronto. If necessary, go to Louisiana and bring them home.”

“What’s going on?”

“It seems somebody made more than a few phone calls this afternoon,” Lucie said. “This mystery person apparently informed all of the Westbrooks’ family and friends that Tessa was raped seventeen years ago and that Leslie Anne is Eddie Jay Nealy’s daughter.”

“Good God!”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it. I’ve got a houseful of weeping, half-hysterical family members here right now, the phone is ringing off the hook and it’s only a matter of time before the local press will be beating down the front gates.”

“Should we involve the sheriff?” Dom asked.

“Not yet. Just send Vic ASAP and then hunt down Dante and Tessa.”

T
HE MOST
exhilarating sensation swept through Tessa, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment. To be with
this one man. Tessa’s body tingled. Her nipples tightened. Her femininity moistened. Had she known this kind of sexual hunger when she’d been a teenager, before her life had been changed forever by the actions of a maniac? In the years since, she’d had sex on several occasions—to prove to herself that she hadn’t been scarred for life by the rape—and she’d found those liaisons pleasant enough, but void of any real passion.

“Tessa, are you sure?” Dante asked, his black eyes raking over her with a hunger she recognized as identical to her own. “If you have any doubts—”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” She held out her hand to him. “I want us to make love.”

He took her hand, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. First her chin, then her cheeks. His lips grazed her temples and forehead. Sweet and tender. Hesitant, but not uncertain. He caressed her neck and glided his fingertips over her shoulders and down her arms, his touch featherlight and unbearably sensual. It amazed her that such a large, powerful man could be so gentle. He handled her as if she were made of spun glass. As if she were the rarest treasure on earth.

His incredible gentleness was her undoing.

The stirring of passion within her intensified. She yearned for more than tenderness, wanting Dante’s control to crumble. “I won’t break, you know,” she whispered in his ear just as his big hands hovered over her breasts.

He groaned, the sound animalistic. And he covered her breasts with his open palms, lifted them and rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. Even through the barriers of her silk blouse and lace bra, she felt the friction almost as if her breasts were bare. A yearning gasp escaped from her parted lips.

“I want to look at you,” he said. “I want to touch you and taste you all over.”

When he jerked the ends her blouse up and out of her slacks, she shivered with anticipation and when he undid the small pearl buttons, she studied his large dark hands. Long, broad fingers. A dusting of black hair. Amy’s father’s onyx and diamond ring shimmered on the third finger of Dante’s left hand.

Don’t think about Amy
, Tessa told herself.
Don’t let thoughts of another woman ruin this time with Dante
.

He removed her blouse, but when he reached to unhook the front closure on her bra, she pushed his hands aside and reached out to him. Their gazes collided. She smiled and undid one button on his shirt, and then another and another. And when she had his shirt completely undone, he yanked it out of his trousers and pulled it off.

His hard, muscular chest tempted her beyond reason. When she rubbed her fingertips over his tiny male nipples, he sucked in his breath. She delved her fingers through the thicket of dark, curly hair that spread out over his upper chest forming the top of a “T” while the lower half tapered off over his lean belly and inside his pants. While she savored the feel of him, his strength and pure masculinity, he unhooked her bra and spread it apart. She slid her hands down his sides and unbuckled his belt, her fingers trembling ever so slightly in her haste to undress him.

With both of them bare from the waist up, Dante pulled her against him, pressing her breasts into his chest as he kissed her. All gentleness was gone, replaced by raging hunger. This was what she wanted, what she needed. Tessa participated fully in the savage kiss, his fierce hunger
feeding hers. Their tongues mated in a wild dance, their hands exploring, enticing, arousing.

They tore at each other’s remaining clothing, flinging garments onto the floor and down toward the foot of the bed. When they were totally naked, Dante tossed Tessa onto her back, then straddled her hips. As he stared down at her, she gazed up at him. Perspiration dotted his forehead and upper lip. Lust shimmered in his eyes.

He hovered over her, big and dark and powerful. All man. His swollen sex jutted forward, just barely touching her mound.

Tessa’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“God, honey, I don’t have any condoms.” Dante groaned. His shoulders sagged.

“I don’t think I can wait for you to go out somewhere and buy a pack,” she told him truthfully.

“Are you saying—”

She lifted herself up and reached for his penis, the actions simultaneous. She pressed on the small of his back as she guided him into her, then she bucked up just enough to take him completely inside her body. He moaned roughly and thrust into her deep and hard.

Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as having Dante inside her. She clung to his shoulders, her nails biting into his flesh, clamping down on his rock-hard muscles. He slid his hands under her hips and lifted her up, taking her completely, filling her to the hilt. Whimpering gasps and sighs of pleasure escaped from her lips as he lunged and retreated repeatedly, building the tension inside her quickly. Her body joined his, setting an identical rhythm, moving together as if they’d made love countless times and knew one another the way only old lovers did.

Rapidly losing control, his movements frantically increasing in speed and roughness, Dante hammered into her. And she loved it. Her whole body came alive as it never had before, bursting with energy, expanding and contracting, milking him with feminine strength. Her climax hit her with earthshattering force. As she cried out and fell apart, Dante came, his orgasm intensifying her pleasure.

She held on to him as his body melted into hers, a heavy yet precious weight on top of her. When he rolled over and off her, he curled his arm around her and brought her close, then kissed her. She snuggled against him and sighed. The lingering scent of her perfume mingled with the faint scent of his aftershave. Both blended with the odor of perspiration and sex. A sweet contentment settled over Tessa and she refused to allow any doubts or uncertainties to rob her of this sweetness. She laid her hand over Dante’s heart, loving the way touching him made her feel.

They rested there for endless moments, neither of them speaking, only holding each other. And then Dante broke the silence.

“Are you hungry?”

She laughed. “Now that you mention it…”

“Why don’t we take a shower, then find a restaurant? I’m suddenly starving.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Reluctantly, she eased away from him and sat up in bed. “Do you want the bathroom first or—”

He shot up, grabbed her hand and pulled her out of bed with him when he got up. “Let’s shower together,” he told her. “It’ll save time and—” he winked at her “—I’ll even wash your hair for you.” His gaze traveled down to the apex between her thighs.

Her cheeks flushed, but she wasn’t really embarrassed. She loved the way Dante was looking at her, as if he wanted her again already. She threw her arms around his neck and rubbed herself against him. “In that case, I say one good turn deserves another.”

Laughing, Dante swept her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom.

A
LL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE
at the old Leslie Plantation, and it’s completely my doing. I created this havoc by simply making a few telephone calls to certain people, beginning with Olivia and Myrle. But I didn’t stop there, with G.W.’s girlfriend and sister-in-law. Oh, no. I knew that in order to stir things up enough to keep G.W. off balance and show Leslie Anne the nightmare her life would become, I had to reveal the ugly truth to enough people so that word would soon spread throughout Fairport. And it has.

Lucie Evans and Vic Noble were doing an admirable job of keeping the hounds at bay, so to speak. But they finally had to call in the sheriff to post deputies at the front gates to keep the press from scaling the walls. By morning, the story of Tessa Westbrook’s rape seventeen year ago and Leslie Anne’s true parentage will be front-page news. Even G.W. can’t stop it. Not now.

I must concentrate on Leslie Anne, push her little by little, but not so much that anyone becomes suspicious. They’ll be watching her like a hawk, so I’ll have to be careful and strike when she’s alone. I thought she would fall apart this evening, but she didn’t. Instead of demanding attention by acting out, she conducted herself quite well, her greatest concern apparently for her grandfather. The girl is made of strong stuff, so pushing her over the
edge might prove impossible. In that case, I’ll move right along to Plan B. Whether she kills herself or I do it for her doesn’t really matter. The end result will be the same. Leslie Anne will be dead. Tessa will be devastated and inconsolable. And I’ll have rid myself of the two major obstacles standing between me and what I want.

D
ANTE CONCENTRATED
completely on Tessa and for the first time since he’d been young and in love with Amy, he felt more than sexual desire for a woman. Maybe it wasn’t love, but it sure as hell was something pretty powerful. Had Tessa stirred to life a long dormant emotion inside him solely because she reminded him so much of Amy? Or was it because she had suffered unbearably at the hands of the same monster who had killed Amy? He didn’t know for sure. But one thing he did know was that he liked Tessa for herself and truly admired her. What strength and determination it must have taken for her to have survived Nealy’s brutality. And not only survived, but recovered. She’d built a good life for herself and her child. How many women could love the child of the man who had raped and tortured her? But Tessa Westbrook was no ordinary woman. She was a rare breed.

When they entered the bathroom, he turned on the shower, stepped into the tub and held out his hand for Tessa. She took his hand and joined him. She looked so small and delicate standing there naked, her long hair hanging across one shoulder, the ends resting against the rise of her breast. He leaned down and licked the nipple. Sighing, she arched her back and threaded her fingers through his hair.

While the warm water sprayed down over them, Dante
closed his eyes and kissed a path from Tessa’s breast, over her belly and across the front of first one thigh and then the other. When he stood up and opened his eyes, she swayed toward him. He caught her with one hand, sliding it around her waist, then pulled her to him slowly, letting the passion between them continue to build.