Heiress (66 page)

As he reached her, he glanced around and frowned. "Where are Eden and Ben?"

"We saw the stables in back when we drove in. You know Ben. He had to check them out. Eden went along with him."

"How's she taking all this?"

"She doesn't know what's going on." Abbie shook her head, staring at the white buttons on his shirtfront and wishing he would take her in his arms and hold her. "I haven't told her yet."

"We'll do it later. . . together," MacCrea said, exactly as she had hoped he would.

"She's so young, I don't know how much of this she'll understand, especially about you."

"We'll take it slow. . . a step at a time." He gazed at her. "To tell you the truth, Abbie, I wasn't sure you'd break with him, at least not right away."

"If I'd thought it through, I probably would have waited. With the horses and a mare due to foal, and the race two weeks away, my timing isn't exactly the best." But the truth was, she didn't want to have to sleep in the same bed with Dobie anymore—not now, not after being with MacCrea. "But I had to."

"If you hadn't, Abbie, in another two days, I would have," he stated firmly, leaving her in no doubt that he would have done just that. "God, I've missed you," he said in the next breath and gathered her into this arms, kissing her hungrily, deeply. Just for an instant, Abbie let herself forget everything except the love that blazed between them—a fire that heated every inch of her body and lit every corner of her heart. When he pulled away, his breathing had grown ragged—as hers had. "It seems a helluva lot longer than three days since I held you like this."

"For me, too."

"How long do you think it will take Ben to look over the stable?"

"Not that long." She smiled.

MacCrea sighed as he released her, removing temptation to arm's length. "It's a damned shame there aren't more than six stalls down there."

"I didn't even know the property had a stable on it."

"That was one of my criteria when I had the realtor looking for a place. Horses were bound to be involved somewhere in the bargain, whether it was just Eden or it included you. I know it isn't River Bend—"

"There's only one River Bend." She wished he hadn't mentioned it. . . and she wished she hadn't said that. "I'm sorry." She couldn't look at him.

"I thought you'd gotten over losing it."

"It was my home. You never get over something like that. You just go on." She looked down at her hands, remembering the feel of River Bend dirt between her fingers. "You go on and hope that someday you'll find a place that will mean as much." Forcing a smile, she turned her face up to him. "You haven't shown me your house, yet, MacCrea."

He studied her thoughtfully, then turned. "Eden and Ben are coming. We might as well wait for them."

Eden came running up to show them one of the long seed pods from the catalpa trees that shaded the lawn. When Ben joined them, MacCrea led them into the sprawling adobe ranch house, built around a center courtyard.

White stucco and dark heavy beams dominated the interior design, with French doors in nearly every room opening onto the courtyard. Large skylights had been cut into the red-tiled roof, letting in the sun by day and the moon and stars by night, again incorporating the outdoors into the house. Throughout, floors of Tercate clay tiles gave way to sections of hardwood and Indian rugs.

As soon as Eden saw the huge stone fireplace in the living room, she immediately wanted MacCrea to start a fire in it, but Abbie managed to convince her that despite the air-conditioning, it was too warm for one. The room was done with antique English and American pieces and deep suede sofas.

When MacCrea showed her the child's suite, all done in light pink and mauve, Eden was enchanted by the canopied bed.

"We shouldn't have any trouble persuading her to go to sleep tonight," Abbie remarked as they left the room.

"I counted on that," MacCrea replied, his glance warmly suggestive of the plans he had for their time alone.

"Where's Mommy going to sleep?" Eden wanted to know.

"In here." He opened the door to the master suite.

A rounded fireplace of white adobe brick was nestled in one corner of the room, with a couple of easy chairs in front of it. Fur rugs flanked the king-sized bed that dominated the other side of the room. Two large closets were linked by a separate dressing room leading to an exquisite marble bath.

"Isn't it grand, Mommy?" Eden declared, sighing expressively. "Mac has the nicest home I've ever seen."

"I'm glad you like it, short stuff." MacCrea scooped her up to ride on his hip.

"I do, but, What about Ben?" She frowned at him. "You haven't shown us his room."

"I will not be staying here tonight, Eden," Ben inserted. "We have a sneaky mare who would pick such a time to have her baby."

MacCrea turned to him. "Can you handle everything all right, Ben?"

Abbie looked on as Ben let the question hang unanswered for several seconds while he quietly studied MacCrea with a critical eye. "I think there will be no trouble. One of the grooms will take part of the foal watch for me. You look after these two, and I will look after the horses."

Later that night, after they had tucked Eden into bed, Abbie lay curled on MacCrea's lap, her head nestled against his shoulder and her lips still warm from the kisses he'd given her when he'd pulled her into the chair with him. A heavy sigh broke from her, betraying her inner restlessness.

"What's wrong?" MacCrea asked, tipping his head to peer at her face.

"I feel a little guilty about Ben being at the farm, dealing with Dobie by himself and sitting up half the night with the mare. All this is my doing. I should be there taking the brunt of it, not Ben."

"Ben isn't going to have any problems with him."

"I hope you're right." She sighed again.

"I know I am."

She tilted her head back to study the quiet strength that was an innate part of his features—the sculpted cheekbone and slanted jawline. "Ben respects you. I was never sure how he felt about you until I saw the way he looked at you today."

"It's mutual."

"I saw that, too." She smiled.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and let his thumb trace the curved line of her mouth. His hands were no longer callused, but Abbie found their smoothness equally stimulating. He bent down and rubbed his mouth across her lips, deliberately withholding the promised kiss to tease her. Reaching up, Abbie slid her fingers into his hair and forced his head down until she felt the satisfying pressure of his lips devouring hers, their tongues melding as they tasted each other.

Reluctantly MacCrea pulled back. "How much longer do you think it will be before that daughter of ours is sound asleep?" His hand slid under the long white skirt of her dress and caressed the back of her thigh.

"Not long." Abbie wanted to block everything else out of her mind except loving him, but she couldn't. She snuggled against him again and absently rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

"What are you thinking?"

Abbie hesitated. "I was just wondering what. . . Dobie is going to do. I'd feel easier if I knew."

"Abbie." MacCrea lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're with me, and that's the way it's going to be from now on. There's nothing he can do that will change that. Not Dobie. Not Rachel. Not anyone."

"I know." She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm, then rubbed her jaw and chin against it. "When I called you today, I think she listened in."

"I wouldn't be surprised." MacCrea paused, wanting more than anything to kiss her and kindle the passion he knew he could arouse. But he knew it wasn't what she wanted from him just now. "I was going to wait to tell you after the deal was finalized, but Lane agreed, in principle today, to sell me his interest in Wilder Oil. There's still a lot of details to work out, but in three or four weeks, it should be all signed and official."

"What?" She stared at him, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"I offered to buy him out shortly after I moved back. It's taken me this long to raise the necessary capital to make the deal. With the nosedive oil prices have taken lately, banks aren't exactly eager to loan money on something like this."

"Can you afford to buy him out?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm in hock up to my neck." MacCrea smiled. "I hope the Arabian horse business is good."

"But. . . why are you doing this?"

"Can't you guess?" he teased. "I lost you twice because of my business dealings with Lane and Rachel. I'm not about to let that be the reason I lose you a third time."

"You don't have to do this."

"That's a risk I'm not willing to take."

"You're crazy, MacCrea." But there was love in her eyes. "You're damned right I am. All because of you." Seeing that look on her face, he couldn't keep a rein on his desire any longer.

Kissing and caressing her, he dispensed with the barrier of her clothes, turning her faint protests about Eden into low moans of need. When she was writhing against him, he carried her to the bed, stripped off his own clothes, and joined her there, immediately reaching out to gather her close and feel the heat of her flesh against his. He nibbled at her throat and breasts while his hands stroked the smooth skin of her thighs and hips, letting the tension build until the ache was mutual.

As he buried himself inside her, she arched her hips to take him all in. They rocked together, the tempo building, straining. For one brief instant, before the paroxysm of intense pleasure claimed him, MacCrea somehow knew that it would always be this way with them—thrust matching thrust, passion equaling passion, and love rivaling love. And he didn't want it any other way.

Three days later, Dobie's attorney contacted Abbie and informed her of Dobie's terms for an uncontested divorce. She was to agree to the immediate termination of her lease on his property, relinquish all financial claims to any permanent improvements she had made on his land, forfeit any rights to property acquired since their marriage, remove his name from Eden's birth certificate, and waive any claim for child support. In return, she was to keep all of her Arabian horses, the related tack and stable equipment, and the monies earned from them, plus any personal items that belonged to Abbie or her daughter, and allow him reasonable visitation privileges with Eden. Abbie agreed.

Chapter 44

Like a monarch surveying his admiring subjects, the blood-bay stallion gazed at the crowd gathered at the paddock rail. Magnificent and regal, he seemed totally indifferent to the saddle being placed on his back and the ministrations of the attendants—a king accustomed to being dressed by others.

"Isn't he just stunning, Lane?" she declared, unable to turn her gaze away from Sirocco to glance at her husband. "Have you ever seen him look so sleek and fit? He's going to win today. I know he is."

Hearing her voice, the stallion thrust his dark muzzle toward her, stretching out his long neck. Rachel moved to his head, rubbing him just behind the ear and studying up close the huge dark eyes and the network of veins on his face, so intent on her stallion that she didn't hear Lane's reply.

"We'll all be cheering for him."

"Who said beauty can't run?" she crooned softly. "We'll show her today, won't we?" She gave him a hug and a kiss. "Just for luck," she said and stepped back to stand next to Lane.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel caught a silver-white flash of movement and turned her head slightly to look at the white stallion, his head flung high, his nostrils widely distended as if trying to catch her scent. A little to the left stood Abbie with that old Polack guru of hers, Ben Jablonski. MacCrea was there, too, and the child. Rachel stared at the smiling and confident foursome, conscious of a faint bristling along her spine.

"May I give Sirocco a good luck pat, Mother? Will he let me?"

Distracted by the sight of her longtime rival, Rachel snapped an irritated, "Of course."

Then the unusualness of her son's request struck her and she turned to stare at Alex, dressed in short pants and a button-down white shirt, his brown hair neatly slicked in place. Warily, he approached the bay stallion and reached up to cautiously pet a muscled shoulder. "Good luck, Sirocco," he offered softly, then backed up quickly when the stallion dipped his head toward him. Alex stopped when he was safely between his father and Mrs. Weldon again.

"You have certainly gotten braver, Alex. I always thought you were afraid of horses," Rachel commented, wondering at the change in him.

He looked down, avoiding her gaze. "They're big, but they won't hurt you—not on purpose."

"I'm glad you finally realized that. Horses can be your dearest friends." She gazed at the stallion, this son of Simoon that meant so much to her, then glanced back at Alex in time to catch his small nod of agreement. "Has a horse become your friend, Alex?" Once she'd seen him duck under the fence to the broodmare pasture and disappear among the pecan trees. She knew how curious horses could be and wondered if one of them had come to investigate this small human who had entered their domain.

But her only response from Alex was a noncommittal shrug as he tucked his chin even closer to the collar of his white shirt. Frustrated, Rachel wondered why she even bothered to try to communicate with her son. He didn't want anything to do with her. He never did. Lane and his nanny, Mrs. Weldon, were the only two people Alex cared about.

Leaving the paddock area, they started making their way to their box seats in the grandstand. She knew that Ross would be waiting for them. . . as planned. Of course, she'd act surprised to see him and pretend that she didn't know he was in town—both of them ignoring the fact they'd been together last night.

It had been an absolutely wonderful evening, marred only by one small argument when Ross had attempted to give her the business card of a supposedly brilliant divorce lawyer. No matter how many times she tried to explain to him, Ross simply refused to accept the fact that she didn't want to get a divorce from Lane, not now and not later. Why should she? She had everything she could ever possibly want: her horses, her home, Lane, and Ross.