Tears of the Renegade (26 page)

She pressed herself back into the corner of the couch,
watching him warily as he approached and leaned over her. “What was that?”

“Throw you over my shoulder and carry you off.” He gripped one of her wrists, gave a gentle tug, and to her astonishment she found herself being hoisted over his shoulder. He settled her comfortably, one arm locked around her legs to hold her steady, while he patted her bottom with the other hand.

Dizzily she grabbed at his belt loops to anchor herself. “Put me down!” she gasped; then, as he moved deliberately around the room, switching off the television, turning off the lights, she said, “What are you doing?”

“You'll see.”

It wasn't until he carried her outside into the warm, fragrant night air that she began to struggle, kicking futilely against the band of his arm. “Let me down! Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” he answered simply, his boots crunching on the gravel of the drive. In an effort to see Susan braced her arms on his back and raised herself, looking over her shoulder. His Blazer was sitting there, and he opened the door, then very gently lifted her off his shoulder and placed her on the seat.

“Emily packed your clothes,” he informed her, leaning in to kiss her sweetly astonished mouth. “I've already put them in the Blazer. Everything's taken care of, and all you have to do is ride. I still have that blanket in the back, if you'd rather sleep,” he finished huskily, his tone telling her how clearly he remembered the last time he had used it.

Susan sat in dazed astonishment as he shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. He was really kidnapping her, with Emily's cheerful aid! She supposed she should feel more indignant, but she still felt slow and drowsy, and it just didn't seem worth the effort to protest.

When he slid under the steering wheel, she asked quietly,
“How did you know I wouldn't try to run while you went around to get in?”

“Two reasons.” He started the motor and shifted into Reverse, turning to look over his shoulder as they backed up. “One, you're too smart to waste what little energy you have in a useless effort.” He braked, then changed to first gear and smoothly let out the clutch, his powerful legs working. “Two, you love me.”

His logic was iron-clad. She did love him, even though she was still trying to deal with the hurt he'd inflicted. She supposed that she could best describe her feelings as those of being ill-used, shuffled about with little regard in the high-stakes game he and Preston had been playing.

Cord slanted her a searching look. “No fervent denials?”

“No. I'm not a liar.”

The simple dignity of her statement, coupled with her listlessness, shook him to the core. She loved, but without hope. He felt as if a flame that had been given into his care was flickering on the brink of extinction, and it would take tender nurturing to bring it back to full strength. His first thought, when she'd left the office earlier in the day, had been to give her time, let her rest and recover her strength, but as the day wore on he'd been seized by an urgent need to do
something,
to bring her back into the circle of his arms where she belonged. His arrangements had been hurriedly made, as he swept all obstacles and protests out of his path.

He'd thought she would sleep, but she sat very still and erect in the seat, her eyes on the highway. When he'd gone past every destination that she'd guessed, she finally asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“To the beach,” he answered promptly. “You're going to do nothing but eat, sleep, and lie in the sun until you gain back the weight you've lost and lose those smudges under your eyes.”

Susan pondered his answer for a moment, since they were evidently not going to the stretches of beach that she was familiar with. She sighed. “What beach?”

He laughed aloud, a rare sound. “I'll narrow it down to Florida for you. Does that help?”

She did sleep, finally, before they reached their destination. In the early hours of the morning Cord pulled the Blazer up to a darkened beach house and put his hand on her shoulder to gently shake her awake.

The house was right on the beach, and the luminescent Gulf stretched out before her as far as she could see. The white sand of the Florida panhandle looked like snow in the faint starlight. When she climbed from the Blazer, the constant wind off the Gulf lifted her hair, bringing with it the scent of the ocean mingled with the fresher scent of rain.

It was a basic Florida beach house, built of whitewashed cement blocks, with large windows and low ceilings. Following Cord as he moved through the house turning on the lights, she saw a small, cheerful kitchen in yellow and white, a glass table in an alcove, with a ceiling fan above it, and a living room with white wicker furniture; then Cord led her to a small white-painted bedroom. He brought in the single suitcase Emily had packed for her and placed it at the foot of the bed.

“Your bathroom is through there,” he said, indicating a door opening off the bedroom. “I'll be in the room straight across the hall, if you need me for anything.”

Of all the things she had considered since he'd put her in the Blazer, that she would be going to bed alone wasn't one of them, yet that was exactly what happened. He kissed her on the forehead and walked out, closing the door behind him, and she stood in the middle of the room, blinking her eyes in astonishment.

But the bed beckoned her, and she took a swift shower, then
crawled naked between the sheets, too tired to see if Emily had packed a nightgown for her.

Over breakfast the next morning, a meal that he cooked before awakening her, she commented, “You know, this isn't very wise behavior for a man who's just taken control of a firm. You should be in the office.”

He shrugged and liberally spread his toast with jelly. “There's wise, and then there's wise. I think I have my priorities in the right order.”

Pursing her lips, Susan carefully cut her toast into thin strips. She wasn't quite certain why he'd brought her to the beach, but her questions could wait. She'd slept until she was almost dopey, and consequently she was rested for the first time in weeks. She didn't think she could handle any personal questions right then, but there were a lot of things she wanted to know.

“You had it all planned out before you came back, didn't you?”

He glanced up, his blue eyes glittering as the morning sun fell on his face. “It all depended on the first step. When I put pressure on him, he had to sell off stock and weaken himself financially in order to replace the money that he'd taken in order for any of it to work. He literally financed my takeover; the money that he replaced was used to buy up the first loan. Then, when that loan was paid, I used the money again to buy up the second loan.”

His nerve and gall were truly astonishing, leaving her shaking her head in awe. “You didn't have any other money to back you?”

“Of course, I have money,” he snorted. “I'm a hell of a good gambler, regardless if it's cards, dice, horses…or oil. I've lost my shirt a few times, but more often than not I come out on top.”

“Oil?” she asked blankly. “You wanted to lease the ridges yourself? You weren't acting for any company?”

He shrugged, his powerful shoulders rippling under the light blue polo shirt he wore. “The ridges were a smoke screen,” he admitted. “They were a way to put pressure on Preston; I wanted him to refuse to lease them to me, giving me an excuse to use my lever against him.”

Susan remembered feeling, at the time, that he'd deliberately pushed Preston into refusing; he'd manipulated them all like a master puppeteer, and they'd danced whenever he pulled the strings. “So there's no oil in the ridges? No wonder you weren't in any hurry to sign the leases!”

“I didn't say that.” He reached out and put his hand on hers. “Stop butchering that slice of toast and eat it,” he commanded. “Haven't you received the geological survey you ordered?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, the part about the oil is true, or at least there's a good chance of either oil or natural gas.”

She ate a piece of toast, and fiddled with another one until she looked up and saw him glaring at her. She hastily took a bite, then put the remainder on her plate. “I'm really not very hungry. I'm sorry.”

“That's all right. You'll get your appetite back soon.” He rose and began to clear the table; when Susan moved to help him, he stopped her with a lifted hand. “Whoa, lady. Put that plate down. You're not to do any work.”

“I'm fairly certain I'm still strong enough to carry a plate,” she informed him mildly.

“Sit down. I think I'm going to have to explain the rules to you.”

At the mock sternness in his voice, she sat down like a naughty schoolgirl, her hands clasped on her knees. He sat down in the chair opposite her and explained the situation to her slowly and carefully. “You're here to rest. I'm here to take care of you. I'll do the cooking, the cleaning up, everything.”

“How long will heaven last?” she asked, and for the first time a tiny smile lit her face, catching his eye like a ray of sunshine after a storm.

“As long as it takes,” he replied quietly.

He was serious. The next few days passed leisurely, even monotonously, but after the stress of the last weeks, that was exactly what Susan needed. Time was measured only by the rising and setting of the sun. At first she slept a lot, as much from mental fatigue as any physical tiredness. She didn't occupy her thoughts with tormenting questions of “What if?” her mind was curiously blank, as if it were just too much trouble to think about anything. She rested, she ate, she slept, all under the mostly silent guardianship that Cord offered.

She not only slept alone, she was completely undisturbed, and as she regained her strength she began to wonder about that. It was a sign of her returning vitality that she wondered about anything, but she was young and healthy, and the coddling she'd been receiving was rapidly restoring her strength. Her depression and fatigue had been feeding on each other, and with the weariness banished, the uncharacteristic depression began to lift. It was almost like rebirth, and she quietly enjoyed it. But she knew that it was also obvious to Cord that she was feeling much better, and every night she expected him to come to her bed. When he didn't, she had the panicked thought that perhaps he didn't want her any longer; then she realized that he was waiting for her to make the first move, to indicate that she was ready to resume their relationship.

Uncertainty kept her silent. She wasn't certain that it was what she wanted; she still loved him, but there was still that lingering sense of betrayal that she couldn't shake, and she knew that as long as she had doubts about him she had to hold herself aloof. Nor did she want simply to resume an affair; she
wanted far more from him than that. She wanted his love, his legal commitment, and, if possible, his children.

The fifth night they were at the beach house a thunderstorm blew in from the Gulf and dumped its fury on them, rattling the windows with its booming claps of thunder. Susan awoke with a start, a cry on her lips, as for a confused moment she thought a tornado was bearing down on her. Then she realized where she was and curled up under the sheet, listening to the drumming rain against the window. She'd never been frightened of storms in the past; in fact, she rather enjoyed the display of power and grandeur, as long as it didn't escalate into a tornado. She would forever have a healthy respect for those snaking, dancing storms.

Her door opened abruptly, and Cord stepped into the room, his nakedness revealed in the flashes of lightning.

Susan stared at him, feeling the tart taste of desire on her tongue, the slow, heated coiling in her abdomen and thighs.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly. “I thought you might be nervous, after the tornado.”

She sat up, pushing her tousled hair away from her face. “I'm fine. I was a little startled when it first woke me, but I'm not frightened.”

“Good,” he said, and started to leave the room.

“Cord, wait!” she called, not planning to say the words, but they burst out of her anyway. He hesitated and turned back to her, standing silently, waiting. “I think it's time to talk,” she ventured.

“All right.” He moved his shoulders in a strange manner, as if bracing himself. “I'll go put on some pants and be back.”

“No.” Again she stopped him, holding her hand out to him. “There's no need, is there?”

“I didn't think so,” he returned. “But I wasn't sure how you felt.”

“I feel the same… Please, sit on the bed.” She moved to
one side and pulled the covers about her waist, sitting up in the circle of them.

He dropped down to her bed, confiscated one of her pillows and stuffed it behind his back, stretched his long legs out on the mattress and turned on the lamp. “If we're going to talk, I'm going to be comfortable, and I want to be able to see you.”

She tucked her legs under her, trying not to stare at the wonderfully masculine form sprawled in front of her. She couldn't imagine a man made any more beautifully. Every time she saw him, she only admired him the more; he seemed to improve with age. But his body was distracting her, and she forced herself to look at his face. The small, knowing, infinitely pleased smile that lurked on his lips made her flush; then she laughed a little at herself.

“I'm sorry. You have a knack for making me blush.”

“
I
should be blushing, if I'm reading your mind correctly.”

He was, and they both knew it. She quickly sought control, and found it. This was far too important for her to let herself be sidetracked. “Before I say anything else, we might as well get one thing out of the way. I love you. If you can't deal with that, if it makes you uncomfortable, then we have nothing to talk about. You might as well go back to your own room.”