Kitabı oku: «The Royals Collection», sayfa 46
Six
As Anne had suspected, the explosion had been deliberate.
The device had been hidden in the undercarriage of a car that belonged to Sam’s aunt and uncle. The police bomb squad still had investigating to do, but as far as they could tell, the bomb had been detonated remotely.
Four other cars had been damaged in the blast and the castle garage had taken a serious hit. Four of the five doors would need to be replaced and the facade would require repair. Thankfully, no people had been seriously hurt. He’d had the decency to do it when there weren’t a lot of people close by. Or maybe that had just been dumb luck. A few maintenance people walked away with mild abrasions and first-degree burns, but it could have been so much worse.
Sam’s poor aunt and uncle, whose car had been sabotaged, were beside themselves with guilt. They felt responsible, even though Anne and her siblings assured them repeatedly that they were in no way being blamed. There was only one person responsible for this.
The Gingerbread Man.
They knew this for a fact now because shortly after the explosion he’d sent an e-mail to Anne via the security office.
Sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding.
Heard it was a blast.
“This has got to stop!” she told Chris, who sat slumped in a chair in the study, nursing a scotch. The wedding guests had all been driven home in the royal fleet—since their own cars had been casualties of the explosion—and most of the family had gone up to bed. Only she, Sam and Chris stayed behind to talk. Or in her case, castigate. She was so filled with nervous energy she hadn’t stopped pacing, hadn’t stopped moving in hours. “Someone could have been seriously hurt. Someone could have died!”
“You think I don’t know that?” Chris said, looking exhausted. “We’re doing all that we can. What else would you have me do?”
“You know what I think we should do,” she said, and his expression went dark.
“That is not an option.”
“What’s not an option?” Sam asked from his seat on the settee. He had been so understanding about this, considering his wedding day had literally gone up in smoke. But she had warned him that being with her could potentially suck him into this mess. And so it had. She shuddered to think what would have happened if the Gingerbread Man had waited until the guests were leaving to sink the plunger. She was sure Sam had considered the same possibilities.
“She wants us to try to draw him out so we can catch him,” Chris said.
“Draw him out how?”
“I assume by using one of us as bait.”
Sam turned to look at her. “You’re not serious.”
“Maybe I trust our security team to do their job. Besides, no one else has had a better idea. How long are we supposed to go on like this? Living like prisoners, in fear of what he’ll do next. He’s obviously escalating the violence.”
“Obviously,” Chris snapped. He rarely lost his cool, so Anne knew that he was much more upset about this than he was letting on. “And now we know what he’s capable of. He’s not just some twisted stalker. He made a bomb. He’s more dangerous than any of us anticipated.”
“Okay,” she acknowledged. “Maybe luring him out wouldn’t be such a hot idea after all.”
“I think that, in light of what happened, it would be best if you two canceled your honeymoon.”
“What!” she screeched, indignation roiling up in her like a volcano. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious.”
“But you’re the one who suggested we go there, because it would be safe.”
She and Sam had been invited by Chris’s brother-in-law, King Phillip of Morgan Isle—the sister to Thomas Isle—to use their family hunting lodge. In fact, they should have been on a boat to the other island hours ago. If things had gone as planned, they would already be celebrating their honeymoon.
“I thought it would be the safest place for you, but—”
“Louisa went to Cabo for her honeymoon and no one gave her a hard time,” Anne reminded him.
“Circumstances have changed.”
“Chris, he ruined my wedding. I refuse to let him ruin my honeymoon, too. We’ll have plenty of security there. We’ll be fine.”
He still looked hesitant.
“The location was kept so hush-hush that by the time he figures out where we are, and comes up with his next diabolical plan, we’ll be back to the castle.”
“All right,” he finally agreed. “As long as you promise not to take any unnecessary risks.”
“Of course.” Did he think that she was a complete dolt? She wanted the man caught and brought to justice, but not so badly that she would endanger the life of her child.
Chris looked at Sam, who nodded and said, “We won’t.”
Is that how it would be now? Her family looking to her husband to keep her in line?
She realized she was clenching her fists and forced herself to relax. Getting this worked up wasn’t good for her or the baby. What she needed was an outlet for all this tension and stress. And she didn’t have to look far to find one.
She gazed over at Sam. Her husband. He was still wearing his wedding clothes but he’d shed the jacket and loosened his tie. The hair that had been combed back from his face earlier now fell forward in soft curls across his forehead. He looked too adorable for words and she couldn’t wait to put her hands all over him.
Her wedding day may have been decimated, but they still had their wedding night. After four months of missing his touch, and a torturous week of waiting for this very night, she was determined to make it a memorable one.
“I’m exhausted,” she announced, forcing a yawn for added effect, when in reality she was so awake she was practically buzzing. “Are you ready for bed, Sam?”
He nodded and rose from the settee.
“I’ll arrange to have the boat ready for your trip to Morgan Isle at 10:00 a.m.,” Chris told her.
“Thank you,” she said, taking Sam’s hand, leading him out of the study and up the stairs to her room. Make that their room. Most of Sam’s clothes and toiletries had been moved in earlier that morning, which had necessitated her clearing a place in her closet for him. Sharing her space again would require some getting used to. Louisa and Anne had shared a bedroom until they were thirteen and Anne could no longer stand the frilly pink bedcovers and curtains, the childish furnishings. Furnishings Louisa had still used until a few months ago.
What Anne really hoped was that when this Gingerbread Man business was behind them, she and Sam could spend time at his grandmother’s cottage. Away from her family and the confines of her title. A place where she could just be herself. A place where, unlike the castle, portraits of her relatives didn’t stare accusingly from every hallway. And where she could make herself a cup of tea without feeling like an intruder in the kitchen. Where she could make love to her husband and not worry that someone on the opposite side of the wall would hear her.
Privacy. That was what she wanted. A place of her own.
“I need to apologize,” Sam said.
She looked over at him. “For what?”
“Until today, I really didn’t take this Gingerbread Man thing very seriously. It seemed more an annoyance than a serious threat. But when that car exploded, I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
He looked at her and smiled. “I’m not. I just want you to be safe.”
Which he had proven. The first minute or so after the blast was a bit of a blur, but the one thing she did remember with distinct clarity was the way he had used his own body as a shield to protect her. She could say with much certainty that in a similar situation, the men who had come before him would have ignored her entirely and saved their own asses.
And now it seemed only fair to reward him for his chivalry. Right?
They reached her room—their room—and the instant they were inside with the door closed, she launched herself at him. He let out a startled “Oof!” as she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his. But it didn’t take him long to recover from his surprise, before his arms went around her and he leaned in, took control of the kiss. In that single joining of their mouths, the tangling of their tongues, they seemed to unleash months of pent-up sexual frustration. She curled her fingers through his hair and sucked on his tongue, wishing she could crawl inside his skin, anything to be closer to him.
When they came up for air they were both breathing hard and he was wearing a slightly confused expression. “I thought you were exhausted.”
“What was I supposed to say? Let’s go upstairs so you can shag me silly?”
A slow smile curled his lips. “Is that what I get to do?”
“If you want to,” she said, already knowing by the look in his eyes the answer was yes. She pulled the pins from her hair, shaking it loose and letting it spill down over her shoulders. His eyes raked over her and she could swear she actually felt his gaze caressing her skin.
“Unless you’d rather just go to sleep,” she teased.
To answer her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugged her against him and kissed her. And kissed her.
And kissed her.
A part of her wanted to drag him to the bed, rip off his clothes, impale herself on his body and ride him to ecstasy. The other part wanted to take her time, draw out the anticipation and make this last.
She broke the kiss and backed out of his arms, wearing a come-and-get-me smile as she unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. All she wore underneath was a beige lace bra and matching panties.
“Take it all off,” he ordered, transfixed as she unhooked her bra and dropped it on the floor.
“They’re bigger,” she said, cupping her breasts in her palms.
“I don’t care what size they are, as long as they’re attached to you.”
How was it that he always knew the exact right thing to say?
She gave each one a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid her nipples. They had been especially sensitive since the second month of her pregnancy. Sometimes just the brush of her pajama top made them hard and tingly, almost to the point of pain.
“The panties, too,” he demanded.
She slid them down, anticipating the slow smile that curled his mouth when he realized what she was hiding—or more to the point wasn’t hiding—underneath.
“I think I just died and went to heaven,” he said.
“It was Louisa’s idea,” she told him, touching her fingers to the smooth skin from the recent Brazilian wax that her sister had insisted would drive Sam wild. If the look on his face was any indication, she was right.
“Louisa, huh?” He shook his head. “She just doesn’t seem the type.”
No kidding. For someone who had clung to her virginity until her engagement several months ago, Louisa seemed to know an awful lot about sex. “She said it enhances sensation.”
“I guess we’ll have to test that theory.”
She was counting on it. She backed toward the bed and Sam watched as she pulled back the covers and draped herself across the mattress, letting her legs casually fall open. Giving him a view of the full package.
He started to walk toward her but she shook her head and said, “Uh-uh,” and he stopped in his tracks. She gestured to his clothes. “Your turn to undress. Take it all off.”
If there were a land speed record for disrobing, he probably broke it. And he had the most beautiful body she had ever seen. Long and lean and perfect. Simply looking at him made her feel all hot and fidgety and anxious.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
She scooted over and lay back against the pillows. Sam crawled in and settled down beside her. She was so ready for him she ached, but she didn’t want to rush this. She wanted to savor every second. Sam seemed content just lying there looking at her, lightly caressing the tops of her breasts, the column of her throat.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, his eyes already shiny and heavy-lidded with arousal. He cupped her breasts, testing their weight in his hand, then he leaned over and licked the dark crest of one. She knew her nipples were sensitive, she just hadn’t realized how sensitive until he nipped one with his teeth. Her body jerked violently, as though he were holding a live wire to her skin, and a strangled moan ripped from her throat.
He lifted his head, looking equal parts alarmed and intrigued. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice unsteady with shock and arousal. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“Was it bad?”
“Not exactly. It felt…electric.” Pleasure and pain all wrapped up in one.
“Should I stop?”
She shook her head. “Do it again.”
“You’re sure?”
She bit her lip and nodded. He lowered his head to try again and she grabbed his shoulders, bracing herself. But nothing could have prepared her for the assault of sensation as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. There was a tremendous, almost unbearably intense throb between her thighs, as if her breasts had somehow been hardwired directly to her womb. A moan rolled up from deep in her chest and her nails dug into his flesh. Then he did the same to the opposite side and she nearly vaulted off the bed, so far gone that she was on another planet.
Sam released her nipple and gazed down at her, looking fascinated, like a child who had just been handed a new toy. “Wow.”
No kidding. This was completely crazy. He’d barely touched her and already she was hovering on the verge of an orgasm. Her body was so alive that if he so much as looked at her cross-eyed, she was going to lose it.
“If you do that again, I’ll come,” she warned him.
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
He looked like he wanted to, if for no other reason than to see if she really would. He even started to lean forward, then seemed to change his mind at the last second. Instead he pushed himself up, pressing her thighs apart and kneeling between them.
She thought he would enter her right away, but he leaned forward instead and licked her. Whether it was the bare skin enhancing things, or her fragile sexual state making it especially erotic, she couldn’t really say. And didn’t really care. All she knew was that it felt so out-of-this-world fantastic she actually forgot to breathe.
“I’ve been fantasizing about being with you since that night in your room,” he said, pressing a kiss to her swollen belly. “I haven’t been able to even look at another woman. I’ve only wanted you.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair as he kissed and nibbled his way up her body, driving her mad. She was sure that was exactly what he intended. When he finally lowered himself on top of her, she was half out of her mind from wanting him and desperate for release.
He eased into her, one slow, steady, deep thrust, and a burst of electricity started deep in her core and zinged outward until only the boundaries of her skin kept it from jumping from her body to his.
His eyes locked on hers as he pulled back, then he rocked into her again, only this time she arched her hips up to meet him halfway and there were no words to describe the shocking pleasure, the sensations building inside her. It robbed her ability to think, to reason. All she could do was feel.
Every thrust drove her higher, closer to nirvana, then Sam clamped his mouth over her breast and her body finally let go. Pleasure flooded her senses in a violent rush, sinking in like a wild animal, feral and out of control.
Through a haze she heard Sam moan, heard him say her name, felt his breath hot on her neck as his body locked and shuddered. In that instant nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them, just her and Sam against the world. Two souls twining and fusing in an irreversible bond.
She knew without a doubt that she loved him. And not just because he’d given her the best orgasm of her life. They were soul mates. She had known it the minute he’d taken her in his arms on the dance floor the night of the charity ball.
But she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. The time just didn’t feel right.
Sam started kissing her neck, nibbling her ears, whispering how delicious she tasted and she felt herself being dragged back under, into that deep well of desire. And before she even had a chance to catch her breath, he was making love to her all over again.
Seven
Considering it was owned by royalty, the hunting lodge on Morgan Isle was just about as stripped down and bare bones as it could be. It was a log cabin shell with a small kitchen, great room, two bathrooms—one on each floor—and four small, sparsely furnished bedrooms. Two upstairs, two down. And of course there were the obligatory stuffed dead animals all over the place.
There was no television or radio. No phone. Sam even insisted that he and Anne surrender their cell phones to Gunter, and made it clear that shy of a catastrophic disaster or urgent family matter, they were not to be disturbed. He didn’t want a single thing to distract them from his primary goal. Get Anne naked and keep her that way for the next six days. And she seemed to have the same thing in mind. When he’d commented on her conspicuous lack of luggage—she’d brought only one small bag—she’d shrugged and said, “It’s our honeymoon. What do I need clothes for?”
It was nice to know they were on the same page, since last night had been, by far, the hottest sex of his entire life. He’d been fantasizing about being with her for months, but the scenarios he’d created in his mind had paled in comparison to the real thing. And though he enjoyed getting off as much as the next man, nothing could have been more satisfying than watching Anne writhe and shudder in ecstasy. He’d made her come six times—six times—which under normal circumstances should have earned him some sort of accolade. But the truth was, he’d barely had to work at it.
He’d been with women who were difficult to please. But with Anne it didn’t make a difference what position they happened to be in—if he was on top or she was, or if he took her pressed up against the shower wall, which he’d done twice. All he had to do was play with a nipple—a suckle or a pinch—and she went off like a rocket.
They probably could have gone for seven, but by then she was exhausted and clenching her legs together, begging him to let her sleep. And he’d figured it was only fair to let her reserve some of her strength for the actual honeymoon.
It was a cool day, so while she took a shower, Sam changed into jeans and a sweater and built a fire in the stone fireplace in the great room. He checked the cupboards and refrigerator and found they were stocked with enough food to last a month.
He was just putting on a kettle for tea when Anne appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair wet and twisted up, held in place with a clip, wearing a black silk robe. Sam couldn’t help wondering if she wore anything underneath.
“I know this is a hunting lodge,” she said. “But do there have to be so many dead things mounted on the walls?”
“Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal in killing defenseless animals,” he told her, watching as she walked down the stairs. When she got the kitchen where he stood, she stopped, looked him up and down and smiled.
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen you dressed so casually.”
“It happens every now and then.”
“I like it.” She crossed the room to him and rose up to kiss him on the cheek.
She smelled clean and girly and looked delicious enough to eat. He was tempted to scoop her up and carry her off to bed that very instant, or even better, make love to her right there in the kitchen. The butcher-block table looked just the right height for fooling around, although it was pretty rough and scarred from many years of use. He didn’t want her getting splinters in her behind. Besides, they had all week. It had been a hectic few days and it would be nice to just relax for a while. Maybe even take a nap. Anne had slept like the dead last night but Sam had tossed and turned, worrying about this Gingerbread Man business.
If something had gone wrong with that bomb, if they had hit a pothole and it had detonated too soon, his uncle and aunt—two of the sweetest people he knew—could have been blown to kingdom come. He agreed with Anne that something needed to be done, but also saw Chris’s point, and he was right, it wasn’t worth putting someone’s life at risk.
He and Chris would have to have a serious talk when Sam and Anne returned to Thomas Isle. Maybe it was time they considered a new course of action.
“Is everything okay?” Anne asked, her brow wrinkled.
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You sort of drifted off there for a second.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Just thinking about what a lucky man I am.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled against him. “I feel lucky, too.”
“I was making tea. Would you like a cup?”
“I’d love one. Can I help?”
“You could find some honey. I think I saw it in the cupboard above the coffee maker.”
She rooted around in the cupboard while he took two cups and a box of tea bags out.
Suddenly she gasped and stepped back, clutching her belly. “Oh my God!”
Thinking she’d hurt herself, or something was wrong with the baby, he was instantly at her side. “What’s the matter? What can I do?”
She looked down at her stomach. “I think I just felt the baby kick.”
“You did?”
She nodded excitedly. “When I was pressed up against the cupboard. I’ve felt flutters before, almost like butterflies in my stomach, but this was different. Like a poke.” she said, demonstrating with her index finger on his stomach. “But from the inside. If you press down maybe you can feel it, too.”
She unbelted her robe and pulled it open and—bloody hell—was naked underneath. She took his hand and pressed his palm firmly over her belly.
“I don’t feel anything,” he said.
“Shh, just wait a minute.” She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.
Looking down, he realized he must have gotten a little carried away last night. She had a few faint love-bites on her breasts. He was willing to bet that he’d find some on her neck as well, and maybe one or two on her inner thighs.
Maybe it was wrong, but with her pressed up against him, smelling so sexy, her skin soft and warm, her breath hot on his neck, he was getting a hard-on. And he definitely wasn’t feeling the baby kick. Maybe it was too soon.
He started to move away but she held his hand firmly in place. “Just wait.”
He was convinced he wouldn’t feel anything, and when he actually did—a soft little bump-bump against his palm—he was so startled he almost pulled his hand away.
Her eyes darted up to his. “Did you feel it?”
He laughed in amazement. “I did.”
She smiled. “That’s our baby, Sam.”
He felt it again. Another bump-bump, as if the little guy—or girl—was in there saying, Hey, here I am.
He’d heard that for men, feeling their baby move for the first time often made the experience more real, which he’d always thought was total bollocks. It felt bloody well real to him the moment she broke the news. But now, after experiencing it, he suddenly realized what they meant. That was his baby. No longer just a concept, but something he could feel.
He kept his hand there, hoping it would happen again, but after several minutes more Anne said, “He must be asleep again.”
Sam smothered his disappointment and reluctantly pulled his hand away. The kettle had begun to boil, so Anne belted her robe and turned the burner off.
“Why don’t we have our tea by the fire?” she suggested.
While he fixed it, she pilfered a fluffy down comforter from one of the beds and spread it out on the floor. He carried their cups over and set them on the hearth.
Anne let her hair down and flopped onto her back, the sides of her robe slipping apart over her belly. Instead of readjusting it, she tugged the belt loose and let the whole thing fall open. He certainly couldn’t accuse her of being modest. Even that first night, during the ball, she hadn’t been shy about taking it all off. And he could never get tired of looking at her body.
He sat cross-legged facing her, thinking that if the baby started to kick again he would be right there to feel it.
She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “The heat from the fire feels nice.”
But a little too warm for the sweater he was wearing, so he pulled it up over his head and dropped it on the floor beside him. Anne was looking up at him, smiling.
“What?”
“You have a beautiful body. I like looking at it.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Does it bother you that I’m getting fat?”
He rolled his eyes. “You are not getting fat.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “My belly is going to get huge.”
“And it will look beautiful that way,” he assured her, pressing a kiss just above her navel.
“You know, I already found a stretch mark. By the time I give birth I could be covered in them.”
He examined her stomach but didn’t see anything but smooth, soft skin. “I don’t see any stretch marks.”
“It’s there.”
“Where?”
She reached down, feeling around the lowest part of her belly. “Right here…see?”
He leaned in to get a closer look and saw what was, at best, a microscopic imperfection that may or may not have been an actual stretch mark. “It’s tiny.”
“Yes, but it will probably get bigger, until it’s huge.”
He seriously doubted that, but her concern surprised him a little. She’d never struck him as the type to be hung up on body image. She seemed so comfortable in her own skin. “You could be covered with them and I wouldn’t think you were any less beautiful.” He stroked the offending area. Her skin was warm and rosy from the heat coming off the fire. “In fact, I happen to think it’s sexy.”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “And I think you’re full of bunk.”
“I mean it. If I found it off-putting, would I do this?”
He leaned down and kissed the spot, just a soft brush of his lips, and heard her inhale sharply.
When he lifted his head she had that heavy-lidded sleepy look that she got when she was turned on. And seeing her that way gave him an instant erection.
“See,” he said.
“I think there might be another one,” she said.
“Another stretch mark?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Really?” He manufactured concern. “Where?”
“This one is lower.”
“How low?”
“Oh, a couple of inches, maybe.”
He knew for a fact that there wasn’t one there, but he stifled a smile. “I didn’t see it.”
She put a hand on the back of his head and gently pushed it down. “I think you should look closer.”
Enjoying the game, he leaned in and pretended a thorough inspection, close enough that he was sure she could feel the whisper of his breath on her skin. He wasn’t sure what the Brazilian wax was doing for her, but he sure was enjoying it.
After a minute or so he shrugged and said. “Sorry, I just don’t see it.”
He tried to straighten up and she not-so-gently shoved his head back down.
“Look again.”
He smiled to himself. “Wait…oh yes, I see it now. Right here.” He pressed a kiss right at the apex of her puffy lips, paused, then swept his tongue between them.
Anne moaned and curled her fingers in his hair.
For a brief moment he considered torturing her a bit longer, but the sweet taste of her, her tantalizing scent drew him in like a bee to a flower. Unfortunately his jeans didn’t have a lot of give, and he was so hard that a few more minutes of bending over like this was going to do mortal damage. He stretched out beside her in the opposite direction, relieving the pressure, and in a millisecond Anne was tugging at his belt. She worked with impressive speed and in seconds had his erection out of his pants…and into her mouth. It felt so damned fantastic, he might have swallowed his tongue if wasn’t already buried in her.
Her mouth was so hot and wet and soft, and the damp ribbons of her hair brushing his stomach and thighs was unbelievably erotic. But when she reached into his jeans and cupped him…well, everything after that was a bit of a blur. A jumble of wet heat and intense pleasure, moans and whimpers that at times he wasn’t sure were from him or from her. Or both. Too soon he felt his control slipping, but he never came first. It was against his personal code of conduct. He considered it selfish and impolite. Fortunately, he knew exactly what to do.
When he’d reached the point of no return, he slid a hand up to her breasts, took her nipple between his fingers and squeezed. She moaned, and her body started to quake, which sent him right over the edge with her. He would have cursed in blissful agony if his mouth hadn’t been otherwise occupied. Afterward, she collapsed beside him and they lay side by side on the blanket, still facing opposite directions, breathing hard. He felt limp, as though every last bit of energy had been leeched from his body, and the heat from the fire was making him drowsy. Maybe now would be a good time for that nap.
His eyes drifted closed, but he felt Anne sit up beside him.
She gave him a shove. “Hey, wake up.”
“I’m tired,” he mumbled.
“But I’m not finished with you.”
“I can’t function. I need rest.”
That didn’t seem to deter her, because a second later he felt her tugging his jeans down and pulling them off. Now he was exhausted and naked. Did she really think that was going to help?
He opened one eye and peered up at her. She flashed him a wicked smile and, starting at his ankles, began kissing and licking her way up his body, and despite his fatigue, he was getting hard again. Apparently she wasn’t taking no for an answer this time. And it looked as though that nap would have to wait.
