“No. I...” He gave a hard jerk with his arms, and his hands came free. “There.” He bent and worked frantically at the rope around his ankles.
From outside came the sound of the station wagon’s engine, straining to turn over, the way it always did after it had sat unused for a few days.
The rope around his ankles gave and Connor lunged from the chair. “I’ll be back for you,” he said, rushing past her.
“But...Connor, wait....”
He was already out the door.
Gaby heard the engine roar and catch, and her heart raced like a runaway train. She pulled at the ropes, seething with frustration, when the glint of metal caught her eye. The seam ripper lay where Connor had dropped it, on the floor about five feet away.
She quickly worked her way to the edge of the sofa cushion and slipped off it so her back was to the seam ripper. Leaning back so far it hurt, she fumbled around for it with her fingers, finally managing to locate it, position it so she could grasp it and pick it up.
It took several tries for her to get it pointed in the right direction. Her hand cramped with the effort, and sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped into her eyes. She couldn’t imagine how Connor had managed this with his sore hand. He must have been working on it the entire time that Toby and she were being tied up and while Adam went upstairs to get the phone.
The ripper would slice through a few strands of the coiled rope and then slip before she would have to maneuver it back into position all over again. She heard noises coming from outside, but she couldn’t tell what was happening. Finally she could feel what remained of the rope slacken and she followed Connor’s example and gave a mighty tug. It took her a second try, but finally the last strands of rope gave way.
It was much easier to cut through the rope on her ankles, where she could see what she was doing. A minute later she was free and racing for the door.
She ran across the deck and down the stairs to the driveway.
About twenty yards away she saw Connor and Adam on the ground, rolling in a patch of dirt and rocks by the edge of the woods. At first Connor was on top, then Adam reared up and sent him flying onto his back, coming down on top of him with his fist flying toward Connor’s face.
Gaby grunted and saw the gun lying on the driveway and realized Toby was alone in the car with the engine running all in the same instant.
She ran to the open driver’s door. Toby was on his knees on the passenger seat, whimpering.
“Get out,” she said, reaching for him.
He shook his head. “Wolf said... Wolf said...” He was trying to talk around his tears. “...stay here.”
“All right,” she said, deciding Connor was right, that he was probably as safe there as anywhere. She reached to turn off the engine. “Stay there and I’ll be right back for you.”
She slammed the door shut and ran to pick up the gun. It felt heavy and awkward in her hand. She grasped it with both hands, the way she had seen Connor do, and walked toward where he and Adam were still locked in battle.
At the moment Connor was on top. His hand was covered with blood, and red streaks covered his face and neck and what was left of the shirt that had been almost ripped off him.
Adam was bloodied, too, but thoughts of Joel and Toby and the sight of Connor’s blood-soaked fist and battered face stopped her from feeling anything for him but hatred, powerful enough to make her overcome the cautious ways of a lifetime, raw enough to make her do whatever she had to do to stop him.
She lowered the gun until it was aimed directly at Adam’s head.
“Stop,” she ordered. They kept fighting, oblivious to her. She stepped closer and shouted with steadily increasing fury, “Stop. Stop. Stop.”
Both men froze. They turned to look up at her just as a police car pulled into her view across the lake, headed their way and sending the torrent of tears she’d been holding back streaming down Gaby’s face.
The two young state police officers, who’d thought they were there on a simple escort assignment, were first surprised and then thrilled to discover that they were going to be the arresting officers in what they knew was a very big investigation.
Adam didn’t resist and he didn’t look at her as they handcuffed him, read him his rights and led him like a beaten dog to the back of the police car. She wished he had. She wanted him to see exactly how much she despised him. Not for her own sake or because of the heartless way he had tried to use her, but for the pain and suffering he had inflicted on those she loved, on Toby and Connor. And most of all, for Joel’s sake.
The officers offered to call for another car to drive her and Toby back to the city, but Connor insisted he was capable of doing it himself and was damn well going to do it. He made it clear he wasn’t letting them out of his sight until he was absolutely certain they weren’t in any danger from anyone.
Besides, he said to her alone as he helped her into the car, he had something important he needed to ask her.
Gaby gratefully consented to letting him take them home. Bloodied and bruised as he was, there was no one she trusted more.
As for Adam, she thought as the police car with him locked inside pulled out ahead of them, there would be plenty of times ahead for her to make it plain to everyone how she felt about him . . . at the arraignment, the trial, the sentencing. And she would be there for all of it, no matter how grueling, no matter how long. If for no other reason, she would be there for Joel.
During the drive home she spent most of her time and attention reassuring Toby and answering his questions. His grasp on the details of what had happened was hazy, and Gaby decided that for now it was best to leave it that way. He was adamant about one thing, however, that Adam was a bad man. She decided to leave that alone, too.
Marino called on the cellular phone. Connor spoke to him briefly, saying he would fill in all the details later.
The phone was ringing as they walked in the door at her house. Captain Marino again. Shortly later he, along with several other officers, came to the house to take their statements, sparing them a trip to headquarters. Gaby thanked them graciously for going out of their way, but the truth was there was no way she would have left Toby or dragged him out again to go answer questions for anyone.
Marino also arranged for a medic to stop by and tend to Connor’s hand, removing the stitches that had been broken during the fight with Adam and replacing them with fresh and considerably more professional ones.
When the police were done with them, she still had to call her mother to explain what had happened before she heard it on the news or read the morning headlines. Her mother had dozens of questions, about Toby, about her, about what was going to happen next. Gaby filled her in as best she could, promised to call her as soon as she learned anything more and reassured her over and over that they really were okay.
And they were. Thanks to Connor.
It was very late, after she’d answered all the questions and reassured everyone who needed reassuring and had rocked Toby to sleep, that Gaby remembered Connor had said he had something important he wanted to ask her.
They were standing in the kitchen. She had just poured two glasses of wine. She turned, curious, and found him watching her with such blatant hunger she was rendered speechless. And breathless. And boneless, too, or so it seemed as, without thinking, she found herself floating into his arms, melting into him, going all heat and liquid under the quick, fiery possession of his mouth.
He kissed her long and hard and deep, the rough thrusts of his tongue foretelling a possession of the most fundamental sort.
Gaby’s pulse skittered and raced in anticipation. Even through her clothes her skin felt singed everywhere that he touched her, her throat, her breasts, the backs of her thighs.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were bright with desire.
“Please,” he murmured, kissing her face, the side of her neck. “Please.”
“Oh, yes,” Gaby gasped as his teeth found the tip of her e
arlobe.
“Now?” he asked.
“Yes, oh, yes.”
He lifted his head again, smiling now, excited and impatient. “Where?”
Gaby took his hand and led him upstairs to her bedroom and inside. She locked the door behind him.
They tore at each other’s clothes, leaving them scattered as they made their way across the room. When they were both naked, Connor lifted her, kissed her and placed her in the center of the big bed. The feel of the silk coverlet against her back was nowhere near as arousing to her senses as the feel of his skin against hers, his knee nudging hers apart, his tongue everywhere.
With his mouth and his teeth and the clever touch of his strong hands, he drove her steadily higher. She was racing, rising, falling, moving out of herself and into a realm where he was master and she was happy to be tamed.
There would be other times for them, many other times; she knew that now with a calming certainty. Slower, lazier times when she would be master and he would be tamed. There would be endless, sinuous nights when the passion between them would build stroke by stroke, layer by layer. But not tonight. Tonight she wanted only this, the fast, molten ride he was taking her on, his mouth streaking over her body, claiming her, sending her soaring.
He shifted her under him, gripping her hips, bringing her up off the mattress as he brought his body down and into hers. Hot, mindless pleasure jackknifed through her. Excitement hummed inside her everywhere.
His hips rocked against hers, ruthlessly, relentlessly, driving him deeper and deeper into her as he drove her higher and higher with pleasure.
Gaby welcomed him, urging him on with her hands and her soft cries until the tiny ripples began their dance deep inside her. They rushed through her as her mouth opened on a soft, silent scream, and she pulled him closer, impossibly closer, and felt him begin to shudder, too, felt everything that was happening inside her echoing inside him as they raced over the edge together.
Gaby closed her eyes. Opened them. Felt him still pulsing inside her, echoing the rhythm of her heart, which was beating in perfect time with his. She was home.
She smiled against his chest, pressing a kiss to his imperfect flesh and touching him there with her tongue, tasting salt and man. He sighed, a sound of satisfaction, of passions faced and desires met.
He lifted his head and took her face between his rough palms. “I love you,” he said. “I love you, Gaby, and you have to believe me because I’ve never said those words to a woman before and I don’t know how to convince you they’re true.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” she said, her hands moving over his damp back, coasting over scar and muscle and bone, glorying in all of it, in all of him. “I believe you. And I love you. And I need you, Connor.”
“You’re mine,” he said, his rough tone full of wonder.
“Yes. Forever.” She lifted her head to kiss his lips and added, “On two conditions.”
Connor’s eyes went black. “What conditions?”
“First that you never ever walk out and leave me tied up again.”
His smile came slowly and was edged with relief. “I think I can agree to that. What’s number two?”
“That you ask me the important question you wanted to ask me.”
“Oh. That.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile sheepish. “It may be a bit anticlimactic under the present circumstances.” He moved his hips against her provocatively.
Gaby reciprocated and made his breath catch low in his throat. “Try me.”
“I wanted to ask you what a big jerk like me has to do to get a second chance with woman like you?”
Gaby touched his cheek, her eyes filled with love for him. “You just did it,” she told him softly.
Connor gave her a bewildered look that melted her heart all over again.
“You asked me,” she explained, reaching for him. “That’s all you ever had to do. Just ask.”
Epilogue
It was a perfect day for a wedding.
The wind-driven rain had forced Gaby and her sister to wait inside the damp vestibule of the church for the start of the processional. Gaby considered it a blessing that it was rain and not snow, since this was being touted as the coldest November on record. In the shoes she was wearing, she’d rather dodge puddles than snowdrifts any day.
They had arrived at the church behind schedule after the limo driver took a wrong turn. Then, at the last minute Lisa realized she was still holding the rings and had to hurry down the side aisle to give them to the best man, leaving Gaby alone with her thoughts.
She was thinking that Toby better hold on tight to those rings until the moment came for him to hand them over to Connor. And that he better not fiddle so much with his bow tie that it came loose during the ceremony. He was taking his best-man responsibilities very seriously and was a little nervous.
The organ sounded the first dramatic introductory notes.
Hurry, Lisa, she thought, please hurry.
She ran her fingers through the front of her hair, worn loose beneath the short lace veil that matched her simple ivory wool suit and took a step forward to look for Lisa. She was on her way back down the aisle. She broke into a broad smile as she arrived, slightly breathless, in the church entry.
“Ready?” she asked Gaby.
“Absolutely,” Gaby replied. She gave her sister a quick hug, followed by a wave of her arm. “After you.”
Lisa preceded her into the church.
Gaby paused in the archway, as they had rehearsed, and saw the gathering of family and friends stand and turn to look at her. Her own gaze moved past them, drawn to the little boy and the man who stood side by side before the altar at the other end of that long row of flower-trimmed pews, both of them looking at her and smiling. Her son and the man she loved.
Her whole world was waiting for her.
She took a deep breath, her heart racing with excitement, feeling happier and surer and more eager than she ever hoped to feel again, feeling like exactly what she was . . . the luckiest woman in the world.
Outside, the wind howled and the lights overhead flickered, threatening the second power failure of the morning. It didn’t matter. There would still be candles. And Connor.
Yes, Gaby thought as her eyes met his and she started down the aisle, a perfect day for a wedding.
The first book in the exciting new Fortune’s Children series is
HIRED HUSBAND
by New York Times bestselling writer
Rebecca Brandewyne
Beginning in July 1996
Only from Silhouette Books
Here’s an exciting sneak preview. . . .
Minneapolis, Minnesota
As Caroline Fortune wheeled her dark blue Volvo into the underground parking lot of the towering, glass-and-steel structure that housed the global headquarters of Fortune Cosmetics, she glanced anxiously at her gold Piaget wristwatch. An accident on the snowy freeway had caused rush-hour traffic to be a nightmare this morning. As a result, she was running late for her 9:00 a.m. meeting—and if there was one thing her grandmother, Kate Winfield Fortune, simply couldn’t abide, it was slack, unprofessional behavior on the job. And lateness was the sign of a sloppy, disorganized schedule.
Involuntarily, Caroline shuddered at the thought of her grandmother’s infamous wrath being unleashed upon her. The stern rebuke would be precise, apropos, scathing and delivered with coolly raised, condemnatory eyebrows and in icy tones of haughty grandeur that had in the past reduced many an executive—even the male ones—at Fortune Cosmetics not only to obsequious apologies, but even to tears. Caroline had seen it happen on more than one occasion, although, much to her gratitude and relief, she herself was seldom a target of her grandmother’s anger. And she wouldn’t be this morning, either, not if she could help it. That would be a disastrous way to start out the new year.
Grabbing her Louis Vuitton tote bag and her black leather portfolio from the front passenger seat, Caroline stepped
gracefully from the Volvo and slammed the door. The heels of her Maud Frizon pumps clicked briskly on the concrete floor as she hurried toward the bank of elevators that would take her up into the skyscraper owned by her family. As the elevator doors slid open, she rushed down the long, plushly carpeted corridors of one of the hushed upper floors toward the conference room.
By now Caroline had her portfolio open and was leafing through it as she hastened along, reviewing her notes she had prepared for her presentation. So she didn’t see Dr. Nicolai Valkov until she literally ran right into him. Like her, he had his head bent over his own portfolio, not watching where he was going. As the two of them collided, both their portfolios and the papers inside went flying. At the unexpected impact, Caroline lost her balance, stumbled, and would have fallen had not Nick’s strong, sure hands abruptly shot out, grabbing hold of her and pulling her to him to steady her. She gasped, startled and stricken, as she came up hard against his broad chest, lean hips and corded thighs, her face just inches from his own—as though they were lovers about to kiss.
Caroline had never been so close to Nick Valkov before, and, in that instant, she was acutely aware of him—not just as a fellow employee of Fortune Cosmetics but also as a man. Of how tall and ruggedly handsome he was, dressed in an elegant, pinstriped black suit cut in the European fashion, a crisp white shirt, a foulard tie and a pair of Cole Haan loafers. Of how dark his thick, glossy hair and his deep-set eyes framed by raven-wing brows were—so dark that they were almost black, despite the bright, fluorescent lights that blazed overhead. Of the whiteness of his straight teeth against his bronzed skin as a brazen, mocking grin slowly curved his wide, sensual mouth.
“Actually, I was hoping for a sweet roll this morning—but I daresay you would prove even tastier, Ms. Fortune,” Nick drawled impertinently, his low, silky voice tinged with a faint accent born of the fact that Russian, not English, was his native language.
At his words, Caroline flushed painfully, embarrassed and annoyed. If there was one person she always attempted to avoid at Fortune Cosmetics, it was Nick Valkov. Following the breakup of the Soviet Union, he had emigrated to the United States, where her grandmother had hired him to direct the company’s research and development department. Since that time, Nick had constantly demonstrated marked, traditional, Old World tendencies that had led Caroline to believe he not only had no use for equal rights but also would actually have been more than happy to turn back the clock several centuries where females were concerned. She thought his remark was typical of his attitude toward women: insolent, arrogant and domineering. Really, the man was simply insufferable!
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