BLADE'S LADY

by Fiona Brand

  Mike nodded, still eyeing Blade with a searching reserve, as if he would like to question him further. Blade let him look his fill, understanding that Mike wanted his own reassurance, because if he were in the same position, he would do exactly the same. Finally, Mike nodded and strolled back to the machine he'd been repairing.

  Blade turned, his gaze narrowing on Tony. "Where is she?"

  "Like I told you before, she didn't tell me where she was going."

  "Someone broke into her flat tonight. They trashed it."

  Blade saw the consternation on Tony's face and pushed his advantage. "I need to find her. I saw the guy leaving her flat. He's a professional hit man. I need to find her before he does."

  Tony swore softly beneath his breath. "I don't know where she went," he said, "but I can tell you where we can start looking. Anna spends a lot of time in libraries. She's writing a book. If we check out the libraries, she'll turn up."

  Chapter 7

  The next evening, the library was quiet, filled with the weighty hush of carefully turned pages, the low-level hum at the front desk as a steady stream of evening customers got their nightly fix of reading material, plus the occasional creak or scrape of a chair as reading tables were used and abandoned.

  Anna chose another book from her pile of legal tomes and began checking the index for references on the whole grey area of declaring a missing person dead.

  From what she could discover, Henry must have applied to hold an inquest into her "death." He had obviously been instructed by the court to advertise his intention to have her declared dead in all the major newspapers. Without a body – and with doubt being cast on her "death" by a number of unsubstantiated reports from supposed eyewitnesses – there was no clear evidence that she was dead, just missing.

  He had been forced to endure the maximum legal waiting period of seven years because of the doubt – and to allay suspicion. If he had tried to declare her dead immediately after her car had been found, half submerged, at the base of the cliff, there would have been suspicion, because she had approached the police just months before, after a so-called accident when she had been sideswiped by a car. Even if nothing could be proven, Henry's interest in her death would have been clear.

  But Henry's need to legally establish her death was perfectly understandable and logical at this point. He had waited the allotted time, as the situation with his troublesome stepdaughter had dragged on. He had been managing Tarrant Holdings for years; it was rightfully his in all the ways that counted. The legal proceedings would barely cause a ripple in the business world.

  She flicked open her briefcase and pulled out a folder of newspaper clippings, most of them yellowed with age. There were several that reported unconfirmed sightings of the Tarrant heiress, and they had succeeded in muddying Henry's legal waters even further. According to the guidelines for coroners she'd just read, any element of doubt would stay the proceedings. She would still need to prove her identity, but that was a separate issue. All she had to do was present herself at a police station, or at her solicitor's, and swear an affidavit that she was Anna Tarrant, and the proceedings to have her declared dead would be halted.

  A wave of relief swept her. She would still have a fight on her hands, a battle to stay alive, but that she could handle.

  *

  Blade strode up the library steps, pausing to allow a stream of students loaded down with books through the door. Along with the help of the Fa'alau family and a security firm he'd hired, he'd had every library in the city staked out, and it had paid off.

  He'd expected to have to wait several days for Anna to show up, but even so, the hours he had waited were too long. Impatience rode him hard, and he had to keep a rigid clamp on his temper.

  His jaw tightened on a fresh surge of disbelief and outrage that she had run from him.

  He had been spoiled when it came to women, he knew it, and he had enjoyed the attention. Maybe that was no excuse for the betrayal he felt, but dammit, he was used to women seeking him out, not running away. That the woman he had been dreaming about for half his life – the woman who had obsessed him for years – had walked away without a backward glance, as if he were no more than some casual acquaintance, drove him crazy.

  Blade saw her as soon as he walked into the reading room – and she saw him.

  Her eyes widened in horror – just the kind of effect he loved to have on the ladies. She jumped to her feet and began stuffing papers into her briefcase.

  Incredulous fury filled Blade as he watched her slam the briefcase closed and dart behind a set of shelves. Even now, she was running from him.

  It wasn't hard to catch her; whichever direction she ran, she couldn't get out unless she went past him to the main door. He caught her as she tried to dodge around another aisle of bookcases. His hand curved around her upper arm, stopping her short. He shuddered inside at that simple touch, his fingers tightening convulsively. She was wearing the same drab raincoat she'd had on the other night, but it didn't seem to matter; whatever special quality the lady had, whatever chemical attraction existed between them, she could be wearing a sack and she would still turn him on.

  This time she didn't try to hit or kick him – he supposed he should be thankful for small mercies – instead she went very still.

  Abruptly, she turned on him. "Leave me alone."

  She jerked against his hold, making him feel like a villain. Blade let her go, and she stumbled back in her haste to be free of him. The briefcase she was holding clamped under one arm slipped and gaped open, spilling papers on the floor.

  "Now look what you've done!" She shot him an accusing glare that did make him feel like a villain as she bent to retrieve them.

  Blade went down on his haunches to help her. He picked up a handful of old, yellowed newspaper clippings.

  She snatched them from his grasp. "How did you find me?"

  Bemused, he watched the feverish speed of her hands as she stuffed papers into the case. "Tony said you hang out at libraries."

  "Tony wouldn't tell anyone—"

  Blade's eyes narrowed with annoyance. "He didn't tell anyone." He sucked in a breath, amazed to find that his heart was pounding and he actually felt nervous. "He told me where you were likely to be because he trusts me." Unlike some people.

  Her expression said that Tony was the biggest fool in this corner of the known universe. "How did you know I was in this library?"

  "I had people watching all of them."

  He saw the widening of her eyes as she absorbed the massive manpower he had utilised to find her, the fear that jerked through her and was just as quickly hidden. "Anna," he said, low and rough, "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you were in some kind of trouble. We've got to talk—"

  She shook her head. "We've got nothing to talk about."

  Nothing to talk about?

  His breath sifted from between clenched teeth, and he fought the desire to grab her close and find out firsthand if her lush, pale mouth was as soft as it looked. She'd been invading his head for years, and she didn't want to talk about it?

  He felt incredulous, he felt insane – and through it all he still wanted her. He should do it, kiss her – the hell with chivalry. He needed to kiss her, hold her. He needed to have her clinging to him. The compulsion to simply grab her was almost overwhelming.

  She was all business as she shoved the last crumpled paper in the case. More papers fell out, and she sank to her knees and began the struggle to repack the case all over again. Blade was certain he saw the glitter of tears in her eyes, and something twisted deep inside him. He had pushed her too far, more concerned with his own ego, his male pride, than whatever demons she was fighting. She was crying, and it was his fault.

  He gathered her hands in his. When she didn't resist, he stood, coaxing her up, his hands settling on her arms, rubbing, soothing. She didn't try to wrench free of his grasp or resist him in any way, and conversely, now he wanted her to fight.

  After h
er frantic attempt to escape, she was unnaturally still, her eyes suspiciously bright, but remote, as if she wasn't quite meeting his gaze. "I thought that once I left, you would forget about me."

  Her statement was curiously calm and reasoned after the way she'd tried to run, but Blade didn't miss the flash of vulnerability in her eyes. She had expected him to forget, but she hadn't wanted him to. Satisfaction eased some of his ferocious tension.

  "I can't forget you," he said bluntly. And just in case she was still having difficulty grasping the concept, he added, "I want you." It was ground out between clenched teeth, low and harsh, but he couldn't be soft and gentle when he was burning up inside, when he'd been on edge for hours while he searched for her, wondering if he would be too late.

  He wanted her. It was the truth, and he didn't like it.

  He didn't understand the bond between them, and he hadn't asked for it; all he knew was that he had to have her, and there was no room for subtlety. He had to lay claim, now, to get her to trust him, to tell him what she was running from and let him help her.

  The pupils of her eyes dilated wildly, black swamping silvery-grey until he thought she might faint, but she remained steady in his grasp. The only other physical betrayal was the quickness of her breathing.

  Oh, yeah, he thought grimly, Blade Lombard, master of seduction. First he strikes horror into her fragile soul, then he comes on to her with about as much subtlety as a stag in rut. He now fully understood why his brother, Gray, had gone to pieces when he'd been courting Sam, the woman he had married. Gray would be rolling on the floor, roaring with laughter, if he ever found out about any of this.

  Despite his bluntness, he could almost hear Anna's agile mind ticking over, searching for a loophole in what he'd just said. He had to wonder what had made her so suspicious of relationships and so utterly lacking in self-confidence. A woman who looked like Anna would have had plenty of men hitting on her regardless of the fact that she didn't seem to do one thing to try to attract them.

  She shook her head, as if coming to a decision. "You should let me go, Blade."

  Her voice was low, strained, and Blade couldn't help thinking there were a lot of other words, other phrases, he would like to hear that mouth shaping, but words weren't necessary. She wanted him. He saw it in her eyes, felt it deep and hard in his gut.

  He lowered his lashes to veil the shock of raw desire that ran through him, the instant heaviness in his loins. She was so damn skittish, he didn't want to scare her any more than he already had. For some reason, she felt she had to push him away.

  Before they made love, he would find out what the reason was and fix it, because once he had her in his bed, he didn't want any more secrets between them. He didn't want to go to sleep wondering if she would still be beside him when he woke up the next morning.

  But now wasn't the time to push for more physical intimacy. He'd already gained far more than he had expected. If she needed time to accept his presence, his touch, then she could have it, but he wasn't backing off. And he wasn't letting her out of his sight, not with a hit man like Seber on her tail.

  "Do you want me to let you go?" he asked, the question forced from him. He waited, every muscle clenched against her response.

  For an endless moment her eyes were wide and blank and curiously lost. "No," she said huskily.

  Relief poured through Blade, swiftly followed by elation, but he forced himself to release her and step slowly back. It wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to snatch her up and take her back to his place and spend the rest of the night in bed, making love. He wanted to have her naked beneath him and keep her there until she knew that was where she belonged. But if he wanted to gain her trust, he had to start somewhere. He had pushed her hard enough for now.

  Anna swayed where she stood, bracing herself against the emotions that tumbled through her mind and rioted through her body. When Blade had asked her if she wanted him to let her go, he hadn't been talking about his physical hold on her arms. She hadn't been able to lie, but she had just agreed to … what?

  He'd come after her, and he had found her, using all the considerable resources at his disposal. When his dark gaze had fastened on hers it had been sharp, predatory, and for an endless moment she had been unable to breathe, almost strangled by disbelief and her own longing. He was dressed in scuffed boots, a snug pair of faded jeans, a white T-shirt that clung to his broad chest and a supple black leather jacket. In the dull confines of the library he had looked big and dangerous and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

  She hadn't thought about Henry or running for her life. She had instantly known that the source of Blade's fury had been that she had run out on him. She had read his sexual intent and panicked, although she suspected sex was the wrong word to describe what Blade wanted. With him, the act would be elemental, powerful, and he would be wickedly good at it.

  Heat burned deep inside her when she considered how she knew so much about Blade's sexual prowess. He would sweep her up, sweep her away, like the river that had almost taken her life when she was eleven. She would be lost. She knew it as surely as she knew Henry wanted her dead, but the temptation to take those few hours or days, to give herself over to the raw power of his lovemaking, the tender intensity of his touch, had smashed down every last defence. She'd had so little, taken so little, for herself. She had looked into Blade's eyes and quite simply been overwhelmed.

  Blade stooped to pick up her case and a loose clipping that lay beneath it. She retrieved the clipping from between his fingers, barely restraining herself from snatching again, and stuffed it in her jeans pocket so he couldn't read any more than he already had.

  She could feel his gaze like an actual weight on her skin, and her pulse kicked wildly.

  "Have you eaten?"

  She blinked, surprised by the innocuous question. She'd expected him to ask about the newspaper cutting or why she'd run from him. A hundred questions but that one. "No."

  "Okay, I'll give Tony a ring, so he can call off the troops, and then we'll go and get some dinner."

  Anna went very still inside. "Tony's been out looking for me, too?"

  "He was worried about you, just like I was."

  "I'm not used to people … worrying."

  "Then you better get used to it – fast."

  Her stomach clenched, distracting her from asking why Tony had been worried enough to go out searching.

  Blade picked up her hand, laced her fingers with his in a slow, deliberate movement. His hand was large and darkly tanned, and it completely engulfed hers. It would be like that in bed, she thought. He was so big and broadly muscled; she would be helpless against him. Yet his hold was gentle, controlled, as if he was very aware of his strength and was careful not to hurt her.

  He didn't try to pull her along to the door but waited patiently, watching her with a calm intensity. He wanted to mould her to his will, but he was asking … after a fashion. He looked so bad-tempered beneath it all, heat smouldering beneath all that steely control, that a wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she felt the subtle shift inside her caused by that brief moment of humour – the warm rush of emotion that rolled through her with the lazy power of an ocean swell, threatening to knock her off her feet. She felt the moment she fell in love.

  Abruptly, the shimmering warmth changed to dizziness as the room began circling slowly around her.

  "Don't faint on me now," Blade murmured right next to her ear. His arm was at her back, supporting her, easing her forward until her face was buried against his chest. She rested against him, drinking in his hot, male scent and wondering if she should tell him that this wasn't helping one little bit. How was she supposed to resist him, how on earth was she supposed to pull back from loving him, when he kept making her fall deeper and deeper?

  His hand pressed the small of her back, urging her closer still. She felt his chin brush the top of her head.

  "Tell me you're not fainting because I've just offered to buy you dinner."
His voice was little more than a rumbling vibration against her ear.

  "I'm not fainting because you offered to buy me dinner."

  He eased her slightly away from him, his expression whimsical, searching. She felt his fingers at her wrist and realised he was taking her pulse.

  "You need to eat."

  "Not hamburgers."

  Amusement tugged at his mouth. "Hell, no. Are you all right to walk, or should I carry you?"

  He was serious. If she wanted, he would pick her up and carry her.

  Anna shook her head in bemusement. "I can walk."

  "Damn," he said softly. His smile turned into one of those mesmerising grins as he kept his arm around her and started toward the exit. "We won't go near a hamburger joint," he promised. "You can have anything you want. Pizza, sushi, Chinese. Anything. Just name it."

  Happiness unfolded itself somewhere in the region of her heart and bubbled giddily through her veins. She should hold on to caution, tell him no, because the plain fact was that this man was dangerous to her. He was holding her close against his side as if she were something precious. They were going to eat dinner somewhere – she was hungry, starved – and she was drunk on the sheer delight of just being with him.

  *

  He took her to a small Italian restaurant with warm, sun-browned walls, tables covered in checkered cloths and decorated with candles stuck into Chianti bottles. There were plenty of customers wearing jeans and sweaters, so she didn't feel out of place.

  They ate pasta and salad, and drank ice water. Blade didn't order any alcohol, and she didn't need it; her blood was literally fizzing through her veins.

  He didn't question her any further, even though she could feel the weight of all he wanted to ask. For the moment he seemed content to tell her about his family, the new house he was building and the horse stud he had planned, the oil painting he was working on in his spare time, the casino that was being added on to the Lombard Hotel complex. She knew he was deliberately relaxing her, but she didn't care.