by C. J. Bahr
“Maybe,” she gave him a tentative smile.
They reached the head of the small inlet leading into the ocean. Luckily the swells were small for this part of the Atlantic.
“Help me get a sail up.”
“Um, I’ve been sailing, but only as a passenger. I don’t know what to do.” Laurel shrugged.
“Well then, it’s time you learned.”
He gave her instruction and the two of them got the canvas raised, the wind catching it with a loud snap and shooting them forward. He coaxed her to his side so he could teach her how to steer. Any excuse getting her close. He’d certainly take every advantage to lean up against her and wrap his arms around her from behind in order to show her how to handle the boom. She relaxed against him and even laughed a time or two as she tackled the current and swells while trying to remain on course. Aye, a cave was a grand idea.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“There. You see it?” Alex pointed as Laurel sighted down his finger. “The black smudge. Tack a little more to the right.”
She adjusted the sail, and the boat skipped across a wave, spraying them with blast of cold water. She squealed, but held tight to their course.
“Just a moment more...now. Lower the sail,” he commanded.
Their movements were sharp and fast and the sail dropped. He reached for the oars and locked them into place.
“We’ll row from here on out. It’s safer. Though I’ve known a few crazed souls who shoot the caves, blazing in with their canvas up. Suicide if they miss at speed.”
Not ten minutes more, Alex rowed them into the dark entrance of a sea cave.
“There’s a torch in the box next to you.”
She rummaged through the equipment, pulling out the light and snapped it on.
A large channel greeted them with limestone outcroppings on either side well above their heads. The cave was deep, the light of the torch not reaching the far end, but it still showed crusty stalactites clinging to the roof.
“See if you can find a place to tie off.”
“Will that do?” She pointed the light to an over-hanging branch of stone a bit ahead. It almost looked like an arm to Alex.
“Aye, that’ll do.”
He rowed, luckily the current helped and they reached the outcropping in short order. He released an oar and jammed it into a crevice. “Lass, toss a rope around and tie us off.”
Laurel scrambled off her seat, grabbed the mooring line, and efficiently looped it around the stone. She made a quick slipknot and turned back to him.
“How’s that?”
“Great.” He put the oar back in the skiff and stood, walking carefully to her side. “Let me give you a boost.” Alex cupped his hands and started to lean over.
“Are you sure? If I jump, won’t the boat pitch?”
“Don’t jump. Just start climbing while I lift.”
Taking his suggestion, she placed her foot in his hands and reached for the limestone, finding handholds were no problem in the pitted rough rocks. As she started to haul herself upwards, Alex straightened, aiding her ascent. She gained the ledge and leveraged her arms up.
“I’m good,” she called down.
He released her and watched her feet gain purchase then pull herself onto the ledge. Sitting with her legs dangling over the edge, she looked down at him.
“Need a hand up?” She offered while extending her arm. “I’m not a professional like you or your assistants, but I’m sure I can lend you a hand.”
“Nay, I’m good. Just clear me some space,” he replied. “I’m use to doing things on my own, remember? I don’t need partners, too complicated.”
She got out of his way and without much effort Alex scaled the stone face and reached the ledge. He double-checked the mooring line before swinging the rest of the way up. He stood dusting himself off then reached behind him and pulled out the torch he had shoved in his back pocket.
“Right then, ready to hunt for some treasure?” He grinned at her.
She didn’t answer him immediately. The American was actually frowning as she looked around the cave, instead of making eye contact. That wouldn’t do.
“Scared? There’s no reason to worry. You’re with an expert. I practically live in caves,” he chuckled then closed the distance separating them, taking her hand, and giving it a squeeze. “You’re safe with me.”
She stiffened at the contact before relaxing, and then shook her head. “It’s not that. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Or at least I hope not,” Laurel said as she finally looked at him. “It’s just...Oh, never mind.” She squeezed his hand back. “Show me the money,” she chuckled at her own bad joke.
“Aye, indeed. This way.”
Alex gave a gentle tug to get her moving and started to survey his surroundings. He needed just the right spot. Shining the torch ahead, he spotted it. There was another ledge in the limestone that was perfect, a little higher than bench height, it was deep as it was long. It would easily fit two adults. He smiled.
“And here we are.”
“Where?” Laurel looked around. “I’m not seeing any gold or jewels. Some treasure hunter you are.”
“Ah, but you’re not looking in the right place.”
Before she could respond, he backed her against the ledge. When her legs hit the stone, she abruptly sat. Alex lifted his hand and cupped her chin, raising her face so he could look her in the eye. “The treasure is right before me.”
Her face flushed. “Alex.”
“Hush, lass.” He leaned forward and kissed her. Her lips were as full and soft as he remembered. Licking them, he urged her to open for him. He slid his tongue in slowly, relishing the taste of her, sweet and fresh, but warm like honey. His hand slid around to cup the back of her head, her long ponytail teasing his skin.
He laid the torch next to her and with his newly freed hand placed it on her knee and coaxed her legs apart. He stepped between them, and in a slow gentle caress up her thigh to her hip, he tugged her closer to the edge. His blood stirred and pooled, making his jeans tight. It was then he noticed she wasn’t kissing him back. There was no passion from her. He broke the kiss, but didn’t release her.
“What’s wrong, Lori?” His voice was rough with his arousal, but he tried to temper it, not wanting to spook her. His hand gently stroked her hair. “Tell me, lass.”
“Alex...I,” she shook her head and dropped her gaze.
His hand left her hair and cupped her chin once more, tilting her face upward. “You know I’m attracted to you. I thought the same of you. Has something changed?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know, maybe it’s just this place.”
Alex backed away a few steps, his arms dropping to his sides, giving her the space she so obviously needed. What the bloody hell was going on?
“I don’t understand, Laurel.”
“I guess it’s just the atmosphere,” she slid off the ledge and gained her feet. “I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”
He stood mute, waiting for her to continue. He had no idea what she was nattering on about. His frustration grew. All he really wanted to do was lay her down on the ledge, strip off her jeans, and plunge himself deep inside. Have her cry out her passion as he did. He knew it would be good, if not better, than his tormented nightly fantasies.
“All I keep imagining is being trapped inside here, with no light, no hope. Dying alone.”
It took a moment for his lust-addled wits to catch up to her words. What the bloody hell? How could she...
He stepped close, invading her space, trapping her against the ledge. He raised his hand and gently gripped her neck. “What made you think of that?” His voice was low and soft, and he never took his eyes from hers. It had to be coincidence, nothing more. There was no ghost.
“I...” Laurel tensed. “I don’t know.”
He unconsciously tightened his grip on her neck. “I think you’re not telling me the truth, lass. Who put this idea in your head?”
It had to be Grant. He was the only one beside himself who knew how MacKay had died. Grant would be joining MacKay shortly if he was the one telling tales. He needed the American on his side. She might very well be the key to finding the treasure.
“No one. Alex, you’re hurting me.” Her voice gained strength as she stiffened her spine. She tried to move away from him, but he had her effectively pinned by his body and the hold on her neck.
“Tell me.”
“Let go.” She managed to get her hands between them and shoved.
He was ready for her and didn’t budge an inch. “Who told you about dying in a cave?”
“No one. Damn it, Alex. Let me go, you ass.” She shoved again with the same results. He felt her start to tremble. There was no hiding it when he was pressed against her. Good. She realized she couldn’t get away. Maybe, finally, he’d get the truth from her.
“Alex, please.” Her voice was a whisper.
He released her and stepped away. She sagged against the outcropping and took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Lori,” he looked away trying to hide his frustration. He couldn’t completely alienate her. “I don’t like the thought of anyone scaring you. You can tell me. If it was Grant, I’ll just have a few words with him.” Some he’ll never forget. “He shouldn’t have scared you. There’s nothing to be afraid of in these caves.”
He turned back to face her. He found her staring at him with a hand to her throat, massaging away the pressure left by his grip. “Forgive me?”
She finally met his gaze. “It wasn’t Grant,” her voice was timid but grew in strength once more. “I have an active imagination.” She straightened and stood tall. “Don’t touch me like that again, Alex.” The threat was clear.
Inwardly, he was amused. Feisty bitch, he’d touch her in any way he’d like and she’d soon learn that. But not yet.
“I think I’m done with caves. Take me back, Alex.” She grabbed the torch and strode past him, heading back to the skiff.
Oh, yes. He liked a challenge and bringing this American to heel would be his pleasure.
Chapter Thirty
Hot water sluiced over Laurel’s head and enveloped her body. She stood inside the granite and glass shower with her head bowed and arms wrapped tight around herself—letting the heated water and thin mist sink into her bones. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel warm again. This afternoon had scared her, quite like nothing had before. She wasn’t use to feeling powerless.
For the first time Laurel began to take the warnings about Alex seriously. He’d lied again about his work when she tried to get him to slip up about having assistants. When he kissed her, she had felt nothing. The passion she had for Alex was gone. It was hard to be attracted to a possible killer. And later…his reactions had been scary. He hadn’t harmed her, not really, but she could still feel the iron grip of his hand around her neck. There had been this quiet, intense menace about him. She didn’t buy for a minute he had been concerned that Grant had frightened her.
Alex had kept something tightly reined, and that was what had freaked her out. Worry of what he was withholding, what he was truly capable of. Trapped by him in the cave, she had no trouble imagining him murdering his assistants. It had been way too easy to visualize. She wondered if there had been more than just three bodies in his past.
She shivered and fought back tears from the aftermath the adrenaline rush had left behind. Dinner had been a disaster with Alex next to her. Beth, thinking she was doing her friend a favor with the seating arrangements, just made her want to scream and rip off Alex’s façade and expose him as the mongrel he was. She’d quickly excused herself claiming a headache. She felt guilty lying to Beth, but in truth, by the time she reached her room there was a pounding behind her eyes threatening to turn into a migraine. She hated the fact she was shaking. Laurel climbed into the shower hoping to gain control of her cart wheeling emotions. She was a strong, independent woman and could take care of herself, but today, inside the cave, she wondered if that was true.
Was Alex a murderer? Maybe she was letting her imagination run away with itself. She just didn’t know, but she did know she never wanted to be as scared as that ever again.
Laurel wasn’t sure what made her look up, but startled, she glanced up and saw Simon. He stood a few feet away from the shower, frowning at her, dressed in his usual jeans, T-shirt and bare feet. She didn’t think, only reacted. A sob caught in her throat as she opened her arms out to him. He didn’t hesitate.
Within a long stride, he reached the shower, opened the door, and stepped into her embrace—completely uncaring he was still clothed. His arms wrapped about her as she clung to him and buried her face against his chest. He held her tight without saying a word. Hot water doused them as the warm mist swirled in the cubicle. This was real. The only thing that mattered.
Simon reached his hand up and stroked her hair. “What is it, mo leannan? Tell me what’s wrong?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She couldn’t tell him. He had enough tortures and didn’t need to hear her fears, possibly imagined suspicions. And God only knew what he might do if he thought Alex had actually harmed her. She just wanted Simon, only him. Laurel realized just how true it was. There wasn’t a choice at all. The connection she felt that day on the plateau, being in his arms when they had waltzed, and their kiss, had only grown stronger. She felt safe with him. He was deep within her blood. It must be some Highland magic, because she couldn’t explain it. Didn’t care.
She released her hold on him and grabbed his T-shirt, tugging it from his jeans. She pulled it upward, but stopped when his hands closed about hers.
“No, lass. Tell me what happened?”
She shook her head and met his silver gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”
She tugged on the shirt again and he relented, letting her pull it over his head as he raised arms. She flung it away. It smacked the glass wall and slid down to splat onto the stone tiling. It barely registered. Her attention was riveted on the man before her. Pressing her palms against his broad chest, she fingered through the slight dusting of dark hair then followed the trail downward as it disappeared underneath his low-slung pants.
Grabbing the button of his jeans, she was stopped once again. His large hands closed around her fingers, but not before she slipped the button free.
“Lass. Laurel,” his voice was low and rough.
“No,” she glanced briefly up. “I need you.”
His hands loosened and she yanked his zipper down, slipping her hands inside and finding only him. Dear Lord. He hadn’t been hard when she started, but grew so beneath her hands. She let out a satisfied sigh and tightened her grip. She was rewarded by a choked moan. Naked. She needed him naked.
Laurel reluctantly released him and started pulling his jeans down. It wasn’t easy with the wet denim, but he took pity and helped. In short order the jeans were off and kicked to the side. Laurel got her first good look at him. His proportions remained true. He was large. All over.
“Simon,” her voice came out husky and she reached for him, plowing her fingers deep into his long black hair and pulling his face down to hers. Their mouths collided in a slow gentle touch, and she sucked his tongue into her mouth as she pressed herself against the full, hard length of him.
He growled his approval, and his hands went to her hips, pulling her closer still. Their kiss was unending, and she grew light headed. She moved against him, wanting, needing to be closer. His response was to walk her backwards until she felt the uneven granite tiles of the shower’s wall. The stone was rough against her skin, but she was heedless of the discomfort as warmth, hotter than the water pouring over Simon and onto her, filled her.
“Simon,” she groaned into his mouth.
His hands left her hips and traveled upward to cup her already swollen, sensitive breasts. She arched into his hands, pressing her hardened nipples into his calloused palms. He broke the kiss only to start trailing
his mouth downward, kissing her chin, sucking on her rapidly pounding pulse, licking the hollow of her shoulder.
“Laurel, mo leannan,” he rasped out before his mouth closed on its prize.
She moaned and her hands flew to his head, holding him tight to her. Desired flooded her. Stroking down his back, her fingers trailed across his hips, and she reached between them. Her hands were filled with the thick hardness of him. She caressed and explored, feeling him, getting to know him.
His head jerked up with a sharp inhalation as below he jumped in her hand. She smiled just before he claimed her mouth, plunging boldly in, taking possession.
His hand moved purposefully downward, stroking her thigh then grasping her knee. He lifted her leg, placing her foot on the bench beside them, spreading her wide. His hand left her knee, brushed the inside of her thigh, then cupped her. Her head fell back against the wall as she gasped and rose to her toes on her standing leg. Oh, her nerves were on fire. Her breath came in short pants as he stroked her swollen folds, then a shout was ripped from her as he plunged two fingers inside.
She rode his hand, feeling herself close to flying apart, but it wasn’t enough. She craved him. She didn’t want him disappearing again before she felt him fill her. When Simon started to lower himself she stopped him by the easiest means in reach. She held his erection tight in her hand as she massaged him. His gaze flew to hers as his hand slid from her body.
“No more, Simon. Now. I need you now.”
“I dinna want to hurt you,” he replied, his voice heavily accented as his hips began to move in rhythm to her hands.
“You won’t. I’m not fragile.”
Laurel rose up on her toes and moved her hips forward until he was at her heated entrance. That was all that it took and Simon’s control snapped. In a single swift motion, one hand grabbed her wrists, raising them above her head and pinning them to the wall while the other gripped her hip, and with a single powerful thrust ploughed inside her. He rooted himself deep, completely filling her. Wide, thick, and hot, there was no more room. Stretched tight, her inner muscles clenched at the intrusion, setting off a chain reaction when they found no give. She shouted as her climax caught her.