She could walk back to the B&B, but wasn’t Hans supposed to have picked up her stuff and settled her account? And her clutch. She’d dropped it in the hall, so she had no money to pay for another room. Staring glumly out at the rain-soaked forest before her, she vowed never to surrender to a rich man’s whims again. They had no concept of money, no understanding of survival. He’d taken away her ability to care for herself, and she despised him in that moment. She didn’t hate him, would never be able to hate him, but she was angry enough to wring his neck for doing this to her.
The gates were ahead of her, a mile off, black lacy specters silhouetted by moonlight as they rose from the thick mist. She’d probably have to climb over. What a pleasant thought. Sophie grimaced as she glanced down at the thin boxers. It was too bad the house seemed servant-less, otherwise she could have knocked on the door and gotten someone else to let her back in, at least until morning. If only she had her cell, she could call Hayden to come pick her up and she could bunk down with her for the night.
Sophie hugged her arms around her waist, keeping herself as warm as possible, and left the miniscule comfort of the overhang by the door. Rain clung to her hair, her lashes, sinking deep into her clothes. A shudder wracked her body and she chastised herself for getting into this mess. It was October. The air was far too cold during a thunderstorm for boxers and a t-shirt. She took her time descending the marble steps. Tension made her limbs ache as she navigated the slick marble.
When she finally got to the bottom she crossed the lawn and headed toward the distant gates. Her nose started to run and she coughed once, twice, trying to clear her throat. What a night. She’d never experienced such an amazing high as being in Emery’s arms, nor the low of being shouted at and kicked out like an unwanted stray cat. It certainly ranked as one of the top worst and best nights of her life and she’d had plenty of bad nights.
Snap!
Sophie spun at the sudden crack of something breaking in the woods off to the right. She squinted through the rain, seeing only flickering shadows from the trees swaying in the wind. For an instant she could have sworn she’d seen a person.
Chapter 6
AFTER BEING KNOCKED UNCONSCIOUS, FRANCESCA ESPINA, THE NANNY, CAME AROUND ONLY TO FIND BOTH CHILDREN GONE. SHE FLED TO THE OUTSIDE, WHERE THE LOCKWOODS WERE HOSTING THE PARTY, SHOUTING FOR HELP AND TO CALL THE POLICE.
—New York Times, June 10, 1990
Emery reached the top of the stairs before he had to sit down. His chest expanded and flattened with each hasty inhalation. He’d done it again: flashed back to that awful moment when Fenn had demanded that Emery leave him behind and escape.
He dropped his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he saw stars. “I should have stayed.” His whispered confession echoed off the marble floors. He should have died alongside his brother; at least then they’d be together.
Emery remained at the top of the stairs for several long minutes.
Something was wrong. Something was missing.
“Mr. Lockwood?” A voice intruded on his dark thoughts.
A young man stood at the foot of the stairs, running his hand through surfer blond hair, pushing it out of his pale blue eyes. Cody Larson. Ever casual in a t-shirt and jeans, Cody looked at him in concern. His lips were pursed, brows drawn together.
“Yes, Cody?”
“You know that woman you brought home? I saw her wandering down toward the gates on my monitors. I wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be out there. Given the weather, and the fact that she’s only wearing boxers and a t-shirt, she could get pneumonia or something.”
A horrid buzzing started up in Emery’s ears, like the drone of a thousand bees.
“Sophie!”
He’d blanked out and hadn’t realized she’d gone. Then it all flooded back: his shouts, tossing her out of the house. He’d been near mindless with rage and misery at reliving the worst moment of his life.
The price? He’d shoved Sophie out into the darkness and the rain. Danger was out there. Maybe not in the same creatures he’d feared as a child, but danger was behind every tree, beneath every rock. He had to get her back inside, keep her warm and safe.
He ran down the stairs and called to Cody. “Call Hans, tell him to return with Sophie’s luggage immediately. If I haven’t returned with her by the time he gets back, send him out to find us.”
“You might need some pants. I grabbed these from your room before coming down here.” Cody held out a pair of blue jeans. “I saw on the cameras when you left your room you didn’t have anything on. I figured you might need them to go after her.”
“Fuck,” Emery snapped, and jerked the pants on before running to the door.
He left Cody and flung open the door, darting out into the rain. He cursed as he slid on the rain-slicked marble patio.
The wide green lawn leading to the gates was nearly black by night. The lowering skies were dark and heavy with rain clouds. Blood pounded in Emery’s ears as he ran. Flashes of memory blasted him like lightning strikes, but he shielded himself with the image of Sophie. She could be hurt, or have become ill from the weather and the chill. A thousand worries and fears sliced him again and again as he sprinted toward the gates.
Where was she?
“Sophie! Where are you?” His eyes sank into the darkness, seeking any sign of her. Sophie!” he bellowed.
Something near the gates moved. A trembling ball shifted, revealing bare arms and legs.
“Emery?” The sound of her voice, the frightened trill, knifed his heart. “The gates were locked…I couldn’t leave. I’m sorry.”
“Sophie. Oh thank God.”
He fought off a wave of self-revulsion when she shied away from him. She looked like a half-drowned kitten, shaky and wet. Emery knelt and wrapped his arms behind her back and under her knees. She wasn’t light, but she wasn’t heavy either. A perfect weight. He hugged her close to his chest, dropping his chin over her head to keep her face tucked into the groove of his neck. Once she was secure in his arms, he started the long walk back to the mansion. He fought off the panic of being outdoors without Hans beside him.
“You came for me.” Sophie’s breath warmed his skin. Her hands curled into fists, clenching and unclenching. He quickened his steps, anxious to get her inside.
“Of course.” His reply was gruff. He wasn’t one for eloquent speeches. He didn’t wish to remind her it was his fault she was out there. Guilt stirred restlessly in him, slithering beneath his skin like a poisonous snake. He didn’t want to feel responsible for her, but he’d let her come and had agreed to be a dominant in some fashion toward her. She was his responsibility whether he wished to accept it or not.
Of course I’d come for you. No matter where, or how far. You’re mine. The thought was oddly right, the need to connect with someone whose way of life, way of thinking was so opposite his own. He was a recluse with secrets wanting to bed a determined reporter…dangerous, yet inevitable. Emery was forced to acknowledge that he and Sophie were an inevitable disaster.
* * *
Antonio D’Angelo stood just inside the gates of Lockwood Estate, his lean muscular frame hidden by a massive oak. His eyes locked on the sight of Emery carrying the woman.
Almost had him. Antonio had been ready to finish what he’d started twenty-five years ago. He’d kill Emery and have everything he’d ever wanted. But it was a hard thing to get inside the gates, let alone into Emery’s house. The man kept an almost religiously perfect schedule of alarms, passwords, and codes. No servants stayed in the house overnight and those that came during the day couldn’t be bought off easily.
The wireless bug he’d planted in the office of Emery’s resident hacker provided Antonio with a constant stream of information. He knew each new passcode the second Emery did. Tonight would have been perfect; the thunder would have covered the sound of his gunshots. But the girl had ruined it. The plan had been flawless: he’d managed to bribe a maid to reinstall the wor
king pieces of the clock to make sure it chimed. Emery would have had a breakdown and Antonio would have gotten to him while the bodyguard was out. If it hadn’t been for the woman…There couldn’t be witnesses. He would have to take care of her, too. She’d been dead the moment she’d gone home with Emery. Antonio would not let her live once he’d handled his true target.
A sly smile stretched his lips. He could kill Emery and the girl together and make it look like a lovers’ quarrel.
But he would not kill them tonight. His clothes were soaked clear through, and he had important matters to see to tomorrow. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. When Antonio heard the click on the line, he knew his master was listening.
“I missed tonight. A girl got in the way.”
There was silence save for the faint sounds of someone breathing.
“But I have an idea,” Antonio added hastily.
Finally the other voice spoke. It was rich and cultured. “Good. I like ideas. See that it’s done.” With that the line disconnected.
He pocketed the phone, entered the new code for the front gate and slipped out, cloaked in storms and shadows.
* * *
Emery was never so happy to see Hans and Cody as when they were waiting by the door to help him. Hans took Sophie from him so Emery could catch his breath after the mile-long walk. Cody held out a fleece blanket and helped Hans wrap it around Sophie’s shaking shoulders.
“Where was she?” Hans asked in a low voice.
“By the gate.” Emery waved a hand, indicating the other men should go upstairs. “I’ll put her in my room on the bed. Hans, run her a bath. Cody, fix some hot tea. Put honey in it.”
Hans climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor ahead of Emery. When they reached Emery’s room, Hans laid Sophie down on the massive bed. Her wet pajamas bled rainwater onto the comforter, but Emery didn’t care. She curled up in a ball beneath the fleece blanket still wrapped around her. Emery paused in the doorway of the bathroom to look back at her. She faced him, eyes half-closed, and nuzzled the comforter like an exhausted kitten. Hans patted her on the back and nodded at Emery.
“I’ll do a perimeter check and head in for the night. Call if you need me.”
“Thank you, Hans.”
Once Emery was alone with Sophie, he left the bedroom and entered the bathroom. A massive porcelain tub was embedded into the wall. He plugged the drain and turned the polished taps, lingering a moment to test the temperature before he poured in several tablespoons of bubble bath. He’d never had occasion to use it but was thankful he had some on hand. Sophie would want to hide her body beneath the bubbles and he’d let her. For now.
When he returned to his bedroom Sophie’s eyes were closed, her hands curled into loose fists tucked close to her chin. He pulled the blanket back from her face and she shivered and opened her eyes.
“Well, aren’t you a wet dream.” He couldn’t resist teasing.
“Ha, ha,” she muttered.
“Come on, I’ve drawn a hot bath for you.” He helped her stand and walked with her to the door.
“Undress and get in. I’ll be back in a moment.” He’d let her undress alone, but he’d keep her company while she bathed. It was time for her to learn that as part of their bargain she had to give herself up to him, even if he just required her companionship.
While he waited to hear sounds of splashing water, he retrieved one of his other t-shirts. She could wear this tonight; no boxers. He wasn’t entirely a gentleman; she made him want to be bad, so bad. He smiled. She’d fall asleep getting used to him, his scent, his clothes. He wouldn’t have her body tonight, but clothing her soothed some of that possessive need. She was driving him wild with it. Every breath, every look, every little sigh she made even when he didn’t touch her, was a devastation to his control. He could practically feel it fraying. He wanted her on her stomach beneath him, creamy skinned bottom in the air, legs spread for him to take her from behind…
Christ…He’d never get rid of this perpetual hard-on if he kept letting his imagination get the better of him.
The faint sounds of water lapping against porcelain and her soft little moan of pure relief told him she’d gotten in the tub. Emery laid the shirt on the bed and strolled back into his bathroom. Sophie lay chin deep in bubbles, cheek resting against the porcelain tub’s edge, her long dark brown lashes fanned out over her cheeks. Not moving.
“Sophie!” She didn’t stir. He put his hand to her throat, his fingers seeking a pulse. It was strong. She sighed and leaned into his touch, asleep. No doubt she was worn out. She’d fallen asleep fully naked with him in the next room. As much as she acted like she didn’t fully trust him, on some subconscious level she must. A warmth blossomed in the center of his chest, the feeling oddly fuzzy, like fleece wrapped around his heart and lungs. What a strange sensation. One he hadn’t felt in years.
* * *
Bliss. Sweet, wondrous bliss. Sophie purred as strong hands caressed her arms and shoulders. Those same hands moved up and down her legs, rubbing something soft and silky against her skin.
What a lovely dream! Unable to resist, she curled her toes and shifted her legs toward where it felt like the hands were coming from. The touch felt so good. Touching had never been good before, but it was heavenly now. The few men she’d dated before had never treated her with such sensual tenderness. She could spend the next century letting these hands strum her senses to life and lull her into dreams at the same time.
I’ve been missing this. This is what my friends must feel when their men hold them close. I would kill to have this, keep this feeling forever.
She rubbed her cheek against a hot, slowly moving surface. It smelled so good, like rich spices and musk. Sophie pressed her lips to the surface and flicked her tongue out, tasting delicious skin.
“Greedy little kitten,” a rough voice rumbled—so hot, so dark it made her thighs clench together.
Greedy? He had no idea.
She froze. Her sense of self returned enough to realize she’d been kissing Emery’s chest. She opened her eyes and tensed as she realized she was lying on a bed, wearing just a t-shirt, and Emery was beside her, hands stroking her body over the cotton fabric.
“What?” It was the only word she could get out. When she struggled to pull back, to put precious distance between them, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“No, no, Sophie,” he said firmly as though she were a child. “I want you close, to feel you’re safe and well.” He cupped her chin and raised her face. “Can you forgive me for…throwing you out? I wasn’t myself.”
For a long moment she couldn’t speak. He’d had some sort of reaction, an emotional one that had made him unable to recognize her, and he’d cast her out of his house into the dark during a storm. He hadn’t threatened her, not really; but there was an undeniable level of danger associated with his presence that she hadn’t known she’d have to face. Was finding the answers she looked for worth the risk? There was only one answer.
“Yes, I forgive you.”
The darkness formed an ever present shadow to the pain lingering behind the warmth of his eyes. She knew it so well. It was there in the mirror every day when she woke and faced the day. If she could forgive him, why couldn’t she forgive herself? If only she’d been quicker to scream for help when the man had grabbed Rachel on the playground. If only she’d been able to memorize the numbers on the license plate of the truck. If only…
Emery paused, his lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but he seemed to struggle to find the words to express himself. “Sophie…I…” He shut his eyes tight and then opened them.
She was lost in the hazel-honey world she found there.
“What?” she pressed.
“I want so badly to make you mine, but I don’t trust myself not to have another lapse. They happen sometimes. Usually they fade out and I’m okay. Normally I’m alone, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. With you here, I’
m terrified I’m going to hurt you.”
“But you’ve been with other women…” She let the words fall between them.
“Yes. But I’ve never brought them home. I’ve kept my activities confined to the club. I never seem to lose myself there. But here…”
“Shh.” Sophie placed a finger on his lips, warmed to the very core of her being by his worry. “You didn’t hurt me, and I’ll know to leave you be next time. So don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. I didn’t exactly help you. I sort of slapped you. ”
“That explains why my face hurts,” he laughed softly, but the tone was more melancholy than merry.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get you to snap out of it. I want to help you,” she pleaded.
One side of his mouth kicked up into a charming crooked smile. “Okay. You’ve persuaded me. Should I reward you for your bravery?”
Sophie arched a brow. “What type of reward?”
“Hmm, hot tea for my little hellion, perhaps?” The second the words left his lips, a young man walked through the door with a tray laden with a teapot and cups. Sophie studied the man, who appeared to be around her age.
“Let me guess. You’re the infamous Cody?”
The man grinned. “I’m infamous? Well, the boss man must be improving his opinion of me. Nice to meet you, Sophie.”
His casual demeanor, the rough and tumbled sandy blond hair—all of it put her at ease. He reminded her of the men back home—not rich or privileged, and not nearly as intimidating as Emery. While he was cute, he wasn’t explode-your-body–from-the-inside-out sexy. Emery had that in spades.
Cody placed the tea tray on the large nightstand by the bed. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, boss.”
“Thanks, Cody.”
The man winked at Sophie, bold but friendly, which earned a heavy frown from Emery and a growled “ahem.”
“He’s going to be in his office all night?” Sophie cringed at how dreadful that sounded. She hated her little office back in her tiny apartment in Kansas. She rarely spent time in it, preferring instead to chase her stories across the United States, living from hotel to hotel with her editor on speed-dial.
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