Devil's Gambit

by Lisa Jackson

  “Because of King’s Ransom’s age and coloring, it was relatively easy to discover what horse was being used in place of him to cover his mares. I did some research, and once I saw the pictures of Devil’s Gambit again, I knew that he was the sire responsible for the faster offspring in the past few years.”

  “This is all still conjecture, you know,” she said, trying to find any way possible to refute what he was saying. Even as she did so, she knew that she was grasping at straws.

  “You’re right. Except for one fact.”

  Tiffany steeled herself. “Which is?”

  “That six years ago the ownership of the breeding farm where King’s Ransom is standing at stud changed hands. A corporation now owns the farm. It took a lot of digging, but I finally found out that the primary stockholder in Emerald Enterprises is none other than your brother-in-law.”

  “Dustin?” Tiffany gasped, hoping with all her heart that Zane would come up with another name, any other name.

  “One and the same.”

  Tiffany felt weak but outraged. Her knees buckled and she leaned against the desk for support. Even if everything Zane told her was the truth, she had to settle it herself with Dustin and Ellery...if Ellery was alive. If she could. Two very big “ifs.” For a moment her voice failed her. When at last she could speak, all she could manage was a hoarse whisper. “I think, Mr. Sheridan,” she suggested, “that you’d better leave.”

  “Are you so afraid of the truth?”

  Tiffany closed her eyes, and her finely arched brows drew together. Yes, Zane, she thought, I am afraid. I’m afraid that what you’re telling me is reality. I’m afraid the man I trusted as a brother-in-law lied to me, I’m afraid that my husband has betrayed me and I’m afraid, so afraid of you—and what you do to me!

  She reached for her wineglass with shaking fingers. Her voice was husky. “You seem to have done your homework,” she admitted. “But just because Dustin owns part of the farm in Ireland—”

  “Did you know about it?” he demanded.

  She managed to shake her head, and the golden light from the fire caught in the soft brown silk of her hair. Zane fought against the sudden tightness in his chest.

  “Don’t you think that’s odd—since you’re still business partners here in the States?”

  Odd as hell, she thought to herself as she pushed the hair from her face and stared at the ceiling. Her brother-in-law had been the one solid thing in her life when her world had shattered in pain and desperation on the night that Ellery and Devil’s Gambit were killed. Becoming a widow had been a new and frightening experience, and the scandal about Ellery and his tragic horse had only made facing widowhood worse. Reporters hadn’t left her alone for over two weeks. If it hadn’t been for Dustin and his strength... “I don’t know everything about Dustin’s business. He’s just my brother-in-law, not my...”

  “Husband?”

  Her throat was parched, and the words forming in her mind were difficult to say. “Have you...did you...see any evidence to indicate that Ellery might still be alive?” she asked, her fingers tightening over the edge of the desk fiercely enough that her knuckles showed white.

  “No.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “But you can’t be sure?” she insisted in a breathless whisper.

  Zane frowned darkly. “Oh, lady, I wish I could answer that one for you,” he said fervently.

  She felt the sting of tears and forced them back. “If Ellery was alive, he wouldn’t have let me believe that he was dead,” she said as much to convince herself as Zane. Her small hands balled into fists, and she pounded them against the varnished surface of the desk she had used for four years...Ellery’s desk. “You know that you’re destroying everything I’ve worked for, don’t you? In two days, everything I’ve believed in is slowly being torn apart...and I don’t understand why.”

  “Don’t you want to know if your husband is alive?”

  “Yes!”

  “And if he is?”

  “Oh, God.” She clasped her hand over her mouth before she managed to steady herself. “I...I don’t know.”

  “Would you divorce him?”

  She shook her head and pressed back the tears threatening her eyes. “No. Not until I heard his side of the story.”

  “And when you did?” Zane asked, his features becoming harsh.

  Tiffany let out a ragged breath. “I don’t know. It’s all so unbelievable—I don’t have all the answers.”

  Zane’s eyes bored into her as if searching for her soul. Damn Ellery Rhodes and what he had done to his beautiful wife! Despite the desire for revenge seeping through his blood, Zane knew as he watched Tiffany battle against tears that he could never hurt her. It would be easy to make love to Rhodes’s wife, but Zane knew instinctively that she would never forgive him if he took advantage of her vulnerable state and she later found out that her husband was alive.

  She managed to slowly get hold of herself. “Why does all this matter to you, and why on earth would you want to buy this farm?” she questioned, her voice a whisper. “You have your choice of every breeding farm on the market—so why this one?”

  “I’m not interested in just any farm. I already have one in Ireland.”

  “And that’s what you do—breed horses, when you’re not bothering widows?”

  His lips thinned in disgust. Against his better judgment, Zane crossed the room and stood near the desk, near the attractive woman leaning against the polished surface. Her head was thrown back, her white throat exposed, her silken hair falling in a reckless tumble of honey-brown that touched the desk.

  “Have I bothered you so much?”

  “More than you’ll ever guess,” she admitted, straightening. She rubbed her arms, hoping to warm the inner chill of dread settling between her shoulders. After glancing up at the portrait of Devil’s Gambit, she turned cold, suspicious eyes on Zane.

  “You really believe everything you’ve told me, don’t you?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “And is that why you want the farm? Do you want to buy me out, and then blow this whole thing wide open about Devil’s Gambit? That way there would be an investigation and you would have a chance, as owner of Rhodes Breeding Farm, of recovering him?”

  “I don’t think it would work that way,” Zane said stiffly. “You would still own the horse. That’s not the reason I want this farm.”

  “Then what is, Zane? Why did you come here in the first place?” He was much too close, but she didn’t give in an inch. Proudly she faced him, her soft lips pressed into a frown, her skin stretched tightly over the gentle curve of her cheek.

  Zane’s dark eyes drove into her very soul. “Ellery Rhodes stole from me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Deciding to distance himself from her, Zane walked over to the bar and splashed another drink into his glass. How much could he confide to Ellery Rhodes’s widow without blowing everything? “It’s not a subject I like to discuss,” Zane admitted after taking a long swallow of the warm Scotch. “But about six years ago Ellery won a large amount of cash from me.”

  “And you hate him for that?” Tiffany was incredulous. What kind of a man was Zane?

  “Not until I found out that the game was rigged. Oh, by the way, your brother-in-law, Dustin, was in on it, too.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Believe it. Your husband was little more than a thief.”

  Tiffany was numb from the tattered state of her emotions. “And you’ve waited all this time, just to get even with him,” she guessed, her voice without inflection. “It didn’t matter that he was dead—you just had to do something, anything to get even.”

  Zane saw the disbelief and silent accusations in Tiffany’s eyes. He wanted to purge himself, tell all of the story, but couldn’t. Stasia’s betrayal had been long ago, but it was still an open wound that continued to bleed. He’d accused himself of still loving his ex-wife, even after she’d run off wit
h Ellery Rhodes. But Zane knew better. He doubted if he had ever loved Stasia, but his battered pride was still raw from her deceit.

  “I want this farm,” he said as thoughts about Stasia gave him renewed conviction. The look on his face was intense, slightly threatening.

  “I’m sorry, Zane. I told you yesterday that if I ever decided to sell, the first option would be Dustin’s.”

  “Even when you know that he deliberately lied to you?”

  “If he did, you mean. I can’t believe—”

  Zane cut her off by slicing the air with his hand. He strode over to the desk, reached inside his briefcase and handed her a thick packet of legal documents.

  “What are these?” she asked, slowly scanning the complicated pages.

  “Corporate documents, ownership papers.”

  “How did you get them?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just read.” He hated to put the damning evidence in front of her, but she’d been so bullheaded about Ellery and Dustin, he’d had no choice. Tiffany didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who would live in a fantasy world, but maybe when a woman loved a man as passionately as Tiffany loved Rhodes... He frowned darkly and finished his drink in one swallow. His inner vision of Tiffany entwined in Ellery Rhodes’s arms turned his thoughts back, and a senseless anger took hold of his mind.

  Tiffany sifted through the documents, and as she did her heart contracted painfully. Dustin’s signature was scrawled all over the legal papers concerning Emerald Enterprises and the purchase of the farm in question. Without a doubt, some of Zane’s story was true. Just how much, she would have to determine on her own, when issues such as the dead foals and her feelings for Zane didn’t clutter her mind. Pursing her lips together she handed the papers back to Zane.

  “They’re yours,” he said.

  “I don’t want them.”

  “I have extra copies, and I think you might want to go over these more carefully while I’m gone.”

  “You’re leaving?” Oh, God, not now. Not when I need your arms to protect me...

  “Have to,” he admitted with obvious reluctance.

  “I see,” she replied, stunned. How long did she expect him to stay? He’d already mentioned that he had business back in San Francisco. It was only a matter of time until they went their separate ways.

  She stared sightlessly down at the documents she still held in her hands. Since Zane had been with her, she had avoided thinking about the time he would leave. This is crazy, let him go, before you do something you’ll regret later....

  His hands molded over her upper arms. The warmth of his touch made her knees weaken, and she had to fight the urge to fall against him for support.

  “While I’m gone, I want you to consider selling the farm to me,” he said sharply, his gentle fingers in stark contrast to his harsh words.

  He was a man of contradictions, ruthless one moment, kind the next; sensitive to her desires as a woman, yet insensitive to her needs as a person. She told herself she couldn’t possibly fall in love with him and yet she knew that fate had already cast the die. She was falling desperately and hopelessly in love with the stranger from Ireland.

  “It’s just not that easy, Zane. Dustin still owns twenty-five percent—I can’t make a decision without him.”

  “Then consider selling out your portion. I’ll deal with Dustin later.” The tone of his voice was harsh, his jaw hard.

  “It’s just not possible.”

  “Anything’s possible, Tiffany. Don’t you know that?”

  As possible as falling in love with you? Dear Lord, what has happened to my common sense?

  As if reading her unspoken question, Zane smiled gently. The tense line of his jaw relaxed as slumberous eyes embraced hers. One long finger traced the elegant curve of her neck. “I’ll be back in a few days,” he promised.

  Her lips trembled beguilingly. “There’s no need. You know my position on selling the farm—”

  “And what about Devil’s Gambit?”

  She frowned and pushed an errant lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “I...I don’t know,” she admitted, eyeing the portrait of the proud stallion. She needed time alone, time to think and sort out everything Zane had stated. How much of his story was fact and how much was pure fiction?

  “You’ll need a contact in Ireland.”

  The thought that Zane might be leaving the country shocked her. For this short time she’d had with him, she felt as if they’d grown incredibly close.

  “I’ll have to think about that—”

  “Tiffany?”

  “Yes?” She looked up and found him staring at her. For most of the evening he had forced himself to stay away from her physically. But standing next to her with the warmth of the fire against his back, smelling the scent of her perfume, seeing the honest regret in her blue eyes, was too much to bear. The restraint he had placed upon himself began to dissolve into the shadowy room.

  He touched the seductive contour of her jaw, and she closed her eyes. His hands were gentle as they lingered near her throat. “Come with me to San Francisco,” he suggested impulsively as his blood began to heat and he forgot his earlier promise to himself. He wanted Tiffany Rhodes as he’d never wanted a woman.

  “Oh, Zane, I can’t.”

  “Why not?” His fingers had wrapped around her nape, under the curtain of her hair. She had trouble thinking clearly as his hands drew her near to him, and his lips touched her eyelids.

  “I have...too many things to do...too much to think about....”

  “Think about me—”

  “That, I can assure you, I will,” she promised fervently, her words the barest of whispers.

  When his lips touched hers, he tasted more than the flavor of rich Burgundy. His tongue skimmed the soft surface of her mouth, gently prying her lips apart. Tiffany had no desire to stop him. She felt reckless, daring. Her raw emotions had pushed rational thought aside. Though she barely knew him, her body trembled at his touch, thrilled at his gentle caress.

  His fingers slid down her arms to wrap securely over her waist, pulling her willing body to his. He moaned when he felt her hands, which had been gently touching his shoulders, grip the corded muscles more tightly. She was warm, pliable, yielding....

  Silently cursing the doubts in his mind, he crushed her body to his. He felt the heat in her blood, tasted her need when her mouth opened willingly to him, smelled the heady scent of perfume mingling with burning pitch. The ache in his loins began to pound with the need of this woman—Ellery Rhodes’s wife.

  Tiffany let her arms hold him close. She knew he would be leaving soon, and she had to savor each sweet second she had with him. When she felt the weight of his body gently push her to the floor, she didn’t resist. Her hands linked behind his head, and she let herself fall until the soft cushion of the carpet broke her fall and was pressed against her back.

  “I want you,” he whispered, his face taut with desire. “God forgive me, but I want you.”

  Her blue eyes reflected the golden flames of the fire, and her hair was splayed in tangled curls on the deep, green carpet. Passion darkened her gaze and lingered in her eyes. “There’s no need for forgiveness,” she murmured, her fingers stroking the back of his neck, his tensed shoulder muscles.

  Her blood was pulsing violently through her veins, heating the most intimate parts of her. Her heart felt as if it would burst with need, want. It continued to beat an irregular rhythm in her ears, making her oblivious to anything but the desire of this man...this stranger. As she gazed into his silvery eyes, she wondered if what she was feeling was love or lust and found she didn’t care.

  “Tiffany,” he whispered against her hair. He was lying over her, his chest crushing her breasts as if he were afraid she would escape, his long legs entangled with hers. “I didn’t want this to happen.” His ragged breathing was filled with reluctance.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  He kissed the curve of her neck and tingling sensati
ons raced wildly down her body. Dear Lord, she couldn’t think when he was touching her, couldn’t reason.... Before she could try to explain her feelings, his rugged face loomed over hers. He gazed down upon her and passion darkened his eyes. Think of Ellery, she told herself, there is a slim chance that he might be alive. Though he betrayed you, he is still your husband.

  Zane’s lips captured hers, and despite the arguments in her mind she wrapped her arms around his neck and let her fingers wander in his thick, obsidian hair. His touch was electric, and all the nerves in her body screamed to be soothed by him.

  I can’t do this, she thought wildly, when his hands rimmed the boat neck of the sweater and teased the delicate skin near her collarbone. He lowered his head and pressed his moist tongue to the hollow of her throat, extracting a sweet torment that forced her pulse to quiver.

  He kissed her again, more savagely this time, and she responded with a throaty moan. When he lifted his head, he gazed into her eyes, then pulled the sweater over her head, baring her breasts to the intimate room. A primitive groan slid past his lips as he looked down at her. The lacy bra, the sheerest of barriers to him, displayed the ripeness of her breasts and their pink tips. Already the nipples were rigid, thrusting proudly against the silky fabric and offering the comfort to soothe him if he would only suckle from them. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, running first his eyes and then his tongue over the delicious mounds of white and feeling the silken texture of her skin beneath the sheer lace. She trembled with the want of him.

  The wet impression of his tongue left a dewy path from one rose-tipped peak to the next. Tiffany struggled beneath him, arching up from the carpet and pulling him to her with anxious fingers digging into the thick muscles of his shoulders.

  In a swift movement he removed his sweater and tossed it beside Tiffany’s on the floor. She stared at him with love-drugged eyes. His chest was lean and firm; dark skin was covered when she lifted a hand to stroke him, and his nipples grew taut as she stared at him.

  He lowered himself over her and covered her mouth with his. His tongue tasted of her, dipping seductively into her mouth only to withdraw again. The heat within her began to ache for all of him. She wanted him to touch her, fill her, make long, passionate love to her until the first shafts of morning light filtered through the windows.