A Touch of Persuasion

by Janice Maynard

  Though her body ached, her breasts felt heavy and full as she washed them. Imagining Kieran’s hands on her sensitive flesh brought a different kind of healing. And she trembled anew with fear for the future. Not for lack of housing. That was minor in the grand scheme of things.

  Saying goodbye to Kieran when she went home to start over would make today’s events mere shadows of pain. How would she live without him in her life? She had been doing it for six long years. Cammie had filled her days with joy and purpose.

  But now Olivia wanted more. She wanted and needed the man she’d fallen in love with during an idyllic semester in Oxford, England.

  After drying off and dressing in her favorite silk peignoir of coffee satin and cream lace, she checked on Cammie. Her little girl was sleeping peacefully, but a forbidden thumb was in her mouth, a habit Olivia thought they had defeated a long time ago.

  Was the childish comfort technique a sign that Cammie was more affected by the news of the fire than she had seemed?

  Olivia removed the thumb without waking her and rearranged the covers. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing Cammie’s cheek and inhaling the wonderful combined scents of shampoo and graham crackers from her bedtime snack.

  When she returned to her bedroom via the connecting door, Kieran was already there…and in the process of setting a large silver tray on a low table in front of the settee. His eyes warmed as he turned and saw her. With heated regard he swept his gaze from her bare toes, up her body to her freshly washed hair. She’d shampooed it three times, convinced that the smell of smoke still lingered.

  He held out a hand. “Come. Eat with me.”

  The massive fireplace normally sat empty in the summertime, hidden behind a large arrangement of fresh flowers. Kieran had removed the vase and stacked logs and kindling, which were now burning brightly.

  She cocked her head, her gaze drawn to the warmth of the crackling blaze. “Isn’t this extravagant?”

  He shrugged, looking like a mischievous boy. “I had to crank down the AC ten degrees, but I like the ambience. You deserve extravagance after the day you’ve had.”

  “The food looks amazing.” She joined him on the small sofa, feeling oddly shy considering the activities they’d indulged in the past couple of days. Her stomach rumbled loudly. “I could get used to having a chef on call.”

  Kieran uncovered a silver salver. “Nothing too heavy…roasted chicken, lemon-infused rice and fresh kale from the garden.” He waved at a smaller dish. “And a surprise for dessert if you clean your plate.”

  They ate in companionable silence, both of them starved. With the warmth from the fire and a full tummy, Olivia’s lids grew heavy. At last she sat back, unable to eat another bite. “That was delicious,” she said. “And I’m not just raving because I was so hungry.”

  Kieran poured two cups of fragrant coffee, handing her one. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Leaning forward, he removed the top of the mystery dish and uncovered a bowl of sugared dates. “Now for your treat.” He picked up one piece of fruit and held it to her lips. “Try this.”

  As she opened her mouth automatically, Kieran tucked the sugary sweet between her lips. She bit off a piece and without thinking, licked the crystals that clung to his fingertips. He froze, his eyes heating with arousal and his breathing growing harsh. “Have another.”

  The room was heavy with unspoken desire, hers…his. The fire played a mesmerizing symphony of pop and crackle. Three times he fed her, and three times she sucked his fingertips into her mouth to clean them.

  Kieran cracked first. He stood up and strode to the window, throwing up the sash and letting in a rush of cool night air. “Bloody stupid idea having a fire,” he muttered. He took off his shirt, exposing a chest that made Olivia’s toes curl.

  He was all hard planes and rippling muscle.

  “I like it,” she protested, removing the negligee that topped her barely there gown.

  His eyes grew wide. “I am not going to have sex with you tonight. You don’t need that.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need.”

  She lowered the tiny straps of the satin garment and let it slither over her hips and fall to the carpet. “You haven’t had dessert,” she pointed out.

  The front of his trousers lifted noticeably. His torso gleamed damp in the soft lamplight. Hooded eyes tracked her every movement. “I wanted to comfort you tonight…to hold you in case you had bad dreams.”

  “Perhaps if you entertain me, my dreams won’t be bad at all.”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, frowning. “I think you may still be in shock. You should get a good night’s sleep.”

  Though his mouth spoke prosaic words, his body told a different story. His entire frame was rigid, the cloth of his trousers barely containing his thrusting shaft.

  She walked right up to him, buck naked, her toes curling in the soft, luxurious carpet beneath their feet. Now the tips of her breasts brushed his bare rib cage.

  “Stop.” He inhaled sharply, groaning as she laid her cheek against his shoulder.

  “We’re just getting started,” she murmured. Insinuating one of her thighs between his legs, she rubbed up against him like a cat.

  Kieran was a strong man, but he was only a man. How in the hell could he cosset her when she was hell-bent on seducing him? He gave up the fight, because losing was better than anything he had planned. Cupping her firm butt in his palms, he pulled her closer still. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?”

  She went up on tiptoe to kiss his chin. “All the time.”

  “The door?”

  “I locked it. We’ll hear her if she stirs…but she won’t.”

  “I’ll leave before morning.” He wouldn’t confuse Cammie, not with so much at stake.

  “That’s a whole seven hours from now,” Olivia said, her nimble fingers attacking his belt buckle. “I can think of a few ways to fill the time.”

  The ornate mantel clock marked off the minutes and hours as Kieran devoted himself to entertaining Olivia. She tried rushing the game, but he was on to her tricks. With one hand, he manacled her wrists over her head, and at the same time trapped her legs with his thigh.

  Her chest heaved, eyes flashing in annoyance. “I want to touch you.”

  The agitation of her breathing made her breasts quiver. The sight of those magnificent heaving bosoms mesmerized him for a split second. He cleared his throat. “Not yet.”

  “When?”

  “After I’ve finished with you.”

  Eyes rounded, she gazed up at him. “That sounds ominous.”

  “I promise you’ll enjoy every second.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut. A tiny sigh of anticipation slipped from her pursed lips and filled him with purpose. Tonight was for Olivia alone.

  Flipping her to her stomach and sitting astride her thighs, he reached for a bottle of lotion on the nightstand and squeezed a generous amount into his hand. Warming the thick liquid between his palms, he gazed down at her. Those narrow shoulders had carried a heavy burden for the past six years, a burden that he should have been sharing.

  The knowledge was a sharp pang in his belly. Deliberately he placed his hands on her upper back and began a deep massage. Olivia moaned and settled more deeply into the mattress, her body boneless and limp.

  In his younger, wilder days, he’d once had the good fortune to spend a three-day vacation with a sexy Indonesian masseuse. She’d taught Kieran a thing or two about the human body and how to relax. Dredging up those pleasant memories, he applied himself to making Olivia feel pampered, hopefully draining away the stresses of their long, emotionally fraught day.

  Touching her was a penance. If his hands shook, surely she didn’t notice. He was tormented by the notion that Olivia and Cammie might have been in the house when it went up in a ball of flame. Nothing he could have done would have saved them if he had been on the other side of the world. Olivia could have died, and Kieran would not have known for wee
ks, months.

  He’d been living without her for a long time. How was it that the possibility of her death, and his daughter’s, as well, turned his stomach to stone?

  He finished at last and brushed her cheek with a fingertip. “Olivia?” Though her muscles were warm and loose, he was strung tightly enough to snap. “Olivia?”

  A gentle snore was his only answer.

  Incredulous, frustrated, but oddly proud that he had lulled her into slumber, he slid down into the bed beside her, condemned to a painful night. Her nude body snuggled into his even in sleep, her bottom coming to rest against his rock-hard erection. He contemplated giving himself relief, but he didn’t want to wake her.

  He closed his eyes. The covers suffocated him. Willing himself to breathe slowly, he used the deep inhale and exhale technique he knew would eventually coax sleep. Arms tight around Olivia, he yawned and pressed his cheek to her back.

  As the moments passed, he gained control and a sense of perspective. Contentment washed over him with the unexpected advent of a gentle summer rain. This house had held nothing for him in the past but pain and duty. He’d never known real happiness here. All he ever wanted to do in the midst of his rare visits was to escape.

  Even spending time with his family had not blunted the hurtful memories that in his mind hung over the massive house as a shroud.

  Gareth had built a home here, as had Jacob. Why were they able to get past the tragedy when Kieran couldn’t? Was he weaker than his brothers? Kieran and Annalise were the youngest of all six of the cousins when they lost their mothers. Did that make a difference? Annalise hadn’t settled down on the mountain, either.

  But unlike Kieran, she was filled with light and a happiness that was almost palpable. Her soul wasn’t scarred by what had happened.

  He allowed himself for one wary second to reach for the memories of his mother. A scent. A fleeting visual. The sound of her gentle laugh. She danced in his memory, hand in hand with her little son, twirling him around in a dizzying circle. Then the image faded. It was all he had…all he would ever have.

  This was the point at which he usually surrendered to the urge to flee, a knee-jerk reaction to pain so strong it brought a toughened man to the brink of despair.

  As he lay there in the darkness, dry-eyed, he realized with stunned certainty that the pain was gone. Obliterated. In the depth of the night, he heard his mother’s whisper. Be happy, Kieran. For me....

  Did she know about Olivia and Cammie? Was she somewhere up there in heaven, grieving because she couldn’t meet her granddaughter?

  He closed his eyes, throat tight with emotion, grateful that no one was around to see his weakness. Had his mother really counseled him to be happy? Was it even possible? Did he have it in him to let go and simply live again?

  Existing from job to job, tent to tent, was the perfect camouflage for a man who was empty inside. He never stopped moving long enough for anyone to realize…to care.

  Olivia murmured his name in her sleep. He stroked her hair, curling a mass of it around his hand and holding it in his fist as if by doing so, this unprecedented feeling of peace might last.

  She felt perfect in his arms.

  But he was an imperfect man.

  Could he change for her? For his daughter?

  Fourteen

  When Olivia awoke, she was alone. The pillow beside hers bore the imprint of Kieran’s head, but the bed was empty. She knew he had to leave her…it made sense. But her heart grieved.

  Outside her window, dawn had barely arrived; the treetops no more than shadowy sentinels, though birdsong filled the early-morning air. She yawned and stretched, wondering how long it would be before Cammie bounded into the room with her usual burst of energy.

  It was too soon to call Lolita and Javier. They were on Pacific Time, still the middle of the night in California.

  Had the police made an arrest? Was her mother’s stalker continuing to lurk in the shadows of their lives?

  Itchy and restless, Olivia climbed out of bed, feeling the aches and pains of an old woman. The benefits of Kieran’s selfless massage evaporated in a rush of uncertainty that tightened her neck muscles. It had been only a short time since the fire, but already, waiting for an end to the drama was unbearable. She longed to go home, but she had nowhere to call her own anymore.

  The truth was ugly and inescapable.

  By the time she finished her shower, Cammie was up and demanding breakfast. To Olivia’s surprise, Victor awaited them in the formal dining room.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said, sitting stiffly in a chair and giving Cammie a visual warning to behave. Cammie needed little urging. She was too busy digging into a plateful of small pancakes shaped like bears and fir trees.

  The old man had an empty plate in front of him, but it bore the evidence of bacon and eggs. He nursed coffee in a china cup that looked far too fragile for his big hands. Like his sons, he was a large man, but his hair had faded away to little tufts of white over his ears, and his florid skin spoke of unhealthy habits.

  His portly figure and piercing eyes were intimidating to say the least.

  Olivia ate without speaking, all the while making sure Cammie was not poised to launch into one of her stream of consciousness chattering sessions.

  The meal was silent and uncomfortable.

  When Olivia had swallowed as many bites as she could manage of an omelet and crisp toast, she shoved her plate aside. “We’ll get out of your hair,” she said, biting her lip when she realized that Cammie was still finishing up.

  Victor Wolff raised one beetling eyebrow. “So soon? I’ve arranged for the sous chef to make cookies with Cammie so you and I can talk, Olivia. Is that okay with you, little one?”

  Cammie looked up, a drizzle of sticky syrup coating one side of her chin. Her mouth was too full for speech, but she nodded enthusiastically.

  Unease slithered down Olivia’s spine. “Where is Kieran?” she asked, needing reinforcements before a confrontation with her host.

  Victor shrugged. “He and Gareth and Jacob took off at first light for Charlottesville, something about buying a new Jeep.”

  “It takes three men to purchase a vehicle?”

  “My boys are close. And they seldom have the opportunity to spend time together as a trio.”

  A pleasant young woman appeared from the direction of the kitchen, introducing herself as LeeAnn. Olivia watched, helpless, as Cammie’s face lit up. She took her new friend’s hand, and the two of them disappeared, leaving Olivia to face Victor alone.

  He stood up. “We’ll go to my study,” he said, allowing Olivia no opportunity to refuse.

  Trailing in his wake, she pondered his intent. There was little time to formulate a plan of rebuttal for whatever was about to transpire. Victor’s private sanctum was on the main floor, as was the kitchen.

  The room was like something out of a movie. Heavy hunter-green drapes flanked mullioned windows that sparkled as if they were cleaned every night by an army of elves…and perhaps they were. The thick folds of velvet picked up and accentuated the intricate design in an antique Persian rug that covered a large expanse of the hardwood floor.

  Victor motioned to a wing chair opposite his dark mahogany desk. “Have a seat.”

  Feeling a bit too much like a wayward schoolchild, Olivia sat, hands in lap, and waited. She wasn’t intentionally silent, but in truth, she could not think of a single subject, other than the weather, with which to counter Victor’s liegelike summons.

  He frowned at her. “When are you going to tell me I have a grandchild?”

  Nothing like a direct attack to catch the unwary off guard. Olivia bit her lip, stalling for time. “Is that why you asked me to come in here? Did you wait for your son to leave so you could ambush me?”

  Guilt landed briefly on his heavy features before disappearing. “You’re impertinent.”

  “I mean no disrespect, but I won’t be bullied.”

  They tiptoed around the subject
that couldn’t be broached. Not yet. Not without Kieran’s participation.

  Victor harrumphed and sat back in his chair, swiveling from side to side just enough to make Olivia dizzy. Despite his bluster, or maybe because of it, she suddenly saw that he was afraid. Of what? she wondered.

  After tapping an empty pipe on the blotter, he put it to his lips and took a lengthy draw, perhaps using the scent of tobacco long past to satisfy an urge. “Ask him to stay,” he commanded. “Ask Kieran to stay. He’ll do it for you. I know he will. He’s never before brought a woman to Wolff Mountain. You’re special to him.”

  Her heart sank. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Mr. Wolff, but you’re wrong.”

  “Call me Victor. And I’m seldom wrong. What makes you so sure that I am now?”

  Time to bury her pride. Taking a deep, painful breath, she gave him the unvarnished truth. “He offered to marry me in order to give Cammie security. A family on paper. But he wasn’t offering to stay. That wasn’t part of the package. He’s leaving for the Sudan in September. Nothing has changed.”

  Before her eyes, the old man aged a decade, his brown-spotted hands trembling before he gripped the arms of the chair to steady them. “Damn it. This is his home. He needs to settle down....”

  His words trailed off in impotence. He wasn’t the first parent to rue a son’s choices, and he wouldn’t be the last.

  Olivia sighed. “I’ve never had any illusions about Kieran. He’s a wonderful man, but more than anyone I’ve ever known, he needs to wander. It’s a lifestyle well suited to a single man.”

  “And if he has a family?”

  “If he has a family, it wasn’t by choice.” Her words were blunt. Said as much to remind herself of the truth as they were to make the truth clear to a desperate father. “He’ll continue to come back from time to time if you don’t harass him. That’s probably the most you can hope for.”