Finding Forever

by Nika Rhone

  “I think if anyone has a reason to be spiteful, it would be me, since sneaking off to screw your mistress while your future wife is in the house is a pretty slimy move. To be honest, though, I couldn’t care less who your son is sleeping with. But I’m pretty sure her husband will.”

  An expression of pure derision crossed the senator’s face. “I told Constance you were too naïve for your own good. If you think a bout of infidelity is going to cause anyone in our circles to even blink an eye—”

  “Not even the vice-president?”

  It was a toss-up as to which man’s reaction said more about him. While the senator took a step back as though he’d just received a blow to the solar plexus, Daryl stepped closer and aligned his body at her side, giving her his full support, although he did lean down and whisper next to her ear, “Be very careful, Princess.”

  She nodded faintly to show she understood.

  The senator seemed to have recovered a little of his equilibrium. “If you think your lies—”

  “Truths. And while you may have no problem with someone playing fast and loose with their marriage vows, didn’t the vice-president—and correct me if I’m wrong—didn’t he run on a family values platform? I seem to recall his family played a huge part in all his campaign appearances. Katrina and the children always at his side, the perfect little family unit.”

  Gag. It had been all too similar to her own father’s strategy of using his family as props. She’d actually felt sorry for his wife and kids, knowing how hard it was to always have to be “on” and perform for the cameras. Evidently, Katrina had found her own way to cope.

  Mottled red suffused the senator’s face as his shock turned to rage.

  “And didn’t I hear something about the party grooming him to make a run for the nomination when the president’s term is up? What kind of damage do you think would be done to his career if it became known his own wife was having an adulterous affair right under his nose? Or to the careers of anyone even remotely connected to the scandal?” Because while Senator Davenport might not give two figs about the vice-president’s career, he certainly cared about his own.

  “My son wouldn’t be that reckless,” he replied through clenched teeth.

  “He would if she promised to get her husband to back him within the party when primary time rolled around.” It hadn’t been the most loving pillow talk Amelia ever heard, but then, what Charles and Katrina had been doing had nothing to do with love. Amelia could have almost forgiven him for his infidelity if it did. But knowing he was whoring himself out for political favors made her want to vomit.

  There was no refutation this time from the senator. Evidently, he knew his son better than he was willing to admit. Once again, Amelia had to wonder how far the apple had landed from the tree.

  “Do you know how many people you would destroy by going public with this?”

  “More than just the two people who deserve it. Which is why I don’t want to do any such thing. Not unless you try to force my hand by threatening the people I care about.”

  “Who else knows about this?”

  Before she could open her mouth to assure him she hadn’t told anyone until now, Daryl squeezed her shoulder in gentle warning.

  “No one who will say anything without Amelia’s express orders,” Daryl said. “But rest assured there are safeguards in place that should anything happen to her, anything at all, the information will immediately be made public in the most damaging way possible.”

  Amelia’s breath caught as she absorbed the implication of Daryl’s words. That the senator might choose to guarantee her silence by making sure she suffered some type of “accident” in the not-too distant future.

  “Your cooperation for her silence, Senator,” Daryl said. “Do we have a deal?”

  Looking like he’d rather argue than agree, the senator gave a jerky nod.

  “So, the wedding is officially off?” She needed to hear it to believe it.

  “We’ve been telling everyone you’ve been sick and under a doctor’s care all week to excuse your absence. When I get back, I’ll announce that the wedding has been postponed due to ongoing health concerns. After a little time has passed,” he continued, cutting off her protest, “and some of the media scrutiny fades, we’ll make a quiet announcement that you and Charles have decided to reconsider your marriage and parted ways amicably.”

  It wasn’t the immediate conclusion to this mess she’d wanted, but Amelia knew how the game had to be played. In order to save face, and votes, the Davenports would need to ease their way out of the situation with as much finesse as possible. But the longer the faux engagement was left hanging over her head, the more problems she could foresee in her future.

  “One month,” she said.

  “That won’t be nearly enough time for—”

  “One month. If you don’t make the announcement by then, I will.” She met the senator’s furious stare without flinching.

  Realizing she wouldn’t be intimidated into reconsidering her edict, he said, “Fine. But if I ever hear so much as a whisper about Charles and Katrina, our little deal is off.”

  “No, that’s not the deal.” Amelia’s heart started to pound. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything. I can’t control what other people find out about them.”

  “That’s not my problem. If this gets out, all my plans will go up in smoke. Years of planning and maneuvering ruined. So if that happens to me, missy, you better believe that I will destroy every single person you know, starting right here.”

  Panic like she’d never felt before hit. “No, that’s…you can’t…” It was suddenly impossible to catch her breath, not even with Daryl rubbing his hand in soothing circles on her back.

  “Did you get all of that?” Daryl asked, withdrawing his phone from the breast pocket of his shirt with his free hand.

  Amelia turned and stared at him in utter confusion. What in the world?

  From the phone’s speaker, Doyle’s voice replied with a tone that held not one drop of amusement. “Every word, loud and clear.”

  “What the hell is this?” The senator was livid. “Who is that? A reporter?”

  “No, my boss,” Daryl replied. “Who now has a very nice recording of you threatening Amelia and her friends. One of whom he happens to be engaged to, by the way, so I’m thinking he’s not real happy with you at the moment.”

  “That’s…you…” The senator sputtered before finally getting out, “That recording won’t be admissible in court.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t need to be. It just needs to be clear enough for the ten o’clock news.”

  The senator blanched, then flushed.

  “It’s simple, Senator. Stick to the deal, and that recording will never see the light of day. Screw with any of us, and it goes public. Now I suggest you leave. I believe you have a plane waiting?”

  Amelia was still processing this new twist when the senator gave her a look that a week ago would have made her cringe.

  “You were never worth this much trouble.” He straightened his jacket with a jerk and stalked to the car. Vaughn walked back to close the door, caught the keys Daryl tossed him, then went around and slid into the driver’s seat, but not before shooting Amelia a short, two-fingered salute as though to acknowledge who had won the skirmish.

  Watching the car leave a dust trail in its wake as it retreated down the long driveway, Amelia sank against Daryl, her arm going around his waist as much for support as for comfort. “Is it really over?”

  Daryl gave her a squeeze. “I think he’s scared enough to keep his word. For now, anyway.”

  “God.” She buried her face against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of fresh air and horses that permeated the soft cotton of his shirt. How would she have gotten through this without him?

  How would she get through the rest of her life without him?

  She pushed away the maudlin thought. It was too soon to mourn, not while she still had a few precious days
before their strange little idyll was over. If this past week taught her anything, it was to make the most of what you had, while you had it.

  While Daryl spoke first to Doyle on the phone before having a lengthier conversation with his father, Amelia sat on the top step of the porch, her eyes never straying far from his strong profile. Was it really only a little over a week since he’d been forced into the role of her protector? Since she’d been forced to open her eyes and see him as more than just Daryl the bodyguard, but as Daryl the man? How was it possible she’d come to know so much about him, to care so much about him, in such a short period of time?

  Probably the same way she’d come to understand so many things about herself in that same short span. She’d always considered herself weak. Spineless. Not good enough for…well, anything. But now she could see she thought that about herself because that was what she’d been taught to believe. Her parents raised her to see herself as far less than she could actually be. She’d like to think it was simply neglectful parenting on their part, but part of her new self-awareness meant she needed to stop making excuses for them. William and Meredith Westlake were bad parents. Period. She had to accept that and move forward with the knowledge she no longer had to twist herself into painful little knots trying to please them.

  It was a rather freeing realization.

  When Daryl collected her from the porch and led her back into the house, Amelia didn’t question when he headed straight for his bedroom. She didn’t protest when he locked the door. She didn’t put up even a token of resistance when he swooped down and attacked her mouth with his, the kiss furious and possessive, making her blood heat and her body leap awake in response.

  There was something primal in the way he kissed her, the way he held her close, as though afraid she might somehow disappear. She held him the same way. If she could find a way, she’d gladly hold onto him forever. But since she’d already decided to be thankful for what she had, not what she wanted, she threw herself wholeheartedly into the play of lips and teeth and tongues, enjoying the wildness of it.

  Between one breath and the next, they were on the bed. Clothes went flying. Amelia was pretty sure she heard some buttons hit the floor. She didn’t care. All that mattered was getting the barrier of their clothes gone. Now. This instant.

  Finally, they were skin-to-skin, and Daryl stopped. Just…stopped. For the briefest second, Amelia had a horrible sense of déjà vu, remembering the night she’d tried to seduce Charles after their engagement and he’d lost interest in her before the deed had been done. But one look at Daryl’s face burned away any chill that memory raised. His dark eyes were fierce and tender at the same time as they slowly followed the path his hand took from her leg, up over her hip, across her belly and through the valley between her breasts, as though inspecting every inch to make sure she was whole, until finally his long fingers cupped her jaw and he was looking directly into her eyes.

  “You scared the hell out of me.” The words sounded like they’d been dragged from someplace deep and painful. “If you’d gotten in that car with him…”

  “I wouldn’t have.” Not unless her backup plan hadn’t worked. Daryl probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing that, though, so she kept it to herself.

  “If you had…God.” He closed his eyes as though pained by the thought.

  Turning her head, she laid a kiss in his palm. “I didn’t.”

  When he opened his eyes again, there was such potent emotion shining from them Amelia’s breath caught in her chest. This wasn’t lust. It wasn’t fear or affection or anger. It was something she’d never seen directed at her before. Something that touched a place inside of her that shuddered and slowly stretched as it awakened for the very first time. Ever.

  Oh God. She loved him.

  Oh, no. No, no, no. This was not supposed to happen. This was supposed to be about the here and now. She was under no illusions she would get the kind of happily-ever-after Thea had found with Doyle. But she was darn well getting her happy-for-now moment.

  Wetting suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, she asked, “Are we going to keep wasting time talking or are you going to make love to me?”

  All of that heat in his gaze instantly morphed to the possessive lust that left her curling her toes and grabbing the sheets the night before. With a wicked smile, Daryl moved down along her body until his mouth was poised just above the apex of her thighs, which quivered in anticipation. Keeping eye contact, he dipped his tongue into her folds in one long, hot sweep. With a moan, her legs fell open, leaving her vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do to her, whatever heights he was willing to take her. For now, she’d take everything he was willing to give.

  Later, after this was over, she’d deal with the emotional fallout of everything he wasn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A sharp knock at the door snapped Daryl awake. “What?”

  “Mare’s foaling.” Chaz’s voice. “Hank wants you at the barn.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Turning his head on the pillow, he forced the red luminous numbers on the clock into focus. Almost one in the morning. It never failed.

  “Amy said she wanted to know when it happened.” There was a meaningful pause. “You want me to go knock on her door?”

  Daryl looked at the woman blinking sleepily up at him from her pillow. “No, thanks. I’ll take care of it.” He ground his teeth at Chaz’s knowing chuckle as he retreated down the hallway. Fuck. The bastard just didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

  “What’s going on?” Amelia yawned like a little kitten, all warm and cuddly and barely half awake. Not that he could blame her for being tired. He hadn’t let her get all that much sleep the past two nights.

  “Delilah’s finally decided to drop her foal.” He slipped from under the covers and reached for his jeans. “It’s late. Go back to sleep. You can see them in the morning.”

  His suggestion earned him a snort of disbelief. Throwing the covers back, Amelia snapped on the lamp and gathered up her clothes. “Are you kidding? There’s no way in the world I’m missing this.”

  As fond as she’d become of the pregnant mare, Daryl didn’t bother trying to dissuade her. After yanking on his boots, he tossed her one of his old sweatshirts to wear over her tee, adding a flannel shirt over his own. It might be early June, but the overnight temperatures could still drop into the fifties.

  Because it could be a long night, Daryl curbed Amelia’s impatience long enough to set up the coffeepot and drag several large, well-used metal thermoses from the cabinet. Practically dancing with anticipation, she grabbed his hand and half-dragged him out the back door, laughingly complaining that he was going to make her miss her one and only chance to see a horse being born. Which was only the truth, but the reminder that her stay on the ranch was almost over was a sobering one.

  It wasn’t until they got to the barn and Chaz gave him a smirking look that Daryl realized he still clasped Amelia’s hand. Shooting him a warning look to keep his comments to himself, Daryl went to where his father leaned against the closed half-door to the mare’s birthing stall. Only then did Amelia pull her hand from his to peer inside.

  “Oh!” She put her hand over her mouth.

  Daryl looked over her shoulder. The mare was lying on the thick bed of straw. Her sides heaved and she let out a strained groan as she struggled to expel the foal to no avail. Daryl placed his hands on Amelia’s shoulders as she cringed against the sound.

  “It’s normal. Horses can get very vocal when they’re giving birth, just like people.”

  “Oh, she looks so uncomfortable,” Amelia whispered. “Is she okay?”

  “Delilah’s a trooper,” Chaz said from her other side. “This is her first foal, so she’s taking a little longer than usual, but the last time the vet checked her, he said everything looked fine.” But the look he gave Daryl said something else entirely.

  Leaving Chaz to distract Amelia with one of his tall stories about a
foal he’d once helped deliver in the middle of a blizzard, Daryl and his father stepped outside.

  “She broke water about fifteen minutes ago,” his father said when they were out of earshot. “She’s been straining, but it doesn’t look like she’s making any progress.”

  That wasn’t good news. The foal usually emerged shortly after the water broke. Anything longer than twenty minutes of laboring could indicate some type of problem, like a caught hoof or a breech birth. Or worse.

  “The vet?”

  “Up in Cactus Flat visiting his grandkids. He’s on his way, but it’ll take him a while to get here.” Maybe too long was what he left unsaid.

  “Damn.”

  “Nothing we haven’t had to handle on our own before.”

  True. But there were always dangers when a birth required outside intervention.

  They went back inside the barn. The vocalizations from the laboring mare were getting louder and shriller. Chaz was still telling his story, but it was clear most of Amelia’s attention was focused on Delilah and not him. He finally gave up and stopped talking. She didn’t even seem to notice.

  Taking her by the shoulders, Daryl turned her away from the stall and toward the barn door. “That coffee should be ready by now. Would you mind filling those thermoses and bringing them back down here?”

  “Okay.” She cast a last look over her shoulder, biting her lip as the mare let out another groan before hurrying on her errand.

  “That won’t keep her away long,” Chaz said.

  “I know.”

  “You should tell her to go back to the house and stay there. She doesn’t need to see this. It could get bad.”

  Daryl snorted. “Yeah, why don’t you tell her that?”

  “Because she’s not mine.”

  Daryl refused to respond to that. Instead, he turned his attention to his father as Hank stepped quietly into the stall and slowly approached the mare, crooning soft words that caused her ears to twitch and turn, listening as he spoke to her while placing his hands along her rippling side as another contraction hit. Her entire body seemed to get into the effort to push her foal into the world, but by the time the contraction ended, there still wasn’t any sign of it emerging.