by Dawn Ryder
A little tingle of suspicion touched her nape as Celeste watched the way the old woman’s eyes sparkled. The younger girl was looking back and forth between Nartan and Celeste with a smile that matched her grandmother’s.
Celeste nodded before turning and moving off toward Sabra. Nartan fell into step beside her. A quick glance to the side showed her the stiff set of his lips, but she took a second look when she noticed the flush darkening the skin of his neck.
She choked on a laugh.
Nartan reached out and cupped her elbow. “Don’t be a bitch,” he warned in a low tone.
“What? And notice that your grandmother is a formidable woman? Or that you respect her?” She offered him a genuine smile. “That part won you points in my book.”
He made a low sound under his breath. “She’s also nosy. I forgot just how little respect she has for my privacy.”
Celeste missed a step. “Are you saying…”
“That she followed me outside…yes,” he confirmed.
Her mouth went dry. Nartan suddenly laughed. “You blush.”
“Well, it beats having no shame,” she countered.
“Which is how you see me?”
“You’re the one who wants to approach sex like a business merger.” Why was the bloody warehouse so large? She picked up her pace. “Can’t help it if your grandmother doesn’t like your lifestyle choices.”
“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce.” His fingers tightened on her elbow. “You’re a lawyer. You know that.”
They’d almost made it to the head table. Celeste stopped and sent Nartan a hard look. “That’s a crappy thing to say at your best friend’s wedding. Sounds like you have your own trust issues.”
“So stop throwing stones because I live in a glass house?” He made a low sound that resembled a growl.
“We do have some things in common,” she replied without thinking. Once again, conversation was flowing between them, feeling so natural that she didn’t have the heart to stop. “Someone taught you to distrust relationships too. So you’re a playboy and I’m a recluse, but we’re both guilty of giving in to our… What did you call them? Ghosts.”
There was a flare of surprise in his blue eyes before she turned and moved toward Sabra. Her friend looked up and one of the catering staff moved over to pull her chair back for her. There was a rustle of silk taffeta as she moved, and the candlelight flickered on the surface of the pearl necklace fastened around her throat. Deep-sea pearls and all perfectly matched. The single strand was worth a small fortune.
Celeste was caught by the way Tarak turned to look at Sabra. There was an unmistakable flash of heat in his eyes and a softening around his mouth that touched her heart. He was always aware of where Sabra was. Devotion wasn’t something that could be faked. It was found in the way a person’s gaze returned over and over to the object of their desire. Celeste found herself looking back at Nartan, only to feel herself locking gazes with his cobalt-blue stare.
She felt the connection as much as she saw it. The room seemed to shift, the breath in her lungs freezing as her lips tingled.
With memory? Or maybe with need. She didn’t have enough brain power at her command to decide. He moved, reaching out to catch the bundle that was slipping out of her distracted hold.
“One good thing about ghosts…” he whispered softly. “They lose their grip in the light of day.”
Her mouth went dry as she shifted closer to him, completely on autopilot. His magnetism was drawing her forward and she was finished questioning why it was a bad idea.
He muttered something in Apache, low and almost savagely.
There was a giggle from his cousin before Celeste felt her face go up in flames. Nartan’s complexion darkened as his lips curled back to show her his clenched teeth.
“Timing is everything…” he growled.
“We might both be grateful for it in the morning.”
He wanted to argue with her. She saw denial snap in his eyes. A soft bubble of amusement escaped from her lips before she realized it. His eyes narrowed to slits, his features tightening with a promise that sent a ripple of excitement through her.
“Challenge accepted.” He turned her loose to offer Sabra his hand. Her friend took his hand, using it to steady herself as she descended the three steps that led to the raised dais the head table had been set on.
She had her fingers in the fire now…
But she wasn’t entirely sure if she regretted it or not.
Nartan’s cousin stood staring at her with dark eyes full of merriment. She was barely a teenager but just enough past childhood to spot attraction. The girl’s lips split into a wide smile before she covered her mouth with her hand and giggled behind her fingers.
Nartan stiffened. He sent a stern look at the young girl, but she was unimpressed and just smiled brightly at him.
Celeste tightened her hold on the dress and hurried after Sabra, the giggle echoing inside her head as she fought the urge to join in.
Leaving the room didn’t prove to be the escape she intended it to be, though. Sabra barely waited until they’d made it into the office-turned-dressing-room before pegging Celeste with a question.
“Did you go outside with Nartan?”
Celeste set the bundle down on a desk and sent Sabra a withering look. “I went outside and he followed.”
“Did you kiss him?” Sabra pulled her veil off and set it aside.
“Sabra.” Celeste tried to sound ominous but ended up merely sounding wiped out.
Her friend offered her no mercy. “You did.”
“He started it,” she groused and turned to help her friend out of the designer wedding gown.
“Ummmm… He looks like that type. The kind who likes to start things, that is.” Sabra hummed before ducking into the bathroom and turning on the shower. “Nartan is just the sort of man you need to send Caspian running for the hills.”
“He’d shit a brick, and I don’t mean out of fear.”
“That’s the best part.” Sabra’s head appeared around the doorway. “I hope the idea of you moving on burns a hole the size of Wyoming in him.”
“I don’t really need him thinking about me at all. Thanks.” That was a can of worms she really didn’t want to open.
Sabra shrugged. “True. And not true. He’d want you to remain true to him and he wouldn’t care about your reasoning, just that you are still sleeping alone.”
She disappeared, leaving Celeste in blissful privacy as she faced the truth of her friend’s words.
Caspian would love knowing how empty her bed was and had been since their divorce. But what did it say about her if she had sex for the sake of taking a stab at him? That was worse than treating sex like a business merger. It made her petty.
She sighed, feeling half-alive.
“Be right out, it was hot on that dance floor,” Sabra called.
Celeste heard the shower door open and close. The water ran for a couple of minutes, giving her time to unwrap the bundle. Inside was a Native American dress. The scent of leather rose from it as the fabric was unfolded. There were tiny beads sewn in intricate patterns and long pieces of fringe. It was darkened by age but the hide had been a light-colored one. The darkening only enhanced it, giving it a dignity at least equal to the designer wedding dress.
“And another reason—” Sabra reappeared in only her underwear.
Celeste lifted the dress and shot her friend a hard look. “Let’s get you married today.”
Sabra chuckled. “And miss the chance to prod you over your little encounter with Nartan? Never.” Sabra waited until the soft buckskin slid over her head. “Although, by the way you were captivated by him just now…I’d say it was nothing little. In fact, I think he rocked your world with that kiss.”
“How much champagne did you have?”
“Nice try.” Sabra wrinkled her nose at her and held up one finger. “I didn’t want to risk falling off the horse during my Apache wedding.”
Celeste pulled the pins out of her friend’s hair and brushed it out so that it fell in soft waves to her shoulders. There was a soft rap on the door before the younger girl who had been following Nartan’s grandmother peeked inside. She smiled.
“Grandfather says come soon. The sun is setting.”
“Ready?” Celeste asked.
Sabra inspected her reflection before turning toward the door. “The question is, are you ready? Oh friend who is avoiding questions.”
Celeste shook her head. “You’re beating a dead horse.”
“According to my reports, Nartan did a good job of breathing life into you.”
Celeste groaned but Sabra reached for the door and pulled it open. Her father was there, waiting in his dress uniform to escort her to the last ceremony of the day. He offered her his arm and proudly strolled back into the warehouse with Sabra.
The music had shifted to a soft flute-and-drum song that was distinctly Native American. Tarak and Nartan’s kin sat in a half circle with their instruments. There wasn’t any wood polish on the instruments, but feathers dangled from lengths of leather as they played music that seemed ageless.
The guests had lined up at the other end of the warehouse. Tarak stood, holding the bridle of a magnificent horse. His tux was gone, a buckskin shirt and pair of jeans in its place. Nartan had changed as well and Celeste discovered herself struck dumb.
Speechless.
She was suddenly caught in a moment that had no time signature. They might have been standing there two hundred years before or any time in the future. All she knew was that she’d never felt as moved by any wedding before. It was genuine and focused on the couple so completely that her eyes stung with unshed tears.
Tarak led the horse down the center of the room, followed by Nartan leading a gorgeous black stallion. Tarak moved closer and closer, his attention on Sabra while the steady beating of the drum seemed to match the rhythm of Celeste’s heart. Strength bled off him, and the animal seemed like some sort of incarnation of that power. He held out the bridle, offering it to Sabra.
“I bring you the finest horse I own. You are worth a hundred more.”
The intensity in the way Sabra reached for the bridle held everyone spellbound. Tarak’s dark eyes followed her every motion and his lips twitched, betraying his pleasure as she wrapped her hand around the leather. Nartan let out another cry, the rest of his family echoing it. The horse snorted as Tarak offered his hand to Sabra’s father.
A moment later, Tarak turned to his bride and lifted her up onto the back of the horse. Nartan held out his horse’s reins and Tarak eagerly took them. He mounted and settled on top of the animal with a skill that proved how comfortable he was in the saddle. The guests applauded but the gesture seemed oddly out of place. Ignorant, really. The echo of Nartan’s cry suited the moment better.
Nartan reached out and slapped the flank of the horse Sabra sat on. It snorted, tossing its braided mane, and headed for the wide-open doors. Tarak took the lead and Sabra’s horse followed. Celeste found herself hurrying to catch a glimpse of them against the pristine beauty of the Alaskan wilderness.
It was breathtaking. The horses climbed the hillside easily, carrying the couple away from man-made structures.
Simply beautiful.
“Don’t worry.”
Nartan had moved close to her while she was absorbed with watching the bridal couple depart.
Awareness rippled through her. “Worry about what?”
“That your friend is heading for a primitive honeymoon campsite.” He pointed up to the ridge. “Tarak had a cabin built up there.”
A rich man and his resources.
Nartan reached out and cupped her elbow. “Why does that bother you?”
“I was enjoying the simplicity of the moment,” she confessed.
“You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy all the comforts money can buy.”
His tone had hardened. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. She was on the verge of labeling him arrogant again, but there was something deeper in his eyes, something he was keeping hidden. His gaze lowered to her lip, settling on where her teeth were pressing into it. Heat licked across her face and flowed down her body.
“I don’t care for the sense of entitlement that goes with it.” She turned and faced him, indulging herself for just a moment, letting herself soak up the raw power radiating from him. It was hard and distinctly male, touching a part of her she’d thought stone-cold dead.
“You don’t either,” she decided. “That’s why you’re unhappy.”
He chuckled, the sound a warning. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I love my life.”
“No, I’m right, as right as you are about me.” She cut him off. “You play the game, but it leaves something in you unsatisfied.”
His lips thinned and he reached out to cup her elbow. He stroked it, sending a shiver down her. “There will be nothing…unsatisfied between us, Celeste. I promise you. Nothing.”
Now there was a promise…
It was tempting. Really tempting. The raw pulse of need pounding through her was sharp enough to make her hesitate. His blue eyes glistened with determination, making her breathless.
She shook her head and his grip tightened. “I’ve been a rich man’s toy. The trappings lose their shine rather quickly, but as you said, you don’t have to go far to find company.” She lifted her elbow and stepped back. “So I’m sure you’ll never miss me.”
For sure, part of her was going to miss the charge he gave her. Withdrawal bit into her as she made her way toward the house and escape from her high heels.
It promised to be the only mercy she was going to find.
Chapter 3
Celeste growled at her alarm clock when it began chirping. But if she were honest, it was a relief to be awakened by something other than thoughts of Nartan. Her mind insisted on playing back every touch, every ripple of sensation, until she was ready to scream. She had even tried practicing her tae kwon do forms in an attempt to clear her head. Nothing worked.
At least she hadn’t heard the wolves.
She rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. Hot water made a huge difference on her outlook. By the time she’d dressed and applied a light coat of makeup, she was grinning.
Her Alaskan adventure was about to get under way.
She zipped up her toilette bag and stuffed it into her suitcase. The house was quiet, the double doors to the master suite open for once, because Tarak and Sabra had taken off on their honeymoon the night before. A house felt different when it was empty. Like it wasn’t really whole.
Within an hour she was aboard one of the private jets Tarak Nektosha owned. The sleek aircraft seated eight and even had a steward who served her breakfast once they took off. She peered out the window, enjoying the view of Alaska. After a while, she dug her travel book out of her bag and studied her itinerary. Mount McKinley, Denali National Park, mushing, and a tour of Glacier Bay National Park. If she was lucky, she’d get to the see the northern lights when she reached the edge of the Arctic Circle.
The small plane circled before coming to a perfect landing near a majestic lodge built facing Mount McKinley. When Celeste disembarked and stepped onto the pavement, she was disappointed to see the entire peak shrouded in clouds.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Connor. Denali will come out,” an Alaskan woman remarked from where she stood beside a small, off-road type of golf cart. She had on a pressed green shirt with “Glen Stoke Lodge” embroidered on the pocket. �
�The mountain makes its own weather but it’s worth waiting for.”
The steward delivered Celeste’s bag and offered her a two-finger salute. Climbing into the cart, Celeste enjoyed the sting of the cooler weather against her cheeks. They rounded a bend and she gasped with delight. The Glen Stoke Lodge was even better than the pictures in the brochure.
It was built to look like a cabin, with huge logs forming the front and a roof that rose into a sharp A-frame to accommodate snow. The building also had a foundation of smooth, rounded rocks and large picture windows. Off to the right side was a huge viewing area with padded seating and fire pits.
Wings of rooms stretched out on either side of the main lodge, and wildflowers grew all over the property.
“The penthouse suite has been reserved for you.”
The woman drove right up to the front steps before putting the golf cart in park and hopping out. A uniformed doorman was already pulling Celeste’s luggage from the cart.
“This way, Ms. Connor…”
The interior was just as grand. There was a huge, glass-enclosed fireplace in the center of the lobby. Off to the right there was a restaurant, the sound of dishes clinking and the scent of food drifting out to tease her nose. The desk manager came striding up to welcome her and show her to her room.
The penthouse suite was everything she’d expected. There was a sitting room, and beyond a doorway were the master bedroom and bath. All the furnishings were just a bit rustic, giving the place a frontier feel. Yet it didn’t lack for modern amenities. Every detail had been double-checked, and the small fireplace in the sitting room was on, even with the private patio doors open to let in the fresh Alaskan air.
But she was drawn to the valet stand in the bedroom. A pair of snow pants, boots, and everything else were laid out on it. An envelope was sitting on a polished wood tray in front of it. She broke the seal and pulled the card out of it.
Please find everything needed for dog mushing. You will be airlifted to the camp on the glacier as soon as you are ready.
She smiled and even squealed. Tossing the card away, she stripped so she could get into the pants. They rustled as she put them on. There was a short-sleeved top as well, and she quickly discovered that she needed it to keep from overheating before she got to the glacier. The boots were a little clunky but fit perfectly. Ready to leave, she folded the jacket over her arm and headed out of the suite.