Loving Sarah (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Julie Shelton

  Suddenly feeling as if she were choking, Sarah took a step back. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was afraid she’d go into cardiac arrest. She never should have come in here. The memories were too raw—

  Blindly she turned to leave, but Adam was right behind her, blocking the exit.

  She had to get out of there. “I—I’m sorry, I need—”

  “Sarah. Sarah.” Adam placed his hand on her shoulder, and, oddly, she calmed instantly. “C’mon, sweet pea, let’s get you out in the fresh air,” he said quietly, turning to guide her out of the building back into the warm sunshine. Placing his warm hand firmly against the small of her back, he ushered her over to an ancient live oak tree whose bottommost branches were so low they practically touched the ground. Carefully, he lowered her down onto one. “What is it, love, you look pale as a ghost.” His hand lifted to pull some straw out of her hair and her gaze flew up to his.

  “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “For a moment there…”

  “Tell me about it. It’ll do you good.”

  “So you’re a psychiatrist, too?” She attempted a laugh.

  He smiled. “You’ll get my bill.” He hunkered down in front of her and took her hand in his, watching her carefully, giving her the time she needed to get herself back under control.

  She took a deep, calming breath. “This all used to be a horse farm,” she explained with an expansive wave of her other hand. “There was a whole complex of barns and other buildings up here, as well as a racetrack. That’s what the Marshall family fortune was founded on—race horses, instead of cotton or rice or indigo like so many other Southern families. We owned some of the finest horseflesh in the country. Unfortunately, we lost everything in the war. The Civil War, that is. Or as it’s commonly known in these parts, The War of Northern Aggression.”

  “Those damn Yankees,” Adam murmured in commiseration.

  “Actually, it wasn’t the Yankees, it was the Confederacy. The War Department commandeered every last one of our horses for Lee’s cavalry. They paid us, of course. In Confederate money.” Her smile faded. “My mother’s dream was to start a breeding farm and rebuild the glory of the Marshall Stables. She was an accomplished horsewoman and owned several thoroughbreds. My father sold them after she—she died.” Her tone became wistful as her eyes filled with a profound sadness.

  “You said you were eight when she died,” Adam said, wishing he knew what to say that would wipe that stricken look from her face. “What happened? Had she been ill?”

  Sarah’s gaze fell to her lap. “No, she—she committed suicide.”

  He gasped in shock. Shit. Why didn’t Jess ever tell me this? “I’m so sorry, love, I didn’t know. Jess never told me, otherwise I never would’ve brought it up.”

  She shrugged. “I doubt he knew. The official story, the one printed in the newspapers, was that she’d had a heart attack. But I knew the real story, because I was the one who found her, sprawled across the bed with the empty pill bottle still in her hand.” Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, battling to keep the tears at bay. It was a battle she lost. As she lowered her head, two of the salty drops plopped down onto their clasped hands.

  “Talk to me, love,” Adam urged gently, wanting desperately to take her into his arms, but knowing he didn’t have that right. “You’ve obviously been carrying this around inside you for years. It’s time to let it go.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing her options, then she heaved an enormous, shaky sigh. “Her eyes were open.” She resumed her narrative in a hushed voice. “I kept shaking her and crying and begging her to wake up. The next thing I knew, my father was pulling me off the bed and ordering everyone out.” Her eyes brimmed, her throat thickened with tears. “I couldn’t bear to stay in the house, so I ran up here to be with my best friend, my pony, Princess. We had two stable hands, an elderly black man named Sam’l and his son, Po. They were never supposed to let me go riding alone, but that particular morning, Gadfly was foaling and they were busy with her, so I snuck in here and took Princess out bareback.”

  She was suddenly swept with a tide of tactile memories of that long-ago day. The feel of her mother’s skin, cold and clammy beneath her touch. Her own body wracked with heart-wrenching sobs. The smell of horses and sweet, fresh hay. The warmth of Princess’s hairy body, the sheer girth of the pony’s barrel chest between her legs, muscles rippling beneath her. The coarseness of Princess’s mane clutched in her fingers.

  “I wasn’t supposed to leave the path, but, for some reason, that day it didn’t seem to matter.” Now that she’d started talking, she couldn’t seem to stop, the words tumbling all over themselves in their desperation to be heard. Tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks.

  “We went through the woods down to the creek. By the time we got there, it had started to rain. When I tried to turn Princess around to go back up the hill, she balked. She reared up and I lost my grip on her mane.” Sarah pulled her right hand from Adam’s and swiped at her wet cheeks. “I fell into the water and hit my head on a rock. It knocked me out cold. When Princess returned to the stable without me, Sam’l and Po were beside themselves. They searched for me for nearly an hour before they finally found me. I had a concussion and hypothermia from lying in the water for so long.”

  Her hand fell back into her lap. “When I got home from the hospital a week later, my Mom had already been buried. I ran up here to bring Princess a carrot…” She swallowed past the painful constriction in her throat. “The barn was deserted. My father had sold all the horses and fired Sam’l and Po.”

  Silence stretched between them before she added softly, “I never got a chance to say good-bye to any of them—not my Mom, not Princess or the horses, not Sam’l and Po.” She looked up at him, guilt and remorse swimming in her tear-filled eyes. “If I hadn’t sneaked out like that, if I hadn’t left the path that day…” She gulped. “I got Princess killed and Po and Sam’l fired.”

  “Aw, sweetheart, that’s not true at all.” Standing up, Adam pulled her up off the branch she’d been sitting on and slid his arms around her. Cradling her head against his chest, he held her as sudden, violent sobs wracked her slender frame. Sobs that had been locked deep inside her for seventeen years. “You were only a child, love. You can’t possibly be responsible for what happened that day or the days following.”

  “Father rarely spoke to me again. He could barely bring himself to look at me—said I looked too much like my mother, like that was something to be ashamed of. It was already bad enough that I hadn’t been born a boy to carry on the mighty Marshall name. Now he seemed to blame me for my mother’s death, too.”

  Silently cursing the cold, heartless judge, Adam murmured quietly, “that was a terrible thing to do to you, Sarah. But you mustn’t blame yourself.”

  She sniffled, shaking her head. “I know, but—”

  “No buts. It wasn’t your fault, period.” Loosening his arms, he lifted one hand to stroke the tears from her wet cheek. She stared at it, fascinated. It was a large hand, hard and lean, with long, shapely fingers that were heavily calloused from years of handling the world’s deadliest weapons. How can something shaped by such brutality be so gentle? she wondered dazedly.

  “I loved my mother so much,” she murmured, almost to herself, “but she was a very melancholy woman. Sometimes she’d go for days without ever getting out of bed. I used to sneak into her room and lie next to her, hugging her. But she rarely hugged me back. She would say to me, ‘Sarah, make me happy,’ and I would try, I really would. I would dance for her or draw pictures, bring her flowers from the garden, or read her a fairy tale—she loved fairy tales. But no matter what I did, it didn’t help. I couldn’t make her happy…” Her voice trailed off.

  Adam waited and when she didn’t continue, he said in a quiet murmur of his own, “That was an awfully large burden to place on your shoulders, sweetheart. You were only eight. It wasn’t your job to make her happy.”

  She nod
ded against his chest. “I know that. Up here,” she tapped the side of her head. But in here…” She sighed, placing her hand over her heart. With supreme effort, she struggled to reel in her tangled emotions. She’d been ambushed today, by memories of events she thought she’d buried long ago. It was shocking to realize just how close to the surface the guilt and sadness still were. She drew a deep, cleansing breath and pushed herself out of Adam’s embrace. “Sorry for the waterworks, Adam,” she said with a smile that felt somewhat brittle around the edges. She gave a sharp little laugh. “You must think I’m completely insane.”

  He grinned. “Not completely.”

  She touched his shirt with her fingertips, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the wet fabric. “I got you all wet.”

  “I’ll dry,” he assured her. Christ, she took his breath away. Even red-faced and swollen-eyed from weeping, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid eyes on. It took every ounce of his control not to pull her into his arms and kiss her. And the sudden vision of her naked body bound spread-eagled to the bed nearly strangled him. He smiled down at her, trying, with little success, to shake the erotic vision that was threatening to undo him.

  Completely unaware of his scrutiny and the battle that was raging inside him, she bent forward, brushing dust and straw off her linen shorts. “I’m not usually such a crybaby. It’s just that, this is the first time I’ve been up here since that awful day. I guess—I guess seeing it all again just brought everything back to me.”

  “I understand completely. Feel better?”

  Surprised, she nodded her head. “Yeah, actually, I do. A lot better. Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder.”

  “You’ll get my bill.”

  She laughed.

  “Seriously. My shoulder is always available, sweet pea. At reasonable hourly rates.” He grinned. “C’mon, let’s see the rest of the property and get back to the house so I can work up a preliminary proposal for you. I know you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

  “Jesse told you?” she asked curiously.

  “I’ve been staying with him for the past couple of weeks while my condo was being renovated. We have no secrets from each other.” Except one, he thought grimly. And that one’s a killer.

  She let him lead her back to the golf cart. “So,” she said brightly as she turned the vehicle around and headed back toward the house, “sounds like your childhood was pretty lonely, too.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” He shrugged. “After my parents’ funerals, I was sent to live with my great-aunt Carol and great-uncle Joe, my Mom’s aunt and uncle. They were the only family I had left. They were much older than my mom, very rich and very busy. Their lives were already pretty much planned out and they didn’t have much time to devote to a lonely three-year-old.”

  A hint of wistfulness colored his voice. “They traveled a lot—Europe, the Orient, the Amazon. But they took me with them whenever they could. And after I started school, we were always together for summers and holidays.” He shrugged. “I turned out okay, I guess, so I can’t complain.”

  She wanted to agree, but said nothing as she pulled to a stop outside the garage.

  After a thorough tour of the inside of the house, Adam sat comfortably at the kitchen counter, typing madly on his laptop, while Sarah bustled about making iced tea and cutting two enormous slices of coconut crème pie. They talked easily as they ate, about books, movies, music, and TV shows. Turned out they had a lot of favorites in common. She felt as if she’d known him for years.

  By the time he finished working up his proposals, she had options for three different levels of security for the house and grounds. Her head spun. Securing Marshall’s Hill, especially the way it needed to be secured, was going to be a logistical and financial nightmare.

  She walked him out to his car. He turned and took both her hands in his, lifting them one by one to his lips. “Thank you for trusting me with your memories today, Sarah. And thanks for being such a gracious hostess. I can see why Jess is so crazy about you.”

  The breath left her lungs. She looked up at him, carefully schooling her expression to keep the hope from shining out of her like a beacon. “Jesse’s crazy about me?”

  “He’s in love with you, and as soon as he figures it out, he’ll tell you so himself.”

  “Are you sure he will figure it out?” she asked cautiously.

  Adam’s dimples deepened as he smiled. “He’d better, or I’ll be facilitating his thought processes with a swift kick to the rear.”

  Sarah laughed. “Thanks.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll get my bill. Seriously, sweet pea,” he added, sobering, “that’s what friends are for. And I am your friend, Sarah. You can come to me for anything you need. Anything. I’ll always be here for you.”

  “Thank you, Adam.” Rising on tiptoe, she touched her lips gently to his and nearly gasped at the current of electricity that crackled through her. Wow. She felt like lightning was shooting out her fingertips. How could she respond so to this man? This man who was not Jesse?

  He pulled away from her, though he didn’t release her hands. For just the space of a heartbeat, his expression was filled with something that looked an awful lot like regret, before he blinked and smiled at her. “Let me know when you decide which system you want to install, and I’ll get right on it,” he said as he got into his Land Rover and started the engine.

  He waved as he drove off, waiting for his cock to deflate and resume its normal dimensions as he tried to sort through the chaotic jumble of his thoughts. The old Rick Springfield classic “Jessie’s Girl” was cycling over and over through his mind.

  At one point while Adam had been tending Jesse’s wounds in that cave in Afghanistan, Jesse had become delirious with fever, talking about the two of them sharing Sarah—nothing new; the two men had shared many women over the years. At the time Adam had gone along with Jesse’s ramblings, but was relieved when Jesse never mentioned it again. Because if Sarah loved Jesse as much as Jesse loved her, there would be no room there for Adam. And even if, as a submissive, she acquiesced to Jesse’s command to let Adam use her, he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her doing it to please Jesse. He wanted her to acquiesce to please him. Because he had commanded it. Because she loved him as much as she loved Jesse.

  Jesus, I’m so screwed. I’m in love with Jesse’s girl and there’s nothing I can do about it. Not without betraying the best friend I’ve ever had. Adam hated secrets and this one—the one he was going to have to keep for the rest of his life—was a real doozie. But if he didn’t keep it—if the truth ever came out—he could destroy three lives.

  Christ, this was a goat-fuck just waiting to happen. For just one nanosecond he almost wished he were back in Af-fucking-ghanistan or on pirate patrol off the coast of Somalia. There, at least, his life would be a hell of a lot simpler.

  * * * *

  At three o’clock, the local florist delivered a crystal vase filled with a colorful profusion of wildflowers. Wildflowers, not roses. Phillip had always sent roses. Pink, insipid sweetheart roses.

  She hated roses.

  Shaking off the thought, Sarah smiled and opened the card.

  Until tonight. Don’t wear panties.

  Oh! My! God!

  She couldn’t believe the blast of sheer lust that shot through her at those last three words. She should be shocked at his audacity. But she wasn’t. She’d known he was a Dom. Known it for years. It had been there in every word he’d ever spoken, every move he’d ever made. And she responded to it now the way she always had—with a need so fierce, it consumed her. She was suddenly so hot, she was sweating. Her body hummed, buzzed, trembled with an excitement that left her legs so weak she feared they would collapse.

  Don’t wear panties? She waved her hand in front of her face. Could she really do that? Could she go out in public without wearing underwear? Just the thought of being held against Jesse’s muscular body as he steered her around the dance floo
r, his hard cock pressed against her, both of them knowing that only the thin material of her dress kept her from being completely naked…Oh, God!

  Her belly clenched with an aching need that had her whimpering with anticipation. She stood there, thighs pressed together, feeling the hot moisture leaking onto her white lace thong. She was never going to survive tonight’s date. She wasn’t even sure she would survive until tonight’s date!

  The ringing phone jerked her out of her reverie. She went to answer it, knowing, somehow, that it was Jesse.

  “Hey, sugar, get my flowers?”

  “I’m looking at them right now.” Her voice softened. “They’re beautiful, Jesse. Thank you.”

  “They reminded me of you. Wild and sweet.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Are you gonna do as I asked?”

  “You didn’t ask,” she countered. “You ordered.”

  “Irrelevant,” he retorted. “Are you?”

  She hesitated, vacillating back and forth. She had never done anything so blatantly erotic as going out in public without underwear. Could she really go through with it? Should she?

  “The choice, of course, is entirely yours,” Jesse went on pleasantly, as if he were following her thought processes. “Just understand that if you don’t do what I want, there will be consequences.”

  A thrill of excitement raced through her. “Consequences?” she asked weakly. “What sorts of consequences?”

  “You’ll have to be punished.”

  “Punished!” she squeaked. “Punished how?”

  “Wear panties and you’ll find out. See you at seven.”

  He hung up, leaving her quivering with alarm and anticipation. Punished! He wouldn’t! Would he? She couldn’t stop the erotic picture that flashed through her mind of herself lying naked across Jesse’s lap as he spanked her bare behind. Holy Moley!

  Seeking something normal to do, she carried the vase of flowers upstairs so she could begin getting ready for what she knew was going to be at once the most terrific and the most terrifying date she’d ever been on.