His Chosen Bride

by Marcia Evanick

  “Do you really want a wife who has to be baby-sat?”

  “Not really, but I prefer my wife to be alive when we celebrate our first anniversary.”

  “Careful, Mason,” Gillian said as she took a step closer to him. “Someone would think you might actually like me.”

  A seductive gleam seemed to have entered her eyes. He was all for seduction or any other game Gillian was willing to play. Last night he was unsure of what pleased him more—finding out Gillian was a virgin, or the way she responded to his every touch.

  “Who said I didn’t like you?” He took a step and closed the distance between them. There were many things he was beginning to like about his wife. He might not agree on her career, but he had to respect her fortitude against his opposition. He liked the way she refused to cower to a madman, but he still feared for her safety. Gillian was the kind of woman you could depend upon during a crisis. She would keep her head and not go screaming off into the night. He admired her strength, even when it was pitted against his own. There was more to his wife than just a beautiful face and body.

  He liked the way her hair caught the sun, turning the golden tresses into streaks of shimmering light. The way her pale blue eyes changed into turbulent pools whenever he kissed her. He especially prized the way she shattered in his arms when they made love.

  Mason reached out and tenderly stroked her cheek. “There are many things about you, wife, that I’m beginning to like.”

  She turned her head and placed a kiss in the center of his palm. “Such as?”

  His fingers trailed down her throat, ending where the deep V of her blouse began. “The provocative little moan you make in the back of your throat when I’m deep inside you.”

  “I moan?”

  Mason chuckled softly at the flush of red sweeping up her cheeks. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He worked the first tiny button through its hole. “I happen to like that moan.” The second button came undone.

  Gillian’s hands came around his neck and she placed a kiss on his jaw.

  Mason felt her cool lips against his rough jaw. “I should shave.”

  Her arms tightened. “Don’t you dare. I happen to like the dark shadow. It makes you look a little bit wild.”

  “Wild?” No one had ever called him wild before. It was an interesting observation, considering Gillian herself made him feel slightly uncivilized. “I don’t want to scratch you.” The next two buttons came undone.

  Her fingers caressed his jaw. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Mason noticed that her eyes were turning a stormy blue, and they hadn’t even kissed yet. Her lips looked sweet and ripe, ready for his loving. Several more buttons found themselves undone. “You might change your mind once you know where I’m planning on kissing you.”

  Gillian smiled, stood on her toes, and with her lips gave one of his earlobes a playful tug. “Promises, promises.”

  He gave a low growl, just to show her how wild he was feeling at the moment, and finished unbuttoning her blouse. With a quick brush of his hands, the silky garment landed near her feet. With the tip of his finger he traced the edge of the ice blue lace cupping her breasts. Dark, rosy nipples budded beneath the lace. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  She placed one of her hands upon his chest, and with the other she flattened his hand over the curve of her left breast. “I would say it’s the same as you do to me.”

  Mason could feel the pounding of her heart beneath his hand. The thunderous rhythm matched his own beat for beat. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her against his body so that she would have no doubt what she was doing to him. The semi-arousal he had walked around with all day had turned into an aching mass of need screaming for relief. Screaming for Gillian. “I’d say it’s harder.”

  Gillian closed her eyes and wiggled her hips against him. “I’d say you were right.”

  With every sway of her hips her lace-covered breasts teased his shirt and his control. His arousal thickened behind the barrier of his pants. Heat fired his blood as her fingers pulled the hem of his shirt out of the waistband of his pants and expertly undid the two buttons at the base of his throat. With a flick of his fingers he undid her bra and pushed it off her shoulders. With a twist of her hands she had his shirt off and sent it flying across the room.

  He bent his head and placed openmouthed kisses down her throat to the seductive nubs pleading for his attention. He was more than willing to give them his attention, along with every other part of her body. They had all night, all week, all year. Hell, they might even have a lifetime to tease, taste and satisfy each other.

  He captured her wandering fingers as they reached for his belt. He raised his mouth from the moist nub he had suckled and tried to calm his breathing with a deep breath. “We have to slow down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if we don’t, I’m afraid we’ll be making love on the floor in a minute.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the tip of each finger.

  Gillian glanced down and eyed the thick carpet with great interest. “I’ve never made love on the floor before.”

  “I know.” She had only made love in a bed. His bed.

  “Is it truly uncomfortable?” Her hand trailed down his chest, teasing his dark nipples beneath their covering of curls.

  “Gillian,” Mason growled in desperation as her hand went lower. He couldn’t bring himself to stop its descent. When her fingers pressed against his hardness he knew he had lost. “You’re about to find out.”

  Gillian opened her eyes a half hour later and tried to stifle the giggle threatening to erupt. Of all the scenarios she could picture her new husband in, this wasn’t one of them. They were both totally naked, lying on a bed of discarded clothes on Mason’s office floor. Well, she had her answer. The thick hunter green carpeting covering the floor was both soft and comfortable, but she was afraid she was going to have a couple of rug burns in some very interesting places. The giggle she’d been trying to control escaped.

  “What’s so funny?” Mason leaned up on one elbow and stared down at his wife.

  “Uh, nothing.” Mason seemed unamused by the situation, but she thought she could detect a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You really ought to give your cleaning woman a raise.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She glanced back under the desk less than a foot away from her head. “Not a dust bunny in sight.”

  “And how do you suppose I go about telling her how we know there aren’t any?”

  This time she was positive the corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll explain it to her if you want,” she replied impishly.

  Mason stood up in one swift movement with her in his arms. “You, dear wife, will not say a word to Lottie.”

  Gillian wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled deeper into his arms. She glanced at the room as he carried her out the door and into the hallway. “I don’t think I’ll have to.”

  “Why’s that?” He took the steps two at a time.

  “Not only will our clothes scattered throughout the room give us away—” She paused to place a kiss on his collarbone and admire the way the muscles in his arms bunched and swelled as he carried her weight.

  “I’ll pick them up later.” He carried her into the master bedroom and deposited her in the middle of the bed. “What else was there?”

  “Next time you’re in there, check out the interesting imprints our bodies made on the piling of the carpet.” She chuckled at the flush sweeping up Mason’s cheeks. “Anyone who isn’t half-blind will know these marks didn’t come from a shoe.”

  Mason’s deep chuckle joined hers as he lowered himself onto the bed and into her arms. “Woman, you are a menace to my peace of mind.”

  Gillian felt his warmth cover her and smiled.

  * * *

  The leeches were everywhere. Their gaping mouths were wide open and searching for blood. Dozens of slimy black bodies covered
the bed in their pursuit for food. They were creeping their way up legs, over arms and across Gillian’s face. The more Mason pulled them off her, the more there were. Dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of bloodsucking leeches were trying to drain the very life out of his wife!

  Mason jerked up in bed and wildly looked around. The faint-glow from the hallway was the only light in the room. He glanced down beside him. Gillian was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the terror he was feeling. His gaze skimmed the bed looking for any signs of what he had just witnessed. Nothing. Nothing but wrinkled sheets and the soft sound of his wife’s breathing.

  What in the hell had happened? One minute he had been cradling his sleeping wife’s satisfied body and slowly allowing sleep to claim him, and the next there were leeches everywhere. It had been so real, he could still feel their squishy bodies between his fingers and see the marks they left behind as he pulled them off Gillian. She hadn’t cried out; in fact, not one sound had escaped her throat. But her eyes had spoken of her terror, of the pain, pleading with him to help her. The more he tried to help, the worse it became.

  Mason slowly slipped out of the bed and glanced around the floor, the walls, the furniture. Not a single thing was out of place. His hands were trembling and the sweat of fear coated his body. He reached for his robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it on before softly closing the door and turning on the light.

  He grimaced at his own reflection in the mirror. His face was chalky white and his dark eyes held a wild look. With an unsteady hand he turned on the cold water and splashed his face. He yanked the thick white towel from the rack and buried his dripping face into its softness and groaned. What he had just experienced was either a dream or a premonition.

  He’d never experienced foresight before and honestly believed he didn’t possess that particular power. A few members of the society had been gifted with clairvoyance, but he wasn’t one of them. As for dreaming, he didn’t know. He’d never dreamed before, and if this was a normal dream, he never wanted to again. What he had experienced must be what people called a nightmare. It was the only explanation he could think of. He had just weathered his first nightmare, and he was afraid it had won.

  He draped the towel back onto the rack and left the bathroom. Gillian was still sleeping deeply, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. The glow from the hallway illuminated the fiery chain of rubies surrounding her delicate neck. Last night he had realized that he’d forgotten to give her her wedding present. He remembered the gift earlier, after they had made love at a more leisurely pace in the comfort of their bed. She had had tears in her eyes as he fastened the necklace for her.

  The rubies burned with their fire against her exquisite throat. It was the only thing she was wearing. That and the fragrance of their love.

  Mason ran his fingers through his hair and read the house. Nothing and no one was there. Everything was as it should be. No intruder, no leeches and no danger. He hung the robe back up on its hook and slipped back into bed.

  He gently pulled Gillian back into his arms and held her tight. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily. The nightmare had stolen his peace as easily as Gillian had stolen his heart.

  Chapter 8

  Mason stared at Detective Jon Hall and the forensics expert.

  “Nothing?”

  “Sorry, Mason, but the box, paper and bow are clean. The only prints we picked up are yours and Gillian’s,” Jon said before he turned to the other man. “Thanks for rushing this, Pete. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, Jon.” Pete, the forensics expert, ground out his cigarette and stood up. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  With a sense of hopelessness, Mason watched Pete leave. Finding a print was his only chance to identify the culprit and to put an end to the threats before they became actions. “Well, Jon, what do you suggest?” He was fresh out of ideas and had no problem with seeking advice from someone with more experience in these matters. He had met Jon a couple years back while presiding over a case. Not only had they respected each other’s work, but a friendship had developed between them. Jon was a cop Mason trusted, but more important, he wasn’t a member of the society. The Council would never hear about the threats made to Gillian. He had dropped the box off to Jon on his way to work. Now, on his way home, he had stopped to hear the results. They weren’t what he had been hoping for.

  “There’s nothing much you can do legally without knowing who’s making the threats. You said Gillian has a list of all the men she tracked who’ve had child support withheld from their wages?”

  “Yes, and she has already eliminated two of the men.”

  “If you can get me a copy of the list I could run it through our records. Maybe I can come up with something.”

  “Gillian’s already done that.” Mason gave Jon an amused glance. “Don’t ask how she tapped into the police files. You don’t want to know.”

  Jon chuckled. “No one can say you married a boring woman.” He gave Mason a light slap on the back. “You’re a better man than I am.”

  Mason refused to smile at Jon’s comments regarding his wife. Gillian and the word boring didn’t belong in the same sentence. “What else do you suggest?”

  “I had the box examined, but there’s nothing special about it or the wrapping paper. Anyone could have purchased it in about a thousand different stores.”

  Mason glanced at the box sitting on Jon’s desk. Thankfully Jon had disposed of the leeches that had been inside. After the nightmare he had had last night he didn’t think he could stomach seeing the creatures again. Jon was a good friend and an excellent police detective.

  “I do have one other suggestion, but you might not want to use it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Tabitha Tateman.” Jon appeared to be studying a dried coffee ring on his blotter as if his life depended upon it.

  “She’s Gillian’s closest friend.”

  Mason knew how much that suggestion had cost Jon. Mason knew the two of them had worked together on a rape case some time ago but he didn’t know the whole story. All he knew was that the rapist had been killed by Jon in a shoot-out, and neither of them had ever spoken of it again.

  It wasn’t as if the idea of asking Tabitha for help hadn’t crossed his mind. It had, and just as fast as he’d thought of it, he’d discounted it. Gillian would never even consent to approaching Tabitha with such a simple request as doing a reading on the letters or the box. He couldn’t blame her. Tabitha deserved her peace.

  “I can’t do that, Jon.”

  “Good.” Jon gave him a ghost of a smile. “I felt it was my duty to point out all your options, no matter if I agree with them or not.”

  “I know. That’s why I came to you.” Mason gave a weary sigh and stood up. “I guess that means I’m back to square one.”

  “If you get me a copy of Gillian’s list I’ll see what I can dig up. I might have a couple tricks up my sleeve that your wife doesn’t know about.” Jon carefully picked up the box, tissue paper, wrapping paper and bow and placed them in a clear plastic bag and sealed it. “I’ll keep this here in case we need it later.”

  “Fine. I’ll fax you the list tonight.” Mason reached across the desk and shook Jon’s hand. “Thanks for everything, Jon. And I’d appreciate this not being leaked to the press.”

  “I understand.” Jon stood up. “You keep a close eye on your wife until this guy is caught.”

  Mason met Jon’s gaze. “I will.”

  Mason pulled his car into the garage thirty minutes later and glanced at Gillian’s car parked outside. He still hadn’t figured out why his wife refused to park her car in the garage. She definitely needed a newer mode of transportation, but he couldn’t see buying her one until she changed careers. A new car didn’t stand a chance being parked in The Blades.

  Maybe a new car would entice Gillian to change careers, but he doubted it. His wife didn’t seem impressed with material possessions or expensive th
ings. This morning he had spotted a bright yellow coffee mug with a smiley face in the kitchen cabinet with the rest of his dishes. His dishes. Gillian had to go out of her way to locate that mug from the pile of boxes stored above the garage. It symbolized something more than what it was. It was something of hers. Something she could look at and think, mine.

  He closed the garage door and looked at his house as if for the first time. It was his house, his dishes, his furniture. What he had thought to be so simple wasn’t. Gillian wasn’t just going to hang her clothes in the closet, fill the empty bureau with a kaleidoscope of silky panties, hang her toothbrush next to his and call it home. Maybe instead of. everything being his or hers, he should concentrate on making everything theirs.

  For better or worse, she was in his life and in his bed. For the first time in his life he hadn’t wanted to leave his bed that morning and go to work. He would have given anything to pull his bride back into his arms and make sweet love to her for the next week or so. Now was a hell of a time to appreciate what the honeymoon was designed for. His two-week vacation wasn’t scheduled until late December, five months away.

  Mason opened the kitchen door and immediately wanted to close it again. The entire kitchen appeared to be trashed. He slowly set his briefcase by the door and glanced around the room in amazement. Bowls, pots and nearly every spice known to man were scattered across the counter. A cookbook was propped open with a butcher knife and flour coated every available surface. It appeared his wife was cooking. Lord save him if her cooking reflected her method. He took a hesitant step closer and sniffed. He could detect the aroma of cherry pie, possibly meat loaf and a wet dog. A wet dog! He sniffed again. Definitely a wet dog.

  The faint sound of Gillian’s laughter reached him. He followed that sound to the laundry room tucked off the kitchen and slowly opened its door. If he thought the sight of the kitchen shocked him, he had been wrong. This was shock.

  Gillian heard the door open and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re home.” She tightened her grip on the wiggling bundle of towels in her arms and whispered, “Behave.”