by Taylor Lee
“Rory McKenna? Well, well. That is quite an association. You may have moved away from Boston but stories about your father certainly have not. Tell me, Gabriel. Is there a woman left on the east coast that he hasn’t bedded?”
In the uneasy silence that settled over the table, Ana watched Gabe put down his fork, pick up his napkin, and wipe his mouth as though wiping off an unpleasant taste. He shifted slightly and settled back in his chair. His eyes were cold, hard, when he turned to Peter, but a smile caught the corner of his mouth.
“I wasn’t aware that he limited himself to the east coast.”
A spattering of nervous laughter from the men at the table greeted his response.
Ana saw Peter clench the edge of the table, his fingers white with the effort. He glared at Gabe, who was leaning back, an easy nonchalance marking his demeanor. Only the hard glint in his eyes, a python confronting a field mouse, spoke to the tension he must be feeling.
“What about you, McKenna? What do you do?” Peter asked, his voice sharp, devoid of any semblance of courtesy. “I heard you’re a U. S. Marshal.”
Gabe nodded. “I was, some time ago.”
“Your father get that position for you? It’s not easy to become a marshal. I understand it take connections and a healthy bribe under the table to get those marshal spots.”
Gabe’s cool tone held the undercurrent of a threat. “It’s easier than you might think, Peter. The best connections are the willingness and ability to shoot a man dead at forty paces or if you prefer a knife over a gun, slicing him to death.”
Peter paled then replied with a sniff. “My goodness, you have left your Boston ways behind.” Glancing at Penelope, whose expression was stony at best, Peter continued, “I don’t know, Penelope, I think your consort is more uncivilized than you might think.”
Penelope looked as stunned as everyone else at the table.
Ana was surprised when Peter refused to quit, just kept pushing.
Glaring at Gabe, he said, “What kind of work do you do now that you’re not a marshal?”
Gabe quirked a brow. “What comes my way.”
Peter didn’t hide his distain. “ Humph, I suppose living off your inheritance allows you not to work.”
Gabe glanced around the table and grinned. “Hmm, if that was true, and it is not, I would appear to be in good company.”
There were a few guffaws and Ana looked up in time to see her father nod and exchange a wink with Gabe.
Ana was intrigued by the interchange. Peter’s anger was palpable and even though she despised Gabe, Ana was glad he had put the pompous fop in his place.
At that moment Molly and several other maids entered with trays of deserts. Ana saw Molly make a beeline for Gabe. Even across the table, she could hear the husky familiarity in the hussy’s voice as she sidled up to him.
“Sir, canna I be gettin’ you any of these sweets to polish off your dinner?”
Gabe started and then frowned. “No, thank you. I have had quite enough.”
The Chinese butler, who had been with Chao’s family as long as Ana could remember, stepped between Gabe and the impudent maid. Nudging her aside, he asked in a quiet professional tone, “Perhaps more wine, sir.’
Gabe gave him an appreciative nod. “Yes, that I will definitely have more of.”
~~~
Gabe took a sip of wine and caught Ana glaring at Molly. Seeing the darts flying across the table, he grinned to himself. He didn’t know if the missiles were intended for Molly or for him. Probably, he thought, for both.
As Molly made her way around the table offering the sweets, she came to Ana. Apparently unaware of the hostility radiating from her mistress, the brash girl asked in her sugary brogue. “Will you be havin’ some of these “binyets”, miss. They are tasty.”
“Did you make them?”
Molly started at her mistress’s crisp tone. “Yes, miss, I did. I made them meself just this morning.”
Glancing at the slight redness circling Molly’s wrists, Ana asked, “With your bare hands?”
Molly looked confused then responded. “Uh, yes, miss. With me bare hands.”
Ana’s eyes flashed. “Then I don’t want any. Thank you. Leave please.”
Gabe choked on his wine, struggling to squelch his laughter. Wiping his eyes with his napkin, he smiled at Ana, but she just flushed and looked away. At that moment, Peter took the bottle of wine from the butler and offered to refill Ana’s glass. Ana shook her head and jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor with a noisy clatter. She paled, then shook her head and ran for the door.
~~
Chapter 6
Ana clung to the balcony railing, wanting to scream but afraid she might cry. For the moment she was trapped. The veranda door was the closest exit from the dining room and the quickest way to make her escape. At least now she could breathe. She would wait for the rest of them to leave the table, then sneak up to her chambers. One more minute at the dining room table would have done her in.
Just when she was beginning to regain her composure, she heard the door open. She felt him, sensed him. She grasped the railing for support then willed herself to face him. His voice shot tremors through her body.
“Do you always leave the table rudely without being excused?
She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the sensations flooding over her, stunned at the sight of him. Standing in the moonlight, he was even more beautiful than she had allowed herself to remember. She forced her voice to be strong, cool. “Do you?”
Her knees buckled when he smiled at her. “No, your aunt rather reluctantly excused me.”
He moved closer to her and his smile widened, “I see we have something in common besides a penchant for barns.” Holding up his hand to stop her protest, he added, “You appear to dislike dinner parties as much as I do.”
She gave her head a vehement shake.
“We have nothing in common!”
Holding her gaze, he dug his cigarette case out of his vest pocket and took out a cigarette. In the flare of the match she saw the gleam in his dark emerald eyes. She watched enraptured as he lit the cigarette and puffed on it. Shaking off her stupor, she snapped, “Why are you here?”
He moved closer. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore his powerful smell. The scent of sandalwood melded with the sweet pungent aroma of his Turkish cigarettes. But the smell that made her knees shake and her stomach clench was a woodsy, wild smell that was totally male.
His smile was soft, seductive. “Because I wanted to do a little more investigation, test the connection between us.”
She shook her head in disagreement and moved down the railing to put space between them. Trying to break the spell of the moment, she said, “Can I ask you a question”
He nodded.
“Please have the decency to answer.”
He shrugged and gave her an ironic grin. “Of course. Decency has always been my strong suit.”
She ignored his joke and squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the twinkle in his. “Why are you here?”
“I answered your question, Princess. But I’ll say it again. I want to see what’s beneath that prickly façade you wrap around yourself. I’ve been wondering. How far below the surface of this gorgeous woman in her outrageous red dress is that dirty little urchin I met in the barn?”
She trembled and couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “If you had any manners what-so-ever you wouldn’t mention what happened in the barn.”
He grinned. “That’s another connection we have, Princess. Neither one of us seems to care much about good manners.”
She stammered. “I…I’m not a princess.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek, smiling when she jumped back.
“Ah, but you are. We’ve established that you are not a little girl and you sure as hell aren’t a boy.” Raking his eyes over her dress, he said, “No you are indeed a woman.’’ His voice dropped, became huskier. “It’s more than that. It’s about
your spirit, your spunk. Nope, a princess. That’s what you are. A regal little tyrant that has me questioning everything I thought I knew about women. Hmm, yes. Princess. That’s what I will call you from now on.”
She felt his power, his seductive pull. She knew if she didn’t leave now she wouldn’t be able to resist him. She would be no better than Molly or any of the other countless women who succumbed to his charms.
She drew herself up as tall she could and forced herself to be strong. Tossing her head, she moved away from him and headed to the doorway. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “You won’t be calling me anything from now on because I don’t intend ever to see you again.”
He leaned back against the railing and took a drag off of his cigarette. His voice was low, with a touch of menace. “Uh uh. Princess. I’ll tell you when you can go.”
She stopped at the command in his voice and turned back as if trapped in an invisible net.
He nodded, jerking his chin to a spot in front of him.
“Here, Princess. Come here.”
Horrified at her body’s response to his insulting order, she sputtered, “Why, you arrogant bastard. You…you…”
“Come here, honey.” He reached out his hand and caught hold of hers, pulling her close to him. She struggled to move back, and then for just a moment she promised herself, she rested against his chest. She buried her face in the soft linen of his shirt and sagged against him when she smelled the wild woodsy male smell that was drawing her in like a magnet. Startled, frightened, she leapt back.
He let her go. His voice was soft, crooning.
“Settle down, Princess. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She took a deep galvanizing breath and moved far away from him backing against the pillar anchoring the balcony.
Reaching for her courage, she decided to try another tack. Her voice was cool, taunting.
“That was an interesting conversation at dinner. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by your behavior given what I learned about your father tonight.”
Gabe’s expression hardened, his eyes grew cold.
She persisted, seeking an advantage.
“So, Gabe, you are your father’s son? You decided that you would pick up where he left off?”
When he didn’t respond, just gazed at her, a warning flashed in his eyes that she chose to ignore. She lifted her chin and glared back at him.
“Did you decide to start on the west coast while he took the east coast? Did you plan to meet in the middle to compare notes?”
His eyes narrowed. For a spilt second she thought she saw pain in his eyes. His voice was soft, flat, “I have no plans to meet him. Now or ever.”
Ana was embarrassed. She could see that she hurt him. At the dinner table she sensed that the conversation about his father hit a painful chord. Intuitively, she knew her words were a low blow.
Grasping for a way to change the subject, she asked, “How do you know my father?”
“You should ask your father that.”
She was insistent. “I want to know.”
His response was guarded, non-committal. “We did some work together in the past. He asked me to come here, said he needed help with a couple of things.” He shrugged. “That’s why I am here.”
Strengthened by the distance between them she asserted herself. “I wonder what he would think if he knew what happened today in the barn.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Hmm. I thought we weren’t going to refer to ‘that’.”
“We’ are not. But I think my father would be interested.”
“Yeah, he probably would be. Although he would likely be more interested in the fact that you stood there for twenty minutes spying on me than what I did to inspire your interest.”
She felt the heat flood her cheeks and moved again toward the door. “Get out of my way. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”
He shook his head and stepped in front of her.
“Uh uh. Remember? I’ll tell you when you can leave. Until then, Princess, you are staying right here.”
She stepped back seeing that at least for the moment she couldn’t get around him.
He grinned at her. “Yeah, Princess, I think you were pretty damned intrigued by what you saw in the barn. Hell, I’m still trying to take the darts out of my chest that you threw my way anytime Molly was within ten feet of me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous of her, Princess.”
Ana reared up and shrieked. “Jealous? Of her? That…that…fat piggy…” She stopped herself when she saw that he was laughing at her. She tossed her head in distain.
“You really are a despicable man.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, we already established that, Princess.”
He began to move toward her, slowly, inexorably. She backed up, but the pillar was behind her, a solid wall. He continued to close in on her. Grabbing a deep breath, she threw a longing look over his shoulder at the doorway, but it seemed miles away. There was a seductive glint in his eyes that frightened her and sucked her in, as if she had stumbled into a powerful vortex that she couldn’t resist.
A wicked smile quirked his lips.
“I’m curious, Princess. When was the last time you were spanked?”
He smiled at the fury that flared in her eyes. Her spirit, her fearless spunkiness challenged him. And, aroused him even more. Hell, he reminded himself, he’d been aroused since he taunted her in the barn. Unfortunately for his physical well-being, the result had been an unrelenting hard-on that he wasn’t likely to lose anytime soon.
She started and her eyes widened in surprise. She lifted her chin and asked angrily. “How dare you threaten me?” When he just grinned at her, she hesitated, then added, a rosy flush staining her cheeks, “I..I’ve never been spanked.”
“Until now.”
She flushed bright red and bit her lip.
“You know, honey, that explains a lot.”
He was within a foot of her now, drawn in by a spicy exotic fragrance that had his erection begging for relief.
“Let me tell you something, Princess. You’ve needed it for a long time.”
She put up her hands to push him away, to put distance between them.
She was shaking, her voice was urgent. “Get away from me!”
He saw her fear, but could smell the enticing, irresistible odor of an aroused woman.
He shook his head.
“No, honey, I don’t think I’ll do that. In fact I’m gonna get even closer to you so that I can drink in that luscious smell of yours that is driving me crazy.”
Her eyes were wide dark pools, shining with a mix of fear and desire. He decided he’d go for the desire and work on erasing the fear.
He stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the railing then closed in on her.
His voice was soft, husky. “You need a lot of things that you haven’t been getting, Princess. A spanking is just one of them.”
He inched closer and put his hand over her pounding chest, centimeters away from the swell of her breasts. .
She whispered a soft plea. “Please, don’t. Leave me alone.”
“Uh,uh, darlin. Neither one of us wants me to do that. Did you know that your heart is beating like a little pigeon? A little bird cornered by an eagle?”
She choked, acknowledging the apt analogy.
He pulled her closer to him, gazing at her full lips. They were red, swollen from her nervous bites. He struggled against the urge to reach down and suck one than the other into his greedy mouth. Only the fear in her eyes stopped him. Pulling her even closer, he whispered, “Oh, yeah, Princess, there are a lot of things I’m going to teach you.”
He held her without moving for a moment then reached down and lifted her chin holding her gaze. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m curious, Princess. Who decided to “alter” your dress?”
She started at the question and pulled back. She hesitated for a moment then w
hispered, “I did.”
He persisted. “Who did it? Who cut the slit?”
“My…my maid. Jing.”
“Who decided how far up the opening should go?
A knowing tremor shook her slender body.
“It was… as high up as Jing would allow.”
He had encircled her now, his strong arms trapping her against him.
“Why did you do it, honey?”
She put her hands against him creating an inch of space between them.
“Because…because it was hard to walk in. I..I don’t like restrictions. It’s like I told my aunt, I don’t like being restricted.”
He chuckled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against her.
“Yeah, Princess. I noticed that.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes.
“Are you sure your aunt wasn’t right? Sure you didn’t want to show off those beautiful legs of yours? Give all those lecherous men out there a peek at those fabulous legs and ankles?”
She jumped back, trying to twist out of his grip. “No! No, that’s not true.”
He smiled and nudged the slit open with his knee, keeping her chin captured between his finger and thumb.
“I tell you what. If I’d been helping you I would have insisted Jing cut that opening a hell of a lot higher.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Stop.”
He bent down and ran his fingers along the opening in her dress.
“Yeah, let me see. Hmm, yeah. At least another six inches higher would be just about right.” Running his fingers along the slit he trailed them up her thighs perilously close to her crotch. He stopped, allowing his hand to rest against the top of her thigh. The heat of her skin burned through the satin of her dress. He nodded down at his hand, then gazed in her eyes. “Yeah, maybe up to here.”
She buried her face in his chest. Her breath was coming in short pants. Clinging to him, she whispered, “Don’t.”
He ignored her and hissed. “And those shoes, Princess. Christ, honey, those damn shoes. They’re amazing. Not that I don’t like you just the size you are, but those three extra inches are useful. They help out a lot.”