Brant's Return

by Mia Sheridan

  I blew out a breath. “Let me ask my lawyer about it. He’ll know the best course of action. Hey”—I turned toward her more fully—“we’ll figure this out together, okay? You are not alone, Belle. Not anymore.” The relief that flitted over her expression caused my heart to squeeze. She was strong, but how often had she felt alone with her struggles? How often had she needed to lean on someone and no one was there?

  For a moment she simply stared at me, so many emotions passing over her face, and so quickly, that I couldn’t define them all.

  “I don’t ever want you to be alone again, Belle.” I pulled her to me, crushing her to my chest. Protectiveness rose inside me, even more fiercely than it had that night in the distillery when she’d told me of her heart-wrenching tragedy.

  Thinking of that night made me remember the small item I’d brought for her from New York, still sitting in my overnight bag. I released my clasp on her and got up, plucking the small box from my bag and returning to bed. She looked at me in confusion as I handed it to her, and I suddenly felt uncertain, nervous about how she’d react. I pushed a hand through my hair. “I, ah, saw this in the window of a vintage jewelry store near my office. It . . . reminded me of you.”

  She tipped her head, her eyes moving over my face before she looked down, lifting the lid off the box and staring at the piece of jewelry inside. For a moment she didn’t speak and my heart began to pound as I second-guessed the gift. “It’s nothing expensive. And I know it looks old. It is, actually. Old. Vintage. The woman at the store wasn’t sure where it—”

  “The purple orchid of Caspian Skye,” she whispered. Her eyes rose and they were shimmering with tears. As she looked back down, she used her index finger to run over the chipped petals of the antique metal pin I’d spotted as I’d left my office three days before. My heart began to slow. “I don’t expect you to wear it, I know it’s pretty big. I just wanted you to have it.”

  “It’s priceless. Thank you.” She set the box on the bedside table as she brought her mouth to mine, and there was something new and different in her kiss. What did it mean?

  For a time, all the words and worries, the questions and plans, drifted away as we lost ourselves in each other once again and the next time we woke, dawn had arrived. Isabelle stirred next to me, her body silky and warm beside my own. She tilted her head back, her eyes soft and still full of sleep as she used her thumb to trace my lips. “Yes, Brant, I’ll be yours,” she whispered.

  **********

  That Monday morning, I’d returned to New York to take care of business regarding my bar opening. Isabelle had used the week I was gone to break the news to my father and May that she’d be returning to New York with me for a few weeks. She’d also hired a home health nurse to monitor my father for the short time she’d be away. She’d told me on the phone he’d seemed pleased about her requested time off and grumbled about the home health nurse, but she’d put her foot down on that front and he’d acquiesced.

  A thoroughbred that had been trained at Graystone Hill had won a big race at Kentucky Downs the weekend before—while Isabelle and I had been completely wrapped up in each other, ignoring the rest of the outside world—and May insisted on throwing a celebratory gathering, inviting not only the staff of Graystone Hill, but family and close friends of those who worked there as well.

  I wondered if, for May, the party was also an acknowledgment of the fact that Isabelle was spreading her wings, taking a chance, and that that, too, was worthy of a celebration. Hell, maybe in the wake of my father’s diagnosis, any reason for a celebratory gathering was a good one.

  I’d only arrived back that morning and May had laughingly told me to stay out of the way while she got the house set up for the guests that would be arriving soon. During our time apart, I’d been so hungry for Isabelle, my desire felt as if it was bordering on obsession. And even though it was mid-morning and the house was already loud with people walking in and out, I’d been tempted to pull her inside a linen closet just to taste her for a brief moment. Just to pull her against me and inhale her scent, to know that she’d ached for me as I’d ached for her. I’d died a slow death alone in my own bed in New York, my body hot and throbbing, desperate for her.

  My father, whose coloring was better since his treatment, seemed not only pleased by the turn of events, but comforted, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. I hadn’t been all that surprised that she’d turned down my rash marriage proposal, but she’d said yes to us, to being together, and perhaps sometime soon, I’d ask for her hand again and she’d say yes. He wouldn’t have to worry about Isabelle anymore. He’d handed that task to me and I’d gladly taken it after all. How full of surprises life could be. Harrison Talbot and I on the same team so to speak. Did wonders never cease?

  It was a brisk autumn day and May had set the party up inside the house, clearing the furniture in the living room off to the sides so people could mingle. Music was playing from an old record player in the corner. I recognized it. It was my father’s; he used to play jazz music on it when I was a kid and dance in the kitchen with my mother. That caused a brief pang of painful nostalgia, but I was too damned happy to be back with Isabelle to let anything dampen my mood. Food and drinks were laid out on the dining room table, and the farm employees, their families and a few friends, my father, May, Belle’s friend Paige, and Detective Miller—chatted and mingled.

  As Belle talked with Gus and his wife, Edna, I excused myself to get us both a drink in the kitchen. As I was scooping ice into a glass, Paige entered the room, smiling and placing her empty glass on the table.

  “Ice?” I asked, holding the silver ice scoop over her glass.

  “Please.”

  The ice tinkled softly as it hit the crystal tumbler. “I’m so glad you could be here, Paige. I know it means a lot to Belle.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. I know how much Belle’s work with those horses means to her.” She gave me a small smile and a tilt of her head. “I’m not surprised about the success of the horses trained here.” She paused. “Although I have to say, I was shocked when she called to tell me she was dating someone and planning a trip to New York. I had no idea.”

  I poured soda into Belle’s glass and bourbon into my own, smiling. “To tell you the truth, Belle and I only went on one official date. What can I get you?” I gestured my hand to the bottles of water, soda, and various bottles of alcohol in front of me.

  “Bourbon, please.” She raised her brows. “Belle said it was a whirlwind.”

  A whirlwind. “I guess that’s a good way to put it.” I poured her bourbon and held it out to her. She took it, and our fingers brushed right before she pulled the glass from me, taking a quick sip.

  “Ah, wow, that’s good. Belle said you own a few bars and nightclubs in New York.”

  I took a sip of my own drink, the heat of the alcohol sliding down my throat. “I do, yes.”

  “You must be very successful.”

  “I enjoy what I do.”

  “And modest too.” Her voice lowered slightly. “Handsome . . .” Her eyes did a quick perusal of my body. “No wonder Belle was swept off her feet.”

  I paused, hearing the disapproval in her tone despite her words. Was she suspicious of me because of the speed of Belle’s and my relationship? I supposed I couldn’t exactly blame her. Especially after what Belle had endured. She must be protective of her friend. And not only that, but Belle had told me what was going on in Paige’s marriage. She was probably especially suspicious of all men right now. “I intend to treat her as she deserves to be treated.”

  Her eyes lingered on mine for a second before her lips tilted up, but there wasn’t much warmth in her smile. I guess I’d have to show her I meant what I said. “Good. She’s important to me.” She smiled slightly. “The sister I never had. She deserves so much.”

  “I know. Believe me, I do.”

  “Well, there you are, Brant,” May said, bustling into the room. “I turned up the m
usic a little if you want to ask that pretty girl of yours to dance.” She winked.

  I grinned at May. “Absolutely.” I looked at Paige. “Nice chatting with you, Paige. I meant what I said.” I picked up the two drinks.

  She gave me another tilt of her lips and this time her smile seemed to reach her eyes. She nodded and I turned, bending toward May. “Thank you for inviting all the people you did, May. I know it means a lot to Isabelle to be surrounded by all her friends.” I kissed her on her cheek.

  “We all love her,” May said, the emotion clear in her voice.

  I gave her a smile before I left the kitchen, walking down the hall toward the low sound of voices and laughter. Eli was exiting the room as I was about to enter and he stopped short, the look on his face gloomy. When he caught sight of me, he schooled his expression. “Brant.”

  “Eli.” I almost felt bad for the guy. He’d clearly had a crush on Belle, hell, he probably still did, and now he had to watch her with someone else. Someone who hadn’t even been in the picture six weeks before. Yeah, I could sympathize, but I wasn’t in the least bit sorry about it.

  “I’m ah”—he put his hands in his pockets and then removed them—“gonna get back to the stable. One of the mares is likely going to foal tonight.”

  “Congratulations on the win, Eli. You do great work here. I mean that.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Brant. I mean that too.”

  He moved past me, shooting a quick glance backward at the room where Belle was.

  When I entered the room, I spotted her on her tiptoes as she hugged Detective Miller. A clench of unease tightened my muscles, but I forced myself to relax. I knew his role in Belle’s life now. The detective lifted his eyes from over Belle’s shoulder, his gaze meeting mine, and I swore I caught a flash of anger before he stepped away from Belle, his face moving into a smile.

  I approached them and Belle looked at me, her smile faltering at whatever she saw in my expression. “Brant, Hank is just leaving. He has to go into work.”

  “Ah. Duty calls. Thanks for coming, Hank.” I handed Belle her drink and held out my now empty hand and he took it, squeezing tightly, his gaze homed in on mine.

  “Brant.” He let go of my hand, glancing at Belle, his expression softening. “Take care of her.”

  “That’s what I plan to do.”

  His gaze lingered on mine for another beat before he nodded, a quick movement of chin to chest. “Good.” He looked at Belle. “Call me if you need anything.” And with that, the detective turned, making his way through the small group of people and out of the room.

  I turned back to my Belle, clinking my glass with hers. “To the most beautiful woman in the room.” She smiled sweetly just as the first chords of “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” began playing. I took Belle’s drink from her and placed both our glasses on a nearby table and then led her toward the open space in front of the record player. Taking her in my arms, I turned her and she laughed, bringing her arms around my neck. The slightly scratchy rendition of Louis Armstrong’s classic played and I pulled her flush, breathing her in, my blood heating as it always did when this woman was close.

  It seemed the room quieted as we danced, the voices fading around us, my heart beating in time with Isabelle’s, the words of the love song filling my head and drowning out everything except the feel of her in my arms.

  As the song ended, I opened my eyes over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of my father before he turned away. The look on his face had been filled with . . . pride, and I swore I saw tears in his eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Isabelle

  I stared out the window of Brant’s room, giddiness swirling in my stomach. He was back and we’d had an amazing day. I’d pretended to go to bed and then snuck downstairs. I already knew—cringingly—the fact that we’d slept together wasn’t a secret from Harry, but I still felt a sense of propriety as far as what we made a show of doing under his roof. The way I’d been raised insisted on it, but it was also simply a matter of respect. Things would be different in New York, and though I was nervous about the trip, there would be benefits we’d enjoy there that we couldn’t here.

  His reflection appeared in the glass in front of me and I watched him approach from behind, my skin prickling with anticipation of his touch. His hands slid up my bare arms and I shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked, his gravelly voice just above my ear, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin.

  I looked to the side, casting my eyes downward. “No.”

  He turned me to face him, his gaze raking down my silk-clad body, my nipples puckering under his hot perusal. “Christ, Isabelle, you look like a dream.”

  Pleasure flooded me. I’d bought the negligee on a whim when I’d seen it in a boutique in town. I’d never owned anything like it. It was sexy and clingy, the black silk draping over my skin like a caress, the edges trimmed in a delicate lace. My breath had caught when I saw it, my heart slamming in my chest as I’d felt it between my fingers, imagined Brant looking at me exactly the way he was looking at me now. I’d bought it and kept it in a box under my bed, not sure I’d have the courage to put it on once he returned. Again, it was my upbringing I supposed that made me feel so . . . brazen in this risqué piece of lingerie, worn to entice. How wicked they’d all say I was. Dancing with the devil again, Isabelle? Wearing jewelry and clothing designed to elicit lust in a man? I’d already been naked in front of Brant, yet somehow I felt bare in an entirely different way.

  Brant’s eyes moved over my features, his gaze softening as if he could read my thoughts, as if he knew the vulnerability in my heart and somehow understood it. He hooked a finger under the fragile wisp of a strap and pulled it down slowly, removing his finger and watching as it fell from my shoulder. When he looked back at me, the raw longing in his eyes was so intense, my breath hitched right before he leaned in and kissed my shoulder, biting it softly then laving his tongue over the spot, soothing it.

  “I burn for you, Isabelle.” The intensity of his statement shot a bolt of lust tingling through my body. I burn for you, too. My body. My heart. “There’s never any shame in the things we do together.”

  I brought my eyes to him, nodding. And suddenly I felt no shame, no wickedness, no reluctance. He was looking at me as if I was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more, and I felt beautiful under his gaze. I stood tall, allowing him to look his fill. “I’ve missed your hands on me,” I admitted. “Every night. I’ve been sleepless with wanting you.”

  He let out a sound that was half breath, half growl, reaching around me and pulling the curtain closed, his eyes never straying from me. Anticipation darted through my system, the knowledge that what we were about to do was between us and us alone. I felt Brant’s finger at my other shoulder, and then the second strap was falling, causing the negligee to slide down my body, pooling at my feet. A smile tugged at my mouth. Three hundred and fifty dollars well spent. I stepped out of the pooled fabric, beginning to kick off the short heels I’d worn with my party dress and put back on after I’d donned the negligee, but Brant halted me with his words, “Keep them on.”

  I looked at him questioningly, tilting my head when I saw the way he was holding his jaw. A small smile played at my lips. That was his I’m barely holding on look and oh how it aroused me, tightening my nipples and causing a surge of wetness between my thighs. I stood before him, naked except for my heels. He was fully dressed, his tie loosened around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. Mine. That feeling, a silent orchestra rising inside me, overcame me and the joy was so profound that tears burned the backs of my eyes. I was his and he was mine and the rightness of it soared inside me. I felt it, standing there, bare and unabashed. I’d stood in the so-called presence of God once before and declared my devotion to another man, and yet, I hadn’t felt God’s presence at all. Now, though I wore no ring . . . I felt the reverence of this moment.

  Brant took my hand and brought it to the bulge at the front of
his pants. “I was sleepless with wanting you too, Belle. Do you know what I did, all those long, lonely nights?”

  “What?” I asked, moving my hand, caressing his hardness through the material of his pants. My voice sounded faraway, laced with the lust I felt coursing through my veins.

  Brant let out a low masculine hum of pleasure and loosened his tie a little more, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the floor. He undid the buttons of his shirt slowly and my eyes watched each movement of his strong yet elegant fingers until his shirt came undone and he pulled it off his broad shoulders, throwing it behind him.

  Underneath he wore a white undershirt, and I felt a jolt of frustration at another layer of clothing. Brant chuckled and quickly pulled the T-shirt up his back and over his head, revealing his beautifully sculpted chest. “What do you think I did?”

  “Wh-what?” I asked, having lost the thread of the conversation with the fog of arousal filling my brain.

  Brant chuckled again. “Those nights. What do you think I did when I wanted to feel your hands on me so badly I ached?” He unbuttoned his suit pants but didn’t remove them. My eyes grazed over his strong chest, the ridges of his stomach muscles, the long lines of his body. He was so beautifully made, lean and strong—all male—and just looking at him made my intimate inner muscles tighten, clench. “You touched yourself,” I breathed.

  He dropped his pants and kicked them aside with feet that I now saw were already bare. My gaze rose slowly up his well-shaped calves to his strong thighs and lingered on the outline of his thick shaft through the thin material of his boxers. His hand moved over his erection and he let out a masculine groan. “Yes. I touched myself and pretended it was you. It wasn’t nearly as good, but I was desperate. Do you want to watch, Belle? Do you want to watch what I did when I couldn’t have you?”

  A small whimper sounded in the space between us, and I realized it was me, my body humming with so much lust, I was practically swaying on my feet. “Yes,” I said, not even sure if I’d uttered the word aloud. Yes, yes, yes.