Burning Wild

by Feehan, Christine

  AFTER seventy-two hours without sleep, Jake moved wearily through the kitchen when he spotted the light on the coffeepot and the plate of food with a lid over it.

  “Damn it, Emma,” he snapped through clenched teeth, but he stalked to the long granite countertop and lifted the lid over the plate.

  It was still hot. She had no business getting out of bed, going down the stairs and cooking a meal. He employed a cook. Damned if he ever saw her cook. Emma was already running his house from her bed, and the moment he went off to attend to business, she made her way downstairs. She claimed she stayed on the sofa, or sat in the plush kitchen chairs, but mostly she lied her little ass off and did what she wanted to do. Like now, having made certain he had a hot meal waiting when he came home.

  He was used to coming home to a silent house. It was rarely silent now. She loved music and almost always had it on throughout the house. He’d become used to hearing her laughter, soft and inviting, the low murmur of her voice when she talked to Kyle. The nurse he’d hired told him she might as well not be there, because Emma wanted Kyle with her all the time.

  The house itself was different. Everything was different. He hadn’t expected that. Candles. Scents. Cookies and fresh bread. The low sound of her voice. The knowledge of her presence. Emma was everywhere when he’d thought he’d confined her to a single room. The last doctor visit had been a disaster. The doctor had warned that the pregnancy and birth might be even more difficult than first suspected and that Emma was at risk as much as the baby. She’d been adamant against terminating the pregnancy and now he lived in fear of losing her. Sometimes, if he thought about it too much, he could barely breathe.

  Most nights when he came home he went to her room and spent the evening with her and the baby. She wasn’t supposed to lift the infant, so he would place Kyle in her arms and watch her stare down at the boy’s face with that look. The one he wanted for himself. One month and she was already crazy about the boy. She always looked up at Jake with a welcoming smile, pleased to see him, but he found he wanted more—he wanted that look. The look.

  He was drawn to her room, the pull so strong he was beginning to grow alarmed over it. Not tonight. Tonight he’d eat alone in the kitchen and pull back a little until he found his balance. It was essential that he remain in control, and somehow Emma always made him feel a little out of control.

  In spite of his resolve, he found himself on the stairs, and he paused, looking at the life-sized bronzed leopard statue at the base of the atrium where plants grew, stretching toward the skylight. “I really need more willpower,” he muttered aloud to it, then carried the plate up the stairs and walked to her room, cursing every step of the way.

  A small nightlight was the only beacon, but he stepped inside the spacious room and moved unerringly to the chair. He could smell her scent. All Emma. There was a wildness to her fragrance he could never quite figure out, the outdoor air, clear and crisp after a summer rain, the faint scent of peaches mingling with an exotic spice. But it was the strange, honeyed, very elusive wild flavor he could almost taste that drove him crazy.

  Emma sat up on the bed, her eyes lighting up, a quick welcoming smile on her face that made his heart stumble.

  “You look so tired,” she greeted softly, running her fingertips over his arm. “You work too hard, Jake.”

  His belly knotted. It did that a lot around her. The sound of her voice wreaked havoc on his senses, yet there was a strange peace he found in her presence.

  He took a bite and regarded her sternly over the plate. “You aren’t supposed to be up. What am I going to have to do to keep you in bed?”

  “You worry about everyone but yourself.”

  His gut clenched hotly at that. A protest. He worried about himself first, always moving pawns around on a chessboard to suit him, directing lives—directing her life. Yet she believed his “great dad and loving provider” act. He got up at night with Kyle and brought him to her, staying in the room while she fed the boy. She thought it was because he loved his son so much. And afterward she always put the infant in his arms, expecting him to rock Kyle back to sleep. And he did, but not because he wanted to do it. Not because he enjoyed holding a baby in his arms, although sometimes he questioned whether he secretly was beginning to look forward to that time with his son. No way. He almost shook his head violently at his thoughts. He wanted Emma to see him showering Kyle with attention; that was his only reason.

  “I want you to do as your doctor says, Emma. Stay in bed. You have to think of your baby, not whether or not I have dinner. We have a cook for that.”

  Emma studied the lines in Jake’s face. He looked far more tired than usual. Something wasn’t right. “The cook goes home after four. You always work late and some of the boys get hungry so I like to have something ready on the stove. And the doctor hasn’t put me on full bed rest yet, Jake, so stop worrying so much. All I do is lounge around.”

  Jake’s strange golden eyes blazed down at her. He reached across to capture her chin and hold her facing him, his grip strong, fingers biting a little at her. “I know exactly what you do, Emma, and I wouldn’t call it lounging. Would you like to tell me why I employ a nurse and a cook, when you do all the work?”

  He was chastising her. She pushed down a smile, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate her strange sense of humor. Everyone seemed afraid of Jake with his gruff manner and hard, piercing eyes, but she found him compelling and at times even tender, taking care of those who lived on his ranch with a fierce protectiveness. Even his men. There was his crew of roughnecks that occasionally came to the house, the oil drillers that scattered to the four winds when they weren’t working and the cowboys who took care of his cattle and fields who lived on the ranch in houses or the bunk-house. They often came up to the main house to talk to Jake, and she got into the habit of making fresh bread and pastries for them.

  “I have no idea why you hired them. I told you that if I was going to take the housekeeping job and look after Kyle, I didn’t want anyone else running the house.”

  She tilted her chin at him, refusing to be intimidated by the warning glitter in his eyes. As much as she worried about him, and as much as she wanted to smooth the lines in his face, she refused to cater to his temper or his bossiness. The man didn’t know how to talk without giving an order. She often found herself wanting to please him, telling herself it was to ease the constant strain he was under, but more likely it was her terrible penchant for wounded creatures. And he was wounded, whether anyone else could see it or not. She knew he’d be horrified at her assessment of him. Jake was the most independent man she’d ever met.

  He leaned closer to her. “No one will run the house after you’ve recovered from having the baby. In the meantime, let them wait on you.”

  “I’m not staying in bed until I absolutely have to. Partial bed rest means I can get up a bit. And Kyle prefers me to the nurse.”

  “Well of course he prefers you to the old bat. She never cracks a smile, at least not around me. Not that I hired her for her ability to smile.”

  “Why did you hire her?”

  “Her credentials are impeccable.”

  “She doesn’t know a thing about babies; not really. Some people have a natural ability. She doesn’t,” Emma insisted.

  The nurse specialized in difficult pregnancies, not babies. He shrugged and set the empty plate aside. “She doesn’t approve of my lifestyle.” He shot her a sheepish grin. “I don’t think my considerable charm works on her.”

  Emma felt the first stirrings of protectiveness toward Jake. And more than a little anger toward the absent nurse. “Who is she to judge your lifestyle? What’s wrong with it?”

  Jake shrugged again. “You’re protected here, Emma, but there are a lot of people interested in my life. When they can’t find any details to talk about, they make it up.”

  She turned his matter-of-fact statement over and over in her mind. “Me.” She met his golden gaze. “They’re speculating abou
t me and who I am and why I’m here.”

  “The accident was in California four months ago. Everyone thought Shaina broke my heart. And now I’ve got the mystery woman living with me, but no one sees her. The rumor is she’s pregnant as well.”

  “And the nurse—Miss Hacker thinks the baby is yours?”

  “I haven’t said any different,” he admitted.

  “Why?”

  He looked away from her briefly, then reached over and took her hand, his thumb sliding up and down the back of her hand. “I can’t. We can’t. We have to think about protecting the baby. We need to let everyone think it’s mine.”

  “No!” Emma pulled her hand away. “It’s Andrew’s baby, the last part of him.”

  “Emma, honey, you aren’t thinking. We both know the baby is Andrew’s, but what happens if something goes wrong? I think like that, plan ahead. It’s what I do. I take apart companies and sell them piece by piece, but in order to take over in the first place, I have to look ahead and determine the things that might happen and plan for them. I’m not leaving your baby homeless or to the authorities. Be angry with me for it, but I know what’s it’s like to be raised—”

  Abruptly he snapped his mouth closed, leapt to his feet and stalked out.

  Emma sat in the dark for a long time, her heart pounding, as she faced the very real possibility that her baby might live and she might not. The doctors had discussed the possibility with her, but she’d dismissed it. Evidently Jake hadn’t, and he was already preparing to save her child, when she hadn’t even thought about what might happen. She got up, pulled on her robe and padded barefoot down the hall to the nursery. He was there, just as she knew he would be, standing guard over his son.

  “Jake.” He didn’t turn and she knew he had been aware of her coming in. “I’m sorry. You’re right about this, but I don’t want you to think I expect . . .”

  He flicked her a warning glance over his shoulder. “Go to bed, Emma. I’m not myself tonight and you’re the last person I want to fight with.”

  “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

  He swung around in that fluid, predatory way of his and swept her up into his arms, as if she were a child, cradling her close the way she’d taught him to hold Kyle. “What part of ‘bed’ don’t you understand?”

  He sounded rough and exasperated, but his hands were gentle as he carried her to her bed and pulled the sheet up to her chin. He even dropped a kiss on top of her head, just as she’d seen him do with Kyle. “Go to sleep. We have all the time in the world to figure it out.”

  God help him, he hoped it was true.

  ONE MONTH LATER

  JAKE tossed his pen onto his desk and heaved an exaggerated sigh. If there’d been someone to yell at, he would have done so, but instead there was only him, locked in the silence of his office. He’d created this wing of the house to be attached but separate. Soundproof. He found his acute hearing could be a distraction when he was trying to study the various companies he was interested in acquiring—especially lately. There were small alarms scattered through the various rooms to alert him to intruders because his office was doubly soundproofed. He always had liked silence. He’d needed silence, the peace of it. Silence was one of the few things that calmed his mind, like running free late at night in his other form.

  He sighed again and laced his fingers behind his head. Silence wasn’t working so well with him at the moment and he didn’t understand why. His home was so different now. Emma and Kyle had been here five months and already the place was transformed. There was a warmth now, and he felt peace when he sat in the nursery or when he entered Emma’s room. Now his office seemed cold and distant. The silence distracted him. He found himself listening for the low murmur of Emma’s voice and the soft little sounds his son made.

  Jake sat up straight, alarm shooting through him. His son. He never thought in those terms. Emma often referred to Kyle that way, but Jake thought of him as the infant, the baby, even the kid—not his son. What the hell was happening to him? What was she doing? Turning his life upside down. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. His life was supposed to be unaffected, maybe easier, but certainly not more difficult.

  Emma never listened to him. Well, she listened, she just didn’t do what he told her to do. She always gave him that little mysterious smile of hers and—and nothing. She simply did what she wanted. No one ever did that around him. The world was afraid of him, and rightly so. It didn’t matter how stern he got with her, or how ugly his temper got. She maintained that small smile and just did whatever she wanted. It was frustrating and arousing, and made him want to use other methods to control her little rebellions.

  He raked his hands through his hair. He liked the sound of her voice, the scent of her skin, the candles she burned, the way she always had something for him to eat. He loved the look on her face when she held Kyle and when she rubbed her hands protectively over the small mound of her stomach. He had the feeling he was a little obsessed with Emma. He kept waiting for her true nature to emerge, but she remained generous and kind and so gentle. The shadows in her eyes were slowly receding. She still had nightmares and he spent most nights in her room with her, but she didn’t burst into tears as often.

  A tingle of awareness crept down his spine and he was on his feet before he even realized what he was reacting to.

  There was no other warning, only that weird sense the other gave him, but he knew something was wrong. He sprinted through the spacious hall to the connecting door that led from the business wing to the main part of the house, his heart pounding.

  He could hear Kyle screaming, Emma’s usually calm voice raised and another woman shrieking. With a sinking heart, he recognized the other woman’s vicious voice. For one moment he was disoriented, thrown back in time to the small, helpless child he’d been. The scars on his thigh throbbed in tune to his pounding pulse.

  “Emma?” He called her name as he took the stairs two at a time, leaping, using his leopard’s agility to clear the banister when he was close to the top.

  He hit the hallway floor running, streaking fast, fear clogging his throat. Cathy Bannaconni was more than capable of harming Emma. She would immediately sense Emma’s vulnerability and go for the jugular, battering her emotionally and physically. Worse, Emma might admit that the child she was carrying was Andrew’s, and everything he planned could be lost.

  “You money-hungry, conniving little whore, you will never be mistress here. You’re nothing. An opportunist. Some little tart who lost her husband and hops in bed with my son the next day to trap him with your mongrel of a child. Give me my grandson immediately or I’ll have you thrown out on your whoring ass.”

  As Jake entered the nursery, he could see Emma, pale and defiant, her chin up, aquamarine eyes shimmering with fire, as she held Kyle to her with a protective fury. Blood surged to his cock, heated, unexpected, inappropriate. She looked glorious, a spitting wildcat protecting her cub, quite capable of biting off a hand if it came too close.

  “Don’t you touch him,” Emma said. “Jake’s down in his office and he can decide whether or not you’re going to take Kyle out of the house. No one takes him without Jake’s permission, not even you. And you don’t get to come into our home and bully our nurse or our cook, and you certainly don’t drag the baby out of his crib when he’s asleep and scare him like that. I don’t care who you are.”

  “Your nurse?” Cathy screamed. “Nothing in this house is yours and it never will be.” She stepped closer, thrusting her twisted, angry face close to Emma’s. “You can count on that. I’ll see you in hell before I ever see such a tramp attached to my family.”

  “Cathy.” Jake said her name, his voice low, rumbling with menace.

  Both women whirled to face him. Instantly the room went silent. Kyle abruptly stopped crying, as if the sound of Jake’s voice reassured him. Emma dropped her face protectively over the baby, but not before Jake saw the sudden sheen of tears. He walked to her, breathing de
ep, stilling the raging monster rising to the surface in a fury of temper, wanting to rend and tear and destroy. Very gently he rested his hands on Emma’s shoulders, deliberately dropping a kiss on top of her head.

  “Take Kyle and go to your room, Emma. Let me deal with this person.”

  “Jake!” Cathy wailed his name. “This—your mistress was so rude to me.”

  Emma shook her head. “Jake, I wasn’t.”

  “Go, honey.” He stroked a hand down the length of her hair. “You aren’t supposed to be out of bed. Take Kyle. He doesn’t need to be in here.”

  Emma didn’t look at Cathy, but caught up Kyle’s favorite blanket and walked out, her bare feet padding down the hall toward her room.

  Jake took another calming breath and let it out. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see my grandson.” Cathy’s eyes narrowed.

  “And I’ve heard the rumors; we all have. I can see that nothing’s changed. You’re still the same, Jake. Irresponsible and foolish. You’re a womanizer and you don’t seem to realize that there are women who are clever and manipulative who will trap you in any way that they can. I’m your mother—”

  “Get out.” He bit out the words, his fingers curling involuntarily, knuckles aching, bones cracking. He felt sharpened claws ripping into the palm of his hand, tearing at his own flesh. He opened his hands and flexed, holding the rapidly forming paws out away from his body where she could see the long, wicked claws protruding from his fingers as the change threatened to consume him. “Get out now.” The scent of something wild, something feral, permeated the room.

  Cathy backed away from him, stinking of fear. He could hear her heart racing, beckoning the predator. She gasped as she saw Jake’s eyes go completely golden, the orbs darkening into the focused stare of the leopard. She turned and ran, a small wail of absolute terror escaping. She pushed past the nurse who stood at the foot of the stairs and bolted out the front door.

  Jake managed to make it to the nursery door, slamming it closed, leaning against it as the change swept through him, clothes ripping at the seams, his back bending, spine stretching, bones popping. He dropped to all fours, breathing deep, trying to hold back the tidal wave of fury consuming him. Other than his first change, the leopard had only come out when he summoned him. But the animal was furious now, clawing for freedom, determined to hunt the enemy.