Maybe so. Jake shot her a sidelong glance. If that were the case, maybe Kat McBride wasn’t the best choice for a bride after all. Maybe she wouldn’t be good for the children. Or the children good for her.
It was a sobering realization, one that Jake needed to seriously consider.
Dammit, though, he wanted her. She’d be good for him. He liked her spark, her sass. God knows, he liked her body.
But he needed to put the children first. He owed it to them. He owed it to his sister.
He drew back his foot and gave a dandelion a swift kick. Yet he owed something to himself, too, didn’t he? If he had to get married, it should be to a woman who appealed to him.
He needed to understand why Kat McBride acted the way she did. Maybe this problem with children was something he could fix. That would be good for everyone, wouldn’t it? Maybe he wouldn’t have to give up on the idea of taking her to wife.
Kat interrupted his reverie by snapping her fingers. “Shoot. I got distracted, and I didn’t speak with Emma about our grandmother. I have news she needs to hear.”
“Not troubling news, I hope.”
“Not to me. Emma won’t like it. She doesn’t approve of our grandmother’s thirst for adventure or her attitude toward love and marriage.”
Now that was an intriguing thought. From what Jake knew of Monique Day, her attitudes leaned toward the liberal. Did Kat’s comment mean she shared her grandmother’s viewpoints? Maybe. She’d tangled with ol’ Rory Callahan, hadn’t she?
Hmm…maybe he could have his cake and eat it, too, as the saying went. He could marry a woman for the children, but take Kat McBride along for himself. A woman had accompanied him on an expedition once before, and he’d thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Of course, that particular expedition had been to an excavation in Greece where they’d slept in a hotel every night. Not quite what they’d find in Tibet. Still…“Do you like mountains?”
“Mountains?”
“Real ones. Not the little hills they have in West Texas.”
“Like the Rockies?”
His mouth quirked. “Exactly.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care for heights.”
Damn. She sounded certain. Looked like dessert wasn’t on the menu. And yet, Jake tried. “Come now, Kat. You don’t ever feel the itch to climb to the top of the world?”
“I itch to be home. It was a mistake to come on this trip.”
“Now, why do you say that? I’m trying to be such a good host. Didn’t I let you throw a couple of balls by me?”
“Oh, please. You were a bloodied nose away from striking out swinging.”
They argued the point a few more minutes until movement at the top of the steps of the west wing caught their attention. MacRae held Emma’s arm as they descended the stone steps, then disappeared behind a hedge.
“That’s a maze, isn’t it?” Kat asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s private?”
“Very much so.”
“Great. Wonderful. My sister saunters into an English hedge maze on the arm of a handsome stranger. Maybe I was wrong, and she will approve of Monique’s news. Emma’s changed.”
“Sometimes change can be good,” Jake observed.
Kat responded with a disdainful “Hmm.”
Always a man to seize an opportunity, Jake nodded toward the maze. “Now you’ve made me curious. Let’s go ask her, shall we?”
Kat hesitated. “I’ll find my sister on my own.”
Jake arched a brow. “Do you have a good sense of direction? The maze covers almost two acres. Visitors have been known to get lost inside for hours.”
“That’s not true,” Kat scoffed.
No, it wasn’t, but sometimes the truth was overrated. “I know the maze and Dair MacRae. I know where to find Emma.”
Sighing heavily, she said, “Lead the way, Magellan.”
Jake took her arm, leaned toward her to catch a whiff of her spicy scent, then escorted her toward the maze.
Surrounded by roses and honeysuckle and rectangular in shape, the Chatham Park maze had been fashioned from boxwood and yew. Inside, a visitor could find statuary and fountains, iron benches and clay pots overflowing with flowers and ferns. At the center of the northern section of the maze stood a miniature Greek temple. The southern section center boasted an elegant structure of eight connected marble arches called The Exedra, a place for quiet contemplation. At the heart of the whole maze stood a simple wooden gazebo furnished with cushioned benches, lounge chairs and shelves filled with novels, biographies and poetry. Jake considered it one of the prime locations for seduction on the estate.
Kat grumbled but went along with him. They were halfway to the maze when a flash of pink darted in front of them. Caroline planted herself in Kat’s path, smiled big, then lifted her arms for a hug. Kat shot Jake a half-wild glance, then bent down and gave the girl an awkward hug. Caroline kissed Kat’s cheek, then wiggled away, dashing back toward the croquet field.
“What was that for?” Kat asked.
“I don’t know. Just because, I guess. Caroline has taken quite a shine to you. It’s nice to see. A relief. You’re the first woman she’s taken to since the accident.”
“Why me?” Kat asked, her lips dipping at the corners.
Jake shrugged. “Maybe she senses a kindred spirit. Whatever the reason, it reassures me to see her reaching out toward a female. She needs a mother figure in her life.”
“Not me. Absolutely not me.”
“They all need a mother figure.”
“Not me,” Kat repeated. “They may need someone, but that someone’s not me.”
“Tell me why, Katrina.” Jake led her into the maze, turning left, to the south, since he knew Dair liked the maze’s temple in the northern section. When Kat didn’t respond to his request, he pressed, “Tell me about your daughter.”
She jerked away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. “How do you know…?”
“I wouldn’t ask someone to be my wife without learning something about them.”
“You spied on me?”
“I don’t think spying is the right word. That’s what the girls do when they skitter around the hidden passages at Chatham Park, then report to me that you were in the chapel or the armor room or the like.”
“Hidden passages,” she murmured. “I knew it.”
“What I did is more of an investigation.”
“That’s offensive, Mr. Kimball.”
“Say ‘that’s offensive, Jake.’ Use my name. I think we’ve progressed that far, don’t you? Now, I’d like to know you better, to understand why you’re not comfortable around the children. I suspect it has something to do with your daughter. Share her with me, Kat. She was Rory Callahan’s child?”
“Suzanne Elizabeth.” Kat’s voice cracked. “Susie.”
“Tell me about Susie.”
Kat increased her pace, walking blindly. Jake let her go. They reached a dead end, and when she turned, Jake noticed sunlight glinting off the tears in her eyes. “Was she blond like you?”
Kat nodded. “I don’t talk about her. None of us do. At first, I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. The pain…” She put one hand over her heart, her fist clenched, as her voice trailed off. Jake linked her free hand with his. “My family was careful of my feelings, and that’s what we grew accustomed to. Only Monique ever mentions her.”
Jake took her hand and led her back along the proper path heading toward the privacy of the gazebo at the center of the maze. Thinking of his relationship with his father after his brother’s disappearance, he observed, “It’s difficult to know how to respond to a family member’s grief.”
“I know. I’m not complaining. My family was a godsend. Without them, I don’t know that I would have survived.”
Silently Jake pointed out a pair of bushy-tailed rabbits feeding on the grass in front of them. Kat sighed, then said, “Susie wanted a pet bunny. Of course, she wanted a pet dog, cat, fish
, snake, lizard, buffalo and frog, too. She loved animals.”
A snake? A buffalo? “Apparently all kinds.”
Kat McBride’s smile was a gift. “She’d spend hours chasing horned toads in my father’s backyard. Every so often, she’d catch one, and then her shrill little squeals would bring everyone in the house running. She never knew whether to be excited or scared.”
“I’d vote for scared. Horned toads are wicked-looking animals” When that elicited a little chuckle, encouraged, Jake pressed on. “I’ll bet she was a smart little girl.”
“Oh, she was.” Kat’s voice grew animated, and light sparked in her eyes. “She learned her ABCs almost as soon as she learned to talk, and she’d even begun to read. Emma is a teacher, you know, and she said Susie was one of the brightest children she’d ever seen.”
It was like lancing an infected wound. Kat started talking about her daughter, and she didn’t stop. Jake encouraged her with questions as he guided her toward the gazebo. He sincerely liked listening to her tales. Once, during a story about the baby’s birth, he’d come close to commenting about the moment from his perspective, and he’d literally bitten his tongue to keep from giving himself away. She was a fountain, flowing and frothing and bubbling with delight. At times almost frenetic.
Then, abruptly, she went silent and still. Her complexion grew waxen. She swayed and Jake anticipated the buckling of her knees. He caught her before she dropped to the ground.
The tears came on like a flood, hard and fast and ferocious. She wept from her heart, from her soul, her grief controlling her, consuming her. It was a force unlike any Jake had ever seen. He felt helpless, awkward and unsure as he carried her into the gazebo and laid her gently on a chaise. She rolled onto her side away from him, her sobbing unabated. Jake reached out and patted her shoulder.
Ordinarily he was good with women. He was a champion charmer, a superior seducer. He instinctively knew what to say and do in order to achieve his goals where the fairer sex was concerned. However, he was lousy at offering comfort. Just yesterday Theresa had fallen, skinned her knee and burst into tears. He hadn’t known what to do for her, either.
“Oh,” Kat moaned into the chaise’s tufted pillow. Unbelievably, the intensity of her weeping increased.
My God, could a person hurt herself from crying? Tear an organ out of place or something? Jake patted her shoulder again. “Calm down, honey. Don’t cry so hard. You’re scaring me.”
Kat continued to sob.
Jake muttered a curse, then sat beside her. He shifted her weight, lifting her into his arms and onto his lap. “It’s all right, Katrina,” he murmured, rocking gently back and forth. “Everything is all right. You’re all right. Hush, now.”
He kissed her head. “Calm down.” He kissed her temple. “You’ve got to calm down.” He kissed her cheek. “Find your peace, Katrina.”
This time when he bent his mouth toward her, she turned her head, and her mouth sought his, found his.
Kat McBride kissed Jake as though her life depended on it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. She moaned against his mouth, and Jake was lost.
This he knew how to do.
“Jake?” She went still in his arms.
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “I can help you, Katrina. Just let me.” Anticipation roughened his voice, making it low. For a brief moment he feared she’d bolt. Nibbling at the corner of her mouth, he waited, his heartbeat drumming a beat within his chest.
Her eyes met his. In the gazebo’s shadowed light, the deep emeralds shone nearly black. Such sad eyes, he thought. Beautiful, yet so heartbreakingly sad. He longed to see them alight with pleasure. With emotion. With desire.
Using great care, Jake ran the tip of his tongue along her bottom hp. He meant to go slow, truly he did. But the sound she made, the sweet sigh of surrender created a temptation too great to deny.
Reaching up, he gently speared his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back, opening her mouth so that he could take it again. His tongue slid into her mouth deeply, repeatedly. With whispered words of encouragement, he coaxed her, gentled her to his touch. Jake wanted to dull her pain, if only for a brief moment in time.
He stroked her hair, her cheek, reveling in the way she responded, the way she made him feel. The depth of his own desire surprised Jake. An inexplicable allure to have her, possessed his every sense, every emotion. Kat McBride called to him like an ancient siren, and he was powerless to resist.
Yet the siren’s song lamented the loss—a loss like no other, and one a man couldn’t begin to understand. This mother’s arms held only memories, and he could not, would not, take advantage of Kat’s weak moment for his own need.
Well, maybe just a little.
Sliding a hand to her bodice, Jake deftly undid her buttons until his fingertips found warm skin. With an impatience he could barely rein in, he pulled and tugged until she was bare before him. Glorious, he thought, as he traced the swell of one breast, careful to resist the crowning bud at the tip. She should be painted naked on a canvas, wrapped in scarves and roses.
But for my eyes alone.
Swallowing the surprisingly selfish idea, he drank in her body’s perfection. Flawlessly shaped. Soft and round with dark pink nipples begging for his attention.
When Kat murmured and sighed with pleasure, Jake smiled against her lips and teased the other breast in the same sensuous manner until she kissed him with a fervor that tempted him to abandon the idea of gallantry. His whole body tightened as he lowered his head for a taste.
Immediately her back arched. A deep, primal moan escaped her lips as her fingers squeezed his shoulders.
Pleased, his tongue captured the peak of her breast and laved it until she cried out. Then he switched to worship the other, basking in her mindless cries.
The sounds stirred Jake’s blood to a boil. His whole body tightened as he drew her more heavily into his mouth. The caress changed from gentle, sweet contact to an intense, demanding passion that Jake longed to explore like no other territory.
His hand found her hip, easing her skirts up. He wanted to learn her secrets, needed to know her in the most intimate way. This was dangerous, Jake knew. Probably even stupid. But when his fingers discovered her downy cleft wet, warm and waiting…
His own growl blended with hers, and prudence flew away on the cool afternoon breeze.
While he continued to suckle her, Jake’s fingers parted the lush petals and stroked the hidden bud with a slow rhythm that sang through his veins. The taste and scent and feel of her sank into him like unrelenting talons. His own breath came hard, as though he were running close to the edge of reason.
Probing insistently, he felt her body giving way, yielding to his magic. Following her signals, he slipped one finger inside her, then raised his head to meet her stare.
Kat’s hot emerald gaze consumed him. Her eyes were fevered, burning. Glistening with something he couldn’t deny. Something he put there.
A wave of satisfaction nearly drowned Jake. He’d done it. He’d made her burn. And like a moth to that elusive flame, he hungered to lose himself in her luster.
Falling into her gaze, Jake tenderly caressed her softness again and watched the passionate emotions play across her face. One word, one simple word passed her swollen lips.
“Please.” Her eyes closed, her head titled back.
It was all the encouragement he needed. Pleasure swept through him, hard and determined. He increased the pressure of his hand, sliding yet another finger into her. He stroked, pressed, circled and tugged until she writhed upon his lap.
“Say my name, Kat.”
She twisted desperately, moaning in an incoherent chant.
“My name,” he repeated, this time a demand.
“Jake. Oh, Jake.”
Using the pad of his thumb, he quickly brought her to the crest and watched her tumble over.
Her breath broke on a cry of completion as she
convulsed, spilling warmth from her body into his hand. Her scent swirled around him like a warm, earthy caress.
He watched her enjoy the swells her body rode until the storm within her subsided. He delighted in such natural abandon. He longed to make it happen again.
Then he saw the fresh tears.
“Kat?”
Slowly she smiled.
For a moment he went completely still. Then he bent and kissed her eyelids tenderly, stealing her tears with the tip of his tongue. “Don’t cry anymore, sweetheart.”
For the first time in Jake’s life, he found himself more concerned with a woman’s pleasure than his own. He found himself wanting to hold her, protect her, to banish her sorrow.
With an unknown strength, he removed his hand from her inviting heat and simply held her in his arms. When she sighed with contentment, pressed a sleepy kiss to his throat and curled herself into his embrace, Jake’s own lips lifted in a wry grin. When she woke, he predicted there’d be hell to pay. Rubbing his chin against her silky hair, he kissed her temple and leaned back into the cushions. Until then, he’d simply enjoy having her in his arms.
It was a memory he’d savor.
KAT DRIFTED awake slowly, warm and comfortable and relaxed. The masculine scent of sandalwood lingered from ha dreams, and she smiled, luxuriating in the pleasure of one of her favorite scents. Then, abruptly, memory returned. Her eyes flew. Oh, no. What have I done?
She lay sprawled in Jake Kimball’s arms, her skirt hiked above her knees, her bodice loose and gaping, her breasts exposed. Humiliation and embarrassment washed over her as she clutched her dress to her chest and scrambled off the lounge chair. She felt the warmth of a blush stain her cheeks. “Oh, dear. I…um…oh.”
She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare. She kept her back to him as she struggled to right her clothing.
She could hear the chuckle in his voice as he asked, “Have a nice nap?”
“Oh, Mr. Kimball. I can’t believe…I didn’t mean…oh, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Hey, now, no sense being embarrassed. You obviously needed a good cry. And again I think we are far beyond the ‘Mr. Kimball’ stage, don’t you?”
Her Scoundrel, Bad Luck Wedding #7 (Bad Luck Brides trilogy book two) Page 14