Tempestuous/Restless Heart

by Tami Hoag

  Trailing his mouth down Alex’s jaw to the arched column of her throat, Christian slid the straps of her dress down until they dangled against her arms. With just the tips of his fingers he stroked the satin skin of her shoulders, drawing a sigh from her. The sigh deepened to a moan as his hands slid down over the curve of her back and softened to another sigh as the zipper of her dress whispered its descent. His fingers splayed across her hips as the taffeta skirt rustled to the floor, leaving Alex naked in his arms.

  She let her head fall back as he lifted her to him, reveling in the feel of her breasts caressing his chest and the dark delta of curls that protected her femininity rubbing against his belly. He turned with her in his arms and lowered her gently to the cool cotton sheets of the big mahogany four-poster bed. She lay back against the mountain of pillows and watched as he lowered the zipper of his trousers and stepped out of them, then lowered his snug briefs and dropped them to the thick ruby carpet that stretched across the polished pine floor.

  He came to her the perfect example of the male animal—sleek, hard muscled, beautifully aroused. His gaze was on her face, reading every nuance of her desire, telegraphing the intense quality of his. His fine, silky hair spilled across his forehead. A bead of sweat trickled down the center of his chest. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he settled one knee on the mattress and slid toward Alex.

  Before he even touched her she felt him, felt that awesome power that radiated from him, and a thrill of excitement went through her.

  He leaned over her, bracing himself up on his left arm as his right hand glided up her leg. Bending down to kiss her, he caught her sighs with his mouth as he stroked the heated core of her femininity with his thumb. Alex lifted her hips off the mattress, arching into his caress, begging for deeper contact. And she whimpered in frustration when he took his touch away. But then his mouth was on her breast, and her attention focused on the exquisite sensations there—the tingling that came with each tug of his hot, wet mouth on her nipple, the sparks that shot through her as his teeth grazed her flesh. He made her forget everything when he made love to her. She forgot the past, forgot her inhibitions, forgot everything but him and the beautiful, sensuous harmony they created together.

  The music rambled on, bluesy and soulful, mingling with the sighs and moans of the dancers and the whisper of skin against sheets. The breeze blew in hot and sultry with the promise of a storm. Thunder rumbled somewhere over the mountains, but they didn’t hear it. They were too caught up in the expression of feelings that went soul-deep, too caught up in the music.

  When a Man Loves a Woman…

  Christian trailed his mouth down Alex’s belly, tasting her skin. His tongue dipped into her navel, skimmed lower, stroked languidly at the sweet, hot flower of her femininity. Alex’s chest heaved as she gasped for a breath of the humid air. She tangled a hand in Christian’s hair and moaned as she arched up, sliding one bare foot up and down his sweat-slicked back. The pleasure built, taking her higher and higher, but never over the edge.

  Pulling away, he rolled her onto her belly and kissed his way up the backs of her thighs, over the swell of her buttocks to the sensitive indentation at the small of her back, where he planted a slow kiss. He slid over her in a full body caress, settling himself intimately between her legs as he bent to nibble at the side of her throat.

  “I need you. Alex,” he murmured darkly, nuzzling her ear. “I need to be inside you, to feel you around me. I’ve never needed anything—anyone—the way I need you.”

  With the admission came a piercing shaft of fear deep inside him. Alex had become a part of him. No other woman had ever gotten so close. No other woman had ever held such power to hurt him. No other woman had ever stirred within him such a savage need to possess and protect. No other woman but this woman.

  When a Man Loves a Woman…

  She twisted beneath him, arching up, seeking contact. “I need you too,” she whispered, turning her head to brush her lips across his. “Take me, Christian. Take me to paradise again.”

  They rolled across the bed then, Christian ending up with Alex draped over him, the heat of her pressing against his belly, her hands on either side of his head. Her head was thrown back, her breasts thrust magnificently forward. Christian arched up to take one mauve point into his mouth, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him there until she finally pulled away, panting.

  “I love you, Alex,” he said with a growl, easing her down on his shaft.

  Alex held her breath as he filled her with his strength, with his essence. Her body stretched and tightened around him, clutching him deep within her where she wanted him most, where she needed him so urgently. She lifted herself and slid down on him, slowly, prolonging the sensation. He kissed her, his mouth hot, avid, slanting hungrily across hers, his tongue plunging into her.

  It was indescribable—the wondrous, mysterious, frightening sensation of being locked intimately with the man she loved. They were so close, so in tune. The physical expression of their feelings was so beautiful, it battered down the barriers inside her, reached straight to her heart. And she shivered a little at the thought of what awesome power this man held over her. She did her best to ignore the little voice that tried to tell her she shouldn’t have let him so close, that she shouldn’t love him so much, that she didn’t deserve this kind of happiness. She shut out those dark thoughts that were trying to drift into her mind like smoke. Moving strongly on Christian, she took him deep and hard and gasped as the exquisite explosion of feeling obliterated all else.

  Christian’s control broke as lightning flashed over the distant hills and Alex’s body stroked over his, taut as a bowstring, slick with sweat, trembling with building passion. She was the woman he loved—the only woman he’d ever truly loved with everything that was in his heart, with all that made up the man he was. He had nearly lost her, and the fear of that realization shot through him again as he held her to him.

  With a desperate need to make her his, to brand her again with his possession, he rolled her beneath him and drove himself into her, urgent and frightened in a way he had never known before. Love reached past the pleasant surface emotions he’d shared with other women. It cut deeper than the heart, touched his soul, changed him forever in a way he could never begin to understand.

  He looked down into Alex’s face, no more than a breath away, into the glowing amber of her eyes, and saw his own feelings reflected back. They both groaned together as rapture built to a fever pitch and took them over the crest. Then they held each other, spent and sweating, tangled in the sheets, their sighs trailing off to melt into the music, their feelings hanging thick in the sultry air around them.

  When a man loves a woman.

  And in the still of the night the storm rumbled closer.

  ten

  “BLOODY BEGGAR TRIED TO BITE ME!” CHARLIE exclaimed indignantly as she dashed out of Terminator’s stall and slammed shut the lower half of the door, her hasty actions belying the truculent look on her face. “Tried to take me arm right off, he did, the bleedin’ sod!”

  She gave the horse her meanest look, narrowing her eyes until they were mere slits between scowling brows and pudgy rouged cheeks. She shook a finger at the wild-eyed gelding. “Next stop’s the canning factory, mind you.”

  “And it can’t happen soon enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Christian muttered.

  He stood in the aisle, dressed for his first competition of the day in buff breeches and a pristine white shirt, which would not remain pristine for long. The storm that had rumbled through during the night had done nothing to alleviate the stifling heat but had managed to add another level of thickness to the humidity. It had also left the top layer of ground just wet enough to make mud—guaranteeing tricky footing in the ring and plenty of work for the grooms and the laundry services.

  It was not yet midmorning, and already the temperature had climbed into the high eighties. Tempers had climbed in direct proportion. There were a great
many more raised voices in the stables than usual, more horses with pinned ears, more grooms grumbling about menial tasks. Hanging on the grillwork of many stalls were big square electric fans, humming incessantly in an effort to keep the horses cool. There was nothing to be done about the human tempers. They rose and fell as sporadically as the sultry breeze, adding their staccato accents to the sounds of steel-shod hooves on concrete and rock music blasting from a tape player.

  “Are you all right?” Christian asked, eyeing the girl.

  Charlie flashed him an acrimonious look, the trio of silver earrings on her right ear clanging together like warning bells. She waited to speak until a pair of junior hunters had been led past. As soon as their handlers were out of earshot, she lit into her employer. “A lot you care. Bloody well glad to be rid of me, you are. And using me to do your dirty work without me even knowing.” She sneered at him, clearly expressing her opinion of him as a life form lower than pond scum. “You’re a right flaming cad, you are. No better than that horse,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at Terminator, who pinned his ears and shook his head. “Worse, even. At least he shows his colors.”

  Christian scowled. News traveled at the speed of sound through the ranks of the grooms. No doubt the nasty little scene he and Alex and Robert had played out at the party had made its way to every corner of the show grounds by now. It was probably the hot topic over doughnuts at the concession stand. The show secretaries were probably buzzing about it in their little office. It was a wonder the recapped version hadn’t come over the PA system with the morning announcements.

  He heaved a sigh and planted his fists at his waist. Guilt dug a talon into him at the thought that Charlie was more than half-right that he was using her. Contrite or not, he wasn’t going to admit that to her, but he was going to set her straight as far as his relationship with Alex went.

  “I know what the rumors are, Charlotte,” he said, all traces of the flip, charming rogue gone. He looked as serious as any of his stuffy brothers. “I also know what the facts are. I care very deeply for Alex. Feel free to spread that little bit of news around to all your gossiping friends.”

  Charlie rubbed a hand across her chin and gave him a long, measuring look. Finally she shrugged one shoulder and tugged up the strap of her orange tank top. “Maybe I will.” She dragged the words out grudgingly.

  Christian watched her scuff the toe of her sneaker against the concrete as she slid her hands into the pockets of baggy khaki shorts, and realized with a start that he wanted the girl’s respect. Gads, he was turning into a bona fide Atherton! Respectability, responsibility, love. He sighed and shrugged, conceding defeat.

  “You’re looking grim,” Alex said cheerfully, tapping him on the seat of his breeches with her crop as she sauntered in from the show office. She was dressed much the same as Christian was in buff breeches and a white blouse. Her blouse was sleeveless, a concession to the heat. Christian’s sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows, displaying strong tan arms and an expensive platinum watch. Her gaze lingered appreciatively on the way his breeches clung to the muscles of his thighs.

  “It’s this bloody heat,” Christian grumbled, leaning down to kiss her lightly. “And the thought of you facing a grand prix course on that rabid animal.”

  Alex sighed and speared a hand back through her damp hair. “Let’s not start on that, please.”

  Christian ground his teeth and glared at the chestnut. “He just tried to attack Simmonds.”

  “Are you okay?” Alex asked the groom, taking in the belligerent set of the girl’s chin as well as the brief flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Charlie liked to play it tougher than she was. They had a lot in common that way.

  “I’m fine. The guv’nor’s stretching it a bit,” she said evenly, her gaze steady on Christian’s face. “The bloody pig tried to bite me, is all. He does that every flippin’ day.”

  At least he had to admire the girl’s loyalty to Alex, Christian thought, rubbing at the tension in the back of his neck.

  Alex looked into Terminator’s stall, pensive as she stared at the horse. He was restless, weaving back and forth in front of his grain box in a habit that had schizophrenic overtones. His washy chestnut coat was already dark with sweat in patches along his neck and flank. The tension rolled off him in waves.

  He wasn’t ready for a show of this kind. He had earned his way into it, having accumulated a substantial amount of prize money during his checkered career. He had demonstrated to Alex that he could handle the fences, but his temperament had worsened with every increase in competition. A show like this one carried a certain excitement in the air. The grooms were busier, the general bustle in the stable was increased. The show grounds were alive with spectators, all of them excited about the caliber of horses and competition they were there to see. And the riders transmitted a nervous tension of their own. This wasn’t some penny-ante schooling show with little fake gold cups for prizes. This was the highest echelon of competition. The horses here were worth tens of thousands and even hundreds of thousands of dollars. The riders were people who had competed internationally, people who had ridden in the Olympics. The prize money for the grand prix was fifty thousand dollars.

  No, it wasn’t that Terminator couldn’t handle the fences. He couldn’t handle the pressure. Alex knew it. She also knew that his owner would pack up Terminator and his stable mate and take them to another trainer if she scratched him from the competition.

  Her gaze slid to the next stall where A Touch of Dutch stood on the far side, placidly submitting to the ministrations of the two Heathers, dozing as she enjoyed the breeze from the fan that was hooked to the box adjacent to hers.

  “I can get you five that are her equal and better,” Christian said softly, standing so close behind her, she could feel his body heat. “She’s not the issue here, Alex.”

  No. The issue was her independence, Alex thought. This had to do with paying her dues and working her way up and not relying on anyone else for her livelihood or her success. It had to do with fighting demons and winning. Christian was asking her to lean on him, and she couldn’t do it. She loved him, but she couldn’t let herself allow him to save her, because she couldn’t allow herself to believe he would be there the next time.

  “I’ve got two in the pregreen class in an hour,” she murmured, not looking up at him. “I’d better get cracking.”

  He raised his hands and rubbed at the tension in her shoulders, forcing a long sigh out of his lungs. Let it go, don’t push, he told himself, and he smiled ruefully at the thought that it was far easier said than done these days, since this chronic case of responsibility had set in. A turbulent mix of emotions twisted inside him as he turned Alex and gazed down into her amber eyes.

  “I love you,” he whispered, bending his head down near hers.

  “And I love you,” Alex whispered back, rising up on the toes of her boots to kiss him. “Just don’t try to run my life.”

  Standing at attention he clicked his heels together and gave her a smart salute and a dazzling smile. “I shall endeavor to do my best.”

  But the smile faded as he walked away, assailed by doubts.

  “Do yourself a favor,” Rylan grumbled as Christian reached the new barn and the row of box stalls that were draped in Quaid Farm blue. Christian’s brows lifted. Ry shot a dark look at his wife, who stood holding their son’s hand near the open door of Diamond Life’s stall. “If you’re going to get tangled up with a woman, make sure she’s got sense enough to mind you.”

  “Too late for that,” Christian muttered wryly.

  His employer ignored him, wheeling instead to face his pregnant wife again with a thunderous black scowl. “You shouldn’t be out in this heat, Mary Margaret.”

  “Oh, pooh, sugar.” Maggie batted her lashes at him and patted her free hand to the crown of her wide-brimmed straw hat. “I’ve got my sunhat and my sundress on. I’ve got enough sunscreen to coat a horse with. Besides, I’m not a piece of
wax fruit that’s going to melt in the heat.”

  Christian bent and brushed a kiss to Maggie’s expectantly upturned cheek and couldn’t help but smile at her. “I think you look very fetching.”

  “Why, thank you,” she said, preening as she let go of her son’s hand and turned in a somewhat awkward circle, showing off her yellow dress and her enormous belly.

  Ry snorted. “Yeah, we’ll see how fetching she looks when we have to scrape her up off the ground after she passes out from the heat.”

  Maggie sent him a ferocious look.

  “I expect Maggie knows her limits,” Christian said without much conviction.

  “She never has,” Ry said flatly. “Why should she start now?”

  Christian wasn’t inclined to argue the point. He was in no position to. Hadn’t he just finished trying to dissuade Alex from something she was bent on doing? He certainly didn’t believe she knew her limits. Or maybe she did, he thought, frowning darkly as his suspicion came creeping back to him.

  “Buddy Quaid, get out of that stall!” Ry barked, his fierce-eyed stare on his son, who had gone into the stall where the young stallion, Diamond Life, was being readied.

  “But I was just gonna help Marlin,” the boy said, frowning as his father scooped him up.

  “You got to be taller to help Marlin,” Ry explained, tucking the boy under his arm like a football.

  “But I’m big,” Buddy protested, looking at his father upside down. “I’m gonna be a big brother.”

  “Big brothers help their mamas,” Katie Leone said, coming to stand beside her own big brother, who leaned down and kissed her dutifully. She tickled her nephew’s chin and chuckled as he squealed and squirmed.

  “How did the babysitting go?” Christian asked as he took Isabella from Nick’s arms and rubbed noses with her. The baby immediately began regaling him with gibberish, her small hands waving as she spoke.

  “Great,” Nick said, pulling Katie backward into his embrace. “Isabella is an angel.”