Cole Cameron's Revenge

by Sandra Marton

"Oh, I think so." Faith folded her hands in her lap. "You've made it clear that you're prepared to buy my fidelity, that you have no respect for me, and that you expect me to find it impossible to behave honorably. Would you say that about sums it up?"

  She smiled, though he thought he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. For a second, he felt a fist close around his heart but then he remembered her lies, the way she'd used him and Ted, and the feeling was gone.

  "Yes," he said coldly, "it does. Then, you'll sign?" "I will."

  "Good." He reached for the phone. "I've arranged for a notary and two witnesses."

  "Not yet."

  Cole sat back. Here it came. What would it be? Delicate tears? Heart-wrenching sobs? Her face lifted so that he'd see the glint of despair in her eyes? Or would she be more direct, give him a look that promised everything a man could possibly want if he showed her just a little bit of generosity?

  He felt his body quicken.

  He might, if she played her part right. If she moved onto the sofa beside him, if she wound those slender arms around his neck...

  "Cole?"

  He blinked. Faith had taken a document from her shoulder bag. A legal document, judging by the dimensions of the sin­gle sheet of paper she held out to him.

  "What is that?" he said.

  She smiled, but he could see the piece of paper shaking in her outstretched hand. "It's my prenuptial agreement," she said softly.

  Of course. He should have expected as much. She had more than a sexy body, she had a good mind. Even in the days when he'd done his thinking with his hormones instead of his head, he'd admired her intelligence. Okay. He took the paper from her. Why not read whatever she'd come up with? A good laugh might restore his equilibrium. That he'd even contem­plated showing her any charity proved that he'd come close to losing it.

  "Your prenup," he said. "You went to see Jergen?"

  "No. What would be the point? You probably own him."

  She got to her feet, tucked her hands into the pockets of the white cotton dress. The simple action made her breasts press lightly against the thin fabric. He could see the pebbling of her nipples. He knew it wasn't his presence that caused it he had the air conditioning on and the room was cool-but the sight sent a message straight into his groin. He forced his eyes down but that was a mistake. Now he was looking at a long expanse of tanned legs and trim ankles shown to their best in slender-heeled sandals with straps that looked as if they were made of gossamer.

  Cole could almost feel the electricity hum in his blood. He stood up, irritated as much at himself as he was at Faith.

  "What'd you do? Write this yourself?"

  "I went to Atlanta," she said calmly. "And I met with an attorney who handles things like this."

  "Ah." He really had forgotten that quick mind of hers. He smiled coolly. "Let me guess. You told him who I am-"

  "Of course."

  "And he said, `Why, my dear Ms. Cameron, you've stum­bled into a goldmine."'

  Faith didn't laugh, didn't even smile. She looked at him, her eyes giving nothing away. "What he said doesn't matter. All you need be concerned with is what I said to him."

  Cole nodded. "I can imagine."

  "I doubt if you can." She jerked her chin toward the paper he held in his hand. "Read it."

  How much would she ask for? He looked down, read the numbingly effusive tumble of legal language. Would she want a hundred thousand? Five hundred thousand? A million or more? He toyed with the idea of letting her have the money. He could add stipulations. She'd get a lump sum of so much if she warmed his bed each night for five years, so much more after ten...

  And then he reached the single paragraph that mattered. No legal mumbo jumbo, just plain words in plain English. Faith Davenport Cameron agreed to perform all necessary wifely duties save one.

  She would not have sexual relations with her husband.

  He stared at the paragraph, at the neatly printed spaces be­neath it, ready for his signature and hers. And he began to laugh. Really laugh, great roars of laughter that echoed through the room.

  "I'm glad you find this so amusing."

  He looked at Faith. Her face was white, her eyes pools of darkest blue. He began to speak, laughed instead, and finally caught his breath.

  "I hope you didn't spend a lot of money on the services of this attorney," he said. "Where'd you find him? On a street corner?"

  "It's a legitimate document," she said in an icy voice. "From a respected law firm."

  Cole chuckled. "So, is this their idea of a joke?"

  "It's my idea of respectability. I know you're the one who thinks he has the moral high ground, but even a woman you believe has no ethics-a woman like me-will only stoop just so far."

  Her words wiped the smile from his face. Her sarcasm shouldn't have meant a damn but it got to him anyway, which was crazy. He was doing the right thing. He knew it.

  "This isn't worth the paper it's printed on," he said, and tossed the document on the table.

  "If you mean it's unenforceable in a court of law," Faith said quietly, "you're probably right."

  "There's no `probably' about it." He moved quickly, grasped her wrists. She jerked back but he brought her arms up, held her fists against his chest. "Marriage involves sex, Faith. You can't expect me to sign a document that says it doesn't." He transferred his hold on her wrists to one hand, slid the other slowly down her spine. "Sex is an implicit part of marriage."

  "It won't be, in ours."

  "Do you really expect me to agree to that?"

  She didn't know what she expected, not anymore, not with his hand moving against her back, with his body hard and warm against hers.

  "Yes," she said, her voice shaky, "I do. Ours is nothing but a marriage of convenience."

  A marriage of convenience. If anybody had asked him, he'd have laughed at the term and said it was straight out of the eighteenth century. A man didn't take a beautiful woman as his wife and then not sleep with her.

  Cole bent his head, inhaled the scent of Faith's hair. Lavender, maybe, or just summer sunshine. Whatever the aroma, it was as out of date as the concept of a marriage of convenience.

  "Don't--don't do that," she said.

  "I'm not doing anything." It was the truth. Burying your face in a woman's hair, nuzzling the silky locks from her throat and brushing your mouth against her satiny skin didn't qualify as "anything," not in a world where men and women tumbled into bed almost as easily as they shook hands. "Not a thing," he said, his voice hot and low. "Nothing you could actually call `sex."'

  Couldn't you? If this wasn't sex it was the next best thing to it. Faith felt as if her heart might burst.

  "I mean it, Cole. I won't have sex with you."

  Color striped her cheeks; her eyes were wide and glittering. Her lips were parted. Won't you? he thought, as she trembled in his arms.

  "If you insist on this marriage," she said, "it will be with­out intimacy."

  Without intimacy. Such an old-fashioned phrase. The amaz­ing thing was that it sounded right, coming from her. If he hadn't know what a little schemer she was, he'd have believed her. But her body, her voice, even the way she looked at him, gave her away. She could say she wouldn't have sex with him but sex was what she wanted. What she needed. It was what they'd always wanted and needed from each other.

  He thought about telling her that, about telling her what she could do with the agreement.. . and then he thought of what it would be like, once they were married, to make her admit that only place she belonged was in his bed.

  It would be easy.

  His body hardened at the thought. She responded to it. Her breath had quickened; her skin was turning hot. He could take her now and she would let him, despite the silly prenup, de­spite what she claimed. He could take her and plunge deep inside her ...but he wouldn't. He wanted time for a slow se­duction, that kind that would, at last, rid her of the power she held over him.

  Cole let go of her. "I'll sign it," he said calml
y, and reached for the paper.

  Moments later, both prenups had been signed and properly witnessed. With what seemed terrifying speed, Faith found herself on a private jet headed for Las Vegas. Cole had made all the arrangements, including asking Alice to spend the night at the house so she could baby-sit Peter.

  A handful of hours later, Faith stood before an altar hung with artificial flowers while a stranger in a shiny blue suit said the words that made her Cole's wife.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FAITH wondered if she'd broken some kind of record.

  She'd been married twice, each time to a man named Cameron. She hadn't wanted either marriage, though it had been easier exchanging vows with Ted. Maybe it was because she'd felt affection for him. Or maybe it was because Ted hadn't been any sort of threat.

  Cole was.

  He'd signed her version of a prenup but she didn't trust him. He'd given in far too easily and then there was that un­settling moment when he'd taken her in his arms and insisted that kissing her throat, drawing her against the hardness of his body, wasn't sex. Perhaps it wasn't, by a dictionary definition, but what he'd done had made her ache for more.

  Yes, he was a threat. No, she didn't trust him. She didn't even trust herself. She thought about that when he slid a plain gold band on her ring finger. Looking down, she'd half ex­pected to see "Property of Cole Cameron" engraved on the polished surface.

  "By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada," the man who'd married them said, and it was done. She was mar­ried to Cole.

  He didn't waste time on niceties. She was grateful for that. No smile, certainly no attempted embrace. He shook the jus­tice's hand, took her elbow and led her to the limousine that had taken them from McCarran Airport to the wedding chapel.

  "I've told the pilot we'll head straight back to Liberty," Cole said. "I want to get there before Peter wakes up, so we can break the news to him before he hears it from anyone else."

  Faith looked at him. "Who could possibly know?"

  "By now? Probably half the town. I explained the situation to Alice and asked her to keep quiet but I suspect she won't honor the request."

  "She won't honor it at all, if it concerns me." "What?"

  "Nothing." Faith took a deep breath. "You told Alice we were getting married? Before I'd agreed?"

  "There was never any question." He looked at her, his smile filled with arrogant self-assurance. "You just needed time to accept the inevitable." Then he picked up a newspa­per, opened it and began to read.

  Angry tears stung Faith's eyes. Two wedding ceremonies, and she'd wanted to weep through both. It had to be a record, just as she had to be the only woman in the world forced into loveless marriages twice by the same man.

  They reached Liberty just as the town began to stir. The ride to Cameron House in Cole's Jaguar was a continuation of the silence that had fallen between them since the cere­mony, hours before. When they arrived, Cole stepped from the car, opened Faith's door and held out his hand. She thought of running past him, up the porch steps without looking back. Maybe then all of this would go away. It was stupid, she knew, but she'd clung to the desperate hope that once they were back in Georgia, he'd tell her that the charade was over, that he never expected her to live up to the agreement she'd signed and that he was returning to wherever it was he'd come from...

  "Faith?"

  She looked up. His eyes burned into hers.

  "Yes," she said, and she ignored his hand, got out of the car and made her way to the porch. Alice opened the door before she could take out her keys.

  "Good mornin', Mrs. Cameron."

  Faith nodded as she stepped into the foyer. "Good morn­mg.

  "Makes it easy on everybody around here, don't it? Not havin' to call you by a different name, I mean."

  Faith felt her face fill with heat. I ought to be used to it, she thought. Alice had always been condescending. Ted had told her to ignore it and she'd done her best, but the situation had never been comfortable. Now it would be even worse.

  "Now that you mention it," Cole said pleasantly, "I guess it does." He stood beside Faith, his arm around her waist. His body, his touch, were a strong, comforting presence. "And that's what we all want, Alice, don't we?"

  The housekeeper's gaze flickered with uncertainty. "I ex­pect so."

  "I'm glad we agree. In that case, I think this would be as good a time as any to discuss your future."

  "My future, Mr. Cameron?"

  "I'd like you to decide if you want to stay on here, or if you'd be happier working for someone else."

  Alice jerked back in astonishment. "Why, I've never con­sidered-­

  "Consider it, then," Cole said, his voice hardening. "I know you're fond of Peter and that he's fond of you but I'll make other arrangements, if things aren't easy for everyone around here. Have I made myself clear?"

  The woman swallowed. "Yes, sir. You have."

  "Good." He smiled. "How is Peter?"

  "He's fine, sir. Still sound asleep."

  "We'll let him sleep, then, while you make us some break­fast."

  "I never eat breakfast," Faith started to say, but Cole ig­nored her.

  "Do you still make those great biscuits?" Alice's smile softened. "Yes, sir, I do."

  "That's what we'll have, then. Your biscuits, scrambled eggs, bacon and coffee. Lots of coffee." He looked at Faith.

  "How does that sound, darling?"

  "I told you," she said stiffly, "I never-"

  "Well, you will, today. It's the start of our honeymoon." He swung her up into his arms. Caught off guard, Faith gasped and struggled to free herself. Cole only held her tighter. "That's all right," he said softly. "Alice understands. Don't you, Alice?"

  "Yes, sir. Uh, Mr. Cameron?" The housekeeper's voice followed them up the stairs. "The boy from the hotel brought over that suitcase. I put it just where you wanted, in-"

  "In our room," Cole said softly, just loud enough for Faith to hear. "Right where it should be."

  Faith held her tongue until he'd elbowed the bedroom door shut. Then she pounded a fist against his shoulder. "Put me down!"

  "My pleasure," he said, and dumped her on her feet. "What kind of performance was that?"

  "A necessary one."

  "It was ridiculous!"

  "Use your head, Faith." Cole's carryall stood in the middle of the floor. He picked it up and put it on the bed. "Alice would wonder what was going on if we didn't behave like newlyweds."

  "She's wondering what's going on as it is." Faith glowered at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "I'm getting undressed."

  God, he was! He pulled his shirt out of his trousers, opened the buttons. The shirt landed on the bed. On her bed. She stared at Cole's wide, muscled shoulders that flowed into pow­erful biceps; the hard chest with its inverted vee of chestnut hair. Her mouth went dry. She didn't want to remember, didn't want to feel those emotions ever again.

  "Stop it!"

  His brows rose. "Excuse me?" It sounded polite but it wasn't. The words, the look on his face, were a challenge.

  She glanced at his shirt lying on her bed. "This is my bed­room!"

  "It's our bedroom, baby. Get used to it."

  "I am not sharing a bed with you, Cole. You signed an agreement-"

  "Do you want this town to think you're my wife or don't you?"

  "Frankly, I don't care."

  "Peter will care." Cole's eyes narrowed. "Besides, I saw how Alice treated you."

  "Oh, that," she said, as if it didn't matter.

  "Yeah. Oh, that." His voice sharpened. "You're my wife. I won't tolerate anyone showing you disrespect."

  Maybe he was human, after all.

  "That's generous of you," she said carefully, "but I-"

  "Generous, hell." He walked through the bathroom, opened the door on the far wall and peered into the small study that adjoined it. "You're mine, now."

  "Yours?" she said incredulously. "Yours? I don't belong to anybo
dy, Cole Cameron. You'd better get that straight."

  He strode back toward her, caught her by the shoulders and took her mouth with his. She felt the power of his kiss, the heat of it ...and hated herself for the soft moan she couldn't prevent. Shaken, she could only stare at him when he finally lifted his head.

  "You're mine," he said roughly. "Sooner or later, you'll admit it. And when you do, I'm going to collect." He picked up his suitcase. "Until then, I'll bunk on the sofa in the other room."

  Casually, he strolled into the bathroom and shut the door. Faith snatched his shirt from the bed and hurled it at the wall. It didn't help but there wasn't time to vent her anger any more than that. As soon as she heard the sound of the shower, she stripped off her clothes and changed to shorts and a cotton shirt. She was brushing her hair when a tentative knock sounded.

  "Mommy?"

  Peter. She dropped the brush on the dresser. She wasn't ready to face him yet...

  "Mom? Can I come in?"

  Faith took a deep breath. "Yes, of course, darling," she said brightly, and flung the door open. He son looked at her, then peered past her into the bedroom.

  "Is he here?"

  "Cole?" She could feel her smile tilt and she fought to keep it on her lips. "Yes. Yes, he is. Peter. I have... I mean, we have something to-to tell you..."

  "What your mother means," Cole said, from just behind her, "is that we got married last night."

  "Married? You and my mom?"

  "Uh-huh." He put his arm lightly around Faith's shoulders. "I apologize for not telling you about it but we made the decision kind of fast. We figured we'd surprise you."

  Peter stared at him. "Alice said there'd be a surprise but I never figured..." He looked at Faith. "Mom?"

  "Nothing will change," she said quickly. "Not for you."

  "That's right, champ." Cole dropped his arm from her shoulders and squatted on his haunches. "So, what do you think? Will it be okay? Having me around, I mean?" He cleared his throat. "I understand it might be tough. You loved your father a lot, and he loved you. But I'll love you, too-if you'll let me."

  The boy's lip trembled. "A lot?"