Cole Cameron's Revenge

by Sandra Marton

  He was hard as a rock.

  No. He wasn't going to wake Faith. She had to be ex­hausted. They'd made love again and again, his need for her unending, hers for him every bit as intense, though she'd winced the last time he'd entered her.

  "Baby?" he'd said softly. "Am I hurting you?"

  "No," she'd whispered, "oh, no. Don't stop. Don't..."

  And she'd moved, put her hand between them and touched him and he couldn't have stopped, not for anything, not until her body convulsed around his.

  "Damn," Cole whispered, and rose from the bed.

  Let Faith sleep. He'd worn her out. No matter what she said, she'd been tender that last time, tender and still so tight that he'd almost been able to forget she'd spent her nights in another man's arms for the past nine years...

  Except, she hadn't. Wasn't that what Jergen had told him? That Faith had kept Ted out of her bed? That Ted had to seek solace with a woman in Atlanta?

  Cole frowned. What was the matter with him? The last thing he wanted to think about tonight was his brother's sexual re­lationship with Faith.

  He made his way through the darkened bedroom to his dressing room, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and went down the stairs to his study. That kind of thinking was bad news. Whatever had gone on between Faith and Ted had been their business. Besides, Jergen's stories were probably exaggerated. Everybody in town, the lawyer included, would have judged Faith Davenport harshly, maybe even made up the facts to suit their own vivid imaginations.

  Faith had told him that she'd loved Ted.

  He believed her.

  Cole sat down at his desk and turned on the light. He reached for the briefcase he'd brought back from Liberty. It was still crammed with Ted's papers, nothing important, from the fast look he'd taken at the top two or three things. Still, the papers had to be gone through before he could dispose of them. He'd already turned up a couple of bills that needed to be paid.

  Yeah, that would make the hours pass, he thought as he dumped the contents of the briefcase on his desk. Go through the papers, save the few that mattered, throw out the rest. Middle of the night thoughts could be bleak. Why waste time letting them prey on his mind? Yes, Faith had married Ted. And yes, she'd borne his child. So, okay. Imagining her in his brother's arms was lousy. Even thinking about her body, rounded and full with Ted's baby...

  "Hell," he said into the silence. Enough of that. He began rifling through the papers.

  It was dull stuff. A plumbing bill. An estimate for a new roof. A forgotten shopping list and a note from the gardener, suggesting he move the rosebushes. This detritus was all that remained of Ted. Bills, estimates, shopping lists...

  What in hell was that? Cole reached into the wastebasket, plucked out a piece of paper he'd tossed in automatically, be­fore his brain had fully registered the contents.

  Teddy, my own...

  Cole frowned. This wasn't Faith's handwriting.

  Teddy, my own. I miss you terribly. I hate living like this, seeing you only once a month and sharing stolen moments... Cole's gaze dropped to the bottom of the page. Jessie, it

  said, in a sinuous, feminine hand.

  He stopped reading, looked up blindly and stared at the wall. Ted had spent one week a month in Atlanta, Jergen had said. He'd had a woman there.

  So what?

  Cole crumpled the note in his fist, tossed it into the basket and began rapidly thumbing through the papers. The past was dead, wasn't that what he'd told himself? He wasn't going to sit in judgment on Ted, or on a woman named Jessie...or on Faith, who'd said she'd loved his brother, that Jergen's ac­cusations were a lie...

  His breath caught. Another note, in the same handwriting and with that same signature. Don't read it, he told himself, dammit, don't.

  It would have been easier to have told himself to stop breathing.

  .. so happy. Everyone is entitled to happiness, Teddy, and I to love. I adore you and I know you feel the same way but here we are, kept apart by your damned determination to honor an obligation to a marriage that's always been a sham...

  Cole's mouth hardened. He gave up all pretence of looking at receipts or anything else. Were there other notes from Jessie? He leaned over the stack of papers, went through them deliberately-and found more.

  ... ever occurred to you that she used you? I know you don't want to hear this, Teddy, because you feel responsible for the child, but I beg you to consider what I'm saying....

  ... doesn't share your life, doesn't want to know anything about the real person inside you. How can you exist that way? How can you live a lie?

  Cole's eyes burned with unshed tears. Ted's secret life was spread before him, the emptiness of it, the lack of love. He didn't want to read any more, didn't want to know any more...

  And then he found an envelope, already addressed in his brother's hand. It had never been sealed or mailed. Slowly, Cole withdrew a single sheet of paper and unfolded it.

  ... asked me if there's any affection between Faith and me. I know what you're thinking, Jess, that sometimes, even in a situation like ours, a man can be torn in two directions. I promise you, that's not the way it is. The truth is that I wish it were. How much simpler my life would be if your accusa­tions were true. If Faith loved me. If she shared my bed. But she doesn't. Does it really matter how she got pregnant? She did, that's all. And I married her. I have an obligation to her, Jess. I will, until Peter is grown. I had to do the right thing....

  The letter slipped from Cole's fingers. He buried his head in his hands. Ted, he thought, oh, Ted. Marrying a woman and not even knowing how she'd gotten herself pregnant. Doing it because it was the right thing to do. Loving her, wanting her to love him and knowing she didn't. Being kept out of her bed so that you eventually got so lonely you sought love elsewhere...

  "Cole?"

  Cole shot to his feet. His wife-his scheming, heartless wife-stood just inside the doorway. She was wearing some­thing he'd bought her, a pale blue silk robe that hung open just enough to show the soft curves of her breasts, the flatness of her belly. Her hair hung to her shoulders in a mass of golden curls, her mouth was gently swollen from his kisses. She looked beautiful and as innocent as the day he'd first met her...

  And he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from going to her and wrapping his fingers around her throat.

  "Couldn't you sleep?" She came toward him, a beautiful witch who'd destroyed his brother's life and come within a heartbeat of doing the same thing to his. "I woke up and you were gone." She lay her hands against his naked chest, tipped her face up to him and smiled. "Come back to bed, darling."

  Darling. Just a little while ago, he'd have given his soul to hear that word on her lips. Now he knew it for what it was, a lie like all her others, meant to chain everything that he was to her.

  "Cole?" Her smile dimmed. "What's the matter?" "Why should anything be the matter?"

  "I don't know. You just you look so strange..."

  "You don't." He clasped her wrists, his fingers like man­acles around them. "You look the same as you always do, Faith. Beautiful, innocent and guileless. So guileless."

  "Cole." Her tongue snaked out, moistened her lips. She gave a quick little laugh. "You're scaring me."

  "Am I?" He smiled thinly, tightened his grasp on her wrists. "I'll bet you weren't afraid of my brother."

  "Of course not. Why would I have been afraid of Ted?" She tried to tug her hands free. "Cole, let go."

  "He had to do the right thing," he said roughly. She winced; he knew his fingers must be biting into her wrists but he didn't give a damn. "Was that his idea, Faith? Or is that what you told him?"

  "Told who?" She grimaced. "You're hurting me." "No, baby. Hurting people is your thing, not mine." "Dammit, what is this?"

  "What a pathetic pair the Cameron brothers were, Faith. Both of us, drooling over you and almost tripping over our feet in our desperate rush to do the right thing."

  Her face whitened. "What are you talking about?"<
br />
  He jerked his head toward the desk. "I've been going through my brother's papers."

  "Ted's..." She looked at the desk, then at him. "And ­and what did you find?"

  He smiled tightly. "Oh, baby," he said softly, "you should see those eyes of yours. Big and beautiful-and terrified." He tugged her closer, ignoring the little cry she made. "I found it all, Faith, everything I needed to know the truth."

  "The truth..."

  She stared at him in horror. Possibilities tumbled through her mind. What had he found? A copy of Peter's birth certif­icate that Ted hadn't mentioned? A picture of Ted and-and someone else? She'd stumbled across a photo, once, innocent enough, of Ted and a man with their arms around each other's shoulders, but Ted had blushed and apologized and said it would never happen again. Would Cole know what he was looking at, even if he discovered such a picture?

  "What truth?" she whispered.

  "Come on, baby. The act is finished. I can almost see those wheels turning. What lie are you gonna come up with, now?"

  Peter, she thought frantically, this had to be about Peter. Otherwise, why would Cole be looking at her with such hatred in his eyes?

  "All right." She hesitated, trying to find a way to explain things to him. How desperate she'd been. How alone. "I swear, I was going to tell you. I just-I wanted to wait until the morning."

  "Of course you did," Cole said silkily. "Morning's when the payoff was due. When I was going to phone my lawyer and tell him to rip up the prenup."

  She jerked back as if he'd struck her. "How can you think that of me? I don't want your money. I told you that. I never wanted-"

  "It must have been rough, thinking you'd landed a Cameron and then having him slip out of your greedy little fingers at the last minute."

  Faith blinked. "What?"

  "There you were, all ready for the big payoff."

  "I don't understand-"

  "Sure you do." Cole smiled. "You wanted a Cameron. Well hell, Faith, I wanted the trailer park queen."

  Her face went white. "No. You said-you said you loved me..."

  "A kid that age will say anything to get into a girl's pants." The pain in her eyes filled him with pleasure. It was long past time someone returned the favor, showed Faith Davenport what it was like to see your dreams ripped in pieces. "I'd been planning to leave Liberty for months." That lie came easily, too. "The morning after the prom seemed just right. The only thing was, I'd figured I'd have to work a little bit harder to get between your legs. Sort of a farewell present from you to me, you know?"

  Faith had stopped struggling to free her hands. She stood very still, tears spilling from her eyes.

  "Last night," she whispered, "last night you said-you said you loved me..."

  "Sure. Can you think of an easier way to take that stupid prenup of yours and stuff it down your throat?" He grinned. "It's called revenge, Faith. Revenge for me, for my brother, for the woman who managed to make my brother happy de­spite you."

  "The woman who..." Faith stared at him. "The woman who...?" A bubble of laughter burst from her throat.

  "I'm glad you think this is funny," Cole growled. "You won't be laughing when you find yourself out on your butt, with my lawyers suing you for custody of my brother's son. I'm not going to dissolve this marriage, baby. You are." He looked at her in disgust, reached for the intercom on his desk and pressed a button. "I don't know why I'm wasting my time talking to you. I'll wake Dobbs. He'll take you to the airport. I want you out of my sight, out of my home... out of Peter's life."

  Faith stared at him, terrified of what she heard in his voice. "You can't. The attorney said so. He said no court would-­

  "If he's right, I'll find another way." Cole's eyes narrowed. "The bottom line is that you're not going to raise my brother's son."

  "Sir?" Dobbs said, over the intercom.

  "Take Mrs. Cameron to the airport," Cole said brusquely. "Now, sir?"

  "Now.­

  He swung away and began stuffing Ted's papers back into the briefcase. When he looked up again, Faith was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FAITH glanced at her watch as she stood in the tiny kitchen of her Atlanta apartment and gulped down the last of her morning coffee.

  It was almost nine o'clock. If she didn't hurry, she'd be late. This was her fourth interview of the week but she had a good feeling about it. She might not have the credentials the store wanted-she'd never sold anything in her life-but at least she knew something about children's clothing.

  How quickly they grew out of it, for instance.

  She sighed as she plucked Peter's shirt from the back of a chair. He was shooting up like a weed. By the time school started next month, he'd need new pants and new shoes. She just had to find work before then. So far, she'd charged ev­erything on her credit card, and the fifteen hundred dollars she'd needed to pay the first two months rent on this apartment had wiped out her checking account.

  She was flat broke. If she didn't get a job soon...

  There was no point in thinking about `soon,' she told herself firmly. One day at a time. That was all she could handle with­out panicking. As it was, she'd been lucky to find this place. It was only two furnished room with a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom, but it was clean and the neighborhood was worn-looking but safe. Peter had made friends with the twins who lived down the hall. He seemed happy enough­ she suspected he saw their new life as an adventure-though he kept asking when he was going to see Cole again.

  Faith had tried to be as honest as she could.

  She'd driven to the Scout camp as soon as she'd returned from New York. Peter had fussed a little when she told him she was taking him home.

  "I'm having a good time, Mom," he'd said. "Do I have to leave?"

  "Yes," she'd said firmly.

  He'd been even more puzzled when they reached Cameron House and he saw the cartons she'd picked up at the super­market.

  "Here," she'd said, with a smile she hoped might fool him.

  "Take a box, Peter, and start packing your toys."

  "Why?" her son had asked. "Where are we going?" "Peter. We don't have much time. Take a box upstairs and-­

  "Where's Cole? Isn't he going with us? He said he was gonna be my new father."

  Faith had spewed out a string of platitudes and feel-good white lies. Peter hadn't believed any of them. Eventually, she'd taken him on her lap and told him that things didn't always work out the way grown-ups expected.

  Her son's face had fallen. "You mean, we're gonna get a divorce, like Scott's parents did?"

  How could you divorce a man when you were going in hiding from him? she'd thought, but she'd hugged her little boy and said that the only thing she was absolutely sure of was that she loved him more than anything in the whole, wide world-and that they were going to move to Atlanta and have fun.

  Faith sighed as she slipped into her suit jacket.

  They'd moved, at least. The fun part was yet to come, though Peter was content enough. He liked his new friends and the twins' mother, Anne, was great about watching him when Faith needed to go on an interview. Faith reciprocated by watching the twins on the evenings their baby-sitter didn't show up in time for Anne to get to her job as a night cashier at the convenience store up the block.

  All in all, things weren't so bad. Faith sighed and ran a comb through her hair. If she only had a job. If she only had some money.

  If she only weren't so afraid Cole would find Peter.

  He never made threats, he'd said, he only made promises.

  And he'd promised to take Peter from her. She didn't doubt that he'd do it, that he was already looking for them. The boy she'd known had grown into a ruthless man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

  He'd wanted her and she'd tumbled straight into his trap.

  Now he wanted the child he believed was Ted's. Faith shud­dered. At least she hadn't told him the truth about Peter. If he'd known her son was really his...

  N
o. She wasn't going to think about that. The possibilities were too frightening.

  Faith looked into the mirror one last time, gathered her comb and compact, a lipstick and a couple of tissues and tucked them into her purse. Did she looked like a woman who could sell children's clothing at Macy's?

  "Yes," she said to her reflection, "yes, I do."

  She smoothed down her skirt and did a last-minute check to make sure she had everything. Keys. The last of her dwin­dling supply of cash. Okay. She took a deep breath. She was ready.

  "Don't worry," Anne had said, when Faith brought Peter to her door earlier in the morning. "He'll be safe." And when Faith looked at her, startled, the other woman had smiled. "You don't have to tell me details but I can tell you've got some kind of problem. Is it with your ex? Does he want to take Peter from you?"

  "Something like that," Faith had murmured, because what more could she possibly have said? That her ex was still her husband? That he was a ruthless man who had condemned her as a heartless schemer, and that she was the worst kind of fool because sometimes, in the darkness of the night, she lay awake and wept for the quiet part of her soul that was foolish enough to still love him?

  "Stop it," she said firmly, and started toward the door. Something was lying under the table... Ah. She bent down and picked up the small plastic car that was Peter's latest pride and joy.

  "Oh, boy," he'd said, when the car had tumbled from the cereal box this morning, "wait until Jimmy and Joey see this!"

  She smiled as she pocketed the toy. Peter would come look­ing for the car as soon as he realized he'd forgotten it. Well, she could drop it off at Anne's on her way out...

  The doorbell rang. Faith's smile broadened. Peter, she thought. He'd already figured out that he'd left his prize be­hind.

  "Sweetheart," she said as she opened the door, "I was just going to bring this to--­

  It wasn't her son. It was Cole.

  She cried out in shock and tried to push the door closed. He must have expected that because he jammed his shoulder against the it at the same moment and the door flew open, propelling her backward.