The MacGregor Grooms

by Nora Roberts

  Sometimes it was a fire in the blood, all heat and flash and glory. In those moments they couldn’t take each other fast enough.

  Other times it was like carefree children, all wrestling and laughter.

  And now and then, it was slow and tender. All heart. And that, he realized as his mouth cruised lazily over hers, was what he wanted now. He wanted her heart.

  So she sighed, and she sank into his arms. And she gave what she’d never known she had to give. With him there was always more inside her, one more well of emotion to be tapped, one more door to be quietly nudged open.

  She said his name as he picked her up to carry her to the sofa, murmured it as he lay down with her, moaned it as his hands began to move over her.

  The stroke of fingertips over flesh, the warmth of breath mingling. Mouths meeting to slide into kisses long and deep and aching.

  He felt her pulse trip under his hands, felt her heart race under his mouth. But he wanted more than excitement, more than desire. He wanted love.

  “Let me in.” He murmured it against her mouth. “I’ll never hurt you.”

  But he was, even then he was. He was ripping something inside her, tearing something out of her that she was terrified to lose. She shook her head, denying both of them, but his mouth was patient, his hands ruthlessly tender.

  They opened her heart, held it wide and let him tumble in.

  The change destroyed her, left her helpless and floundering. He slipped into her, braced so that he could watch her face, the awareness and the confusion in her eyes.

  His own heart filled to bursting. “It’s different.”

  She couldn’t speak, only shook her head, swallowed a sob as his mouth covered hers again. Unable to resist, she flowed with him, over the high warm wave. Then under.

  * * *

  “It’s different,” he said again.

  She grabbed a robe from a hook, shrugged into it. Desperate for balance, she jerked the belt into place.

  Suicide. Hadn’t she said he was suicide? And here she was, teetering right on the edge of the cliff.

  “No, it’s not.” She wanted to mean it. “And it doesn’t have to be.”

  He angled his head. “Why does it scare you to know that I care about you? That you matter to me?”

  “It doesn’t.” To settle her restless hands, she snapped up her brush and began to drag it through her hair. “Whatever you may think of me, I don’t have sex with men unless I matter.”

  “That’s not what I said or what I mean.” He tugged on his slacks, then reached for his shirt. “You’re good at turning the point around to suit yourself, Cat. But I’m just as good at sticking to what’s important. Right now, you are.”

  “Well, that’s fine.” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “I like being important.” Steadier, she set the brush down, then turned and leaned back against the counter. “You’re important, too, Duncan. Is that what you want to hear? Of course you are, or I wouldn’t still be with you. Don’t complicate this.”

  “Funny, I actually think I’m simplifying it. What do you feel for me?”

  “A great many things. I want you—I think that’s obvious enough. I enjoy you.” Smiling, she walked over to run her hands up his chest. “I like your style, I like your face and I downright adore your body.”

  The amusement she’d hoped for didn’t flicker in his eyes. They remained steady, level and just a little cool. “And without the sex?”

  “Hard to say.” She shrugged, turned away to straighten the cosmetics on the counter, but her hands felt numb. “Since we’re not without it, are we? But for the sake of argument …” She made herself turn back. “I’d still like you. You’re a likable man. I don’t make a lot of friends, Duncan. I’m not in one place long enough to go to the trouble or take the risk that friendship involves. You’re an exception.”

  His brow winged up. Odd, he mused, to feel delighted and irritated at the same time. “So, we’re friends?”

  “Aren’t we?”

  “I suppose we are.” He gave her the same easy smile she gave him. “Well, pal, we’ll be pulling out of port shortly. I have to get to work.”

  “I’ll see you around.” She felt a shudder, as if some major crisis had been narrowly evaded. “Oh, and Duncan? Nice doing business with you, sugar.”

  He flashed a grin as he opened the door. But when he shut it behind him, his eyes narrowed, darkened, and the smile went thin.

  He’d always considered himself a lucky man. But what the hell kind of luck was it for him to so suddenly fall in love, so ridiculously in love, with a woman who didn’t follow any standard pattern?

  Love wasn’t a game he’d expected to play until he was damn good and ready. But the cards had already been dealt. He was just going to have to see that she anted up and didn’t bluff him out of the pot.

  Because when Duncan Blade played, he played to win.

  Chapter 18

  For the rest of the week he let it ride, held his cards close to the vest and let the pot build.

  It wasn’t exactly a sacrifice, he decided as he did his pass through the casino. The more she relaxed, the more … demonstrative she became.

  And he enjoyed watching the way she flirted with his grandfather, the way she gradually warmed toward his grandmother. Once he’d come across the two of them with their heads together on deck and would have sworn the sexy Cat and the serene Anna were sharing secrets.

  He needed to talk with Cat himself and hadn’t managed to make time that afternoon. He’d skimmed over her contract, refreshing himself on the details of the option. It seemed only fair he talk to her before he called her agent and enforced it.

  Then there was the call he’d gotten just that morning from Reed Valentine of Valentine Records. He imagined Cat was going to be very pleased with how well the demo he’d sent in had been received.

  It wasn’t something he wanted to tell her on the fly. Such news, he concluded, required the right setting. And he’d already taken steps to provide it after her second show.

  It made him smile to think of it, so the warmth of that showered onto the Kingston sister who grabbed his hand as he passed the blackjack table.

  “Oh, I’m going to miss that.” She shot him her very best smile in return. “I can’t believe our vacation is up tomorrow.”

  “I hope you enjoyed it.” Which one was this? he wondered vaguely. Cindi? Sandi? Candi?

  “Every minute. We’re talking about doing it again next year. It’s so much fun.”

  “We aim to please. Any luck?”

  She kept her baby blues on his. “Not as much as I’d like.”

  He had to laugh. “I meant with the cards.”

  “There either, but it’s been entertaining. I don’t suppose you ever get to Philadelphia.”

  “I’ve been known to.” Then he saw Cat swagger into the casino and everything else went out of his mind. “Excuse me.”

  The blonde watched him walk away, blew out a wistful sigh. “Some people have all the luck,” she said to the dealer.

  Cat watched him, too, studying the way he moved, the way he strode through the tables, past the machines, through the tempting, seductive sounds of money being won and lost.

  Oh yeah, she mused. This was definitely his turf.

  “Hey.” He took her hand, toyed with her fingers. “You never come in here.”

  “No reason to. I don’t—”

  “Gamble as a rule. Ever break the rules?”

  “All the time, sugar.”

  “Want a game?”

  “I’ve only got twenty till cue.”

  “Time enough.” He spotted an empty table, pleased she’d chosen the early hour to wander in. “Come on. I come from a long line of blackjack dealers.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Well, a short line then. My mother was a dealer. That’s how she met my father.”

  “Really?” It intrigued her enough to let him draw her over. “And who won?”

  “Both of t
hem. I’ll spot you a hundred.”

  “I can cover my bets.”

  “Fine, you’re on credit then.” With nimble fingers he counted out and stacked her chips. “You look especially delicious tonight, darling.”

  What the hell, she thought, and slid onto a stool. Her midnight blue dress clung to every curve and shimmered under the lights. “Last night before we dock. I always want to leave them happy.” She nudged a five-dollar chip onto her mark. “Deal ’em, sugar.”

  He dealt her a five and a seven, gave himself a facing ace. “Possible blackjack. Insurance?”

  “I don’t believe in it. Hit me.” She took an eight and smiled.

  “The hand is twenty.” He flipped over his down card. “Dealer has seven or seventeen, takes ten, busts on twenty-four.” He slid her winnings over, slipped more cards out of the shoe. “How about a date later, beautiful?”

  “Maybe.” She glanced at her cards. Eighteen. And his. A six showing. “I’ll hold.”

  “Holds on eighteen, dealer has fifteen, wins with nineteen.” And grinned as he turned up a four.

  “Do you often call your shots?”

  “As often as possible.”

  He was good. She imagined he was good at whatever game he played. But then, so was she. And most often she played to survive, so she never, never wagered anything she couldn’t afford to lose.

  Not money, not time. And never her heart. But when she laid down her stake, she played to win. “Deal,” she said, and smiled at him.

  He nipped her the next three hands running and had her eyeing him narrowly.

  “Nothing up my sleeve,” he assured her. “We run a clean game.”

  “Can’t beat the house.”

  “You don’t gamble,” he pointed out. “You hold too easily, aren’t willing to chance the cards.”

  “I can’t control the cards, especially if I’m not dealing them.”

  “Want to switch? Come on.”

  She started to refuse, then shrugged her shoulders. “Why not? You never know when you might need a fallback career.” Amused, she walked around to stand behind the table, scanned the casino. “Different perspective, isn’t it?”

  “Same game, same odds.”

  “Only now they favor me. I’ll spot you, sugar. Place your bet.”

  He slid one of her chips over, waited for his cards. She looked entirely too pleased with herself when she turned up the corner of her hold card under her nine.

  He had two eights. “Split. Deal me two more.”

  “I know how it’s done,” she said dryly. Then lifted a brow when he tapped on the hand now showing sixteen. “You’re going to hit that?”

  “That’s right. A five will do.” When she dealt him a four and frowned, he nodded. “Close enough. Hold here, hit there,” he said, and gestured to the second hand of thirteen. She topped it with an eight and swore under her breath.

  “Nineteen loses,” she muttered, flipping over her queen. It wasn’t just the cards, she decided. She kept losing ground to him; he kept tempting her to risk a little more. And every time she did, every time she let herself sink into him, it was harder to remember how much it cost when your hand—or your heart—went bust.

  “You’re good, Blade.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Well, since you’ve just taken me for thirty bucks in about five minutes, I’m done. At this rate I’ll lose my shirt before cue.”

  “We can play strip blackjack later.”

  She laughed, and bent down to lean on the table. That was a game she could afford—where the odds were even between them. “I just came in to tell you I’ve got a little surprise for your grandfather at the end of the second show. Thought you might get a kick out of it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Come see for yourself.” She slid her eyes to the side and smiled smugly at the Kingston blonde. “If you can tear yourself away from your harem.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m all yours.”

  “Right.” She chuckled, patted his cheek, then straightened. “We’ll settle up later. Got to go earn my losses.”

  She walked out with a not-so-subtle swing of hips that had him blowing out a breath. Yes indeed, he mused, they would definitely settle up later.

  She finished up the second show, well aware that Duncan had slipped in and was now seated at the table with his grandparents. She’d worked out the timing with Anna, and stepped out of the lights as the crowd began to thin.

  Some would remain, back at the bar or scattered at tables, but she considered this a personal performance. And one that oddly had little wings of nerves fluttering in her gut.

  “Don’t know what your problem is, boy,” Daniel muttered. “That woman’s made for you.”

  “Daniel.” Anna only sighed. She’d come to the same conclusion herself and could have bopped him for saying anything that might tip the balance the wrong way. “Leave Duncan alone. He’s a man grown.”

  “My point! My point exactly. When is he going to do his duty? When is he going to act like a man and settle down, I want to know? He lets that lass slip through his fingers, well, he’s—he’s no blood of mine. Hah!” Folding his arms, Daniel sat back and glared.

  Knowing it would make his grandfather twitch with envy, Duncan drew out a slim cigar, ran it lovingly through his fingers. Then clamping it between his teeth, he lit it, puffed contentedly while Daniel’s blue eyes glittered with annoyance and desire.

  “Who said I was going to let her slip through my fingers?”

  “If you’d use the eyes in your head, you’d see …” Trailing off, Daniel backtracked, sucked in air, then slapped Duncan hard on the back. “Well then! Hah! You see, Anna, didn’t I tell you the boy was bright? Didn’t I tell you not to fret?”

  “Constantly, Daniel.” Adoring them both, Anna laid her hands over theirs. “I like her very much, Duncan.”

  “I know. Now keep him out of it, will you, so I can make it work.”

  “Keep me out!” Insulted, Daniel boomed the protest through the room, making the few heads left in the lounge turn. “Why, you pip-squeak, you wouldn’t be in it if I hadn’t—”

  “What, Daniel?” Anna said it sweetly, with a soft smile on her face. “You didn’t interfere or meddle again, did you?”

  “Ah. No, I did nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just saying … what I’m saying.” He thought it best to retire from the field. “We should be getting along, Anna. You need your rest.”

  “I’ll just finish my wine.” She lifted her glass, shifting in her chair—the signal she’d worked out earlier with Cat.

  Taking her cue, Cat stepped into the key light. “Daniel MacGregor? I have something for you.”

  “Well, what are you doing skulking around then? Come over here and give it to me.”

  “It comes from here. And from here,” she added, touching a hand to her heart.

  She sang for him, the old Scottish ballad “Loch Lomond.” Because she kept her eyes on him, she saw his begin to swim. And felt her own sting in response.

  Duncan had accepted, or nearly, that he was in love with her. But as he sat there, as he saw the softness that came over her as she sang for the man who held such a large piece of his heart, he realized he’d only been falling up to that point.

  Now he tumbled clean.

  It wasn’t the jolt he’d thought it would be. Wasn’t the shock to the system he’d always imagined. It was warm and clear, with her at the core of it. He saw his life change, and was Scot enough to accept it had been heading there all along.

  Now, somewhere, he had to win her.

  Beside him, Daniel sniffed, fumbled for his handkerchief, then blew his nose heartily when the song ended. “Now, that’s a lass,” he managed. “That’s a fine lass.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Daniel.” She stepped over to bend and kiss his cheek. “I’m really going to miss you.”

  “There now.” And to her surprise and weepy pleasure, he dre
w her into his lap to cuddle.

  “Duncan, take a walk with me,” Anna murmured. She took his hand, drawing him away from the table. “That girl needs love.” She said it softly as Duncan glanced back at the couple holding each other at the edge of the stage.

  “I have it for her. I just have to convince her to take it.”

  Anna squeezed his hand. “My money’s on you.”

  * * *

  He knew she was tired, could see it in her eyes as he walked her to their cabin. He doubted she let her emotions tip over and out very often. For a woman like Cat, Duncan imagined the experience was exhausting.

  “That was a beautiful thing you did for my grandfather.”

  “I’m nuts about him. Seriously nuts about him.” It frightened her, more than a little, that she’d come to care so much about people who could never be hers.

  “I’d say the feeling’s mutual. If it wasn’t for my grandmother and oh, close to seventy years of age difference, I’d be worried.”

  She laughed, settled again, and struggled back a yawn. “I wouldn’t be too sure of myself, even as things stand.” She stepped in ahead of him when he unlocked the cabin, then blinked in surprise at the glow of candlelight, the glint of crystal.

  “What’s all this, Blade?”

  “I thought you might break another rule.” He moved to the ice bucket, took out the chilling bottle.

  “Champagne?” She glanced at the label, whistled. “The good stuff, too. What’s the occasion?”

  “We’ll get to that. Would you like a glass?”

  “I could probably choke one down, thanks. Is this why you didn’t want me to change after the show? So I’d be dressed for fancy French grapes?”

  “No, I didn’t want you to change because I want to undress you. Eventually.” He opened the bottle with an expert twist and cheerful pop.

  He poured two flutes, handed her one, then tapped rims. “To those amazing pipes of yours.”

  She laughed, sipped. “How could I not drink to that?”

  “We’re coming up on the last week of your contract.”

  She was grateful she’d swallowed or she might very well have choked. “Yes, I know. It’s been a good run.”