The Enemy's Daughter

by Linda Turner

  The truth crept out of the darkness of the night to steal the air right out of her lungs. No! she wanted to cry. She couldn’t possibly love him. She didn’t know anything about him—except that he was a man she couldn’t trust. For reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, he wanted to bring her father down. How could she love a man who wanted to hurt her father?

  She had to be mistaken, she told herself. She was attracted to him, that was all. If she was in love, it was just with the idea of being in love. They’d made love, and she’d allowed herself to get caught up in feelings she had no business feeling. She couldn’t, wouldn’t make that mistake again. Because the time was quickly approaching when she would have to call her father and tell him her suspicions about Steve. Then her father would fire him, and he would be gone.

  Not yet, she thought, swallowing a sob. She couldn’t lose him just yet. Not when this was the only time they would ever have alone together. One week—that was all she was asking for—to take care of him and spend nearly every waking and sleeping moment with him. What could it hurt? Then she would do the right thing and call her father.

  Her decision made, she checked to make sure he was resting as comfortably as possible, then laid down beside him. She’d just rest until he needed her again, she thought, and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. Almost immediately, she was asleep.

  The night passed in wave after wave of dark colors. Drifting in and out of consciousness, his body racked with pain, Steve thought he was dreaming. He had to be. Lise was there beside him in bed, at her house, and she was wearing a powder blue nightgown that would have made his mouth water if he hadn’t been hurting so badly. And she seemed to know that. Her blue eyes soft with understanding, she bathed and soothed and eased his every discomfort with a gentle touch, and he never had to say a word. She knew where he hurt.

  And when he finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, she still stayed by his side. He could feel her beside him in his dreams, stretched out next to him, stirring only when she felt him stir. Then, once again, her hands were there to ease his pain as she murmured to him quietly.

  Heaven, he thought sleepily. He’d died and gone to some kind of weird heaven.

  The sun was already climbing into the sky when Steve came slowly awake the next morning. His entire body throbbed with a dull ache, but the fog shrouding his brain had finally lifted. The second he opened his eyes and saw Lise asleep on the bed beside him, jagged, blurry images of the night—and the beating—came rushing back. He had little memory of the drive from camp to the house, but he remembered every blow of the thrashing he’d taken, and who’d hurt him.

  Stay away from Lise. The message had been loud and clear, the threat behind it impossible to ignore. Or else. If he didn’t take the hint, the price he paid would be much worse than a beating.

  He liked to think he was a man with more than his share of common sense. He didn’t need another beating to know that he was outnumbered, and this was a battle he couldn’t win. So the wise thing to do was to bow to the power of persuasion and leave the lady alone.

  He knew that, accepted that and didn’t for a minute fool himself into thinking he was going to be able to do that. Not now that he’d made love to her. He still didn’t trust her and didn’t know if he ever would. When he got back on his feet, he’d arrest Simon the first chance he got, and he’d take Lise down with Simon if he found out she was involved in her old man’s activities. But until that happened, he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay away from her. Not yet.

  He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d stolen his heart right out of his chest. And right or wrong, that was something he was going to have to live with.

  Chapter 10

  “Are you comfortable? Can I bring you anything?”

  “I’m fine, Lise. You don’t have to keep waiting on me this way. I can get what I need.”

  “No! You need to rest. I’ll get some more books from the study for you.”

  Afraid that if she ever let him get out of bed he would go back to work before he was completely healed, she hurried to the study for several of the mysteries her father collected. She was back almost immediately with the last three he hadn’t read. Who would have guessed he was such a voracious reader? Over the course of the last few days, he’d consumed everything he could get his hands on.

  “Here you go,” she said brightly. “After you finish those, you can read the labels of the canned goods in the pantry. You’ve read everything else.”

  Grinning, he made no apologies for the fact that he liked to read. “I could go back to work, you know. I’m feeling much better.”

  “Tomorrow,” she said promptly. “We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow.”

  She’d put him off for the past three days with the same excuse, and each day, it was harder to keep him in bed. She believed he was feeling better, but he still looked awful. Covered in bruises that seemed to grow worse with the passage of time, he was now every conceivable shade of purple and green. So she kept refusing to let him go back to work and spent her days taking care of him and finding ways to keep him entertained.

  And with each passing day, they grew closer.

  They didn’t talk about it—they didn’t dare!—but Lise knew he was as aware as she was of the quiet intimacy that was developing between them. She touched him, and her heart pounded. His fingers brushed hers, and she only had to look into his eyes to know that he was remembering, like she, those hushed moments in the cave when they’d made love.

  It was a dangerous game they were playing, and no one knew that better than Lise. She hadn’t forgotten that he was her father’s enemy and had apparently come here to bring him down, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. They had these days stolen out of time, and for a little while, at least, it was easy to pretend they were the only two people in the world. There was no subterfuge, no secrets, no lies. He was simply Steve Trace, cowboy from the States and the man she was falling in love with. Nothing else mattered. There would be time enough to call her father and tell him what was going on once Steve was completely healed and back on his feet.

  As hard as she tried to pretend otherwise, however, they were quickly running out of time. Four days after they arrived at the ranch, she could no longer ignore the fact that he was just about back to his old self. Oh, the bruises were more colorful than ever, but they would disappear with time, and he’d regained his strength. He insisted on getting out of bed, and spent the day restlessly following her around the house, helping her cook and clean while he grumbled that he had nothing to do. Left with no choice, Lise was forced to concede that he really was ready to go back to work.

  And it broke her heart. She was losing him, and there was nothing she could do about it. Loyalty and love for her father forced her to warn him about the traitor in their midst, and once she did that, she knew she could kiss Steve goodbye. Because even though she ran the station, her father wouldn’t tolerate any kind of betrayal from an employee once he found out about it. He would get rid of him so fast, Steve wouldn’t know what hit him. And once again, she would be alone. Just as she’d always been.

  Her heart already heavy with the loss of what might have been, she couldn’t fight the sadness that engulfed her. By the end of the day, all she wanted to do was escape to her room and cry her eyes out. She didn’t, however, because her pride would never allow her to wallow in self-pity. So she forced a bright smile and acted as if she was thrilled that he was better and they both could get back to their regular routines.

  “I talked to Tuck this afternoon,” she told him over dinner. “He and the boys are just about through with the roundup. They should be dragging in here sometime tomorrow afternoon. The day after that, my father’s flying in for the barbecue we always have to celebrate the end of the roundup. After that, you can go back to work.”

  She wasn’t brimming over with enthusiasm at the idea, but Steve couldn’t say he blamed her. He didn’t want this time they had together to e
nd, either. But if Simon was expected the day after tomorrow, everything would end then.

  He had to call Belinda and let her know what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet. Time was slipping through his fingers, and he wanted to grab onto it with both hands. Later, he promised himself, he would call Belinda. After dinner.

  But after dinner, he helped Lise clear the table and do the dishes, and all he could think of was that this was probably their last night together. When they finished the dishes and both grabbed the dish towel at the same time to dry their hands, he instantly began to pull her toward him. Suddenly, nothing seemed so important as touching, holding her, kissing her.

  His eyes alight with promise, he said, “I want you.”

  His boldness shocked her. “We shouldn’t,” she gasped. But when he pulled gently on the towel, tugging her toward him, she didn’t let go. “Steve—”

  “I love it when you say my name all soft and sexy like that,” he growled, pulling her into his arms. “Say it again.”

  “Oh, Steve.”

  He assured himself he just needed a kiss, but the second his mouth settled on hers, he knew he’d never again be content with just that when he had her so close. Need clawing at him with sharp talons, he tangled his hands in the fiery strands of her hair and took the kiss deeper. And still it wasn’t enough.

  The guest room was just steps away. With a little urging on his part, he could have had her there in ten seconds flat. But he needed more than that. He needed to make love to her in her room, her bed, so that she would remember him there long after he was gone.

  Dragging his mouth from hers abruptly, he whispered, “Let’s go upstairs to your room. I want to make love to you.”

  Aching for him, needing him more than she needed her next breath, Lise wouldn’t have argued if he’d said he wanted to make love to her on the roof. Taking his hand, she led him upstairs to her bedroom.

  She started to turn the light on, but his hand was there before hers in the dark, stopping her. “The moon’s out,” he said huskily. “That’s all we need.”

  All her attention focused on him, she’d never noticed the moonlight streaming through the open window and across her bed. It looked like something out of a romantic dream. A soft breeze stirred the gossamer curtains at the window, and the bedding was already turned back, revealing her favorite lace-trimmed sheets and fluffy pillows. With no effort whatsoever, she could see the two of them lying there together, making love.

  “Steve.”

  That was all she could say, just his name, but he must have sensed the longing in her heart. With a quiet murmur, he leaned down and swept her off her feet. A heartbeat later, he carried her to the bed and laid her in the middle of the mattress. Before she could call his name again, he followed her down, his mouth tender and urgent on hers as he reached for the buttons of her blouse.

  She loved the feel of his hands on her. He was so gentle, so tender, she could have wept with the sweetness of it. Her clothes disappeared with a whisper in the night, and just that easily, she was bathed in moonlight. She could feel the touch of it on her skin, setting her aglow as his hands moved slowly over her, exploring every inch of her.

  Need settled low in her belly, and with a soft moan, she kissed him hungrily and ached for more. She needed to touch him as he touched her, to trace the long, hard length of him with her hands and commit every second of their loving to memory. Because this was probably the last time she would ever get to love him.

  Her heart flinched at the thought, and she quickly pushed it aside. She wouldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t let the loneliness of the future ruin the wonder of this precious moment. They had today, and that was all she would think of—the two of them together.

  With eager hands, she pulled his clothes from him so she could touch him as she longed to. Then with slow, deliberate strokes, she set about driving him slowly out of his mind.

  It didn’t take much.

  The man was amazingly sensitive to her touch. She only had to draw her fingers down his back and over his hips to drag a groan from him. A kiss on the side of his neck made him shudder. Delighted, she would have kissed her way down his chest to his thundering heart, but he stopped her before she’d hardly begun. With a low growl, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him in a dizzy rush that had her gasping in surprise.

  “Steve!”

  “There you go again,” he said with a raspy chuckle. “Say it again.”

  She couldn’t deny him. With her lying on top of him, his hands had access to every inch of her, and he delighted in taking advantage of her position. He touched her in places she would have sworn weren’t the least bit sensitive, then his mouth followed the trail his hands had set. Just that easily, he had her calling his name.

  “Steve. Oh, Steve!”

  He might have been able to hang on to what was left of his self-control if she hadn’t chosen that moment to touch him just the way he was touching her. But she was a quick learner, and with a touch that was petal soft, she ran her fingertips over him lightly, slowly, seductively. Pleasure streaking through him, loving what she was doing to him, he told himself he could handle this. Then her mouth joined in the teasing. In the time it took to draw in a sharp breath, she had him right where she wanted—groaning and out of his mind for her.

  There was no time for teasing after that. His blood roaring in his ears, his heart hammering against his ribs, he hurriedly took care of protection, linked his fingers with hers and rolled her under him. She was still gasping when he slid into her.

  “Steve!”

  No woman had ever come so close to bringing him to release simply by calling his name. She moved under him, with him, and what was left of his self-control unraveled. He was on fire for her in the moonlight. Just her. His breath tearing through his lungs, he raced with her through the darkness, every nerve ending in his body tight with need. Then, just when he thought he couldn’t last another second, she shattered.

  Her cry of release was his undoing. Following her over the edge, he wanted to tell her how much he loved what she did to him, what they did to each other, how no one had ever destroyed him so completely. But in the end, he could only manage one word. Just her name. “Lise.”

  This was killing him.

  He watched her slip out of the bedroom dressed in nothing but his shirt to get them a snack from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but feel like the lowest heel on earth. When Simon flew in the day after tomorrow, Steve was going to bring her and her father’s world tumbling down. And although he knew he was doing the right thing, the only thing he could do, that didn’t make him feel any better. He’d gone and done the one thing he’d sworn he wasn’t going to do. He’d fallen in love with her, and it was tearing him apart.

  How had he let this happen?

  He wanted to believe she’d deliberately said or done something to seduce him, but looking back on his time at the station, he was forced to admit he’d been taken with her from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. And the attraction had only grown stronger with each passing day.

  When Simon showed up, though, it would end.

  If he’d had a choice of whether to bring the bastard down or not, that might have changed everything. But there was no choice—not where Simon was concerned. He wasn’t just a danger to Jonah and the entire SPEAR organization, he was a threat to everything that was good and right in the world, and he had to be brought down. At any cost. Even if that cost was the love of a good woman.

  And she was, Steve knew, a good woman. If she was caught up in her father’s nefarious dealings, he had to believe it was only because she didn’t realize the extent of the bastard’s wickedness. When the truth finally came out and she discovered just what kind of man Simon really was, maybe then she wouldn’t blame Steve too much for his part in his downfall.

  But even if she hated his guts, he still had a mission to complete.

  Slipping out of bed, he pulled his wallet fro
m his jeans, found his phone card among his credit cards and pressed in the code for Belinda. When she came on the line, there was no need to talk in code. Lise would be downstairs for some time, out of earshot, and he couldn’t take a chance that Belinda might misunderstand. “Simon will be home the day after tomorrow for a barbecue he always gives after the roundup,” he said flatly. “I want backup waiting nearby, no more than ten minutes away.”

  “I’ll wait for your signal,” she assured him. “Where are you now?”

  “The main house,” he replied, and told her about the beating he’d suffered at the hands of Lise’s men. “I’m all right, but I think it’s fair to say I’ve convinced the other men that I’m after Lise. They don’t have a clue why I’m really here.”

  “And what about Lise? How is that going?”

  “Fine. She doesn’t suspect anything, either.”

  He would have sworn his voice was perfectly normal, that he didn’t give his feelings away by the slightest change in intonation, but Belinda was nothing if not sharp. “I didn’t think that she did—you’re too good an agent to give yourself away. It was your relationship with her that I was really asking about. You’ve grown closer, haven’t you?”

  He didn’t bother to deny it. What would be the point? “I’m handling it.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said dryly. “You’re getting too close, Steve. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  “I told you—I’m handling it.”

  “I’m trusting you to do that, but I’m reeling you in,” she told him. “You’re in danger of losing your perspective, and that’s when covers get blown. You’ve got forty-eight hours to complete your mission, then I’m pulling you.”

  At any other time, he would have argued with her, though it would have done little good—she was his contact, and it was part of her job to make that call. But in this particular case, forty-eight hours would be more than enough time to complete his mission. This time, he was sure Simon would show up.