by Bobbi Smith
But it was too late.
With unerring precision, Nick's lips found hers and began to plunder their softness. It was a fiery kiss, an explosion of wonder that rocked them both. Gently he urged her closer, and instinctively they molded together, full breasts to hard-muscled chest.
For one long, sweet moment, Jordan let herself enjoy the embrace. But just as she was about to loop her arms around his neck to melt even closer to him, her sanity returned. She couldn't allow this to happen!
"No!" she said, backing away from him. She was afraid of what he was making her feel, and she had to fight it.
"Jordan?" Nick frowned, startled by her reaction and by his own. That one long kiss had left his body throbbing with excitement.
"How could you?" she cried. "You told me this arrangement would be in...name... only!"
Nick's gaze hardened. "You needn't worry, Jordan. I'm a man of honor."
Not worry, indeed! Jordan was still tingling all over from the effect of Nick's caresses. She took a deep breath and stood on tiptoe to look into his dark, passion-filled eyes. "It's not your honor that's worrying me," she whispered.
HALF-MOON RANCH: HUNTER'S MOON
FOREVER AUTUMN
LONE WARRIOR
EDEN
WANTON SPLENDOR
SWEET SILKEN BONDAGE
THE HALF-BREED (SECRET FIRES)
WESTON'S LADY
HALF-BREED'S LADY
OUTLAW'S LADY
FORBIDDEN FIRES
RAPTURE'S RAGE
THE LADY & THE TEXAN
RENEGADE'S LADY
THE LADY'S HAND
LADY DECEPTION
The Brides of Durango series by Bobbi Smith:
ELISE
TESSA
JENNY
BOBBI SMITH
A special note of thanks to my friends at The Difference Cathy, Mary, MJ, Mary Lew, Sherry and Tookie and to my,friends at G&S Printing Gary, Janet and Mike.
Up River From New Orleans
Early Spring, 1849
Attorney Aaron O'Neil was a man of mild, goodnatured temperament but today his normally calm expression was tinged with urgency as his driver finally turned the carriage into the long, treeshrouded drive that led to the Kane plantationRiverwood. They were here ...at last! The cold, soaking, miserable rain that had begun soon after they'd left New Orleans had slowed their progress considerably, and though the trip had really taken only two hours, to Aaron it had seemed an eternity. As he waited for the carriage to travel the last half mile to the house, the message he'd received that morning from Charles Kane kept repeating itself in his mind.
Come at once... There is a matter of utmost importance that must be dealt with immediately and in the strictest confidence...
Aaron was filled with dread as he thought of the letter he now carried in his waistcoat pocket. It was not like Charles to make such an unusual request, and for that reason Aaron had immediately canceled all his appointments and made the trip. Some thing must be wrong... terribly wrong.
As the carriage neared the main house, Aaron let his sharp-eyed, bespectacled gaze sweep over the immaculate grounds of the pillared, white-washed brick mansion and then beyond to the greening fields and well-maintained outbuildings. He searched for some clue to the problem behind the cryptic note, but as far as he could tell there was nothing amiss. Outwardly, everything appeared normal.
Riverwood was one of the most successful plantations in the area, and it looked it. Charles had done a marvelous job of carving his own empire out of the Louisiana wilderness, and now with his son, Dominic, working at his side, it would likely remain a most productive operation.
"We're here, Mr. Aaron," Slidell, his driver, announced as the carriage drew to a halt before the house.
Aaron climbed down as soon as his driver opened the door. He thanked Slidell distractedly as he paused in the slow drizzle to take a long look at the beautiful house. The magnificence of Riverwood never failed to impress him. With its huge columns, wide galleries, and perfectly landscaped lawns, it looked as if it belonged on Mount Olympus, and Aaron wondered, not for the first time, if Charles didn't really consider himself God here. Certainly, all who worked with him knew it was not wise to cross him. Though he was a fair and generous man, he wielded much power and authority and was not afraid to use it.
The rain quickened. Aaron would have liked to remain there taking in the glory of the place a moment longer, but he was forced to seek shelter on the gallery. He mounted the steps quickly, removing his spectacles and drying them as he went. He was pleased to find the Kane family's butler, Weddington, already at the door, holding it wide and smiling in warm welcome.
"Come on inside out of this nasty old weather, Mr. Aaron," Weddington said. "They've been expecting you."
"They? Oh, is Dominic here, too?" Aaron asked as he entered the main hall and allowed the servant to take his damp cloak.
"No, sir. Mr. Nick isn't at home right now," the butler answered quickly, and then just as quickly turned away from Aaron, acting almost as if he was afraid he'd said too much.
Aaron frowned as he put his spectacles back on. Since the death of Charles's wife, Andrea, many years before, it had only been the two men, father and son, living at the plantation. So, if Dominic wasn't the one with Charles, then who was? Curious, he hurried to follow Weddington down the hall. The servant gave one short knock at the study door and then opened it for Aaron to enter.
"Thank you, Weddington."
"You're welcome, sir," Weddington replied as he quietly shut the door behind him.
"Aaron ...I'm glad you could come..." Charles spoke from where he stood. There was no lamp lighted in the dark, wood-paneled study, and he remained a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette against the rain-spattered, floor-to-ceiling casement window behind his desk.
"You know you have only to ask and my time is yours," Aaron replied, taking a step into the room. There was something strained in the way his friend was holding himself so rigidly upright, and he wanted to move even closer in order to read his expression in the gloom of the room.
"You know Dr. Michael Williams, don't you?" Charles asked, gesturing toward the wing-backed leather chair before his desk where the physician was seated.
"Dr. Williams?" The doctor's presence startled Aaron, and he glanced nervously in his direction. "Yes, yes, of course. Good to see you, Michael..."
Williams, a tall, thin, studious-looking man of fifty, rose from where he'd been seated to shake his hand. "Aaron."
The perfunctory greeting done, the attorney's glance slid back to Charles. He hadn't seen him in almost a month, and, standing this close to him now, he could see the difference in his appearance and it shocked him. Charles Kane had always been a vibrant, active man, and the change in him was dramatic. Aaron wondered how it was possible for his hair to have turned almost completely silver in such a short period of time. Deep lines of fatigue were etched in the planter's face, and there was a soul-shattering weariness in his eyes that had never been there before.
"Charles, what is it? What's wrong? I know you wouldn't have called me out here unless it was serious. Is Riverwood in trouble?" Aaron knew that, next to his son, the plantation was the most important thing in Charles's life. He lived and breathed for Riverwood.
A sad smile carved its way across his craggy features. "I wish it were as simple as that, Aaron," he said with a slow sigh. "Please, sit down, and I'll explain everything."
Charles settled into his own chair as his two guests sat in the matching wing-backed chairs before him.
"I asked you to come this morning because I knew Michael would be here."
The lawyer glanced from his friend to the doctor seated beside him. "I don't understand..."
"There's a change I need
to make in my will, and I need to have it executed right away."
"Your will?"
"Yes, you see, Michael's informed me today that there's no hope. I have less than a year to live, and I have to do something about Dominic."
"Wait..." Aaron held up a hand in immediate denial of what he'd just been told as he riveted the physician with a challenging look. "What do you mean, he's got less than a year to live?"
"I'm sorry, Aaron, but there's nothing more anyone can do. Charles has already seen the best doctors in the country."
"What is it?"
Charles lifted a troubled gaze to his friend's face. "It's my heart, Aaron, and there's no real point in discussing it further. Suffice it to say that I've done everything humanly possible to beat this thing, but for the first time in my life I've come up against something I can't defeat... or buy." A bitter smile twisted his mouth as a flicker of painful emotion shone in his eyes.
"Charles.. .I..."
"Don't say anything, my friend. I'm dealing with this the best way I can, but there is something I must do. I have to make that change in my will."
"Why?" Aaron countered, forcing himself to con centrate on business. "I thought you were completely satisfied with what we laid out last year."
"A year ago I thought I'd live forever," he responded brusquely. "Now, I know I won't."
"What do you have in mind?" He couldn't imagine what Charles wanted to alter. In the original document, he'd left everything to Dominic, and deservedly so.
"I want to add this single clause..."
Charles handed him up a neatly written paper, and Aaron quickly scanned it. When he was finished, astonishment showed plainly on his features.
"You can't be serious. This is blackmail..."
"I prefer to think of it as an inducement," he replied. "Michael says I may last a year, but we really don't know. I could have even less time, and I can't afford to sit by and watch my son waste his life."
"Does Dominic know about your condition?"
"No, but I intend to tell him just as soon as he gets back.. .from wherever the hell he went!"
"He's gone?"
"Again," Charles stated flatly. "He left a week ago with scarcely a word. I was riding the fields, and when I returned he'd already gone. He told Weddington he had to go out of town for a few days and that he'd be back as soon as he could. Period. I have no idea how to reach him, and this isn't the first time it's happened."
"Was it some kind of emergency, maybe?"
"Who knows? Even when the boy's here, half the time he's out carousing until all hours."
Aaron wanted to remind Charles that, at age twenty-six, Dominic was no longer a boy, but he didn't want to anger Charles. It was obvious that he was upset by what he considered his son's rakish ways. "He's a young man, Charles. As I recall, you've told me about some wild times you yourself had in your youth. Aren't you being a little rough on him? I've seen him work right by your side for days on end to help save the crop, and he's a miracle worker where your horses are concerned. Riverwood boasts the best stables in six parishes because of his efforts."
That may be, but he still spends too much time drinking and gambling with his friends."
"You know Dominic loves Riverwood as much as you do," Aaron chided.
"That's precisely what I'm counting on," he declared as he pointed at the paper Aaron was still holding. "If this is what it takes to make him settle down, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever I have to do to guarantee Riverwood's safety. I can't risk his losing everything I've worked so hard for. This is his heritage. It's time he grew up and accepted his responsibilities."
"But not like this..." Aaron read the short, concise paragraph out loud.
"In order to validate this will and so claim his inheritance upon my death, Dominic Kane, my son, must make a suitable marriage by six months from today, March 15, 1849. Should he fail to do so by September 15 of same year, I declare that upon my demise all my worldly possessions shall be sold and the money given to the church in loving memory of my wife, Andrea. Signed, Charles Kane."
He looked up, hoping to see doubt in his friend's expression, but there was only stony determination mirrored there. "You won't change your mind?"
"I can't. Too much depends on this. I won't be able to rest easy until I know that he's settled down."
Aaron studied Charles's implacable features a moment longer, then acquiesced without another word. Charles hadn't asked him for his opinion. He wanted him to do his job, and being the professional he was, Aaron knew he would, even if he didn't agree with it.
"When do you plan to tell Dominic?"
"I'm going to have a long talk with my son just as soon as he returns." He looked disgusted as he thought again of his absence.
"I'll see to the changes right away, then, and get a copy of the revised document back to you within the week. Will that be satisfactory?"
The planter nodded, satisfied. "That'll be fine."
Much later, after both Aaron and Michael had taken their leave to return to town, Charles stood alone once more at the window in his study. Staring out across his flowering gardens and the lush fields beyond, he poignantly recalled how he and Andrea had fought so hard to tame the land, to make it what it was today. He remembered how proud they'd been when they'd moved into their first house-the small two-room cabin that had been their home for several years before the crops had started to pay off and they'd managed to build the mansion. He remembered the joy they'd shared at the birth of their son, and sorrowfully he remembered, too, how ten years later Andrea had died of the fever as he'd held her in his arms.
A deep, lonely longing filled Charles, and he drew a ragged breath. Since that day sixteen years ago when he'd lost Andrea forever, he'd dedicated himself completely to raising his son and to building up Riverwood in memory of his beloved wife. Soon, however, Nick would have to take over, and he wondered if his roguish offspring could find it in himself to settle down and handle the full responsibility.
Charles reflected on his own misspent youth and knew that Aaron had been right. In his younger years he had been just as wild as Nick, but finding and falling in love with Andrea had been the making of him. Right now, he saw Nick making no effort to meet the right kind of woman to marry. Perhaps if Nick married, he'd become the fine man Charles always knew he could be. He hoped so... With a heavy heart, he turned away from the raindrenched landscape, wondering all the while where his errant son was, how much longer he'd be gone, and how he was going to react to the ultimatum when he did return.
Meanwhile, Near Havana, Cuba...
Night was falling across the land. Two undetected figures, one male, one female, tied their three horses to a tree and then moved off through the thick undergrowth. The girl, her trim figure disguised in baggy, dark-colored clothing, her long raven tresses tied back in a single braid, led the way. They knew that the element of surprise was the only thing they had on their side, so they were careful not to make any noise as they made their way to the hilltop that overlooked the large hacienda spread out in the valley below.
Halfway to the top, the young woman paused and glanced back to make sure her companion was keeping up. She was surprised to find him close behind her, moving through the tangle of foliage with such predatory male grace that she wondered suddenly if he were not accustomed to being in such untamed surroundings. There was an aura of danger about him now that she hadn't been aware of before. Her gaze went over him quickly, taking in his broad shoulders and lean, dark-clad body and the gun he wore low on his hip with casual ease. His hair was as black as a moonless night and his tanned features were strong, almost hawkish. She imagined that many women thought him handsome, but in truth she knew that it was the sense of power he exuded-and not any classical perfection in his outward appearance-that drew women to him. He would make a formidable foe to man and woman alike, and she was glad he was with her tonight. Perhaps, just perhaps, their daring plan would work. The fear that too much time had passed, thou
gh, haunted her.
She started off once more and didn't stop again until they'd made it to the crest. After reaching the best vantage point from which to study the layout of the buildings below, she sought cover in the thick greenery.
"You're sure this is where they're holding him, Anna?" the man asked in a low voice, his gaze riveted on the scene below as he joined her.
"I'm as sure as I can be, Nick," she replied quietly. "But it's been over two months..."
"I know." His voice was flat as he worried about his friend, American agent Slater MacKenzie, held captive in the compound below.
"That night they came for Slater, I was in my own room down the hall at the hotel. There was screaming and fighting.. .1 came running out to help just as they were dragging him and Francesca away."
"Francesca..." Nick groaned the name of Slater's beautiful Cuban wife. "You're sure about her..."
Anna nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow. "The word came the day after the attack. She was killed..."
Nick's expression grew bleak for a moment, then turned grim.
"I followed them here," she continued, "and I believe they're keeping him locked up there, in that house." She pointed to a small, windowless outbuilding where two heavily armed men stood guard.
"Why didn't they just kill him?" Nick glanced at her as he spoke, wondering how his friend had gotten involved in this. It wasn't the first time Slater had needed his help. There had been several times in the past when he'd had to bail him out of trouble, but this was the first time he was likely to end up getting killed from one of his adventures.
"The Peninsulars are evil and vicious," she said, filled with hatred for the Spanish-born ruling class. "Armando Carlanta, the man who had Slater brought here and is responsible for Francesca's death, is probably the worst of the lot. But though they are cruel and greedy, they are far from stupid. It would be no small thing for them to kill an American agent. Slater's wife's death he could explain away as an unfortunate accident, but an agent's death would be investigated. Besides, Slater's more valuable to them alive. They want names from him-the names of other agents working in Cuba and the names of those of us who oppose Spanish rule and are willing to fight for our freedom. God knows what they've done to him to make him talk..."