He caught it in his hand this time, throwing her off balance and making her hop to keep from tumbling to the floor.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.
“Kicking you. Now, let go of my foot so that I can kick you again.”
“Do I look that stupid?”
“I don’t know,” she replied with a sniff. “It’s dark, and I can’t see your face.”
He released her foot and gave it a shove, sending her stumbling backward several steps before she was able to regain her balance.
He rolled to his side, his back to her, and jerked the sheet up over his shoulder. “Go to bed,” he muttered.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she cried indignantly.
“I just did.”
“Well, I’m not going.”
“Fine. But shut the hell up. I’m trying to sleep.”
She dropped her jaw, sucking in an outraged breath, then snapped it closed again with a click. “I will not shut up. And you can’t make me.”
He inhaled deeply, audibly, then rolled to his back and narrowed an eye at her. “Wanna bet?”
Seething, she hugged her arms beneath her breasts and jerked up her chin. “Just try it, tough guy, and see what happens.”
Their gazes locked and held. Slowly, Link rolled to a sitting position, then to his feet, dropping the sheet as he stood.
Isabelle flicked her gaze down, her eyes widening when she saw that he was nude, then shot her gaze back to his face. She gulped. Swallowed. And tried to remember why she was angry with him.
“I don’t want to have to do this, Isabelle,” he said with regret. “But I will, if you force me.”
She blinked, unsure what he was referring to. “D-do wh-what?”
“Fight you.”
She sputtered a nervous laugh. “Fight me?”
“That is what you intended, wasn’t it, when you told me that I couldn’t make you be quiet?”
“Well, no. I mean, yes!”
He took a step toward her and she took one in retreat.
When he took another threatening step, she pushed out a hand and braced it against his chest, stopping him. “Link, this is ridiculous.”
“Yeah. I thought so, too. But you kept pushing, so here we are.”
“I merely wanted you to talk to me.”
“But I didn’t want to talk, remember? I wanted to sleep.”
“Well, you could have slept, and without interruption, if only you had talked to me earlier this evening.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not making a lick of sense.”
“I’m not making any sense!” she cried, insulted. “And what about you? You have your friend Hank take me for a walk and when I return I’m greeted by a stranger.”
Scowling, he shoved her hand from his chest. “I’m going to bed.”
“No, you most certainly are not!” she cried, and grabbed his arm, jerking him back around to face her. That she could accomplish that feat—even if she’d only been able to do so because she’d caught Link off guard—surprised her…but it didn’t lessen her pleasure any. She snatched her hand from his arm and tucked it beneath her breasts again. “You’re going to tell me what transpired between you and my father this afternoon.”
“I told you. We cleared the air and made plans for tomorrow. End of story.”
“Something happened,” she argued stubbornly. “Or something was said. I know, because you’re acting differently toward me than you were before my father arrived.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “What is it you want, Isabelle? Another toss in the hay?” He took a step toward her. “One last tussle between the sheets before you go back to your royal castle in Pueblo?”
Her blood chilled at his tone, at his total disregard for what they’d shared, something that had meant so very much to her. She pushed her hands out, bracing them against his chest. “No,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice from breaking.
He hooked his hands low on her hips and drew her up hard against him. “Are you sure?” He dipped his head to nip at her lower lip. “I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
She curled her fingers against his chest, her nails digging deep. She wanted to push him away, to rail at him for taking something so special and making it sound so sordid. For taking her heart and ripping it to shreds. But before she could, he crushed his mouth over hers. Even then, she struggled against him, shoving against his chest, clamping her lips together and refusing to respond to his kiss.
But then he moaned low in his throat, his fingers at her hips relaxing, his lips softening, and he lifted his arms to wrap them around her. A hand cupped the back of her neck, and he angled his face, sipping at her mouth, teasing her lips apart with slow, tender, loving strokes of his tongue.
And she was lost.
Hands that had dug into his chest, determined to push him away, opened, palms stroking high, circling his neck. She rose to her toes to meet his kisses, demand more. When he stooped to catch her behind the knees and swing her up into his arms, she melted against his chest.
And when he carried her to the bed they’d shared, the one where she’d willingly and freely given to him her virginity, she clung to him, drawing him with her as he lowered her down. She opened her arms to him, her body…her heart.
And when he filled her, groaned her name against her lips, tears of joy filled her eyes. “I love you, Link,” she whispered.
She felt him stiffen, heard his low moan, and opened her eyes as he lifted his head to peer down at her.
“Don’t,” he said, his voice husky, his face ravaged by an emotion she couldn’t name.
“Don’t?”
He pushed himself away from her and twisted around to sit on the side of the bed, his back to her. “Don’t love me.”
She pressed a hand over her heart, sure that she could hear it breaking.
He rose, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, a habit that she’d learned over the last few days indicated a high level of frustration. In the past, she might have backed away, not wanting to upset him further, cause him distress. But if she’d learned nothing else since leaving the church four days before, she’d learned that she was entitled to a few emotions of her own.
She pushed herself to a sitting position and snatched the sheet up, covering her nudity. “Sorry,” she snapped angrily, “but I don’t have that much control over my emotions.”
He whirled to glare at her. “It’s a mistake. Was from the very beginning. I should never have slept with you.”
“A little late for regrets, wouldn’t you say?” she replied peevishly.
He dragged in a breath, held it, his body quivering, then he forced the breath out slowly, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Oh, please,” she said, and folded her arms beneath her breasts as she turned her face away. “I don’t want or need your pity.”
“I don’t pity you. I’ve never pitied you. I couldn’t.”
She whipped her head around to glare at him. “Then what do you feel for me? Was it all just sex for you? A way to pass the time while you were forced to stay here with me?”
“No one forced me to stay.”
“Then why did you?” she cried.
“Because…because I care for you.”
She willed herself not to cry. “Please don’t attempt to placate me. I’m a big girl. I can handle rejection.”
“Dammit, Isabelle!” he shouted. “I’m not trying to placate you, and I’m not rejecting you.”
She braced a hand against the tangled covers and leaned toward him, clutching the sheet at her breasts. “What do you call it, if not rejection? I told you that I loved you, I offered you my heart and you tossed it back in my face. If that isn’t rejection, then I’d like to know what is.”
“Well, if it is, then I’m doing it out of love, not because I want to hurt you.”
She stilled, her heart seeming to stop, too. Then she shook h
er head, inching back on the bed and away from him. “No. You don’t love me. You couldn’t.”
“And why not?” he shouted. “Do you think you have a monopoly on the emotion? Do you think I would have slept with you, taken your virginity, if I didn’t feel at least something for you?” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Well, you’re wrong,” he growled, before she could answer. “I do love you. But I also know that having a relationship with you outside of this cabin is impossible. It would be insane to even try.”
She stared at him, unable to believe what she’d heard. He loved her? He really loved her? Oh, God, he loved her! “Why?” she whispered. “If you love me, then why can’t we be together? Why does it have to end here?”
“Because it does!” he railed. He tossed a hand at her, gesturing wildly. “You’re Isabelle Fortune and I’m nobody. You’ve lived with wealth and privilege all your life, while I’ve lived in the gutter. I can’t give you the lifestyle you’re accustomed to. I wouldn’t know how, even if I had the means.”
She curled her fingers tighter into the sheet. “You’re wrong, Link,” she said, desperate to make him understand, her body trembling with it. “The money means nothing to me. It never has. It’s you I want. You.”
He dug his fingers through his hair, squeezed at his temples, groaning his frustration, then dropped his hands to his sides. “You think you do,” he said wearily. “And maybe right now that is all you want. But it wouldn’t be long before you would begin to resent me, grow to hate me because of all you’d given up, lost because of me.”
She shook her head. “No, Link. I wouldn’t. I could never hate you.”
She watched his face harden, his eyes grow cold.
“Couldn’t you?” he asked, and took a step toward the bed. He stopped at its side and leaned forward, bracing his hands against the mattress as he shoved his face close to hers. “Remember the man who kidnapped you? The one who dragged you into the van?”
She shrank away from him, shaking her head. “Don’t, Link. You’re frightening me.”
“Good. You need to be scared. Of me. Of men like me. That man was my stepbrother, Isabelle. My stepbrother,” he repeated, letting that revelation soak in. “I knew that he’d kidnapped you. He told me. Called me on the phone and bragged about how he had snatched Hunter Fortune’s daughter right off the street. Easy money, he said. Fortune would pay big bucks to get his little girl back. And he wanted to cut me in on the action.”
She shook her head wildly, inching farther away. “No,” she sobbed. “No!”
“Yes, Isabelle. Yes. He would make the call, demanding the ransom, then set up a place for your father to drop off the cash. A million bucks, Isabelle. A million bucks. More money than I’d ever seen in my life, or probably ever would. And all I had to do for my part was pick up the money from the drop-off point and deliver it to my stepbrother.”
Link could see the fear in her eyes, almost smell it. And he could see the revulsion, as well. Saddened by it, but satisfied that he’d accomplished all he’d set out to do, he pushed himself from the bed and straightened, never once moving his gaze from hers. “Couldn’t hate me, huh?” he said bitterly. “Seems you lied, Isabelle. You lied.”
Seven
It couldn’t be true, she told herself. Link couldn’t possibly have been involved in her kidnapping. Isabelle sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her hands fisted tightly on her lap, her eyes riveted on the road ahead. Even if it truly was his stepbrother who had plucked her from the street, Link couldn’t have had a part in the kidnapping plot. He just couldn’t. Link wasn’t that kind of man.
The men who had captured her were mean. Evil. And Link wasn’t. He was kind and gentle and tender. When he’d brought her to the cabin after she’d wrecked her car in the desert, he’d done so because she’d asked him to, begged him, even. And he’d never once, throughout their four days at the cabin, tried to take advantage of her. Not physically. Not sexually. It was she who had seduced him. All but forced him to make love to her.
Oh, God, she thought, feeling the tears push at her throat. She loved him. In spite of the things he’d told her, she still loved him. And she didn’t believe him. Refused to believe him. He would never have been a part of a plot to harm anyone. Not Link. He’d been nothing but kind to her. Throughout their time in the cabin, his focus had been to protect her.
“I won’t let Brad near you.”
She flinched at the sound of his voice, then closed her eyes and forced herself to swallow. Slowly she turned to look at him. His eyes were narrowed on the road, his lips set in a hard, thin line, his hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel. A vein pulsed at his neck. Another at his temple. Was he angry with her? Or just focused on his job and what awaited them at the dedication?
And when it was over, she thought, feeling the panic rising, what then? Would she never she him again? Would they go their separate ways?
Unable to bear the thought of losing him, she reached to touch a hand to his sleeve. “Link—”
He shook free, ignoring the entreaty in her voice. “There’ll be a lot of people there,” he said, with a nod at the road ahead. “But you don’t have anything to worry about. Hank’ll be there, as well as most of the other guys on the force. And I’ll stick close to your side. Nobody will harm you. You have my word on that. No one will get close enough to lay a hand on you.”
But he’d hurt her, she thought, her heart stinging with it. She tore her gaze from the hard set of his jaw and turned to stare through the windshield at the hospital that loomed in the distance.
She couldn’t imagine anything or anyone hurting her more than Link had with his rejection.
Hunter Fortune strode straight for Isabelle and Link as they entered the reception area, as if he’d been watching for their arrival.
“Isabelle,” her father murmured, drawing her against his chest in an emotional hug. “Are you okay?”
“Just play it cool,” Link warned under his breath, glancing around. “You don’t want to draw any more attention to her than necessary.”
“Of course,” Hunter said, and released Isabelle to catch her hand in his. He gave her a confident smile. “We’ll get through this, sweetheart,” he said, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “And when this is over—”
“Have you seen Rowan?”
Hunter glanced Link’s way at the interruption, barely able to contain the snarl that the mention of Brad’s name drew. “Not yet. And if he’s smart, he won’t show his face here.”
“Oh, he’ll show,” Link offered wryly. “His arrogance won’t allow him to stay away.” His fingers on Isabelle’s elbow dug a little deeper. “I need to check in with Hank,” he said, his gaze on her father. “Can you keep an eye on Isabelle for a minute?”
Fortune stepped forward, his smile sympathetic as he wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s waist. “Of course. We’ll be in the administrator’s office. You can meet us there when you’re done.”
Isabelle felt the pressure of Link’s fingers on her elbow increase before he released her and her father led her away. But she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She was afraid if she did, she would give in to the tears she kept stubbornly at bay.
As she stepped into the office, she turned to face her father. “What did you say to Link?”
Her father arched a brow, obviously as startled by the abruptness of her question as he was by the anger in her voice. “When?”
“Yesterday. At the cabin.”
He lifted a shoulder. “We discussed the plans for today.”
“What else?” she demanded, her voice rising shrilly. “I know there was something else said.”
“Isabelle,” he said, his tone patronizing as he stepped toward her. “There’s no need for you to upset yourself over—”
She stepped back. “No,” she warned, putting out a hand to stop him. “I will not be placated or protected any longer. I want the truth, and I want to hear it now.”
Her father st
opped, a slight frown knitting his brow as he peered closely at her. “My God,” he murmured, his eyebrows shooting high as he took a step back. “You’re in love with him.”
She jerked up her chin. “Yes. And I was sure that he loved me, too, until yesterday afternoon. Something happened. Something changed him. And I want to know what that was.”
“If you’re thinking that I instructed him to stay away from you, you’re wrong. Just the opposite, in fact. I told him that I was entrusting him with your care.”
Tears filled her eyes and she pressed a hand over her eyes to force them back. Duty. Link considered the job of protecting her his duty and would have fulfilled the obligation whether ordered to by her father, or not. He considered it his job to protect her. And he was a man who placed duty above all else. Even his own safety.
A lowlife who let the power behind the badge go to his head. A badge he’d never have received if I’d known his history.
She reeled dizzily as the words her father had shouted at Link the afternoon before shot into her mind, numbing her.
“You knew that Link’s stepbrother was one of my kidnappers, didn’t you?” she whispered, her gaze locked on her father’s face as the realization dawned. “That was what you were referring to when you said those spiteful things to him when you first arrived yesterday.”
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “But not until recently.”
“Did you discuss that with him? Did you discuss the kidnapping?”
“Yes,” he replied, and turned away, obviously ashamed of the wrongful assumptions he’d made about Link. “He told me everything. Some things that I didn’t know.”
“What? What did he tell you?”
“He confirmed what I already knew, what I’d unearthed in my own investigation of his past.” He sighed heavily. “But he also revealed something that I didn’t know—that I’d only begun to suspect.”
“What?” she cried, desperate to know it all.
Groom 0f Fortune (Fortune's Children: The Grooms Book 5) Page 11