The Fall of Lucas Kendrick

by Kay Hooper

  “We’ll have to wait and see. She might well be ‘indisposed’ at the moment and unable to greet guests, but I’m betting she’s going to make a suitably dramatic entrance tonight.” Kyle turned to face him, leaning back against the dresser. “When are Mr. Long and his wife arriving?”

  “A little later, I think. Kelsey wasn’t sure. Just remember you are supposed to know Josh—and introduce us.”

  “Do I know his wife?” she asked dryly.

  Lucas smiled at her. “Yes, you know Raven. Rome shouldn’t think that odd at all. Josh and Raven will be delighted to see you again, and I’ll be merely your escort.”

  “And lover,” she murmured. Before he could respond, she went on calmly. “Your background is that you’re from a West Coast family in the wine business, we met on a skiing holiday at Aspen, and you swept me off my feet.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So. When do we start searching?”

  “Kyle, we’ve been through this be—”

  “And I say my way makes more sense. Luc, if you’re caught skulking through the house on your own, it’ll look suspicious. As if you were casing the joint, at the very least. If I’m with you, we can always give the appearance we were overwhelmed by passion and had to find a dark corner to neck in.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Kyle slowly crossed the room to stand before him. “Maybe I want to. What happens on Monday, Luc?”

  He looked down at her, thinking of the past days when both had been so careful not to disturb the fragile harmony between them. And he felt the throbbing ache that was always with him now, heating his blood and clouding his mind. It was dangerous, what he was feeling. Dangerous because he would need to be alert and aware and he could hardly think of anything except Kyle.

  But he had made up his mind that he would give Kyle all the time she needed. If he had to take cold showers every hour, he was still determined that the choice would be hers.

  Resisting the nearly overpowering urge to yank her into his arms, he said, “That depends on what you want to happen.”

  “You’ll have to go back to New York, won’t you?”

  “I have weeks of vacation time coming to me. Things are pretty calm at the office now, so I can take the time off if I want. Why don’t we wait until Monday?”

  “Business before pleasure?” she asked lightly.

  “Not necessarily.” He wondered what she was feeling. As always, it was impossible to tell from her lovely face or turquoise eyes. With a sudden intuition he knew that when he could find some hint of her thoughts just by looking at her, the past would be buried for good. The knowledge was little consolation. She was as enigmatic as a cat, and those creatures had kept their secrets for thousands of years.

  She was looking at him now, her expression still unreadable. “Well,” she said, “I’m unpacked. How about you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t we explore a bit? Martin did offer us the run of the house.”

  Lucas thought about that and had to admit it sounded like a good idea. There would be about fifty guests during the weekend, most of them scheduled to come during the next few hours. The activity of arriving guests and servants provided them with the perfect time to explore.

  “Fine.” They went out into the hall from her room—and found themselves face-to-face with their host.

  Martin Rome was slender and just over six feet tall. He had black hair with wings of silver at the temples, rather penetrating dark eyes, and a handsome, distinguished-looking face that appeared a decade younger than his forty-five years. He also had a pleasant, deep voice and charming manners. And those manners were evident when he said nothing at all about their exit from Kyle’s bedroom or about the inherent possessiveness of Luc’s hand resting at the small of Kyle’s back.

  “Settled in?” he asked graciously.

  Kyle smiled at him, a smile that was a little more than social manners and a little less than intimacy. “Yes, thanks, Martin. I wanted to show Luc some of your wonderful art collection, if that’s all right.”

  “Certainly. Pay close attention in the trophy room, Kyle. I’ve recently acquired some splendid examples of primitive fertility statuettes.” He met Lucas’s gaze briefly, his own bland, then moved on down the hall.

  Kyle tucked her hand in his arm and turned him in the opposite direction, saying, “This way, darling,” in a voice that was subtly different from the voice she had used with Rome.

  Lucas obeyed the guiding touch, but something deep inside him was jangling an alarm. “Trophy room?” he said distractedly. “For fertility statues?”

  “Gives you an idea how his mind works,” Kyle murmured. “He’s been collecting those things for years, and they’ve always been displayed in the trophy room. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve been here before,” Lucas realized, and in that moment he knew why his instincts had growled warningly.

  She looked up at him curiously as they made their way down a wide, curving staircase to the ground floor of the mansion. “Many times,” she confirmed. “I suppose I assumed you knew that. Actually I came here first as a child. My parents visited Martin several times a year.”

  Evenly Lucas asked, “When did he plan to marry you? Then?”

  Kyle was frowning a bit but continued to lead him across the foyer and down a short hall. She didn’t respond until they entered a room that was filled with an astonishing collection of animal skins, weapons, figurines, headdresses—and just about anything else that a primitive society could have considered a trophy. And even a few things that more enlightened societies had prized, such as animal-skin rugs.

  She released Luc’s arm and wandered around the room, gazing with little interest at the displays.

  “Kyle?”

  Avoiding any touch of the polar-bear skin on the polished hardwood floor, she moved past it and then paused, staring at a collection of knives in a glass case. “He was married then,” she said.

  Lucas allowed his gaze to roam around the room, but he paid little attention to the collections. Still, he felt oddly savage, an unfamiliar sensation, and wondered distantly if the violence implicit in the room was having an effect on him. “That’s not an answer,” he told her finally.

  She turned to look at him, surprised by the harshness in his voice. “Luc, what’s wrong?”

  “He wants you,” Lucas said baldly. “I don’t know what kind of hold this Zamara has on him, but he wants you.”

  Kyle glanced toward the door, then moved to stand before him as the distant sounds of a new set of arrivals were heard. “I told you about water dropping on stone, remember?”

  Lucas kept his hands in the pockets of his slacks, but he was far more tense than he looked. “You told me. I suppose I’d forgotten that when we learned about Zamara. But I shouldn’t have done so. Rome would never marry a woman like her, would he, Kyle? No matter who she says she is, she just doesn’t have the blue-blood lines he feels are necessary for his wife.”

  She was looking up at him, and shook her head briefly. “No. Martin would never disgrace his family name by marrying out of his class. That’s garbage, of course, but it still holds true for many families. His is one of them.”

  “How about yours?”

  Lightly but with an undertone of bitterness she said, “I’ve already disgraced mine through the years.” Then she shrugged. “Luc, what is all this?”

  Her back was to the door, Lucas facing her, and when he caught a glimpse of movement, he acted without thinking at all. And maybe it was with the intention of demonstrating to Martin Rome that Kyle was no longer unattached that he acted, but it took no more than a few seconds to make reasoning unimportant.

  The soft sweater she was wearing caressed his hands as he touched it, and the warm, firm flesh beneath was a balm to his hungry senses. He pulled her against him and bent his head to meet her startled lips with his own. Kyle was stiff in his arms for only an instant, and then she melted against him.

/>   He felt her mouth opening to him, her hands slipping up around his neck. He felt the firm mounds of her breasts against his chest where two sweaters were frail barriers between heated bodies. And he felt the slow building of a potent, raw, and powerful force inside him.

  The dark, spicy scent of her perfume rose from her skin to fill his mind with its seductive promise, and he drew her more tightly against him, one hand sliding down her back to press her hips to the aching fullness of his loins.

  He heard a soft sound then and didn’t know if he had made it or if she had. A low, hungry sound that was almost pain. Wanting her had become a driving compulsion, all else forgotten. With so much still uncertain between them he needed the certainty of knowing she could feel desire for him. He wanted to see her face lose its enigmatic serenity in the primitive heat of passion, wanted to feel her go wild beneath him, her body holding him deep inside her.

  If he had felt caution, he would have thrown it to the winds; if there had been any awareness of his surroundings, he would have mused that the bearskin rug would make a fine bed; if he had considered the danger of his mission in this house, it would have been no more than a fleeting, disinterested thought. But Lucas felt nothing except the woman in his arms and his own violent need, was aware of nothing else, thought of nothing else.

  But in the distance he heard a voice.

  “Ah, we seem to be intruding on two of my other guests. Perhaps I could show you the trophy room later?”

  Another voice. “We know Kyle; perhaps she’ll forgive us for interrupting. I believe I hear more of your guests arriving, Martin.”

  “If you’ll excuse me—?”

  “Certainly.”

  Footsteps going away. Footsteps coming into the room.

  Lucas didn’t know where he’d been, but he was an awfully long time returning to the primitive vibrations of the room and a niggling awareness of a hardwood floor beneath his feet. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and his heart seemed to have swelled tremendously because he could feel the runaway pounding throughout his entire body. And the slenderness of Kyle’s warm body was a lifeline, something he’d have to hold on to or he’d drown … or burn up … or fly away somewhere and crash because he didn’t have wings.

  “Hello?”

  He opened his eyes slowly, staring down into her dazed face. And he felt a flicker of intense pleasure because she was no longer serene and enigmatic. Her eyes shimmered darkly with desire, and her face was flushed, wondering. One of her hands moved from around his neck and touched his face lightly, carefully.

  “They aren’t listening.”

  “Listening? They aren’t on the same planet!”

  “You used to look at me like that.”

  “Used to?”

  “Hey, how about that? You still do.”

  “This room is perfect for an orgy.”

  “Later, darling. Josh!”

  “What?”

  “How do you know what an orgy room should look like?”

  “I must have seen a picture in a book.”

  “I don’t believe you. I’ll bet you had a harem of blondes and they threw orgies every Thursday.”

  “Certainly not.”

  “No?”

  “On Saturday night, peasant.”

  “I want a divorce.”

  Silence.

  “Well, maybe I’ll stay married to you.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “Vain. The man is so vain. Kyle? Hello, Kyle?”

  Vaguely aware of noises, Kyle removed her gaze from Lucas’s pale face and turned her head slowly. It took her a moment to accept fully the presence of two people in the room with them, and she stared at them bemusedly.

  The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and slightly cool but amused blue eyes. He was also quite strikingly handsome and looked more formal than most men would in dark slacks, a white shirt open at the throat, and a black leather jacket zipped halfway up.

  The woman standing in the circle of his right arm was also tall and dark; she had long blue-black hair worn casually loose, and her face was lovely despite its not being beautiful. She had merry violet eyes and a warm smile, and the casual sweater and skirt she wore did terrific things for her splendid figure.

  “Hi, Kyle,” the woman said gently. “Remember us?”

  Kyle blinked and thought about it. There were things expected of her. She was supposed to … What was she supposed to do? Oh, yes.

  “Hello,” she said dreamily. “I want you to meet Lucas Kendrick. This is Raven and Josh Long, Luc.” She wondered if she had gotten that right. Odd how automatic knowledge seemed to have deserted her. Not that she cared. She looked back up at Lucas, then gently turned his head toward the others. “Say hello, Luc.”

  He blinked and stared at them. “Hello.”

  “At least he didn’t say ‘Hello, Luc,’ ” Josh murmured, then looked down at his wife with a frown. “Never say I was that bad.”

  “No?” She smiled at him. “There wasn’t a mirror handy when you were stretched out on the floor at my feet.”

  “True.”

  “Or when—”

  “Never mind. I’ll concede the point.”

  Lucas found himself the focus of the other man’s gaze and wondered why he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious. It seemed entirely natural to be standing there with his arms around Kyle. But he realized gradually that something was expected of him, so he asked, “Where’s Rome?”

  “Greeting guests,” Josh told him. “I think we’re safe for the moment.”

  “Maybe you are,” Lucas murmured.

  “This is very hard going,” Josh told his wife despairingly.

  “I know, but they’ll be completely with us soon. Do you think he’d hit me if I took her away from him?”

  Josh looked thoughtful. “He’d hit me if I did.”

  “We’ll go for a walk in the garden,” Raven decided. She took Kyle gently by the arm and drew her away from Lucas. “Kyle, do you know the key to the maze? I’ve heard Rome has a wonderful maze in his garden.”

  Kyle looked at her. “Oh. Yes.”

  “Good enough,” Raven murmured, laughter in her eyes. She looked at her husband as she led Kyle past him. “I think you’d better get Luc a drink. We’ll be in the center of the maze, darling. You two come and find us a little later.”

  “I found my way through one maze to get you,” Josh told her severely.

  “Chin up, darling. This one’s only made of bushes.”

  “Well, all right. But leave a trail of bread crumbs.”

  When the women had gone, Josh left briefly himself, returning with a strong drink for his friend. Lucas hadn’t even noticed Josh’s absence.

  Kyle wasn’t accustomed to confiding in anyone. She had friends all over the world, but none really knew her. Her mother’s sense of decorum had been drummed into her: A lady never betrayed having strong emotions—if she had them, and even having them was bad form; a lady never raised her voice for any reason and certainly never cried in public. A lady kept her problems to herself always, no matter what. And, above all, a lady was never—not under any circumstances—to be seen embracing any man in front of anyone, servants, friends, or strangers. Heaven forbid that she should embrace a man passionately.

  Her own and her brother’s existences as proof to the contrary, Kyle had always been certain that her mother didn’t believe it was proper to embrace a man in private, either. Even a husband.

  Kyle was, of course, very different from her mother. Yet still she had heard her mother’s strictures all too often, and for too many years, not to be conscious of breaking one of those rules.

  So she should have felt definitely embarrassed at having met Raven Long and her husband for the first time while she was so dazed with desire that she’d hardly been coherent. She could hear her mother’s voice, apalled, condemning, ringing in her mind.

  And she didn’t give a damn.

  By the time they reached the cent
er of the maze, with Raven merely strolling along beside her in silence, Kyle had recovered her wits. She didn’t know what had happened between her and Lucas in the trophy room, but whatever it was, she wasn’t embarrassed about it. Bewildered, elated, half frightened, doubtful, eager, wary, excited—but not embarrassed.

  In the center of the maze, surrounded by eight-foot walls of green hedge, was a lovely white gazebo with curving, padded benches inside. Kyle had automatically led them here with no thought of the correct turns; she had memorized the maze in childhood and often had sat in the gazebo for hours, alone with her thoughts.

  Raven looked around her with pleasure as they stepped up into the gazebo and sat on the bench. “This is wonderful. Did Rome have the maze designed?”

  Kyle, studying the other woman, shook her head. “No! His grandfather, I believe.”

  “I didn’t think he was playful enough for something like this. Do you know him well?”

  “A long time—but not well.”

  The merry violet eyes glanced briefly at her, and Kyle felt just as she had with Kelsey. This woman, she thought, was highly perceptive. And strong. That much was clearly visible behind the laughing eyes. Perhaps even dangerous in the right situation—or the wrong one. Then Kyle remembered that Raven had been Kelsey’s partner.

  “… toughness comes in all shapes and sizes,” he had said about past female partners.

  Kyle felt comfortable with Raven Long, but her voice was nonetheless gruff when she murmured, “I don’t know what happened to me back there.”

  “Don’t you?” Raven was gazing off into space, her eyes distant and thoughtful.

  “No, I—” Kyle bit her lip. “Yes. Yes, I know. But it was never like that before, not even with Luc. I’ve never felt that way in my life.”

  Raven half turned on the bench and looked at the younger woman with an open but neutral expression, inviting confidence but not asking. “Kyle, I don’t know what happened between you and Luc years ago—I only know that something did happen, something neither of you can forget.”

  Kyle shifted uneasily, and Raven spoke again in her warm, musical voice.