Chapter 10

She went rigid in his arms, dark brown eyes staring at him in disbelief.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered. Her heart was hammering inside her chest, and she felt hope flaring.

“You shouldn’t be saying that to me,” she was pleading with him. “I have agreed to the affair, I– I have been thinking about it, and I like the way you make me feel.” Her fingers curled into his chest. “Please don’t do this to me. You don’t know me. I–”

“I know all I want to know. And I don’t care if you have a million skeletons in your closet.

I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”

She jerked away and would have dragged herself out of his embrace, but he held her fast.

“No.” Her breath was coming rapidly, and she looked frightened and vulnerable. “I can’t.”

“Baby.” He shook her slightly. “Calm down.” Scooping her into his arms, he went to the sofa and cradled her. “Look at me.” When she did, he continued. “I know what you went through and that this is probably the last thing you want to hear.”

“I was pregnant,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. “He- he told me the day before the wedding that he could not go through with it.” Her fingers curled into his biceps, nails digging into the flesh. “He said he was in love with my sister. I begged him—told him that I would do anything if he went through with it.

All I could think about was the invitations that went out, the gifts that had started to come in, my dress, the church that was decorated by women who spent several hours trying to get it right.” She took a breath.

“I had just discovered earlier that week that I was pregnant, and I wanted to wait until we were on our honeymoon to tell him the good news.” She blinked and caused the tears to trickle down her cheeks.

Richard remained motionless. If he didn’t stay still, he was going to do something rash, like hitting a piece of furniture. He wanted to hurt those who had done this to her, and he wanted it so badly he could practically taste it.

“I told him about the pregnancy, thinking that he would do the right thing,” she gulped. “But he told me he never wanted children, and I was not going to trap him into a marriage he did not want. I lost the baby the next day. It wasn’t a baby yet.”

She stared at him pleadingly, her eyes drenched with tears, and he felt his heart shattering. “I was just three weeks pregnant, so it wasn’t really formed–”

“Enough!” his harsh voice rang out inside the room with enough force to have her staring at him.

“Baby, I cannot bear any more," he whispered thickly. “I want to kill the son of a bitch for hurting you, and I cannot bear to listen to anything else.” He pressed her face into his throat, his expression bleak.

“I am sorry.” She pressed her face into the warmth of his strong throat and felt her tears drying up. His arms were wrapped around her, and for the first time in her life, she felt secure and protected.

“Don’t you dare piss me off by apologizing," he murmured, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Listening. I went through years of therapy and never felt this good.”

“Happy to be of service," he teased shakily. “Should I send you my bill?”

“I can make good on it now.”

He stiffened in shock when she reached between them and closed her hand over his solid length.

“Collette, baby.” A groan escaped him, and he felt his body hardening even more.

“Sweetheart…” With a shaky laugh, he picked her up and laid her on the blanket. “I expect full payment," he warned hoarsely.

*****

He could not sleep. Even after she was snuggled next to him, her soft snores indicating she was out for the count, he lay there staring into the dying embers of the fire. Her words reverberated inside his head. He wanted to commit murder.

Making sure that she was not disturbed, he eased away from her carefully and pulled the sheets over her. He stood there staring at her for a minute before putting on his clothes. He had to get out of there for a few minutes. He had to think and lying next to her was not going to accomplish that.

Dragging on his boots, he went to grab his jacket. After checking to make sure she was still asleep, he left, closing the door behind him. With no real destination in mind, he headed east, past the barn where the sound of the horses clopping on the ground and shuffling behind the stalls, he took off at a run.

“He told me he did not want to have children. We never spoke about it, not specifically, but he led me to believe that he wanted to be a father. How could I have been so wrong?”

Her plaintive voice haunted his steps, and he could not outrun the pain he had heard while she told the story.

She said she was not in love with the son of a bitch, but he was still standing between them. Even after so many years. She had spoken about therapy. Richard was selfish. Now that he was in love for the first time in his life, he wanted no competition.

He never wanted to share her with some lowlife who never knew the value of the woman he had. But realistically, he could look at it another way. If he had not messed up so royally, Richard would have gone through life lonely, drifting from one relationship to the next.

He should be thanking the son of a bitch. But he was not feeling particularly benevolent to the man. He had messed with the woman he loved and for that, he should pay.

“Are you still in touch with him?” The jealousy was new to him, and he was finding it rather difficult to deal with. Hence the question.

“He called me a few days ago,” she admitted.

“And I take it you told him to go screw himself.?”

She had avoided his incensed gaze.

“You spoke to him?”

“I told him not to call me again.”

“What did he want, Collette?”

She had ducked her head again.

“He said he made a mistake and wanted to meet.”

He had muttered profanities that had her cringing. But he had not apologized because he would not have meant a word of it.

“What did you say?”

“I told him I didn’t want to hear from him.”

“I want you to lose his number, and I mean it, Collette.” He was being high-handed, but he didn’t give a crap. The nerve of the bastard!

The wind whistling through the leaves of the trees and the cold seeping through his jacket brought him back to the fact that he had ventured too far. And had done so without being conscious of the distance.

Bending at the knees, he took several breaths to steady himself before turning around and retracing his steps. He didn’t want her waking up and not finding him next to her. Did she have nightmares? He hoped not. But the thought of it spurred him on until he was making his way toward the barn house.

She was still asleep. He felt the relief coursing through his body. And he was dripping with sweat and freezing. Taking one last look at her, he went to find the bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

Making a check of the main bedroom, he discovered a fire burning in the hearth and added more logs. Within minutes, the fire cast a cozy feel around the room, creating shadows on the plain blue walls. Turning the sheets down, he made sure the bed was not cold before going into the living room to fetch her.

Wrapping her up in the blankets, he lifted her up and was on his way into the bedroom when she opened her eyes.

“Where–”

“I think we should avail ourselves of the bed," he interpreted her inquiry.

“Oh.” She snuggled against him and closed her eyes. “You smell nice,” she whispered.

“Like lavender.”

He swore softly, “The only soap in the entire damned place.”

She smiled and sniffed again. “It suits you.”

“Don’t make me drop you.” He was happy to see that her mood was much improved.

“You won’t.”

“So, I am becoming predictable, am I?”

“I am afraid so.”

Setting her down carefully, he got rid of the towel tied around his waist and settled in next to her. His heart took a sharp dive when she immediately moved into his arms.

“You feel so warm.”

“Hmm,” he grunted, his arms wrapping around her body. “Go to sleep.”

“Now I am wide awake.”

“Collette, baby–”He hissed out a breath when she found that part of him so vulnerable to her touch. “Aren’t you tired?”

“No.” Her fingers were very busy and very disturbing, and she was looking at him with that irresistible look in her dark brown eyes.

“Oh Christ!” Cutting off a groan, he covered her mouth with his.

*****

Collette woke before him, and after taking the time to stare at his magnificent body, she hopped into the shower and took advantage of the piping hot water, and dressed in a pair of snug-fitting jeans and the softest, most comfortable pumpkin-colored sweater she had ever worn.

Slipping on the low-heeled ankle boots, she brushed her hair and decided to leave it loose.

The strands were vibrant and crackling with life when she was through brushing it. Putting on lip gloss, she took one look in the mirror before making her careful way from the room and closing the door behind her.

Slipping on her jacket, she ventured outside and was rewarded with the sight of the sun making its way over the horizon.

Yesterday when they arrived, dusk had already fallen, and she had been unable to see anything much. Shoving her hands into the fur-lined pockets of her jacket, she approached the barn and went in. A cry escaped her when a shadow loomed out of one of the stalls.

“Miss, sorry to frighten you.” The man dragged off his tattered straw hat and pressed it against his scarred jacket. “I never expected anyone to be up and about this early. I am Bert, the caretaker. I am just seeing to the horses.”

“I am Collette. Sorry to interrupt.”

“No.” Bert shook his graying head of hair, a smile wreathing his mouth. “Just getting finished. The missus sent over some breakfast as well. Her specially made omelet and some fresh fruits.” He nodded to the basket he had placed on a bale of fresh hay.

“How kind of her. Please thank her for me. I will take it and get some coffee going. Would you like a cup?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I have to get back. Please tell Mr. Richard that I chopped some firewood and stacked them in the storeroom.” He doffed his hat. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Collette waited until he had left before hefting the basket and making her way back inside.

*****

Richard opened his eyes, and for a few seconds, wondered where he was. The room did not look anything like his bedroom; for one, it was significantly smaller, and the sun was steaming in from an unfamiliar direction. Recollection flooded his mind and had him turn his head to look at the other side of the bed.

Panic touched him when he didn’t see her, and for a moment, he wondered if she had fled.

He was dragging on his jeans when the enticing scent of coffee hit his nostrils. Smiling in delight at the prospect of what awaited him in the kitchen, he dragged on a sweater and went to brush his teeth. Dragging his fingers through his hopelessly tangled hair, he decided not to wait another minute to go and find her.

The sight that met his eyes had him taking a deep breath. She had her back turned to him and was humming beneath her breath. She had found an apron, and the strings were tied around her neck and her small waist.

Leaning against the door jamb, he looked at his fill, and felt the deep yearning to see this scene for the rest of his life.

Finally sensing him behind her, she turned, one hand flying to her throat.

“You are up.”

“In more ways than one," he drawled, mischief dancing in his emerald green eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast. Or partially making it. Bert, the caregiver, handed me a basket when I went to the barn. He scared the crap out of me.”

“He was probably checking on the horses. Want to pour me a cup?” He hitched a chin toward the coffee pot, and she went to get cups. “I was not sure what time you would be up. I just need to do the toast–”she gasped as he took the cup from her and set it aside before pulling her in his arms.

“I just need a proper greeting. Hi.”

“Hi.” She was looking anywhere except his face.

“How did you sleep?” He was amused at her shyness. After the night and morning they had spent exploring each other’s bodies, he did not expect it.

“Very well,” she told him primly. “The eggs–”

“Can wait. This can’t.” Lifting her chin, he covered her mouth, his tongue plunging in and leaving her weak with need. Her arms came around his neck, and with a sigh of surrender, she returned the potent kiss.

“Much better," he whispered hoarsely, his hands still around her waist. “I like hair like this.” Lifting one hand, he tugged at a thick stand and watched fascinated as it bounced back. “I like it even better when it’s streaming on the pillows. “Want to go for a ride after we eat?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I would love that. I was checking out the horses but didn’t get a chance to do anything else.”

Kissing her again, he rubbed his hands up and down her back, loving the feel of her slender frame against his body.

“We will do some exploring and while we are at it, there is a quaint little café a few miles from here. We could stop and have lunch.”

“Are you going to let me go?”

“Never," he deliberately misinterpreted the question.

“I meant–”

“I know what you meant. But I am also putting you on notice.” His fingers slid over one smooth cheek. I am in your life for good.”

*****

She couldn’t believe how happy he made her and how much she was enjoying herself for the first time in her life. He made her laugh. Right here in this small paradise, she could forget who he was. Now that he wasn’t surrounded by the press or the nucleus of his power, his world was where he commanded the attention of people.

He was just Richard, the man who made her body tingle and her blood heat up. The man gently instructed her on how to hold the reins of the superb brown horse with the white streak on its forehead. He was riding a magnificent black mare that seemed very high spirited and slightly intimidating.

“Loosen your grip. You are about to give the poor horse a broken neck,” he teased her.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” she protested, doing as he instructed.

“I would never have believed it.”

She poked her tongue at him, and he was seized with such passion that he had to haul her up by the neck of her sweater and bury his mouth on hers.

“Don’t do that, unless you are prepared to take the consequences," he said hoarsely, ignoring the skittish movements of his horse.

She clung to him, breathless and giddy. She was forty-two and she felt like a girl on the throes of her first epic love affair and it frightened her.

“Richard–”

“Yes, baby?” He was still holding her close.

“We– the horses.” She was gazing at his mouth, wanting the feel of it against hers again.

“Hmm.” He rubbed his lips against hers before releasing her with obvious reluctance.

“What you do to me...” Shaking his head, he gathered his reins. “Let her canter for a minute before guiding her into a steady trot. She responds well to urging.”

Her fear disappeared after a few minutes, and she relished the feel of the cold wind on her face and tearing through her hair. And the view was magnificent. In the bright light of day, the sun highlighted the changing colors of fall. Rows upon rows of trees, with their leaves displaying myriads of colors made the journey an adventure.

There were several quaint cottages dotted the horizon, but otherwise, they were all alone. He led them back to the barn where he helped her to dismount before rubbing down the horses and sending them back into their respective stalls.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted with a breathless laugh.

“Let’s go get lunch.”

He held her hand as they made their way toward the vehicle, a very classic sports car that he said belonged to the friend.

“It’s just left here?” The top was down, and the breeze was wreaking havoc on her ponytail, but she didn’t mind in the least.

“Barry is on tour in Europe.” He flashed her a smile, admiring the way the sweater was molded against her bosom. He was going to hasten lunch along so they could come back and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.

He did not relish the fact that very soon, they were going to be leaving. It felt as if he was going back to the real world, and everything was going to get complicated.

Here, he had her all to himself, and he preferred it that way.

“Barry McClurkin?” she asked with a widening of her eyes. “The classic music legend?”

“Yes.” He slid her a glance as he made the turn into the parking place of a sturdy looking log building. “You are a fan.”

“Who isn’t?” She exclaimed dazedly. It reminded her of his power and the people he mixed with. “You produce his music.”

“I do. He is more of a friend. And a grouch. He is the epitome of a moody artist. But his bark is worse than his bite.” He opened her door and took her hand, pulling her up against him, his hands tight on the lapels on her jacket. “Your hair is a mess.” He chuckled, brushing back thick strands off her face.

“Whose fault is that?” she retorted. She had never been so uninhibited with anyone, certainly not a man, and it was exhilarating.

“Mine.” Cupping her cheek, he brushed his lips on hers. “We are going to shovel the food into our mouths and get the hell out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because–”Bending his head, he told her exactly what he was going to do to her.

Collette went still as she stared at him, her body trembling and not from the cold air that had sprung up. “Richard–”

“If you continue to look at me like that, we are going to skip lunch," he told her gruffly, sorely tempted to do just that.

“I–”Words failed her, so instead, she just moved against him and buried her face into his warm throat.

“Oh baby," he said shakily, words failing him as well. “Where have you been all my life?” Kissing the top of her head, he took her hand and led them into the shadowed interior of a very rustic eatery that served the best brisket Collette had ever tasted.

And they seemed to know him here. And respect his need for privacy. After the meal was served, they were left alone. He charmed her with stories of some of his artists. His deep voice telling the stories enchanted her and had her laughing.

“I don’t believe you.” She shook her head as she scooped up some baby potatoes.

His thick brows lifted as he sipped his wine.

“Calling me a liar, darling?”

“No.” She shook her head, eyes dancing merrily. “You want me to believe that this world-class R&B singer is a cross-dresser?”

“Are you going to sell the information to the press?”

“I just might. It would make a very good story, and I would be paid millions.”

“Then I won’t tell you about a certain female singer who insists on traveling with both her husband and her lover.”

Her eyes went wide as she leaned forward. “Who?”

He laughed, taking her hands in his. “You should see the look on your face.”

“The public’s fascination with celebrities.” She admitted wryly. She went still at the look on his face.

“Finished?”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Good, I want you naked.”