King's Ransom (11 page)
Authors: Sharon Sala
"If you
don't care for dessert, Jesse, dear," he said, slipping his hand over hers
as she placed her napkin at the side of her plate, "I believe I'd better
get you home. It seems the roads
are
getting worse,
and I don't want to take any chances with your safety."
He leaned over in
the circular booth they were sharing and slipped his hand under the collar of
her sweater as he spoke, refusing to acknowledge the flash of distaste that
clouded her eyes.
Jesse had been
trying for several weeks to find a way to lessen the attention
loss. At first he'd been a welcome visitor— someone from home. Yet he always
made Jesse slightly uncomfortable by the way he looked at her, and the
practiced casualness of his touch. She'd tried to get out of this dinner all
day. The weather was uncertain and she needed to average the grades of her
students and have them ready to post on report cards when Christmas break was
over. It
had
been
a long, lonely holiday. Finally she'd weakened at
"Yes,"
she eagerly agreed, as he suggested they leave. "I'm finished. And the
roads look worse."
She was anxious
to get home and away from
For some reason, she sensed something different about him. His behavior was
making her uneasy. There was an almost desperate quality that she didn't like.
She didn't like it at all.
The drive home
took forever. The roads had worsened. They made it home safely due only to the
fact that nearly everyone else had the good sense to stay indoors and off the
roads.
door, bestowed his usual farewell, and quite off-handedly remarked he'd probably
break his neck before he got back to his hotel.
Jesse felt a
twinge of guilt, but remained stubbornly silent as she watched him get in his
car and begin the hazardous job of backing down the slope of her icy driveway.
Suddenly, before her eyes,
car spun about in a complete circle and came to rest on the neighbor's yard.
She opened the front door and stepped out, calling anxiously as she saw
head.
"
"are you hurt?"
He looked up at
the sound of her voice, opened the door and stepped out with a huge smile on
his face. He shrugged his shoulders as if to indicate his innocence in the
whole proceedings and started walking carefully back toward Jesse's house.
"No, I'm not
hurt,"
don't mind. I'll just stretch out on your sofa. You'll never know I'm
here."
There was
absolutely nothing Jesse could say to deny him entrance. She also didn't know
that one of the few things
ice since he was a kid.
The next two
hours went smoother than Jesse could have hoped. He was considerate and
unobtrusive as she finished averaging and posting the student grades in her
book. She heard
bring a pot of her favorite apple-scented tea and set it and a cup and saucer
within reach. She looked up to thank him, but he was already gone.
Maybe I'm making
more of this than I should,
Jesse thought.
He's actually
being true to his word.
Finally her work
was finished. Jesse slammed the pages of her grade book shut with a satisfied
plop. She pushed her chair back and stretched her legs out before her, stood
and wearily tilted her head from side to side, trying to work the kinks out of
her neck and tired shoulder muscles.
"Need a back
rub?"
His voice
startled her. She turned to see him watching her from the doorway of the den.
Jesse shuddered. She hadn't been aware of his presence and it made her uneasy.
"No, no.
It's fine. A good night's sleep will take care of it," Jesse answered
anxiously, hoping he would move away from the doorway so she could escape to
relative safety in her bedroom. But
"Well,"
she said brightly, "if there's anything you need during the night,
to help yourself. Food, extra blankets, anything
..."
"There is
something I need Jesse, dear." He began walking slowly toward her.
"No. Something I want."
Jesse's heart stopped
and then raced. All speech left her as she began backing away from
nowhere to go.
"Don't be
afraid, my dear," he crooned. He slipped his hands on either side of her
neck and cupped her face, tilting it toward his dark, fathomless gaze.
"You know how I feel about you. You must! Please, let me show you how
precious you are to me. Let me stay with you tonight. Let me take care of you,
always."
"No . . .
no," Jesse whispered, feeling revulsion at his touch. She struggled
uselessly within his grip, and fought down the rising black tide of fear that
threatened to overwhelm her. This couldn't be happening! She had to be
dreaming, because this
was
a nightmare.
"You've
misunderstood,
I don't think of you that way. You're Andrew's brother—King's uncle. I've
always thought of you as family. Please!" And the last came out with a sob
as she struggled wildly to get away from his lips on her neck
...
on her face . . . on her mouth.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, and pushed with both hands, pressing
and hitting against his chest with all the strength she could muster. It wasn't
much, but her struggles broke his grip and Jesse fell back with a choked cry.
She wrapped her
arms around herself, trying to keep the nausea that was boiling in her stomach
at bay. She no longer hid the repulsion she felt in his presence.
and an ugly smile came and went on his handsome face.
"What's the
matter, princess?" he sneered. "Aren't I good enough for you? Or am I
not what you wanted after all? Let me guess
...
the princess wants the King, not the jester. Am I right?"
Jesse gasped,
suddenly aware of how defenseless and alone she was . . . and just how angry
"Get
out!" she ordered, drawing strength from deep within. She pointed her
finger in his face and began advancing toward him. She wouldn't be afraid
...
not in her own home. "Go home,
Unconsciously
surprised by her vehemence, but the ugly smile and threat in his demeanor remained.
He wasn't prepared to give up on this woman and her money this easily. He was
too desperate.
"You forgot
about the weather," he reminded her with a gleam in his eyes. "I
can't leave yet. It's too dangerous."
"No,
Duncan," Jesse said ominously. "Not as dangerous as it will be if
you stay here. Get out! Get out now . . . or I'll tell King."
She couldn't have
made more of an impact if she'd slapped him. His easy way of life depended on
staying within his nephew's graces.
"Damn
you," he whispered, as he grabbed his coat and gloves from the table in
her living room. "One day you'll be sorry, princess. One day you'll be
very sorry!"
Jesse held her
breath as he slammed the door viciously behind him. She quickly locked the door
and then sank limply onto the living room sofa. Her eyelids burned and she
blinked furiously.
and cried herself to sleep.
"Lunch is
ready," Maggie announced to Jesse, as she practically ran into the kitchen.
She raised her eyebrows, but judiciously said nothing, as
expression on his face. Maggie knew there was old trouble between them but kept
her thoughts to herself.
"I'll go get
King," Jesse offered breathlessly, and gave neither Maggie nor Duncan a
chance to object. She exited the kitchen on the run.
"You better
put on some shoes," Maggie called, but it was too late. Jesse was gone.
"Here," she said, as she placed a stack of plates in
table." She ignored his look of outrage and surprise and turned back to
her pots and pans. It wouldn't hurt him to earn his meal for a change.
The hot, loose
dust in the driveway made tiny poofs between Jesse's bare toes as she hurried
toward the horse barns. The thick, sweet scent of honeysuckle along the
backyard fence wafted through the air, and Jesse inhaled deeply, satisfied, in
spite of the heat, to be away from the cloying atmosphere inside the ranch
house. A daring little sweat bee lit on the back curve of Jesse's thigh and
then quickly lifted off just before her hand reached him.
Jesse squinted
her eyes against the glare of noon-day sun and stopped for a moment in the
shade of one of the red oaks lining the long driveway of the Double M. She held
her breath and listened, then turned with a smile toward the gleaming white
stalls where King's brood mares were kept. She could hear him, even from here,
issuing a short, decisive order to one of the hands. A horse's neigh pierced
the air in objection as men's voices continued to call back and forth to one
another. Jesse rounded the corner and slipped silently into the welcome depths
of the cool, airy barns that opened at both ends to capture the maximum flow of
air.
A shiny, red king
cab pickup truck pulling a matching air-conditioned horse trailer was backed
into the barn area. It was obvious that King had just sold some of his stock.
She watched as a
young filly and two colts, part of his herd of two-year olds, were carefully
loaded into the comfortable depths of the long trailer. She couldn't hide her
admiration at the way they responded to King's handling. The beauty and clean
lines of their distinctive build, their long, delicate legs, the magnificent
width of their chests and long, flowing manes and tails belied the spirit and
endurance for which the true Arabians were bred. She knew King suffered mixed
feelings each time he had to part with his stock. Although that was why he
raised them, selling them was always a difficult hurdle to pass.
King carefully
led the last of the young horses into the trailer and then stepped back,
allowing the men to remove the loading ramp and fasten the end gate of the
trailer securely. It was only after he watched to assure himself that the truck
and trailer had successfully cleared the barn opening that he spied Jesse
standing in the shadows. He began walking toward her.
Jesse saw him
wave and smile, then saw a frown appear on his face and knew why before he got
within shouting distance.
"Lunch is
ready," she said, hoping she could sidetrack his train of thought. It
didn't work.
"Where the
hell are your shoes?" he growled, and glared fiercely at the wide, blue
eyes staring back at him with feigned innocence.
This was an old
battle they'd fought for years. Jesse knew it was only for her own safety that
he continually cautioned her, but she loved the feel of going barefoot. And at
the age of twenty-five, she was unlikely to change.
"Come
on," Jesse chided, ignoring his bluffed anger. She hurried toward the ranch
house, assuming he would follow. "Maggie's waiting."
King narrowed his
eyes and tried to ignore the gentle movement of her breasts under the skimpy
little blue top she was wearing, but didn't succeed. Then he realized she had nothing
on under it. That made things even worse. The sexy sway of her hips in the
matching shorts did nothing to help the increasing pressure behind the zipper
of his
and he cursed roundly under his breath as he hurried to catch up. Maybe if he
walked beside her and not behind it would turn his mind to a safer channel.