Love Game (9 page)

“W
E HAD LOTSA FUN AT
Auntie
Marge’s last night.”

“Uh-huh.” Foot propped on a pillow in the middle of the bed, Chris painted another toenail and suppressed a moan. That toe, that very toe had been sucked less than twelve hours ago. Sucking toes, where in the world had Greg picked that up? The Middle East, Japan, maybe in France while he sipped real champagne—
who cared?

“But the mostest fun was when Uncle Rick and old Uncle Harvey sorta had a fight playing cards. Uncle Rick said makin’ up new rules was cheating and Uncle Harvey said…”

What should she wear tonight? The Olga was her best bra but the Vanity Fair was lavender and
très
risque´. Did black go with lavender? Or maybe the white tap pants.

“And then they throwed popcorn balls at each other and then they hit Aunt Tammy’s bee-hind with one and then…”

Then again, she did have the whole afternoon to shop. Only, would a Renoir wear red?

“But it was lotsa fun and—Mama, what’s this?”

“Maybe ivory.” Finished with the last nail, Chris capped the polish and stretched.

“But ivory, that’s from elephants, right? This doesn’t look like it came off a elephant.”

“Audrey! What are you doing with that?” Heedless of her wet toes, Chris lurched from the bed and seized the champagne bottle. “Stay out of my suitcase, young lady.”

“Why’re you
yelling at me? I only wanted to see the pretty bottle.”

Arms crossed and hiding what she held, Chris forced herself to calm down. “I wasn’t yelling.”

“Were too! And that’s not all, you weren’t listenin’ to me. Ever since your friend started comin’ over, it’s like you’re gone all the time. Why can’t I come, too?”

“Because—because children aren’t allowed where we go. And besides, I save all my days just for you.” Dropping to her knees, Chris laid the bottle aside and, in contrition, held out her arms. “Give Mama a hug, sugar.”

Audrey stepped back. “Tonight, Mama, I want you with me tonight.” With a note of hope, she added, “It’s okay with me if he’s with us, too. We could all go to the movies and—”

“When we get back to Lubbock, I’ll take you to the movies. We’ll eat all the popcorn we want and—”

“But he won’t be there, and I like your friend. Let him come to a movie with us. Please? Then we can be like a family goin’ to the movies instead of just you and me.”

“No.” Her firm denial won a pout. But better a pout now than letting Audrey get her hopes up for something that just couldn’t be. “Tell you what, I’ll ask Aunt Tammy and Uncle Rick to take you.”

Audrey emphatically shook her head. When Chris reached for her, she shot to the door and said with a sniffle, “You don’t wanna be with me tonight.”

“That’s not true.” Chris went to her and stroked the pale blond hair. “You know that’s not true, Audrey. I
always
want to be with you. Tomorrow I’ll make up for being gone tonight. We’ll spend the whole day together, okay?”

Audrey looked away. Following her gaze, Chris saw that it was on the bottle. Deep breath.
Stop cringing, damn it.

“He doesn’t like
kids, does he? I thought he was nice and he liked me, but he’s not nice.”

“But he
is
nice, Audrey. Greg’s just not cut out to be a daddy, that’s all.”

“Then I don’t want him to be with you. Tell him to go away, Mama. Tell him we don’t like him anymore.”

“I’m sorry, but Mama likes him and I—”

“Uncle Rick doesn’t like him neither. I heard him say so to Aunt Tammy and—”

“Stop it!” Chris froze as she realized she had almost gripped Audrey’s shoulders—to shake her. Never had she shaken Audrey, never. Only once had she even been spanked, for running in front of a car. Chris wanted to spank her now, paddle Audrey good for her childish resentment of Greg’s inability to meet her expectations.

Staring at her poised hands, then the streaks resembling pale pink bracelets on her wrists, Chris shuddered.
What was happening to her?
She didn’t know the woman these wrists belonged to. She didn’t know this angry mother who felt violated by her child’s curiosity over a bottle.

Chris shoved down the cuffs of her blouse. Gently, she cupped Audrey’s cheek. “Mama’s so sorry we had a fight. A few more days and we’ll go home and—”

“I wanna go home now. Please, let’s go home.”

Chris withdrew her apologetic touch and looked away, needing to distance herself from the sight of Audrey, the shrill pitch of her demands. Waves of confusion beat at her but receded beneath the lapping vision of a white-hot night too stunning for any sane woman to regret.

Avoiding Audrey’s gaze, she patted her head. “We’ll go home on New Year’s Day, just the way we planned.”

“No!” The stamp of a small foot emphasized her shout.

“Damn it, that is enough out of you! The world does not revolve
around you, Audrey Nicholson. When Mama says it’s time to go home,
then
we’ll go home. Do you understand me?”

“You old meanie! I’m glad you’re goin’ away,
glad.
I hope you stay away with your dumb old Greg, and never, ever come back!” The door slammed and Chris could hear Audrey sobbing as she ran down the hall. She heard Rick’s, “Slow down, half-pint, what’s wrong?”

What was wrong?
Nothing’s wrong,
Chris told herself as she covered her face with her hands and struggled for as many breaths as it would take to clear her head. She had to think.
Think,
damn it. Damn it, she’d actually cursed at Audrey, lashed out at her child as she never had before. They had always been so close, and at the moment she was glad, really glad, that Audrey was gone.

God, she felt guilty for that, and for so many things. For wanting her child gone, for selfishly wanting some private something just for herself, for letting Audrey think the worst of Greg because it was easier than admitting
she
was the one who didn’t want the intrusion on her sex life tonight.

Chris chafed her wrists. She wasn’t herself, not at all. Maybe she
should
go home.

Her mind was in chaos, a battleground where Audrey’s retreating sobs gave way to a rich dreamscape of decadence. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be there.
There,
on her back, feeling the mattress beneath her, taking Greg’s weight, reveling in being covered by his body’s pressure. There she wanted to be and it was there she escaped, to a precious place of discovery, frightening and full of wonder. A place where she was anything but a mother….

L
EATHER AND SILK CINCHED
in one fist, his other like a steel band gripping both her wrists. His knees straddling her
chest, he loomed large, towering above her like some mighty warrior with the spoils of victory at his feet.

His whisper then: “I’d never hurt you. That’s why I want to know everything’s all right between us here before we take this where I’m wanting to go.”

“And where is that?”

“Somewhere we’ve never been, a place we create just for ourselves to see what we find along the way as it happens. But to get there you’ll have to take the first step: I want you to give me permission to take control.”

Eyes fixed on the belt and tie, she said quietly, “You’ll be wanting to use those.”

“Absolutely. But they’re merely a means to an end. What I’m asking for, Chris, is for you to trust me to treat your body with the same care you’d treat mine were our roles reversed.”

The clutch of anxiety she felt as he asked for absolute control, absolute trust, collided with a daredevil high that was more frightening than lying prone and helpless and at his mercy. How well did she know Greg,
really?
It was then she realized this was more than a game. He wanted to strip them down to the core, expose them both for who they really were beneath their civilized veneers.

Her courage faltered even as anticipation soared.

“What if I ask you to untie me? Will you?”

“Only if you say… ‘Roses.’
Roses,
that’s the password to signal me to stop. If you say ‘Stop,’ I won’t. You see, I want to play out a fantasy where a ‘Stop’ from you might be very exciting to me.”

“A fantasy? You mean, pretend something that’s not real?”

“A fantasy is no longer a fantasy when it becomes reality,
ma chérie.
”

“Excuse me?”

“‘Non, non,
monsieur! S’il vous plaît, nonl’
would be a more apt response from a prisoner I’ve captured and intend to use for my own pleasure. It’s a neat bit of revenge I can’t resist since you’re a fair
mademoiselle
born and bred by my enemy. The keep you call home is soon to be mine, just as you will be. I lust for your family’s land. I lust for you.”

“But why?” she asked, intrigued by the story he wove. “Why are we your enemy and why do you want to steal what’s ours?”

“There’s bad blood between us,
ma fille.
The land is rich and many hands tend the grape arbors your father stole from my own before you were conceived. As a boy I watched my father cut down. Only I escaped, and now, with twenty years of rage for injustice, I’ve returned to seize back my rightful claim. It is a day of reckoning for which you will atone, as well.”

“But you said I wasn’t even born and—”

“Silence! I’ll have silence from you who have slept in my bed while I made my own on the grounds of strangers. You’ve eaten at my table and feasted when I made my meals from wild game and scraps of bread. No one to turn to, our allies were overthrown as we were. But a bitter wind blows and with it comes war. The men riding with me I’ve chosen for their skill with a saber, their loyalty proved from our days spent as renegades—but we are outlaws no more. We
are
the law and I am the officer in command. They follow my orders now, circling us in the woods where I rode you down.

“See the wildflowers you were gathering crushed beneath my horse’s hooves, feel the warm air on your breasts, barely covered. Your clothes are in tatters. How foolish but how brave you were to struggle with me. Scratches cover my face and my blood runs hot as I force you to the ground.
Look around you and see four saplings—two at your head, two at your feet. Is your heart pounding?”

“Yes…
yes
.” The four posts took on the semblance of tree trunks and she jerked her head from side to side, staring at their ominous positions, suddenly struggling to free her wrists.

“That’s it,
fight me.
You know what I mean to do and—”

“Stop!” Grappling with him, she freed one hand and thrust at his chest. His laughter was dark and mocked her lesser strength as he easily pinned her flailing arm beneath her twisting weight and she again cried, “Stop!”

“Stop? I don’t think so. The more you fight me, the more I want you. Feel how hard I am bearing down on your hips, my mouth covering yours to taste the sweet sound of your cries for help.” His lips were brutally sweet, stealing her breath while she felt the cinch of silk around her wrist before he led her to grip the wood. Holding it tight, holding on for dear life, she whimpered, “No, no,” and made a token resistance as he knotted the tie around the sapling post.

And then her other hand was pulled from beneath her. The tingle of circulation rushed through her fingers and ripples of arousing sensation shot from the soft scrape of teeth on her palm to the fierce tug low in her belly.

His nipping bites became a giving kiss pressed to where her pulse leapt in her wrist. She was riveted by the sudden snap of his belt cracking the sense-thick air, and then came the stern feel of leather looped around her wrist and fed through a buckle. It felt snug and warm as a harness while his murmured words in French mingled with the sight of him twining the belt around and around the wood.

A satisfied smile was on his lips as he taunted, “For shame,
chérie,
you’ve given up to the enemy much too easily. I’d hoped for a challenge but you’re simply lying there while I stand over you and start to unfasten my breeches. Listen to my men cheering me on, eager for their turn at you once I’m through.”

“You mean to rape me?” Fantasy and reality merged and she jerked against the restraints. “The hell you’ll do such a thing! Let me go now.
Now!
”

“I’ll let you go when and only when you’re too weak to stand, much less walk. But as for rape…no. Rape would be too easy and I want a better victory.” His thighs clamped around her legs that kicked futilely beneath him. “What spirit you have, after all. Certainly a worthy opponent to battle in bed. No, I don’t believe I’ll share you with my men. In fact, I’ve decided I don’t even like them looking at you, so I order them to move on, to scout the area until I join them. And should I not appear by sunset—which is a distinct possibility—they are to make camp. You would do well to please me since it would buy your family freedom for another day.”

Rising up, he clamped a palm between her legs and she bucked against his possessive grip. “I’ll have this and you’ll give it to me willingly.”

“Never,” she gasped. “Never under threat by a tyrant who wants to gloat over his conquest.”

“I can see that bringing my feisty prisoner to heel is a worthy vengeance in itself. You’ll vow your fealty to me once I prove what a generous master I can be. Indeed, I should think you grateful for me staking my territory and dispatching my men. Not so bad a fate, being afforded my protection.”

“Grateful? Once you’re finished with me, you plan to
attack my family and I’m supposed to be
grateful?
” She stared at him, shocked to realize this was more than make-believe. He was giving her a rare access to his soldier’s mentality.

“Yes, grateful. I’m powerful but I like to think of myself as fair, even when I’m taking the life of someone I don’t even know. It’s power that I thirst for and it’s power which allows me to show mercy to those who deserve freedom. But, unfortunately,
you
don’t deserve freedom or mercy at the moment. No battle is begun without the intent to win and I intend to win the ground I covet between your legs.” Suddenly, he was off the bed and holding up a Swiss knife he’d taken from the pants he’d left folded on a boudoir chair.