Rexanne Becnel (46 page)

“You want to invite half of Chicago here when someone’s trying to kill you? Absolutely not!”

“You don’t know they’re really after me,” she protested, refusing to let him sabotage her project before it could even get under way. “You’re the one who hunts down all sorts of people. It’s much more likely that someone has a grudge against you, revenge for something you did to him in the past. There’s just no reason for someone to want to hurt me.”

“Maybe. But until we know for sure, there’s no way you’re opening these grounds to so many people.”

“All right, then,” Abby conceded, casting about for an idea more acceptable to him. “What if we do a series of these receptions and limit the number of people? You could have a complete guest list in advance—like you do for the meeting my grandfather is hosting here for the stockholders. In fact,” she continued, getting excited about the possibilities, “I could tell him to have the stockholders bring their wives along. The children could sing—”

A loud wail broke into her determined sales pitch. At the far end of the lawn near a half-hidden pergola, a group of children crowded around a slight form crumpled upon the grass.

By the time Tanner and Abby rushed over, the child, Rosemary, was sitting up—a good sign. But the little girl pressed one hand to her left eye, all the time howling that Cliff had poked it out with a stick. Abby knelt beside Dorothy, who was trying to console the other child. Dorothy looked up at Abby, her worried eyes brimming with tears.

“Rosie would feel lots better if her mother was here.”

Immediately Rosemary took up the lament. “I want my mama. I want my mama!”

Abby swept the child into her arms, reassured that the physical injury was slight. But the little girl had been wounded deep in her soul—as had all of these children. Abby still longed for the unconditional love and guidance her mother had always offered. How much worse for these children—these babies.

Her own eyes stung with tears, but she sternly held them back. When she looked over at Tanner, however, she nearly lost that hard-won control. He crouched on his heels just across from her, with Cliff in the circle of his arms and three other little ones draped over him. What had started as curiosity and mild concern on the part of the other youngsters for Rosemary’s injury had turned without warning into a mournful yearning on all their parts for what they no longer had. Rosemary voiced the need they all felt: they wanted their mothers, their fathers. A family to love them. They clung to any adult who showed them the least sign of affection.

Abby watched as Tanner’s hand slid comfortingly up and down Cliff’s thin arm. Beneath his creased brow, however, Abby knew Tanner saw the same desperate need in these children that she saw. His eyes had never appeared bluer than at that moment, and she knew before he formed the words just what he would say.

“All right,” he began, reluctant and slow. “All right. We’ll have your receptions. But only if you follow all my precautions.”

She could have kissed him right then and there, in the middle of her grandfather’s grandiose landscape and surrounded by over a dozen sniffling children. But Rosemary was in Abby’s lap, and Cliff occupied Tanner’s. So Abby contented herself by kissing the little girl on her forehead and smoothing back the thick curls that were damp now, both from tears and from the midsummer heat.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not even trying to hide the love that shone in her eyes for Tanner. “Thank you.”

Abby stood in the driveway, waving at the coach full of children until it was lost behind a tall hedge of strictly pruned hornbeam. Perhaps, with any luck, she would find families for at least some of them. She continued to stare down the gravel drive, her mind spinning with plans and ideas. Teaching was rewarding. Writing her stories was stimulating and fun. But finding a happy home for even one of these children …

She trailed off with a sigh, then turned, eager to find Tanner and put her plan into motion. But it was Patrick who came down the wide granite steps toward her. It was all she could do to hide her disappointment behind a pleasant expression.

“Oh, hello, Patrick. How are you?”

When his only reply was a wry smile and a long, steady perusal of her, she shifted from one foot to the other. “I, ah … I hope the children’s games didn’t disturb you in the library.”

“No, Abigail. For my own part I hardly noticed they were here. But for your sake—” He stepped closer and took her two hands in his. “I worry that you overtax yourself with them. All day. Every day. I have a suggestion, though. Why don’t you allow me to take you into town this evening? There is actually a rather notable theater company in town performing vignettes from
Hamlet, Othello,
and
Macbeth.
”

Tragedies. Her least favorite literary form. But Abby smiled. “You are more than kind to offer.”

“But it’s more than an offer, my dear.” He smiled warmly, but his hands tightened determinedly about hers. “I vow I shall not allow you to say no. Your grandfather agrees with me that you bury yourself among those children and neglect the rest of society.”

“It’s
his
idea that I be confined to the grounds. Not mine.”

He pursed his lips ruefully, looking smooth and very handsome. Rather tempting if she’d been in the least inclined toward him. “Yes, he has confined you. I know. I also know how limiting that must be for you. But he’ll be away this evening. He’ll never have to know. And I will guard you with my very life,” he finished.

Though Abby chafed under the limitations her grandfather and Tanner had set, at the moment she was grateful for them. She pulled her hands free of Patrick’s with no small effort. “Your offer is very thoughtful, but I could not possibly go along with such a duplicitous plan.”

Patrick didn’t bother to disguise his absolute fury as he watched Abby walk away. The conniving little bitch! Between Willard’s fawning eagerness to keep her happy and McKnight’s menacing presence as her guard dog, she now thought every man must dance to her tune. If she went too far, however, he would be forced to pull the rug out from under her.

The attack on the coach the night of the Hamiltons’ party had been meant to rid himself of McKnight once and for all. With him out of the picture Patrick would have stepped in and with Willard’s support would ultimately have succeeded in coercing her into marriage. He would have finally had the entire Hogan dynasty under his control—and Abigail’s sweet little body as an added treat. But the fools he’d hired had botched it.

That was twice now. Twice that his hirelings had failed. Twice that McKnight had been the one to foil his plans.

But the third time would be the charm. She’d turned down his offer of the theater tonight. He’d thought to get her tipsy and then let things get out of hand. He was certain she would never be able to fend off his amorous attentions once her guard was weakened by strong drink. One quick indiscretion followed by his heartfelt confession to Willard with an offer to make things right by marrying her. However it occurred, it would accomplish the same end results. Only now he’d have to manage the seduction here, in her own home.

With deliberate precision he relaxed his clenched jaw, then shook out the tense fists he’d made. Time to go courting.

And if she proved too wily to be caught? Well, maybe the person seeking to hurt her would have to make another attempt. Only this time Patrick had no intention of leaving it to some
bumbling fool. This time he’d have to find a way to get rid of her himself.

If
it came to that.

Abby schooled her face into a more pleasant expression as she hurried into the house. She should not let Patrick’s overly friendly attention bother her so. After all, today’s invitation could simply be his way of saying he held no hard feelings after her refusal to consider his offer of marriage.

But the way he’d held on to her hands. She shook her head, trying to drive the unsettling thought away. The fact was, she would be very glad when business demanded that he return to his New York office.

“What was that all about?”

Abby whirled around, and her hand flew to her throat in surprise. Tanner stood just inside the morning-room door. Waiting for her? She hoped so as she sought to regain her composure. Or was he just watching over her as he was paid to do?

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You mean Patrick?” She affected a careless attitude. “He was kind enough to offer to take me to the theater. Sadly I had to remind him that I am confined to the house.” She sent him a curious look “Would you have let me go?”

He shut the door behind her. “No.”

“Even if you’d come along to protect me?”

“He wouldn’t have agreed to that.”

Abby weighed his words carefully. “Does that mean you would have let me go alone with him?”

“I already said no.”

“But if my grandfather had agreed, if Patrick and I had gone anyway. What would you have done then?”

She was goading him. It was clear to her and probably to him as well. But Abby didn’t care. She stepped closer, gazing up into the unsmiling face of the one man she wanted but who for his own perverse reasons held her off. “Would you have followed us anyway?”

“That doesn’t really matter since you already turned him down. You’re not going.”

His words were curt, but she saw his throat flex in a swallow.

“Maybe I’ll change my mind,” she whispered breathlessly.

He shook his head and frowned, but she saw him swallow again, and it was that solitary indication that there might be a chink in the wall of his resistance to her that made her bold. Without thinking about what she did or considering the consequences of it, she placed her hand upon his chest.

Just one touch. Just the simple press of her palm to the leather vest that covered his shirt and chest. Yet she felt the warmth of his body and the heavy thud of his heart beneath her fingers, and those two completely ordinary facets of his existence seemed to reach down into the most vital part of her. It was physical; it was emotional. It connected her to him so completely that she knew it must affect him just as much.

“Dammit, Abby—”

She silenced his muttered protest with a kiss. Even balanced on her toes she could barely reach his mouth with hers. But once the fleeting contact of their lips was made, everything changed.

Like a dam cracking beneath the pressure of a mighty flood, that hesitant kiss gave way in an instant to a crushing embrace. Tanner’s arm came around her in a grip that was at once both desperate and angry, it seemed to Abby. His mouth devoured hers with a violence that might have been meant to frighten her, or even punish her. But she met it with an answering fervor.

It was what Abby had craved for weeks, she realized with only dim awareness. It was what she would crave forever.

Tanner’s arms tightened, tilting her back as he deepened the kiss. Abby was off balance in his arms, dependent upon him to keep her from falling. But Tanner was there for her, in this as in all things, she knew. In surrendering that part of herself to him—in trusting him completely—she always found her greatest joy. And it was then that he always responded from the truest part of himself.

A delirious sort of happiness swept through her, and she opened eagerly to the demanding thrust of his tongue within the sensitive recesses of her mouth. Wanton images of them together in every way possible turned her blood to fire, and she pressed herself passionately to him. Against her belly she felt the rigid outline of his quick arousal. There was something so glorious in the knowledge, the absolute proof, that he needed her as badly as she needed him.

“Jesus, Abby,” he muttered when they broke apart for a breath.

But Abby put a finger to his lips. “No, don’t you dare try to deny this or make it less than it really is. You love me, Tanner McKnight.” She stared deep into his eyes, past the dark curtain he struggled to keep up, and into the clear blue emotions that lay beyond. “You love me,” she whispered. “Just as much as I love you.”

He shut his eyes and groaned. Then, as if he sought to silence the words he didn’t want to hear, he kissed her again. But Abby tasted the truth on his lips. Though she had initiated the kiss, he had been swift to take full possession of her mouth. Now, though she was the first to reveal her love, he nonetheless made her understand what he felt in return. For reasons that would probably never make complete sense to her, he did not want to love her. But she knew he did. She knew.

Abby could willingly have drowned in the voluptuous pleasure that overwhelmed her. As hard and dangerous a man as Tanner was, there remained a hidden place in him, a soft spot in his heart that was gentle and generous and vulnerable. He’d kept it secret a very long time, but she’d found it out. And now that she knew, now that she had all the proof she needed, she meant never to let him go.

One of his hands slid down her back, past the stiff corset she wore, to where her flesh was soft. Even through the several layers of skirt and petticoats and chemise she wore, her skin thrilled to his rough caress. “God, what am I going to do with you?” he muttered between pressing a devastating line of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, then up again to her earlobe. It was as if he knew where her most sensitive spots were, where to touch and kiss so that her entire body responded, quivering with erotic anticipation.

“I know what I would like to do with you,” she whispered, shocking herself with her bold honesty. She pressed her kisses along his jawline, reveling in the faint scratchiness that gave way to the smoother skin of his throat.

He met her searching lips with a heart-stopping kiss and moved one of his hands lower to cup her derriere. Abby writhed beneath his possessive touch. How she wanted to possess him back!

Once more he groaned, an almost pained sound. “How can you quote Scriptures and still be so—” He broke off when she pulled his head down and thrust boldly with her own tongue. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to make love with the man she loved. Now. This very minute. Right on the morning-room floor, if necessary.

“Not here,” he murmured as if he’d read her mind. His arms tightened for a moment and his fingers curved intimately into the space between her legs. Abby knew without a doubt that she would die right then and there if he did not relieve her of the terrible tension building inside her. The wonderful tension.