The Minister's Maid (2 page)

Ian knew he should stop her, knew he shouldn't encourage her. But so help him, when she pressed her lips tentatively to his, he didn't pull away. And when she flicked her tongue against his lower lip, teasing him for more he pulled her roughly against his chest, opened his mouth and gave what she asked for.

She tasted sweet, the innocent flavor of bubble gum mixing with the mild tingle of her peppermint lip gloss. Then again, forbidden fruit always was sweeter, he thought as he explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue. Ignoring his conscience, he kissed down the column of her long, slender neck. She urged him on, running her fingers through his hair and he gladly moved lower still, pulling the collar of her dress down to expose one pretty, pert breast. He laved around the aureole with his tongue then sucked the pebbled nub between his lips, earning a shocked gasp.

"Oh Ian, yes. Right there - so good..."

He glanced up and her head had fallen back, her skin taunt and glowing under his ministrations. In the dim light from the lamp, she looked like an angel, sent from heaven as a gift just for him. She lifted her head, smiling down on him with half-closed eyelids, those long lashes nearly sweeping over her cheeks as she held his gaze. Taking his head in both of her hands, she pulled him up for another long, hot mind-bending kiss. Then pulling back just far enough to put a scant inch between them, she whispered against his lips.

"Fuck me, Ian."

A glass of cold water wouldn't have been more effective, Ian thought, as her choice of words reminded him of just how different they really were. He pulled back and turned away, taking a few deep breaths in order to compose himself. This next part wasn't going to be fun and if he knew Betsy, she was about to throw a fit.

"I'm sorry," he started, not turning around just yet. "I should never have done that. I shouldn't have betrayed your trust or given in to my baser instincts. Forgive me?"

He turned around, surprised that she hadn't jumped in yet, but she was nowhere in sight. Gone.

Mixed emotions swam through his veins as he grabbed his cell phone off the desk and a jacket from the coat rack and ran out the door. What if Derek was really at the ranch? She was out there alone somewhere, and it was all his fault. He vowed then and there not to let her out of his sight again.

* * *

Hot tears fell as Betsy ran across the compound, humiliation and sadness pressing so tightly in her chest that it was hard to breath. She'd known the second the words passed her lips that she'd gone too far. How could she have been so stupid, thinking Ian would just fall into her arms, forgetting everything in her past life? It wasn't his religion holding him back, she knew. He wasn't bound by any vows of celibacy, but he was a good man. Honorable. And sleeping with someone like her...well. She imagined it wouldn't look all that great to his peers, much less his God. He was probably praying for forgiveness right now, along with salvation for her poor, misguided soul.

A little voice in the back of her head told her she was being unfair, striking out at him because she was angry. Ian wasn't that kind of man. But the fear and indignity pervading her thoughts were louder, and as she stumbled through the back door of the mansion she vowed to stay away from him from that point forward. She was done. Finished.

Making her way down to the sub-basement where she and Harley lived, she toed off her heels and swiped at her eyes as she walked the long corridor to her suite. A noise from the other end of the hall kicked her heart rate up and she froze, turning around slowly. Had Derek found a way down here somehow? Suddenly the walls seemed to close in as steady footsteps shuffled closer. She backed away, wondering if she could lock herself in her rooms before he reached her. She glanced over her shoulder to check the distance, just as the footsteps stopped.

"Betsy? Are you okay?"

The familiar female voice made her want to weep with relief. She nodded, suddenly self-conscious in front of her sister-in-law, but thankful to see her all the same. "I...yes," she said, not sure how much of the evening she wanted to admit to. Harley had married Monica recently just to keep her safe from her overbearing father, and in light of what they were going through, her own problems seemed paltry. She laughed nervously, blinking quickly to disperse the tears. "Just some guy trouble," she said, waving it off with one hand. "You know how men are."

Monica nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "Yes I do," she said quietly. "Come on, let's talk."

"It's kind of messy," Betsy said as they reached her door, sliding the key into the lock. I've been working extra shifts lately, and--" Something cold and hard poked her stockinged foot and she looked down, spying a manila envelope with a brass clasp. "What's this?"

Monica shrugged. "Were you expecting something?"

Betsy frowned, turning the envelope over to check for a label. It was blank.

"No," she said, bending the metal tabs up and lifting the flap. "No one else is supposed to be down here, not even the staff. If you didn't leave it..." She held the sides apart so she could peer in at the single sheet of paper. Sliding it out, she stared down at the image for a moment, her mind refusing to process what it was seeing.

Monica reached for the page, gasping as she took in the meaning. "Lock the--wait, this was inside the door, right?" Betsy nodded, still stunned. "Come on," Monica said, grabbing her hand and tugging her quickly back out into the hall. She slammed the door behind them and pulled Betsy away from her suite. "Whoever left that could still be in there...we need to call Harley." They reached the suite that Harley and Monica shared and locked themselves inside. Only then did Monica pull her cell phone out of her pocket.

"Maybe it's just a practical joke," Betsy offered as she perched on a stool at the kitchen counter, unable to take her eyes off the page. The words sounded flat even to her own ears, and Monica took the paper from her and turned it face down on the counter.

"Harley, it's me," she said into the phone, her hand still firmly over the page. "We have a serious problem - you need to come home right away." She paused, and Betsy could imagine the hassle her brother was giving his wife over her demand. He'd always been stubborn, and while there was definitely something between the two of them, neither seemed willing to admit it yet.

"Want me to talk to him?" she said quietly. Monica shook her head, then looked back down at the floor. "Harlan Majors, get your ass down here right now. There's something you need to see." She disconnected the call and tossed her phone on the counter, letting out a long sigh as she rubbed her forehead. "Was he always this pigheaded?"

Betsy met her gaze with a sympathetic look. "Worse, I'm afraid. He's always wanted to do exactly the opposite of what anyone tells him to do, which made for some interesting high school days." She grinned. "Not many people have the balls to talk to him like that though. I'll bet for you, he's on his way down."

Chapter 2

Right on cue, Betsy heard the front door open and slam shut. Harley came around the corner two seconds later, a scowl on his face as he glanced from one to the other, finally settling on Monica. "What the hell is going on? Why didn't you tell me Betsy was here?" He shifted to include Betsy. "Ian left a message saying Derek might be here at the ranch, is that true? Why didn't you tell me he was out?"

Betsy shook her head, blinking back a fresh set of tears. "I was going to tell you about Derek, but you've been so busy with getting married and all - I didn't want to distract you. Then I thought I saw him tonight and sort of freaked out, so I went to Ian's but we had a fight and I came home and that's when I found this." She flipped the paper over and slid it in front of him. "Monica was with me and wanted to call you so here we are."

Harley stared down at the image, his phone jangling from his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the page, he held the phone up to his ear and answered with a terse, "Yeah."

Betsy couldn't stop herself from taking just one more peek at the grotesque image that would undoubtedly haunt her dreams for a long time to come. It was a picture of her, taken recently in the same French maid outfit she still had on, so whoever had gotten it either was here or had been. Whoever left it had photo-shopped her image with a noose around her neck, hanging from the barrister of the grand double staircase on the main floor. Her wrists looked like they'd been slit, and her blood pooled on the floor below.

"We're all in my suite, Ian...come on over." Harley disconnected the call and shoved the phone down in his front pocket. Looking thoughtfully at Betsy, he reached across the counter and took one of her hands. "He sounds pretty bad, sis - what were you fighting about? Did you hit on him again?"

"I'm sure it doesn't matter," Monica said. Betsy shot her a grateful look. "Whatever the problem, I'm sure they'll get over it--"

Harley shook his head, a chuckle of disbelief escaping. "Darlin', you don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you run upstairs and make sure our guest isn't foaming at the mouth because I'm not there. I'll be up as soon as I'm done here."

Betsy's heart broke for her new sister-in-law. Ashamed, she pulled her hand out of Harley's. "Harlen Majors." No woman deserved to be treated like that. Harley's expression softened and he reached for Monica, but she ran out of the kitchen. Betsy didn't blame her. "You should go after her," she said, knowing he wouldn't, but needing to say it. "That was uncalled for and you know it. She just wanted to help."

He met her gaze, his expression one of hurt and resignation. "I'll talk to her later. Your safety is more important right now. When did Derek get out of prison?" The front door opened and shut, and she tried to brace herself, knowing it could only be one person.

"A couple weeks ago. Look, I know I should have told you, but--" she stopped, the words caught in her throat as Ian appeared in the doorway behind Harley. Their eyes met, briefly, but she looked away, unable to face the regret in them. Her face flamed as the minister rounded the counter to stand beside her.

Harley pushed the photo across the counter to Ian. "Someone left this under her door. We need to get her out of here, at least until I can figure out what's going on with Derek."

Ian nodded. "I’ll take her. We can be gone in an hour." He grabbed the photo and flipped it over, hot, angry vibes coming off his body in waves.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Betsy said quietly, her eyes on the stone counter top. "If I run, he wins."

"If you run, you stay alive," Harley countered. "I've got all sorts of crap going on here right now, and Derek is just one more thing. I'll find him, and I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, but you have to get out of here so I won't be worried about you every second of the day." He curled a hand over Ian's shoulder. "I really appreciate this. I don't care where, and I don't need to know, just find somewhere safe to hole up for a week or so. Charge it to the ranch."

"But I--" Betsy stood up, ready to fight. How dare they pass her around like some errant child in need of babysitting! She trembled where she stood, her muscles tied in knots of anger and frustration.

Harley held his hand up, giving her a stern look. "He's the only one I trust to take care of you, sis. Don't argue. Just go." He walked around the counter and gave her a quick hug, then headed for the door, pausing to glance back over his shoulder. "Don't give him any trouble, Bets. This is serious." Without waiting for an answer, he walked out, leaving her alone with her fear and the one man who could only make things worse.

Betsy bit her lower lip as the door slammed behind Harley. Keenly aware of Ian's presence, she didn't dare look his direction. Her face burned with embarrassment, not just because of what happened earlier in his office, but for being passed off on him like some recalcitrant child. Could this day get any more humiliating?

"You know he's right," Ian said, with none of the censure she'd expected in his tone. "There's no shame in staying safe."

She shook her head. He didn't understand. No one did. There was a reason Derek had tried to kill her before, aside from the alcohol problem everyone had blamed his actions on. He wouldn't stop hunting her until he got what he wanted, or until she was dead, preferably both. A chill settled in the base of her spine at the thought.

"You don't get it," she said quietly, pretending to examine her chipped French manicure. "He won't stop until he finds me. He can't."

"Tell me." It wasn't a request, it was a command. Ian stepped closer, hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her head to look at him. "It's important that I know what we're dealing with if I'm going to protect you."

She pulled away, turning the stool and sliding off so she could put some distance between them. "I...we did some things, Derek and I, that I'm not proud of. And some of them resulted in a lot of money that we hid in offshore accounts. We put them under my name, because he was sure the government was watching him. Probably paranoia from the alcohol and drugs. Derek always worried about our 'electric money' disappearing, so little by little we exchanged it for gold coins. He said he always wanted to know what a real chest full of treasure would look like." She shook her head, the story sounding cheesy even to her own ears.

"We'd take enough money out of the bank for a few coins, and buy them a couple at a time so no one would get suspicious. He had a woodworker make him a wooden chest, and we'd put the coins in there. He even hid it in a cave on his property, even though I warned him it could all easily just disappear. But he was caught up in the pirate-like reality he'd created for himself."

Ian shifted behind her, and Betsy turned to see him leaning against the counter, watching her thoughtfully. "How did you do it?" he asked quietly.

She shrugged. "He was losing touch with reality more each day, drinking enough to forget. So I started taking a few coins here and there, thinking I'd need some money when I finally got the courage to leave. Then I left, and after he found me and almost killed me..." she met Ian's hard stare straight on. "I felt like I deserved the rest."