The Seductive Impostor (32 page)

I
t wasn't a nuclear explosion
—it was more a hard blow to the chest that started his heart racing the moment Kee opened the kitchen door and found Mickey and the box on his porch.

Mickey sat up with a yawn, stretched back on his haunches, then trotted past Kee and down the hall toward Mikaela's bedroom.

Kee stood in the doorway and stared down at the box.

Now what was her game?

He knew the box was from Rachel; his name was scrawled across the top in bold black letters formed with the precision of an architect. He looked out at the road beyond, barely visible in the early morning light, then back at the box.

He was tempted to give it a good kick and send it flying.

What was she up to that she couldn't deliver the box in person? Kee bent over and picked it up, somewhat surprised by how light it was. He carried it into the kitchen and set it on the table.

Duncan strolled into the kitchen. “What's that?” he asked with a yawn, coming to stand beside Kee.

“It's from Rachel,” Kee said, not taking his eyes off the box.

“Ya don't seem in much of a hurry to open it,” Duncan softly observed. He chuckled. “In fact, you're looking as if ya think it's going to explode in your face.”

Kee looked at Duncan. “That possibility did occur to me.”

Duncan waved that away with another chuckle, walked to the counter and pulled a knife from a drawer, and came back to the table. “I'll open it then,” he said, slitting the tape and lifting the top flaps.

Kee brushed him aside, pulled out the packing paper on top, then stared into the box.

Duncan sucked in his breath on a whistle.

With a slightly trembling hand, Kee reached in and pulled the item out of its nest of packing paper.

“The Cup of Virtue,” Duncan whispered. “She's had it all along.”

Kee set the dull-patinated chalice on the table, pulled the folded piece of paper out of its bowl, and read the note.

Kee took Rachel's porch steps two at a time and, without knocking, strode into her house, shouting her name.

He found her sitting on the couch, her feet curled beneath her, sipping what looked like a glass of orange juice.

Kee stood in the living room doorway and crossed his arms over his chest—mostly to keep his hands from shaking.

Rachel took another sip of juice.

“You're pregnant,” he whispered, proud of the fact that his voice hadn't cracked from saying it out loud.

She shrugged. “I promised to tell you,” she said with maddening calm, setting down her drink and standing up. “I'm not just guessing. I took a home pregnancy test.”

Kee's ability to speak utterly and completely failed him.

Rachel, apparently, had no such problem. “But this child is going to cost you a bit more than Mikaela, I'm afraid,” she told him, crossing her own arms over her chest.

He still couldn't speak, probably because his heart was stuck in his throat. But he did manage to lift one brow.

She shrugged again. “Although that depends on how you measure cost.” Her chin lifted. “I don't wear jewelry, so a simple wedding band shouldn't set you back too much.” She took a step toward him. “And this house was designed for a family, but I will be just as happy living on a schooner.”

Kee's heart slowly started to settle back down in his chest, but was still pounding with the force of a runaway train.

“Your greatest expense, the way I see it, will be passion,” she continued, taking another step closer. “And that might cost you more than you're willing to pay.”

She stepped even closer. “I won't compromise on this, Kee. I will swallow my pride, apologize for being a stupid fool, give you my trust without question, and beg forgiveness. But I will not give up passion.”

She took another step closer, bringing her mere inches from him. “Can you afford that?” she whispered. “Can you afford to love me?”

Kee finally found his voice. “I believe I can manage that,” he said softly. Carefully, gently, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, against his still racing heart. “If you let me swallow my own pride, apologize for being a stupid fool, accept my trust without question, and allow me to beg forgiveness, I can promise you a lifetime of passion.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and let out a deep sigh as she snuggled even closer against him. Kee used her braid to tilt her head back and found himself looking down into beautiful hazel-green eyes shining with promise.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too,” he told her back.

Her face suddenly flushed. “Promise to remember that when I show my treasure trove of stolen art.”

“All of it?” he asked.

“Every damn last item from Sub Rosa, near as I can tell,” she confirmed, trying to wiggle away. “It's in a secret room my dad built over the pantry.”

Kee wouldn't let her go. He swept her into his arms and, instead of heading to the pantry, started up the stairs to her bedroom. “You can show me later,” he said thickly, taking the steps two at a time.

He strode into her bedroom and gently set her down on the narrow bed, quickly covering her body with his and kissing her cute little nose. “It's not every day a demigod gets a marriage proposal from a goddess.”

He felt her chest puff up against his. “A goddess?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Kee kissed her nose again, then nodded. “A passionate goddess. And there is no greater treasure, Rachel, than knowing you're carrying my child.”

Kee finally kissed her full on the mouth, deeply and passionately, showing Rachel exactly what a treasure she was.

And he would wait, he decided, to tell her that she'd had only one more week before he'd stolen her away on the
Six-to-One
—no, the
Seven-to-Two Odds
—and proposed to her himself.

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