California Caress (46 page)

“Last week?!” Hope shook her head emphatically and the chestnut waves tossed at her waist. “She couldn’t have. I just got a letter from her today saying—wait a minute. How did
you
know about Bentley? I only met her three weeks ago. You couldn’t possibly have—”

“Yes, I could have. She’s—oh boy, this is tougher than I thought it would be—” His cheeks flooded with color and Drake grinned rakishly, hoping to soften the blow. “Bentley Stillwell’s my great-aunt, sunshine. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t see the resemblance. Everybody always comments on how much we look alike.”

“Stillwell? Your what?” she asked flatly. She hadn’t heard him right. She
couldn’t
have heard him right!

“My great-aunt. My grandmother’s sister. My mother’s aunt. My great-uncle’s wife. My—”

“Why you rotten, no-good, son-of-a—” Hope’s jaw tightened as she planted her hands against his chest and pushed for all she was worth.

“Arrrgh!” Drake stumbled backwards and his bare foot caught on a forked tree branch. He tumbled over the bank, landing in the icy river with a splash. He came up wiping the water from his face, gasping for air and shivering. Droplets of water spattered the air like tiny crystals as he shook his head.

He squinted against the sun and looked at Hope on the bank. The arrogant smile was still in place, although the sensuous lips were now etched blue. “Guess this means you don’t want to hear about the taxes I paid on your land, huh?” he asked with that endearing, lopsided grin.

“Why, you—!” Hope kicked the ground in frustration, then spotted his nice, dry, clothes. With a sly grin, she scooped them all up and delivered the pile to Drake in the river.

His undershorts were caught by the current and immediately started to float away. Drake swore hotly and dove after them. Her anger quickly thawed and she started to laugh when he stubbed his toe on a buried rock, which caused him to curse even louder—and with such imagination!

“Think this is funny, do you, wench?” he growled, tossing his soaking wet clothes to dry land before wading to the bank. “Well, let’s see how
you
like it, shall we?”

Like a panther, he crawled out of the water and stalked threateningly toward her, a menacing grin turning his lips. His wet body glistened magnificently in the flickering sunlight.

Instinctively, Hope backed up a step, then another. Soon she was running. He caught her easily—as if she’d ever harbored a doubt that he wouldn’t.

“No, Drake, don’t!” she pleaded, pummeling his chest and trying to scoot away.

With one arm under her knees, and the other around her waist, he lifted her high in the air. His cold, water-slick skin pressed against her side, and he laughed when she clung to his neck, trembling.

“No, Drake, don’t!” he mimicked, as he reached the bank and tossed her into the twisting river.

The water was ice cold, but Hope wasn’t given a chance to notice. In an instant he had joined her, and caught her to him before she could break the surface.

They came up kissing, their bodies pressing hungrily together.

Hope splashed a liberal amount of water in his face. “Be glad your gun’s still on the bank, or I’d be sorely tempted to put a bullet through you. How dare you send your aunt after me? Didn’t you think I could make it to Virginia on my own?”

“My great-aunt," he corrected. "I knew you’d figure out how to catch a ship eventually, but that’s not why I sent her.” She frowned and Drake smoothed the angry creases from her brow. “I thought you needed to talk to someone about what was bothering you. Since you wouldn’t talk to me, I sent Bentley. She has a way about her, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I noticed.”

“I figured she’d be able to get you to talk, or she’d kill you trying.” He flashed her his most charming grin and pulled her roughly against his body. The current lapped at their naked flesh. “It worked, didn’t it? My logic wasn’t all wrong.”

“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly “It worked. But I still don’t like it. Imagine! The woman never even told me who she was, although she did say she was going to meet her great-nephew’s fiancée. Constantly, now that I think about it.” Hope smiled weakly as she ran the tip of her finger from his throat to his navel. The cold water, combined with the eternal warmth of his skin, made her tremble. “I should have guessed. There really is a resemblance.”

“You’re not mad?”

“You bet I’m mad!” She tweaked a chest hair for emphasis. Smiling sweetly, she batted the thick fringe of red-tipped lashes when Drake yelped and grabbed her wrist. “But I’ll get over it. Now, tell me what this job is,” she insisted as she nuzzled his neck and licked the moistness from his skin. Her hips wiggled against his. “You’ve got me intrigued.”

Drake pulled away with a husky groan. “I won’t be telling you a damn thing if you keep doing that. Tell me about your job offer first. If my memory serves me right, I think I like your deals better—if the first one is anything to go by.” His grin would have charmed the skin off a cat, and Hope blushed scarlet at the mention of their first drunken encounter. “The pay-up is fantastic.”

“Un-uh, you first. Mind can wait.”
For a while,
she thought. When she looked up, his expression had grown serious.

“It’s a good job, but I want you to think it over before you decide. I—” he hesitated. The words he’d so carefully rehearsed on his way to Virginia seemed to flow away from him with the steadily pulling current. “I want you to be my wife, sunshine.” Hope stiffened, and he rushed on. “Let me explain first. This won’t be like last time. Last time I would have done damn near anything to keep you near me until I was done with Charles. I was wrong. I should have just told you the truth then, or married you, I’m not sure which. But this time is different. This time the offer is for real.” Drake reached up and stroked the dampness from Hope's trembling jaw with the back of his hand. “I want you to marry me. Say yes, sunshine. Although I wouldn’t blame you a bit, I don’t think I could stand it if you refused me. I love you, Hope Bennett—more, probably, than I have a right to.”

“Oh, Drake.” A tear slipped down her cheek, mixing with the drops of water clinging to her skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The feel of his hard, wet body pressing against her awoke a burning desire that had been too long denied. “I’ve never wanted anything else,” she sighed against his firm shoulder. “Of course I’ll marry you. I’d be proud to be your wife.”

The air left his lungs in a rush as he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her until she too was breathless.

“My turn,” Hope said, ending the kiss before she no longer had the willpower to deny his tongue’s insistent probing. “Don’t you want to hear my job offer?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, busily planting tiny, hot kisses on the long taper of her neck, her cheek, her brow.

“Stop that!” She slapped his arm, grabbing his attention. “Be serious for a minute, will you? This is important. Now, I want you to know that this is a long-term position, with a
very
impressive title. But you need qualifications.”

One golden brow cocked high in the sun-kissed forehead. “Qualifications?” he tensed. “What kind of qualifications?”

She sighed thoughtfully, a finger tapping her pursed lips. “Let’s see, you’ll need patience, a willingness to learn, and a very strong stomach. Wisdom would help,” she winked, “but it isn’t necessary. Mind you, if you aren’t interested, I can find someone else.”

“And the title of this prestigious position?”

“Papa,” she said simply. “What do you say, gunslinger? Are you interested?”

His face drained white as his hold automatically loosened. “Papa? You mean you’re—” that I’m—? Where are you going?! Hope Bennett-soon-to-be-Frazier, you get back here,” Drake growled threateningly. “
Hope!”

Too late. When his grip had slackened, Hope had waded away and scampered up the bank. He watched as she ran naked toward the trees, her wet hair slapping her back and rump as her laughter floated on the cool afternoon breeze. He bolted after her.

“'Find someone else', will you?” he bellowed as he sprang onto the bank. “Over my dead body!”

She hid behind the thick trunk of a maple tree, peeking out at him as he deftly hunted her down. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to contain her laughter.

Drake would find her, of course. She could count on that. He had promised he always would, and with all her heart, Hope believed him.

The End

Excerpt from

Perfect Strangers

by

Rebecca Sinclair

© 1996, 2011 by Rebecca Sinclair

Gabrielle sneezed, sniffled, then wiped her eyes and nose on the cloth. Distracted, it took a second for the reality of the situation to seep in. Sweet Lord, she was alone in the chamber with none other than The Black Douglas. Her heartbeat accelerated, heating the already fevered blood in her veins. She shivered and yanked the blanket up protectively close beneath her chin.

"Cold?" Connor asked as he eased himself onto Mairghread's recently vacated seat. The wooden chair legs groaned beneath his weight.

"Aye, a bit chilly," Gabrielle lied. Her shiver had nothing to do with the damp night air and everything to do with this man's commanding presence. However, there was no reason
he
should know that.

"Then Mairghread was right for once. 'Tis maun soup ye be needing to warm ye up on the inside and chase away those fever chills." Gabrielle watched, transfixed, as he dipped the spoon into the soup, coming up with a hearty mouthful. Compared to the gnarled old hand that had so recently held it, Connor's big hand dwarfed the spoon handle until the utensil looked sized for a child. "Here ye go, lass. Eat up and get well. The preacher will not wait fore'er, don't ye ken?"

"If you're thinking... Oh, nay, I will
not.
I
—"
Her words were cut short as, seizing the opportunity of her open mouth, Connor shoved the spoonful of soup past her lips. He used the bowl of the spoon to not only catch the drop of broth that trickled down her chin but to also nudge her gaping mouth shut before more broth could spill out.