Captive Kisses (Sweetly Contemporary Collection) (20 page)

In an amazingly short time, the men had been rounded up and
put into the patrol cars, the state police had climbed inside, and all except
one of the vehicles were backed down the road and sent speeding out of sight.

“Duralde, are you coming?” the highest-ranking officer
called out to Charles as he prepared to step into the final car.

Charles turned from where he stood with Kelly, George, and
the senator in a group. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“You know how it is. The sheriff’s office here in this
parish will be swarming with high-powered lawyers in the next hour. Unless we
move fast, they’ll have these guys out on bail before sunup

“I’ll be right with you.”

Charles turned to Kelly, scanning her pale face there in the
headlights of the police car before he let his dark gaze run over her slim
figure in stained jeans. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said, not for the first time.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of here, not now.”

“I know that,” she answered, her voice low.

“George will be staying with you, and the senator.”

“We sure will,” George chimed in, giving a vigorous nod.

Kelly gave the man she had thought of all this time as the
guard a slight smile, then with an effort lifted her gray eyes to meet Charles’s
dark gaze. “I’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry.”

He reached out, and with a gentle touch removed a leaf that
was caught in her hair. “I won’t be long.”

“There’s no hurry,” she said, lifting her chin.

A muscle corded in his cheek and his eyes narrowed, then
abruptly he turned away. He stepped into the waiting car, slamming the door. It
reversed, swinging around Kelly’s small car before it shot down the drive and
disappeared with a final wink of red taillights.

“Well, now that the excitement is over, shall we go inside?”
the senator said.

George nodded, a faint movement in the moonlit dimness. “I
could use a drink. This riding to the rescue is enough to give a man a thirst.”

“It seems you brought back the cavalry, all right,” the
other man said. “Though I don’t take it kindly that you and Charles didn’t see
fit to tell me you expected the situation to heat up like this.”

“Mr. Duralde was afraid you might try to act the hero, come
out where you could be picked off like a sitting duck, instead of staying
inside where it was nice and safe.”

“I don’t much like the idea of other people serving as
decoys for me.”

“See there? He was pretty certain you wouldn’t go for it.
But he was sure, from the way these guys acted, that they weren’t positive you
were here with us. He thought the best thing would be to encourage them to come
in for a closer look.”

“They might have just shot everyone in sight,” the senator
objected.

“Yeah. It wasn’t in the cards for him and Kelly here to go
chasing outside. What happened there, honey?”

It was a moment before Kelly, digesting what they were
saying, realized George was speaking to her. “A — misunderstanding.”

“Must have been a humdinger for him to let you get away from
him like that, but then you’ve been giving him the devil all week, haven’t you?”

The senator, perhaps sensing Kelly’s embarrassment, said, “About
that drink, there’s a beer down at the cottage.”

“Sounds fine to me,” George said. “How about you, honey?”

“I don’t think so,” Kelly answered. “You two go ahead.”

“Wouldn’t you like to come with us, for the company?” the
senator suggested.

“I would just as soon be alone, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not for us to say one way or another, if that’s what
you want,” he returned gently.

“No,” George agreed, “but you can be sure Mr. Duralde will
have something to say if we leave you by yourself.”

“Why? I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not the point. He’s the protective sort, and he’ll
expect me to look after you while he’s not here.”

“What I do is none of his business.”

“Try telling him that.”

“I intend to!”

“You probably will. Lord, but I’m not sure which one of you
I feel sorriest for.”

“You needn’t waste your pity on me.” Kelly did not wait for
an answer, but turned on her heel and made for the steps of the veranda. She
did not think George would try to stop her, and she was right. The two men
hesitated, talking in low voices. By the time she had reached the living room
and began to close the drapes, they were moving off in the direction of the
cottage.

Kelly let her shoulders sag as she turned away from the
windows. Her wine glass, still half full, sat where she had left it on the end
table. She picked it up, lifting it to her lips to taste the pale yellow
liquid. It had grown warm, but she drank it anyway, wandering about the room
with the glass in her hand.

It was clear that Charles expected her to be there when he
got back from filling out a formal complaint against the would-be killers.
Whether by accident or design, he had made certain of it by taking her car keys
with him. Why couldn’t he have left her a way out? She wanted nothing so much
as to be gone, to never have to face Charles Duralde again after what had
passed between them. She wanted to throw her things into her suitcase and run,
putting as much distance as possible between herself and the lake house. She
wanted to leave all this behind her, to forget it as quickly and thoroughly as
she could.

She felt like such a fool. How had she come to make such a
mistake? It had been Charles’s attitude, his odd determination to have no one
know the whereabouts of the older man, all combined with the phrasing of the
words she had overheard between him and George. She was still not certain what
was going on, though she was beginning to have an idea. And yet, she would
gladly let it remain a mystery forever if it would keep her from having to see
Charles again.

Hot embarrassment flooded over her every time she thought of
the scene between them on the veranda. A diversion, George had called it. Well,
that was as good a word as any. She realized now, looking back, the reason for
the open drapes, the loud music, his invitation to dance. He had suspected the
men who had been in the boat with the spotlight the night before would be back.
He had wanted them to see a couple having a good time, enjoying each other’s
company. He hadn’t wanted her to go outside on the veranda; she remembered that
now. But once they were there, he had managed to keep the show interesting.
Only she wasn’t supposed to take it seriously, she wasn’t supposed to have jumped
up and run crying into the night.

Had he meant anything he had said, or had he just gotten
carried away with his role? He had not liked being told that she had been
play-acting. The violence of his kiss still had the power, even in memory, to
make her shiver. It was some consolation that she had not allowed him to guess
how strongly she was attracted to him. A little, but not much.

What a mess everything was. If Charles had only trusted her
enough to tell her the truth. If she had relied on her instincts that told her
he could not be a killer. If she had not let down her guard against him in her
attempts to encourage him to grow attached to her. If he had not spoken of
love, instead of the physical desire that was all she had expected him to feel.
If.

What was the use? She had fallen in love with him. She had
allowed him to get past her defenses. Regardless of what he might have felt,
she had made him despise her with pretense and distrust. That he had given her
ample reason for both made no difference. She would not get a second chance,
not in these circumstances. Not that she wanted one, of course.

Tomorrow she could leave. He had promised that much before
the excitement started. With any luck, she would do no more than say a quiet
and dignified good-bye and depart. He might feel that a few words of
explanation were called for, and if so, she would listen, but that was all. She
would go without maudlin scenes, without telling him she loved him, and with
her pride and self-respect intact.

Moving slowly, leaving the lights in the living room on
behind her, Kelly went to her bedroom. She closed the door and set her empty
wine glass down on the dresser. She picked up her hairbrush and with sudden
fierceness whipped off the blue ribbon and brushed the trash and leaves from
the gold-brown waves. That done, she undressed and put on her green nightgown.
She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Taking a deep breath, she turned
back the covers of the bed and climbed in. It was not what she wanted, but it
seemed there was nothing else for her to do. And if warm tears slid from the
corners of her eyes to make wet tracks into her hair, who was there to know?

Ten

Once before this past week she had awakened to the smell of
coffee. This seemed a repeat of that time, for the fresh aroma was strong, and
there was the glow of morning beyond her closed eyelids. Charles must be up.
She burrowed her head into the pillow, unwilling to think of him, unwilling to
leave the last gray vestiges of soothing slumber. She had not enjoyed that
oblivion for long. She had been awake, staring with burning eyes at the
ceiling, when he had returned. He had not gone to bed at once, but had paced
about in the front part of the house. It was only after he had finally settled
down in the room next to hers that she had been able to doze off. Why he was up
again so soon she could not imagine, unless he was determined to see her gone
from this place early, before he left himself.

He was an unpredictable man. On the other occasion when she
had been brought from sleep by the smell of coffee, he had invaded her room to
put the cup on her bedside table, practically under her nose.

Caution asserted itself. At the faint chink of china, her
eyes flew open. Charles stood beside her bed, just placing a cup and saucer on
the bedside table.

She rolled over, sitting up with a rush, pulling the sheet
up over her breasts. “What are you doing?”

He lifted a brow. “That must be obvious.”

“Yes,” she said, her tone acerbic as she pushed her hair
back with her fingers, “but why?”

“I wanted some answers and, as I recall, you respond better
to a compromising position than to simple questions.”

Indignation flared in her eyes. “That’s a terrible thing to
say!”

“Isn’t it?” he agreed, his smile genial.

“If you are talking about that display of sheer brute
strength you put on when you wanted to know my name —”

“You do remember?”

She did, vividly. She was not certain she would ever forget
the way he had held her on the couch with his lips fractions of an inch from
hers as he had demanded to know her name. The mere thought of it was enough to
make her face feel warm. “Why not?” she inquired. “I have never been treated so
callously in my life!”

“Maybe, but I don’t think it was the brute strength, as you
call it, or the callousness, that made you answer.”

“Just what was it then?”

“The certainty of what was going to happen if you didn’t,
something you might keep in mind now.”

She sent him a smoldering glance. “It’s all very well for
you to talk, but if anybody deserves answers, I think I do!”

“Fair enough. Where would you like to start?”

She eyed him suspiciously as he seated himself on the side
of her bed. He looked fresh and alert in an open-necked sports shirt and a pair
of twill pants, in marked contrast to the way she felt.

He waited a moment, then leaned to pick up her coffee cup,
handing it carefully to her across the width of the sheet. As she took it, his
dark gaze moved over the tousled glory of her hair, coming to rest on the
shadows under her eyes and the look of recent tears. She lowered her lashes,
sipping at the hot, aromatic brew colored slightly with cream, just the way she
liked it. When she looked up again, she was in time to see the smile that
softened the bronzed planes of his face for an instant before it vanished.

At the thought that he might be laughing at her, her lips
tightened. “To begin with,” she said, her tone hard, “who is the senator, and
why are you keeping him here?”

“His name is Landry,” Charles answered without hesitation, “and
he was a friend of my father’s. As to keeping him here, I’m not.”

“But you are. George said —”

“Yes? Just what did George say?”

She swallowed, taking another sip of her coffee. “I don’t
remember exactly.”

“I think you remember enough.”

She gave him a straight look. “All right. He said that the
senator was getting restless and hard to handle, wanting to go home to his
family. He said it looked like he should have sense enough to be afraid, and he
meant afraid of dying.”

“George said this to you?” he asked, frowning.

“I — overheard it.”

His face cleared. “I begin to see. And you took what you
heard to be proof that we were holding the senator against his will?”