See How She Dies (43 page)

His mouth curved into a self-deprecating smile. “What I'm afraid of. Isn't it obvious?” His gaze held hers in a stare that stripped her soul bare. With a whistle, he turned the buckskin again and leaned forward in the saddle. The horse took off, galloping rapidly across the dry grass, sending up a cloud of red dust, leaving her alone.

Adria sagged against the exterior wall of the stables. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and felt the rough-cut cedar walls press into her shoulders. Her fists curled in frustration and slivers jabbed at her bare knuckles. “Don't be afraid, Zach,” she said, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “Please, don't be afraid.” The man was so damned maddening and yet…Oh, God, and yet…she thought she was falling in love with him.

You can't!

But I can't stop myself.

He was in love with Kat!

That was a long time ago.

He's your brother!

I don't know that. Not for sure.

But you can't afford to gamble! Not now! Not when everything you've worked for is at stake!

Like hell!

“He's right,” she said, furious with herself. “You
are
a fool.” Pushing herself upright, she headed toward the house. She was intent on forgetting him, on finding a way to escape, on putting as much distance between his body and hers as she could. She could take his Jeep or a truck or call someone to come get her…

Or she could go after him.

In the distance a coyote howled and the sun slid behind a cloud. Her footsteps hesitated for just a second before she realized that she couldn't let it lie. Rolling over and playing dead wasn't in her nature and she'd come too far and suffered through too many emotional struggles to just curl up and die and let the whole thing go.

Turning back toward the stables, she decided to tempt fate. She flung the door open. Her legs moved of their own accord, her boots ringing as she ran along the smooth floor to the tack room. She found a bridle and hurried back to the row of stalls. A black mare poked her nose over the door and Adria didn't miss a beat. She slipped the bridle over the mare's head, then, running, ignored her lingering pain and led the trotting horse outside. Zach was nearly out of sight, only a speck on the horizon, but Adria wasn't going to let him get away. She climbed on the mare's bare back, leaned forward, and clucked her tongue. “Let's go!” She dug her heels into the black's flanks.

With a surge of power, the horse moved beneath her, muscles bunching and stretching, the cold, hard ground flashing beneath steel-shod hooves. Adria's back and arms ached but she held on. The wind screamed through her hair and brought tears to her eyes as the eager little mare ate up the distance, racing over the vast acres of grassland where the dry pastures rolled upward into foothills green with old-growth timber. In the distance craggy, snow-covered mountains cut jagged ridges against the darkening sky.

She urged the horse faster and faster, afraid that if she slowed down for even a second she would see the folly in this dangerous chase, yank back on the reins, and force herself to return to the ranch—to safety—away from the one man who could save her or destroy her.

Zach's horse galloped through the low-growing timber and Adria followed. “Come on, come on,” Adria cried, the breath being torn from her lungs, fear of facing her destiny shadowing her mind. But still she plunged on, chasing a man and her dream, moving closer.

Finally he drew back on the reins and his horse slowed at the banks of a wide river that sliced through the hills and fell in a wild, silver torrent down the face of a cliff. Then, as if suddenly sensing that she was chasing him, he twisted in the saddle.

Her heart nearly stopped as she stared at his profile, all tough angles and planes, like the sheer mountains that rose behind him, wild as the river that slashed furiously through the canyon and cut a raging swath through the forest. His jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed in silent rebuke, but she didn't pay any attention. Instead, she kicked her horse faster. There was no trace of amusement in his face.

Zach's eyes followed her every move as she pulled back on the reins. When she was close enough to hear, he said, “You should go back.”

“Back to Montana?”

“Back to the house.”

“Not yet.” She slid to the ground and Zach followed suit. Eyebrows drawn downward, his mouth pulled into a furious frown, he strode up to her, looking as if he'd like to strangle her…or worse, that he wanted to kiss her and never stop.

“For Christ's sake—”

“No. For mine. For yours,” she said, breathing hard. She stared up at him stubbornly, squaring her shoulders and meeting his furious gaze with her own.

“You never listen, do you?”

“Not when it's something I don't want to hear.” She felt the spray of the waterfall, cool against her neck, and heard the roar of the water tumbling fifty feet to the rocky bottom of the canyon. She stood toe-to-toe with him, refusing to back down, silently challenging him with her eyes.

“You have no idea what you're asking,” he said hoarsely.

“Tell me.”

He stared at her long and hard, his eyes narrowing in the lowering sunlight, his breath fogging in the cool mountain air. “You never give up,” he said and his voice sounded tortured, as if he was battling with himself and losing the war. Reluctantly he pushed an errant black curl from her face.

“No reason to.”

“There are lots of reasons, Adria.”

“None that I want to hear.” She held her head high, angling her chin, daring him to argue, feeling the breeze tangle in her hair.

His gaze fastened to hers and held, causing her heart to trip in anticipation. Raw, unbridled passion glowed dark in his eyes as he looked down at her. Adria's chest was suddenly tight, as if bound by steel cords, and she wondered fleetingly if he was right, if chasing him into the forest was so clever after all. She wanted him, yes, probably loved him, but being with him was treacherous and deadly, for she never seemed to get enough.

As if reading her thoughts, he struck, quickly wrapping his strong fingers around the back of her neck and pulling her roughly to him, kissing her until she couldn't catch her breath. His free arm circled her waist, dragging her willing body closer still, so that she could feel the thunderous beat of his heart, the thick evidence of his desire straining at his fly. He smelled of leather and sweat and tasted of coffee laced with liquor. A slow-burning heat from deep inside her spread throughout her body.

His hands splayed across her back, possessively, angrily crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.

Winding her arms around his neck, she gave herself to him, refusing to listen to any lingering doubts in her mind. She opened her mouth to him as she would willingly open her body.

She clung to him as he dragged her to the ground, pulling her with him, dropping to the bed of dry grass and leaves scattered over the forest floor. He spread kisses along her neck and over her eyes and twisted her hair in his fists. “You're sure?” he asked, his voice breathless and dry as the wind racing through the trees.

“I want this, Zach,” she said, staring deep into his eyes. “I want you.”

He hesitated but she pressed her lips to his and all his defenses tumbled down. She knew why he was reticent—he still believed they were half-brother and-sister, but she was certain there was a mistake. Surely they couldn't be related. She wouldn't believe it; she wouldn't fall in love with her own half-brother. Most people thought he'd been fathered by Anthony Polidori and he looked so much more like the Italian than Witt. This was right! So right! He nuzzled her neck and she lolled her head back, offering him more.

His fingers found the buttons to her blouse and the clasp of her bra and soon she was stripped to the waist, her breasts bare, her dark nipples puckering in the cool air, her body heated by the inner fire that swept through her blood.

His hands were rough but magical as he reached around her and traced the valley of her spine. Pleasure rippled through her body and she held onto his shoulders as if for life.

Love me, Zachary
, she silently cried.

His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, stripping her of the unwanted denim and leaving her in a scant pair of panties. She moaned as he took her breast between his lips and her own hands moved to the front of his shirt, tearing at the buttons, feeling the springy, dark hair of his chest as her fingers grazed the strident muscles of his shoulders, the flat buttons of his nipples.

He moaned loudly—a primeval sound that made her quiver.

“Adria,” he whispered hoarsely as he gazed down at her.

She held a finger to his lips. “Don't,” she whispered and a coil of warmth whirled in her midsection when he drew her finger between his teeth and sucked. Wet. Hungry. Hot.

Heat coiled at her center, pulsing and liquid, as he continued to stare at her.

Her throat was tight and the moist darkness between her legs began to throb with desire. She wanted him, all of him, regardless of the consequences. Gaze fastened to hers, he slipped his hands lower, along the rift of her buttocks until she was squirming, her body silently pleading for more.

“You're sure?” he asked and his pupils had nearly obscured the gray of his eyes. Above him, clouds scudded across the sky.

“Yes!”

“This could be wrong.” Doubts shadowed his eyes and his fingers dug deeper into her flesh.

“Never,” she whispered, guiding his head back to hers until his breath fanned her face. “Love me, Zach,” she whispered, casting caution to the wind and closing her ears to the demons that screamed in her mind. “Love me and forget about everything else.”

His throat worked and then the wind seemed to shift. Kissing her, he ran his fingers along her body, and beneath the silk of her panties. Lowering his head, he nibbled at her skin and lowered himself. His tongue slid around the circle of her navel and she bucked upward, wanting more, wanting him—all of him.

He slid lower still and she thought she would die when he stripped her of her panties and breathed hot and damp against the curls at the apex of her legs. Squirming, writhing, she felt him touch her, slowly at first and then more quickly, causing her to melt inside.

“Zachary,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Not yet,” he whispered and guided one of her hands to his fly. With a hiss, it lowered, and she slowly pushed his jeans over his slim hips. With anxious fingers she caressed his buttocks, and felt the muscles of his legs flex at her touch. She ran her fingers up the flatness of his abdomen and felt him suck in his breath.

Heat flowed from his body to hers.

“You're sure about this,” he said again when they were naked and breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat, nerves strung tight in anticipation.

In answer she kissed him and he moved atop her, his strong hands holding her arms over her head, his eyes burning with a pulsing desire that seared into her soul.

He kissed her again and then roughly, as if he were fighting and losing an inner struggle, he prodded her legs apart. She lifted her hips off the ground as he drove into her and she felt his manhood, heavy and thick, break through the barriers of their lives and delve deep into the core of her soul.

She closed her eyes, but he kissed her cheek. “Watch me,” he said hoarsely. “We can't forget that this is happening. We can't ever forget.” His words were like the prophecy of doom, but she stared up at him and moved with his sweet, hungry rhythm. There was no pause, no minute to catch her breath. He pushed into her harder and harder, faster and faster, until the colors behind her eyes began to blend and whirl.

She was moist and warm, like thick, hot honey, and she felt him gather steam just as something erupted within her.

“Adria, oh, sweet, sweet Adria!” His voice, a raspy whisper, bounced off the walls of the canyons and the chambers of her heart. Lights exploded behind her eyes and her body convulsed around him, holding him tight within her as if she was afraid to lose the precious link they'd found, the ecstasy of loving each other. Her throat worked.

Love me,
she silently cried, wrapping her arms around him as he fell against her, his sweating body melding perfectly to hers.
Love me, Zachary Danvers, and don't ever stop.

Tears touched the back of her eyes—from joy or relief, she didn't know—but she refused to give in to the persistent drops and wouldn't think about tomorrow.

It would come soon enough.

“Tell me about my mother.” Adria, shivering as the afterglow faded, stared up at the swaying, long-needled branches of the pines to the blue sky beyond. A few filmy clouds moved slowly through the heavens but didn't spoil the day.

Beside her, Zach tensed. “I didn't know your mother.” He reached for his faded Levi's and slid into them. “She lived in Montana with you.”

“My other mother,” she clarified, refusing to let him vex her, but she wasn't going to let him put her off as he had in the past. They were lovers now—they could share everything. “Katherine.” The ground was cold and goose bumps rose on her flesh as she found her jeans and sweater.

After making hot, furious love to her, Zachary had held her against his naked body. She'd seen the scar on his shoulder, been reminded of the night that London had disappeared and had convinced herself that she couldn't be related to him. Either he was Polidori's son or she wasn't London Danvers. Now, as her mind cleared, she wasn't so certain.

He seemed more remote than ever, as if the shock of what they'd done had been a slap of reality—cold water in his face.

“Katherine wasn't your mother,” he said with conviction.

“You don't know that.”

That much was true, Zach thought as he yanked on his boots. He had to get away, far away. Being with her was like being trapped in a seductive spider's web, sticky and warm and exciting but infinitely dangerous. Whether she'd decided to make love to him because she suddenly didn't believe they could be related, or because she thought he would let down his defenses and give her more information about the family, or because she wanted to blackmail him later, or, God forbid, because her motives were pure and she was falling for him, he knew it just couldn't happen. He should have been stronger. Ever since Kat, he'd been in control and had never let a woman seduce him. He'd always been the predator. His will where sensual women were concerned had been strong. Until now. With Adria. He ground his teeth together in disgust and stood, swiping at the dust covering his jeans.

He'd been unable to resist her—the defiance in her blue eyes, the challenging tilt of her chin, her soft, sensual lips, and the provocative invitation that touched him in a deep, roughly animal place, where his body took over and his mind shut down. He'd wanted sex. With her. Lusty, hot, get-your-rocks-off sex, and he'd ended up with more. Too much. An emotional whirlpool that threatened to drag him under.

Just like Kat!

He slammed his eyes shut and told himself it was just a matter of time. If he could maintain some distance from that body of hers, he could stay in control. At least until he had all this figured out.

Like hell, Danvers. How're you going to stay away from her? Now that you've had a taste, a teasing nibble of her, how are you going to fight the craving that even this minute is tearing you up inside?

The muscles in his back drew so tight they hurt. Angrily, he threw on his jacket. “We've got to get back. It's cold.”

He stiffened as her fingers touched his shoulder. “You don't have to feel guilty,” she said over the roar of the river as it dived from the cliffs to the gully far below.

“I don't.”

“Then why—”

“Look, Adria, we can't do this. Not anymore. Not until we find out for sure.” He placed firm hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length. “It just can't happen.”

“So you're starting to believe me.”

“For Christ's sake, do you know what we're talking about here?” he said, nearly screaming. “Incest!” The word hung between them, seeming to haunt the forest, standing still in the chill afternoon light.

“It's not—”

“How do you know? If you're so damned sure that you're London, then how do you know?”

He watched her swallow with difficulty. “Because,” she said, tossing her hair away from her face, “I believe that you're not Witt's son.”

“Christ!” His face turned ashen. “Is that your rationalization?” He grabbed her arms so hard that she felt his fingers digging deep into her flesh through her jacket. “Now listen to me,
sister,
I'm
not
Polidori's son.”

“How do you know?” she threw back at him, tossing the very words in his face that he'd spit at her.

“Don't you think that when Eunice and Witt split up, when she was stripped bare of everything she claimed she wanted, don't you think she would have turned around and laughed in his face, told him that his second son had been fathered by his enemy, insisted that I stay with her?”

“Not if she wanted her reputation to stay intact. Her reputation, as I understand it, was as important to her as you children, so she would never say anything to tarnish it.”

“As we children? What a laugh. We were never important to her.”

“I think—”

“You don't know. As for her reputation, it was already black as tar.”

He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

“I don't believe she intended to hurt you.”

Eunice's words, uttered at his bed in the hospital, whispered through his head.
I hate to admit it, Lord knows a mother shouldn't, but you've always been my favorite. Of all my children, you were the one closest to my heart.
As if he was different. As if he
wasn't
Witt's son. Oh, God, no! All the spit dried in his mouth and he stared at Adria as if he were looking into the window of his future. “You couldn't have done this”—he motioned to the bed of pine needles under the tree—“on the outside chance that I wasn't a Danvers.”

“I did it for the same reasons you did, Zach. Because I wanted to. Because I couldn't stop myself. Because from the first time I saw you, I knew it would happen. Because…because, damn it, I think I love you.”

She lifted up on her toes then and kissed him hard on the lips. He told himself to back off, that they were playing with fire, that no matter what happened, there could be no good ending to this, they would both be burned and yet he couldn't stop himself. His arms fastened around her slim waist and he wouldn't let go. He kissed her and held her and stripped her of her clothes, looking in fascination at the beauty of her breasts, white, with a fine webbing of blue veins hidden deep beneath the firm flesh, her nipples perfectly round and hard as he touched them and kissed them and buried his face between the two warm mounds.

He kissed the skin of her abdomen, drawing lazy circles around her navel before he slid lower and she writhed in pleasured torment beneath him. She tasted of woman and earth and all things primeval.

While the wind teased her hair, her fingers and hands worked their own sweet magic on him, shedding him of his clothes, tracing intimate circles along his spine and chest, dipping low beneath his jeans to push the tight denim over his butt.

Her eyes shone as she kissed him and tasted his hard-button nipples and skimmed her tongue down his breastbone and along the dark hairs that formed a line beneath his navel.

He fought the urge to close his eyes and stared at her, this woman who was forbidden, this woman whom he believed was only out for herself, this woman who could find the most hidden corners of his heart and expose them.

He shuddered as he took her with the same hot fervor that had consumed him the first time, driving into her with a force that was sure to chase the demons from his mind, thrusting hard and fast, hearing the catch of her breath, feeling her slick, velvet warmth envelop him, losing all thought, all reason, all control as the world seemed to burst and he fell against her, breathing hard, unable to think with any sort of reason. He was lost in the magic of her and he wondered if he'd ever break free. Would he ever want to? Kissing the sweat-soaked curls at the nape of her neck, he wished the world would go away and leave them alone and that, God in heaven, that they could be lovers forever. Without fear. Without those horrid thoughts that nagged at his mind and tested his will.

God, this was dangerous. Never had he lost himself so completely, never had he let loose of that tether that held him in touch with what was real, never had he given so much of himself with total, uninhibited abandon.

Never had he made love to a woman who claimed to be London Danvers. His fists clenched and he drew dust and sand and pine needles into his palms.

She held him close and he listened to her heart pounding so wildly he wondered how she could breathe with his weight crushed against her. When he finally had some sense of control again, he lifted himself up on one elbow and stared down at her.

Her black hair swept the tops of her breasts, and he shoved the curling strands aside. “You're too beautiful,” he said, believing her beauty was a curse. So much like Kat, yet so different.

“Why?” She gave him a curious smile that he'd never forget. Sunlight dappled her face and she had to squint and the tree branches shifted in the wind, causing slow-moving shadows to dance over her eyes and cheekbones.

“It's…well, dangerous, for lack of a better word.”

“To whom?”

“Every male who comes in contact with you and to you yourself.”

“You didn't make love to me because of my looks,” she said, rolling to her side and stretching lazily. He watched as the bones of her ribs showed beneath her breasts and her abdomen hollowed as she raised her arms over her head.

“Didn't hurt,” he drawled, watching the play of shadow and light upon her skin.

“No, but that wasn't the attraction and you know it.” She smiled up at him and in a glimmer of an instant she reminded him of Kat. “You couldn't resist because I was a challenge, someone you shouldn't have. Someone you didn't want.” She stared so intently at him, he looked away. God, she was beautiful and looked so damned much like a woman he needed to forget.

“Wait a minute,” she said, and pushed herself to one elbow. “This isn't some oedipal thing, is it? You're not…we're not here because I remind you of her, are we?” All playfulness left her features.

“Of course that's not why we're here.”

“But you and Kat…Oh, God…Zach…”

He faced her again. “I'd be a liar if I said you don't look like her, or that I don't see some of her in you. Yeah, yeah, I know that
would
make you London Danvers and I'm not ready to buy that yet, but let's face it, you wouldn't be here if you didn't resemble Kat.”

She reacted as if she'd been stung. Recoiled. Her face a mask of disbelief. “And so this…”—she motioned to the stirred ground where they'd made love—“…was all about her, about being with her, about screwing your stepmother.”

“No.”

“Of course it was,” she said, scooting away and reaching for her clothes. “You've told me I look like her, that you had an affair with her, and so you just wanted to see if I could measure up.”

“You really believe that?” he demanded, shock giving way to anger.

“It only makes sense.”

“That's garbage, darlin', and you know it!” He rolled over and grabbed her arm, forcing her to drop her top. His fingers coiled possessively over her wrist and he shoved his face to within inches of hers. Their noses nearly touched and he witnessed the shades of blue shift in her eyes. “From the get-go, you practically threw yourself at me,” he pointed out. “You chased me down.” With his free hand he motioned to the horses trying to graze on the grass that grew in patches between the trees. “In fact, you nearly ran me off the edge of the damned cliff.”

“But—”

“So enough of this Kat stuff, okay? Sure, you remind me of her and that's more of a problem than you know. I'd rather forget her forever, but I'm not going to lie to you just to make you feel good. Yes, you look like her. Near enough to be her damned twin. But the resemblance is only on the outside. Believe me, you are nothing—no-damned-thing—like her! Got it?”

She didn't answer and he shook her wrist.

“Got it, Adria?”

“I guess.” But she didn't sound convinced.

“You
know
. What happened here—between us—isn't about Kat. Never was. Never will be.”

“All right, all right,” she said, and pulled her arm from his grasp. “You've made your point, Danvers.”

“But you don't believe me.”

“I don't know what I believe anymore,” she admitted. “I don't even know what I want to believe. You and me…what's happening?”

“I know.” He glanced up at the heavens. How in the world had he let it go this far? And now that it had, could he ever break it off? When it came to this woman, he couldn't think straight and he had the unsettling feeling that he would never get enough of her. Maybe she was more like Kat than he'd admitted. Christ, what a mess. When he glanced back at her, she was smiling, as if finding the vexation that had to be evident on his features amusing.