Tears of the Renegade (18 page)

But he hadn't, and now Cord had stolen her love like the renegade he was.

Gently she replaced the album and left the room, walking slowly up the stairs to her empty bed, her mind and her senses filled with the memory of the night before when Cord had swept in with the rain, wild and damp, the air about him almost crackling with the heat of his passion. She hadn't even thought of denying him, even though he'd disappeared for a week without a word of warning. She'd simply undressed, so
eager for his touch that she wouldn't have protested if he'd taken her there in the foyer.

She creamed the makeup off her face, closing her eyes slightly to combat the faint giddiness caused by the wine. How passionate he'd been the night before, and how considerate he'd been this evening. She tried to convince herself that he cared for her, but the thought kept coming back that he hadn't wasted any time getting away from her after driving her home. And the night before, he'd left after making love to her. He only wants me for sex, she silently told her reflection, and shut her eyes tightly against the words. It had to be more than that, because she wasn't sure she could keep from falling apart if it wasn't.

B
y the time another week had come and gone, Susan was convinced that she knew nothing about Cord. He was the most enigmatic man she'd ever met; just when she'd decided that he was only using her as a convenient sexual outlet, he confounded her by taking her out every evening, wooing her with wine and good food, and dancing with her into the wee hours of the morning. Dancing with him was special. He was the most graceful man she'd ever known, and he enjoyed dancing. Between them, rituals of dancing were both flirtation and foreplay. She could feel his powerful body moving against her, sending her senses tumbling head over heels, and the unabashed response of his body told her that he was reacting the same way. Held in his arms, she felt secure, protected, locked away in their private world. She could have dreamed her life away in his arms.

He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, tenderly solicitous of her, courting her in a manner so old-fashioned that it stunned her even though she deeply enjoyed every moment of it. He gave her the grace of a few days' privacy, then brought his abstinence to an end with hungry impatience; instead of kissing her gently good-night, as he had been doing, he picked her up and carried her to her bed. When he left several hours later she lay sprawled nude on the tangled
sheets, too exhausted to get up to find a nightgown or even pull the sheet over herself. She slept with a heavenly smile on her passion-swollen mouth.

The nights that followed were just as passionate, and she should have been wilting from lack of sleep, but instead she was radiant, full of energy. She sailed through the hours at work, too immersed in her own happiness to really pay attention to Preston's growing depression, knowing that when the night came she would be in Cord's arms again.

Her happiness made the blow, when it came, just that much more cruel. She was going over a productivity report from the small electronics plant they owned when Preston appeared at her office door. Susan looked up with a ready smile, but the smile died when she saw the taut expression that had made his face a gray mask. Concern snapped her to her feet, and she went across the room to him, taking his arm. “What is it?”

He stared at her for a minute, and she silently reproached herself for not having paid more attention to him this past week. She'd known that something was bothering him, but she hadn't wanted anything to dim her happiness. Her selfishness made her writhe inside.

Wordlessly, he extended the papers in his hand. Susan took them, her brow wrinkling as she stared at them.

“What is this?”

“Read it.” He moved over to a chair and lowered himself into it, his movements slow and jerky, strangely uncoordinated.

She flipped through the papers, reading slowly. Her eyes widened, and she read them over again, hoping that she hadn't understood correctly, but there was no way to misunderstand. The meaning of every word was perfectly clear. Cord had bought up an outstanding loan against the Blackstone Corporation and was calling it in. They had thirty days to pay.

Almost suffocated by the thick sense of betrayal that rose
in her throat, she dropped the papers to the top of her desk and lifted her stunned gaze to Preston. She couldn't speak, though she wet her lips and tried to force her throat to form the words. How could he have done that?

“Well, now you know where he went on that mystery trip,” Preston said bitterly, nodding toward the papers. “Dallas.”

She braced one hand flat on the desk, trying to support herself as acid nausea rose in her throat. She conquered the moment, but she couldn't conquer the pain that threatened to bend her double. Why had he done it? Didn't he realize that this hurt her as much as it did Preston? This wasn't just Preston he was striking at; he was threatening the entire corporation, her livelihood as well as the livelihoods of thousands of workers who depended on their jobs to put food on the table. He had to know, so the only supposition she could reach was that he simply didn't care. After the week she had spent with him, the passion she'd shared with him, the brutal realization that it all meant nothing to him was like a slap in the face, and she reeled from the impact of it.

“I thought we were protected against this sort of thing.” Lifelessly, Preston stared at the floor. “But he found a way, and he's bought up the loan. He's called it in. God knows where he got the money to buy it up, or even how he knew where to go—” He broke off suddenly, his blue eyes narrowing as he stared at Susan with bitter accusation.

For a moment she didn't read the expression on his face; then her eyes flared with understanding. She went even whiter than she had been. How could he so readily believe that she would betray them to Cord, after all she had done to try to convince Cord not to seek vengeance? But why not? Why should Preston trust her? Cord didn't trust her, despite the passionate devotion she revealed every time she gave herself to him.

“How can you believe that?” she choked. “I haven't told him anything.”

“Then how did he know?”

“I don't know!” she shouted, then stopped, pressing her hands against her mouth, aghast at her loss of control. “I'm sorry. I didn't tell him; I swear I didn't.”

His blue eyes were suddenly sick, and he drew a deep, shaking breath. “My God, he's got us fighting each other,” he said miserably, getting to his feet and coming around to her. He took her in his arms and held her tightly to him, rocking back and forth in a comforting motion. “I know you didn't tell him; you don't have a deceptive bone in your body. I'm sorry for being so stupid. I'm rattled. Susan, he's trying to bankrupt us.”

The evidence lay on her desk, so she couldn't even try to deny it. She pressed her face into Preston's shoulder, vaguely aware that she was shaking. The awful thing was that, even with her knowing that Cord was capable of being so ruthless and devious, the aching, burning love she felt for him didn't diminish at all. She had known the chance she was taking in mating with that human tiger.

How long they clung together like frightened children trying to comfort each other, she didn't know. But gradually she calmed, and their embrace loosened.

There were things to do, strategies to plan. “How badly will we be weakened?” she asked in a voice that was flatly calm.

Preston's arms dropped away completely, and he turned to drag a chair around so he could sit beside her at her desk. “Dangerously. He couldn't have timed it better. At the moment, our cash flow is restricted because we've invested so heavily in projects that won't begin paying for at least another year, possibly two years. You handled the paperwork on the laser project in Palo Alto, so you know how much we've sunk in that one project alone.”

She did. “Then what about our personal assets? If we liquidate, we can raise enough money to cover the loan—”

He was shaking his head to stop her, and he smiled wryly at her. “How do you think I raised the money to repay him for the money we used?”

She sat back, stunned. How neatly Cord had boxed them into a corner! He must have been planning this all along. First he had threatened to bring charges against Preston for stealing, then he had sat back and done nothing, giving Preston time to replace the amount taken, knowing that Preston would have to stretch himself thin to cover that much at one time. He had maneuvered them like pieces on a chessboard.

Still, she cast around for a solution. “Imogene and I can cover it. We have stocks we can sell, and property in prime locations—”

“Susan, stop it,” he said gently. “Mother and I were both involved in using Cord's money, and we both had to sacrifice to replace it. She's stretched as thinly as I am, and you can't handle this all on your own. You wouldn't have anything left if you did.”

Susan shrugged. The thought of being penniless didn't bother her. “If we can hold on for a year, two years at the most, then the corporation would be safe. That's what matters.”

“Do you really think I'd let you sell off everything Vance gave you? From the moment he married you, he worked to make certain you'd always be comfortable, no matter what happened. He cherished you, and I won't let you undo all of the things he did for you.”

“If we can stay out of bankruptcy, everything can be replaced.”

“Covering this loan won't guarantee that. What if he buys up another one? He's obviously got money behind him, enough money to destroy us if he wants to keep pushing. If
he buys up another loan, we end up in the bankruptcy courts, even if you do sell everything you own to cover this one.”

Preston's logic was irrefutable, and she went cold to the bone. “Then there's nothing we can do?”

“I don't know. We're going to have to consider everything. The damnable part of it is, he has a stake in this corporation himself, and that isn't stopping him. He'll take that loss in order to get back at me. I can't believe he went this far. I know he hates me, but this is…this is crazy!”

It was unnerving to think of someone so determined, so ruthless, that he would go against his own best interests in his quest for revenge. He was tightening the screws, pushing, enjoying tormenting Preston. He'd said that he wanted to make the other man squirm. He might have reason enough for the way he felt; she could only guess at the hellholes he'd been in since he'd been turned away by his family, though she had seen the marks they had left on his body. But no matter what the past had been, it was time the senseless hurting was ended. It had gone on long enough, tearing families apart, creating bitter enemies of the same blood. She wanted to take Cord by the neck and shake him until he'd regained his senses, and for a moment she could almost smile at the image of herself shaking someone who was almost a foot taller than she was, and who outweighed her by about a hundred pounds.

She was exhausted when she went home that day. They had spent the hours poring over financial statements, marshalling their forces to meet this challenge. Preston was a superb corporate tactician, but she'd never before realized the extent of his subtlety and expertise. He knew exactly how much they could sacrifice without dealing themselves a mortal blow, and he'd set the wheels in motion to liquidate the assets he thought the corporation could spare.

She was late getting home, but Emily was waiting for her
with a hot meal, which the older woman made certain she consumed. Somehow, Emily always knew when Susan was tired or depressed, and she would dispense an extra measure of coddling, but not all her tender concern could erase the tension from Susan's face that night. Thinking that all of her nights out with Cord might be tiring Susan out, Emily asked, “Are you going out with Cord again tonight?”

Susan started at hearing the name that had been reverberating in her thoughts. “Oh…I don't know. He said he might be over later tonight. He had to drive to New Orleans to take care of some business.” She felt sick at the thought. What sort of business? Finding another nail to drive into the coffin of Blackstone Corporation?

“Well, I think you need to get more sleep then you've had this past week,” Emily scolded. “You look like a dishrag. Send him home early if he does come over.”

Somehow, Susan managed a smile for the woman, grateful for her concern. “Yes, I will.” She loved him, but right now she couldn't be with him. She had the feeling that if she looked over her shoulder, she'd be able to see the handle of the knife that was sticking in her back.

Perhaps he wouldn't come. She hoped he wouldn't. She was too tired, too hurt, too raw from the knowledge of his betrayal. But why kid herself? He wouldn't see it as a betrayal, because he'd never promised her anything. All he had given her was the coin of physical passion, not a hint of commitment beyond the moment.

She hoped he wouldn't come, yet she wasn't surprised later that night to hear the rumble of the red Blazer that he used for his casual driving. She'd begun to think that she was safe for the night; it was after nine o'clock, and she'd been thinking about taking her bath and going to bed. But now he was here, and she stood in the den, her heart beginning to
pound in apprehension. She felt sick; her hands were cold and clammy, and she pressed them against her skirt. How could she face him? Why couldn't he have waited until tomorrow, when she might be calmer?

The doorbell rang, but still she stood rigidly in the middle of the floor, unable to force her legs to move. Cold dread rippled down her spine. Seconds ticked past, and the doorbell began an insistent peal as he jammed his finger onto it and held it there. It wasn't until he began to pound on the door with enough force to rattle it on its hinges that she managed to move, her legs shaking. She crept into the foyer and released the bolt on the door.

The door crashed open under the impact of his fist, narrowly missing knocking her down. Cord loomed over her, his face dark and savage. He seized her by the arms, his fingers biting into her soft flesh. “Are you all right?” he bit out. “The lights were on, but when you didn't answer the door I thought something must be wrong. I was going to go around and break out the glass in the sliding doors—” He never finished the sentence, instead pulling her to him with one iron arm locked around her waist, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face up to him. He bent his head and his mouth closed over hers, hard, hungrily, and for a moment she forgot everything. She was swamped by the exciting maleness of his scent, the coffee taste of his mouth. She clung to him, her fingers digging into the heavy muscles of his back as she rose on tiptoe to fit herself to him.

His desire rose swiftly, launched from the perfect condition of his superb body. Before she could think, he had lifted her off her feet and started up the stairs, after kicking the door shut. Feeling the last vestiges of control slipping away from her, Susan freed her mouth from his and gasped, “Wait! I don't—”