Wait for Me (6 page)

Jonathan’s fingers dug into her arm, pinching her skin beneath her sweater. He inhaled, blowing it out between compressed teeth. “Ms. Claiborne is my woman. If I make her into any more than that you will accept her regardless.”

“You’re disrespecting our heritage by bringing that woman—” Jonathan grasped her shoulders shaking her. Fiona’s shoulders bounced back along the wall.

“I’ve warned you to never direct me…”

She gulped stiffening her chin in defiance. “We have a meeting this evening. Don’t bring your little…American—”

He backed her deeper into the room. “What’s his name, Fiona?” he charged.

Fiona’s pale skin ghosted to a veil of worry. “Who?”

He smoothed a hand down her hair, watching terror cross her face. “Aye, sweet cousin.” He spoke close to her face. “I hear he is nae Irish,” his baroque rang through the small space.

She blinked rapidly, eyes darting past his shoulders. Fiona stammered, “I—I…who told—”

“Never go up against me, cousin. Never!” he warned. “Why do you hide him? What are ye up to, cousin? You are a Blakemore. Respect this family.” Taking a step back, he crossed the threshold. “Never use a good man, especially one you’re related to.”

Chapter Three

Kenya swiveled at the waist, hearing a yelp echo behind her following her up the stone stairs. She wheeled around, crossing to the stairs, tentatively gripping the stone banister. Before placing a foot over the step, a clicking noise moved across the floor behind her.

Judge trotted out of the room at the end of the hallway. Just as she squat to the floor, a gorgeous woman glided from the same room. Green trousers and a cream silk blouse accentuated her contemporary features. If Tina Turner were Irish this would be her. Jonathan’s mother.

It had to happen eventually. “You must be Sophie Blakemore, or is it, McGhee?” she asked, extending her hand.

“Sophie’s fine. I’m so glad my son talked you into visiting.” Padding toward her, Kenya’s attention was drawn to Sophie’s limp as she walked.

“Are you okay?”

“Doona tell Jonathan you saw me without my cane he’ll have me carried around like an invalid. I twisted my ankle a few weeks back, it’s just about healed. Come sit down. I was just letting Judge into your suite. Seems the old man adores you. He shot out of the room the moment we got a whiff of your perfume, which is lovely by the way.”

“Thank you. Judge and I get along quite well.” Kenya tossed a glance over her shoulder indicating the stairs. “Jonathan’s down stairs with Fiona if you’re looking for him.”

“I’ve seen my son all my life, honey. I’m looking for the woman that made him trim his grandmother’s roses and ship them overseas.”

“They were exquisite. My entire home and office smelled of white diamonds for weeks.”

“My son has such a busy life, Ms. Claiborne,” Sophie started.

“Kenya,” she offered. Using formal names didn’t seem right, when she was sharing a room with the woman’s son.

“Kenya. This estate will eat up much of his time and energy along with what he has going in the States. Are you ready for his long hours away at times? I hate to hit you with this so soon, but I thought you should know going in.”

“You’re warning me away from him too?”

“Too? I’m trying to keep you here.” The woman tilted a knowing stare. “Who said—Brian? He spoke to you, hasn’t he?”

“Please don’t tell Jonathan. It’s why I’m here." She implored, feeling awful for asking his mother for such a ghastly favor. How could she phrase, don’t tell your son his father wants to kill him, and it not sound ghastly? “I know he has a lot on his plate and the last thing I want is to add to it. I had no way of knowing if his threat was real or just to scare me away.” She rubbed her watch peering around the wide stone hallway. Ancient yet updated. “Jonathan asked for my help on a financial matter and I figured this would be a good opportunity to see if there’s any truth to the threat.”

She followed as Sophie led her into their suite. Kenya could’ve fallen over. It was a mini-house inside. The plush velvet, butter toned sofa, sat hugged up in a bay window the size of a kitchen. Beautiful tapestry pillows were stately perched across the tufted back of the antique sofa. Out of her peripheral, she spotted a blanket and pillow folded on the floor beside the generous stone fireplace. The mantle scattered with photos of the surrounding landscape.

“Come in here, Kenya. You can tell me while you get comfortable.”

Stepping through the threshold of the bedroom, Kenya set her purse on the high ornate side table. A large mirror reflected the beautiful room and she had to stop, the man was romance walking. Yellow silk bra and panties lay over the cream coverlet on the king size bed boasting a seven foot upholstered headboard. A basket with all her toiletries sat at the foot of the bed with a large white folded towel.

“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan,” she muttered under her breath.

Sophie’s voice brought her back. “What did that bastard ask you to do?”

Kenya reached down and removed her shoes and edged a hip on the bed. Sophie eased beside her a hand on Kenya’s knee, squeezing it.

“Sophie, believe me, I care for your son…a lot. Jonathan’s wonderful, but Brian wants me to either walk away, so he can’t merge the two families or convince him to place it all under the Blakemore name. That can’t be right. How would he claim it if it were Jonathan’s? And I’m not trying to pry a marriage proposal out of your son.”

“As long as Jonathan stays single the shares stay split. Blakemore has controlling interest. The eldest son has that control, being Seamus, Jonathan’s grandfather. But Seamus is ready to retire his control over to Jonathan.”

“Not Brian?” she questioned, wasn’t that odd for it to go to Jonathan?

“He has that right. My family’s estate began on this land hundreds of years ago. Blakemore’s and McGhee’s boarded the surrounding lands and the two matriarchs of the families signed a business deal to split the profits off the surrounding farmers using the rivers and forests. Everyone thought the two families would someday have children to marry and combine all the land and become the biggest family on the west end.”

“I take it everything worked for a while?” Kenya let her attention follow the woman’s raised hand.

“See the picture over the mantle?” Kenya nodded. “Those are both families. Are you familiar with falconry, Kenya?”

“I’ve heard of the sport, never seen anyone doing it. Jonathan promised to teach me to call one in this evening or in the morning.”

What had she said that made Sophie peer at her and stand to walk around her? Kenya crossed her legs, watching the woman.

“My son promised to show you his falcons? He’s never brought a woman to my home in the States, let alone out here in Ireland, Kenya. Now he’s showing his prized bird of prey.”

Kenya found the woman’s gentle baroque hypnotizing. It was a soft caress, nothing as startling as Jonathan’s, yet certainly not as brash as Brian’s tone. Kenya tugged the skirt of her dress over her knees and crossed her ankles. She’d missed something about Jonathan’s actions? “Sophie, I wanna make something clear because I think everyone has the wrong impression of our relationship. I have a career back in the States that I love and a life and a family.”

“You have children?”

“No, I’m referring to parents, siblings, aunts, uncles…family. I’ll be honest with you. Jonathan helped me when I was sick and made certain I made it home one morning after finding me passed out in my car from a high fever. He’d told me he needed a female to go on one of his trips with the kids. I needed the volunteer hours at my job. That was a month ago. If not for Brian’s offer scaring me I wouldn’t have come. Jonathan deserves better.” Kenya caught the woman’s suspicious stare saying she didn’t believe her any further than she could toss her across the room.

“I’m to believe that you flew across the country with a man you met a month ago because he deserves better?” Sophie charged, tipping a rueful glance at Kenya. “Are you certain that’s your reasoning?”

It was as if her aunt came with her to Ireland. Kenya couldn’t believe how well this woman read her body language. She ran a hand over her flat stomach. The slight rumble of nerves began to jitter with the realization that Jonathan occupied more than a flash of hot distraction in her world.

“He asked for my help with some financial problems. And yes, I like your son. He’s a good man and I won’t lie, I enjoy his company. But any more than that is wishful thinking on everyone’s part.”

Sophie surprised her by touching her stomach. “My son is so much more than what you see, Kenya.” Kenya leaned in as the woman brushed her lips over her cheek, holding her close. “Your body craves him in more ways than one. Don’t pull away when he loves you. He has another side that he saves for those that cross him, and if you lead him on, I won’t like you after this.” Kenya picked up the serious adoration Sophie held for her son and any woman that played with that would answer to her in a dark alley. “I doubt you’ll ever see that side of my son.”

“Are you saying I can expect Jonathan to become cruel or abusive?”

“No, I’m saying don’t hurt my son. I can become cruel and abusive.”

“Sophie, your son is an unexpected force in my life right now and I have no ties on him either way.”

“Have you ever noticed a woman in love carries a strong scent that arouses the man in her life to distraction? Ye have imprinted on my son. If he begins to speak Celtic or Gaelic, you have my son by the groin.”

Kenya scratched her nape, eyeing the protective atmosphere the woman held around her. She’d seen a sliver of his cold stare, but everybody had a darker side when provoked. Brian was something different. “How can I tell him what Brian said and not find myself floating in a river face down somewhere? How do I come into your family and make accusations I can’t back up? If everyone could just stop matchmaking, Brian will back off.”

“You’re more than friends, Kenya. You’re the first woman Brian’s ever tried to blackmail that I know of. He sees you as a threat.”

“So why not just try and pay me off instead of giving me options?”

“You can’t see it, Kenya? I saw it on his face each time he came to my home in the States. Some woman made him smile…my son loves you, Kenya.”

Kenya shook her head. “We’ve only been seeing each other a month.”

“Men like Jonathan don’t work on the same time table as other men. They work off trust, a feeling, an instinct…
possession
. He sees no reason to date you when his instincts tell him you’ll be there for him and he’s physically attracted to you, dear.” 

“Sophie, Brian offered me half a million either way. I don’t want his money. I’m not looking for a husband and I’m not trying to take the castle from Fiona. I just want Jonathan safe.”

“Safe from what?” Jonathan’s deep voice rang from the doorway.

Kenya bounced off the bed to her feet. Jonathan lingered in the doorway eyeing the floor in thought, rolling his sleeves back on his dress shirt, his suit jacket over his shoulder. Sophie crossed the room and pulled her son in a hug.

“Doona run her away. I like her.” She pointed a finger in his chest. “I’ll see you two down for dinner later, I hope,” she said, winking. The door clicked shut and his dark stare held her in question. An odd fissure of anxiety moved through her being alone with him.

“Tell me in the shower,” he said, a hand slipping around her waist. She tugged his other hand bringing his attention around to face her. He stopped walking drawing her into his embrace. She needed answers. “Don’t deny me right now, Kenya. I need you.”

Where did that come from? What happened between him and Fiona that’s got him flustered.

Each slow and unhurried blink of his wicked eyes told her every move he wanted her to make. Not one sound crossed his lips, yet she felt each whisper caress her ears with the words he'd never spoken.

Jonathan traced a line between her breasts from the thudding pulse at the base of her throat to her naval. Kenya heard remove my tie behind his slow touch. Reaching up, Kenya slid her fingers through the silk knot while slipping it from his neck. Leaning down she kissed the raging pulse of his Adam’s apple.

Unbutton my shirt: Small charcoal buttons slipped through the tiny holes, the backs of her fingers absorbing the heat rising off his chest, black tank gripping a well-muscled body.

I’m gonna unzip your dress: Hands on her back eased the metal teeth to expose her skin pebbling in the cool room.

Your fingers should be on my belt at this point: Glove soft leather molded under the pads of her fingers. The metal buckle flopped out slack, the tab popping back. Licking her lips, she enjoyed his fingers stroking her spine, the length of leather bounce over the carpeted floor from her hand. Unfocused, his stare whispered along her cool skin, air dancing in through the window off the river tickled her flesh.

I’m gonna push this from your shoulders; don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. I’m just in need and my fingers are starting to tremble. Something happened I don’t wanna go into, just let me have you. His stare commanded cooperation, gave direct orders, patient, she waited for further instruction. 

Remove the tank: grasping the soft cotton, she scraped her nails over hard abs easing it up past soft reddish gold hair splayed over his hard and wide chest. Holding his arms up, she wiggled the tank over his head, breathed in his musky spicy scent into her lungs. His arms dropped to his sides. The tight-corded muscles of his biceps she kissed raising a glance up to his face behind each press of her lips. Jonathan hissed behind her tongue laving the taught little nipple on his chest. Gently Kenya teased each one between her teeth. She licked the sprinkling of freckles covering his flush skin; the salty taste blossomed over her tongue. His stare took a breath. The crook of his neck and refocused stare between their bodies said, he needed to see her body. Her heartbeat sped up under his eyes dilating with every inch of the silk slipping down her shoulders, Exposed to his hooded stare, Kenya swallowed as the material puddled around her hips. Wiggling, she worked it the rest of the way to the floor. His stare became breathless as his eyes darted over her breasts. Jonathan reached down and slipped a finger behind the lace of her garter-less stockings, tickling the thin skin of her inner thigh. The pleasure rippled through her swollen sex.