Authors: Patricia Coughlin
Borrowed Bride (4 page)
The sunlight glinted off the knife in his hand, and Gaby screamed.
“For God's sake,” he said, grasping her by the shoulder as she tried to back away. “What's wrong with you?”
Her gaze slid from the six-inch blade to his grim expression. It was a toss-up as to which was more menacing.
“Me?” she managed to say. “What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Why are you doing this, Connor? Why do you want to hurt me?”
He looked stunned, as if she had taken the knife and turned it on him, planting it deep in his belly. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her as blankly as if he was looking at a total stranger. It was not, Gaby decided, a reassuring moment.
“Hurt you?” he asked. “Why on earth would you think I want to hurt you?”
“Damn it, Connor, you're holding a knife on me. What should I think?”
He glanced at the knife as if he'd forgotten he had it and quickly dropped his arm to his side. “How could you think... hell, Gaby, hurting you is the last thing I want to do. You have to believe me. I never want to hurt you again.” He lifted his hand as if to touch her face. “I only want to take care of you.”
Gabrielle flinched and his hand froze in midair. Take care of her? Her mind reeled at the absurdity of it. She'd always said he was crazy, but she'd meant it in the reckless, daredevil sense of a man who had never really grown up. Maybe she'd been more on target than even she had known. Maybe he was truly insane.
“The same way you took care of Joel?” she whispered.
Instantly his gray eyes became shuttered, his expression hard. Gabrielle held her breath, her heart thundering in her chest, as he took a step closer and grabbed the hem of her dress in the front. He pulled the sheer fabric taut.
“What are you-?”
“Quiet,” he ordered, hunching down.
She watched in horror as with one efficient slash of the knife he slit her skirt from the top of her thighs to the hem.
“Turn around.”
Gabrielle did as he said, not sure if she was trembling more from her anger at being manhandled or relief that he evidently didn't have even more sinister plans for the knife. The thoughts that had flashed through her mind when he suddenly turned with it in his hand still made her feel queasy. And a little silly. As crazy as he was acting, this was Connor after all. A man she had known for years. Her son's godfather. A friend. Sort of. She tossed her head defiantly. All right. So maybe she had overreacted a bit. It was damn hard to know how to react to any of this.
Connor quickly slit the back of her dress in the same way he had butchered the front.
As she whirled back to face him, he flipped the knife shut with a quick, unmistakably practiced motion and dropped it into the pouch.
“My beautiful dress,” she cried, glancing at the tatters fluttering around her legs in the soft breeze. “It's ruined.”
“Instead of whining, you ought to be thanking me. You'll be a lot more comfortable riding behind me than you were up front.” He shot her a taunting grin. “Or are you bitching because you'd really rather be back in my arms again? Is that it, Gaby?”
“Not in this lifetime,” she snapped.
“Good. Because I was getting real tired of having that damn veil blowing in my face.” He lifted his gaze to the top of her head. “In fact...”
Before she could stop him, he had yanked the veil off and tossed it into a ravine by the side of the road. He stepped back to look at her. “Much better,” he declared. “Now you have another reason to thank me.”
“For throwing away a handmade, imported lace headpiece that cost a small fortune?”
“No. For making you look more like yourself and less like Adam Ressler's bride.”
Chapter 3
T
he long ride provided Gabrielle with plenty of time to brood about how much she hated Connor DeWolfe and how she was going to make him pay for what he was doing to her. It was easier to think clearly now that they weren't hurtling through traffic, with her in fear for her life every second. Also, as much as it galled her to admit that Connor was right about anything, she did feel safer and marginally more comfortable riding behind him than she had sprawled across the front of his seat.
he long ride provided Gabrielle with plenty of time to brood about how much she hated Connor DeWolfe and how she was going to make him pay for what he was doing to her. It was easier to think clearly now that they weren't hurtling through traffic, with her in fear for her life every second. Also, as much as it galled her to admit that Connor was right about anything, she did feel safer and marginally more comfortable riding behind him than she had sprawled across the front of his seat.
Apart from the bumps in the narrow road, which seemed to wind endlessly up the side of a small mountain, the worst part of the ride was having to sit with her chest pressed against his back and her arms wrapped around his waist. It wasn't a matter of choice, since there was simply no other way to hold on. At least his leather jacket made for a reasonably sturdy barrier between her chest and his broad back. True, it wasn't the solid granite wall she would have preferred between them, but it was far preferable to the situation in front.
He'd unzipped his jacket before they started out, letting it fly open in the breeze so that her palms were separated from his midsection by only the wash-softened cotton T-shirt he wore underneath. Each time he leaned into a curve or shifted his weight, she was aware of his hard muscles clenching and rippling beneath her fingertips. She swore she could even feel him breathing and several times she found her own breath unconsciously coming in unison with his. When that happened she purposely held her breath for as long as she could and then took great pains to make sure she exhaled when he inhaled and vice versa.
She didn't care if it was childish. She hated Connor DeWolfe with every fiber of her being.
He was also right about one other thing, however. She had always hated him, or at least disliked and distrusted him immensely. All that, Gabrielle thought grimly, in spite of the fact that he'd been her late husband's best friend and that he, Adam and Joel had been business partners in one of the most successful restaurants in the state. She'd married Joel right after college, for better or worse, and ever since then, as far as she was concerned, Connor was the worst.
From the start she'd been convinced he brought out the worst in Joel, as well. When he was around Connor, it had been as if the sweet, dependable man she loved was suddenly plummeted back to adolescence, with no scheme too outrageous to undertake, no feat too dangerous to attempt if Connor put forth a challenge. Oh, she'd tried to hide her feelings of disapproval for Joel's sake, but inside she had always been afraid that sooner or later Connor would get Joel into real trouble, that he would wind up fired or arrested or bankrupt.
Gaby closed her eyes against the familiar threat of tears. If only it had all ended that innocuously.
She stiffened behind him, resenting Connor even more for bringing back these particular tears, and on this of all days. Today was supposed to have been a new beginning, for her and for Toby, not the resurrection of the worst heartache of her life. The only bright spot in the whole ordeal was the knowledge that Connor was suffering, as well. She'd seen the subtle signs that he, too, still endured very raw emotions where Joel was concerned. Good, she thought with an icy stab of satisfaction, he deserved to suffer.
Connor and Joel had been friends long before she'd met Joel in college. They had gone to the same elementary school and high school, playing football together and double-dating on weekends. She had heard all the stories of their wild exploits dozens of times. Stories about Joel, the studious, dependable doctor's son, and Connor, the kid from the wrong side of everything with the massive chip on his shoulder. In college Joel had persuaded Connor to join the same fraternity as him, and it was there they met Adam. The three became close friends, but even within that friendship there was always a special bond between Joel and Connor.
After she and Joel married, Gaby had done her best to tolerate Connor, and in turn, Joel had been patient with her lessthan-enthusiastic feelings for the man he thought of as a brother. She had even harbored a secret hope that Connor was an adolescent habit Joel would eventually outgrow. That didn't happen. He'd been a frequent visitor at their home, and occasionally they all vacationed together. Vacation. Ha, Gaby thought, shuddering at the memory of some of the most frustrating, tension-filled weeks of her life. Eventually the three friends, Joel, Connor and Adam, became business partners, as well, pooling their savings to buy a struggling restaurant on the waterfront in Providence, renaming it the Black Wolf. Tavernâthe name taken from Connor's nicknameâand surprising everyone by turning it into a thriving operation.
It was generally agreed that Adam deserved most of the credit for the success of the Black Wolf. He managed the restaurant full-time, while Joel had continued with the accounting firm where he'd been a fast-rising star and handled the restaurant's books on the side. And Connor...well, Connor just went along for the ride as usual. Technically he was a cop, a highly respected explosives expert assigned to the state police SWAT team, but even that hadn't been high risk enough to satisfy the man's insatiable craving for danger, Gaby recalled contemptuously. Motorcycles, mountain climbing, flying lessons, he incessantly sought out ways to risk his neck, and too often for her peace of mindâand Joel's, as well.
Joel and Connor. Connor and Joel. They were together as kids, together in business and they were together the day of the explosion inside the Black Wolf. Except that day Connor was the only one who made it out alive.
Gaby pushed the thought away. During the past two years she'd relived that nightmare more times than she could count. Even on days when she was feeling her most resilient and in control, as if she might actually succeed at picking up the pieces and going on with her life, the memory of that awful day could bring her to her knees emotionally. And at the moment she was far from feeling either resilient or in control.
Desperate for a distraction from her own thoughts, she turned her attention to the landscape around her. She'd completely forgotten her resolve to pay attention to details in case a chance to escape should present itself. Of course that possibility was appearing more remote with each passing mile. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but woods all around them. But at least they were no longer riding uphill, she thought, grateful for the chance to relax her grip for a while.
They rounded a bend, and suddenly the woods on her left ended, revealing a clear lake dappled with late-afternoon shadows. Gaby felt a flicker of familiarity, almost a sense of déjà vu, before recognition hit her full force. She didn't just feel as if she'd been there before, she realized. She
had
been there. They had spent a week here the summer before she became pregnant with Toby. There was a cabin across the lake that belonged to one of Connor's pals on the force. She and Joel, along with Adam and the woman he was dating at the time... Laura... Lauren... Lenore, that was it. The four of them had come up together, and although his date had bailed out at the last minute, Connor had joined them for the last four days of their stay. Alone.
had
been there. They had spent a week here the summer before she became pregnant with Toby. There was a cabin across the lake that belonged to one of Connor's pals on the force. She and Joel, along with Adam and the woman he was dating at the time... Laura... Lauren... Lenore, that was it. The four of them had come up together, and although his date had bailed out at the last minute, Connor had joined them for the last four days of their stay. Alone.
Gaby felt her face heat at the memory of those long-ago days and then came a rush of anger.
“You bastard,” she shouted in his ear, wanting to make sure he heard her over the noise of the engine and the wind.
Connor jerked his head away, telling her she had been heard, all right. He slowed as the road narrowed and bent sharply, following it around to where she could now see the corner of the cabin. The only dwelling for miles around, it was exactly as she remembered it, built of dark, rough-hewn logs and shielded by trees, with a large wraparound deck designed to take full advantage of the view of the lake.
Connor turned his head just enough to talk to her. “I take it you finally recognized where we're going,” he shouted over the noise.
“I recognize it, all right,” she replied stiffly. “Why on earth did you bring me here?”
She felt him shrug, and he let up on the throttle enough to make shouting unnecessary. “I needed someplace to bring you. This was available... and out of the way. And safe.”
They came to a stop on the crushed-stone driveway next to the cabin, and she wasted no time climbing off and putting some distance between them.
“Safe?” she asked, unconsciously rubbing her legs. They felt numb from the long ride. “What do you mean, safe?”
He hesitated. “I mean that I needed a place where no one would think to look for you, and where, if anyone does come looking, I can see them before they get here.”
“You make it sound like we're hiding out, for heaven's sake.”
He shrugged. “I guess that about sums it up.”
“From whom?” she demanded.
He unfastened the canvas knapsacks and carried one, along with his helmet and other gear, up the steps to the deck without replying.
Gabrielle followed, stopping at the bottom of the steps. “From whom?” she asked again. “Answer me, damn you.”
He turned, his expression one of grim resignation. “I'm not absolutely sure. Yet. But I'd say Adam is as good a bet as anyone.”
“Adam? Are you joking? Or have you completely lost your mind?” She laughed shortly. “What am I saying? Of course you have. If you were sane, none of this would be happening.”
Connor continued toward the door of the cabin. “Want to grab that other knapsack and bring it inside with you?” he called back to her.
“No.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at his back as he walked away. “No, I do not want to carry the other knapsack inside. I don't even want to go inside. I don't want to be here, especially not with you, and I refuse to do one more thing to cooperate or make your life easier. I plan to fight you every step of the way and make things miserable for you until you let me go. Do you hear me?” she asked, her voice reaching a crescendo.
He had disappeared inside. Now he returned, crossing the deck with a familiar long-legged amble that suggested he was a man who didn't hurry for anyone or anything. Even his walk was annoying, thought Gaby. His expression, as he reached for the final knapsack, had become blasé.
“What were you saying?” he asked.
“I said,” she replied through gritted teeth, “that I have no intention of sharing that cabin with you for one night, much less a week.”
Connor sighed and reached to carefully place the canvas bag on the top step. “I see. I suppose I could just go along with that stupid idea...after pointing out, of course, that most women would consider spending a night out here alone a whole lot less appealing than sleeping under a roof with me.”
She smiled sarcastically. “Bragging, Connor?”
“I said under the same roof, not in the same bed,” he reminded her, unleashing a slow grin of his own. “But if you're interested in something more...”
“I'm not. Believe me.”
“In that case, as I was saying, I could mention the fact that you never know what might crawl out of those woods after dark, or how cold and damp the nights can get this close to the lake, even in June.”
Gaby shivered in spite of knowing that was exactly how he wanted her to react. “I happen to enjoy the night air,” she said defiantly.
“Do you also enjoy cuddling up next to a raccoon?”
“More than some creatures I can think of.”
“Touché.”
“Then it's settled,” she said, already wondering what she had gotten herself into.
“Not quite. I said I could mention all those things to you and then sit back and wait for you to put on your little rebellious-pioneer-woman act until you got tired or hungry or scared enough to admit you were wrong and come inside. But we've both already been through a lot today, and I'm not going to let you put us through that little charade, too. So for your sake as much as mine, I'm only going to say this once.” He took a step toward her, his indulgent smile vanishing. “You walk into that cabin on your own right now, or I swear I'll haul you in there.”
She met his gaze without blinking, and for one long, torturous moment Connor was convinced she was going to call his bluff and that he was going to have to grab her, toss her over his shoulder and carry her kicking and screaming into the cabin. Thoughts of how he would keep her there were even more troublesome. He'd included rope with the supplies he brought up earlier and he was prepared to use it if he had to. But God knew he didn't want it to come to that.
What he wanted was to sit down and calmly explain everything to Gabrielle and have her understand and tell him he had done the right thing in snatching her off those church steps. Hell, he wanted her to tell him he'd done the only thing he could have done, given what he knew. Maybe she would even be grateful to him for stopping her from making what might be a huge mistake and maybe, for just a second, she might even look at him with something other than contempt.
He didn't expect any of that, of course. Or deserve it, he reminded himself. That was just the way he wanted it to happen. Realistically speaking, he would be grateful if Gaby simply went into the house as he'd requested.
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