His Abductor's Desire (5 page)

He pulled back to look into her eyes, searching for a sign of the girl he had known. He thought he saw her there staring back at him, but she was a woman now, wiser and more experienced, with all the complexities that promised. But he realized the need to tread carefully until he knew for sure.

He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheekbones, her brow.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

Charity stiffened beneath him and he wondered if he had revealed too much too soon, but then she cupped his face in her hands and brought his lips to hers. It was a tender kiss, full of warmth and wonder. “Me, too,” she whispered back.

* * *

Curling up next to her, Brent drew her into his arms. She came to him readily, her back to his chest, her buttocks nestled against his groin. He closed his eyes and buried his nose in the sweet jasmine scent of her hair. It felt so right to hold her. To kiss her. His lips pressed small kisses to the tender spot behind her ear, the curve of her neck. His hands closed over her breast and belly, wrapping both him and her in the chains. He silently cursed the objects which represented her distrust, but he wanted the decision to remove them to be hers so he didn’t press the issue.

After a moment of gentle quiet, savoring the feel of closeness, she wiggled her hips against him. “Ah, Charity, don’t do that. You make me want you again.”

She stilled briefly, undoubtedly feeling his rigid length against her, but then moved again and this time he knew it was deliberate.

His hand clamped on her hip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me. Please. Once more?”

He groaned then and rolled her beneath him.

It should have taken them much longer since their bodies had been so recently sated, but it was as if the first time had only made them greedy for more. Their loving was a frenzied, almost panicked thing as they rediscovered what had been lost to them for so many years. Soon the cabin filled with the sounds of their mingled voices as they found release.

When it was over they clung to each other as if afraid something might come to tear them apart again. Charity fell asleep immediately, too sated and bone-weary to stay awake, but sleep eluded Brent. So he stayed awake stroking her back, unable to keep from touching her, looking at her, until the cold threatened their sanctuary. Then he gently disentangled himself from her and felt beneath the bed for the key he had hidden there. Moments later he slipped from the shackles and headed downstairs to add more wood to the fire.

Chapter Six

The storm raged outside the cabin, bringing with it fierce gusts of wind and memories of the lonely winters Charity and Elle had spent there. Dew spent the winter with her mother’s people and even though she had always left them well supplied to make it through the harrowing months, that did nothing for the cold and boredom. Sometimes Charity didn’t know which was worse.

Still half-asleep, she shivered and snuggled deeper into the fur, though it did little to warm her, and soon became dimly aware that she was naked. It took a few moments for her sleep-fogged brain to process that knowledge and it was only when she shifted and felt the pleasant soreness between her legs that she fully remembered what had transpired earlier that night. She should have felt shocked to her very core, but she only felt happy and awash in an unfamiliar feeling of contentment. Maybe in the morning the shock would set in but for now she just wanted to snuggle against Brent’s warm body and go back to sleep.

But when she reached for him, she found his side of the bed empty and cold. Her eyes shot open to confirm that he was gone and as they gradually became adjusted to the darkness she made out the shadowy bulk of his chains and shackles strewn casually across the bed.

“Oh, God!” she whispered and scrambled out of bed.

Two concerns hit her at once. The first was that he had stupidly attempted to leave and was out in the storm; the second was that he was wise enough to wait for the storm to pass before leaving which meant she had become the captive. The first worry was put to rest when she stopped at the top of the ladder and made out his form wrapped in a buffalo robe sitting before the blazing fire. He saw her at the same moment she saw him and slowly came to his feet.

Charity hesitated, unsure what to do without a weapon for protection. Her gaze flicked to her gun but it was hanging in its holster near the fireplace. Closer to him than to her.

He must have read her fear because he stayed where he was and spoke softly. “I could have chained you while you slept if that’s what I wanted.”

He waited for the truth of that statement to sink in before he invited her down. “Please join me at the fire. I just added more wood.”

Still she hesitated. “How did you get free?”

“The key.”

Charity knew she had left the key hanging on the nail near her gun. “That’s impossible,” she stubbornly insisted.

He raised a brow, too much of a gentleman to point out the absurdity of her disbelief given he stood before her a free man.

She thought back to the last time she had seen the key and immediately knew who the culprit had been. Elle. Elle had transferred him to the cabin and secured him in the loft. Charity had been too trusting to make sure the key had been returned.

“If it’s any comfort, I’m not entirely sure she meant to leave it.”

It wasn’t, but by then she was too busy wondering why he had not freed himself during the day while she was outside avoiding him.

“Why did you let me think you were still my captive?”

His eyes appeared almost black in the shadowed cabin, giving nothing away. “I wanted you.”

Of course, what able-bodied man would turn down sex when it was so blatantly offered? Not that it mattered, really. The whole thing had been ridiculous. She realized now there was no purging him from her system. No matter how many times they made love, she would always want more of him.

With a sigh of resignation, she pulled the heavy fur around her like a shield of armor and carefully made her way down the ladder. “Don’t worry. I probably would have returned you after the storm anyway. I’ve realized my folly and the logistical nightmare of ransoming you.” She tried to sound strong and in control of the situation as she walked to the warmth of the fire.

“Done with me so soon, are you?”

Charity kept her eyes focused on the flames, unwilling to answer and expose her feelings on the matter. The thought of living with her unrequited love—she knew now that love was the appropriate emotion—made her miserable, but that wasn’t even her biggest problem now. The biggest problem was staying alive and keeping Dew and Elle safe because he would surely want them tried for the robberies and the kidnapping.

“I can return most of the gold and cash if you promise Dew and Elle will be kept out of it.”

When he didn’t respond she saw an expression of such anguish on his face that she almost reached out to him. Almost. Almost because the expression was such a juxtaposition to what she expected that it made her question if she was reading it correctly. The room was dark with only the dancing flames for light and Brent stood to her in profile as he watched them. Her gaze darted away, uncertain.

After another few moments passed in silence, Charity fairly squirmed on the inside from awaiting his judgment. Surely he must have figured out what to do with her long ago and was only torturing her. The chance of him letting her go was virtually nonexistent, but the optimist in her needed to hear the words before she gave up on them.

“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” The question was soft and low, barely traversing the space between them.

“Not a chance.”

The words were so hard and determined, she jerked her head around to look at him. Nope, no anguish or compassion there. She faced a wall of stone cold resolve.

“Dew and Elle?”

“I don’t care about Dew and Elle.”

He seemed so angry now and so different from the almost cordial attitude of a moment ago that she took an unintentional step back, while attempting to maintain the feeling of calm and continue the bargaining. “Okay, if you can promise me that, then when the storm is over I can take you to the gold.”

Self-preservation was a skill she had learned since her father’s death and her subsequent flee from Boston and it kicked in now. Maybe she could escape from him during the search for the gold. She had already grasped at the idea of lunging for her gun but had rejected it almost immediately. There was no way she could manhandle him into the chains again and the idea of holding a gun on him the entire time they rode out the storm was equally ludicrous. Besides, she realized now that she couldn’t use it on him. And he probably did, too.

Escape was the only option.

He moved toward her but she only backed up again. “Charity, stop,” he gritted out. “I don’t want the gold. You’ll probably have to give that back at some point, but I don’t want to turn you in.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and the buffalo robe fell forgotten to the floor. “What a bastard you must think I am.”

Charity couldn’t stop her silent gasp when she saw he was naked. Sure, they had spent the better part of the evening making love but this was different. He was more magnificent than she had remembered.

Her cheeks flamed as she admired the strong, lean physique of the man in front of her. Her gaze moved over every part of him and her belly clenched longingly as a shiver ran through her.

“Would you care to see the backside now?” He cocked one brow.

“What? No—no. I—” Charity realized there was no gracious way to recover from her gaffe so she closed her eyes until she recovered and then took a deep breath. “You’re not turning me in? But you aren’t letting me go, either?”

“I’m not turning you in,” he began slowly. “Come back with me...to Boston.”

“I can’t go back there,” she replied automatically.

“It’s your home.”

“My home was taken from me because of
your
uncle, or have you forgotten that? This is the only home I have.” She gestured with a nod because her hands held the fur wrapped around her nakedness.

“There are some things we need to discuss.” When she only glared at him with untrusting eyes, he relented. “I know what Uncle Robert did to your family and he won’t be a problem. I’ve been assisting a two-year investigation into his handling of the family company and into his own personal investments. The government has enough evidence to convict him of fraud, money laundering, theft, you name it. Your father wasn’t the only one to lose his fortune with the fictitious Canadian mines or railroad contracts.” He sighed, sounding incredibly weary. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life restoring Davenport Capital to the company my grandfather built. That fool almost lost it all. He’ll be arrested next month, when he returns from Europe. He’ll pay for what he’s done.”

For the first time Charity realized the evil of Robert Davenport had expanded far past her small life. How many other families had been destroyed because of him? How many others had he killed? “Including murder.”

Brent’s gaze jerked back to her.

“My father was shot in an alley. No one else had a reason to want him dead. Add murder to your list of crimes for him.”

“I’m sorry, Charity. I think you could be right—I’d wondered that, too—but so far we haven’t been able to link any disappearances or deaths to Robert.” His arms opened, inviting her into them. “Come home with me. I can’t bring your father back, but I can help make things right again. You shouldn’t have to live this way.”

She turned away as if he had slapped her. His lust she welcomed and if he offered to stay with her because their lovemaking had been so amazing, she probably would have agreed. It had been that good between them and fool that she was she loved him so much she would take whatever scrap he threw her way; but she could not accept pity. Especially from him.

“I’m sorry the accommodations don’t live up to the Davenport standards. I’ll take you down the mountain after the storm blows over.” She mumbled as she started toward the ladder to get dressed. The ridiculousness of her nakedness under the buffalo robe had finally occurred to her.

“Darling, wait, don’t put my name between us.” He grabbed at her shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t.” She jerked away. “I don’t want to ‘come to an agreement’ with you.” She snapped, alluding to his proposition from the first day. “Put some clothes on.” In her haste to put distance between them, she dropped the fur so she could scurry up the ladder faster.

“Charity, dammit, talk to me...please.”

It was the “please” that made her turn on her knees in the loft and look down at him.

“I shouldn’t have left you. That’s what I should have said to you first. I should have come to your room that night, because if I had I would have realized...I would have realized what I was too much of a coward to admit. I love you. I suspected it then, but I was only twenty-two and, Christ, you were seventeen. I thought I was too young for love, so I ran from it...from you.” When she didn’t move, he grabbed the ladder but didn’t make a move to ascend.

“That’s a beautiful story, Brent, but we barely knew each other.”
What is wrong with you?
Isn’t this what you want?
Charity chastised herself. She wanted to believe him but his words were too close to what she wanted to hear and if there was one thing life had taught her it was that you never got what you wanted.

“I know, that’s exactly what I told myself and I thought by leaving, by sleeping my way through Paris and Vienna, that I could forget you. For the first year, I thought I had succeeded, but I didn’t. When I saw
Iolanthe
again I wanted to see you laughing as you watched it. I couldn’t see tulips without remembering they were your favorite. I smelled jasmine everywhere. Only after leaving did I realize how much I needed you, needed to know more of you.” He paused then, his sapphire eyes locked imploringly on hers. “Let me know more of you.”

Oh, God, she wanted to believe him. “You didn’t seem interested in knowing more of me earlier,” she reminded him quietly, suspiciously.

He saw her hesitation and slowly climbed the ladder until he was close enough to touch her but then held back. His hands gripped the railing. “You had kidnapped me at gunpoint and chained me to a wall. I was angry but what made it worse was how cold you were and how you hated me, as if you didn’t remember anything that happened before.” He paused and then admitted grudgingly. “I was hurt, but the way you responded to me tonight—I know nothing has changed between us.” Then more softly, “And it’s no accident I’m here in Montana.”

Charity’s hands clenched tight in her effort to keep from reaching out to him. “What does that mean?”

“I hired a detective to look into where you’d gone. He followed your trail from Boston but you seemed to disappear here in Montana.” He smiled at her skeptical look. “You don’t believe me. In the spring of ‘84 you boarded a train with Elle Stanton bound for St. Louis and then took another to Iowa. A few months later you hired a coach bound for Helena, but when it arrived you and Elle were not on it. I don’t know what happened to you then. We checked each town along the way but found nothing. Finally, last spring the detective thought he’d found you in town and I came as soon as I could get away. I have his reports in my suite in Helena. You’re welcome to review them, but to do that you’ll have to agree to come back to my suite.”

“I want to believe you.” She really did and it was hard to deny the dates. Elle had thought it best not to take a straight route just in case they were followed so it had taken them more than a year to make it to Helena. The hard facade faded and she suddenly looked and felt like the seventeen-year-old girl they both remembered. “But I can’t go back to Boston. All the people who turned their backs on us and then to be your...your...” Could she be his mistress somewhere else? Somewhere besides Boston? She closed her eyes, unwilling to face the truth.

“Wife,” he supplied.

Charity looked into his eyes and tried to find a trace of something that was not genuine, but he only looked strangely boyish and hopeful. “You want to marry me?”

“I love you. After tonight...I know I love you. I can’t lose you again.” His fingers delved into her honeyed hair as he leaned close and kissed her. “Be my wife.”

“I...” She wanted to believe. Wanted to spend her life with him, but the cynical part of her, the part that had kept her alive, couldn’t let go. What if he only sought her cooperation to get her to go back into town passively with him?

He saw the doubt in her eyes and growled in frustration just before he plucked her from her perch and threw her over his shoulder like a caveman. He then gently deposited her on the pile of blankets and furs in front of the fire.