California Caress

“I know that. What are you getting at?”

“You hired me once. Now I want to hire you. It’s a job, strictly business, of course.”

Hope clutched the bedroll to her chest and sat up. Suddenly, the feel of his warm, supple flesh pressing intimately against her was a distraction she couldn’t afford. “To do what?”

“To be my wife.”

“You want to marry me?” she gasped, her dark eyes widening in surprise.

“No,” he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. He was watching her closely, gauging each emotion as it flickered across her finely honed features. “I want to hire you to pretend you’re my wife. I want you to come with me to Boston and play the part of the devoted wife to the hilt. If you do your job well, when I’m done with my brother and his wife I’ll personally return you to Virginia and buy back your estate, lock, stock and barrel.” His gaze darkened. “What you do with the rest of your life is your concern. I won’t interfere.”

He wants to by my favors, use me, then cast me aside like a piece of rubbish!

Humiliation boiled in Hope’s blood. Never could she remember feeling so insulted. The urge to slap his arrogant face was second only to the urge to grab his Colt from where he’d carelessly tossed it to the floor, and shoot him straight through the heart—if he had one! As for her own heart, it felt as though it were being brutally wrenched in two. She might have expected callous treatment from this man, but to have the reality of it so carelessly flung in her face was ten times worse than the nagging doubts she’d harbored before.

She gritted her teeth and glared at him with an intensity that went far beyond loathing. “If I agree, what proof do I have that you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” she asked tightly, refusing to look at him.

“I showed up at your damn fight in Thirsty Gulch, didn’t I?” he countered dryly. “That should prove that I’m a man of my word.” His expression hardened. “I’ll pay you. Never doubt it. I may be a gunslinger and a rogue in your eyes, but I’m no liar.”

Hope nodded briskly. If this was the only way she was going to get back her land she might as well bite her tongue and do it. At least she’d have something to call her own when all this was over. Small compensation, true, but it wasn’t as though she had much choice.

“All right,” she agreed through thin, tight lips. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.” Glaring at Drake, she inched away, bringing the bedroll with her and adding, “I’m warning you, cross me on this and whatever you have in mind for your brother and his wife will seem like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you when I find you. And I will find you, gunslinger. I’ll hunt you down like a dog if I have to, but I’ll see that you pay me.”

“Do your job and it’ll never come to that.”

It was the last thing he said before rolling onto his side, leaving Hope to brood in silence.

The urge to lash out was strong, but suppressed. With steely Bennett determination, she resolved to see this nasty job through to the end. And when it was over, when she had the money to buy back Lake’s Edge, she’d never have to lay eyes on Drake Frazier again.

Good riddance, she thought as she plopped to the floor and clutched the blanket beneath her chin. Now, if she could just convince her heart to believe what her head was telling her... not an easy feat when her soul felt severed in two.

A tear trickled down her cheek, splashing on the floor and mixing with the dust there. Gritting her teeth, she swiped it away, determined not to cry. She wouldn’t give Drake Frazier the satisfaction of seeing just how badly he’d hurt her. Instead, she concentrated on willing her body to relax. As a distraction, she focused on the gentle rhythm of Drake’s breaths. He seemed to fall asleep immediately. Soon, his soft, familiar snore filled the air.

Hope tossed and turned, toying with the idea of waking Drake up, just for spite. But she couldn’t face him yet, she needed time for his startling “proposition” to sink in. Time to mull it all over and somehow come to terms with the idea of pretending to be this cold-hearted gunslinger’s wife. Her thoughts churned as she struggled to put her warring emotions into perspective. While she was hurt that he could use her so callously, she also felt a traitorous shiver of delight at the prospect of being so close to him. This latter feeling was quickly squelched.

With a restless sigh, she rolled onto her back. The floor made a hard bed; it was even more uncomfortable without Drake’s warmth. Hope was used to the feel of him snuggling against her in the night, used to his soft snore stirring the curls that framed her brow. But as much as she missed the reassurance of his flesh against hers, she didn’t seek him out. She had her pride!

The firelight danced across the grimy ceiling beams. It was as good a place to focus her concentration as any. And that was when she heard it.

“Angelique?” The voice was sleep-softened and muffled, almost lost to the rain pelting against the window.

She tensed, the muscles in her body coiling tight, although she didn’t move. Her breathing slowed and weakened as she strained to hear every whisper of sound. Above the rain, wind, and the crackling flames in the hearth, a pang of doubt ran through her. Had she heard him call out Angelique’s name in his sleep, or was her tortured imagination playing cruel tricks on her?

Her hands fisted the bedroll as her gaze snapped to the side, in time to see Drake roll onto his back. One sun-kissed arm was flung lazily over his eyes.

“Angelique!” This time, there was no mistaking Drake’s voice, or the name he called out.

Hope sucked in a quick breath and tried to ignore the stab of betrayal that knifed through her. But the pain ran too deep, its intensity was too stunning to deny. Swallowing hard, s

he buried her face beneath the bedroll.

I thought I’d lost you, sunshine. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. With the memory of those words came the first sliver of rage. Instead of pushing the feeling away, Hope clung to the thread of anger. It wasn’t easy, but by applying a little Bennett determination, she managed to funnel her pain into boiling fury. It helped.

Her jaw hardened as she lowered the bedroll to glare at the handsome, sleeping face of the man beside her.

The rotten bastard! She had believed him. No, she hadn’t just believed him, she’d welcomed his admission with open arms. But it hadn’t been an admission of affection, Hope fumed, it had been his way of securing an agreement from her—an agreement that would see her pretending to be his wife. For some reason Drake needed her to get back at Charles and Angelique, and he would stop at nothing to secure her loyalty, even if it meant hinting at an affection he didn’t feel. An affection he reserved for “the only woman he could ever love.”

Damn him! No matter what Angelique had done, Drake still loved her. Why else would he call out her name in his sleep? Why else would he hire a woman to play his wife? Of course he didn’t want to marry Hope. He wanted to be free for Angelique once Charles was ruined!