“God knows I shouldn’t, but yes, I still love him.” Luke opened his mouth to ask another, probably more intimate, question. She silenced him by slashing a finger over his lips. “Don’t ask me why, Luke, because I can’t even explain it to myself. I’ve tried, but I can’t. All I know is that this last month was sheer hell. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lost, so empty in my entire life.” She smiled at him. “Except for when I thought all of you were dead.”
“And Frazier? How does he feel? Does he love you, too?”
“I think the lady should ask me that question herself.”
Hope gasped. The grittily familiar voice made her head snap up. The ripped out stalks of grass fluttered from her hand, unnoticed, as her gaze shot over her shoulder. Were it not for her brother’s look of surprise, she would have passed the vision off as nothing more than a pleasantly haunting mirage.
D
rake Frazier had cleared the gate and was closing the distance between them in quick, sure strides that she could feel vibrating through the ground beneath her palm. The tight-fitting denims outlined every sinewy muscle in his firm thighs and hips, and her gaze feasted on the sight. The loosened buttons at his collar displayed a curling vee of enticingly thick hair as it powdered the firm chest below the light blue bandanna. Her hands itched as she remembered the feel of that silky pelt under her fingertips. As always, the cracked leather hat rode low on his brow, and Hope ached to reach out and smooth away the golden strands that were scattered over his forehead.
She was on her feet in an instant, the minty silk billowing around her suddenly weak ankles. Her knees, traitors that they were, were trembling almost as violently as her hands. Her breathing was deep and ragged, her palms moist with nervous perspiration. Her eyes were round, shimmering with disbelief and desire.
Drake stopped a handsbreadth away, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, caressing her flesh as though the impediments of mint green silk and white cotton no longer existed. His hand reached up to stroke her cheek, but hesitated over the smooth, cool skin. It stayed poised in midair for a split second before dropping back to his hip.
The sea-green gaze, cast in enticing shadows, raked her body, as though trying to commit every delicate curve, every line, to memory.
“Well?” he said finally, his voice husky with pent-up emotion. “Are you going to ask me, sunshine?”
His warm, sweet breath kissed her upturned cheek and her breath lodged in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, words refused to form. She stopped trying as her gaze riveted itself to the tiny lines shooting away from those piercing eyes. She thought she had never seen anything quite so wonderful, or so heady!
“Hope, he’s talking to you, Hope?” Luke gently nudged his sister’s ribs with his elbow, but she didn’t seem to notice. He tried again as his gaze flickered between the two. As far as they were concerned, he might not have existed. “She’s real glad to see you, Frazier. Ain’t that right, Hope? Hoo-oope?” He jabbed her again.
Hope managed a fleeting nod, her eyes never leaving Drake. How long had he been standing at the gate? How much had he heard? She gulped.
Grudgingly, Drake yanked his gaze from Hope, averting his attention to a beaming Luke. The smile that came to his lips was immediate. “How’ve you been, Luke?” He reached out with one hand and shook the big man’s hand, using the other to clap Luke heartily on the shoulder. Relief mixed with affection sparked in his eyes.
Hope didn’t hear her brother’s answer over the wild pounding of her heart. The two men seemed to talk for hours, although in reality it was only a few short minutes. Before she knew what he was about, Luke pumped Drake’s hand again, welcomed him whole-heartedly to Virginia, gave him a slap on the back that would have landed a lesser man on his knees, then left the tiny cemetery.
Birds chirped high in the rustling branches and the rat-a-tat sound of a hammer beating a nailhead echoed up the hill, keeping perfect time with the wild pounding of Hope’s heart. Suddenly, she was excruciatingly aware of just how alone her brother’s abrupt departure left them. Their solitude was reflected in Drake’s darkened glance.
“Come here often?” he asked, nodding to the grave by her feet. His gaze ran over the weathered inscription before returning to Hope. Regret lit his eyes.
“I—yes. Every day if I can.” Her voice was weak, but outwardly calm, a stark contrast to the emotions churning within. She buried her hands in the pocket of her skirt and, surrendering to a desperate need for small talk, voiced the first question that sprang to mind. She could have bitten off her tongue! “What are you doing here, gunslinger? You’re supposed to be in Boston, ruining your brother and—” romancing his wife, she finished silently. Flushing hotly, she looked away.
The memory of her own mouth, swollen from his brother's harsh kisses, prompted Drake to reach up and run the tip of his thumb across her full lower lip. A tightening started in his thighs, spread through his loins, and pooled in his gut. “Charles won’t be bothering us again,” he said. “I saw to that before I left.”
She shivered, sucking in a ragged breath. Her senses were beginning to scatter like dry leaved in the wind and her voice weakened until it was no stronger than a whisper. “And Angelique?”
Instinctively, her gaze slipped past his broad shoulder. Hope half-expected to see the calculating witch awaiting her lover at the wrought iron gate, a feline smile of satisfaction curling her lips. Instead, there was only the towering white oak, and the place where ground met sky before arching back down the hillside.
“She isn’t here, sunshine.”
“Oh.” Whatever else she was about to say was lost as Drake surrendered to undeniable temptation. Gathering her into his arms, he gently lowered his lips to hers.
His mouth was insistent, probing, demanding a response that Hope had no choice but to give. And she responded to their bodies’ urgent craving with a willingness that astounded him.
Her hands inched up, encircling his neck, teasing the silky golden curls that tickled her fingertips. With a husky groan, she pulled him closer, willing herself to melt her softness into his firmly worked chest. Insistently, she arched against him. The spicy scent of leather and sweat surrounded her as she opened beneath his searching tongue.
His hands, encircling the indentation of her waist, pulled her closer. Their hips meshed and a stifled moan escaped his suddenly parched throat. He didn’t know how much more of this sweet torture he could stand, yet at the same time, he was afraid a more outright advance would scare her away. He satisfied himself with the sensuous thrust and retreat of her velvety tongue, and, holding his desire firmly in check, launched his own hot pursuit of that kind.
Then his teeth nibbled at her full lower lip, causing a surge of breathless anticipation to tingle up her spine. Hope's heart sang with desire as she slipped her hands down his upper arms, reveling in the feel of hard muscles bunching beneath her palm. The stubble-coated jaw grazed her cheek as he trailed kisses to the curl of her ear. She tilted her chin up and to the right, basking in the familiar, bristly sensation of his whiskers scraping against her skin. It was a feeling she had thought she would never experience again.
“Come back to Boston with me,” he whispered throatily, his breath in her ear.
“You should have waited a few weeks, gunslinger,” she sighed through softly parted lips. “That’s exactly where I was heading. I—I have another job offer for you.”
His tongue lingered over the small shell of her ear, tasting, teasing. Slowly, her words sank into his passion-fogged brain. He lifted his head, capturing her gaze. He looked deeply into those large, enticing brown eyes and tried to assess the meaning behind her words. A wave of guilt washed over him. “I should explain about that.” He shifted self-consciously. “I guess there are a lot of things I should explain to you.”