The Price of Pleasure (Sutherland Brothers 2)

She caught his gaze. He looked crazed, tortured, his control gone, and that took her over the edge. She cried out, convulsing around him, riding him, rolling her hips as he ground into her, making the pleasure too strong.... He watched her climax, his eyes dark and wild on her, fierce with want.

She was still squeezing around him when he wrenched her down against his chest, so rigid and wracked under her hands, until he yelled her name and his hot seed pumped into her.

Thirty-three

Diffused sunlight split the curtains in Victoria's room, waking Grant. When he looked down his chest, he was startled to see waves of blond hair covering him. Could he be so fortunate? Could he truly have spent the early hours of the morning making love to her and not just dreamed it again? Yes, last night had been real--incredibly, vividly real.

He was still alarmed by his want of her. Sometimes he felt craven with it. But now, with her sleeping form against his chest, his arms around her, he just wanted to squeeze her, to clasp her tight to him so she could know his feelings for her, how they confounded him in their strength. He'd never thought to have this and flinched to think how close he'd come to throwing it away.

He wanted to luxuriate in simply holding her, but knew he needed to ascertain the damage to the barn and get work under way, so with a weary exhalation, he rose and dressed. Careful not to wake her after the long night, he kissed her before leaving.

When he reached the valley, he saw that no part of the structure remained. In its place was a mound of smoking ash. Grant found Huckabee there and conferred with him, and they set the few who were there to work cleaning the old site.

Grant's first job was to find more workers. His second was to discover who'd dealt them this blow.

Stunned by the events of last night, Tori sat at her grandfather's desk, her emotions hurtling from elation that she and Grant had made love once more to devastation over the fire. When Grant strode through the doorway, she didn't even ask how bad it was. She could already tell from the tightness around his eyes.

He exhaled, then shook his head.

"Right before shearing and lambing," she said in a deadened tone. "Nothing could have hurt us worse."

When Grant raised his eyebrows, she realized she'd said "us." It didn't matter. He'd find out sooner or later that she wasn't letting him leave.

He sank down in the chair across from her and reviewed what he and Huckabee had decided for the rebuilding. "I hope I didn't overstep."

"No, I agree with everything you've said," Tori assured him. "I wouldn't have handled it differently."

He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Victoria, we need to talk about the actual fire. It was deliberately set."

"That's impossible--"

"I smelled kerosene. There was a puddle of water actually burning, and a section of sodden clay as well. As if someone had pitched the kerosene all around the ground."

She grabbed her forehead. "Why?"

"To send you a warning, I suspect. Or to make you vulnerable."

"Who? Who would--" She broke off as a suspicion arose. "I wrote a letter to the broker just a couple days ago. He'd been shorting us for years. He owes us a huge amount."

"McClure?"

At her nod, he said, "I want a list of all the creditors."

An hour later, after poring over contracts, Grant muttered, "Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"This credit company--West London Financiers. That's the broker's company. M. McClure." He sat at the edge of the desk and slid the documents to her.

"That can't be. Wouldn't there be a conflict of interest?"

"Yes, but this company's as shady as they come. They offer favorable rates of interest, yet in all their contracts they reserve the right to escalate the rate. Just when the borrower has difficulties, McClure tightens the noose."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because several years ago, Ian was in to them for thousands of pounds. He had to borrow money just to pay off McClure's henchmen."

"Oh, my Lord."

"This man was lending the earl what was in essence his own money. He'd cheat Belmont and then extend the earl's credit. There can be no doubt that he wants this place."

She was silent for some time. "Now I know why you put such a high value on your honor." Her eyes were sad. "Because you've dealt with those who have none."

He said nothing.

"Grant, what should I do?" she asked. "Go to the sheriff? Bring the law into this?"

"It won't stop another attack."

Her eyes widened. "You think something like this will happen again?"

He regarded her with a grim expression. "No doubt of it."

She suddenly felt very tired. "What do you suggest?"

"I'd already made up my mind to confront McClure." His eyes narrowed. "Have the bastard beaten if necessary."

Tori was astonished. He looked dark and forbidding.

"If I have to, then I'll play his game to protect what's..." He trailed off.

"What's yours," she said quietly. "Like the estate."

He pulled her up to him and put his forehead to hers. "I wasn't speaking of the estate. I meant you."

"How should I know that?" she whispered.

"Because you are what I came back here to fight for."

She leaned back, shaking her head. "You don't have to say these things. You came back for the estate, and I understand why--"

"The deed is in your name."

"Wh-What?" she sputtered.

He stroked her cheek. "It has been since before I returned here."

"So why?..."

"I couldn't conceive of a better way to be around you."

"So you came back for me?" Her heart beat madly. For me?

He nodded solemnly.

"That was your plan?"

"It's always good to have a plan."

She gave him a wry grin. "How's it working out?"

The corners of his lips quirked up. "I am quite optimistic after last night."

"I can't believe you gave it up for me."

He turned from her and his face hardened. "It's not going to matter if McClure burns your home down around you. That's why I'm leaving today--"

"I'm going with you," she interrupted.

He smiled ruefully. "Why did I expect you to say that? I'd already planned to drop you at Whitestone."

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"It's not safe here, and you're not going to London."

"I most certainly am going with you. Or without you," she added ominously.

"This is dangerous. There's no way I'm risking you being hurt. You're going to Whitestone and that's final."

She tapped her cheek and assumed a thoughtful expression. "I hadn't thought your family the type to tie someone down or lock them in a bedchamber."

He looked nonplussed.

"That's the only way they'll keep me there."

"Forget it, Victoria. There's simply no way I'll allow it."

"I can't believe you're still grousing," Victoria said lightly as they walked arm in arm along a side street in London.

He scowled down at her, trying to ignore how excited--and beguiling--she looked with her bonnet ribbons flapping against her pink cheeks. He wanted to kiss her and draw her close. Instead, he grumbled, "I can't believe you manipulated me into taking you with me."

She smiled up at him, eyes adoring. When she looked at him like that, he could deny her nothing. Worse, he feared she'd concluded that as well.

"Grant, I just appealed to your logic. If you'd left me at Whitestone, I'd have followed. Only then I wouldn't have been be under your watchful eye for protection. Imagine me"--she put her hand to her breast--"on the road to London, alone, afraid..."

His lips curled. She smiled back, then looked past him. "Wait, this is it."

He stopped her, placing her to face him. "I want you to say nothing. I'm going to handle this."

She rolled her eyes. "As you've told me

twenty times already."

Grant made some growling noise at her and then opened the door for them. "We're here to see Mr. McClure," he said to the office attendant.

The young man looked confused but went to confer with his employer. Minutes later, he returned to show them into the office.

One look at the broker had Grant raising his eyebrows and Victoria dropping her jaw.

M. McClure was a woman.

Thirty-four

Tori inwardly groaned when the woman surveyed Grant appreciatively. She smoothed her shining, dark blond hair and sauntered up to him with a hand out. "Miranda McClure," she announced. He clasped her hand, but she thrust it into his palm so that they shook like men.

"Grant Sutherland," he answered in a discomfited voice. Young and alluring, Miranda was probably the last thing he'd expected.