Читать книгу Into His Private Domain - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 9

Put her to bed. Gareth tensed inwardly as images teased his brain. Him. Gracie. Tumbling with abandon between the sheets on his comfortable king-size mattress. He’d never brought a woman into his bedroom on Wolff Mountain. Whenever his physical needs overrode his phenomenal control, he sought out one of a handful of women who were as much loners as he was. Mature women who weren’t interested in relationships.

But the last such encounter had been ages ago. And the Wolff was hungry. Put a red hood on Gracie, and she’d be in big trouble. Or maybe she was in trouble already. Taking advantage of a damsel in distress wasn’t his style, but then again, he had never felt such a visceral and instantaneous response to a woman.

He wanted her desperately, and they had only met. At some anonymous bar in a big city he could have invited her back to his room. But this was Wolff Mountain, and different rules applied. Though he was a reluctant host, he had no business lusting after her.

She stood up, her expression half defiance, half vulnerability. “Couldn’t I stay here, Jacob? You know… in case anything happens.”

“No way.” Gareth blurted it out, uncensored.

Jacob and Gracie stared at him.

He shrugged, refusing to admit he had a proprietary interest in the redhead. “Jacob’s a soft touch.” He directed his remarks to Gracie. “I want you where I can keep an eye on you.”

Jacob frowned at his brother. “Gareth’s bark is worse than his bite, Gracie. He’ll take good care of you. But don’t worry. I’ll be around in the morning to see how you’re doing.” He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Try not to worry. Everything will be fine. I’d stake my license on it.”

Gareth ushered Gracie back out to the Jeep, this time letting her walk on her own. He’d liked holding her too damn much. It was best to keep his distance.

The short ride back was silent. Temperatures had dropped, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gracie pull the blankets to her chin. When they arrived at the house, he realized that he was actually going to have to be hospitable. And since she swayed on her feet from exhaustion, he shouldn’t waste any time.

He motioned for her to follow him. At the insistence of his architect brother Kieran, Gareth had agreed to a five-bedroom home. The square footage had seemed like a useless expenditure during construction… and now, four of the bedrooms sat unoccupied. But at least for tonight, Gracie would have a place to lay her head.

He showed her the suite that would be hers… for a very short time, he promised himself. Too long, and his iron control might snap. “The bathroom is through that door.” Even now his hands trembled with the need to touch her.

He eyed her clothing. She was still wearing the simple cotton blouse and jeans she’d had on when she arrived. “I’ll find something for you to sleep in. Tomorrow we’ll work on getting you some clothes.”

When he returned two minutes later with one of his old T-shirts, Gracie was still in the same spot, her expression stark, haunted. Unwillingly his heart contracted. If she was telling the truth about her amnesia, she must be scared as hell. But sweet and courageous, and so damned appealing in her determination not to break down. The reluctant admiration he felt had to be squashed.

When he brushed her arm, she jumped, as if she had been a million miles away. He offered the substitute sleepwear. “Sorry I can’t do better. You’ll find toiletries in the drawers and on the counter. I let my cousin do the decorating, and she promised me that no bathroom was complete without all sorts of smelly soaps and doodads. Help yourself.”

Gracie took the shirt and held it, white-knuckled. “Will you be in your bedroom?”

God help him. He knew she meant nothing by her artless question, but it shook him. “Yeah. As soon as I lock up and turn out the lights.” He paused, feeling uncustomarily conflicted, since he rarely second-guessed himself. “Remember… I’m just around the corner. Maybe if you leave a light on, things won’t seem so strange.”

She nodded her head slowly. “Okay.”

Something about her posture was heartbreaking. She was doing nothing to deliberately manipulate his sympathies, but the bravery in her narrow shoulders set so straight and the uplifted tilt of her chin touched him in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

He hardened his heart. “Good night, Gracie.”

She heard the door shut quietly behind him and felt tears burn her eyes. It took great effort, but she held them at bay by virtue of biting down on her bottom lip and swallowing hard. She refused to let Gareth see her exhibit weakness. He was a hard, suspicious man, despite his physical appeal.

Even so, she wanted him. And the wanting scared her. She felt like the heroine of a dark, Gothic novel, left all alone with the brooding lord of a sprawling, mysterious house.

A glance at the clock sent her stumbling into the bathroom. No wonder she was so wiped out. It was late. Everything would look better in the morning. Darkness invariably bred bogeymen and unseen monsters. Her lack of memory fueled the fires of apprehension.

Gareth had told the truth about the facilities and accoutrements. The floor was inlaid with cream-colored marble veined in gold. An enormous mirror ran the entire length of one wall, showing Gracie reflection after reflection of a strange woman with unkempt hair and no makeup.

Jacob had covered her stitches with a waterproof bandage. Doggedly she stripped off her clothing and climbed into the enormous polished granite enclosure that boasted three showerheads and a steam valve. The hot water pelted her back and rained over her arms and legs. She bowed her head, braced her hands against the wall and cried.

When the tears finally ran out, she picked up a fluffy sponge and squirted it with herbal soap from a fancy bottle inscribed in French. The aroma was heavenly.

Twenty minutes later she forced herself to get out and dry off. Gareth’s T-shirt hung to her knees, half exposing one of her shoulders. The woman in the mirror appeared waifish and very much alone.

She took a few minutes to wash out her undies and hang them on a brass towel rod to dry before returning to the bedroom. In her absence, Gareth had left several items on the bedside table. A pair of thick woolen socks, a tumbler of water with two pain pills and a copy of Newsweek. She wasn’t sure if the latter was for entertainment or edification.

She put on the socks, and for the first time all day, felt a glimmer of humor at how ridiculous she looked. Even with no memory, she knew that a man like Gareth had his pick of women. He might be surly and prickly, but he exuded a potent masculinity that any female from eighteen to eighty would have to be blind not to notice.

Though her accommodations were worthy of the finest resort, sleep didn’t come easily. She tossed and turned, even when the medication dulled the ache in her leg and her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered waking up in Gareth’s bed and seeing two strange men staring down at her with varying degrees of suspicion.

Why had she come to Wolff Mountain? What did she hope to accomplish? Was her father involved in something dishonest? The questions tumbled in her brain faster and faster, erasing any hope of slumber.

Finally, when the crystal clock on the bedside table read two-thirty, Gracie climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. It wouldn’t hurt to explore the house. She’d seen very little of it so far. Maybe there was something out there that would jog her memory.

And besides, she was hungry. With her heart beating like a runaway train, she eased open the door to the hall.

Gareth knew the moment she left her room. He’d always been a light sleeper, at least as an adult, and even the faint whisper of Gracie’s soft footsteps was enough to wake him. His frequent insomnia was the penance he paid for defying his father’s wishes and enlisting in the military. A five-year stint in the army had taught Gareth that deep sleep could be fatal. It served him right for giving his father such grief.

Gareth crept down the hallway, following the muffled trail of sounds. He found his houseguest in the kitchen. At first, her mission was prosaic. She poured a glass of milk and consumed it with a chunk of cheddar cheese and a slice of bread.

When she was finished, she carefully washed her glass and saucer and placed them back in the cabinet. Gareth grinned. Did she think she was erasing any record of her nocturnal wanderings?

His amusement faded when she approached the laptop on the built-in desk. All important files were password protected, but a knowledgeable hacker could cause mischief even still. Gracie sat in the swivel chair, tucked her feet on the rungs and began to hit keys with a sure touch.

He worked his way around the adjoining room until he was able to approach her from behind. Her head was bent. She was focused intently on the computer screen.

Gareth’s temper surged. He stepped into the room, girded for battle. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

Her gasp was audible. She whirled to face him, guilt etched on her face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to poke your nose into my business… is that it?” He glanced down at the laptop and his jaw dropped. Hell. He hated being wrong.

She shrugged, her expression wry. “Apparently I remember how to play Solitaire.”

“So I see.”

She cocked her head and frowned. “Why would I be poking into your business? Do you think that’s the kind of woman I am?”

He refused to apologize for well-founded suspicion. “I don’t know what kind of woman you are. Therein lies the problem.”

She shut down the game and stood up. “I’ll go back to my room,” she said, every syllable drenched in offended dignity.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he muttered. “Do whatever you want.” She wore his T-shirt like a centerfold model striking a pose, but he was a hundred percent certain her seductive invitation was unintentional.

As he turned to leave, running from temptation if the truth were told, she stopped him with a beseeching look. “Please tell me about your family… this place. Maybe something you say will trigger a memory.”

“That’s a convenient excuse.” He still wasn’t convinced that Gracie wasn’t a reporter looking for a story. His family had suffered terribly at the hands of the press, the Wolff tragedy and grief offered up for public consumption without remorse. Never again.

Dark smudges beneath her eyes emphasized her pallor. “Please,” she said quietly. “Anything. Tell me anything. I’ve combed my cell phone and I did a Google search on myself and my father. But I didn’t find out much except that we own a gallery.”

In spite of himself, compassion surfaced. “You’re on top of a mountain in the Blue Ridge. My family moved here in the eighties. My uncle and my father live in a huge house at the very peak. My siblings and cousins and I are in varying stages of building homes here as well.”

She frowned. “You all live here together? Like a commune?”

“Not a commune,” he grated. “It’s over a thousand acres. We’re hardly in each other’s pockets.”

“So, more like the Kennedys at Hyannis Port.”

“I suppose. But none of us are in politics, thank God.”

“You’re wealthy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You could say that.” It was damned hard to carry on a conversation when he kept getting distracted by the way her nipples pressed against the soft knit fabric. All he had to do was reach for her arm and pull her against him. The knowledge dried his mouth. He didn’t think she would stop him. Though not any more vain than the next man, he had seen interest in her unguarded gaze earlier in the day.

But he was an honorable man. Damn it.

She frowned. “If I hiked through the woods, how did I know which house was yours?”

“You had an aerial photograph in your bag.” He shrugged. “My place is circled in black marker.”

Now, every last shred of color leached from her face. “So all we know for sure is that I was trespassing and that I wanted something from you.”

“That’s it in a nutshell. And based on the conversation you had with your father, he knows why you came and thinks you’re faking amnesia to get what you want.”

Her lips twisted. “Maybe I don’t want to remember. It sounds like I’m not a very nice person.” She paused. “Why didn’t I simply drive up the road?”

“It’s private. You wouldn’t have gotten past the guard gate without an appointment.”

“Hence my ill-advised hike.”

“Apparently.”

“I’m sorry,” she said simply.

“For what?”

“For whatever I was going to do. I wish I could remember.”

“When you came to my door, you said you needed to talk to me about something.”

“And then what happened?”

He felt his neck redden. “I may have been a trifle unwelcoming.”

Her mouth fell open, and a flicker of emotion akin to fear flashed in her eyes. “You pushed me off your porch?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. No. Of course not. All I did was tell you to leave. Forcefully. You backed away from me, and…”

“I fell.”

“Yes.” He was uncomfortably aware that the family lawyer would be hyperventilating by now if he were here to track the conversation. Gareth had pretty much incriminated himself.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It was an accident. And you were breaking the law. So don’t go getting any ideas about draining us dry. We have a legal team that would chew you to pieces.”

“Why do you need a legal team?”

This conversation had gone on long enough. “Go to bed, Gracie. Get some sleep. Maybe when you wake up, all will be clear.”

She hesitated, looking at him with need that went beyond simple survival. He wondered if she understood the feminine invitation she was unwittingly telegraphing. Deliberate or not, every bit of testosterone in him responded with a hell, yeah.

Groaning inwardly, he turned his back on her and left the room.

When Gracie woke up, the sun was high in the sky, the clock said it was noon and nothing was any clearer than it had been the night before. She leaped from the bed and then staggered when the pounding in her skull threatened to send her to her knees.

A hand to the wall and several long breaths finally steadied her. This time, the woman in mirror looked more familiar. She brushed her teeth, put on her clean undies and her not-so-clean clothes and went in search of food. The house was quiet, too quiet. In the kitchen she found a note scrawled in bold masculine handwriting. Plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself. I’m working. Will check on you midafternoon.

She crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash. Working? What did that mean? A sandwich and a banana later, the front doorbell rang. Gracie waited a few seconds to see if Gareth would appear. But when the bell rang a second time, she walked quickly toward the front of the house, grimacing when she saw her reflection in a mirror. She was hardly fit for company.

The woman who stood on the porch was a surprise. She gave Gracie a blinding smile and muscled her way through the door, forcing a befuddled Gracie to step back.

“I’m Annalise,” she said, holding out a hand after she dropped an armload of packages on the nearest chair. “Jacob had your height and weight, so we guessed at sizes. I’ve got all the basics, I hope. Enough to see you through at least a week. After that, we’ll see.”

“Well, I…”

Annalise was already pulling things out of packages. “My favorite boutique in Charlottesville couriered over everything I asked for. The manager there is really sweet.”

Gracie quivered with alarm. She had no clue about her own finances. What if she couldn’t afford all this? And heaven knew how much the delivery charges were. “Um, Annalise…” she said as she tried to slow down the mini tornado. “I really only need one change of clothing. I do appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to, but I can’t stay long. And until I begin to remember things, I don’t know if I can repay you.”

Annalise sat cross-legged on the rug and began removing price tags. “Don’t be silly,” she said happily. “Gareth is paying for all of this. It’s the least he can do after you hurt yourself so badly.”

An arrested look came over her face and she hopped back to her feet. “Speaking of which, Jacob wanted me to take a look at your head. He’s only a phone call away if we need him.”

Before Gracie could move or protest, Annalise was sifting through Gracie’s curls, her fingers delicate as they parted the hair and brushed over the knot near her temple.

“Hmm,” she said. “The swelling’s not terrible, but you’ve got a nasty bruise.” She fluffed Gracie’s curls back into place and returned to her task of sorting through the new clothes. “That small bag over there has antibiotic ointment and more waterproof bandages. Jacob says you can take off the current dressing on your leg after you shower today and replace it.”

“Annalise?”

She looked up with a winsome smile. “What?”

“Who are you?”

The beautiful woman with the waterfall of raven-black hair smacked her head and groaned. “Shoot. I’m always getting ahead of myself. I’m Gareth and Jacob’s cousin, Annalise Wolff. The baby of the crew. Which is no picnic, let me tell you. Especially since I’m the only girl.”

“You live here, too?”

“Well, not yet. But sometime soon. I’m only here for a quick visit with my dad and Uncle Vic. It was a good thing, though. Can you imagine a man trying to supply a woman with a new wardrobe? Lord knows what they would have chosen.”

Gracie bent and picked up an item that still had a price tag attached. “A swimsuit? Really? Not entirely necessary, is it?”

The tall slender woman’s eyes widened. “Gareth hasn’t showed you yet?”

“Showed me what?”

“The indoor pool.”

“Um, no. I haven’t exactly been offered the guided tour. He doesn’t want me here, you know.”

“But you are here,” Annalise said with a grin. “And it’s about time someone bearded the grizzly old bear in his den. Gareth is a wonderful man, but he’s let the past trip him up. His hermit ways aren’t healthy.”

“What about the past?”

Suddenly the other woman looked abashed. “It’s not my place to say. I babble too much. Gareth can tell you what he wants you to know. C’mon,” she said brightly. “Let’s go to your room and try on all this booty.”

Gracie participated more out of curiosity than from any urgent desire to play dress-up. Annalise fascinated her. She could be a runway model or a movie star. Gracie envied her the boundless confidence that radiated from her in almost physical waves.

What was Gracie’s personality like? Here on the mountain, she felt wary, anxious and confused. But amnesia would probably have that effect on anyone. Maybe in real life Gracie was as self-possessed as Annalise. On the other hand, Gracie had a hunch that being wealthy and beautiful was the key. For someone like Annalise, the world was ready for the taking.

Gracie drew the line at modeling the wildly lavish lingerie. Petal-soft silk, handmade lace, confections of mauve, blush-pink and palest cream. It was the stuff of fantasy. But apparently Gracie was fairly modest when it came to exposing herself, even to another female.

At long last, Annalise glanced at her watch and screeched. “Lord have mercy. I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t get crackin’. Daddy always wants me to use the private jet, but it’s so damn pretentious. And do you have any idea how hard it is for a man to see the real you when he finds out about the seven-figure portfolio?”

“I can only imagine.” Gracie’s tone was wry. Annalise’s artless comments weren’t boastful. Her stream of consciousness conversation wasn’t as practiced as that.

At the front door, Gracie put a hand on her benefactor’s slim arm. “Thank you,” she said simply. “I won’t see you again, but I’m very grateful.”

Annalise grabbed her in an enthusiastic embrace and kissed her cheek. “Never say never. Remember… don’t let Gareth bully you. And as for the shopping spree… the pleasure was all mine.”