Читать книгу Man...Mercenary...Monarch - Joan Elliott Pickart - Страница 11

Laura watched John as he jerked his head around to stare at the band, then the bottle of beer in front of him, then at a point somewhere above her head.

He was getting cold feet, she thought, shrugging out of her jacket. John was warring with himself, deciding if he was actually going to keep his half of their agreement.

She could understand his hesitation. It would be very difficult for a man like John to reveal his innermost thoughts.

But he would do it, she just somehow knew that he would, because he was a man of his word.

She felt so connected to John, as though they really had known each other for many years. How strange all of this was. Yet it was wonderful, too.

Yes, John would talk to her, share with her, when he was ready. She would simply wait patiently…wait for John.

A silent minute ticked by. Then two. Three.

John cleared his throat and shifted his gaze slowly to meet Laura’s.

“I grew up in Hope,” he said quietly, “but I never felt as though I belonged here. I left as soon as I was old enough. That’s my fault, the sense of not fitting in, not my family’s. They’re good people.”

Laura nodded, her eyes riveted on John’s.

“My family doesn’t know that I’m back. I checked into a motel because I needed some time alone, to figure out what I’m going to do about…” John stopped speaking and shook his head. “Hell.”

Laura reached across the table and covered one of John’s hands with one of hers as she leaned toward him.

“Going to do about what?” she said. “What’s wrong, John?”

John turned his hand over and grasped Laura’s. Heat shimmered up her arm, across her breasts, then began to swirl throughout her. She could feel a warm flush stain her cheeks, but made no attempt to free her hand from John’s hold.

So strong, she thought, yet so gentle.

“The last time I was home,” John said, looking directly at her again, “I came here, to Jake’s, met up with a woman I knew and we spent the night together. We both understood there were no strings attached. It was just…well, a night.”

“I understand,” Laura said.

“A couple of days ago I received a letter from a friend of that woman,” John continued. “It had taken quite a while for the letter to reach me because I was out of the country. The letter said that the woman I knew had died several months before.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Laura said.

“Yeah, well, there’s more,” John said, his grip on Laura’s hand tightening slightly. “The woman had…she never told me, but…” He shook his head.

“John?” Laura said.

“She had my baby, Laura,” he said, his voice gritty with emotion. “My son. She hadn’t planned on telling me, nor making any demands on me, but then she died.

“Her friend took the baby and started the process of finding me to tell me I had a son, that I needed to be his father because he no longer had a mother. He doesn’t have anyone.”

“Dear heaven,” Laura whispered. “A baby. You have a son who needs you to make a home for him, to raise him and—how old is he now?”

“Eleven months. He’s going to celebrate his first birthday pretty soon. His name is Jeremiah.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No.” John frowned. “I spoke with the woman on the phone and told her I’d pick Jeremiah up tomorrow. I needed some sleep and a plan for—ah hell, Laura, what am I going to do? How can a man like me raise a son?”

Sudden tears stung Laura’s eyes as she saw the raw pain on John’s face, heard it in his voice. She wanted to close the distance between them, hug him, hold him, tell him he wasn’t alone.

“A man like you?” she said, blinking away the unwelcome tears. “You’re saying that in such a derogatory manner, and you shouldn’t. You’re warm and caring. You were the one, the only one, who stepped in and rescued me from that aggressive man.

“You’re holding my hand, John, and you could crush it with very little effort, but I know my hand is safe. I know that I’m safe with you, because your strength is tempered with infinite gentleness.

“How can a man like you raise a son? By just being you, by loving Jeremiah with all your heart. You’re his father, and I think he’s a lucky little boy to have you.”

“Thank you, Laura,” John said. “More than I can even express in words.” He drew a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I guess all I can do is the best I can do. Man, I’ve never even held a baby before, let alone…I suppose there are books I can read about child care or something.”

Laura nodded. “You can use books as a guideline, but don’t expect Jeremiah to do exactly what is described. Babies are people in small bodies. They have personalities, likes, dislikes, just as adults do. You’ll need to follow your own instincts.”

John chuckled, the rumbly, male sound causing a shiver to course through Laura.

“You’re assuming that I have some paternal instincts,” he said, smiling. “If I do, they’re news to me.”

Laura matched his smile. “They’re there. Trust me. No, correct that. Trust and believe in yourself, Daddy.”

John’s smile faded. “Daddy. Father. Whew. I guess it’s really sinking in that I have a son.” He paused. “I wonder if he looks like me? Do year-old babies talk? Walk?” He laughed. “Play poker?”

“Oh, it’s so good to hear you laugh,” Laura said, “see you smile.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for you, Laura. I’m very glad that you got cabin fever and came to Jake’s tonight.”

“So am I,” she said softly.

They smiled, warm smiles, meaningful smiles, smiles that wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

Then the smiles disappeared as they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. The desire within them burned brighter, hotter, consumed them.

And they welcomed it, because it was real and rich, and so very, very right. It belonged to them in their private and special world.

They communicated without words, messages of want and need sent and received with intertwined emotions of peacefulness and excitement.

John slid out of the booth and extended his hand to Laura. She placed her hand in his with no hesitation and moved to stand by his side. He retrieved their jackets, assisted Laura in putting hers on, shrugged into his own, then dropped several bills onto the table.

With his hand resting on Laura’s back, they made their way through the crowd at the bar to emerge into the clear, cold night.

“I walked over from my motel,” John said quietly. “It’s a couple of miles from here.”

“I borrowed a vehicle from where I’m staying,” Laura said. “We can go in that.”

John stepped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Laura.” He looked directly into her eyes, able to see her in the light from the neon sign on the building. “I want you to know that this isn’t just…just a night like I spoke of before.”

“I know that, John,” she said softly. “I don’t quite understand why this is so right, but it is, and I’ll have no regrets about what we’re going to share. I promise you that.”

He nodded, brushed his lips over hers, then tugged his Stetson low on his forehead.

A short time later, John parked the truck Laura had borrowed in front of his room at the motel. He’d left a small lamp on and the room welcomed them with a dim, golden glow.

John closed the door and slipped the chain into place. Laura leaned against the door and he braced his hands on either side of her head.

“I can’t see you after tonight,” he said. “I have to focus on my son, on learning how to become the best father I can be.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding. “It’s better this way, because I’m only here temporarily. This is our night, John. It was fate, our meeting at Jake’s, talking, sharing, feeling as though we’d known each other for a very long time. It’s all very special, rare, and very, very beautiful.”

John nodded, then lowered his head to claim Laura’s mouth in a gentle, fleeting kiss.

Laura kept her arms at her sides as he kissed her again, deeper this time, parting her lips to seek, find, then duel with her tongue in the sweet darkness of her mouth.

Laura’s legs began to tremble and she gripped John’s jacket, holding fast.

The kiss went on and on.

It was magic.

It was a night stolen out of time and reality.

It was clothes seeming to float away by a wish, instead of a touch, as desire exploded within them with hot, licking flames. It was passion soaring to previously unknown, glorious heights.

Cool sheets on the bed greeted their heated bodies and they kissed, caressed, explored, marveling at the wonders discovered.

John supported his weight on one forearm as he skimmed his other hand over Laura’s breasts, then on to splay over her flat stomach.

“You’re beautiful, Laura,” he murmured, close to her lips.

“So are you,” she whispered, her fingertips tracing the taut muscles in his back.

He shifted lower to lave the nipple of one of her breasts with his tongue. Laura sank her hands into his thick hair, pressing his mouth harder onto the soft flesh. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the exquisite sensations rushing through her.

She opened her eyes again, wanting to see John in the glow of the lamp, wanting to memorize every detail of him, cherishing the sight, the sound, the taste and feel of this magnificent man.

Her man, Laura thought dreamily. Hers for one night. They were creating memories together that she would keep forever, tuck away so securely in her heart. In the years yet to come she could reach into the secret cupboard and relive the magic of this night.

“Magic,” she said, not realizing she’d spoken aloud.

“Yes,” John said, raising his head to meet her gaze. “That’s what it is—was from the moment I saw you. I’ve never talked, shared, with anyone the way I have with you, probably never will again. Thank you, Laura, for…for just being you.”

“And I thank you, John, for being you, for chasing away my loneliness, for trusting me with your worries and fears, the very essence of who you are. I’ll never forget you. Never.”

“Yes, you will, and you should.”

“No, I…”

“Shh,” he said, then his mouth melted over hers.

They were no longer in a small, shabby room; they were in a field of wildflowers under a brilliant blue sky and a warming sun. They were in a place meant only for the two of them, where no one else was allowed to go.

Their place. Their world. Their magic.

Their breathing became labored and hearts thundered. Hands were never still and where hands had traveled, lips followed in a heated path.

It was wild, and reckless, and wonderful.

“John,” Laura gasped finally, “please.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Wait. I want to protect you.”

John returned to her as quickly as possible and Laura reached out for him eagerly, his absence having been an eternity.

John moved over her, catching his weight on his arms, then he entered her slowly, filling her, watching her face for any hint of pain.

Laura sighed in pure feminine pleasure, a soft smile forming on her lips. She raised her hips to meet him and the dance began, building in power and force to a pounding rhythm, taking them higher and higher.

Reaching. Glorying in the ecstasy. Anticipating the moment of exquisite release. Giving and receiving in total abandon.

On and on…

“John!”

“Yes!”

Laura clung to his shoulders and he flung his head back, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. They were there, together, and neither wished the moment to end. They hovered, savoring, awed by the splendor.

John collapsed against Laura, his energy spent. He rolled off of her quickly so as not to crush her, then he nestled her close to his side.

Hearts quieted. Bodies cooled. The flames of desire dimmed to simmering embers.

They didn’t speak as the magic demanded silence. Reverently, carefully, memories were hidden away in private chambers of their hearts.

They slept, heads on the same pillow, Laura’s hand encircling a small ring that hung on a chain around John’s neck.

Fingers of sunlight inched beneath the curtains on the window to tiptoe across Laura’s face, waking her. She opened her eyes slowly, then in the next instant sat bolt upright on the bed, her heart racing as she realized she had absolutely no idea where she was.

The cobwebs of sleep disappeared with a blink, to be replaced by vivid images of the previous night…and John.

Laura glanced around the small room, then saw a scrap of paper on one of the bed pillows. She snatched it up and read the message written in a bold, sprawling handwriting.

Laura—

I hope you find your rainbow. You deserve it.

John

Laura sank back against the pillows and reread the note three more times.

John, her mind whispered. He’d remembered what she’d said about wishing to find the rainbow that would bring her the true happiness she was seeking. She had spoken and he had listened, really heard what she had said.

John, her man of the magical night. He was so magnificent, strong yet gentle, so sensitive and caring.

John, who was facing the tremendous challenge of raising a son he hadn’t even known he had. He’d trusted her enough to share his fears with her, his feelings of inadequacy regarding his new, daunting and awe-evoking role.

John. Their lovemaking had been so exquisitely beautiful, it was beyond description. Magic. In the world they’d created together, every touch and kiss had been ecstasy. They had moved as one, a single entity, their dance of love so synchronized and perfect, it was as though they’d been lovers for years, knew every nuance of the other.

“John,” Laura whispered, then sighed.

She had no regrets about her rash actions of last night. None. The only shadow hovering over her was the realization that she would never see John again. She’d known that at the outset, but still…

No, no, she had to be sophisticated and mature about this. Facts were facts. And memories were memories, hers to keep.

“Goodbye, John,” Laura said softly, as she clutched the note. “Thank you.”

She showered and dressed, then after one last look at the shabby little room, she closed the door behind her with a quiet click. She turned away from this magical place, blinked away sudden and unwelcome tears, lifted her chin and prepared to drive back to the ranch.

Alone.

During the fifteen miles she had to cover to reach The Rocking C Ranch, Laura gave herself a continuous, stern lecture.

Before she even entered the house, she decreed, she would have pushed the memories of John to a safe corner of her mind, would not allow him to step through the front door with her, to haunt her with his sensuous presence.

The long hours she spent in that house waiting to fulfill her assignment were difficult enough without aching for the sight, the sound, the taste and touch of a man she would never see again.

“Go away, John,” she said, flapping one hand in the air as the house came into view. “Oh, please, just go away right now.”

The house was a large, one-story traditional ranch style, with five bedrooms and a huge, modern kitchen. The living room that Laura entered boasted an enormous flagstone fireplace on one wall, gleaming hardwood floors with a scattering of Native American area rugs, and oversize dark wood furniture done in varying shades of tweed.

Laura hurried to the bedroom she was using during her stay, not wishing to see Betty, the housekeeper. Betty was a no-nonsense woman in her mid-fifties, who would not hesitate to ask where she had spent the night.

Answering that question, Laura decided as she changed into fresh clothes, could hopefully be avoided if Betty didn’t have a clue that Laura hadn’t been tucked in her own bed.

Laura left her bedroom and peered into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it was empty, then headed for the pot of prepared coffee. She settled at the big oak table with a mug of the steaming brew.

And thought about John.

“Would you stop that?” she said, smacking the top of the table with the palm of one hand. “Just cut it out. Get a grip. Right now.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Laura jerked in her chair as Betty entered the kitchen from the mudroom beyond. She was carrying a basket of eggs and wearing her usual jeans, boots and Western shirt. She was tall, slender and her short gray hair curled around her attractive face.

“Me,” Laura said with a sigh.

Betty laughed. “You’re certainly giving yourself what-for this morning.” She went to the sink and began to rinse off the eggs. “Sleep well?”

“Oh, I…you bet,” Laura said, feeling a warm flush creep onto her cheeks.

“Then why the grumpy mood?” Betty said, glancing over at her, then resuming her chore.

“I’m just dreading facing another long day, I guess,” Laura said. “I’ve only been here alone a short time, but it seems like a year. The thing is, I have no idea how many more days I’ll need to remain. Heaven only knows when John Colton will decide to make a trip home for a visit. I have to sit here and wait until he shows up.”

“Well, there’s worse places to be than on the Colton ranch.” Betty paused and shook her head. “I still find it hard to believe that our John might actually be Prince James Wyndham of Wynborough.

“When the Coltons adopted him as a baby, there wasn’t a clue about his identity. He was just left on the doorstep of The Sunshine Home for Children. John is in for a mighty big shock when he does come home.”

“I should have asked you this before, Betty, but how do you think John will feel about this news?”

“No telling,” Betty said, shutting off the water in the sink. “John is impossible to predict. He’s a Colton, but he never has thought and acted like one.”

“Well, he really isn’t a Colton. He’s a Wyndham.”

“As far as his parents and his brother, Mitch, are concerned, he’s a Colton,” Betty said decisively. “They love him as their own. That will never change, no matter what new fancy name and title John has. A prince. Good gracious, wonders never cease.”

“A prince who was kidnapped as an infant and believed to be dead all these years,” Laura said. “And I’m the one who has been assigned the nifty task of explaining his true identity to him. I hope he doesn’t get into a kill-the-messenger mode.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Betty said with a burst of laughter.

“Thanks a bunch,” Laura said, smiling.

“Well, I’m off to The Triple Bar,” Betty said, placing the eggs in the refrigerator. She removed a covered dish and bumped the refrigerator door closed with her hip. “Jolene is laid up with a broken ankle, and I’m taking a casserole over for their supper. I’ll be gone the better part of the day, I imagine, because Jolene loves to chatter.”

“It’s nice of you to keep her company, and I’m sure her family will appreciate having one of your delicious casseroles for their supper.”

“Well, I’ll see you later. Oh, and, Laura? The next time you stay out all night, turn off your bedroom light before you leave, would you? No sense in running up the electric bill for no reason.”

“Oh, good grief.” Laura plunked one elbow on the table and rested her forehead in her hand. “How embarrassing. How mortifying. How…”

“Normal,” Betty finished for her. “There’s no shame in being a healthy young woman with wants and needs. I just couldn’t resist taking a poke at you, but I’m certainly not passing judgment. In fact, I’m more inclined to say good for you. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“’Bye,” Laura mumbled.

A heavy silence fell over the room and Laura drained her coffee mug quickly, wishing to escape from the sudden chill of loneliness that dropped over her like a dark cloud.

She spent the next hour writing breezy letters to her parents, her sister, Linda, and her best friend since childhood, Olivia, who was now a busy mother of four back in Michigan.

In none of the letters was there one word about Laura’s magical night with John.

No, she thought, placing the stamp on the third envelope. Those memories were hers alone. She’d keep them tucked safely in her heart for all time.

Maybe when she was old and gray, she’d sit in a rocking chair and tell Olivia and Linda about the magnificent man who had touched her life so briefly, but so deeply.

But not now. No, not now.

Laura wandered up to the main road fronting the ranch and put the letters in the mailbox to be picked up by the rural delivery man. Thunder rumbled in the distance and dark clouds edged the horizon.

Back in the house, she switched her cotton blouse for a red sweater, which she wore over gray corduroy slacks, then she made a fire in the hearth in the living room.

Settling into one of the big, comfortable chairs by the fireplace, she actually managed to become engrossed in the mystery novel she was reading.

An hour later, a sharp knock sounded at the front door and Laura jerked at the sudden noise.

She hadn’t heard a vehicle approach the house, she thought, settling the book on the table next to the chair. Maybe one of the ranch hands was looking for Betty.

She got to her feet.

But the men used the mudroom door, she remembered, as she crossed the room. Maybe she’d been concentrating so much on her book that she hadn’t heard a knock on the rear door. And the thunder was still rumbling noisily so…well, whatever.

Laura opened the door with a pleasant expression on her face.

Then she stopped breathing as a gasp caught in her throat.

Standing before her, with a blanket-covered bundle on his shoulder, was John.

John, her mind hammered in disbelief. Her man of the magical night. Magnificent, tall, powerful, sensitive, compelling John was staring right at her with a shocked expression on his face.

Dear heaven, how had he found her? What was he doing here?