There were, in marriage, moments of sheer delight, and in the brief time Ian was home, he came to discover them.
Time was at a premium.
Cimarron was not just a plantation, but a vast agricultural enterprise, and when Ian was home, he played his part in running it. One day Cimarron would be his, and he would be responsible for all the lives dependent upon it. Though cotton was king, the cattle raised at Cimarron were also important, and becoming more so. Central Florida plantations and farms were becoming immensely valuable in production, with Florida cattle feeding populations throughout the country.
That afternoon, Alaina was not deserted while he ran accounts and discussed business decisions with his father and brother. James’s eldest daughter Jennifer—six years Ian’s senior and always calm, poised, and in control of any situation, remained at Cimarron with her husband Lawrence, and their baby, Anthony. At the death of her mother, Jennifer had lived at Cimarron until James had remarried, and so Jen was quite comfortable with the house, and well versed in its functions. Jen and Lawrence planned to travel back south with Teddy McMann and Jerome at the week’s end.
Tia was still home on a holiday as well, and among them they kept Alaina busy exploring the house and grounds.
And Ian began to damn himself for his promise to Teddy. Logically, it was probably the most reasonable solution for the moment. He didn’t know how long he’d be required to stay in Washington; he’d most probably be sent back soon, and he would be sent to the far south for more expeditions into the Everglades—which would put him closer to Alaina there.
As dusk came, Jarrett reminded him that he was due to leave in the morning. “It’s late; spend some time with your wife.”
He found Alaina playing with two-year-old Anthony along with Jen and Tia. Alaina didn’t see him as he arrived at the upstairs nursery where so many McKenzies had played before. She was laughing, rolling on the floor with Anthony and Jen, and he felt again the strange stirrings he had felt when he had first seen her fencing on the lawn. Her laughter was like music; her smile was captivating. The gold light in her eyes was purely seductive.
He cleared his throat. She jumped swiftly to her feet, almost as if she were alarmed by his presence. He arched a brow, reaching out a hand to her. “Come for a ride with me?”
“I was occupying the baby. Jen planned on packing a few things for her trip home.”
“I’m fine,” Jen said.
“And I’m here,” Tia added.
“Come ride,” Ian insisted.
“I’ll… just change,” Alaina said.
She did so quickly, joining him at the stables in a matter of minutes. He helped her mount, then leaped up on Pye. He kneed his horse quickly to a gallop, knowing that Alaina could follow easily—and perhaps pass him if she chose.
He showed her the way the McKenzies had divided their property, so much land given over to cattle and livestock, so much given over to the growing of cotton, and a few acres where they were now growing sugar cane. He loved Cimarron: the house, the land, the look of it, the feel of it, the life that was lived there. Though he didn’t betray his emotions, he remained angry about her statements on the night of their marriage—that she hated Cimarron and detested his room.
But as dusk began to turn to dark, the wildness of their ride seemed to put her more at ease with him. She was flushed and happy, and complimentary of all that she saw. Watching her, Ian realized that she was glad to be out; Alaina loved to ride. She loved the wind, she loved to run, to feel the earth. He already knew she loved to swim. When she caught him staring at her, her coloring deepened.
“You’re glad to be out?” he asked.
“I … I must admit…” she shrugged. She looked every inch the young lady in an emerald-green riding habit that perfectly highlighted her coloring. Her golden hair was swept up, delicate tendrils just escaping the blond coils beneath her plumed hat. “I admit that growing up far from civilization makes life quite different. Your family has been very kind. But I do usually ride every day. And the beach at sunset is always so enticing. … It’s fun to run on the sand and play tag with the tide.”
“You miss your home?”
“Everyone misses home—don’t they?” she asked him, and there was a soft wistful sound to her voice.
“When I’m away long enough, I miss it terribly,” Ian said.
“But that’s the way of the military, isn’t it? They send you where they need you?”
He nodded. “Luckily, I’ve been needed near home often enough lately.” He watched her as she sat her horse, so elegant in her perfectly tailored riding habit, the wistful expression still playing upon her perfect features. “Let’s head back, shall we?” he suggested.
Alaina nodded, and followed his lead when he turned Pye about to race across the fields. She was riding one of his mother’s Arabian mixes, a fast little filly named Sable. Alaina rode neck and neck with him, delighting in the rapid pace he set. She was smiling happily when they reached the stables. Her hair had come free from its neatly pinned sweep, however, and tumbled down her back in a riot of gold beneath her plumed hat.
He helped her from Sable, then said, “Wait here a minute.”
Ian left the stables and hurried to the house. He found his brother and Jerome intently involved in a game of chess. Julian informed him that both their parents and the rest of the family had left to have dinner with their nearest neighbor, Robert Trent, and his family.
“Do you need something?” Julian asked.
“Yes, I need both of you to stay out of the spring pool for the next few hours,” Ian told them. “No jumping out from behind rocks.”
“Now, Ian, you know damned well we were accidentally caught there.”
“Yes, I do know. But I’d appreciate some privacy now.”
Jerome, staring at the chessboard, kept his head low and smiled. “I’m about to humiliate your brother by soundly thrashing him. Naturally, he’s going to feel compelled to challenge me again and again until he can win a game himself. We’ll do our best to see to it that you have absolute privacy.”
“Interesting, though, don’t you think?” Julian inquired, studying Jerome’s last move gravely. He glanced up at Ian then. “You spent your first day home by the pool in order to spend your last evening there as well.”
“Thank you, Julian, for your deep concern regarding my whereabouts. Jerome, thrash him slowly, will you?”
The two kept their attention upon the chessboard as Ian left them. He found Alaina standing outside the stables where he had left her, and slipped an arm about her waist. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
When they reached the pool, she kept her distance from him, standing perfectly still as he sat upon the log to pull off his boots and socks.
“What are you doing?” she asked him uneasily.
“Going swimming. We can’t quite chase the tide here, but then, there’s no salt. Easier on the eyes.”
“You think—oh, you must be teasing, you wretch!” she exclaimed. “After all the trouble caused by this horrible pool—”
“The pool, my love, did not cause the trouble. People cause trouble. But since we’re already in such trouble, doesn’t it seem ridiculous to waste the pool?”
She shook her head. “Someone might come.”
“No one will come.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen to it.”
“Oh! How reassuring! You’ve seen to it that people know you intend to…”
He arched a brow. “Go swimming?”
She spun around, certain he was making fun of her. He leaped off the log, coming swiftly behind her and sweeping her up into his arms.
“Ian—” she protested, hands against his chest.
“You miss the water; you said so. You can go in with your clothes on—or off.”
“Ian—”
“I warn you that this is my last night at my home, and I’ll not be denied.”
She trembled suddenly, a strange expression filtering through her eyes. “Clothes… off,” she whispered after a moment.
He arched a brow, but set her down, working upon the intricate little buttons of her bodice. She was very still, accepting his assistance, until all of her clothing lay pooled at her feet.
The sun was setting. Its beautiful colors, bursting out over the horizon, fell upon her naked length in a dazzling glow. The sensual perfection of her slim young body assailed his senses anew, and perhaps something predatory ignited within his eyes, for she suddenly took flight, running from him to dive into the pool.
She was an incredible swimmer. She disappeared into the depths while he shed the last of his own attire and came diving in after her. She was fast; it took all his effort to catch her, and she was supple and sure, evading his reach several times before he took firm hold of her at last, fingers threading into her hair, mouth forming firmly over hers as his kick jackknifed them to the surface. The bare brush of her thighs and breasts against his flesh was so keen it was almost unbearable; he groaned deep in his throat while his tongue hungrily savaged the honeyed sweetness of her mouth, and he damned himself a thousand times over for the promise he had made Teddy.
His lips parted from hers at last. His fingers moved down the length of her spine, palms molding over her buttocks to press her ever closer to his growing erection.
“I thought—I thought we came to swim.”
“We swam.”
“It’s your last night in your home,” she murmured.
“It is,” he said, but eased away a breath to determine just where she was attempting to go with her conversation.
“Ian, we need to talk.”
“About?”
Treading water, she inhaled, then spoke quickly. “Ian, if you are going to be moving about, I truly beg your indulgence in this: Let me stay with my father. I’m all that he has. He needs me.”
He stared at her, glad that the setting sun, now crimson, was in her eyes and not his own. He remembered vaguely then that Teddy had said he wouldn’t tell Alaina that Ian had agreed she should return home. Ian was to have told her himself.
He’d never done so.
Interesting.
“Ah… you want to go with Teddy—because you don’t want to be left at so horrible a place as Cimarron?”
She flushed, but held her ground “I don’t hate Cimarron.”
“You don’t?” he demanded.
His gaze upon her was so demanding that she allowed her lashes to fall “I was angry when I said that. I don’t hate your home, and your parents are charming.”
“As you can be, when you want something,” he murmured He could see her temper stirring in the flash of her eyes, but she controlled it, and it was quite intriguing to watch the thought patterns race through her features. She hated the reality of it, but she had acquired a husband whom everyone seemed to consider had the right to dictate her future and whereabouts.
She lowered her eyes again. The water rippled cool around them in the pool.
“And you want this very badly,” he murmured dryly.
Her eyes flew up to his, flashing gold. “Teddy is all alone without me,” she said.
He gave her a sharp look. Teddy wasn’t all alone.
“All right, not exactly alone; he has his fieldworkers, of course, and we have the household servants, but… he needs me.”
Her hair was slicked back from her lovely face; her eyes were liquid gold. He studied the classic elegance of her features and felt his gaze sweep lower then, fixing upon the rise of her breasts beneath the water. Her nipples were a soft rose, hardened now by the coolness of the water to fascinating little peaks.
“What if I needed you?” he asked huskily.
“You don’t need me. You don’t even particularly want me.”
His eyes flashed and it seemed that every inch of her skin from head to toe flushed crimson. “I definitely protest that statement,” he told her.
She shook her head impatiently. “You wanted another woman; you got me. Since so many marriages are arranged, as you’ve informed me, I imagine that you most probably consider me quite interchangeable with any young woman with whom you might have found yourself bound; Except that, of course, you’re Ian McKenzie, and nothing is usually arranged for you that you don’t want. In this case, your sense of duty dictated your desires.”
“Is that what you think?” he asked her, reaching out for her again, suddenly quite passionate. “Madam, you’re wrong. You’re not interchangeable in any way. And I’m not about to leave here worried sick about the affairs of state—and the affairs of my wife as well.”
She gasped, startled by his sudden vehemence. “Ian, you know that I—”
“Were you in love with O’Neill?”
“No!” she gasped. Then, “Yes!” She shook her head unhappily. “I—I had thought so, but he behaved so despicably. Ian, I swear to you, before God, whatever I felt for Peter died the minute his engagement was announced. I never intended to meet him.” She clutched his hand suddenly, pleading. “Ian, please, let me have this favor, and I will swear my loyalty on pain of death.” Anger suddenly burned in her eyes. “Besides, you’re going back to that woman you intended to marry. At the very least, you can let me stay with so innocent a man as my own father! Oh, this is so ridiculously unfair!”
“Indeed, but the way of the world, I’m afraid,” he reminded her pleasantly.
“Ian, please, don’t torment me now. Answer me.”
“Let you return to the untamed wilderness…”
“Your uncle has gone to Charleston, but Jerome will be very close. And the Malloys, your cousin Jennifer, and her husband are next door to my home, and…” She paused, then added with a strange bitterness, “They are all my friends, but they are your blood, so I’m quite sure that if I were to so much as sneeze in the wrong direction, you’d know about it instantly.” “Your father is an honorable man.” “Then what is the difficulty?”
He smiled. “I might have intended for you to travel with me. I’ve a wife now, and I’ve so little to remember you by.”
She flushed again and murmured, “I’m in the pool, aren’t I?”
“It’s a start.”
She exhaled on a gasp of impatience and started to swim past him. He caught hold of her waist, drawing her to him, her back against his chest and hips, her head beneath his chin. “I don’t know what you want!” she whispered fervently. “We spent all of the nights—I never—I never once offered the least resistance—”
He laughed softly, intoxicated by her nearness again in the coolness of the pool, feeling the heat of her body against him. “If I remember rightly, there might have been just a hint of resistance there at first. But still… they were good nights.
I just want… more.”
“More?”
“Mmm. I want to go away feeling… secure. Feeling that my wife couldn’t possibly be swayed by an ex-lover—or any other man—since she is so enraptured by all that she has in me.” “Ian, you’re cruel”
“My love, I don’t mean to be. And you don’t sound enraptured.”
“But I am!” she protested “Really.” “Really.” He eased his hold upon her, turning her within the embrace of his arms. He caught her hand, powerful legs still knifing through the water to keep them afloat. He drew her palms and fingers down the length of his chest, bringing her fingers in a curl around the throbbing length of his erection. Her initial gasp— as if she had been handed something so loathsome as a poisonous snake—was not exactly an “enraptured” sound. But she quickly recovered. Her gold eyes met his briefly, incredibly wide with amazement and surprise, then she buried her head against his shoulder, trembling, and her body pressed to his as she…
Experimented.
Her hand rubbed over the length of him in an instinctive stroke. Her fingers feathered his flesh within the water. He groaned deeply, gutturally, as she reached lower, cupping and caressing his testicles, delicately hesitant, more and more surely….
He forgot to tread water. They pitched downward. He caught her shoulders, drawing them both back up. A few hard kicks brought them to the embankment, and he swiftly had her upon her back. His kiss was nearly violent as his mouth found hers; his touch plundered the dips and curves of her body, savoring the heat of her flesh beneath the chill of the water droplets upon her. He began to kiss, caress… lick them from her… her breasts, the hollows at her hips, her thighs, between them. …
The harsh intake of her breath brought him over her again. Her eyes met his, dazed, golden, and somehow still challenging. Her fingers stroked his hair; her lips met and melded with his in a fiery explosion in which she gave all the tempest she received. Her fingers arched into his shoulders, stroked his back, his buttocks, his chest. Her nails raked, then her hand closed over him again as the searing sweet heat of her kisses rained upon his chest….
An agony of desire shot through him; he pressed her back, surged into her. The sun falling from the sky became a blood-red passion that burned into the landscape, and into their flesh. Beneath him, she met the tempest of his rhythm, rode the lightning of his hunger.
The sun fell into the earth with a last burst of fiercely glowing rays. He felt a trembling within her, sweetly volatile, and cradled her hard against him, easing his weight from her, as the darkness came and the night blanketed over them. She lay very still against him, the heat of their bodies still warming them. He lay there, surprised by the tenderness he felt toward her as she lay so trust- ingly against him. He smoothed back her damp hair in a gentle, lulling motion, watching the night take over the sky.
Apparently, his motion was indeed lulling, he thought moments later, with a certain wry amusement.
He had lulled her right to sleep.
His last night…
It didn’t matter. He was content, for the moment, to feel her length against his. Her hair, drying, blew softly against his chest in delicate tendrils.
He did his best to let her lie against him as comfortably as possible, trying not to disturb her. His arms gently encircled her.
The botanist’s wild, wicked… innocent daughter.
His wife.
Alaina opened her eyes and realized that it was night—and that she was sprawled atop her husband.
He wasn’t sleeping, she realized, but gazing into the night. She was suddenly grateful for the shadows that lay upon them.
Yet the night, in darkness, began to grow chill. Where his body covered hers, Alaina remained warm. Where it did not, she was cold. She still felt shaken, trembling inside. It was so frightening to feel such a violent, desperate sensation. She remained amazed by the way he could make her feel, by the strength of emotions awakened in her through this intimacy that still seemed so new, so strange. Each time he made love to her, she thought at first that he demanded what she didn’t want to give, but she was wrong. Somewhere in the midst of it, things had changed. Now it seemed that the sound of his voice could stir a warmth within her, the lightest brush of his fingers could ignite a burning, and when he pressed her down against the earth, she was desperately willing to feel the heat of his desire forever. She didn’t like the way she felt herself buffeted along. She didn’t want to want him; she certainly didn’t want to need him. Marriage had given her his name and salvaged her reputation; it had given her an amazing respectability. It had put her beneath his power in a way, forced this intimacy upon them both. But what it hadn’t given her was his…
Love. She shivered and sat up. “Ian—”
“We’ll go back to the house,” he said, rising with a swift, graceful speed that suddenly made her cold again. He had learned a great deal from his uncle’s people in the Everglades. He could move in absolute silence, with a staggering agility. She knew firsthand that his ability with a sword was second to none.
He would certainly be a deadly enemy.
She wasn’t his enemy, she told herself. She was his wife.
He’d planned on marrying elsewhere. Maybe that made her more of an enemy than she could begin to realize.
He returned with her clothing to where she had curled to a sitting position on the embankment. “You’re cold. We’ll hurry to the house.”
She stood, slipping into her chemise, then letting him tie her into her corset. Her emerald-green riding habit was slipped over her head, and she suddenly couldn’t help but smile.
“And what’s that for?” he queried.
“For once, McKenzie, I feel the upper hand. I’m dressed—and you’re not.”
He arched a brow, grinning. “And you think that gives you an advantage?”
“It could.”
“Under what circumstances?”
He stared at her with such arrogant, cocky male assurance that she couldn’t possibly ignore such a challenge. “Under such circumstances that you should find yourself walking up to Cimarron… bare-ass!” she informed him gravely.
“What?” he demanded, his head inclining with curiosity and his tone deep with a warning note.
She laughed and sped by him, sweeping up his clothing, and turning to flee.
She could run.
With shoes, without shoes.
She was her father’s daughter. She had learned to scamper over mangrove roots and wet sand, through shallow waters and thick brush and foliage. She was delighted to realize at first that she had left him in her dust.
“Alaina McMann, get back here with my things!” he called in warning.
She kept running, musing about the possibility of returning his clothing—once she had come to the end of the trail that broke out onto the lawn, of course. Then it occurred to her that he had called her “McMann.” And just as that thought raced through her mind, she felt a breath of air close behind her.
And she realized, as well, that she knew her own skills, and she had even reminded herself of his. He was as fast as a wildcat, as sleek, sure, and well muscled. The end of the trail was in sight. She spun to see that he was indeed right behind her. “My God, you’d better dress!” she cried out, throwing the bundle of his clothing behind her.
It didn’t cause him to waver in the least. He seemed to fly after her. She was suddenly swept from her feet and brought down beneath him, pinned to the earth, gasping. His dark eyes were above hers, warily assessing, but a smile curved his mouth and he was both panting and laughing. She slowly smiled as well, wishing then that he was dressed and that she hadn’t stolen his clothing.
“I very nearly bested you—and left you in a most difficult situation,” she informed him primly.
“Very nearly—but not quite. And, my lovely wife, take heed. You’ll never best me. I simply won’t allow it.”
“Oh?” she inquired sweetly.
The way he was pressed against her, she could feel every nuance of change within his body. The warmth, the growth….
She grew breathless herself.
“You’re supposed to be charming tonight,” he reminded her softly. “Bending me, forming me, manipulating me to your will. So far, you’ve been doing excellently, but since it is growing so cool, it would be nice to be bent, formed, and manipulated in front of a fire with sweet warm wine, wouldn’t you say?”
Looking into the cobalt glitter of his eyes, she nodded. “Wine is always good,” she murmured.
He gave her a bemused look. “To smooth the rough edges of life?” he inquired somewhat hoarsely.
She shook her head. “Because sometimes I still feel so awkward.”
He smiled a deep, gentle smile. And she thought that when he smiled so, there could not possibly be a more striking man in all the world, with features both so ruggedly hewn and yet so handsome. He rose, and she felt a thudding within her heart, because he was so striking, so tall, hard-muscled yet sinewy, sun-bronzed so that muscle and sinew rippled in gold reflections beneath the moon with every movement he made.
He reached down a hand, helping her up, then turned away, gathered his scattered clothing, and dressed quickly.
They returned, unseen and unaccosted, to the house. In his room, he dragged the blankets before the fire, poured them each brandy, then slowly and meticulously undressed her again before drawing her against him. He seemed to be in no great hurry now. The fire crackled, the brandy seemed warm and delicious.
And it was good to lie against him.
“Don’t fall asleep again on me,” he whispered softly.
“Would it matter?” she asked.
He reflected on the question a minute. “No,” he told her.
He eased her to the floor then and kissed her. Softly, deeply, hungrily, teasingly. His lips just brushed her flesh. His hands moved over her body before the fire, and he seemed fascinated just to touch her. The gold and crimson flames of the fire seemed to leap and dance, touching her, warming her, bringing a buildup of heat and sensation that quickly set something ablaze within her. She could not lie still, but reached for him, seeking his lips when he teased, trying to slow his hand when his touch became invasively intimate. Her breath grew ragged. She was entwined with him, careless where the blanket lay. Eager for his kiss, eager to touch him in turn, eager to fondle and stroke…
As he had taught her today.
She touched him, seeking his mouth passionately as she did so. The brandy burned away her inhibitions. Her body arched to his, her breasts rubbed against his chest. Her lips broke from his and she tasted his throat, his chest, played the tip of her tongue upon him, moving against him all the while. Kissing, caressing.
She found herself quite suddenly lifted, staring down at him, and slowly, slowly being lowered…
Impaled. His eyes were on hers, narrowed, cobalt fire. The sensation, so slow, was excruciating. She cried out, her head falling back. He drew her more slowly still, down, down until she sheathed him completely….
Later, spent, she lay at his side and shivered as the fire of energy that had burst between them ebbed and she was cold. This time, he simply wrapped her in his arms and carried her to his bed.
She curled against him, and he held her. Perhaps she dozed; she wasn’t sure. She slowly became aware of a deliciously wicked sensation simmering within her… and the stroke of his kiss moving down the length of her spine.
They made love again.
Sometimes she thought she dreamed his touch, because each time she closed her eyes, she opened them to a new seduction.
The fire burned to embers.
The moon waned in the sky; the sun began to rise.
She awoke again—chilled.
He wasn’t in the bed, he wasn’t in the room. She leaped up, shivering.
The fire had died completely. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise high.
Alaina dove into a wardrobe and quickly threw on a chemise and dress. She started to run out of the room, then paused long enough to stand before the dressing table and smooth down the wild tangle of her hair.
She rushed to the hallway and down the stairs. The house was quiet. She heard a noise from the dining room and hurried there, only to discover her father contentedly reading his paper and dining on pancakes.
“Good morning, daughter!”
“Father. Good morning. You’re… alone.”
“It’s a busy household. The McKenzies are all up and about, and you’d best get moving yourself, my dear. Jerome is escorting our little party, and he’s anxious to get a move on.”
“Our little party?”
“Home!” he said happily.
“Ian… is gone?”
“Well, of course he’s gone. You knew he had to report back to duty.”
“Yes, but…”
Her father was looking at her with concern.
She floundered. “I—I hadn’t imagined that he’d leave so early. He didn’t wake me.”
“Ah, well, maybe he didn’t wish to disturb you, since he knew that we wouldn’t be leaving so early. I assume you said your good-byes last night.”
“Mmm.” She realized then that her father had known Ian had had no intention of having her come with him— nor had he intended to force her to remain at Cimarron. The decision had been made long before last night. Ian had simply been determined to torment her.
So much for his murmured words that he might need her! He had tricked her, used her, and the worst of it…
The worst of it, she thought miserably, was that she had spent the night ecstatically happy, glad to be tricked, used, and…
And falling in love with her husband.
“Are you ready to go, my dear?”
She nodded. “Yes, Father. Thirty minutes, no more,” she said flatly. She turned away from the dining room, fleeing back up the stairs.
To his room.
She had thought that she wanted to leave. That she wanted nothing more than to be back home. But here…
The indention of his head remained upon his pillow, the scent of him imbued the sheets. The wardrobe was filled with his clothing, the desk held his papers, mementos, and other belongings.
He’d gone away without even waking her to say goodbye. Marriage had apparently been fun while convenient, but now he was back to a different life.
And back to the woman he had intended to marry?
Alaina held her breath for a moment’s misery. Peter O’Neill had told her that no respectable man would marry her. If nothing else, she’d certainly had a subtle revenge upon Peter. Ian McKenzie had married her. She couldn’t allow herself to wonder just what it meant to him.
She closed her eyes tightly and exhaled.
She needed to pack. And quickly.
She was going home.