There were tears in her eyes. He saw them, even though she was careful to keep from looking him in the eye as she finished dressing in the black jeans and black shirt. She looked like the dark angel she was, flitting about the room to hide the trembling of her lips, her hands.
He sat on the edge of the bed watching her, the torque clenched in his hand, hidden by the blanket at his side.
“The cab will be here soon.” She lowered her head again as she faced him. “I’ll miss you, Jack.”
The words tore through his chest.
Fuck. Fuck. What had she done to him? Letting a woman go, no matter how hot and sweet her pussy was, had never hurt.
He rose to his feet, stepping before her and taking her hands. Slowly he placed her precious torque across them, watching the dull gleam of the gold as she held it.
Her gaze flew to his.
“I would have brought it back to you,” he told her then. He had denied it at the time, but he had known he was only buying the damned thing because of her.
He had wanted to please her. To bring a smile, some glimmer of joy to her face. Instead, a tear slipped down her cheek as a bitter smile crossed her lips.
She lifted her hands, spreading open the neckband until she clasped it around his neck, allowing the wolves’ heads to lay at the center of his collarbone.
The weight of it was odd, the heat from it warming his flesh.
“It’s yours,” she whispered then. “Not only fairly bought, but fairly earned. Remember me, Jack,” she repeated his words from the night before. “Just as I’ll always remember you.”
He stood still, frowning down at her as she placed a quick, tearful kiss on his lips before rushing from the room.
He could feel himself fighting for breath, feel the urge to go after her, sling her over his shoulder and force her to stay. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Force would never work with his proud Irish lass. But what would?
“Yur heart.” The words she had spoken in a dream haunted him now. “Only yur heart can save any of us. The one thing ye do not possess, my fine English warrior… Love.”
Love?
Love did not exist. Not for him. Not in this world. He had admitted it to himself years before. No matter how much he had longed to find that perfect woman and make a home in the land he loved, he had been unable to. He couldn’t feel. Not that intense overriding emotion he heard love was.
He had given up.
He had traveled the world more than once, searching for priceless treasure, for that one great adventure, but the search had begun with the search for love.
He sat back down on the bed, feeling the torque like a weight of incrimination.
At twenty-two he had realized what he searched for didn’t exist in Madison, or the small towns that surrounded it. It wasn’t in Dallas, or in Fort Worth. It hadn’t been found in New Orleans, Fort Smith, or any of the other cities he had traveled and worked his way through.
Eventually, he had stopped looking for elusive emotion and concentrated instead on profit. On prosperity. On making the land he loved something he could find pride in, something worth fighting for.
The emptiness of the house mocked him now.
Outside he heard the cab pull into the drive. Less than a minute later it left. And he was alone.
Alone in the house he had built from the money he had made as he traveled the world conquering adventure. And losing himself.
“Fuck!” He rose to his feet, pacing to the window to stare into the dry heat of another Texas morning.
Damn, he loved it here. This was home, but honest to God, the only time he had found peace here, felt fulfilled, were the hours Angel had filled it with her presence. Just as she had her father’s estate.
Her laughter. Her irate voice. Her soft sighs.
She haunted him, and she was no more than a few miles from the driveway he was certain.
He lifted his hand, releasing the torque from his neck before staring at it, holding it in the sunlight, staring down at it with a frown.
He hadn’t even wanted the damned thing, so why had he really bought it?
Because she claimed it.
It was the one thing he could possess that would anchor her to him. It was the only thing she truly loved, her father had claimed.
In that moment, he realized that he had wanted it. From the moment he saw it, held it, it had been familiar, felt comfortable in his grip. Just as it felt comfortable around his neck.
He clasped it around his neck once again, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the vivid blue of the sky.
He told her she wasn’t leaving him, and by God, he meant it.
He showered, dressed quickly, then walked to the dresser, opening the middle drawer. Staring at the assortment of adult articles there, he decided quickly which ones to take along.
Handcuffs were a must. The black silk kerchief. Couldn’t have her screaming too hard at a hotel, someone might call the sheriff. A few toys. Definitely the small tube of lubrication, just in case he decided to get adventurous.
He threw them all into a small bag, pulled his boots on, grabbed his keys and headed for the front door. It was time to bring his woman home.
Angel held back her tears as she rode into town. She kept her head turned away from the rearview mirror. She didn’t want the cabbie to see the tears swimming in her eyes, or the pain that raged through her.
Walking away from Jack was the hardest thing she had ever done. Watching the Texas landscape pass by, the flat valley filled with grass, the rolling hills beyond thick with trees and a hardy wildness that called to something in the very depths of her soul.
She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, if only for the few weeks he had suggested. But if it hurt this horribly now, how much more would it hurt weeks, or even days from now? It would destroy her.
She closed her eyes and let the image of him form in her mind. His crooked smile. His brilliant blue eyes. His broad, calloused hands. Every inch of his body was adored by her inner vision as she silently forced herself to say goodbye.
The old writings that had passed through the ages with the torque, told of its first owner. A proud English warrior who had wed the daughter of the fallen Celtic landowner so many centuries before. The MacTaidhg family lands had fallen beneath the sword of the one called the Hewn Wolf. A blond-haired warrior who had found favor with the English King and given the Irish lands and the order to conquer the wild hearts that fought against the crown so fiercely.
He had moved to the very heart of the land, wedding the granddaughter of its hidden priest, and protecting the secret that would have seen her beheaded. It was said he was a scourge of the people, until she tamed him. That she had bewitched the wolf and brought him to her feet. Though the tales Angel’s mother had told hinted that both warrior and proud Irish lass bowed to each other.
The torque will bring the warrior destined to tame your wild heart, Angel,her mother had told her countless times. Before Megan Manning had died, she had spoken often to her daughter about the legends. Those that assured love and happiness for the female ancestors of that first blessed marriage. As long as the ancient neckband stayed within the family it had been given to, then its power would remain true.
And now it was gone. Sold by her father to the man who had stolen Angel’s heart and would be lost to her forever.
She would begin the legacy of discontent now, rather than one of happiness.
She blinked back her tears, raised her chin and stared into the hazy reflection the window provided. She looked as broken as she felt. And that just wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t give others the knowledge of her pain, for surely if she did, news of it would reach Jack. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t love her, and she wanted no guilt to be heaped on him. Loving him had been her choice.
“Here we are.” The cabbie stopped in front of the small hotel in the center of town. The three-story building had all the quaint charm of the west on the outside, though the inside was fully modern.
“Thank you.” She pulled several bills from the pocket of her jeans as she stepped from the cab.
“Thank you, ma’am. I hope your stay at the J.R. Ranch was a good one. Ole Jack’s not home often, so not many get to stay in that nice new house he built a few years ago.”
“It’s a beautiful house.” She fought the burning tears behind her eyes. “Thank you again. Good day, sir.”
She moved away from him quickly, heading inside the hotel and to her room. The dark wood lobby was decorated in the style of the old west. Heavy brocades and large pieces of furniture.
She passed through it, for once taking no time to admire the unique decorations. Her room was on the third floor, and if she hurried, she would have time to shower and pack before heading to the airport and the late flight she had booked back to Ireland.
Entering the elevator, she moved to the back corner, wrapping her arms around her as she lowered her head to stare at the rust brown carpeting beneath her feet.
She missed him.
She ached for him.
Leaving him was ripping her soul apart…
* * * * *
Hotel security in Madison, Texas could really suck. Jack slid the stolen key card through its computerized pad, waited for the green light then eased it slowly open. Few people thought to use the metal latch on the other side to prevent access. He wondered if Angel had been diligent enough to use hers.
Nope. The door eased fully open, not even a squeak of the hinges to give away his presence.
The bathroom door at the side of the entrance was closed, the sound of the shower running assuring him that Angel was suitably busy. A slow, wicked grin crossed his lips as he closed the door behind him, sliding the latch over onto its metal peg to assure privacy. He didn’t want one of the housekeepers coming in at the wrong time in the morning.
Moving further into the room, he set the duffel bag on the bed, quickly opened it and began preparations for Angel’s final fall. She might think she was leaving him, but he was going to show her differently.
Soft, padded cuffs attached to long chains came first. Looping the ends of the small chains to the bed legs, he clipped them in place before laying the padded cuffs on the pillows. Next were the ankle cuffs, which he arranged at the lower corners after securing them.
The tube of lubrication was laid on the table along with nipple clips, a dildo and a butt plug. Finally, he undressed, folding his clothing neatly before sliding them into one of the empty drawers of the dresser by the bed. He was going to play, and Angel was going to be his personal little toy in the games he had planned.
The shower shut off.
Smiling in anticipation, Jack moved to hide along the wall, waiting until she walked through the short hallway.
It didn’t take long. A few short minutes later, he heard the bathroom door open and watched as her shadow neared. Emotions swamped him in those fragile seconds. Possessiveness, love, love unlike anything he could have imagined, and tenderness.
She stepped past him.
Moving quickly he came behind her, his arms sweeping around her, pulling her around, giving her only a second to glimpse his face before his lips lowered to hers. But he had glimpsed hers as well. Her eyes reddened, tear-drenched, her cheeks pale, her expression miserable.
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips as her lips opened to cry out. “It’s okay, baby. It’s all okay now…”
One hand cupped her cheek as his chest clenched at the dampness he felt there. He had made her cry. Pain streaked through him at the thought of that.
“Don’t cry, Angel-mine,” he whispered, sipping at her lips, his tongue stroking over the swollen curves as her breath hitched, a small, strangled sob coming from her as her hands gripped his arms, her nails biting into the flesh. “No more tears, baby. Only this. Only this.”
His lips swallowed the words parting her lips, his tongue driving deep as he maneuvered her slowly to the bed, holding her to him as he lifted her to the center before laying her back.
He ignored the gasping little moans that left her throat. Rather than allowing her voice to her questions, he snapped the cuffs on one wrist. She jerked beneath him as he did the same to the other.
Then he released her lips, staring at the kiss-reddened flesh with a sense of satisfaction.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was hoarse as she tested the strength of the chains.
Jack moved back, going to her ankles, chuckling as she kicked out at him.
“Jack, have you lost your mind?” She struggled furiously as he restrained her ankles, testing the length of the chain for enough freedom of movement to allow him his play. She could bend her knees, but she wasn’t going anyplace. She couldn’t turn from him, nor would she be able to writhe from his grip.
“Let me go!” she snarled up at him, her violet eyes still damp with tears as she fought against the restraints. “Do you think this will solve anything? That it will make it better?” Her voice trembled. “For God’s sake. Don’t hurt me like this, Jack.”
He sighed, shaking his head in chastisement as he watched her.
“Shame on you, Angel, thinking I would just let you walk away,” he said gently, amazed at how free he suddenly felt, at the joy that rose inside him.
He had no idea how much he did love her, how much he had loved her before he ever left Ireland. Until now, staring into her pain-ridden gaze and seeing a reflection of the pain he couldn’t explain within himself, he hadn’t a clue how much she meant to him.
She opened her lips to berate him further when her gaze fell on the torque circling his neck. Her eyes widened then, a gasp leaving her lips as shock filled her eyes.
“I won’t let you go,” he whispered then. “Not ever, Angel-mine.”
Then he lowered his head, taking her lips in a kiss that swamped him with pleasure, with emotion, with a sense of coming home.
He was the dream.
Angel moaned beneath his kiss, her lips parting for him, her tongue tangling with him as he began to sip at her lips, to nibble and stroke as he inflamed every cell in her body with the pleasure.
He was the dream. The one who had tormented her for so many years. And now she knew why she had never been able to look beyond the torque to see his face. Why she had been filled with such a sense of wonder and overpowering emotions. Because she had given up on the dream, just as she had given up on the torque. Only to learn that the man and the neckband went hand in hand.
“Jack.” She moaned his name as his head lifted, his eyes, brilliant blue and filled with arrogant assurance meeting hers.
“I love you.” He whispered the words she had felt certain she would never hear from him. “I’ve waited a lifetime to say those words, Angel. Searched until my soul grew weary with disappointment. I’ll not let you leave me.”
She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Wanted to hold him to her and laugh aloud in overwhelming relief.
“Let me go.” She jerked at the restraints. “I want to hold you, Jack.”
He grinned. A devilish, wicked curve of his lips that had her lips parting in excitement.
“Not yet, baby,” he growled. “We’re going to play tonight. For hours and hours and hours. And when morning comes, you’re going to be too damned tired to even consider leaving. You won’t remember your name let alone any desire to walk away from me.”
She wasn’t going anywhere now. She nearly whispered those words then held them back at the last second. What had he said about playing? Would her pleasure be better served in allowing him his way?
Well, duh, as the American students said. Of course it would be.
She relaxed back upon the pillows.
“Do your worst,” she whispered, smiling herself as his eyes narrowed at her challenge. “But I bet I still remember my name well.”