His lean jaw set, his jet-black hair whipping about his face in the night wind, Brit Caruth rode hell-for-leather into town.
He was angry, although he had carefully concealed it from everyone. Everyone but her. He wanted her to know.
Brit was mad as hell that from out of the blue a slender, blond-haired pretender had turned up intending to calmly take advantage of the good-hearted LaDextra.
Damn her to hell, whoever she was. If it turned out that she wasn’t Anna, and he was sure she wasn’t, LaDextra would be deeply hurt. He hated the thought of that happening. LaDextra Regent was his only family and he loved her dearly, wanted to protect her from pain.
And if he didn’t expose this woman claiming to be Anna for an avaricious imposter, he would lose everything he had worked so hard for all his life. Well, that was not going to happen. He wouldn’t allow it. Tomorrow he’d get a wire off to the Pinkertons. Have them send one of their best agents down to Arizona and the Apache country to begin a thorough investigation of this woman claiming to be Anna Regent Wright.
When Brit reached the twinkling lights of Regentville, he began to relax. He was confident that the mystery woman would be exposed for the fraud she was and sent on her way.
And the sooner the better.
No getting around it, she was a pretty little thing, all right, with that long blond hair and porcelain skin and those luscious lips. And, Lord, that willowy body. A slender, beautiful body that looked as if it had been made to fit perfectly against his own. The very thought of holding her in his arms caused Brit’s belly to tighten, his teeth to clamp down hard.
He impatiently shook his head to clear it.
To hell with her.
He had all the woman he could handle waiting for him a short half mile ahead.
Brit soon brought Captain, his iron-gray stallion, to a plunging halt before the pale yellow Victorian house at the end of Yucca Street. At his forceful knock, a voluptuous red-haired woman wearing nothing but a shimmering, black satin robe appeared in the lighted doorway.
“Evenin’, Beverly,” Brit drawled, smiling, and put his hands around her narrow waist. With total ease, he lifted her up before him and said, “Could a thirsty cowboy get a drink of whiskey around here?”
With laughter bubbling from her wide, red lips, the merry young widow Harris wrapped her long legs around Brit’s hard waist and promised seductively, “Ah, my love, you can get a whole lot more than whiskey around here.”
Smiling, Brit stepped inside the foyer and kicked the door shut behind him. He proceeded directly to the wide staircase, while the woman in his arms clung to his neck and scattered kisses over his tanned face.
Brit laughed and, holding her securely with one long arm, began dexterously relieving her of the black satin robe. Halfway up the stairs the robe fell to the carpeted steps and Beverly Harris was as naked as the day she was born. Her knees gripping his sides, ankles crossed behind his back, she impatiently slipped a hand down Brit’s chest and began unbuttoning his white linen shirt.
By the time they reached the upstairs landing, Brit’s shirt was open and pushed off one shoulder, and the wriggling woman in his arms was kissing and licking his bare chest. Brit lowered Beverly to her bare feet. Together they made short work of relieving him of his clothes. When he was as naked as she, Beverly purred like a kitten, wrapped her small white hands around his awesome erection and, backing away, led him by his pulsing member straight to her luxurious bedroom.
Once there, they moved decisively to the bed. Never releasing her hold on him, Beverly sank back onto the silk-sheeted mattress, drawing him down with her.
She licked her red lips, kept one soft hand wrapped around his erection and lowered the other to gently cup him. Letting her caressing fingers slide up and down his hot, heavy flesh, she murmured provocatively, “All day I could think of nothing but having your hard, beautiful flesh deep inside me.” She looked up at him, smiled seductively. “Tell me that’s where it belongs.”
“Sure, honey,” Brit said automatically, “it belongs in you and that’s where I intend to put it very soon.”
Beverly was not totally satisfied with his answer. She said coyly, “Brit, tell me it is mine. All mine. No one else’s.”
“Now, Bev, don’t start with that foolishness,” Brit gently scolded. Moving her hand away, he replaced it with his own and lowered himself against her. With his naked chest pressing her soft, warm breasts, his bare belly and throbbing erection resting against her stomach, he brushed a teasing kiss to her lips. Beverly flung her arms around his neck, eagerly lifted her parted lips to his and kissed him passionately.
She sighed into his mouth when his long, tapered fingers sought and found that soft wet heat between her thighs. His lips nibbling hers, Brit lay there partially atop her in the lamplight and teased and toyed with her until she was so aroused he knew she couldn’t avoid a climax much longer.
So he stopped.
He took his hand from between her legs, his mouth from her lips. She moaned her protest, but was actually glad that he had stopped.
She knew exactly what he was doing and she fully approved.
He had left her right on the brink of ecstasy and would now wait until she calmed and cooled a bit before he started taking her there again. It was the way they liked to make love. Some nights they spent hours playing, pushing each other almost to sexual madness before finally allowing the much needed climax. And oh what a climax. Many a time she had screamed out as she thrashed about in the throes of fantastic sexual release.
Beverly sighed and lay back on the bed. Brit smiled and stretched on his back beside her. He folded his arms beneath his head and watched through heavy black lashes as the big-breasted, milky-skinned redhead ran her scarlet-nailed little finger up his rock-hard erection, from tight, drawn-up testicles to swollen, pulsing tip.
It was her turn to arouse him to the breaking point, and she was quite talented at the game.
Within a few short minutes she had stroked and caressed and licked and tongued his hard male flesh until he could stand it no longer.
Brit grabbed Beverly up, turned her onto her back and was poised to thrust eagerly into her when she stopped him.
“No, darling,” she said, quickly putting a protective hand between her legs, blocking his access. “It’s too early. You just got here.” She agilely slipped out from under him and rose from the bed. She nodded to a tall silver stand near the bed where a corked magnum was chilling in ice. “Let’s have a glass of champagne before we start again.”
When the lusty pair finally made love fully, more than an hour had passed. Both were pleasantly tipsy from the smooth wine and so hot they were on fire. Perspiring, slipping and sliding on each other, they were not on the bed, but on the floor beside it. There on the soft plush carpet, they finally let themselves go.
Afterward, Brit waited only a few minutes before saying, “It’s getting late, I better go.”
“No!” Beverly petulantly protested. “You never leave this soon. Why, we’ve just begun to have fun.”
“Ah, Bev, you’re too much woman for me,” said Brit.
“I never have been before. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he said, half-irritated that she’d suggest something was. “Not a thing,” he assured her, easing her off of him and sitting up. Lifting his arms and running both hands through his thick hair, he said, “I’m just a little tired tonight. Had a long, hard day.”
“Oh, very well,” Bev replied, relenting. “You can go if you promise to come again tomorrow night.”
“Can’t,” he said as he reached for his discarded trousers.
“Why? Have you something better to do?”
Brit flashed her a winning smile and said, “What could be better than you?”
At The Regent, Anna was still wide awake.
After LaDextra left her, she had gone inside the room that had supposedly once been hers. Nothing about it was familiar. She had never been in it before. Nor in any room to compare. She had never seen anything so grand, so beautiful.
Anna had stared in amazement at walls covered in shimmering, pale beige watered silk. The high ceiling, the baseboard moldings and the oversize window casings were of gleaming ivory. Tall, ivory, many-paned French doors opened onto the wide balcony. The doors had been closed.
Now Anna opened one of them, stepped outside, moved to the balcony railing and gazed at the wide valley spread out below. A quarter moon sailed high in the cloudless night sky, and from somewhere nearby the subtle scent of honeysuckle sweetened the air.
Anna inhaled deeply, then turned and went back inside the exquisite room that was now hers. She left one of the French doors ajar to catch the cool April breeze.
A chaise longue covered in rich chocolate velvet sat before a tall front window near the French doors. A beige silk canopied bed had been turned down for the night. The sheets looked clean, cool and inviting, and there were a half-dozen pillows with lace-trimmed cases stacked up against the bed’s tall headboard.
On the wall opposite the bed was an imposing ivory marble fireplace. A high-backed beige sofa sat near the fireplace, facing a pair of matching high-backed chairs across a low mahogany table. And wonder of wonders, there on a highly polished stand was a large, crank-up phonograph for playing music!
Anna kept turning round and round, staring at the large luxurious room. She clasped her hands together and pressed them to her heart. Tears of happiness filled her eyes. She gazed at the big soft bed and couldn’t believe her good fortune.
Anxious to test the mattress’s softness, Anna undressed, drew on a new batiste nightgown, blew out the lamp and climbed into the inviting canopied bed. How incredibly comfortable it was! In her wildest dreams, she had never imagined how absolutely wonderful it would be to lie in a big, soft bed with silky sheets and fluffy pillows. The hard ground and a narrow cot were all she had ever known.
Lying in that big bed, Anna sighed, stretched and smiled with pleasure.
But her elation was tempered with guilt.
I am a criminal, she silently accused herself, facing fully what she was for the first time. A charlatan and a liar. For an unpleasant moment, she struggled with her guilty conscience. Then she sighed and confessed, But I’ve got what I wanted and it is worth it. Now, if only I can keep it.
With that thought the darkly handsome face of Brit Caruth flashed into Anna’s mind. She frowned. She didn’t want to think about him. She tried to dismiss him, but he wouldn’t let her be. His image, the way he had looked at dinner with the candlelight casting shadows on his face, plagued her, frightened her. Anna tossed and turned fitfully.
She was worried.
Brit Caruth would surely do everything in his power to expose her as a fraud. He was not about to let her hurt LaDextra or get her hands on the Regent fortune. Anna knew instinctively that Brit Caruth was a dangerous man, at least dangerous to her. And in more ways than one.
Not only did she recognize him as being a powerful adversary, she was all too aware of his striking good looks and abundant animal magnetism. He was surely unsafe to any healthy, red-blooded female.
Including her.
Her hand still tingled from being enclosed in his lean fingers, and it was impossible not to speculate on how it would feel to have those beautiful brown hands touch her face, her throat, her lips.
Anna quickly turned onto her side and drew her knees up to her chin in a protective gesture. She would have to be always on her guard and, if possible, stay completely away from the incredibly masculine, menacing Brit Caruth.