Swain knocked softly on the back door of the main house, unsure why she’d walked up from the barn after dark, in the rain. Lillie was a siren she was finding impossible to resist. She smiled when Lillie opened the door and grabbed her arm to pull her inside.
“You’re soaked to the skin,” Lillie said. “Haven’t you heard of an umbrella?”
“I was already wet from unloading the ponies and equipment.” She had to raise her voice to be heard as Lillie ducked into the housekeeper’s suite to retrieve a towel from the bathroom. “I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”
Lillie threw the towel over Swain’s head and began to rub her hair dry. Swain laughed under the onslaught, catching Lillie’s hands in hers. “I can do that myself,” she said.
Lillie dropped her hands, but didn’t step back. When Swain finished drying off, Lillie finger-combed her hair into place. She submitted silently, relishing the feel of Lillie’s long fingers. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other.
“Are you hungry?” Lillie asked. “We have some leftovers from the buffet.”
“Famished.”
She was hungry, but she’d have professed to anything to spend time with Lillie. They had been surrounded with other people all day, and the pace had been hectic. Lillie was busy with the buffet preparations, playing hostess at the tent, then cleaning up the food and equipment to come home. Swain had been tied up with the details of hauling horses to the polo field, playing the match, the awards ceremony afterward, then trailering horses back to the farm.
“Did you have fun today?” Swain asked.
“I had a wonderful time. And you were magnificent, outscoring them four to one in the last chukker.” Lillie waved her hands as she talked, her eyes bright. “I was on the edge of my seat when it was tied with only a minute left. And when they got that shot off toward our goal, I was holding my breath and praying at the same time.”
Swain understood. Watching had to be a lot harder than playing.
The Raiders had played at the top of their game the entire match, but still were down by two goals at the start of the last chukker. Mounting their best ponies for the final period, they held the other team to one more goal. The other team’s ponies were no match for Nor’easter. Astride him, Swain seemed to be everywhere on the field—defending, riding off opposing players, stealing the ball, and firing in three goals with deadly accuracy. When the bell rang to signify only a minute left, the score was tied.
Even so, all seemed lost when, in that final minute, an opposing player popped the ball loose out of a bunch-up and his teammate’s wide swing sent it flying airborne toward the goal. The other players seemed to freeze as Domino lunged toward it and Javier stretched to his fullest.
His mallet nailed the ball in midair, dropping it to the ground several yards short of a goal. Domino instantly reared and whirled with all the agility of his desert ancestors, putting Javier in position for a clean swing to slam the ball back into the open field.
It had barely left his mallet when Swain and Nor’easter were galloping at full speed on a trajectory to intercept the pass. But a player from the other team, in a more advantageous position farther down the field, also turned his pony toward the ball. It would have been a race even Nor’easter couldn’t have won, if Rob and Hard Knox hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. They gave the other pony a hard, but legal, bump that nearly unseated his rider.
Swain was in the clear. Julia and Flash cut off the only opposing player guarding the goal. Bending low over Nor’easter’s neck, Swain raised her stick high overhead, bringing it down to strike the ball with a loud thwack. As the blur of white soared past, the player guarding the goal threw his mallet on the ground. He’d had no chance of stopping it.
The Raiders were victorious.
“Catherine and I screamed and cheered like blokes at a football game. I’m amazed that I have any voice left.” Lillie’s expression softened and she cupped Swain’s cheek. “My champion.”
The admiration, the affection in Lillie’s eyes would be burned into Swain’s brain, her heart, forever. It was a soul-deep warmth she’d never felt in the cold world that had been her life. Or maybe she’d been living in a netherworld, waiting for life…waiting for this woman, this moment. She leaned closer to this light, this beacon that was Lillie drawing her.
The microwave chimed and Swain shook herself mentally. In another moment, Lillie’s lips would have been on hers and she would have surrendered. Instead, she retreated, to the refrigerator, and retrieved a chilled bottle of wine.
Ignoring Lillie’s frustrated sigh she turned her attention to locating a corkscrew. Lillie set the plate on the table with silverware for one, along with two wineglasses.
“This is a lot of food. You’re not eating?” Swain asked as she poured the wine.
“I’ve been grazing all day, so I’m not really hungry.” She popped a cheese straw into her mouth.
“So, tell me what you and Catherine did while I was riding ponies,” Swain said, moving the mood to a safer level. “Every time I looked over at the tent, you were holding court with a full house.”
Lillie seemed to accept her retreat and began recounting her day in detail. She swiped a few tidbits from Swain’s plate as she talked, so Swain began feeding every third or fourth forkful to Lillie as she listened. When the plate was empty and Lillie’s day fully recounted, Swain reluctantly stood and slid her plate into the dishwasher.
“Well, I guess I better head back to the barn so you can get some rest. Thanks for dinner.” She walked to the back door.
“Wait!” Lillie opened her mouth to say something, then looked confused about what she wanted to say.
“Lillie?”
“You need to take this trophy with you and put it with the others,” she said quickly. She hurried out of the room and returned with a huge silver bowl. “To the victor, the spoils,” she said lightly, handing it to Swain.
“Ah, but I’m only your champion, my lady. The prize is yours,” Swain said slowly, looking deep into Lillie’s eyes.
Lillie stepped closer. Her hands caressed Swain’s face, her voice soft. “Then to this victor, the spoils.”
Swain lowered her head and met the soft brush of Lillie’s lips. When she felt them part against her mouth, the residual lust of the afternoon’s battle surged in her veins, thick and hot. She was powerless to resist further. She dropped the trophy and pulled Lillie roughly to her. Lillie’s heart beat wildly against her own as she plundered Lillie’s mouth and claimed her prize. Lillie moaned and sagged against her, relinquishing herself to Swain’s passion. She lifted her chin, her graceful neck an offering to Swain’s lips and tongue.
“Swain. Oh, Swain.”
Her name was music on Lillie’s lips, a hypnotic call.
She spun them around to pin Lillie against the wall, her thigh fitting between Lillie’s, finding her heat. Lillie’s hips undulated against the pressure, her hands clawed at Swain’s back.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, love. Make me yours.”
But Lillie wasn’t hers, would never be hers. She’d return to England, to a world of wealthy friends, theater, and city living. A world where Swain—with horse sweat on her clothes and manure on her boots—didn’t belong. Trembling with the effort to rein in her fervor, she pushed away, averting her eyes from Lillie’s gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest to securely tuck away her hands, the traitors that a moment before had been inches from tearing open Lillie’s blouse to caress her breasts.
“No. God, I’m sorry. No.” Swain scooped up the trophy from the floor and fled.
*
Lillie was stunned. Nothing but a cold chill remained where Swain’s heat and hard muscle had been pressed against her seconds before. She ran her mind over the previous two minutes. Had she said something wrong? Did Swain have a lover that Lillie didn’t know about?
She considered following her to the barn and demanding an explanation. But when she opened the back door, the pounding of hooves and the dark silhouette fleeing toward the moonlit trails made it clear she would get no answers tonight.
Damn it to bloody hell. She closed the door and locked it, then set the alarm. When she had first asked Swain to wait, she had intended to finally tell her about the man stalking her. But when she looked into those blue eyes and heard her name on those lips, all she could think about was kissing her. And Swain’s response left no doubt that she wanted to kiss Lillie. So, why did she run?
Her thoughts and emotions were reeling, spinning too fast for her to sleep, and taking care of her physical arousal herself held no appeal. She wanted Swain, and nothing else would come close to satisfying her.
So, Lillie filled the deep claw-footed tub in her bathroom and climbed in to let the soothing water drain the tension from her body and the noise from her head. She lay back and closed her eyes, concentrating on calming her emotions.
But as she relaxed, images of Swain seeped into her thoughts. Her hips spasmed and her ovaries tingled at the memory of the tempest that was Swain. Startled by her reaction, Lillie sprang from her bath and dried quickly. She usually slept in her silk panties, but tonight she dressed in pajamas to suppress her disobedient body.
She grabbed her laptop from the dresser and climbed into bed. Maybe catching up on her e-mail would distract her. She booted up the computer and clicked for her messages to download.
As she waited, she glanced at the French doors that led to the balcony. If she opened them a bit, would she hear the hoofbeats when Swain returned? The ping sounded that indicated her download was complete, so she redirected her attention and scanned down through her mail. Curiously, one file showed her own addy, as though she had sent it to herself. She opened it and froze.
Did you let the pussy out of the closet yet?
It was him. He had been in this house, in this bedroom. He had locked the cat in the closet. And now, he had hacked into her e-mail account. She read the rest of his words and the double entendre of the first line became clear.
Has Swain had a ride on more than just your ponies? She can’t give you what you need. You need a man to give you a Wetherington heir.
She punched the Delete key and closed the laptop without properly shutting it down, as though she could shut him out, erase him from her life. She returned the computer to the dresser, then looked around the bedroom.
He wasn’t hiding in the bathroom. She had just come from there. She darted over to the French doors. They were securely locked, but she pulled the heavy drapes together to cover them. The walk-in closet. He could be there. She grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table and punched in Swain’s number. The call went immediately to voice mail. Damn it.
“Swain, it’s Lillie. I’m sorry. Listen, please call me. I don’t care what time. I need to tell you something.” She had to warn her about the stalker. Then she needed to disappear. She entertained a fleeting hope that Swain would go with her. But Swain wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t understand how dangerous this man was. She hadn’t lost both her parents to his “accidents.” She hadn’t felt his filthy hands on her, his disgusting erection against her belly.
She pulled a pair of sharp scissors from the table’s drawer and held them like a dagger as she approached the closet cautiously. The door was partially open and she pushed it slowly back. Quickly flipping the light switch, she breathed in relief when the only things illuminated were clothes and shoes. She knelt some distance from the bed and peered underneath. Nothing there.
Although the alarm was on, she went to the bedroom door and locked it, too, then crawled under the bed covers, the scissors tucked beneath her pillow. She turned off the bedside lamp and let her eyes adjust to the dim illumination of the bathroom’s nightlight. She clutched a pillow to her chest, against the terrified thumping of her heart. It would be a long time until dawn.