Children of Destiny Books 1-3 (Texas: Children of Destiny Book 9) Page 44

  The sun wasn’t shining, but never had a morning seemed more gloriously new and golden. He felt freed of a lifetime of guilt. Even if she wasn’t ready to accept her family yet, for him the nightmare was over.

  She had freed him. Julia Jackson no longer held him in thrall.

  He was free.

  At last.

  He could go on with his own life.

  He thought of Mercedes. Dawn would have to change her mind about that. It was only that the idea of a mother and a family were so new.

  He was free.

  Never again would he allow anything or anyone to possess him.

  Tomorrow he would put her on a plane to New York, and he would be a free man.

  The phone rang in the middle of that satisfying thought, and when she didn’t move he reached across the beautiful naked woman in his arms and answered it.

  “Dawn?” The man’s imperious tone was both questioning and possessive, and Kirk bristled.

  “She’s right here,” Kirk drawled, a fierce note of possession in his own voice as he reluctantly handed her the phone.

  “Who the hell was that?” both men demanded at the same time.

  Lincoln’s voice was being blasted into the room by some sort of speaker, so that Kirk could hear every word, and Dawn had no idea how to cut it off. Lincoln could probably hear Kirk as well.

  She bolted guiltily upright in bed. “It’s just Kirk.” Then she glanced toward Kirk who had rolled onto his side and was staring pointedly at the delicious display of her bare breasts, and she blushed. “I—I mean Mr. MacKay, the man who saved me.”

  “So it’s Mr. MacKay now,” Kirk said with a contemptuous smirk.

  “I mean... Oh, hell...” She twisted the tail of her sheet into a tangle of wrinkles.

  “It’s only 7:00 a.m. your time. What’s MacKay doing there at this...”

  Dawn was so used to Lincoln ordering every aspect of her life, that it was a novelty to discover that she suddenly resented it.

  Kirk’s green eyes blazed. “What the hell business is it of his?”

  Both men awaited her reply with equal interest.

  She clenched the receiver, and her fuming silence was the most eloquent of answers.

  “Listen to me, Dawn. I know you’re grateful to him and all,” Lincoln began.

  “Grateful?” Kirk chuckled. “I’d say that what you felt was a lot hotter and more exciting than gratitude.”

  “Gratitude has nothing to do with it,” she whispered heatedly into the receiver.

  “If anyone is asking me,” Kirk began, “I’d say it was pure unadulterated lust.”

  “They’re not asking you!” Dawn hissed at Kirk.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about men,” Lincoln’s voice thundered. “Especially not a man like him.”

  “Why don’t you tell Mr. Wilde how much you’ve learned since you last saw him, princess?”

  “Would you shut up?” she whispered to Kirk, covering the receiver.

  “What?” Lincoln demanded, furious.

  “Not you!” she said into the receiver.

  “Dawn, you don’t owe that MacKay scoundrel anything. Send him packing. At once.”

  “He saved my life!”

  “He was paid to do it. Tell him goodbye, and get on the first plane back to New York.”

  “I know you mean well, Lincoln,” she replied softly, “but...”

  “The hell he does!” Kirk grabbed the phone and slammed it down on the receiver. “Where does that bastard get off telling you how to run your life? He treats you like he thinks you’re five years old.”

  “I’m his dancer.”

  There was an instant’s silence. Emerald eyes touched hers.

  Kirk’s hand caressed her long beautiful throat. Then he tilted her face so he could inspect it.

  “But you’re my woman,” he murmured huskily, his rage gone. “Apparently I don’t take kindly to other men ordering my woman around.”

  They each seemed to realize at the same minute what he’d said.

  “That’s awfully chauvinistic.”

  “Sorry,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound the least bit apologetic.

  She felt the hand beneath her chin grow tense. The blood roared in her ears, and she caught a shaky breath. She expected him to back down, but he didn’t. His mouth was curved in a tender smile that told her nothing.

  “But I thought...” she began.

  “So did I,” he whispered.

  “I thought we weren’t ever going to see each other after tomorrow.”

  “There’s no way I can put you on a plane and send you back to that dictatorial jerk and let him push you around. All he cares about is making you dance. The last thing he wants is for you to think or change or grow as a person. He would never encourage you to get in touch with your past. Dawn, you have to come to terms with who you are. Then, if you want, dance.”

  “No!”

  “He wants your body busy so your mind won’t be there. If you want to go on as before, fine, but I want it to be your choice, not his.”

  “You mean...”

  Kirk’s head moved to the side in a hopeless gesture. “It was my fault you were kidnapped. My fault you’ve been afraid to live. It’s my fault you never had a man...till now. My fault you won’t accept who you really are. You’ve missed so much because of me. I hate the thought of your living the rest of your life like a nun the way that bastard wants you to. I’m taking you to New York myself.”

  “What?”

  “Any objections?”

  She shook her head, a wild, soaring happiness filling her.

  “All I know is that I’ve never felt like this before. I want to be with you as long as I can,” he said.

  She nuzzled her cheek against his throat. “I’m afraid of losing you, too, afraid of never feeling like this again. I just want to belong to you like this for as long as possible. But when you decide to go...I’ll let you.”

  “Oh, Dawn.” He murmured her name in a frantic sigh that seemed almost sad.

  Tenderly he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Then he kissed her, and once he did, he found he could not stop.

  *

  A softly muted London sun had come out and was filtering through the damp leaves of the gigantic plane trees of Hyde Park. It was the exact sort of day that appealed to Dawn after her ordeal in the desert.

  Dawn fitted her foot into the cradle of Kirk’s hands, and he boosted her into the saddle.

  Frantically she grabbed the horse’s mane. “Oops! I told you I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

  “You’ve ridden before. You just forgot.”

  “I was only five!”

  “Just hold the reins, honey.” He patted her thigh. “And...relax.”

  “But he’s huge.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  Kirk inspected the horse’s tack, then patted the animal’s neck, checking everything until he was sure that all was in order. Gently he pulled her foot out of the stirrup and slid his own inside it.

  The saddle gave with his weight as his body slid directly against hers from behind. In an instant their bodies were intimately joined in the saddle. His powerful arms reached around her and gathered up the reins. She was aware of every point where his body touched hers.

  “How come we couldn’t go to an art gallery or a museum?”

  “Because you said we could do what I wanted to do, princess.”

  He had her there. No way could she argue with her own data.

  The horse began to prance, and Dawn jumped, startled. She grabbed at Kirk’s hands, and he folded her trembling fingers tightly inside his.

  “Easy,” Kirk whispered against her ear, “you’re going to scare him.”

  “Scare him! What about me?”

  He chuckled. “Remember, you’re the one that jumped off the roof and tackled a gang of Arab terrorists single-handedly.”

  “You know I don’t remember that!”

  “Neverth
eless, you did it. And you can do this. There’s only one way to get over a hang-up, and that’s to face it head-on. You were crazy about horses when you were a little girl. There’s no reason for you to be scared of them now.”

  He leaned forward and nudged his heels into the gelding’s flanks. The giant horse leapt forward.

  Every muscle in Dawn’s body contracted. “Kirk!”

  “Hush. You’re perfectly safe. I’m not about to let anything happen to you.” Kirk was guiding the gelding out of the stable yard onto a wide dirt pathway.

  “Why couldn’t you just rent a horse?”

  “One of those dispirited nags. No way. I wanted you to get the feel of really riding.”

  In no time they were on a bridle path with golden sunlight shimmering through emerald-green leaves. There were boats with people rowing on the serpentine lake. The air was cool and damp and filled with springtime freshness, and yet the sounds of the city could be heard.

  She began to relax. She’d danced in London dozens of times, but never once had she come to Hyde Park and seen white swans gliding on the lake or ridden on Rotten Row. It was as if London were a new town, and she was seeing it for the first time through different eyes.

  “Who does this four-hoofed demon belong to, anyway?” she asked, after they’d ridden in silence for a long time.

  “To one of Jeb’s friends. In fact, to the powerful gentleman who saw to my release last night.”

  They passed other riders along the way and drew curious glances from them. Suddenly Dawn became acutely aware of her body sliding up and down against Kirk’s in a rhythm that matched the horse’s gait.

  “Now this isn’t so bad, is it?” he whispered.

  He was holding the reins with one hand. His other hand was wrapped around her waist.

  She felt the heat and pressure of every male finger pressing into her. There was possession in his touch. She felt his firm, hard stomach against her spine and shivered. “No. It’s really quite pleasant,” she admitted breathlessly.

  He pulled her closer, adjusting her body to fit his. “I damn sure couldn’t hold you like this in a museum.”

  A ripple of warmth went through her. She laughed. “We’d be kicked out for sure.”

  Against her ear he whispered. “And I wouldn’t want to waste the day doing anything except holding you.”

  She felt the edges of his fingertips beneath her breasts and hardly dared to breathe.

  For a while they rode in silence. They scarcely noticed the beautiful day. They were both too conscious of the way the horse’s movements jogged Kirk’s taut body against the softness of hers, of his hand holding her tightly to him. She wanted to savor every moment of closeness with him.

  “Try to remember when you rode before,” he whispered.

  “I—I can’t.”

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded, “and just let yourself feel it.”

  She shut out the brilliant day, but when she did, she was aware only of the hot, masculine body aligned against hers, of the thickly muscled thighs and legs touching hers, of the pleasant pervasive scent of Kirk’s musky after-shave.

  “Nothing,” she breathed. She was almost thankful there was no white light, no headache afterward. “I can remember nothing.”

  “Concentrate!” he whispered fiercely.

  It was impossible to think of anything but him. “Nothing. Kirk, I—I...” Her voice broke. “Really!”

  “Try to remember. You’re Julia Jackson, five years old...”

  She felt the power of the immense animal beneath her. Suddenly the world went white, but this time she managed to hold the flame back. The colors returned, and the sounds. Her head throbbed, and she was terrified.

  “I’m not Julia! I’m not! You can’t do this to me!” Tears began to course uncontrollably down her cheeks.

  “Dawn!” he whispered in a steady voice, reining the gelding to a halt.

  She refused to answer him. When he tried to make her turn her head and look at him, she merely lowered her head and brushed away her tears.

  He dismounted abruptly and reached up, pulling her down beside him, taking her into his arms to comfort her. Her face was pale, her eyes immense with terror. There was some wall in her mind she was terrified to go past. Never in his life had he felt more guilty for thoughtlessly inflicting pain on another. He was helpless to make amends, helpless to say anything to make her understand that he’d only done what he’d done to help her. She would see it as betrayal. She had told him she didn’t want to face her past, and he had refused to listen.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he said soothingly, caressing her arms. “Open your eyes again. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “You shouldn’t have...”

  “I was wrong,” he said wretchedly. “I behaved like an idiot. Do you want to go back?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a flat, cool tone.

  In silence, they rode back the way they’d come beneath willows, poplars and elms. A blond spaniel chasing a ball jumped in front of the gelding. When the horse reared, Kirk managed the animal so expertly that Dawn felt only the faintest tremor of fear.

  She forced herself to study Kirk’s long-fingered, tanned hands. With expert mastery, one hand had controlled the horse, while the other held the woman. She marveled at the strength and gentleness in those rough callused hands. They knew exactly how to handle a horse, exactly how to touch a woman. She thought of them sliding over her body, caressing her intimately, inflaming her, and she was filled with a wild, tremulous pleasure. He had not meant to hurt her by trying to make her face her past. It would not be so difficult to forgive him for what he’d done.

  Much later, when they were back in the stable yard, he helped her dismount, lifting her down so that her body slid against his length.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, holding her close.

  She tilted her head back. “It doesn’t matter. I understand. You were trying to make me whole again.”

  His sensual mouth twisted. “I did a lousy job.”

  “It’s over. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal of it.” Her eyes were luminous. His nearness sizzled through her like an electric shock. “No one, not ever... No one has cared for me the way you do. You took a risk, but you took it for me. I love you, Kirk. I know you don’t want me to, and I don’t want to, either. But I do.”

  She ran her tongue across the pouting fullness of her lips. Then she stretched onto her toes to kiss him. The tips of her breasts pushed against his chest.

  Kirk crushed her mouth beneath his and kissed her until he felt the involuntary trembling begin in both their bodies. His fingers crumpled purple silk. Her blouse came loose from her jeans, and she felt his hot hands against her naked flesh.

  “I love you,” she sighed. The warm moistness of her breath caressed his parted lips.

  With languorous slowness his mouth took possession of hers again. “Let’s go back to Chelsea.”

  She opened her eyes and found they would not focus on his face.

  “Not yet,” she whispered.

  The kiss was like a slow burning flame that kept getting hotter and hotter.

  “Then where?” he muttered desperately before taking her lips again.

  His kiss melted Dawn against his steel-hard body. Her pulse throbbed dully. “A museum,” she managed shakily. “Somewhere...safe.”

  At first she thought he hadn’t heard her. Then she felt the tensing of his muscles as he slowly became motionless. “I thought you wanted...”

  “I do.” She hesitated. “But now, after baring my heart, I feel like I need some distance. We’re so wrong for each other, Kirk. So wrong. And I love you so much.”

  Her long-lashed eyes lifted and met Kirk’s fierce, hungry gaze.

  “Whatever you say,” he whispered as he reluctantly set her away from him.

  *

  The wind was in her loose flowing hair. The smell and sounds of the river enveloped her.

  Kirk was at the helm o
f the boat he had rented to go down the Thames to Hampton Court. The diesel motor of the little boat vibrated as it sped over the glassy waters beneath ancient bridges. Fascinated, like a child, Dawn watched the light glisten in the curls of the following wake.

  Kirk glanced at her from time to time, and he thought she seemed vulnerable and feminine and bewitchingly beautiful. The sunlight rippled in her hair; her eyes shone like large ebony pearls. Her face was very expressive and he could read the solemn delight she felt in everything she saw. Silk clung to her breasts; denim hugged her shapely hips and thighs. Why did just looking at her arouse him so?

  He closed his eyes and fought to put her out of his mind. Instead, he found himself remembering the way her mouth and tongue had run wildly over his chest and stomach, the way her hand had innocently explored him the night before. He remembered her naked body, and the way it felt beneath his hands. He remembered the hot, sweet taste of her, the joy of that first tantalizing moment when he’d entered her. But most of all he remembered the soft expression on her face when she’d told him she loved him.

  He almost groaned aloud at the voluptuous memories. She excited him. It had only been a few hours since he’d had her, but he wanted her all over again. Horseback riding had been a mistake. He had only wanted to help her. Instead, he’d terrified her. He wished she had let him take her back to Chelsea afterward so that he could show her with physical passion what he’d been unable to put into words, that she was right. He cared, more deeply than he should, more deeply than he wanted to.

  She was new to sex. An innocent. He couldn’t rush her, couldn’t expect her to desire him with the same insatiable hunger he felt for her, couldn’t expect her to know that sex could be a language between lovers.

  He opened his eyes, and the mere sight of her made him ache to take her in his arms. The muscles in his throat tightened. He had to distract himself. He wanted to tell her about the Jacksons, to ease her fears about them, but he chose a safe, neutral topic.

  “I’m glad you didn’t hold me to the museum,” Kirk said dryly at last.

  “You looked so unhappy.”

  Because he couldn’t have her. “Lucky for me, you have a soft heart and decided to take pity on me.”