Marriage at the Cowboy's Command (12 page)

“If you insist,” he murmured.

When he finally slid inside her, she circled his waist with her hands, tugging him closer. “Yes! Yes!”

Within seconds they were moving together, up and down, faster and faster, his hard flesh plunging inside her.

The priceless paintings in the room blurred. She couldn't breathe fast enough. Her fingertips climbed his spine and dug into his neck. She wanted him desperately. All too soon she was clinging, exploding, screaming. Only after her pleasure did he find his own, and when he did, she climaxed again. For a long, shuddering moment he held her perspiring body against his own, his blunt fingertips caressing her gently.

She felt so shattered, she wept. He smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. “Don't cry, sweetheart.”

“It scares me the way the sex keeps getting better and better.”

“I rather like it,” he murmured. “We can do it again if you like.”

“I don't like needing you so much.”

“Why not? We're married, aren't we?”

Yes, but only because he'd felt obligated, she thought, wishing with all her heart that he could truly love her.

T
he next morning, Caitlyn awoke blushing. Her deliciously sensual dream had involved Luke making love to her while they rode Sahara across a moonlit desert. Sighing with fresh longing for Luke, she reached across the bed to touch him, but found only his empty pillow.

Sitting up, she opened her eyes. The bedroom was bathed with soft, gray sunlight. On her bedside table lay a crisp note.

I'll make it a point to get home early, sweetheart.

So, he'd left, and she wouldn't see him for hours.

Remembering his kisses and caresses, she shivered with yearning. Stretching, she ran her fingers through her silken hair. Then she grabbed his pillow and inhaled his clean, masculine scent.

She felt happy. Truly happy, for the first time since he'd come back into her life.

If he didn't love her, he was never unkind…unless,
she amended, she provoked him. The thought made her smile.

Maybe he cared a little. Maybe even more than a little. He'd said he was proud of her. He'd acted as if he adored her. There was no denying that the sex last night had been extraordinary.

But they never mentioned the past. He hadn't explained why he'd taken the money and run, why he'd walked out on her without saying goodbye or why he felt justified in being angry about the past. How could she trust him and build on that trust if they couldn't talk to each other about the things that mattered?

Despite her nagging doubts, she got up, humming to herself. Checking her cell, she saw a text from Dr. Morrow with the good news that Angel had tested negative.

Wonderful, she thought. Still humming, she showered and went to find Daniel so they could breakfast together.

She was still aglow an hour later when she and Daniel were riding in Hyde Park on the famous sand-covered bridleway, Rotten Row.

“Mom, is that great big bird a seagull?” Daniel cried as he pointed to a huge bird near a fountain. “I thought everything was s'posed to be bigger in Texas.”

“Texans do brag, but no, I don't think that's a seagull…although it is some kind of seabird. Very good observation. Later, we'll have to get a bird book and look—”

Before she could complete her answer, a man yelled her name. When she twisted in her saddle, a dozen flashes went off in their faces. She gave a cry of despair when she saw the horde of reporters stampeding toward them from behind a tall hedge.

The paparazzi.

It was all the stable groom could do to hold on to Daniel's frantic horse. When Caitlyn's gelding reared, pawing the air wildly, she dealt with him in a firm, gentle manner that soon had him under control. Then Luke's security team surrounded them.

“We've got to get you both out of here,” Thierry, the head of security said.

A man in ripped jeans with keen gray eyes and a long-lensed camera pushed closer and fired questions at her as he took dozens of pictures.

“Why did your husband buy Mullsley Abbey, the home he and Teresa Wellsley toured together, and then marry you?”

“No comment,” Thierry said.

“Excuse me.” Caitlyn blinked in confusion. “Mullsley Abbey? I don't know anything about that.”

“Rumors said he intended it for Teresa as a wedding gift,” the rude reporter said.

“I don't know anything about this!” she exclaimed.

“Why did he marry you?” another man in thick glasses demanded.

“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Kilgore, did you marry him for his money?”

“No!” she said defensively. “It was his idea to marry me! Yes, I owed money. But he's the one who offered to help
me.
”

“Isn't that another way of saying you married him for his money?”

“Is the kid Kilgore's?” another asked.

“None of your business!”

Their questions and condescension were making her too furious to think. Fortunately, Thierry got between her and Daniel and the clamoring herd.

“Is he Kilgore's?”

“No comment,” Thierry growled.

Quickly, he helped her and Daniel dismount. Other members of the security team attended to their mounts while she and Daniel were hustled across the lawn to the safety of a black SUV. They sped away, only to be chased by a swarm of motorcycles. Big-eyed, Daniel pressed his face to the window.

Minutes later, after having been notified by Thierry of the ruckus, Luke called her on her cell. “Are you and Daniel okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered, staring at the motorcycles. “They…they said you bought a house you'd intended to give Teresa. Is that true?”

He was silent for a long moment. “No.”

“But were there rumors about it being intended as your wedding gift to her?”

“Look, I'll explain everything tonight when I get home.”

“But…”

“You said you're both okay. That's all that matters. We can't worry about what the press dreams up to say about us every day for the rest of our lives. They always distort everything.” He said a tense goodbye and hung up.

The story broke on television early in the afternoon, before Luke got home. Every talking head in Great Britain wanted to know who billionaire Luke Kilgore really loved—the English heiress or the Texan fortune hunter with the little boy.

“I'm not a fortune hunter,” Caitlyn said to the television. “I'm not!”

There were clips of Teresa on Luke's arm, which must have been taken before he'd come to Texas. She
was a young, ethereal blonde, who smiled at him as if she adored him. There were clips of their visit to Mullsley Abbey and its immense deer park. After these, a clip from today of Teresa in a white miniskirt, her cheeks tear-streaked as she dashed from Luke's office building, was aired repeatedly. She was equally beautiful in tears.

Why had Teresa gone to see Luke? Had she deliberately let the bloodhounds catch her there?

The worst clip of all, if she didn't count the ones of Daniel's pale face plastered against the SUV's window, was of an angry-looking Caitlyn defending herself by saying, “It was his idea to marry me! Yes, I owed money. But he's the one who offered to help
me.
”

After seeing that clip for what had to be the tenth time, Caitlyn flipped the channel in disgust only to find another story about Luke.

“Billionaire Kilgore has been in the news because too many of his employees at Kommstarr see him as a rich CEO who wants to break up their company while firing talented people,” a female newscaster brayed in an accusatory tone. “Here's what one single mother who lost her job this week has to say about him.” She handed the microphone to a pretty young woman in tattered jeans, who was bouncing a crying blue-eyed baby in her arms.

“That's right. I'm a single mum, I am. Where will the likes of me go in this job market? Kilgore is filthy rich, but he's got no heart. I pity those two women, the countess and the gold digger, who are fighting over him. He may be Mr. Moneybags, but he'll break their hearts, same as he broke mine. And my little girl's. Just look at her—poor lamb. How am I going to feed her?”

Behind Caitlyn, the front door slammed. She whirled
just as a haggard Luke stepped into the room. His shoulders sagged as he leaned his briefcase against the wall.

“Nothing those people are saying is true. Not a word,” he said quietly. She noted the dark circles under his eyes.

“Of course,” she whispered. “I believe you.”

The next clip was again that of the furious Caitlyn.

A muscle jerked in Luke's hard cheek.

“That's out of context,” she whispered defensively.

“I'm sure it was. I told you they'd twist anything you said or did. Why did you talk to them?”

“Because they asked me questions.”

He crossed the room, grabbed the remote and turned off the television.

“What about Mullsley Abbey? Is it true? Were you intending it for Teresa before you found out about Daniel?” she asked.

“No. I visited it with her once as a regular tourist, and then I found it was for sale and became interested in it. Caitlyn, I married you. Not Teresa. I want to forget the past. I want us to start over.”

“For Daniel's sake?”

“Not just for his sake, but for ours, too.”

“Did you buy Mullsley Abbey?”

“Yes. For us.”

She swallowed. Not that the hard lump in her throat dissolved.

“And what about Teresa? Did she come to see you today?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know she was coming?”

He nodded. “She called me yesterday.”

Yesterday? So, last night when he'd held her in his
arms and made love to her, he'd known he would see Teresa today. Had he been trying to manipulate Caitlyn with sex?

“Did you tell her that you felt like you had to marry me…because of Daniel?”

“No, because that's not the only reason I married you. Look, I'm sorry that I'm getting so much negative publicity right now. The takeover makes me a hot news item, so that makes you…us…and Teresa…into a secondary story—an imaginary love triangle.”

Imaginary?

“I'm sorry about it, but I can't help it,” he continued. “Are they discussing the factory I'm opening in Bedfordshire and all the new jobs there? No. The networks are after ratings—period. If I were you, I wouldn't watch the so-called news for a while.”

“How else can I know what they're saying? Or what you're doing?”

“It doesn't matter,” he said.

“It matters to me.”

“It isn't real.”

“When I see myself being quoted and accused of being a gold digger, it feels real,” she said.

“You said they distorted what you meant. Well, they twist my actions, too. You know you're not a gold digger.”

“Do I? You said you'd finance Wild Horse Ranch if I married you, and you did.”

“I wanted you to marry me. I would have said anything or done anything to achieve that.”

“But the fact is, your wealth, your ability to save the ranch was a factor in my decision to marry you. So, in a sense, I am a gold digger.”

“Okay. My money's an issue, then. But that doesn't
make you a gold digger. You can concentrate on the negative or the positive.” He paused. “I would like to make our marriage work.”

Was he telling the truth? she wondered.

“Those people are after one thing—salacious stories. They lie. They exaggerate. My fame and wealth will always make us vulnerable to this kind of attack. But fame is an illusion. It's just an opinion held by some people, all of them strangers, because I'm wealthy and own public companies. They don't know me, the man. Or you. Or what I feel about you. What they say doesn't need to have anything to do with us.”

He'd bought the house he and Teresa had looked at together. He'd known she was dropping by the office. Those facts were real.

“I don't know what to believe anymore,” she said slowly.

“I've been at this awhile. My advice is don't watch this stuff. What we need is time to ourselves to adjust to our new life together.”

“But we don't have that luxury,” she whispered. “We live in a fishbowl with the whole world judging us. What will that kind of life do to Daniel? What will he think of you and me?”

“You're right. I should have addressed the issue sooner. We need to take steps to protect him immediately.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have to tell him the truth…about who I am.”

“What?”

“We've got to tell him I'm his real father. Tonight. Now.”

“No! I told you. He's all mixed up about Robert. He's not ready.”

“Would you prefer that he hear lies and half-truths from the kids at school? Do you want him to feel all mixed up like you're feeling? No, you were right the first time. Telling him the truth is the only way we can protect him.”

“T
hat was one bite! Do I have to eat more?” Daniel glared at the spinach soufflé that was still on his plate as he set his fork down.

“No,” said both his parents in low, icy voices.

Their cool glances met for a mere half second. Quickly, Caitlyn looked away, her eyes seeking the safety of Daniel.

“Can I leave, then?” he asked her. “Please. I want to play with my castle and dragons.”

“Before dessert?” Caitlyn replied. “It's chocolate mousse.”

“Okay. I'll stay.”

Daniel stared at each of them and then at the crystal chandelier above the gleaming dining room table. Luke and Caitlyn continued to eat their soufflés, which had become tasteless in the suffocating silence.

“Why do we have such a big table?” Daniel asked.

Why couldn't he just sit quietly for once? Caitlyn thought, and then realized it was hardly Daniel's fault that she felt so tense and out of sorts.

“For dinner parties,” Luke replied.

“But it's always just us,” Daniel answered.

“We'll have parties in the future,” Luke said. “Who'll come?”

“Our friends.”

“Do you have any kid friends who could bring more toys?”

“Some of my business associates have children.”

“What are their names?”

“Daniel!” Caitlyn snapped.

“What?” Daniel asked. “What's wrong with asking questions?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, chastened. “Mommy doesn't feel well, that's all.”

Daniel sighed. Lapsing into a silence that was almost as glum as hers, he stared up at the ceiling again. For the next few minutes there were only the sounds of glasses being lifted and set down, of silverware clinking against china. Her nerves strained to the max, Caitlyn set down her fork.

“You're doing it again!” Daniel said.

“What?” Both adults eyed him guiltily as he glanced from one to the other.

“Not talking to each other. Not looking at each other. Y'all will only talk to me. How come? Are you mad at each other again?”

“No, we have a secret we're going to tell you after dinner, and it's making us nervous,” Luke said.

Caitlyn looked up at him, aghast.

“I don't know about your mother,” Luke said, reaching across the table and wrapping her clenched
hand in his, “but it's sure making me edgy and none too talkative.”

Caitlyn tried to yank her hand free, but Luke folded his hand over hers and held on tight.

“A secret! I can't wait! Tell me now!”

“And skip dessert?” Caitlyn said, still struggling to free her hand.

“Mom, can't you tell me now and then we'll have dessert after the secret?”

“We can do anything we want to,” Luke said, smiling at Caitlyn. Letting her go, he stood up.

Taking the boy's hand, who clung to him happily, he led Daniel onto the balcony. Caitlyn followed them, nervously wrapping a cashmere pashmina around herself when she began to shiver in the damp, chill air.

Sitting down, Luke drew Daniel into his arms.

“Did you know that the minute I met you, I knew you were special?” Luke began.

Daniel's big, white smile flashed as he curled more snugly into Luke's arms.

“And you are special, much more special than I realized.” He smoothed Daniel's hair behind his ear. “You know I told you that your mother and I are old friends, that we knew each other before she married your father.”

“Yes,” Daniel murmured.

“Well, the truth is, we were more than friends. We fell in love. You are our son.”

Daniel sat up straighter, looking from one to the other. “For real?”

“For real,” Luke said. “I am your real father. But I didn't know it until I saw you that day in the road.”

“Why didn't you tell him about me, Mom?”

“Don't blame your mother. I went away. She didn't
know where I was. She married Mr. Wakefield, and you were told he was your father.”

“But why? Why did you leave her and not tell her where you were going?”

“It's not that simple, but that's a story for another day.”

“So that's why our eyes are just alike,” Daniel said in a low, awed tone. “Everybody says so. And our hair's even the same color. But I'm not as tall as you.”

“Yet. You're only five, so you'll probably grow.”

“Really? So, I'll grow big and tall…just like you?”

“Maybe even taller. But only if you keep eating your spinach soufflé.”

“Yuck.”

“When I found out about you, I thought we should become a family. Your mother agreed. So here we are.”

“And that's the secret?”

“That's it.”

“Now can I eat my chocolate mousse?”

“You've been very patient. I believe you've earned it.”

“Will chocolate mousse make me grow tall?”

“Not nearly so tall as spinach soufflé,” Luke said, chuckling as he rumpled Daniel's hair.

“That's not fair!”

When Daniel sprinted ahead of them to the kitchen, Luke looked at Caitlyn, whose chest felt unbearably tight. So many things in life weren't fair, she thought.

“Well, I thought that went rather well,” he said, sounding pleased.

“I suppose.” Her voice was barely audible, and she couldn't meet his eyes.

“So, why the long face?” he whispered, concern in his low tone.

“I'm cold. Let's go in.”

“Right. Let's not talk about all the elephants in the room.”

She frowned. Why did she feel like her life was spinning out of control? Why couldn't she stop thinking about the beautiful house Luke had visited with Teresa?

Why couldn't she believe Luke when he said he wanted to make their marriage work? Why was it easier to believe the vicious taunts of strangers?

 

“Surprise!”

Caitlyn, who'd been expecting another intimate dinner party on Hassan's plump sofas, gasped. Rather than something sparkly, for a party, she wore the simple off-the-shoulder black sheath that had been her wedding dress with a string of pearls.

When the huge throng of well-wishers in black ties and evening gowns advanced, she froze in the doorway until Luke gently nudged her forward.

A man at the back of the crowd tapped his champagne glass. “Congratulations are in order!”

“A toast! Hassan! A toast to your son, the bridegroom, and his bride.”

When dozens of people lifted their champagne glasses, Caitlyn swayed dizzily against Luke.

Hassan rushed forward, took her hand to steady her and said something in flowing Arabic that Caitlyn could only suppose was a toast. When he finished, he drained his glass and threw it at the marble fireplace, smashing it into gleaming shards that caught the light from the lamps and shot golden rays of fire. Everybody else drank to the toast and broke their glasses, too.

More crystal flutes were brought on silver trays, and
soon the glittering crowd surrounded them, clamoring to be introduced to Raffi's bride.

“So glad to meet you,” each said in turn, pressing her hand until her fingers hurt. Thankfully, most of their conversation was directed toward Luke, whom they knew.

“So surprised when we heard Raffi got married.”

“Wonderful of Hassan to throw this party so we could meet you, love.”

“We thought he'd never—”

“So many different women. And all of them so beautiful,” one man said into her ear. “But you are the fairest of all.”

“I'm sure,” Caitlyn whispered, wishing with all her heart that she was.

“Still, you'll need to keep an eye on him, young lady,” the man's wife warned.

Finally, after she'd been introduced to everyone—lords, ladies, film people, businessmen and their wives—Luke left her with Hassan, saying he'd bring her a plate of food. But a bony, birdlike woman with a teased puff of red hair pounced on Hassan immediately, saying she had something very important she simply had to tell him.

“Just for a bit, my dear. I won't keep him long.”

“Gossip, no doubt, knowing Marie.” Hassan winked.

Caitlyn said she didn't mind in the least and was stranded alone on the edge of the party. For a second or two she felt conspicuous and uneasy, but she wasn't alone for long.

Arm in arm, both of them smiling at each other and then at her, Nico and Regina strolled over. Then Luke appeared with plates of sushi.

Immediately, Caitlyn relaxed. If Regina could trans
form herself into a princess and manage a difficult royal mother-in-law, there was hope for Caitlin, too.

“Where's Daniel tonight?” Regina asked.

“We have a new nanny.”

Several pleasant moments of conversation about Glory's mischievous antics and the details of their meeting with the new teacher ensued. Caitlyn was laughing when the front door opened and a flash of shimmering white drew her attention to a lovely blonde.

A hush fell over the crowd. Beside her, Luke stiffened as if he'd been struck a blow.

“Oh, no,” Regina whispered, touching Nico's arm. “It's Teresa. What's she doing here?”

The wild-eyed girl stared at Luke and then at Caitlyn for a moment that seemed to stretch endlessly. For that lifetime, it was as if they were the only three people in the room.

The girl was radiantly beautiful, but her lavender eyes held poignant desolation. Caitlyn felt both jealousy and sorrow as the girl took one faltering step toward Luke before losing her nerve. Perhaps she remembered that she hadn't been invited. She flushed. Then with a little cry, she turned and fled.

“Excuse me,” Luke whispered before rushing to Teresa's side and ushering her back out the door, which closed behind them.

“Poor thing,” a woman standing nearby said to her companion. “Everybody knows she's the one he really loves.”

Pain stabbed Caitlyn like an ice pick to her heart. For a moment, she found it difficult to breathe.

“Why would you say that when he married Caitlyn?”

“Because I always thought they made a gorgeous
couple. Teresa is so refined. She comes from such wonderful people. He bought the house he intended for her.”

Caitlyn's confidence drained away.

“You can't believe everything you read.”

“Well, what could a horse trainer from Texas and a man like our Luke possibly have in common? And her dreadful accent.” The woman laughed. “Did you speak to her?”

Caitlyn lifted her head and tried to pretend she hadn't heard.

“You mustn't worry what other people think. Or about Teresa showing up uninvited to attract Luke's attention,” Regina said gently. “Sometimes it's difficult for the young and beautiful to accept the ending of a relationship they've set their hearts on. She was so sure of him.”

Because he'd made her feel secure in his love?

Caitlyn nodded mutely. She understood Teresa's pain too well. At nineteen she'd felt sure of his love, too. Then he'd left without saying goodbye.

In less than five minutes, the door opened again, and Luke strode back inside—alone. He was pale and tense, but he caught Caitlyn's eye and went immediately to her side.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered tightly against her ear. When he touched her arm, she stepped away from him.

“It's okay,” she said. But she didn't feel okay. She felt unsure.

Even though she tried to avoid his touch, he tucked her hand into his and brought it to his lips. “I think she's on the road to accepting our marriage.”

Caitlyn bit her lips. What about Luke? What did he feel? Even though he stayed at her side for most of the
evening and acted the part of a very devoted bridegroom, the party celebrating their marriage had been spoiled. At least for Caitlyn, who kept seeing the beautiful, brokenhearted Teresa searching a sea of faces only to find Caitlyn at Luke's side. Caitlyn kept seeing Luke running after Teresa. He'd put his hand on the girl's spine as he'd ushered her outside. The girl obviously adored him and was so exquisitely beautiful.

Later, when Luke left her to talk to Hassan, Caitlyn overheard snatches of furtively whispered conversations that tore her heart into more pieces.

“I hear he married her in Vegas. You can be sure his wedding to Teresa would have been a grand affair.”

Luke said the press coverage didn't matter, but these people were his friends. It was obvious that they believed Teresa was the right bride for Luke. They knew him, didn't they?

Luke tried to talk to her on the way home, but she turned away and kept her face pressed against the glass of the limousine. When they had undressed and were in bed, he tried to pull her close, but she shook him off, saying she had a headache.

“That's the oldest excuse in the book,” he teased, running the pad of his thumb down her spine and causing her to shiver.

“Please—just leave me alone,” she whispered even as she began to ache for him.

The thumb followed the same tingling path back up to her neck. “Are you upset because of Teresa?”

“No,” she lied.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No! I don't want to talk! I want to go to sleep. I'm tired. I'm not in the mood.”

“Maybe I could persuade you to be in the mood,” he said huskily. “I'm very good at that, you know.”

His hand slid against her spine again, and she felt a familiar frisson of electricity.

“I said no,” she whispered desperately.

She knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't stop herself. She wanted him to hold her and reassure her. She wanted him to make wild, passionate love to her, and yet…and yet she kept remembering Teresa, so she pushed him away.

Yes, she was jealous of the beautiful young girl who had loved and lost him. He'd once said Teresa was perfect, and those other women concurred. Such a woman would be better suited to the role of a billionaire's wife than she, who was homesick for her ranch and horses, who sometimes felt she would never fit in here.