Scarlet Woman (9 page)

“That’s the idea,” he said in approval. His eyes narrowed. Although he was in control of his feline genes, he knew his eyes would glint with gold flecks. Deep in the recesses of his mind, the cat roared, wanting to claim Jo as his mate. Saber wanted that too, but Jo needed more time. There was a wariness about her that warned him not to move too quickly.

Jo rose before impaling herself again at a treacherously slow pace that set the feline on edge. Her head was thrown back, her hair glinting with streaks of gold and red in the sunshine. Her breasts bounced lightly with each move. A growl sounded deep in his chest, taking him by surprise.

“Something wrong?” she demanded with a cheeky grin.

“Yeah, you’re going too slow. I’m going to turn old and gray before I climax. But I’ll go mad first.”

Jo rose and sank back down on his cock, apparently unimpressed by his complaints.

“I could always pull your ears and see how you like that.”

Jo chuckled and gave a cruel flex of her hips. His breath caught, his balls so tight and achy it felt as though fire licked through his veins. Saber rocked upward, a breath hissing through compressed lips.

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“Ah, shit. Someone’s coming,” Saber muttered, catching the foreign sound of footsteps and the slide of a shoe against rock. “And it’s damn well not me.” Frustration coated his rueful words.

“Where?” Emily’s hands flew upward to cover her breasts, then she gasped and one hand returned to cover her groin. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Saber said, lifting her off his body with consummate ease. “Wait there.” He rolled to his feet and strode to the start of the track leading down the hill. Despite discovery being imminent and embarrassment at being caught in the middle of a sexual interlude, she couldn’t help but admire the man’s backside. Her fingers positively itched to touch and fondle. Heck, she even thought about biting, putting her mark on the man. Ooh, possessive. Emily shook her head in wonder. That had sneaked up on her again and was a bit surprising, given her experience with Michael. She didn’t need a man.
But you do need sex.

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered.

“Who are you telling to shut up?” Saber demanded, glancing over his shoulder.

“It’s not polite to eavesdrop when I’m talking to myself. Who’s there? Was it your imagination?”

“No, it’s my brothers,” Saber answered with disgust. “They’re heading this way.”

“But I’ve got no clothes on,” Emily wailed, scrambling to her feet in horror. She grabbed at clothes and struggled to force arms into sleeves. Saber mightn’t worry about being caught with a raging erection, but she didn’t want anyone seeing her naked body again—apart from him.

“Wrong way.” Saber’s mouth quivered in amusement. He sauntered over to her.

“Let me help.” He deftly righted the T-shirt and it fell to her upper thighs.

“Hey, bro. Whatcha doing?” Felix’s eyes held silent approval. Leo cuffed Felix over the shoulder, almost knocking Emily over in the process. Saber grabbed Emily before she fell and growled deep in his throat, but Leo continued 63

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unperturbed despite the menacing rumble. “Stupid question. Easy to see what they’ve been doing.” His interested gaze drifted from his naked brother to her. Emily sidled behind Saber, trying to hide from the glee she saw in his brothers’ faces.

“Go away,” Saber said in a hard voice, seemingly unperturbed by his nakedness. Felix smirked. “We’re not interrupting, are we?”

“Yes,” Saber snarled.

“No,” Emily said at the same time.

Leo closed his right eye in a wink. “That’s what I like to hear. A consensus.”

“I’ll give you a bloody consensus,” Saber said, advancing on his brothers. Leo held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messengers. We came to tell you about the reporter. Just heard she’s rented a cottage on the outskirts of town.”

Saber cursed and stomped over to his clothes. Emily stared, her gaze swinging from brother to brother. She didn’t understand, but clearly the brothers had communicated without saying a word. Emily accepted the pair of sweatpants Saber handed her and turned away to pull them on. Finally, the taut silence got to her. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing to concern yourself about,” Saber said smoothly.

“Are you sure about that, bro?” Felix said, raising his brows in a manner that Emily could only call smart-ass.

She sat down and shoved her feet into the socks and boots, trying to puzzle it all out. Why were they so worried about the reporter? All she wanted was a story. The cats were real. She’d seen them. Where was the harm in confirming black panthers lived in Middlemarch?

“Why don’t you give her the story she wants so she’ll go away?”

Three pairs of green eyes seared her with varying expressions, but one thing common to all was distaste.

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“We don’t want the cats locked up in a zoo,” Saber said, his tone terse as he spoke for them all. “We don’t want to talk to her because when she publishes her story, other reporters will come. Television crews. Talk-show hosts. It will be never-ending.”

Emily shrugged, a little hurt because of his harsh attitude but determined to hide it. She had no right to put forward an opinion. Saber was right. This wasn’t anything to do with her. Michael had always told her she didn’t know anything since she spent all day at home doing housework.

After lacing his boots, Saber gestured to his brothers. They nodded and left them alone. He closed the distance between them and smoothed a lock of hair from her eyes.

“I’m sorry. The cats have lived around here for generations. My family and the other families who moved here from Scotland made a pact to keep them secret. There’s an old legend the people of Middlemarch tell their children. When the cats leave, bad luck will befall the town.”

Interest stirred. “Did the cats come from Scotland or were they here before the settlers arrived?”

“The settlers brought them.”

“And the legend—do you believe it?”

Saber’s green eyes glinted with gold as he stared at her. “Yes,” he said finally. “We all believe, which is why we’re giving the reporter the run-around.”

“Okay,” Emily said. It was obvious the local people had strong feelings about the cats. “She won’t hear anything from me.”

Saber nodded and stood back to let her walk down the track in front of him. Emily navigated the steep track with care. The whole situation was weird, she decided, after worrying the facts in her mind. If the cats were so secret, why had they wandered into the bedroom this morning parading in front of a stranger? And what were they doing inside the house? Points to ponder.

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The drive back to the house was a contemplative one, both of them deep in thought. Saber pulled up outside the house. “I need to make a couple of phone calls before I take you to see Charlotte. We’ll find out about the job today.”

“You were serious?” Emily blurted, tipping her face to the side so she could see him clearly.

“Of course.” Saber seemed surprised, and his reaction warmed Emily through. The thought of being needed was a heady sensation and almost as good as making love with Saber. Emily frowned at the thought. Should she be thinking about the man like this? She’d thought the world of Michael, and he’d kicked her in the teeth. His actions had sucked every bit of self-belief and confidence in her natural instincts away, making Emily constantly second-guess her thoughts and actions. Buying tickets to the Middlemarch dance had been a step into the unknown. A sigh ghosted from her as she tried to remind herself she was staying strictly for the awesome sex. Yep, strictly the sex.

Emily glanced down at her borrowed clothes and scowled. “I can’t go to an interview like this. I look like a ragamuffin. What will your friend think?”

Saber’s gaze traveled leisurely down her body and back up again. “You look fine to me. Besides, Charlotte won’t mind.”

“I mind,” Emily said, making her voice firm. “Is there somewhere I can buy some clothes?”

“The local store has basics, but most people shop in Dunedin for clothes. Our nextdoor neighbor Jenny will lend you something.”

“But she doesn’t know me,” Emily said faintly.

“This is the country. Jenny won’t mind.”

* * * * *

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Saber pulled his SUV up outside a stone building made from the local schist. A wooden sign hung from sturdy chains near the entrance, proclaiming that the café was called Storm in a Teacup.

Middlemarch wasn’t a large town, but Saber had given her a guided tour on the way in, pointing out several motels and bed-and-breakfast places along with the local petrol station and garage. Emily had seen the railway station in full daylight—a smart white building with red doors and green window shutters. In the nearby reserve, a group of men were laboring to dismantle the marquee where the dance had been held. Further down the road was the local pub, which did a roaring trade on the weekends, according to Saber, but was quieter during the week.

“This is Charlotte’s café,” Saber said. “She’s open for breakfast, lunch and dinner, which is why she’s having such a hard time. She doesn’t want to close and disappoint her customers.”

Emily nodded, feeling anxious, and yet, a little excited, too. She smoothed the fabric of her borrowed black skirt, wiping her moist palms at the same time. Her faint reply was lost in the rumble of a large red tractor. It chugged down the main street and parked outside the small grocery shop that doubled as the post office. Emily shook her head, smiling slightly. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the varied farm machinery that shared the roads with cars and trucks. And bicycles. Emily had noticed there were lots of cyclists, and when she’d commented on it, Saber had said it was mainly tourists who were cycling the Otago Rail Trail. There was a bicycle stand outside the café with four dusty mountain bikes parked in it—the modern equivalent of horses and hitching posts, Emily thought with a grin. Saber ushered her inside. Several of the tables were occupied, and Emily noticed some of the people were sending anxious looks toward the kitchen and checking their watches.

“Charlotte is probably in the kitchen. We’ll go through.”

“Hey, Charlotte. This is Jo Scarlet, the chef I rang you about.”

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“Hi, Jo.” Charlotte extended her left hand for Emily to shake since her right was encased in plaster and held tight to her chest in a sling. The white sling was peppered with splotches of tomato sauce and sprinkled with what looked like coffee grinds. Charlotte’s forehead was crinkled and her blonde hair stuck up at the back as if she’d repeatedly run her good hand through it. In short, she seemed harassed. A young girl who Emily decided was in her late teens, hurried into the kitchen.

“The people at table four want to know how long their meal will be.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Charlotte said, her voice only a shade away from testy.

“I only have one hand. Offer them a free glass of wine or a hot drink and tell them it will only be a few more minutes.”

The girl nodded and left the kitchen, the spring door swishing after her.

“Charlotte, why don’t you let Jo do it for you?” Saber asked. “Just tell her what you want. That way you can see if she’ll suit as your relief while you recuperate.”

“I have to admit, I’m not doing a very good job,” Charlotte said with a rueful sigh.

“Would you be willing to take over right now?”

This was moving so fast. Emily hesitated, shifting from foot to foot while the two friends waited for her decision. Becoming involved in cooking again sounded like fun. Temptation tickled through her. What did she have to go back to in Dunedin? Michael’s family who, although she loved them to bits, were likely to shun her at the moment and an empty house were her only options. Her best friend wasn’t talking to her. If she returned home, she’d rattle around in the empty house. This would be a new start, a chance to get back to the workforce and start over doing something she loved—being a chef. And the fact that Saber was here didn’t hurt any…

“I’ll do it,” Emily said. “What do you want me to do first?”

“Here’s the order.” Charlotte pointed to the white slip of paper clipped up above a stainless worktable. “Two Greek salads, a soup of the day and one roast pepper and ricotta loaf. Saber, grab the chef’s tunic from behind that door, will you?” Charlotte continued to explain the menu and showed Emily where she kept everything. Emily 68

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washed her hands and rolled up the sleeves of her borrowed blouse. As she listened to Charlotte’s instructions, she put on the white hip-length tunic and buttoned it up. Between them, they assembled the starters for table four. The waitress came and collected them to deliver to the diners, leaving Charlotte to run through the main courses.

“Charlotte, you’ll make Jo nervous if you continue to hover like that. Why don’t we have a coffee out in the garden and leave her to it. Jo will call you if she has a problem. Right, Jo?”

Emily nodded, her mind already on the main courses and what she needed to cook.

“Sure. I’ll shout if I have a problem.”

The waitress hustled in with an order for afternoon tea. Scones with jam and cream.

“I’ll drive you back to Dunedin later this evening to collect your clothes,” Saber said. “We’ll leave you to it. Charlotte, I’ll grab us a table out in the garden. I’ll have my usual.” He brushed a kiss over Emily’s lips, nodded to the young waitress and strode off whistling.

Emily stared after him, bemused by his casual affection. And in public. A slow smile bloomed before reverting to a grimace. He was also taking charge of her life. If she was to stay, she’d have to find somewhere else to live—space to think and adjust. The idea of stepping from one controlling relationship to another was abhorrent. Although Saber seemed different from Michael, Emily needed to be one hundred percent certain of her place in a relationship before she let it advance to something more permanent.

“I’ve always liked Saber,” Charlotte said. “About time he settled down.”