The Price of Honor (13 page)

Her entire body went rigid. Then his mouth replaced the ice, his oh-so-talented
hot
mouth. Her hands clutched the sheets. Climax bunched inside her, twisting, tightening, building. She fought it. She couldn't let him win. And then,
despite her struggle, it broke free, undulating through her in uncontrollable spasms of ecstasy.

“Do you wish me to stop,
mon amante?
”

“No. Please don't. Oh, Xavier. I need you inside me.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Not yet. But soon.”

He reached toward the ice bucket on the bedside table and extracted another cube.

And Megan groaned in defeat. Any strategy she'd had to keep her emotional distance from him tonight had melted faster than the ice with which he'd tormented her. She'd try again tomorrow. Because tonight he'd annihilated her strategy.

 

Home at last.

Megan dropped her suitcase inside the cottage foyer Sunday evening and sagged against the closed door. Every muscle in her body whimpered with exhaustion.

After two nights of making love with Xavier and three days of pretending it—
he
—didn't matter, all she wanted was to crawl into a hole and pull the dirt in on top of her. Especially after last night when he'd totally defeated her with orgasm after orgasm.

He'd broken her. Made her beg. And afterward he'd held her. And she'd cried in his arms. Cried, damn it. She didn't think he'd noticed. But she knew. That's what mattered. She'd silently cried for what they'd had. And what they'd lost. Then he'd slept in her bed, destroying her intention of tending her wounds in private.

Her stomach growled, but she had no energy to prepare a meal. For the baby's sake she would force down a banana and a glass of milk, but what she truly craved was a hot shower and bed. She headed toward the bathroom. A knock on the front door stopped her short of her goal. Groaning, she considered ignoring it. But she hadn't turned the lock.
If it was Xavier, he'd just barge in. At least if she answered, she stood a chance of keeping him outside.

Pasting a smile on her face, she backtracked and opened the door. Hannah stood on the front mat, her arms loaded. “Whoa, that's your I'll-be-nice-to-you-even-if-it-kills-me smile. What's wrong?”

Her cousin read her too well. Most people fell for the mask. Megan's tense muscles uncoiled. “I'm just tired.”

“I brought some of Nellie's Cajun fettuccini Alfredo. Does bringing dinner buy me entry?” She offered a casserole dish.

Megan's mouth watered as she took it. For Nellie's cooking she'd delay her shower. “You know it. Lock the door behind you.”

“Oookay.” The way she stretched the word revealed Hannah knew Megan never locked her doors, but then growing up in the country meant they hadn't needed to. Hannah dropped the oversize clothing bag she had draped over her arm on a chair along with a large shopping bag and followed Megan to the kitchen. “How was your weekend?”

Megan set the dish on the table, grateful she'd removed her sticky notes from the fridge. “None of the horses placed, but Tim did a great job considering it was his first big show. He didn't crack under the pressure. He only had eight faults on Apollo and—”

“I wasn't asking about the horses or Tim, Megs.”

Megan hid a grimace behind the open cabinet door. “Are you joining me?”

“Absolutely. Wyatt's out of town and Nellie has her book club meeting tonight, so it's just us girls.” Hannah peeled back the foil covering their dinner and the delicious aroma made Megan's stomach rumble with anticipation. “Ohmigod, this smells heavenly. How was your time with Xavier?”

“Are you trying to kill my appetite? Nellie's feelings will be hurt if there are leftovers.” She carried the plates and utensils to the table.

“She'll never know. I'll leave the evidence here. Spill it.”

Megan didn't want to worry Hannah, but her cousin could be stubborn when she set her mind to something, and she'd obviously decided she couldn't live without the details of Megan's weekend.

“We're sleeping together.”

“Why doesn't that sound like good news?”

“Because it isn't. Exactly. He thinks our relationship is all about the sex. I decided the only way to prove he's wrong is by giving him sex and only sex. No cuddles. No shared breakfasts in bed. No talking over coffee or nightcaps. I'll withhold everything that isn't directly related to physical gratification.”

Hannah's brow pleated and worry darkened her eyes. “That's…an unusual strategy. I know I suggested you show him what you could give him that his fiancée can't, but…I don't know about this, Megan. It could backfire in a big way.”

As it had last night. She'd never been more sexually sated in her life, nor more emotionally empty than after that marathon session.

“I'm aware of the risks, but it's the best approach I could come up with. It'll work. If not, like you said, what do I have to lose?” If she had any luck at all, Hannah would fall for her blasé tone. She scooped a portion of pasta onto her plate and picked up her fork, hoping to end the conversation. “So…enough talk. Let's eat. There's a hot shower waiting with my name on it.”

Hannah paused with her fork just shy of her mouth.
“Well…after we're done I have another favor to ask. If you're up for it.”

Uh-oh. At the moment solitude was the only thing that appealed. “What?”

“I brought my mother's wedding dress with me. I was hoping to try it on and get your opinion.”

Megan's heart twinged a little. She couldn't be happier for Hannah, but it hurt to know that unless things changed she would never be trying on wedding dresses. However, she refused to be a killjoy. She reached across the table and squeezed Hannah's hand. “I would love to see you in your mother's dress. I remember how much we used to beg to play dress-up in it.”

Hannah's smile was a little sad. “And she always said, ‘Your day will come.' And now it has.”

They made quick work of dinner, staying away from the topic of Xavier, thank heaven, then returned to the den. Hannah unzipped the long garment bag and extracted the lavish, full-skirted lace gown.

Megan's breath caught. She stroked her hand over the delicate fabric. “There's something special about older wedding gowns that today's modern mass-produced ones just don't have.”

“I agree.” Hannah looked a little misty-eyed. “And I can't imagine wearing anything else.”

Even if Xavier came to his senses, there would be no vintage gown for Megan. Her mother hadn't had a wedding dress. Because her paternal grandparents had disapproved of their younger son's relationship with a lowly cocktail waitress, her mom and dad had eloped and returned home with the legalities a done deal. Her father's family—especially Uncle Luthor—had never forgiven them.

Hannah's mother had been the only family member who hadn't made Megan and her mom feel like outcasts. In fact,
she'd insisted Megan join Hannah's riding lessons and had spent hours coaching the girls herself. Hannah's mom had claimed helping Megan was the least she could do since Megan's father had introduced her to her husband.

Hannah grabbed Megan's hand. “Megs, I want you to be my maid of honor.”

Megan's heart took another roller-coaster plunge. “Are you sure? I mean I'll be…” She mimed a bulging belly.

“Of course I'm sure. There's no one more important to me. Besides, there are no rules prohibiting pregnant bridesmaids. Even if there were, I'd break 'em.”

“Then I'd be honored.”

“That means helping me pick out the announcements and stuff. It won't be all fun and bachelorette parties.”

“I can handle it.” Tears threatened to choke her. Darn these pregnancy hormones. “Now, stop talking and try on this dress. I can't wait to see you in it.”

Hannah grinned and shed her clothing then reached for the gown. Megan helped her get the garment over her head.

“Turn around. Let me do the buttons.” She slipped the satin-covered buttons through the loops wishing their mothers could have been here for this, but as with most of their milestones she and Hannah had only had each other. “Done.”

Hannah swept her hands over the full skirt and twirled so that it belled around her.

“Gorgeous. You look like a princess.”

“Y'think? I probably won't wear Mom's long veil because we'd like to get married at the boathouse and I'm afraid it might snag on the dock.”

“The boathouse is kinda small—not much room for guests.”

“Yes, but it has special meaning.”

“Because that's where you and your mom always went to celebrate every new beginning and every ending?”

A secret smile danced across Hannah's lips. “Among other things. It's the place where Wyatt and I first made lo—”

Megan stuck her fingers in her ears. “La la la. I don't want to know.” Then, all kidding aside, she looked at the dress and at Hannah's radiant face. “It's perfect. It doesn't even need to be altered to fit you.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

“Wyatt and I want a small, intimate ceremony with just my dad, Nellie, Wyatt's stepfather and you as witnesses. Then we'll have a grand reception on the lawn for the Sutherland Farm employees and any others on the must-invite list. If we have it here, any staff members who are scheduled to work that Saturday can slip in for a bit. That means the attire for the reception will be casual. And if it rains we can set up in the indoor riding arena.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Now for your bridesmaid dress, what color do you think you'd—”

A knock on the front door interrupted—a firm, no-nonsense pounding that told Megan who was on the other side even before the knob rattled.

Megan's muscles tensed. “Thank heaven you locked the door.”

“Xavier?”

Megan nodded.

“Sweetie, my car is outside and every light in the house is on. Even with the curtains closed, he'll know we're here. You can't run away from this. You're going to have to let him in. But I have your back, okay? And we'll get rid of him fast. We have a wedding to plan.”

Megan's heart slid to her boots. She was so not ready to face Xavier again—especially not now when in all likelihood his bride-to-be was at home choosing a wedding dress of her own.

 

The weekend had been less than satisfactory. Xavier fumed silently as he stood on Megan's porch. He had expected the horse show to make her realize that she could not keep the child and compete.

Rather than yearning for the ring, she had used the time she usually spent focused on him or her mounts talking to equestrians with small children. She had not mentioned her pregnancy to anyone in his presence, but had instead explored the logistics of having a nanny.

She was not going to relinquish their baby easily. He should admire her for that. But that meant he had to employ an alternative strategy—one that would complicate his life.

He pounded on the door again, and when she didn't answer immediately, he grasped the knob. It did not turn. The fact that she had chosen to heed his advice and start locking her door now that he needed to speak to her magnified his irritation.

He heard footsteps inside, then the door opened a few inches. Megan's unwelcoming face appeared in the breach. “I'm busy here, Xavier. What do you want?”

Not the reception he had anticipated. Particularly after last night's combustive sex. But he would not be sent away like an annoying child. He flattened his palm on the wood and pushed his way into the foyer. Yes, he was being obnoxious, but Megan was playing games. Games he did not like. And she was forcing him to compromise—something he liked even less.

“You left while I was on the phone.”

“There was no reason to stay, and I wanted to get home and have my shower.”

“We could have showered together. You know how much you enjoy my touch when I wash your—”

“Ahem.”
The sound of a feminine voice clearing snatched his attention to the den. Megan's cousin stood in the adjoining room. Wearing a wedding dress. “Hello, Xavier.”

The words did not sound hospitable in the least.

“Good evening, Hannah.” He turned a questioning glance to Megan.

“Like I said, I'm busy.”

“I will take you to dinner when you finish with…this.” He indicated the dress with a flick of his wrist. “I've eaten.”

She would not dismiss him so easily. “I must speak to you. Tonight. I will wait.” He entered the den and planted himself on the sofa.

Megan remained in the foyer with her hand on the doorknob. “Xavier—”

“It's okay, Megan,” her cousin interrupted in a singsong voice that did not bode well. “Xavier has a wedding of his own to plan, and it will do him good to suffer through our little exercise tonight. Men have absolutely no concept of how much work and planning it takes to pull together even the simplest of ceremonies.”

The women exchanged a long look, which he could not decipher, then with an aggrieved expression, Megan swung the door closed. “If you insist on staying, you should know this could take a while.”

He shrugged. “I have nowhere else to be tonight since I had anticipated spending it with you.” He turned to the bride-to-be. “If it is so important that the man be involved why is your fiancé not here?”

“He's not supposed to see me in the dress, and he's letting Megan, Nellie and me arrange some of the small details since he swears all that matters is that the
right people
are taking the vows.”

He accepted the dig in silence. The cousin had an ax to grind—one she would prefer to bury in his back, he suspected. “Wise of him to let the women handle the preparations.”

He was only throwing fuel on the fire, and the reddening of Hannah's cheeks confirmed he had scored. But he did not mind riling Megan's cousin. He suspected Hannah had something to do with Megan's odd behavior of late.