California Caress - Page 66

“Yes,” he conceded, with a nod and a calculating smile.

“Yet,” she said cautiously, feeling as though she’d been caught between a rock and a hungry wolf. This man had stolen Drake’s fiancée out from under his nose. Hope didn’t know why, but instinctively she knew that he was going to try and do the same thing with her.

Should I let him? she wondered as they lapped into an uneasy silence. She remembered all too clearly how Drake had hung on every word that flowed from Angelique’s lips. A stab of jealousy pierced her heart. While she harbored nothing but disgust for this caricature of Drake, she was also finding it difficult not to throw Drake’s callous treatment of her back in his face.

It would serve the gunslinger right to see that someone else could actually be attracted to her, Hope thought with a satisfied grin. It didn’t matter that Charles was forcing himself to feign attraction. The means would suit the end.

A few more couples drifted onto the dance floor. She eyed them warily, noticing how each one looked quickly away whenever her gaze met theirs.

“Is it stuffy in here?” she asked suddenly. The cloying smell of flowery perfume and spicy male cologne seemed to be pressing in on her from all sides.

“I hadn’t noticed.” The crystal blue eyes narrowed on her, and she could see that Charles wasn’t fooled for a minute. He was also more than willing to play the game. “Would you care to step outside for a bit of air? The garden is quite lovely this time of year. The roses died with the first frost, but it’s still filled with delectable surprises. You really should see it.”

Hope nodded, letting herself be guided from the dance floor. She wasn’t entirely sure she’d made the right decision in indicating a wish to see the gardens. But one thing she was sure—she couldn’t stand another moment of twirling through the stilted steps of a dance with a man she abhorred, all the while wondering what Drake and Angelique were doing!

Chapter 17

Charles was right. Although a goodly portion of the flowers had faded with the passing of autumn, the colorful, leafy shrubs so artfully arranged were really quite beautiful. The air snapped with the beginnings of a winter chill as the light of a crescent moon glittered over the winding paths. By the time Hope had seen her fiftieth bare rosebush, her twentieth petunia stalk, and her thirtieth withered violet, she was ready to pluck each shrub where they stood. Drake and Angelique were nowhere to be seen.

Charles hesitated beside a whitewashed, wrought iron bench almost buried amidst leafy ivy. His hands were clasped behind his broad back, and his dark blond hair shimmered in the pale moonlight. For a second, he looked remarkably like his brother. Then he turned. One glance at his cold blue eyes dispelled the image.

He seemed to have forgotten there were no slippers on her feet to protect them from the branches and stones littering the paths. Hope’s stinging soles had not. For the last half hour she had dogged this man’s footsteps, the whole time wondering if his elaborately roundabout route was not purposely devised to keep her away from whatever area he presumed his brother and wife to be in. Now she was sure that was his motive. His easy acceptance of the pair’s absence was exactly that—too easy.

“It appears they’ve wandered farther than the gardens,” he said, eloquently stating the obvious as he gestured Hope toward the bench. His liquor-soaked breath fogged the air. “Shall we sit and enjoy the quiet awhile before returning?”

“No, thank you,” she declined with a forced smile. She eyed the bench, but staunchly refused to approach it. Though the seat was a tempting respite for her aching feet, it wasn’t tempting enough to risk spending any more time alone in Charles Frazier’s company than was necessary. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your guests?”

“They can wait,” he scoffed with a casual wave of his hand. His icy gaze settled on her creamy flesh where it swelled beneath the rosy satin neckline. “It isn’t often I’m honored by moonlight, and a beautiful woman,” he added suggestively.

Hope shivered, ignoring the compliment, as well as the insinuation. “You forget, I’ve met your wife,” she countered pointedly. The muscle returned to twitch beneath his eye. “I’d think you were used to both by now.”

Again the hands were clasped behind his suddenly rigid back. “Ah, very good, Hope. Spoken like a true jealous wife. Perhaps I underestimated your feelings for my brother.”

And perhaps not, Hope added to herself. “That’s none of your business,” she snapped, dearly wishing she hadn’t given in to her curiosity and taken Charles up on his offer to stroll the moonswept gardens. “Unless you can find a more congenial topic, I’ll be forced to return inside.”

Her heart skipped a beat, then pounded frantically when a cold, malicious sneer curled his lips. Belatedly, she realized her mistake. His words, uttered in a tone close to boredom, confirmed it. “I do hope you can pick your way back alone then, dearest sister-in-law. I fear I’m enjoying the fresh air and moonlight too much to return just yet.”

Frantically, her thoughts circled back over the many twisting paths that had led them this far. Not only couldn’t she recall which paths led where, but she was also becoming aware of the chirping crickets, croaking bull frogs—and total absence of music. If the strains of the orchestra could not reach them here, then it stood to reason that her screams of panic would not reach the house. But she wouldn’t panic, Hope commanded herself. To do so would be a fatal mistake.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she jeered. Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared angrily into the glint of satisfaction shimmering in his eyes. “What was your plan in luring me out here, Charles Frazier? To keep me away long enough for Drake to suspect—? It doesn’t matter.” She tapped her toe on the dry leaves in aggravation. Her thoughts drifted to the scar lining her back and she wondered what this man’s reaction to it would be. Instinctively, she knew it would be disgust. “Whatever your plan, it won’t work. He knows me well enough to know my morals aren’t that loose.”

“He thought the same about Angelique,” Charles took great pleasure in reminding her as he took a threatening step forward, “and look what happened there.”

“I’m not Angelique,” she countered, with a quick step back. She was ready to bolt back into the thick of the garden. “My head isn’t turned by sugary words and false attention.”

“No?” Half the distance between them was closed in one long stride. “Then what would it take to turn that pretty little head?”

“Your brother.”

He reached out and clamped a fierce hand on her shoulder as she turned to flee. Abruptly, Hope was swung back to face him.

“Afraid you’re twenty years too late for that,” he said, his tone light. Too light, she thought. “Angelique set her sights on Drake when she was eight. Having him has been her single-minded pursuit in life, a pursuit that was delayed a bit when we married. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve yet to see my wife denied anything she wants. She would never tolerate it.” The fingers tightened, biting painfully into her shoulder. “Have no doubts, Mrs. Frazier. If Angelique wants your husband back, she will get him. There’s nothing you can do to stop her.”

She tried to shake off his hand. It didn’t work. “I won’t have to. I have faith in my husband, sir, and because of that faith, I think he’ll see her manipulations for what they are. Drake’s no fool. He won’t be so easily duped a second time.”

“No?” Charles asked slyly. “I don’t agree. My wife can be very persuasive. By now she probably has your husband convinced I forced her to marry me. It wouldn’t surprise me to find them locked in a lover’s embrace beneath one of these rosebushes.”

One dark brow rose in challenge as Hope finally succeeded in pushing his hand away. “And did you?” she countered. “Force her to marry you? It’s the only reason I can think of for a woman to leave a man like Drake for a man like you. And if you really think they are low enough to be rolling beneath rosebushes, I say we should take a look around and see. Or doesn’t your confidence extend that far?”

Tags: Rebecca Sinclair Historical
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