Darkness Before the Dawn (Maggie Bennett 2) - Page 67

“Happy ending indeed,” Randall said cynically. “How long do you think their marriage will last?”

“You underestimate my sister, Randall, and you underestimate Caleb,” she said in an even voice. “This is happy ever after.”

“Sure it is, Maggie. I don’t underestimate them; I simply don’t believe in happy endings and true love.”

She looked up at him. “Message received. Over and out.” And she turned away from him to watch her mother.

“Don’t turn away from me, Maggie,” he said, his hand on her arm. “I need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead.”

“In private.” He pulled her, and she resisted for a moment.

“We don’t really have anything to say to each other in private, do we?” she countered, a thin note of bitterness in her voice.

“Maybe we do.” He pulled again, and this time she went, following him into her mother’s deserted bedroom.

He shut the door behind them, and Maggie took the moment to pull away from him. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in a defiant attitude. “Talk away, Randall,” she offered.

Instead of answering, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. She fought for a moment, for an angry, hurt instant, and then she melted into him, opening her mouth beneath his insistent kiss, ignoring the common sense that told her this was useless.

“Maggie, I need you,” he whispered against her hair. “You can’t even begin to know how much. You’re a rare and precious jewel, and I’ve been obsessed with you for six endless years. I can’t let you leave me again.” His mouth caught hers again before she could reply, sweeping away her defenses and doubts. She drew her hands up between them, feeling the heat of his chest through the thin linen shirt. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the buttons, wanting the feel of his flesh against her, wanting to lose herself in the mindless pleasure he could give her.

But mindless pleasure wasn’t for her, and Randall Carter wasn’t for her. She pulled away suddenly, and for a moment he clung to her, his fingers possessive and bruising. Then he let her go.

She moved across the room. As he watched her, his breathing was deep and even; only the stormy depths of his eyes betrayed his emotions—emotions Maggie still didn’t quite understand.

She’d give him a chance. “Do you love me, Randall?”

He flinched, and his eyes met hers. “No.”

She nodded, hiding the pain his expected answer gave her. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

“No.” The single word was a sharp death knell in the room. “If I did, Maggie, it would be you.”

She smiled, a wry, accepting smile. “Maybe it would. But that’s not good enough. I’ve been loved the best anyone could ever be loved, Randall. I’m not going to settle for second rate.”

“Second rate?” His eyebrow rose.

“Second rate,” she said firmly. “You want to collect me, like one of your stupid paintings or pieces of jade. And then when you get tired of me, you’d let me go, seek out another acquisition. Wouldn’t you?”

“You might tire of me first,” he said, not denying it.

“Randall,” she said, and her voice was flat and very sure as she lied to him, “I’ve tired of you already.”

She didn’t really expect to fool him, and his expression didn’t change. “Are you trying to tell me something, Maggie?”

“Yes. Good-bye, Randall.”

He smiled then, a small, cynical smile. And then he moved so swiftly, she didn’t have time to dodge. He caught her in his arms, brought his mouth down on hers, and kissed her.

It was a kiss fraught with passion and despair, an ending and a beginning. The thought of resistance never entered her mind. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, answering his mouth and weeping inside.

“Not good-bye, Maggie,” he said softly, “and we both know it.” Then he left her alone in the bedroom looking after him. It was only then that she realized she’d never told him Willis’s confession, never explained her murderous chase over the catwalks. But what, in the long run, did it matter?

“Maggie”—Kate charged into the bedroom—“someone’s on the phone for you. …” Her voice trailed off. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine,” Maggie said, smiling very, very brightly. “Who’s calling for me?”

Tags: Anne Stuart Maggie Bennett Suspense
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