Lullaby and Goodnight Page 12

  “I’m not sure it’s relevant,” Karen whispered. “But one of my jewelry boxes has been switched.”

  “Switched?” Rafe didn’t understand. He looked at Rhianna and she shook her head, indicating she didn’t understand, either. But she leaned forward, even putting her hand on Rafe’s shoulder to steady herself and listen. It was the first time Rhianna had voluntarily touched him since he’d confessed to the bargain he had made with her father. Perhaps she’d eventually forgive him.

  “I went to the bank and inventoried my jewelry. Every ring had a box, but one of them was in an older box, instead of the newer ones the store switched to last year.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Very. I kept meticulous track of every piece of jewelry. It was the only thing in my name. It was my running-away money. The judge never really wanted me to have it. But he had to show off his wealth. And men like him are expected to buy their wives expensive—”

  “I understand,” Rafe said with a frown as another thought occurred to him. “When did the judge last have access to your vault?”

  “He never did. The box must have been switched when I wore the ring.”

  “Can you remember when that was?”

  “I’m sorry, no. I just didn’t notice until you asked. Am I helping any?”

  “I don’t know. But I appreciate the information. Thank you.” Rafe hung up the phone, discouraged. Each of their suspects could have sent Rhianna the jewelry box. Duncan Phillips, Rhianna’s ex-boyfriend, claimed he’d crushed his box and replaced it with a new one which the jewelry store verified. Janet Stone never saved hers. And now the judge’s ex-wife claimed she was missing one ring box.

  Judge Stuart could have a motive—if he’d hatched the entire scheme because he wanted the ranch. Rafe thought it more likely that Duncan Phillips wanted Rhianna back and would do whatever it took to force her to come to him. Rafe had yet to figure out a motive for the Stones to have been behind the kidnapping, except for one; because of the money crunch, Hal and Janet were buying foals that Rafe hadn’t wanted to sell.

  Rhianna sighed. “I feel as if we’re running in circles. I wonder if we’ll ever know who kidnapped me.”

  Rafe ached to take her into his arms and reassure her with a hug, but he sensed she wouldn’t accept comfort from him. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Dad would have let me know if the FBI had come up with anything. However, keep in mind that the kidnappers got what they wanted—the money. You and Allison should be safe now.”

  Rhianna rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Then why don’t I feel safe? Why do I feel as if I’m being watched?”

  Rafe risked taking her hand, and led her to the sofa. She didn’t sit, but walked to the window. She stared out for a long time, saying nothing. The set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin told him she hadn’t given up. Yet.

  How much stress would it take before she broke? Rhianna had always been strong, but he knew how much she worried about the baby’s safety. Living with danger hanging over her added a stress factor to their lives that never went away. Every time they drove into town, she looked over her shoulder. He wondered if she’d ever again feel safe.

  He could think of few ways to make her feel better. Maybe someone else could. “If you want to talk to someone impartial, Highview has a good psychiatrist.”

  She spun to face him, anger and surprise warring in her eyes. “You think I’m crazy? Disturbed after what happened?”

  “No. Dagny Bitmeyer was watching us. It’s not unreasonable for you to think there might be another spy.” When she still looked at him distrustfully, his heart ached. He closed the distance between them in three long strides. “I just thought you might feel better if you talked with a professional who could help….”

  She glared at him and her lips turned into a fierce scowl. “I don’t want a professional. I want—”

  A knock on the front door stopped her midsentence, freezing her wild outburst. Without another word, Rhianna whirled and fled upstairs. Rafe debated going after her, but the knocks on the front door continued.

  Damn!

  Rafe yanked open the front door. “What?”

  “And hello to you, too.” His brother Chase breezed into the room and gave him a knowing look. “You and Rhianna have a fight?”

  Rafe let out a long breath and collected himself. “How’d you know?”

  “Been there.” Chase punched his brother in the shoulder. “I’m a married man, remember?”

  Rafe didn’t want to talk about his personal problems, and tried to change the subject. “What was so damn urgent you almost broke down the door?”

  Chase knew him too well. “What’s so damn urgent it has you buzzing like a bee about to sting itself?”

  Rafe slumped into a chair. “I don’t know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Rhianna’s mad at me.”

  “I figured that out myself. The question is why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Chase went to the liquor cabinet, poured a whiskey and handed it to Rafe. “You must have some idea.”

  “Not a clue.” Rafe downed the drink in one burning swallow.

  Chase poured himself a drink and sipped. “When was the last time you told Rhianna you loved her?”

  “Never,” Rafe mumbled.

  “Never!” Chase set down his mostly untouched whiskey, his eyes black with shock. “Are you out of your mind? Women need to be told these things. They need to hear the words. Making love isn’t enough for them—you’ve got to tell them. Repeatedly.”

  Rafe wasn’t about to tell his brother he and Rhianna had only made love once. He picked up Chase’s glass and drank his whiskey, too, appreciating the fire in his belly, wishing it would warm his soul.

  When Rafe didn’t answer, Chase shook his head. “Did you hear one word I said?”

  “If I told her how I felt…she’d expect me…to marry her.”

  Chase’s jaw set at a steely angle. “And the problem with marriage is?”

  “I don’t want that.” Rafe looked at his brother, feeling like the biggest heel in the world. “And I don’t know why.”

  “Well, you better figure it out, Bro. And you better do it fast. She’s too good-looking, has too much spirit to wait around for you to settle whatever’s eating at you from the inside. A woman like Rhianna isn’t going to hang around fly bait like you forever.” Chase waited for Rafe to say something, but when he didn’t even respond to the insult, his brother let out a snort. “I came by to tell you that Tyler fired Judge Stuart’s spy. But we’re shorthanded and could use your help. You still remember how to ride?”

  RHIANNA’S TEMPER HAD propelled her to the top of the stairs after her argument with Rafe, but she’d already started to calm before she reached Allison’s room. Rafe might be the most pigheaded man alive, but she wasn’t helping him overcome his shortsightedness by keeping their relationship as it was. She couldn’t reasonably expect Rafe to conclude how happy they would be together when she kept herself apart from him.

  Rhianna knew they couldn’t continue living in the same house as polite strangers who mostly avoided the topic of their daughter’s future. As she picked up Allison and changed her diaper, Rhianna knew she had to break through the walls Rafe had erected around his heart. For her child’s sake, for her sake, she had to give Rafe another chance to see that he was dead wrong about keeping to his bachelor ways.

  So when Rafe returned to the house, many hours later, she’d had time to prepare her strategy. She knew he’d be tired after his long day, and with a secret smile, she hoped his resistance to her would be down. She could give him another chance to change his mind.

  Rhianna listened to Rafe move around downstairs and bided her time, her stomach fluttering with anticipation.

  AFTER HIS LONG DAY, Rafe looked forward to soaking in the big, claw-foot bathtub he’d installed in the bathroom off the master bedroom. His day had consisted of riding drag and eating dust from the
herd, while fending off first Tyler’s and then Cameron’s questions about his relationship with Rhianna. To Rafe’s annoyance, Chase had told his brothers about their conversation, and Rafe had had to listen to un-solicited advice all day.

  Suspecting Rhianna had long since gone to sleep, Rafe wearily trudged upstairs, rubbing muscles he’d abused. Rounding up cattle was hard, dirty work, and he’d never understood what Tyler and Chase saw in dumb, stubborn cows. As far back as he could remember, Rafe had preferred horses. The senator said Rafe’s preferences were in his blood, inherited from his mother, who’d been a first-class horsewoman.

  Although his mama had died when he was little, Rafe remembered her with a clarity that sometimes haunted his dreams. He recalled her soft hands smoothing back his unruly hair. He recalled her scent; she’d always worn a light fragrance that reminded him of wildflowers in springtime. But most of all he recalled her telling him that he’d grow up as big and strong as his brothers.

  He’d grown taller than Tyler and Chase, ending up as tall as Cam. But he sure as hell didn’t feel strong. As he threw his hat onto a peg and slipped off his boots by his bedroom door, he caught sight of his face in a mirror. Dust coated his eyelashes and eyebrows and was caked around his lips.

  A cool drink of water first. A shower second. Then the bath he’d promised himself.

  He fixed himself a large glass of ice water from the minifridge in his bedroom, tossed his clothes into the hamper and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water sluice the dust from his skin. He soaped, shampooed and rinsed, fighting to keep his eyes open. When he stepped out of the shower, he almost skipped his bath, but knew another fifteen-hour day in the saddle tomorrow would be hell if he didn’t relax sore muscles.

  He ran his bath, shaving as he waited for the water to fill. With a sigh, he slowly, carefully eased himself into the steaming water, his cool drink of water at his side. Tilting his head back, he rested, letting his thoughts roam as he sipped from his glass. As usual when his eyes closed, Rhianna’s face filled his vision. They had to talk. But he didn’t know what to say.

  When she walked into the bathroom, he opened one eye. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

  She wore an emerald wrapper, and from the way the silky material clung to her full breasts, he suspected she had on nothing underneath. Despite his fatigue, he hardened immediately. He did nothing to hide his response. Perhaps if she saw how much he wanted her…

  Her lips curled upward. “Most of you looks exhausted.”

  “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”

  She shrugged lightly, making herself comfortable on the lip of the tub, and reached for a wet sponge, then lathered it. “I feel guilty that you’re all working so hard to pay off the mortgage.”

  “We round up the cows every year.”

  “But this year you’ll have to sell so many. It’ll take a decade to recover.” She traced the sponge over his shoulder.

  He let out a hoarse groan. “Tyler and Chase like nothing better than a good challenge. They’re like little kids. I haven’t seem either of them so happy in years.”

  “Lean forward and I’ll do your back,” she instructed, her tone soft and easy.

  He wanted to ask her what else she’d do, but didn’t dare disturb the intimacy of the moment with a wise-crack. Moments like these were all too rare between them to risk disturbing the closeness. He intended to savor whatever affection she chose to give him, and count himself the luckiest of men.

  He drew up his knees and rested his forearms over them while she dipped the sponge into the bath, lathered it with more soap, then started at the base of his neck. She slid the sponge over his shoulders and down his arms.

  She didn’t speak and he concentrated on her touch. She took her time with the sponge, making slow, lazy circles over his knotted muscles. He ignored his playful urge to draw her into the tub, kiss her senseless until he convinced her she wanted lusty sex. He’d come to respect Rhianna too much to play with her feelings.

  She could see clearly that he wanted her. The first move would have to be one of her making—even if it killed him.

  As she dipped her hands to his lower back, he let out a hiss of sheer pleasure. “I’m melting.”

  “Letting the barriers down?” she asked softly, her question almost rhetorical, but he knew she needed answers from him, deserved answers from him.

  “I’m…trying.” He took the hand on his shoulder and placed it over his wildly beating heart. “Feel that?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what you can do to me just by smiling my way or by walking into the same room.”

  She dipped her head and traced the arc of his neck with her lips. “What else happens?”

  “My awareness heightens.”

  She licked his earlobe. “You mean just seeing me makes you think about danger?”

  “No, silly,” he whispered huskily. “I notice the way your eyes reflect your mood, forest green when you go deep in thought, sparkling emeralds when you laugh, glinting green ice when your temper’s up.”

  “I don’t have a temper,” she retorted with a chuckle that made his insides curl with pleasure.

  “Good, then you won’t mind sharing this bath with me.” He could have toppled her onto his lap, but he’d promised himself he’d wait. With her teasing hands and taunting mouth all over his neck and shoulders, however, his patience had reached its limits. Still, he didn’t just take her, but waited for her to accept his playful invitation.

  She plopped into his lap with a delightful splash that had him shifting quickly before she damaged sensitive areas. Rhianna wriggled in the steamy tub and let out a sigh of happiness. “I always wanted to be a mermaid when I was a little girl.”

  “You do have a very nice tail.” His hands cupped her bottom, and he shot her his most wicked smile.

  Wet satin clung to her breasts and he ached to peel it back. Yet he savored the delay of anticipation, instead leaning forward and nuzzling her breast through the material. He inhaled the light lemon scent from her hair and a hint of talcum powder, courtesy of Allison, combining with the slight musky femininity of Rhianna.

  She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, allowing him full access to her graceful neck and generous cleavage. With his teeth, he parted her robe, taking his time to trail his lips across sensitive flesh, to nibble and savor the experience.

  Exquisite breasts arched to greet him, and he gently nipped a path along her neckline to rosy-hued nipples that perked up at his attentions. Always a vision of loveliness, her breasts had ripened to a fullness he appreciated and ached to explore.

  Wait, he told himself. He needed to make sure Rhianna was enjoying herself. And expectations increased the pleasure.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered, his voice husky with need.

  She quivered in response to his request, keeping her eyes shut, but her lashes fluttered and her chest heaved.

  Rafe reached for his glass of water and retrieved an ice cube. As steam rose from the tub, he taunted her heated flesh with icy droplets that melted off the ice chip.

  He let a drop tickle her mouth, and her lips parted. Her tongue licked off the droplet. He had to hold back from kissing her, devouring her whole. Instead he directed another icy drop to her neck, watched it trickle downward.

  “You have lovely breasts,” he murmured. “Full and so responsive. And they ache for my touch, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “But they’ll have to wait.”

  She sighed. Her tummy quivered. “I don’t like waiting.”

  “Don’t open your eyes. But stand up.”

  Abandoning the ice cube, he helped her rise to her feet, and peeled off her soaking robe. Gently, he spread her feet wide. Reached for another ice cube. As steam rose off her body in a mist of heat, he traced the ice cube down her forehead, her nose, her lips. She tried to take the cube into her mouth, but he wasn’t done with her yet.

  “Cold?�
�� he asked, wondering how they could respond to each other so easily on a physical level when words were so difficult to agree on.

  “And hot. I want you, Rafe.”

  “And I want you,” he assured her, circling first one breast with the ice, then the other. He explored her navel, her belly, her hips, and traced a path down her legs to where the water lapped at her calves.

  Then slowly, he moved the ice to the inside of her knees and thighs, took pleasure in her trembling need. When she finally figured out his final destination for the ice sliver, she didn’t close her parted legs, but quivered in anticipation. He decided to surprise her by kissing just the tip of one lovely breast.

  “Rafe. I can’t take…much more…of this fire and ice.”

  “Okay.” He switched his mouth to her other breast.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Frustration and desire edged her words.

  Lord, he could lose himself in her breasts. Perfectly round, perfectly creamy, with perfect nipples that hardened under his tongue. “You taste so good.”

  A small moan escaped her lips, and although he reluctantly left her breasts, she tempted him in other ways. He knelt between her thighs. Her hands clenched his hair. Her hips bucked.

  With his hands on her bottom, he steadied her hips, thinking he’d found paradise with his lips. She smelled like sugar, tasted like honey. If he could have kept her on the brink for hours, he would have. But he sensed her flesh cooling in the night air.

  And the heat running through his veins made him eager to have her. In one swift move he stood, lifted her into his arms and stepped from the tub. “Don’t peek.”

  He carried her straight to the shower, where he let warm water sluice over them to chase away any chill. He’d just started to set her onto her feet when she grabbed his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his hips and planted his sex firmly inside her.

  “Hey!”

  “Was that a complaint?” she chuckled as she wiggled her hips, thoroughly pleased with herself.

  How could he complain when she felt as hot as a volcano about to erupt? Luckily, his shower cubicle was small, the rubber matting nonskid. He planted her back against one wall, and she placed the soles of her feet against the one opposite. He gyrated his hips slowly, with restraint, but she was having none of it.