Tears of the Renegade Read online

  “Yes. I’ll be ready.”

  He winked at her. “I won’t mind if you aren’t dressed.”

  As he finished dressing, Susan watched him and hugged the sheet up over her nudity. She bit her lip, trying to force her own feelings away so she could consider his. She’d sensed that he was uneasy about allowing himself to relax when anyone else was with him, and she knew that her vision of him leaving his women alone in their beds had been an accurate one. His women. She had joined them, that long line of women who had held him in their arms for a taste of heaven, then lain weeping in their cold beds after he had gone. Yet she wouldn’t have turned him away, wouldn’t have missed her own chance at heaven. If she could turn time back, she would go with him that first night she’d met him, and not waste one moment of the time she had with him.

  He completed dressing and reached for his coat, then leaned down to give her a swift kiss. Susan dropped the sheet and rose up on her knees, entwining her arms around his strong neck as she lifted her mouth. He paused, looking down at her gentle mouth, already pouty from his kisses; her eyes were serene pools, with thick black lashes drooping in a drowsy, unconsciously sexy manner. She was a naked Venus in his arms, soft and warm and feminine, and his hands automatically sought her curves as he kissed her long and hard, his tongue deep within her mouth. Despite his weariness, desire hardened his body, and it was all he could do to pull away from her.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, giving her a look that she couldn’t read before he left the room. Susan remained on her knees until she heard the sound of the front door closing; then she sagged down on the bed, fighting the hot tears that wanted to fall. For a moment she’d sensed that he’d been tempted to stay, but only to slake the urges of his amazingly virile body, not because he trusted her, not because he felt he could sleep in her arms. She knew that she could have touched him, wriggled herself against him, and he would have tumbled her back down to the mattress, but that wasn’t what she wanted. That hot, glorious madness that seized her at his lightest touch was wonderful, but she wanted more. She wanted his love, his trust.

  The tiger is a majestic beast, savagely beautiful and awesome in its power, but it’s locked alone in its majesty. The beautiful tiger is solitary, hunting alone, sleeping alone. A tiger mates, and for a time is less alone, but the moments of physical joining are soon gone, and the tiger once again roams in solitude. Cord was a tiger in nature, and after mating he had gone to seek his bed apart from every other creature on earth, because he trusted no other creature.

  She pounded her fist on the mattress in mute frustration. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with a man who liked cuddling up and falling asleep, a man who hadn’t spent years of his life kicking around the globe in a lot of godforsaken places, who did all the normal things like going to work during the week and cutting the grass on weekends? Because, she interrupted her own thoughts fiercely, a man like that wouldn’t be Cord. He was wild and beautiful, and dangerous. If she had wanted a man who wasn’t all of those things, she’d have fallen in love with Preston long ago.

  She lay awake, her eyes on the ceiling as the hours slid past and dawn came and went. Part of her was hurt and humiliated that he had come to her for sex, then left as soon as he was satisfied, but another part of her was glad that he had come to her at all, for any reason. Certainly, if he made love to any woman, she wanted it to be herself. She wanted to believe that he felt something for her besides physical desire, but if he didn’t, she would try to use that desire as a base to build on. As long as he came around at all, she still had hope.

  She was taken by surprise the next afternoon when sudden cramps signaled that their reckless day of lovemaking hadn’t borne fruit; she’d been feeling listless all day, but credited that to her lack of sleep the night before. She was further surprised when she burst into tears, and it wasn’t until that moment that she realized she’d been unconsciously hoping that Cord’s seed had found fertile ground. She almost hated her body for being so unpredictable, so inhospitable; she wanted his child, a part of him that would be hers forever. She wouldn’t use a pregnancy to chain him to her, ever, if he wanted to go, but how she would love a baby of his making! Her arms ached at the thought of holding an infant with soft dark hair and pale blue eyes, and their emptiness haunted her.

  She was pale and shadows lay heavily under her eyes when Cord arrived to take her to dinner; she told him immediately that he had no need to worry about a pregnancy, and almost winced at the relief he didn’t bother to hide. Despite that, they had a pleasant dinner, and after eating they danced for a while to some slow, dreamy forties-style music. He’d taken her to a restaurant in New Orleans where she’d never been before, and she liked the place-out-of-time atmosphere. He knew that her energy level was low, and she thoroughly enjoyed the way he coddled her that evening. She drank a little more wine than she was accustomed to, and was floating slightly above the earth as he drove her home in the sleek white Jaguar that he had arrived in, though she had expected the red Blazer. The man has style, she thought dreamily, stroking her fingers over the leather of the seats. In the light of the dash his face was hard and exciting, the virile brush of his moustache outlining the precision of his upper lip. She reached out and let her fingers lightly trace his mouth, causing his brows to arch in question.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured huskily.

  “Feel free to admire me anytime you like, madam,” he invited formally, but the wicked, sensual glint in his eyes was anything but formal as he glanced at her. She was a little high, her eyes filled with dreams, and he knew that she would come willingly into his arms if he stopped the car and reached for her right then. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his body reacted to his thoughts. He wanted her, but he knew that she didn’t feel well, and he wanted her to enjoy their lovemaking as deeply as he did, not just allow her body to be used for his pleasure. He thought of how she looked in the throes of passion, and desire slammed into his gut so hard that he jerked in his seat. When this was over, when he had accomplished all that he wanted, he promised himself that he’d take her on a long vacation, maybe a cruise, and he’d make love to her as much as he liked. He’d satisfy his craving for her once and for all, sate himself on her slim, velvet body that was so surprisingly sensual. Her sensuality was so unconscious, so natural, that he sensed she wasn’t even aware of it. A perfect lady, he thought, until he took her in his arms; then she turned into a hot, sweet wanton who took his breath away.

  He didn’t plan any further into the future than that; Cord had learned not to make long-range plans, because they inhibited his ability to react to circumstances. When some people formed plans in their minds, they locked their thoughts on course and couldn’t deviate from them, couldn’t allow for unforeseen interruptions or detours. When Cord plotted his course of action, he didn’t tie himself down; he always allowed for the possibility that he might have to jump to the left instead of to the right, or even retrace his steps entirely. That flexibility had kept him alive, kept him in tune with his senses. In that way, he was a creature of the moment, yet he always kept his goal in mind, and changing circumstances only meant that he would have to reach that goal by a different route. He was usually prepared for anything and everything, but when he’d returned to Biloxi he hadn’t been prepared for the primitive desire he would feel for a woman who had one foot in the enemy camp and seemed determined to keep it there. To the victor belonged the spoils, and he looked at Susan with hard determination; when he had won, she would be his, and he would force all thoughts of her in-laws out of her head. He wouldn’t allow her any time to think of anyone but him. The savagely possessive need he felt for her had forced him to adjust his actions, but in the end…in the end, everything would be just like he’d planned it, and Susan would be his, on his terms.

  Susan sensed the control he exercised when he kissed her lightly and left her at her door; she was too tired, too sleepy from too much wine, to try to und
erstand why he left so abruptly. She only knew that she was disappointed; she could have made a pot of coffee and they could have sat close together and watched the late news, just as she and Vance had often done….

  But Cord wasn’t Vance.

  Susan stood in the darkened foyer and looked around at the beautiful, gracious home Vance had built for her. The light she had left on at the head of the stairs illuminated the pale walls and the elegant floor-to-ceiling windows, the imported tiles of the foyer. Her home was warm and welcoming, because it was a home that had known love, but now she stood in the darkness, surrounded by the things that Vance had given her, and all she could think of was another man. Cord filled her days, her nights, her thoughts, her dreams. His pale lodestone eyes compelled her, like the moon silently controlling the tides. She tried to visualize Vance’s face, but the features refused to form themselves in her mind. He had taught her about love; his tender care had helped shape her into a warm and loving woman, but he was gone, and he had no more substance for her than that of the drifting mist. Vance, I really did love you, she called out to him silently, but there was nothing there. Vance was dead, and Cord was so vitally alive.

  Instead of going up to bed she went into the den and turned on the lights, then walked unerringly to the precise spot in the bookshelves that held a small album, though it had been at least four years since she’d looked at it. She took down the leather-bound volume and opened it, staring at the pictures of Vance.

  How young he looked! How fresh and gallant! She saw the familiar mischievous sparkle in his blue eyes, the rather crooked smile, the strong Blackstone features. She traced the lines of his face with one gentle finger, seeing the resemblance he bore to Cord. He looked much the way she imagined Cord would have before experience had worn away his youthful wonder at the world, before all his ideals had been blasted out of existence. “I loved you,” she murmured to Vance’s smiling face. “If you could have stayed, I’d have loved you forever.”

  But he hadn’t, and now Cord had stolen her love like the renegade he was.

  Gently she replaced the album and left the room, walking slowly up the stairs to her empty bed, her mind and her senses filled with the memory of the night before when Cord had swept in with the rain, wild and damp, the air about him almost crackling with the heat of his passion. She hadn’t even thought of denying him, even though he’d disappeared for a week without a word of warning. She’d simply undressed, so eager for his touch that she wouldn’t have protested if he’d taken her there in the foyer.

  She creamed the makeup off her face, closing her eyes slightly to combat the faint giddiness caused by the wine. How passionate he’d been the night before, and how considerate he’d been this evening. She tried to convince herself that he cared for her, but the thought kept coming back that he hadn’t wasted any time getting away from her after driving her home. And the night before, he’d left after making love to her. He only wants me for sex, she silently told her reflection, and shut her eyes tightly against the words. It had to be more than that, because she wasn’t sure she could keep from falling apart if it wasn’t.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time another week had come and gone, Susan was convinced that she knew nothing about Cord. He was the most enigmatic man she’d ever met; just when she’d decided that he was only using her as a convenient sexual outlet, he confounded her by taking her out every evening, wooing her with wine and good food, and dancing with her into the wee hours of the morning. Dancing with him was special. He was the most graceful man she’d ever known, and he enjoyed dancing. Between them, rituals of dancing were both flirtation and foreplay. She could feel his powerful body moving against her, sending her senses tumbling head over heels, and the unabashed response of his body told her that he was reacting the same way. Held in his arms, she felt secure, protected, locked away in their private world. She could have dreamed her life away in his arms.

  He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, tenderly solicitous of her, courting her in a manner so old-fashioned that it stunned her even though she deeply enjoyed every moment of it. He gave her the grace of a few days’ privacy, then brought his abstinence to an end with hungry impatience; instead of kissing her gently good-night, as he had been doing, he picked her up and carried her to her bed. When he left several hours later she lay sprawled nude on the tangled sheets, too exhausted to get up to find a nightgown or even pull the sheet over herself. She slept with a heavenly smile on her passion-swollen mouth.

  The nights that followed were just as passionate, and she should have been wilting from lack of sleep, but instead she was radiant, full of energy. She sailed through the hours at work, too immersed in her own happiness to really pay attention to Preston’s growing depression, knowing that when the night came she would be in Cord’s arms again.

  Her happiness made the blow, when it came, just that much more cruel. She was going over a productivity report from the small electronics plant they owned when Preston appeared at her office door. Susan looked up with a ready smile, but the smile died when she saw the taut expression that had made his face a gray mask. Concern snapped her to her feet, and she went across the room to him, taking his arm. “What is it?”

  He stared at her for a minute, and she silently reproached herself for not having paid more attention to him this past week. She’d known that something was bothering him, but she hadn’t wanted anything to dim her happiness. Her selfishness made her writhe inside.

  Wordlessly, he extended the papers in his hand. Susan took them, her brow wrinkling as she stared at them.

  “What is this?”

  “Read it.” He moved over to a chair and lowered himself into it, his movements slow and jerky, strangely uncoordinated.

  She flipped through the papers, reading slowly. Her eyes widened, and she read them over again, hoping that she hadn’t understood correctly, but there was no way to misunderstand. The meaning of every word was perfectly clear. Cord had bought up an outstanding loan against the Blackstone Corporation and was calling it in. They had thirty days to pay.

  Almost suffocated by the thick sense of betrayal that rose in her throat, she dropped the papers to the top of her desk and lifted her stunned gaze to Preston. She couldn’t speak, though she wet her lips and tried to force her throat to form the words. How could he have done that?

  “Well, now you know where he went on that mystery trip,” Preston said bitterly, nodding toward the papers. “Dallas.”

  She braced one hand flat on the desk, trying to support herself as acid nausea rose in her throat. She conquered the moment, but she couldn’t conquer the pain that threatened to bend her double. Why had he done it? Didn’t he realize that this hurt her as much as it did Preston? This wasn’t just Preston he was striking at; he was threatening the entire corporation, her livelihood as well as the livelihoods of thousands of workers who depended on their jobs to put food on the table. He had to know, so the only supposition she could reach was that he simply didn’t care. After the week she had spent with him, the passion she’d shared with him, the brutal realization that it all meant nothing to him was like a slap in the face, and she reeled from the impact of it.

  “I thought we were protected against this sort of thing.” Lifelessly, Preston stared at the floor. “But he found a way, and he’s bought up the loan. He’s called it in. God knows where he got the money to buy it up, or even how he knew where to go—” He broke off suddenly, his blue eyes narrowing as he stared at Susan with bitter accusation.

  For a moment she didn’t read the expression on his face; then her eyes flared with understanding. She went even whiter than she had been. How could he so readily believe that she would betray them to Cord, after all she had done to try to convince Cord not to seek vengeance? But why not? Why should Preston trust her? Cord didn’t trust her, despite the passionate devotion she revealed every time she gave herself to him.

  “How can you believe that?” she choked. “I haven’t told him a
nything.”

  “Then how did he know?”

  “I don’t know!” she shouted, then stopped, pressing her hands against her mouth, aghast at her loss of control. “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell him; I swear I didn’t.”

  His blue eyes were suddenly sick, and he drew a deep, shaking breath. “My God, he’s got us fighting each other,” he said miserably, getting to his feet and coming around to her. He took her in his arms and held her tightly to him, rocking back and forth in a comforting motion. “I know you didn’t tell him; you don’t have a deceptive bone in your body. I’m sorry for being so stupid. I’m rattled. Susan, he’s trying to bankrupt us.”

  The evidence lay on her desk, so she couldn’t even try to deny it. She pressed her face into Preston’s shoulder, vaguely aware that she was shaking. The awful thing was that, even with her knowing that Cord was capable of being so ruthless and devious, the aching, burning love she felt for him didn’t diminish at all. She had known the chance she was taking in mating with that human tiger.

  How long they clung together like frightened children trying to comfort each other, she didn’t know. But gradually she calmed, and their embrace loosened.