Page 2 of The Runaway Heiress
That look was the perfect example of what drew her to him. It was full of genuine concern. He was the only one who looked at her as someone who might be in pain or need help. He gave her a glimpse of what it might be like to feel cared for and safe, even though the very idea of safety was wrong. If Jean ordered any of his men to remove her as a threat, none of them would hesitate. Gray included.
She shivered, reminding herself to never forget that her uncle only employed men he had thoroughly vetted. They were completely loyal to him. But still…she couldn’t step away.
“No, he didn’t. I’m fine.” But then she shook her head because she wasn’t fine at all. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. The back of her throat ached, and she swallowed past the lump that had formed there.
“Just breathe in.” His hands began to lightly stroke up and down the length of her back. Again her body obeyed his command and she took in a deep gulp of air. “Now let it out slowly.”
His startling gray eyes held hers as he bid her repeat the process two more times. He was so confident in his soothing commands that the tension began to seep from her body. The feeling of security inexplicably made her confide her trouble to him.
“I’m going to be married. I don’t…” But her voice trailed off when his eyes narrowed.
“When?” The question was a breath between them.
“In a month.”Oh, God, only weeks away!She bit the inside of her lip to keep it from trembling.
For a moment there was nothing, no response, nothing flickering in his eyes. There was only the sound of his breathing, slow and even. She fancied she felt it caress her cheek, but it was a ridiculous thought to savor now when her world had been pulled out from under her.
“Who’s the groom?” The muscle in his jaw tightened and he clenched his hands almost possessively at her waist.
“Monsieur Beaudin,” she whispered.
“He doesn’t deserve you.” The words were so emphatic and blasphemous, spoken there in the hallway just outside her uncle’s door, that they shocked her. Did he know? Did he have any idea that she was a prisoner in every sense of the word?
She searched his face, looking for the meaning behind them, but the momentary ferocity brought about with those words had gone and his handsome face was impassive again. Still, she couldn’t stop the flush of pleasure they evoked as she settled on his eyes. They were dark like the clouds of a thunderstorm. She’d never seen anything like them.
“Who would deserve me?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but his intense stare had hypnotized the question from her.
That stare never wavered when he answered. “Somebody who’ll take care of you.”
His words were so pleasing she closed her eyes briefly to revel in them. She’d almost forgotten what it meant to be taken care of, to not wake up every morning and battle the fear that constantly plagued her. Life with Anton would be a gross continuation of her life with Jean. Never knowing when she might displease him. Never knowing when a remark mightprovoke him to strike her or give her a week locked away in her room with scarcely enough food to sustain her. She’d learned to gauge Jean so those things rarely happened now, but with Anton she’d have to start over.
But Gray… She took in a long, shuddering breath. Gray was a protector. The woman who was lucky enough to be his would never know fear. There would be so much more. It was those thoughts of more that made her become aware of the impropriety of their near-embrace and slowly push herself away from him. His hands dropped from her waist with a lingering caress that she imagined was intentional, while her own hands reluctantly returned to her sides.
“I’m afraid the question of my care doesn’t figure into things.” She attempted a parting smile. “Thank you.” And she started to walk past him, but his eyes held hers a little longer. There was something deep and longing there, but impossible to explore. So she walked to the stairs while trying to pretend that she couldn’t still feel his hands on her, that she wouldn’t perpetually relive that brief moment in his arms. It was the only time he had touched her, and she knew she’d never forget it.
Chapter Two
Gray took a long, final drag from his cigarillo before flicking it and sending it flying in a high arc into the street. The orange glow of the tip bounced twice before settling in the dirt to slowly burn out. He wanted his hunger for Sophie to burn out just as easily, but it wouldn’t. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t forget the hopelessness on her face that morning. He wanted to think of her as he thought of Jean LaSalle: cold, remote, arrogant. But she wasn’t any of those. She tried to be stoic but her eyes gave her away; he wanted to know what they hid from the world.
Watching her walk away from him had been harder than it should have been. Even now he could recall the faint trace of honeysuckle she had left behind and how he had stood there breathing it in until her scent too had gone. The warmth of her body still clung to his hands where he’d held her.
He wanted to forget, but his eyes kept drifting to her anyway. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Nelsons’ mansion, they found her effortlessly among the other dancers. With hercrown of golden hair and deep blue gown she could have been one of the angels on LaSalle’s ceiling. His gaze drifted down to the way the gown clung to her small waist and then the creamy globes of flesh that threatened to spill from its bodice. No, he amended, she was too earthy to be angelic. He forced his gaze from that temptation to her face. She was smiling, but it was strained and didn’t meet her eyes. They were turbulent like the pale, clear blue of a mountain stream in spring.
She was dancing with Anton Beaudin. The lustful gleam in the man’s eye was unmistakable and it immediately made Gray angry, though he was her intended groom and had every right to his thoughts. But the idea of Sophie giving herself to that cocky bastard made Gray want to smash his fist into the man’s face. His jaw tensed as he turned away from the window.
A vision of her in his own arms flashed through his mind, and he immediately checked the unwarranted thought. There were many reasons she couldn’t be his. Not the least of which was that she was the niece of his enemy. The fact that LaSalle was the meanest son of a bitch he’d ever come across was further deterrent.
He tried to remind himself that this was simply a bad case of lust. The obvious cure for which would be to spend a night—or several—in Victoria House, the elegant gaming hall and brothel across town. He could probably even find a woman who looked like Sophie if the lights were turned down. The problem was that he’d still have to see her until the job was done. He’d still have to stand by quietly as she suffered. He’d have to smell her honeysuckle scent and endure the kindness in her eyes every single time she walked past him.
He'd be reminded every single day that it was more than lust he felt for her. She awoke something inside him that he couldn’t easily silence.
Gray shook his head and reminded himself he had a job to do. Sophie Buchanan was nothing but a distraction and she’d probably hate him when his task was finished. The sooner she got married the better.
He forced his gaze to the street, taking in every shadow and examining it for a threat. Looking for danger was a habit to him by now. Something he did automatically. LaSalle was a son of a bitch with many enemies and they were liable to be lurking anywhere.
The scuff of boot tread on wood caught his attention a moment before Hunter Jameson appeared from the other end of the wraparound porch. The Jamesons were LaSalle’s main rival in the copper industry in this part of Montana Territory. In fact, rumors had been flying that LaSalle would arrange a marriage for his niece with Hunter in a gesture that would join the two empires. Anyone who thought that, however, didn’t know how greedy LaSalle was by nature. He wasn’t about to share his wealth.
Though Hunter’s father was almost as suspect as LaSalle, Gray had found Hunter to be likable. They had met once when Gray had intervened with a runaway horse and saved the man from being run down. Now they were cordial when they met at events around town, usually when Gray was working as escort for LaSalle.
