Undercover Bride
Her attention fragmented. It was the first time the term fiancée had been used without a qualifier—like applicant or candidate. Another thought occurred. Stilling in the act of retying her shoes, she looked up. “Daughter. Kathy is…”
“Sutherland’s youngest,” he affirmed, eyes gleaming. “One of our better instructors, too. You minimized your talents in this area.”
The minimization, she was sure, had existed only in his presumption. She surprised them both by offering, “Maybe you’d like to get a closer look at my talents.”
Her words seemed to have left him momentarily speechless. She must be a little shell-shocked herself, to have issued the impulsive invitation. Maybe it had been his amusement, as if the talents he’d spoken of had little more than entertainment value. Perhaps she was seeking to solidify their relationship as it was; that of adversaries.
At any rate, he was about to demur; she saw it in his eyes. With a pitying look, she promised, “I won’t hurt you. I usually take it easy on a match opponent.”
The verbal blow landed square on his ego. His gaze narrowed. “I don’t.”
She shrugged, smiled at him. “Then I won’t either.” She kicked her shoes off again and waited, as he moved more slowly to do the same. While he was getting prepared, she moved to the corner and worked off some of her nerves by pounding on the body bag suspended from a chain.
“Hopefully you’re taking out your frustrations on that bag, and won’t have much energy left for me.”
She whirled and the bag swung back and bumped her hip. She didn’t notice. He was barefoot, had divested himself of his shirt and had rolled up his pants. Her gaze followed the line of his leg to the hint of calf muscle showing below the hastily rolled cuffs. Her eyes traveled upward to linger over his flat belly before fixing fascinatedly on his bare chest.
She swallowed. His tall body was rangy rather than broad, sinewy rather than bulky. A perfect V of black chest hair covered lightly padded muscle. It was impossible not to appreciate the picture he made. Objectively speaking, of course.
Her objectivity fled when her gaze landed on his face. The slightly amused smirk on his lips might be considered cute by some. She longed for nothing more than to knock it off.
He made a come-and-get-me gesture with his hands. “I’m ready if you are.”
She strolled over to the ring, and waited for him to follow. “Oh, I’m ready, all right.”
She eyed him as they circled in the ring, as each tried to detect the first hint of weakness in the other. In hand-to-hand warfare she had to use her weaknesses, as well as her strengths. If the opponent outsized her, she would have the advantage of speed. Against superior strength, she would still have agility. The only rule of combat was to never, ever fight battles she couldn’t win.
She was determined to win this one.
He moved in with a right jab aimed for her stomach. She ducked under his arm and spun, delivering a kick to his kidneys. She didn’t temper the force and knew it stung, even without the reproachful look he fixed her with as he rubbed the spot. “That hurt.”
This time it was she who smirked. “It was meant to.”
There wasn’t a smile on his lips, but his eyes gleamed. “Something tells me that you think you’re pretty hot stuff on the mat.”
“Something tells me that you’ve spent your share of time stretched out on top of it.”
He shook his head, a flicker of humor crossing his face. “Baby, I’m going to make you pay for that one.”
With a mask of renewed resolve on his face he kept moving, blocking her feint and right cross, jabbing out, catching her firmly in the shoulder. “Ready to stop yet? I’d hate to really hurt you.”
She bared her teeth. They continued to circle each other warily, waiting for an opening, searching for a vulnerability. She landed one more kick to his belly, and was almost downed when his foot shot out behind hers and he gave her a push that should have toppled her. She held on to his arm to regain her balance, then wrested it behind him. It was a trap. She knew it as soon as she moved; she didn’t need his husky laugh to tell her so. She should never have gotten that close to him. Nearness dissipated her advantage. Her mobility was threatened. She released him, clasped both hands, and drove her elbows into his rib cage.
Although his breath released with a satisfying whoosh, he had the presence of mind to grab her before she could spin away, and used his greater strength to wrestle her to the mat. Where he landed smack on top of her.
She used her elbows to wedge some breathing room for herself and forced herself to meet his laughing gaze.
“I didn’t dare tell you this while you were intent on knocking my block off, but I have a confession to make. I have to admit to experiencing a certain, ah…fascination at the sight of two scantily clad women fighting.”
“Sparring.”
“Whatever.” His teeth flashed and there wasn’t a hint of contrition in his smile. “I guess that makes me a pervert.”
“Well, it makes you male. Of course, the two terms aren’t mutually exclusive.”
His chuckle seemed to roll up from the pit of his belly. She imagined that she could feel every roll and pitch of it as it worked through his body. Every inch of his long length was pressed close to hers. Angles against curves, heat to heat. The pounding of her pulse no longer had anything to do with her exertion, and everything to do with their position. It was time to fight dirty.
She let her eyelashes flutter, and parted her lips. Her body softened against his. She didn’t have to feign her breathy gasps for air. She saw the instant the laughter faded from his eyes, to be replaced with primitive masculine intent. His knee pressed between hers, and his mouth descended slowly, his gaze fixed on hers.
And a moment later he stilled, his lips a fraction away, male discomfort evident on his face. “Ah…you know that your knee is in a very tender spot…you do know.”
She smiled sweetly.
“My mother is expecting grandchildren.”
“Then I’d advise you to get up. Slowly.”
With exaggerated care he rose, moving back cautiously while she stood, as well. He watched the self-satisfied look settle upon her face and it brought an answering smile. Damn, if she wasn’t something. Unexpected, alluring, intriguing. And sexy enough to melt a glacier.
He stepped forward, stuck out a hand. “Truce?”
She eyed it suspiciously, before putting her hand in his. The moment their fingers clasped he yanked her against him, and wrapped his arms securely around her waist to keep her there. “Remember,” he whispered, his lips close to hers, “never trust an opponent. Especially one promising peace.”
His mouth closed over hers for a quick, teasing sampling, but lingered when reaction rocketed, smashing expectations. There was more here than he’d anticipated, far more to be shared than a casual kiss between acquaintances. He paused, his lips motionless on hers for a heartbeat. He’d faced danger often enough to recognize it, often enough to avoid it when possible. A visceral instinct was warning him now, screaming at him. It wasn’t like him to ignore it. It wasn’t like him to rush in regardless, to mindlessly dive into sensation.
He deepened the kiss for a heated, hungry taste. Her tongue glided along his in a velvet dance and need slammed into him. Inner warnings went ignored. The battle changed, became passion warring against passion, strength pitted against strength.
He hauled her closer. Her arms welcomed him, twined around his neck and enfolded him in a greedy embrace. Their mouths mated, tongues battling and bodies straining against each other. One of her hands raked into his hair, the other gripped his shoulder. The evidence of her desire stripped his mind clean.
She was a medley of wild flavors and silken textures. Her mouth was pure sin and was rapidly driving him beyond reason. The arousing scent of her lingered in the curves and hollows of her neck, and behind her ear. He swept his palm down her spine, cupped her bottom, damning the fragile barrier of clothes between them. He wanted to explore her. He wanted to find all the secret places that made her gasp and moan and beg. He wanted to drink the cries from her lips and wring them from her again and again, until he’d marked her for his own.
And the depth of that wanting shocked him. It fired an alarm through his system that wouldn’t be stilled, that couldn’t be ignored. He lifted his head, although need still pounded through his veins like a locomotive. The cessation of pleasure was keen, and it took effort not to reach for her again. Because it took such effort, he took a step away from her. And then another.
“I’d better get back to the office.”
He barely recognized his voice, edgy and ragged. He watched her eyes, still dazed and slightly drugged-looking and it was all he could do to keep from dragging her to him again, pulling the damn holder from her hair and tangling his fingers in the thick blond strands. Deliberately, he turned his back and walked over to where he left his clothes.
After a moment, she did the same. Buttoning her shirt was a task that required concentration. Donning her socks and shoes gave her an excuse not to look his way. But not looking at him couldn’t stem the tide of emotions flooding through her. She needed time; time to get things back in perspective, time to reset her course.
Her fingers faltered over knotting her shoe, and she gave a mental curse. She ordered her flagging composure back by sheer force of will. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d been kissed by a thoroughly reprehensible man, one being investigated for his involvement in heinous activities. Fingers stilling in their tasks, she drew a deep breath and released it.
But God help her, it was the first time she’d enjoyed it.
Chapter 4
By the time Rachel had been at the compound a week, she’d developed a detailed mental map of the house. While boring Raymond by her seemingly endless fascination with the ornamental woodwork, the fine wallpaperings and furnishings, she observed exits, determined possible escape routes and household schedules. Admiring the bounty of the flower gardens from different windows of the house, she mapped distances, drops and roof pitches. She was finally satisfied that the only potential places of interest in the home itself were the locked areas in Caleb’s bedroom and the office he shared with Sutherland.
It wasn’t difficult to evaluate the risk factor of searching both. Getting in and out of Caleb’s room would be relatively easy to accomplish, especially when she had a firmer grasp on his daily schedule. The office would require more thought. She hadn’t yet observed a time when it was unoccupied. It would clearly be an opportunity that would lend itself better to nighttime reconnoitering.
She’d also learned a great deal about Caleb Carpenter. In the course of their dinner conversations it had emerged that they shared a similar taste in books and movies, with both of them preferring mysteries and thrillers. They liked dogs above cats, and enjoyed basketball over baseball. They differed over their favorite museums, he preferring the Louvre and she professing an enjoyment in exploring the Smithsonians. But both preferred classical music, and enjoyed physical activities that pitted them against the elements.
She thought she’d learned a lot about the man with what he didn’t say, as well. She knew he was tough; he’d have to be. He was obviously smart, well-educated, cultured. His smiles came more frequently than his frowns, and his voice could be serious one moment, filled with amusement the next. Always though, his blue eyes gave nothing away, at times appearing shuttered, deliberately secretive.
And she knew, with an intuition independent of logic, that he was dangerous.
Rachel was about to take a measure of that danger. A man who distrusted her posed a far greater threat than one who did not. It was time to find out, once and for all, whose orders ultimately kept Raymond so closely attached. She eyed the bored-looking young soldier at her side speculatively. She was ready to begin the next stage of her operation, and having one of The Brotherhood’s soldiers tagging along was an obstacle that would have to be eliminated, one way or another.
Turning abruptly away from the window she was standing before, she nearly collided with Raymond. She strode past him down the hallway. She was hoping that the idea for a guard didn’t spring from Carpenter. If he didn’t trust her, at least a little, he’d be doubly wary. It suited her purposes to keep her primary adversary relaxed.
Caleb hadn’t seemed very relaxed, however, for the past several days. Although they still had dinner together every night, he excused himself soon afterward, leaving her to her own devices. She’d welcomed the space his absence created. It gave her time to collect her own composure, to come to terms with her reaction to his kiss. Rachel’s strengths had always been her cool steady calm and her clearheaded logic. She should know better than most that separating the good from the evil in a person was impossible. Rather than two different sides, the qualities were irreversibly entwined. Her father’s good traits hadn’t been enough to save him from the demonic hatred that had eventually destroyed him.
It was deeply troubling to discover desire could even momentarily overcome her loathing for everything Carpenter represented. But after a few days she’d been able to dismiss the emotion as an aberration fueled by long-dormant hormones. There was no denying, however, that the emotional distance Caleb had been displaying made the task easier.
“Miss Grunwald!”
Rachel threw a quizzical look over her shoulder. Raymond’s expression was panicked. “You can’t go in there. The general and the colonel shouldn’t be interrupted.”
She gave a careless smile, her hand on the knob of the office door. “I won’t keep Caleb long.” She knocked once, deliberately pushing the door open almost immediately.
“…no better way to accomplish nationwide recognition and respect than with some carefully planned bombings and assassinations. We’ve certainly got the arsenal for it, thanks to Sim—” Sutherland’s words broke off abruptly as Rachel entered the room.
“Oh.” With a self-conscious air, Rachel stopped in her tracks. She sent an apologetic shrug to Caleb. “I’m interrupting you. Please excuse me.” She began to back out of the room, bumping up against Raymond, who was hovering behind her.
Caleb watched her, his face impassive. “Careful. You’re causing a human pileup there.”
“You are interrupting us, Miss Grunwald.” Sutherland said. “Perhaps your business can wait until this evening.”
“Of course.” She gave an easy smile and began to turn away.
“That won’t be necessary.” There was a hint of command in Caleb’s voice which had her pausing. “I’m not so busy that I can’t spare a few minutes.” His gaze went to Raymond, and his brows rose. “Is there something I can help you with, soldier?”
The young man went a deep dull red. “No, sir, General.”
“Oh, he’s with me.” Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “At least, he’s the soldier who’s been assigned to me. And he warned me about interrupting you, so the fault is mine.”
Caleb’s expression went thoughtful and he continued to stare at Raymond, who began to fidget nervously. “Assigned to you?”
Rachel had her answer. Carpenter knew nothing about the constant posted guard on her, so Sutherland was to blame, as she’d suspected. She was given no time to ponder the reason. Caleb turned his piercing stare on Sutherland. “Colonel, please take the soldier with you and give us five minutes.”
He didn’t wait for them to obey before switching his attention back to Rachel. “You left your hair down.”
His simple observation was oddly disconcerting. So was the flame of heat in his eyes. After his polite reserve of the past several days, she was dismayed at the return of that familiar intensity. It seared her, bathing her with warmth and making her all too aware of the last time he’d looked at her that way. And the way she’d responded.
She reached up to push her hair over her shoulder, the genuine embarrassment in the gesture foreign to her. “It’s usually simpler to just pull it back….”
“I like it.”
The distance between them closed as he stepped toward her and the other, more intangible distance that had existed between them for the last several days, suddenly evaporated. He reached out and combed his fingers through the loose strands curving beneath her jaw and Rachel went completely still.
“It looks good on you.” It softened her face, made her perfect features seem less remote. More touchable. And because he wanted to touch, badly, he clasped both hands behind his back.
Turning abruptly and crossing to the service cart tucked into a corner of the room, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Rachel shake her head. “I have some of that iced lemonade you like so well.”
Relenting, she accepted the glass he poured for her, wondering how he’d known that she stopped in the kitchen each afternoon for some of this delicious drink. She wondered uneasily what else he might have observed, as well.
She met his blue gaze with her own, and raised her glass. After taking a sip, she said, “I apologize again for barging in on you. I just wanted to ask if it was all right to borrow from your library. You have quite an extensive collection, and I haven’t had the time to read for a while.”
He gave a careless wave of his hand. “You don’t need to ask permission. You’re to make yourself completely at home here. And don’t worry about the interruption. I can always spare a few minutes for a beautiful woman. Especially one that I’ve been neglecting lately.” The reasons for that had never seemed less rational. Certainly limiting his time with her hadn’t erased her from his mind. Not when she still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, a teasing distraction to the very serious matters at hand.
It was exactly the seriousness of those matters that had had him carefully avoiding her for the past several days. He couldn’t afford to lose sight of the goal that was so close to achievement he could almost touch it. A goal that would be the fruition of years of single-minded dedication.
His fingers clenched as he watched Rachel lower her glass. Her lips were moist. He knew exactly how they would taste, with the sweet, tangy drops clinging to them and the succulent sweetness that was all her own. And he recognized just how thoroughly he’d been deluding himself for the past week. He may have kept his physical distance from her, but she’d continued to represent just as much a diversion.
Consideringly, he raised his glass and drank. Women didn’t distract him—ever. They were pleasant companions, and he enjoyed their company, but when it was time to part, they were forgotten. Never had one caused his thoughts to stray and his sleep to fragment. A faint frown crossed his face. It still surprised him that Rachel was managing to accomplish what all the others could not.
“You’re staring again. I’m surprised your mother didn’t extinguish that particular trait of yours.”
He smiled, slow and wide, and never took his gaze from her. “It’s not the only character flaw she failed at erasing from my tender psyche, just perhaps the most annoying one.”
Rachel strolled to a leather sofa and sat, observing the room curiously. She hadn’t been in it since the day of her arrival. Computers sat beside each of the two desks. She wondered briefly how long it would take her to break the security codes on them.
“Are you thinking about trying your hand at it?”
Her hesitation was only slight, before she completed the act of crossing one leg over the other. “Trying my hand…?”
“At correcting those character flaws my mother failed at.” His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. “I’m modest enough to admit to a few, and patient enough to submit to your tutelage.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not planning on being one of those wives intent on improving their husbands.”
“No?” He seemed almost disappointed. “What will you be intent on?”
She shifted away from the sensitive subject. “It’s a little premature to be making any plans. I have three more weeks left in my trial period here.”
His smile faded, and his expression turned reflective. “Yes, you do.” Draining his glass, he set it on a nearby end table. “Maybe we should be making better use of that time. We could begin after dinner tonight. We’ll take a ride, so you can see more of the compound.”
Interest piqued, she agreed readily. “We should plan on dining earlier than usual. Daylight fades more quickly here than it does back east.”
He gave a slight nod. “Please tell Eliza to plan dinner for five-thirty.” He walked by her side to the door of the office. He waited until she was ready to walk through the door before adding, “Oh, and Rachel.” She looked back quizzically.
“Leave you hair down for me.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he watched her walk away with a gait that was all the more provocative because it was natural. If Rachel Grunwald was going to prove to be a distraction regardless of how much time they spent together, he reasoned, why should he limit that time? He’d never been a man to deny himself the pleasures of life, although admittedly, it would be the first time he’d consciously chosen to allow them to mix with business.
He shifted his gaze to Sutherland and Raymond, who was barely old enough to vote, but ready to sacrifice his life for The Brotherhood and their beliefs. “Soldier.” The young man snapped to attention. “You’ve been reassigned. You may go back to the detail you held prior to Miss Grunwald’s arrival.”
The soldier swallowed nervously, flicked a glance at Sutherland, and then nodded. “Yes, sir, General.” From the pace he set as he strode toward the door, his eagerness to vanish was clear.
Caleb turned and went back to the office, returning to his chair. After a moment, Kevin followed, closing the door behind him. When the other man remained standing, Caleb raised a quizzical brow. “Something on your mind, Kevin?”
Sutherland’s mouth was pressed in a thin flat line. “No, sir.”
It didn’t take much perception to realize the man was livid. “I think there is. Why don’t you spit it out so we can get on with our earlier discussion?”
“All right.” The colonel paced toward the desk, emotion carving deep furrows into his brow. “You countermanded my orders to that soldier, and undermined my position. I can’t command the men’s respect if you’re going to proceed that way.”
“I disagree that I undermined your position, Kevin.” Caleb’s desk chair squeaked as he leaned back in it. “Your place is my second in command, so the men shouldn’t think it strange that my orders take precedence. That’s what we train them for, isn’t it? To follow orders?” When the man remained silent, Caleb’s gaze narrowed. Sotto voce he inquired, “Or maybe it’s you who has forgotten who’s in command here.”
The colonel held his gaze for a long tension-filled moment, before finally looking away. “I haven’t forgotten, sir.”
“Good, because I don’t tolerate disrespect in my ranks. This is not a democracy. I’m in charge and I make the decisions.” A long pause followed, during which neither man spoke. “But, as always, I value your opinions. So I’m going to listen while you explain to me why you assigned a guard to Rachel Grunwald.”
Sutherland faced him squarely, not backing down an inch. “I would think that would be obvious, sir.”
“Indulge me.”
“Very well.” The man took a deep breath. “Because of the problems we had with the first two candidates I thought more proactive measures would be useful this time. We don’t want a reoccurrence of the trouble we experienced with them.”
Mention of the first two prospective candidates was jarring. Caleb hadn’t spared either of them a thought after they’d been dismissed. Somehow he knew that even if Rachel left the compound, memories of her wouldn’t be so easily banished. “Well, I hardly think it likely that we’d be so unlucky as to have attracted another candidate with sticky fingers or wandering eyes.”