Then his lips were moving over her taut midriff and down to the softness of her belly. The breath seemed to rush out of her body as she felt the warm moistness of his tongue stroke delicately at her navel while his hands moved in a rhythmic massage over the silky skin just below. He gently spread her thighs, one leg coming between her own. The fine hairs that coated his hard, muscular leg felt deliciously abrasive against the softness of her inner thighs, but the position was so submissive, so vulnerable, that she instinctively tried to close them against him.
His eyes were half shut, their glitter almost molten, as he lifted his head to gaze down at her. "Don't close me out, love." His fingers started a rhythmic stroking that sent a soaring response to every nerve in her body. Her hands reached out blindly to close on his shoulders.
She could hear his harsh, labored breath above her, but she was so lost in the haze of desire he was weaving about her that she was scarcely conscious of anything but the feeling within her. "Lord, it's almost worth it just to watch you and know that I can make you respond like this." His fingers suddenly rotated with a skill that caused her to jerk against him. His voice was oddly husky. "You're so damn beautiful." Then the broad hard line of his cheek was against the softness of her belly and he was rubbing it back and forth with slow, sensual pleasure. "So soft and sweet." His tongue darted out to stroke lazily. "You taste like all the good things on the face of the earth." His hands slowly curved around to cup her buttocks in the strong warmth of his hands. "Do the flowers in your garden taste as luscious, little Piper?" Then his hands were lifting her and he was discovering for himself.
She couldn't believe it. No sensation could be that intense. His tongue and lips worked with heated skill, until she was clutching at the dark silkiness of his head in an agony of need. Her body was being honed to a feverish pitch of hunger, and her reaction was so extreme that it was inevitable that that hunger would have to reach satiation swiftly. This time when the explosion of feeling came she was expecting it, but it didn't alter the fantastic delight she experienced in its aftermath.
She was vaguely conscious of Ryker moving, shifting to lie beside her on the bed. When he pulled her in his arms and settled her head in the hollow of his shoulder, it seemed so perfectly right and natural that she cuddled as contentedly close as if she had done it every night of her life. She was suddenly so weary that every muscle of her body felt leaden, and she was conscious of a lassitude that was blurring her senses and causing her mind to reject all thought.
She was in a state of languor so profound that it came as a little shock to realize the man holding her was far from being so relaxed. She gradually became aware that the arms holding her were coiled with tension and his heart was pounding beneath her ear. Her head moved uneasily on his shoulder, her dark braid splaying over his hair-roughened chest like a caressing hand. His breath constricted in his lungs, and she felt his heart give a little jerk. Even through the veil of exhaustion that was rapidly enveloping her, the knowledge that the man who now seemed an intimate extension of herself was not equally content filled her with a nagging sense of unhappiness. Then her lips curved in a relieved smile as she realized just how ridiculous she was being. None of this was real. Soon she would wake up and shake her head ruefully at the vividness of her fantasy.
"I'm glad one of us is happy," he muttered. His lips traced the winged darkness of her brow in a fairylike caress. "Go to sleep, pixie. I don't think I can take much more without going crazy." He reached for her hand and pressed it against his breast so that she could feel the leaping cadence of his heart. "Do you feel that? It's for you, love." He carried her hand to the muscles of his belly, which were painfully knotted. "And that's for you too." His voice was a soft velvet murmur in her ear.
He lifted the hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss on the delicate veins at her wrist. "When you wake up in a fury and start hating my guts, remember that, little Piper. I was the one who was used, not you. I took nothing from you but the knowledge of that lovely body and gave you comfort and pleasure in return." He released a long, shaky breath. "God, I hope you remember that."
But memory as well as consciousness vanished as her eyes closed and she fell peacefully asleep.
Chapter 4
The heavy velvet drapes were no longer drawn, and the late-afternoon sun streaming through the French windows danced over the highly polished surfaces of the exquisite furniture. Tania opened her eyes to a scene at once alien and familiar.
From the emerald-velvet canopy above her head, to the petit-point tapestry of the wing chair drawn close to the bed, to the cream and spring green of the antique rug on the floor, her gaze flew to the vacant pillow next to her own, and the indentation caused the adrenaline to pump through her system.
The truth hit her with the force of a blow. My God, it had all been real! The man who had held her until she fell asleep in his arms had been no fantasy figure. Jared Ryker's strong, sensitive hands had explored every curve of her body with such intimacy, his lips had . . .
"No!"
She threw the satin sheet aside and jumped out of bed. She was naked . . . exposed, vulnerable. That vulnerability stoked the fury building in her. Dammit, she had been kidnapped!
She jerked the sheet from the bed and wrapped it carelessly around her. It was impossible. Things like this just didn't happen in the United States. And where the
devil was she? With swift, impatient strides she crossed the room, threw open the French doors, and stepped out onto a stone balcony.
Mountains. Her gaze swept the horizon. Towering snow-crested peaks appeared to ring the house she was in. A chill greater than the one that whipped the satin sheet against her body settled into her spirit.
God, how she hated mountains. After the horror of her experience in the Andes, she had sworn she'd never set foot on a mountain again. And yet here she was, apparently in some sort of turreted stone castle that was nestling on top of one of the bloody things, and ringed with an entire range of other forbidding peaks. And all compliments of the arrogant Jared Ryker!
A growl of pure rage rose from her. How could anyone have the nerve to do what he'd done to her? It was all rushing back to her now with a vividness of detail that caused the color to burn her cheeks. Her thoughts quickly scuttled away from the more intimate physical details of those hours in Ryker's arms, to fasten on the words that would bring light to the confusion still afflicting her.
He had mentioned the name of that funny little man whose offer had so amused her. Betz. The connection was too obvious not to be made immediately. The staggeringly lucrative offer to become the mistress of a recluse for a six-week period had been made on behalf of Jared Ryker. The pitiful old eccentric of her imagination had been wild fabrication. Eccentric, Ryker might be, but there was nothing old or pitiful about him—though he might be a subject for considerable pity before she got through with him!
"Miss Orlinov?"
She whirled to face the tall, broad-shouldered man standing at the French doors. He was dressed in tan khakis and a brown crew-necked sweater. There was an
appealing smile on his face that lit his blunt, craggy features, set off by a crop of thick red hair.
"I knocked, but I guess you didn't hear me," he said. "My name is Kevin McCord." He grimaced. "I made the mistake of complaining to Jared earlier about the lack of challenge in my duties as an aide. He said facing you and trying to soothe your ruffled feathers would be a task worthy of a member of the Security Council of the United Nations." His bright blue eyes were mournful. "One of these days I'll learn to keep my mouth shut."
"Where is he? Where's Ryker?" Her voice was shaking with fury.
McCord took a step back in the bedroom. "I have a note for you from him," he said in a deep, soothing murmur. "You'll see him shortly. Now, why don't you come back inside and hear me do my stuff?" His gaze went over her sheet-wrapped form, and his face darkened in concern. "You shouldn't be out here dressed like that. The wind's damn sharp."
&
nbsp; "Your concern is touching," she said caustically as she strode toward him like a small, vengeful Valkyrie, her dark eyes blazing. "Considering it's thanks to your employer's very criminal actions that I'm not only here, but dressed—" she drew a deep breath before continuing between her teeth, "or should I say undressed in this fashion? And I don't want to see Ryker shortly, I want to see him now!"
McCord gestured to the blue-gray suitcase on the carpet beside him. "I'm sure you'd feel much happier and more secure tackling him dressed in something besides that sheet," he said. "That's why I brought your suitcase up. I understand that Jared ordered a complete wardrobe to be sent to the chateau in the next few days, but I thought you'd be more comfortable in your own things for a while."
"Do I have to tell you what Dr. Ryker can do with his wardrobe?"
McCord shook his head, his blue eyes twinkling. "I have an excellent imagination, and probably a more extensive vocabulary than you in that area, Miss Orlinov. I think I'll let you take that up with Jared yourself. However, I should warn you that the man can be more than a trifle intimidating when something annoys him." He gestured to a polished cherrywood door. "There's an adjoining bath that should have everything you need. Why don't you go shower and change into something more fitting your warlike mood? A lovely thing like you draped only in a satin sheet can be quite distracting when you're having a serious conversation."
"I'll do that," she said grimly as she bent down to pick up her suitcase. She marched toward the door he'd indicated. "Unfortunately, I neglected to pack anything that would do my feelings full justice. Suits of armor and battle-axes went out of style several centuries ago." She cast him a glance that was as razor-sharp as the ax she'd just mentioned. "I'll have a few things to say to you, too, Mr. McCord. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Wait for me." The door of the bathroom closed behind her with a decisiveness that, if not exactly a slam, was ominous enough to make McCord flinch.
With a rueful sigh he dropped into the tapestry-covered wing chair, stretched out his khaki-clad legs before him, and prepared to wait.
In less than the fifteen minutes she had designated, Tania was back in the room, dressed in jeans and a brilliant orange-and-cream ski sweater. She had removed the silver ribbon and diamond clip that had fastened her braid and arranged it in the severe coronet that had made Ryker think of a little girl playing dress-up. It was just as well that she wasn't aware of his comparison at the moment, for it would have goaded her rage.
"Now," she said coldly, halting before McCords chair. "Where's Jared Ryker?"
"We'll get to that presently," he said, rising politely to his feet. "But first I have to try to do the job I was assigned."
"And what is that?"
His lips curved in a grin. "Explanations and reassurances are supposed to be the name of the game. Actually, I think Ryker wanted me to take the fine edge off that temper before he had to face you. He's not considered a genius for nothing, you know."
"No, I didn't know," she snapped. "I know nothing about the man except that he's an arrogant hedonist with no respect for anything but his own wishes. Your employer may think he's rich enough to play king of the mountain here in his own private castle, but I think he'll find kidnapping not quite so amusing when I press charges once I get back to civilization." Her hands clenched at her sides. "How can he possibly think he can get away with it? I have friends and career commitments. People aren't going to just stand by and do nothing about my disappearance."
"Betz is amazingly thorough, and enough money can buy almost any form of cover-up." His lips twisted cynically. "Everything from forged notes to a telephone call that your own mother couldn't tell wasn't from you. And for the record, Jared Ryker isn't my employer," McCord added quietly. "Nor does he own the chateau. You might say we're both on loan. The chateau belongs to Senator Corbett." He raised a brow inquiringly. "Perhaps you've heard of him?"
Who in the United States hadn't heard of him? Tania wondered, stunned. A wealthy industrialist with a political family background so prestigious that it was thought by many analysts to be only a matter of time before he was catapulted into the presidency. Son of a Supreme Court judge and grandson of an ambassador, he possessed a keen intelligence combined with a boyish charisma that was quickly making him a power to be reckoned with. That Sam Corbett could have anything t do with an act so politically damaging and criminal as kidnapping was utterly, outrageous.
McCord must have read the skepticism in her face. "It's all quite true," he said. "And I assure you that S Corbett isn't usually involved in anything so asinine this piece of business. I've been his aide for the past two years and never been involved in anything more criminal than trying to dissuade a traffic cop from giving the senator a parking ticket. Please believe me when I tell you that your abduction wasn't planned by either Jared or the senator. The action was taken by Betz, the senator's head of security, on his own initiative." H shrugged. "Unfortunately, it's too late now to do anything about it."
"I think there's a great deal you can do about it, Tania said, her eyes flashing. "To begin with, you can release me and return me to New York."
He shook his head regretfully. "I honestly wish that were as easy as it sounds, but even the senator would agree that course is closed to us. You'll have to stay until they're ready for Ryker in Washington. Well try to make certain that you have every comfort while you're waiting, and suitable compensation once you've returned to New York."
"Suitable comp ..." Her words were choked off by sheer fury. "And just what do you consider compensation for kidnapping and drugging me, Mr. McCord? Perhaps, like your charming cohort, Mr. Betz, you'd like to add another hundred thousand or so and have me hop into your friend Ryker's bed in gratitude?" Her voice rose. "This is incredible. How could Ryker's whim cause a man as powerful as Sam Corbett to jump through hoops? To do such a callous and outrageous thing?"
"As I said before, bringing you here wasn't Jared Ryker's idea, Miss Orlinov." Kevin paused. "But I think you should know he wields a power that dims Corbett's by comparison. I wouldn't anger Jared if I were you."
"I risked my life to escape from a country run by dictators, Mr. McCord," she bit out. "It's a breed I know well, and I've never been afraid of anything that I know well enough to battle."
"But then, you've never been up against a battle of this magnitude," he said softly. "For starters, all Ryker would have to do was lift a finger and the U.S. government would return you to those dictators you mentioned."
Tania's eyes widened. "Impossible. I defected and claimed asylum. In two years I'll be a United States citizen. He couldn't—"
"He could," Kevin said softly. "I'm not saying he'd do it, but he definitely could, Miss Orlinov. A power struggle is shaping up on a scale that's never been known before, and Ryker is the prize everyone will be battling for. Neither Russia nor the U.S. would bat an eye at giving him anything his heart desires."
"Or his body desires?" she asked caustically.
"That too."
"Who the hell is Jared Ryker? What has he done? Created some sort of superbomb, or something?"
"You might say that." There was a curiously bitter smile on Kevin McCords lips. "It certainly has the same potential for explosion. It's not my place to discuss Ryker's work with you, I'm afraid. He's already given instructions that you're to be kept as much in the dark as possible regarding the project. He thinks it may prove safer for you."
"It's a little late for him to express concern," Tania said curtly. "I've been kidnapped, drugged, and now you say I have every chance of being deported unless I submit to Ryker's every wish. You can't expect me to believe that he's worried about my safety."
He shrugged. "I know it's hard for you to accept that no one here is really a threat to you if you'll only try to cooperate."
"Not even Jared Ryker?"
"Ryker's not an easy man to know," he said slowly. "He keeps a hell of a lot of what he's thinking and feeling under wraps. Perhaps in his position I might do the
same." His likable, rough-hewn features were thoughtful. "He's probably tougher than any man I've ever run across, but I think that if he'd let anyone get close enough he'd be a friend you could trust to hell and back."
"I'm sure he'd be grateful for your character endorsement, but I'm afraid I can't appreciate it," Tania said. "Nor do I intend to submit meekly to the kind of treatment I've been subjected to." Her dark eyes were smoldering. "Now that I've listened to what you've had to say, am I to be allowed to see the great man?"
"Why not?" He reached into the back pocket of his khakis and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I've done my duty. Let him take some of the flak." He handed her a note. "There's one other thing I should explain before I let you go." His blue eyes were suddenly serious. "Betz's security staff may be unobtrusive, but you'll find them very much in evidence if you make an attempt to leave the chateau. They're efficient and more than a little lethal if need be. There's not a servant or guard in the chateau who's not completely loyal to Betz." His voice was ominously soft. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that we're not entirely determined about this, Miss Orlinov."
Tania felt a tiny chill run through her as she met McCord's steady gaze. The threat was couched in the most courteous of terms, but it was a threat nonetheless. She raised her chin defiantly. She had faced threats before and come through victorious. This was just another challenge to be met. She unfolded the note and scanned it quickly. The message was terse, scrawled in bold black script.
If you want to see me, I'll be at the birch grove.
Ryker
If she wanted to see him? Oh, yes, there was no question that she wanted to see Dr. Jared Ryker!
She glanced up at McCord. "Where is this grove he waits in?"
"You go through the courtyard and the formal gardens to a small stand of birch trees," McCord supplied. "I might have known Jared would choose his favorite place on the grounds." She was already striding quickly to the door. "You'd better take a jacket— temperatures in the Laurentians this time of year aren't exactly balmy."