Chapter 6 #2
"I am not a child." She had been trying to be calm and had told herself that she was halfway there after her quick shower and the sandwiches she had made, but that was a blatant lie, and seeing him here now, seeing the look on his face, she felt her heart sinking.
Snagging his arm, she forced him to stop.
"I am going into this with my eyes wide open."
"Obviously not, or you would not be going into something as ridiculous as marrying a man you don't know." His eyes glittered. "And a Wainwright at that."
"I know what I am doing," she insisted. "And I would appreciate you not taking out your anger on Jordan."
His brows winged up. "I'm pretty sure the guy can take care of himself."
"He can."
They both turned to see the subject of their conversation leaning against the doorway, his stance deliberately casual.
The fact that he looked so much at home had Caleb's blood boiling even more.
"We need to talk."
"Of course we do." Jordan waited for them to join him on the porch. Ignoring the bristling man next to her, he took Julesa's hand in his, expression softening. "Could you give us a minute?"
"What?" Her gaze swung from him to Caleb, and she shook her head. "No."
"Please." He started rubbing his hand over hers in an unconsciously gentle manner. As he was looking at her, he failed to see the surprise and then speculation that leapt in Caleb's eyes as he watched them.
His face settled in a neutral expression when Jordan glanced at him. "We are civilized men aren't we? I am assuming you're not armed?"
A reluctant smile tugged at Caleb's lips. "Unarmed. Had to leave my piece behind in order to board the plane." He turned to his sister. "No bloodshed. I promise."
"That's not funny."
Kissing her on the cheek, he nudged her towards the door. "We'll be fine."
Hesitating briefly, she divided a look between the two men as if searching for the truth. Then with a fatalistic shrug, she left them alone and went inside, closing the door behind her.
"Shall we?" Jordan gestured towards the yard.
With a curt nod, Caleb preceded him down the steps and turned right. It was a fairly big yard with flowers blossoming everywhere. Birdhouses were erected every few feet and the sounds of their chirpings filled the air.
They came to stop at a flowering bed of daffodils and an old wooden bench propped drunkenly against a towering redwood.
Neither man thought to take a seat.
"Smoke?"
Caleb glanced at the open gold case; his lips curled derisively.
"You're a smoker."
Jordan grinned wryly. Taking a slender cigar, he lighted it and put the case away. "I take it you're not."
"It's a disgusting habit and bad for your health."
Jordan shrugged. "You're right of course. It's one vice I have not been able to give up. And it steadies me when I'm faced with a situation." His eyes narrowed against the smoke drifting upwards.
"What the hell game are you playing at?"
Propping one foot on the bench, Jordan lifted his head and stared at the brilliant sky.
"It's not a game."
"You're using my sister."
"We're using each other." His expression hardened. "And she's an adult."
"I will not have you contaminating her."
A startled laugh escaped him. Pitching the barely smoked cigar away, Jordan turned to face the bristling man. "Contaminate? That's a strange term. Makes it sound as if I have a disease."
"You're a Wainwright," Caleb pointed out grimly as if that explains everything.
"So, I am." Shoving away from the bench, he wandered over to the flowering plant and watched as a bee industriously gathered pollen. He could feel a low-grade headache coming on and wished he could just go somewhere and lie down and forget who he was.
"I care about her. It started out as an arrangement but has been upgraded.
" He turned to look at the other man and wondered why the hell he was telling him this.
"She hates the name, but miraculously, does not hate me.
" He hunched his shoulders as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his denims. "I could not bear it if she did.
" His amber eyes lifted to stare at Caleb as if daring him to question his motives.
"What the hell are you saying?" he demanded. But Caleb already knew. He had seen the way the man looked at his sister and recognized the look. He really cares.
"Nothing that's any of your business. I won't hurt her."
"Of course you will," Caleb snapped out impatiently.
"You're human and being human, you will of course hurt her without meaning to.
" He turned away abruptly, not willing to accept what he was seeing with his own eyes.
Wainwright could have any woman he wanted and even though Julesa was an exceptionally beautiful woman, she was not one of them.
His sister had a heart of gold and had been disappointed too many times in life.
She also had a lousy track record when it comes to relationships. It was his job to protect her, whether she wanted it or not.
"Do we have your blessings?"
Instead of answering, Caleb fired a question at him. "What do your parents think of all this?"
Lifting his chin, Jordan looked him straight in the eyes. "They are beside themselves with distress."
"Good." Caleb's voice was grim with satisfaction. "I hope it burns their asses to have a black woman in their family."
"It does."
"Then you have my complete blessing. Let's go and ease my sister's mind."
*****
"What did you two talk about?"
Jordan had left a few minutes ago after sitting with them for a meal she had prepared.
Now Caleb was stretched out on the faded rose patterned sofa, his head propped on a cushion on her lap. He was half asleep and could feel the jetlag combined with the heavy lunch and dinner settling on him like a warm cloak.
"Hmm?"
"You and Jordan, what did you talk about? I expected to be marching out there to play referee, only to see both of you being civilized. What happened?"
He grinned at her. "We're civilized men."
"Caleb." He winced as she poked him in the forehead.
"You're assaulting an officer. There are penalties attached."
"Lock me up. Are you really okay with what I am doing?"
"Not a hundred percent. I think you're in over your head."
"I know what I'm doing."
Tilting his head back, he studied her face. "Do you?"
She nodded. "I want you to trust me."
"Unequivocally."
She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," he warned. "If he hurts you-"
"Caleb-"
"If I see one sad look on that beautiful face of yours, I'm coming for him."
"It's just an arrangement," she reminded him.
"Hmm." He had seen the look on Wainwright's face and recognized it for what it was.
At dinner, he couldn't keep his eyes off her and he used every opportunity to touch her.
A little bit here and there. Light touches so that it would not be too obvious.
Because the guy did not want to overplay his hand.
It was going to be interesting to see how this plays out, he mused.
*****
She watched him through the mirror as she methodically brushed her hair.
The silk of her rose-colored robe slid against her skin, causing friction.
One hundred strokes. Every night without fail as she had been taught by her mother.
The woman had never extended a loving hand or even a casual embrace but had drummed it into her head about the one hundred strokes.
"Unkempt hair is uncalled for."
Now seated around her exquisite vanity, with the carved heirloom brush in her hand, she watched her husband prowl around the room restlessly.
They had had an argument after supper in the privacy of her sitting room about their son and the options opened to them and he had been of little help as usual.
"Would you mind telling me why you're wandering around the place?" But she knew. She saw the look on his face. He wanted to go to bed. She almost laughed at that. As if she would make him touch her. He was welcome to his whores as long as he left her alone.
Coming up behind her, he placed his hands on her slender shoulders, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "I don't like fighting with you."
She tried to shrug him off, but he only held on.
And she wasn't in the mood to play tug of war.
She wasn't into anything that uncivilized.
"Then you should do something about the catastrophic event that's about to happen in our family.
We simply cannot allow Jordan to marry that girl. What will people think?"
He managed a small grim smile as he kneaded her shoulders.
Her skin was soft and white and delicate, and he could feel it through the wispy thinness of her robe.
He wanted her. Had decided against going to Joani tonight.
It had been so long since he felt his wife's silky skin against his and he wanted to experience it again.
"I don't think people will care one way or another." His touch turned intimate and had her eyes narrowing.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Caressing my wife." He continued to do so, his eyes holding hers. "Trying to recreate magic." His voice dropped to a husky baritone. "Trying to get you in the mood."
She actually laughed. Pushing him away, she rose, putting the brush down.
Slipping out of the robe to reveal an exquisite lace nightgown, she made her way over to the bed.
The maid had turned the sheets precisely the way she wanted it.
Sliding between the cool sheets, she waved a hand at him. "Turn the lights out when you leave."
Staring at her in mute despair, he turned on his heels and left without doing so. With a sigh and not even a ripple of annoyance, Jacquleine turned the lamp off.