Undercover Bride. Kylie Brant
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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