Always Page 7

  "Yeah. At least, I think so. They left at the same time, anyway. Why? Did you need him for something?"

  "No, no. That is.,. It's not important. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

  "Okay. See ya, Red."

  When he had gone, Meghan exhaled a sigh of relief. It was good to know that Rhys had gone.

  He was still furious with her. He had been ever since Mrs. Amboy's party. She had arrived more than an hour late. He had tried to corner her several times, but she had managed to avoid him most of the evening. During the limb ride back to their hotel, Quincy's presence had prevented any personal conversation, and as an added precaution she had pretended to fall asleep.

  That had been five days ago, but Rhys continued to seek her out almost nightly with offers of a late supper or a ride back to their hotel, or to the airport if they happened to be leaving directly from a performance. It had taken a lot of ingenuous excuses and fancy footwork on Meghan's part to decline the invitations—if you wanted to call them that. Most had been more like commands.

  Secure in the knowledge that Rhys was gone, Meghan methodically worked her way through her list of last-minute chores. She met with the stage manager regarding a slight change in the next evening's performance and Allen's complaint that the pedals on the piano were sticking. She gathered all telegrams and the cards from the flowers Rhys had received so that she could drop notes to the senders. She also checked both Allen's and Rhys's dressing rooms for anything that might have been left behind.

  Most of the jobs were minor and could have been left until the next day, but Meghan had gotten into the habit of using the busywork as an excuse to stay late and avoid riding back to the hotel with Rhys.

  Half an hour after Allen and the others had left she told the night watchman goodbye and stepped through the stage door into the humid Houston night. Barely three steps from the door she came to an abrupt halt.

  Feet outstretched and crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest, Rhys stood with his hips propped against the rear fender of the white stretch limo parked in the alley.

  "Rhys. Wh-what are you doing here? I uh, I thought you'd left with Quincy."

  A frisson of alarm rippled through Meghan. He remained still and his expression gave nothing away, but those pale eyes were locked on her with disconcerting intensity. Everything about him radiated purpose and determination.

  "No. I've been waiting for you," he stated, and the steely resolution in his voice sent another little shiver through her.

  "You...you shouldn't have bothered. Really. I've already called a cab and—"

  "I know. I dismissed him."

  "What? But-"

  He pushed away from the limo. Meghan instinctively backed away, but he covered the space between them in two strides and took her arm in a firm grip.

  "You don't need a taxi. You're coming with me."

  "No, I— Wait. Rhys, what are you doing?" She tried to dig in her heels, but he hauled her to the limo with ridiculous ease and stuffed her inside. She huffed and sputtered, but before she could recover he climbed in beside her and a terse command to the driver set the vehicle in motion.

  Meghan's gaze darted around. At that point, even Quincy's obnoxious presence would have been welcomed, but with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realized that she was alone with Rhys in the back of the cavernous vehicle. Even the soundproof smoked-glass partition between them and the driver was closed.

  Panic whooshed through her like the beating wings of a predatory bird. The only defense she had against it was anger. She shot Rhys a blistering look.

  "Was that necessary?"

  "It would seem so," he replied with maddening calm. "I've tried everything else with no luck, so I decided it was time to take the gloves off."

  The wings flapped again, taking her breath, but she battled down the uneasy sensation and gave him a haughty look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Oh, I think you do. But just so we're clear... You and I are going to have a talk, the one we should've had eight years ago."

  "No, I don't wa—"

  "I don't give a tinker's damn whether you want to talk about it or not. I'm fed up with getting the cold shoulder from you. What's more, I'm damned tired of feeling guilty, so we're going to clear the air, once and for all."

  Meghan slanted him a sullen look. "There's no reason for you to feel guilty."

  "Yeah, well, I keep telling myself that, but I do, anyway. I have ever since that night."

  The mention of that night brought scalding color to her face. She cross her arms and stared out the side window, her mouth pinched. "I said I don't want to talk about that."

  "Tough. I've got some questions that I want answered. Like, what the devil did you think you were doing? You were an innocent, for Pete's sake: I could have hurt you badly. Or gotten you pregnant."

  He went utterly still, and from the corner of her eye, Meghan saw him scowl. "Or maybe I did. Is that what all this hostility is about?" he demanded. "You had my child and didn't want to tell me?"

  Meghan shot him a disgusted look. "Of course not." Not that she hadn't done her share of worrying about that possibility for several weeks, herself. Until she'd had her monthly cycle she had been racked with anxiety. It had never occurred to her that Rhys might be concerned, too.

  Eyes narrowed, he searched her face for several seconds, as though be could probe beneath the surface and ferret out the truth. After a minute he relaxed.

  "Well, at least there's that," he muttered. "Still, you might have told me. Didn't you think I'd be worried?"

  Meghan kept her gaze averted and remained mute.

  He waited several seconds. "Dammit, will you say something? Tell me why you did such an about-face. Why wouldn't you accept my calls, or talk to me when I finally ran you to ground? When I left my apartment that night you were still starry-eyed. What happened to change that?"

  Pointedly ignoring him, Meghan set her jaw and stared out the window. Her intransigence sparked Rhys's temper, and he responded by peppering her with more questions, interspersing them with a string of curses that would have done a sailor proud, which in turn made Meghan bow her neck even more.

  They were both so caught up in the battle of wills it was some time before Meghan noticed that what should have been a ten-minute drive to their hotel had stretched into forty-five.

  She immediately assumed Rhys was to blame and turned on him with a furious, "Just what do you think you're doing?" cutting him off in mid-sentence.

  He blinked, startled by the sudden question. "Well, what do you know? She can talk after all. I was beginning to think you'd turned deaf and mute. And I think I've made myself clear— I'm trying to get you to talk about what happened between us eight years ago."

  "That's not what I mean and you know it. If you think you can drive me around until I give in, you're sadly mistaken. Hell will freeze over first. I demand that you take me back to the hotel this minute."

  "What are you talking about? I am taking you to the hold."

  "Then why aren't we there yet? And why have we left the city behind?"

  "What?" Rhys looked out his window and frowned. On either side of the limousine the darkness stretched out over marshland. Only an occasional light twinkling here and there. "What the devil-?"

  "Don't tell me this idiot driver is lost." He punched the intercom button and a second later a disembodied voice said, "You want something, Mr. Morgan?"

  "Yes, dammit. I want to know what's going on. We're nowhere near Houston, much less our hotel."

  The nasty chuckle that came from the speaker sent a chill down Meghan's spine. "It took you long enough to notice. You and that cute, Utile redhead sure must of been busy back there."

  Meghan saw Rhys's jaw clench. "Turn this car around and take us to our hotel," he growled. "Now."

  "Sorry. No can do."

  Rhys tensed, and something in his voice caused Meghan's heart to start beating in staccato rhythm.

  "What
the hell do you mean, you can't?"

  The chilling laugh sounded again, and the fine hairs on her arms stood on end.

  "Just relax and cooperate, Mr. Morgan, and you'n the lady won't get hurt."

  Rhys bit off a livid curse.

  "Rhys? W-what does he mean? What's going on?"

  He looked at her, his eyes shimmering like ice. He was so angry he had to force the words out between his clenched teeth. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe we're being abducted."

  Chapter Five

  "Abducted?" She stared at Rhys's grim expression and swallowed hard: "You... you mean... as in kidnapped?"

  "Yes."

  The terse reply sent panic streaking through Meghan. Her gaze darted around the shadowy interior of the vehicle, then swung back to Rhys. "Well, don't just sit there. Aren't you going to do something?"

  The look he gave her reeked disgust. "What, exactly, do you suggest?"

  "I don't know. Couldn't we break the glass and overpower him? Or maybe we could jump out.''

  "Oh, that's brilliant. Hell, woman, we must be going seventy. Anyway, the doors are locked and the controls are up front. As for kicking out that glass partition, forget it. That stuff is half an inch thick. It would take a mule to kick it out."

  "Well, we've got to do something! We can't just let that goon kidnap us!"

  "Yeah, well, for the moment I don't think we have much choice."

  His calm acceptance turned Meghan's fear into anger. "Well, I'll be darned if I'll just sit here and do nothing." Shooting him a blistering look, she sprang off the seat she shared with Rhys and knelt on the rear-facing one that butted up against the driver's compartment.

  "Meghan, get back here," Rhys commanded, but he could have saved his breath.

  Ignoring him, she whipped off her shoe and whacked the glass three times with the stiletto heel. The driver jumped and the limo swerved sharply with a squeal of tires.

  Meghan shrieked as she took a sprawling tumble across the seat, and Rhys slammed up against the door and bounced off.

  "Dammit, Meghan—"

  She scrambled backup on her knees and beat on the partition again. "Hey, you in there! Driver! I demand that you turn this thing around this minute." She gave the glass another rap. "Do you hear me! Stop this car!"

  "Hellfire, woman!" the driver's voice squawked over the intercom. "Are you nuts? You're gonna get us all killed, pulling a stunt like that."

  Meghan hammered the glass again, and the air in the back of the limo turned blue as a string of curses spewed through the speaker. "For pity's sake, Morgan! Can't you control that crazy female!'' their abductor yelled.

  "I'm doing my best," Rhys muttered. As she raised the shoe again he came up off the seat and snatched the high-heeled pump out of her hand.

  Before Meghan could do more than screech a protest he tossed the shoe aside, hooked both arms around her middle and hauled her back. Taking her with him, Rhys flopped back onto the other seat. Meghan ended up sprawled on his lap.

  At once, she shrieked and began to struggle. "Will... you...let me...go!" she sputtered. She kicked and bucked and pitched, and Rhys grunted when she landed a sharp jab in his ribs with her elbow.

  "Meghan, behave! You've got to calm down. You— Ow! Dammit, will you stop that!"

  "No. Let... me.. .go!" she demanded and elbowed him again.

  "Allright. That's it."

  Rhys reared up in a twisting lunge, and the next thing Meghan knew her back hit the seat and her breath left her lungs with a loud whoosh. By the time she could breathe again Rhys lay sprawled on top of her.

  "Get off me, you jerk."

  "Not until you listen to reason. You're just wasting time and energy banging on that glass. We'd be better off using this time to put our heads together and come up with a pla-"

  He cursed under his breath when she tried to knee him. A struggle ensued, and for several minutes the only sounds in the back seat were grunts and gasps and low, muttered curses.

  "Dammit, will you knock it off and listen to m—"

  "No! Let me go! Now!"

  "Meghan, I'm warning you—"

  She screamed—right in his face—a high-pitched, ear-piercing sound that made his eyes cross and his ears ring. Acting on instinct, Rhys released one of her wrists to put his hand over her mouth, but he immediately realized his mistake when she bit his palm.

  "Ow!" he yelped, and snatched his hand back. All the while, Meghan pummeled his back with her fist.

  He finally managed to recapture her free hand but the shrill screaming continued unabated, despite his repeated commands for her to shut up.

  "All right That's it," he bit out. "If you won't listen to reason, we'll do this the hard way. There's one sure way to shut you up," he muttered and lowered his head.

  His mouth captured hers, swallowing up her shrill scream. The muffled sound cut off almost at once, and Meghan stilled as shock and disbelief rippled through her. Hard on their heels came outrage.

  She stiffened, then tried to struggle, but this time Rhys was prepared for her resistance. He held her fast, pinning her to the seat with his body, her wrists firmly manacled in one of his hands as his mouth plundered and ravished.

  It was a dominant kiss, hard and relentless, full of power and anger and arrogant male mastery. It conquered and took and impatiently demanded total surrender. At the same time, it urged a response.

  Meghan fought against it, fought to hold on to her anger and outrage and sense of purpose, fought to resist the drugging power of the kiss.' Even so, with each passing second, each thrust of Rhys's tongue, each rock of his lips on hers, her will slipped a little more. She didn't want to feel this sharp tug of desire, the thrilling ripples of passion that coursed through her, or the delicious quickening in her feminine core. Not for Rhys. Never again for Rhys. It simply wasn't fair!

  Fair or not, anger and good intentions were no match against the potent combination of Rhys's expertise and the explosive chemistry between them. Little by little, the fight went out of Meghan and her traitorous body softened and thrummed as desire built within her to a fever pitch. Soon, without her quite knowing how it happened, her hands were clutching at his back, his hair, her legs twining with his. She returned his kiss with eager abandon, her body arching against his as desperate whimpers rolled from her throat.

  At last Rhys broke the kiss and raised his head. They stared at each other in shocked silence. They were breathing hard, their hearts thundering in unison. Both were so stunned they momentarily forgot where they were and their dire situation.

  Then the limousine slowed and the hum of the tires changed to a rumble as they left the paving and began to bump over a rough surface.

  Rhys's head came up sharply, like a wild animal sensing danger. "Listen. It sounds like we're crossing a wooden bridge. Uh-oh, I think we're stopping."

  Meghan made a distressed sound and shoved at Rhys's shoulders, but before either of them could move, the limo screeched to a halt and both rear doors were snatched open.

  "Freeze, Morgan. Make one move before I tell you and you're dead."

  The chilling command came from the doorway by their feet. Meghan felt Rhys stiffen and she made a strangled sound and closed her eyes.

  A few seconds of pregnant, silence followed, then a snicker sounded just above their heads. "Well, just lookee here. I'd heard you was a lover, but you don't waste no time a'tall, do you, Morgan?"

  The owner of the taunting voice bent down to look at his partner in crime through the limo's interior. "Do you believe this, Virgil? Even while he's gettin' kidnapped this guy's gettin' it on in the back seat. Now you gotta admire a stud like that."

  "Dammit, you idiot. Didn't I tell you not to use names?"

  "Aw, shoot, what difference does it make? Anyhow, I didn't tell 'um yore last name, so it don't really matter."

  "Is that right? Well, in that case you won't mind if they know yore's too, willya, Harley," the other man sneered.

  During the exchange Meghan
opened her eyes to slits. The first thing she saw was the gun pointing at Rhys's forehead. She gasped and shut her eyes tight again.

  An insolent chuckle rumbled from the man standing over her and Rhys. He bent down, so close she could smell his foul breath. "Ah, now, what's a'matter, sugar? You scairt?"

  Cautiously, Meghan opened her eyes and stared at the beefy hand holding the weapon. Her heart caromed and thumped like an ancient jalopy. Arching her neck, she tipped her head back and followed the hairy arm upward and gasped again when her gaze encountered the leering face grinning down at her.