Sacrifice (10 page)

She exploded, only dimly aware of
Jared’s semen jetting hot and hard down her throat, and the flex and throb of
the cock in her ass releasing as well. All she knew, all she could process was
the pleasure burning her, rocking her…destroying her.

She fell to her side, curling into
a tight ball as her muscles shuddered and her pussy began to flex in protest.
And she knew, despite the agonizing ecstasy that still echoed through her, that
never again would the driving pleasure mixed with pain ease the terrible ache
in her body. It had only triggered a hunger for more. A hunger she knew only
one man would ever ease…

Jared stood inside the shower,
feeling the spray pounding on his back as he leaned his forehead against the
tile wall. His eyes were closed, every muscle tight with the effort to control
the raging demand that pounded through his body and his mind.

She was his, goddammit. The fierce
demand raged through his mind. His heart. His fucking soul and he was wasting
away beneath the force of the water rather than laying in satisfied exhaustion
in her arms.

The ménage with Ian should have
stilled part of the hunger, but it only made it worse. It wasn’t enough.
Nothing he knew now would ever truly be enough until he took her as he was
meant to.

His cock was like living stone,
near to bursting with the raging of his emotions. He could taste her on his
tongue, feel her on his skin. He could still hear her ragged cry as she
convulsed beneath him. Did she even realize what she had cried? Could she know
the effect her words had on him?

“…not enough…oh God, Jared, it’s
not enough…” The words had been a ragged, nearly incoherent cry as she
shuddered through her earlier orgasm.

No, it hadn’t been enough. It would
never be enough.

Would he live another five fucking
years before he could claim her? He grit his teeth at the thought of it. It
would be a hell he could have never imagined before now. Hell yes, he would
wait. But it would fucking kill him.

“Jared?” Her voice was a whisper of
hunger, of the needs that raged within him as well.

He opened his eyes, ignoring the
water that poured over him as his turned to meet her gaze.

Her green eyes were dark with pain,
with goodbye. Fuck. Not yet. He wasn’t ready yet.

“The Agency just called.” His heart
clenched at the sound of her voice, at the misery in it. “The threat has been
deemed a prank. I’ve been called back first thing in the morning.”

She had put her robe back on, had
belted it tightly around her waist and pushed her hands deep into the little
pockets at the side. Her hands were clenched, her fingers bunched together to
restrain the pain he saw reflected in her gaze.

“Fuck.” What now? Damn them, he
wasn’t ready to let her go, wasn’t prepared to do without her warmth in his
bed. Son of a bitch, he had just managed to get her into it.

“Jared…” He watched her swallow
convulsively; saw the regret that filled her eyes, and the tears.

“No!” he growled.

Straightening abruptly he jerked
her into the shower, ignoring her gasp, pushing aside the knowledge that no
matter how hard he wanted, how much he loved, that it was time for her to go.

“I’ll always be here.” His arms
wrapped around her, pulled her against his chest as he maneuvered his body to
protect her from the full force of the water. “Always Kimber. I’ll be right
here, baby, anytime you need me. Anyway you want me. I’ll be here.”

Her arms tightened around his
shoulders, holding fiercely to him as he felt the heat of her tears against his
chest. God surely hadn’t meant for a man to have to endure this sorrow? He
prayed for mercy, because he couldn’t cry with her.

Leaving the farm was the hardest
thing Kimberly had ever done in her life. She didn’t think she would have the
strength to do it. Not after the past night. Not after the realizations she had
come to herself.

But she did it. She threw her
suitcase into the SUV where Matthews sat waiting on her. The others had left
hours before, eager to get back to the offices, file their reports and head
into more adventurous assignments. Kimberly hadn’t been able to tear herself
away as easily.

Jared stood behind her silently. He
had watched her pack, his expression worn, his gaze turbulent. But he hadn’t
made any demands, hadn’t asked for any promises, he was simply letting her go.
Reluctantly, she could tell, but he was letting her go.

She turned back to him as she
closed the rear door, staring up at him, realizing that the pain in her chest
was more than just regret. It was a hollow, gaping wound she feared would never
ease.

“Remember to let Mother know when
you’re back in town,” he told her softly. “She worries, even if she never says
anything.”

Kimberly nodded, smiling though her
heart was breaking. “First thing,” she agreed.

“And don’t drive too fast,” he
growled. “Matthews told me you scared the hell out of him on the way up here.
The man has a family to feed you know. Stop risking his life.”

She would have laughed if it hadn’t
hurt so damned bad.

“And remember, you always have a
place to stay here,” he finished. “Anytime, Kimber. All the time.”

She wanted to weep at the softness
of his voice.

“Jared…” There was so much she
wanted to say.

“No.” He shook his head
regretfully, reaching out to touch her cheek with a caress so light, so tender
she felt it rock her soul. “Just remember that, baby. You know where I’m at if
you need me. Always.”

She had to look away from him or
she would never hold back her tears. How was she walking away from him? She
could feel everything inside her screaming out in rage that she would do so.

“Go,” he said then. “You’ll be late
getting back if you don’t leave soon.”

Her lips trembled as she turned
back to him. She blinked fiercely to hold back her tears, fighting her head and
her heart as she stared up at him.

She loved him. She could feel the
emotion exploding within her, violently protesting the decision to leave, to
stand firm to the vow she had made so long ago.

“I want…” He cut her words off,
laying his fingers against her lips as he flinched slightly.

“Don’t, Kimber,” he whispered.
“Don’t make letting you go impossible for me to do. Or for you to do. There’s
always tomorrow. We aren’t saying goodbye, remember?”

She licked her lips, feeling her
soul shatter. God help her. He loved her. She could see it in his eyes, in that
crooked, pain-filled smile that was hers alone. It was hers alone because he
loved her.

She was barely aware of the whimper
that left her throat but there was no mistaking the strength, the need in his
body as he jerked her against him, holding her tight to his chest, sheltering
her with his big body as one hand held her head to him.

“Listen to me,” he growled
fiercely. “You don’t have to say anything, Kimber. You don’t have to do
anything. Come back when you need to. Know I’ll be here. That’s all. Damn you,
this isn’t forever. I won’t let it be.”

He pulled her head back, his
fingers tangling in her hair, destroying the perfection of the intricate braid
she had painstakingly worked the strands into. But she didn’t care. He was
holding her, his lips were on hers, his tongue taking possession of her mouth,
wiping away the destructive agony piercing her soul. It wasn’t goodbye. Not
yet.

One hand gripped her hip, rocking
her against his erection as his mouth ate at hers, his groan vibrating against
her lips as the hunger that raged between them began to gnaw at her resolve.

“Damn, you’re going to send me up
in flames right here in my driveway, woman. Is that any example for me to set
for my work hands?” He dragged his lips from hers, a weary, entirely false
spurt of laughter leaving his lips as he stared down at her. “I’m too old for
this, baby. Now get out of here, so I can get some work done.”

He stepped back from her, ripping
her heart from her chest when he did so.

“Go on,” his voice softened as he
nodded at the jeep. “I’ll see you soon.”

She backed away. She couldn’t turn
away from him.

“Soon?” She heard the desperate
plea in her own voice.

“Very soon, baby,” he promised.
“Anytime you need me.”

“What about when you need me?” she
wondered aloud.

His expression flinched. A subtle
expression of pain that had her stilling the cry in her throat.

“I’ll always need you, Kimber,” he
said softly, roughly. “Always.”

She had turned away from him.
Walked away. With every step she felt the regret grow, felt the knowledge
weighing on her soul. She was making the same choice five generations of women
before her had made. She was choosing the past over the future.

The further she drove away from
him, the more that knowledge was driven home. In the space of a year, he had
steadily weakened her resolve, shown her laughter, patience, and a hunger she
hadn’t known could exist. He had filled her dreams, waking and asleep, and he
had reshaped her views of herself.

“What now?” she asked aloud,
unwilling to hold back the pain, unable to bear the separation in silence.

“Only you can answer that one,
Kimberly.” Matthews reminded her that she wasn’t alone, and that the rest of
the world wasn’t blind. “He’s a good man. I hope you know that.”

She glanced over at him, seeing the
compassion and sympathy in his eyes.

“He’s the best,” she said slowly,
her gaze returning to the road as her fingers clenched on the steering wheel.

“My daddy always said anything
worth having was worth waiting on,” he finally said philosophically. “Guess
you’ll have to find that one out for yourself though, huh?”

Jared was worth waiting on, but for
what reason? She shook her head as she watched the road, counting the miles as
they separated her from the farm and the man awaiting her there. He was worth
waiting on. But was she?

Briar Cliff. A week later, Kimberly
turned into the long driveway that led to the stately Pennsylvania estate. Huge
oaks lined the paved road, casting a dappled pattern of sunlight and shade over
the dark path. She had once found it comforting, the sheltering limbs as they
spread over the road, embracing each arrival. Now, she found it oppressive,
restraining.

Pulling into the long circular
driveway, Kimberly drew in a deep breath as she attempted to control the
emotions overwhelming her. She hadn’t returned to the home she had been raised
in, since her mother’s death. The conditions of the Trust would have allowed her
to live there; her father would have preferred it because he could not continue
residence there without her. Which had been one of the main reasons she had
refused to stay.

It hurt, remembering the past. For
years she had tried to block the memories, to keep from reliving the pain and
fear she had known as a child. To keep from remembering her mother, so frail
and fragile, huddled in a corner, her arms wrapped around her body as tears
streamed down her face.

She shook her head. She wasn’t here
to remember, yet somehow she knew that was inescapable.

Opening the door to her beat-up
sedan, she stepped outside and stared around the grounds with a sense of déjà
vu. She could hear her childish laughter, her mother’s voice calling out to
her, filled with amusement and…love?

Kimmie, you know your father
won’t like you climbing that tree.
Was it laughter? Her chest tightened
with the remembrance of the smug undertones of her mother’s voice. It had been
like a dare. And Kimberly had accepted it as such.

My sweet Kimmie, don’t worry,
baby, we won’t let mean ole daddy ruin our fun will we, baby…

That hadn’t been love in her voice,
it had been satisfaction.

She shook her head fiercely. Was
this why she had never returned? Why each time she had planned to come back to
Briar Cliff something inside her had made her change her mind, there had always
been something more important to do.

She pushed her hand into her jeans
pocket and pulled out the single key she carried there. It would open the doors
to Briar Cliff, and the memories she had fought to hold back for longer than
she had realized herself.

The wide, oak, double door opened
smoothly. There wasn’t a squeak or a hesitation as they swung on their
well-oiled hinges.

Kimmie, this is all yours. Yours
and your daughter’s and your daughter’s daughter’s. Don’t let him ever take it,
Kimmie. Not ever…

She had been six, standing in the
foyer after yet another of her father’s furious exits. Her mother had been in
tears, her shoulders heaving with her sobs, her green eyes shadowed with
misery.

She stood in the same marble foyer,
staring around her, seeing the past rather than the gleaming oak and teak wood
trim, or the centuries old antique hall tables and cushioned chairs, or the
priceless crystal decorations.

Over two centuries of dedication to
the stately home had made Briar Cliff a resource unto itself. It was quite
simply, as a whole, priceless. The trust set up six generations before had
ensured that there would be no sales, no chance of mortgages, or of loss. It
had grown only more valuable over the generations.

But the antiques and delicate wood
carved borders were only glanced over. Kimberly had never seen Briar Cliff as a
heritage, it had been her home. But now she saw it, felt it as something more.
It wasn’t a home. It wasn’t a heritage. It had been a curse.

She moved slowly through the house,
room by room, the voices of a past she hadn’t wanted to remember washing over
her.

God damn you, you stupid whore.
All I asked you to do was play hostess, not the slut…

You fucking bitch, he’s gone… Do
you hear me? He left. Took the money your father gave him and ran. Are you so
fucking lame you can’t even remember he didn’t want you…

Kimberly wanted to cover her ears,
but there was no blocking the memories.

Her mother’s tears, her screams for
mercy, and her father’s voice, rough-edged and filled with fury as he stood
over her mother’s cowering body.

Whose do you want her to be?

Kimberly shuddered. How could she
have forgotten that? She had been seven, hiding outside the drawing room, trembling
in fear, terrified her father would actually hurt her mother.

She remembered her mother’s voice,
slurred drunkenly, smug and amused.

Her mother hadn’t been crying.
Kimberly stood outside the drawing room now, staring into the shadowed room,
and seeing the ghosts of what had been.

Damn you, you lying bitch, I
wouldn’t believe you either way
,he had screamed.
She’s your
daughter. Yours. And likely just as depraved and perverted as you ever were…

What had her mother done?

She moved slowly through the house,
room by room. The drawing room, the family room, the dining room. In each area
she relived the fights, the screaming matches, her mother’s tears, her mother’s
smug vindictive words laced with her bitter sobs.

He loved me… At least he loved
me…

For God’s sake, the bastard took
your father’s money and left. Are you so insane you’ve forgotten that… He
didn’t love you, bitch, he used you…

I could have loved you…

I never wanted your love, whore…
But her father’s voice had been bitter, furious…hurt.

Her bedroom. Her refuge. The one
room her father had never stepped foot in. Her bed was still there. The wide,
white-canopied confection of lace. It was a room made for a princess.

Remember, Kimmie, you’ll be
free… Be free for both of us, Kimmie…

Each night her mother had whispered
those words to her until her teen years, until her father had put a stop to it.
He had sent Kimberly away to school. An exclusive girls’ school that had
effectively placed a distance between her and the mother who had nurtured her.
Who had nurtured a hatred for the father.

Why had she not remembered that?

She moved from her room, down the
long hall, and to the room her mother had taken her last breath.

I was wrong… So many things…
her
mother had wheezed that last day.
Don’t make my mistakes, Kimmie, swear to
me, you won’t make my mistakes… I wanted you free, Kimmie… I wanted you free…

Free of what? Free of her father or
free of Briar Cliff?

Each room she visited was more of
the same. An unending collage of memories flooding her mind, her heart.

In the library, the walls were
lined with the portraits of all those who had their time to possess Briar
Cliff. From the first, Horace and Catherine St. Montrose. The first Briar Cliff
family. It was said Catherine had been a creature of sexuality, a woman as
comfortable with her body and her female desires as she was with the wealth she
had inherited from her father, a Lord of the English realm. She and her husband
had built Briar Cliff.

Her oldest daughter, Elizabeth St.
Montrose Michaels and her husband, Hugh, wore the same happy, contented
expressions of the first two. The portraits ranged around the room, a gleam of
laughter, of satisfaction in the eyes of those inhabitants until she reached
Tabitha Elizabeth Montageau and her husband, Diego Santiago. There was
bitterness there, in Tabitha’s deep brown eyes, in the pinched contours of her
lips. There was a sadness in her face only emphasized by the self-righteous
arrogance of her husband.

It had been Tabitha who had
established the Trust. Who had broken with willing the entire estate to the
first-born daughter and set the restrictive and soul-destroying provisions on
the inheritance. It was she, most likely at the direction of her husband, who
decided that the desires the women of her line possessed were depraved and
perverted and needed to be extinguished.

She had condemned her daughter and
all those who came after her to a life of restriction and pain. And Kimberly
had been her mother’s last hope of breaking the cycle. The Trust terminated in
only five more years. But in waiting, in turning her back on what she had seen
in Jared’s eyes, what would she be gaining? And what would she be losing?

Love endured. If Jared loved her,
truly loved her, he would wait. He
would
wait. She had seen it in his
eyes, heard it in his voice. He would make that sacrifice for her. But to what
end?

She wandered over to the oaken
locked shelf that she had been given the key to six years before. She knew what
it contained, but she had never had the courage to open it. Five generations of
journals and diaries. Accounts of the lives, the loves, and she knew, the pain
the women of Briar Cliff had endured.

Slowly, she drew the key from her
pocket and opened the door on a past she had sworn she would never visit.