against him, wanting more. He was triumphant, but so was she as they did the thing for which they’d both been born. She held him close, wrapping her thighs about him, imprisoning him for her delight.
He watched her out of dark brooding eyes, her hair spread out over the pillow, her face wild with ecstasy. Her soft moans of pleasure excited him further. “Claire-”
His thrusts became deeper, harder. All his power was now concentrated on being one with her. She was lost to everything but this, driving back against him in mindless delirium, asking and giving. They were two halves of a whole, perfectly attuned to each other, finding completion together. The moment, when it came, was shattering, a long, ecstatic climax in mounting waves of pleasure that peaked and crashed, fading away and leaving them trembling. Claire cried out and clung to him, hearing his voice in her ear, saying her name over and over.
As they parted he held her more tightly than ever, not wanting the moment to pass. And she clung to him, as though she needed him to hold her hand to the end of the journey. Randall knew she’d given him what she’d offered no other man. Gabe might have been her first love, but he’d been too dumb to value her. So she’d turned to Randall, who did, pouring out lavish gifts of beauty and passion that awed and humbled him. He wondered if she had any regrets, but soon she propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him.
It was too dark to make out her expression, but he could see a faint glint in her eye, and hear her soft chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked in delight.
“Nothing. I’m just happy.”
He pulled her down, feeling her long hair flow over him like a river.
“Be happy, Claire,” he said. “Be happy forever. If only-”
He stopped, entranced by the sound of a gentle snore. Claire was as natural and simple as a young animal that sated itself, and fell asleep, at one with the world.
Possessed by tenderness, he stroked her hair. He, too, was happy, in a way that he’d thought he would never know.
From some mysterious place a memory came back to him. Claire saying, “We don’t really have any say, do we…like someone’s pulling the strings and having a good laugh.”
And he’d said, “Philosophy doesn’t solve any problems. Only feelings do that.”
He wondered suddenly if the feelings of love and passion, mixed in with protectiveness, that consumed him now, would solve any problems.
Or whether some nameless deity was having a good laugh. And if so, what about?
At dawn Claire was awoken by a distant noise. She padded out of bed and opened the bedroom door. Sure enough, the phone was ringing. Pulling on her dressing gown she left Randall sleeping and padded down the corridor to his bedroom, where the nearest extension was situated.
“Lord Randall, please!” said a female voice.
Claire drew in a sharp breath. There it was, the English “toffee” voice she’d so resented in Randall-except that he didn’t really sound anything like that.
“Are you there?” asked the woman sharply. “Kindly fetch Lord Randall for me.”
“He’s asleep. It’s early here.”
“Oh, I see. Are you the housekeeper?”
“No, I live here. My name is Claire.”
“Really. I’m the Honorable Honoria Gracewell. I expect Randall has told you about me.”
“No,” Claire said in a hollow voice. “He hasn’t mentioned you.”
“Never mind. This can’t wait. I must speak to Randall urgently. I might have known there’d be a disaster when he went swanning off to the back of beyond.”
“A disaster?”
“Well I certainly don’t want to be related to Frederica Crossman. The Stantons do have a position to keep up.”
“Does she make it hard for them to do that?” Claire asked tersely.
“She certainly will if she’s allowed to marry Gabe McBride. Randall should be here to put a stop to it.”
“Did you say-marry Gabe?”
“They’re announcing it today, bold as brass. And the wedding’s set for three weeks. I suppose she wants to make sure of him while she can.”
Claire sat down suddenly. Gabe was getting married.
“Are you there?” Honoria demanded sharply.
Claire pulled herself together. But it took an effort to speak. “This Frederica Crossman-what’s she like?”
“A widow with two children. Respectable enough, but not out of the top drawer.”
“But how will you be related to her if she marries Gabe?”
“Because he’s Randall’s cousin, and Randall and I-this is hardly your business, is it? The point is that the Stantons don’t marry nobodies.”
“But Gabe isn’t a Stanton,” Claire said, a tad sharply.
“I suppose you’ve got a point. Maybe his wife doesn’t matter too much, especially if he takes her back to Tennessee, or Wyoming-”
“Montana,” Claire snapped.
“Wherever. But Randall’s wife does matter. Eventually she’ll be Lady Stanton, a Countess, holder of one of the oldest titles in England-”
“That’s not what Randall says,” Claire couldn’t resist interrupting. “He says the Stantons are a load of jumped-up nobodies who bought the title a mere four-hundred years ago, and-”
Honoria’s intake of breath was as sharp as a knife.
“Randall will have his little joke,” she said in a tight voice. “Countess Stanton has to come from suitable stock, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand-”
“Hell yes, I understand,” Claire said. The twang in her voice had become emphatic to the point of parody. If this snooty woman thought she was talking to a backwoods hick then Claire would give her hick with bells on. “That’s just what we say when we’re breeding cows.”
“I-I beg your pardon?”
“Suitable stock. Nothin’ like it. ’Course you’ve got to know your bloodlines. We keep charts. Is that what you do?”
“I-”
“Hell, Gabe don’t never buy a bull ’cept he knows his pedigree. Why, we’ve got one now, biggest thing y’ever saw, with the most eee-
Honoria audibly gulped. “There’s no need to go into detail. Just tell Randall to call-”
“No need, ma’am, here he is.”
Randall had awoken to find Claire missing, and followed the sound of her voice, puzzled as to why she was talking the worst stage Yankee he’d ever heard.
“Phone for you,” she said. Thrusting the receiver into his hand, she fled.
North, who’d just arrived sleepily in the stables, was alarmed to see her dash in, saddle her horse and ride off as if the fiends from hell were after her.
