Soldier's Redemption by Alice Sharpe Page B

evening, and unbuttoning his cashmere overcoat, he shrugged it off and draped it over her shoulders, then pulled her against him. He kissed her the way he’d wanted to all night as cold drops hit their heads and rolled down their faces. The icy water juxtaposed with the heat of their mouths translated into the sexiest kiss he’d ever experienced. He lost himself for a second in the moist softness of her mouth and the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest.
    She pulled away at last and looked back toward the house. “Not here,” she said.
    “Then come back to the hotel with me.”
    “I shouldn’t,” she said, turning to look back at the house.
    “Yes,” he said firmly. “You should. You must.”
    “But—”
    “No buts. No arguments. Just come.”
    Her smile was slow and sexy, and the water drenching her hair just made her look more desirable. “Do you always get your way?”
    “I’m not going to answer that,” he said, kissing her forehead and eyelids.
    “Why not?”
    “Because if I say I do you might feel it necessary to teach me a lesson, and if I say I don’t you might feel sorry for me and sympathy is the last thing I want from you.”
    Her voice so low it was hard to hear, she said, “What do you want from me?”
    “Nothing,” he said. “Everything.”
    She was quiet for a second, and the only discernable noise was the rain hitting the pavement. “Cole, is there something you’re not telling me?”
    He froze for an instant. What had she seen or heard that alerted her he was more—and less—than he presented himself to be? He kissed her forehead and said, “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, and he could tell she was dismissing her own suspicions, ignoring her instincts. He wasn’t very happy with himself and decided for both their sakes this evening should come to an end.
    And then she said, “I’ll go get my aunt’s car and give you a lift back to the hotel. I can’t imagine why my uncle didn’t call you a cab. Meet me at the gatehouse.”
    She left without waiting for a response, his long coat flopping around her legs as she ran. He dashed toward the street and the protective arch that spanned the driveway, connecting the gatehouse with an eight-foot-high stone wall that he knew from satellite pictures surrounded the property.
    He stared back at the house, waiting for Skylar’s headlights, wondering if she’d leave word for her uncle where she was going and what Futura would make of that. If it offended him that Cole was seeing his niece, would it jeopardize his standing with the man?
    And what about Skylar?
    This wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t in the plans for him to develop feelings for her. At first he’d thought their mutual attraction might be a bonus, but now it presented itself as a pit of vipers.
    He heard a noise behind him, from the street side of the arch, and turned, wondering how Skylar had arrived from that direction. He sensed movement, and then something very hard smashed against his head and he fell to the ground, landing first on his hands and knees and then facedown, his cheek in a puddle. He heard a gasp as lights appeared from somewhere. He saw a leg close by and grabbed it down around the ankle. The black skin pulled away from the bone. Stockings. The person the leg was connected to made a grunting noise and tried to pull free, but even though Cole’s head filled with blurred stars, he held on tight.
    He heard other sounds he couldn’t place. More voices, one of them Skylar’s, but the words were incomprehensible. His grip lessened until his attacker yanked free. Cole tried to tell Skylar to run, but his lips wouldn’t move.
    His attacker fell down to the ground next to him, sobbing.
    He looked up, but her face was covered with her hands. Above her he glimpsed Skylar, eyes wide with shock. And then he saw nothing.

Chapter Six
    Skylar wasn’t sure what to do. Cole appeared to be out cold, and his attacker had dissolved into