Christine Feehan - Conspiracy Game

“You sure, baby,” Jack asked. “You don’t have to, if you’re tired.”

“I’d love to dance with you.” She wasn’t certain why he looked so leery until she slipped into his arms.

His scent enveloped her, his arms surrounded her, and his chest felt real and solid beneath her cheek. His body responded to her nearness with a tight fullness pressed close to her belly. It was a slow, dreamy song, and she let herself drift in a haze of need and lust, of urgent desire, matching the sway of his body, finding a perfect rhythm with his body. It was a moment in time no one could ever take away from her.

His hands held hers while he guided her through the swaying crowd. He bent his head to brush his mouth along her temple. She’d never danced with a partner-she couldn’t touch anyone so intimately-but Jack was sure and strong and led her as if they’d been dancing forever.

She closed her eyes on the way home, not letting the conversation between the brothers take away from the experience. She was tired, but happy-in spite of the fact she was having twins. She must have fallen asleep, because she woke to Jack carrying her into the house.

Briony took a long bath, and when she came out, Jack was already lying on the bed, his hair still damp from a shower. She raised an eyebrow, but her body reacted immediately, breasts aching. Beneath the thin tank top, she felt her nipples peaking. “Are you sleeping here again tonight?”

He pulled back the covers. “It’s the only way I’m going to get any sleep. If you don’t want me in the bed, I’ll take the chair.”

“No, we managed last night.” She slipped between the covers, her heart beating a little too fast. “I’m going to have nightmares about babies everywhere.”

Jack rolled over and shoved the blankets off of her to expose her before pushing her tank top from her stomach. His hands passed over her rounded tummy, then surrounded it, and he bent forward to press his lips against her skin. “Hello in there. Come to attention. This is your father talking. Your mom’s a little afraid of this twin thing. We’re going to have to ease her into it, so don’t go kicking too hard at first. Give her a little time to adjust.”

“The baby book says the baby can hear and eventually recognize our voices, but not this early.”

“But they aren’t talking about our babies, Briony. They hear me. They know. And they aren’t going to be little soldiers for Whitney and his fucked-up plans.”

Briony smiled. “If you’re really so sure they can hear you, stop swearing. They’ll come out saying the F word and I’ll tell the doctor you taught it to them.”

“Sorry. That was a slip, boys. Don’t be saying that word.”

“Boys?” She caught his head in her hands, forcing him to look up at her. “ Not boys. Boys are difficult. They do all sorts of boy things.”

“Not girls, Briony. Can you see me trying to keep up with two little girls? And what happens when they get older and some boy wants to take them on a date?” He groaned and once again stretched out, turning on his side to prop himself up with one elbow. “I’d either lock the girls in closets or spend my life picking off hopeful horny teenagers.”

“Hopeful horny teenagers?” she echoed.

“We’d have to homeschool the girls and put up a twelve-foot barbwire electric fence complete with a security system.”

“Let me get this straight. If we have boys, they can run wild and be free, but our daughters will be locked up in closets and behind fences for all time.”

“That’s about right,” Jack agreed. “Ken and I can handle boys, Briony, but no girls, so keep that in mind when you have these babies.”

She patted his hand. “I hate to be the one to give you the bad news, but you determine the sex of the baby, so if we have a girl, it’s all your fault.”

The touch of her hand, light and teasing over his, squeezed the air out of his lungs. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how he’d gotten so lucky, to have her in his home, in his bed, lying in the dark teasing him. It didn’t seem possible. His life was what he’d chosen and he had no complaints. He was used to silence. To being alone. There were days when he didn’t talk to another human being, and weeks when he went without conversing with anyone other than Ken. He had always thought of himself as solitary-it was safer for everyone that way-but now, with Briony lying beside him, her body warm and soft and her scent teasing his senses, he felt an odd sense of peace.

“Strange thing.” He made the confession aloud, not knowing why, but wanting her to know. “I’ve never actually relaxed with anyone around, not enough to sleep. Even out in the field, I have to move away from everyone or I don’t close my eyes-but you relax me. Before, when we were together, first I thought it was exhaustion, and then the sex, but it’s you.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “It’s just you.”

She was going to rip him apart when she tried to leave him, and it would come-maybe not now, or a month from now, but sooner or later, his domineering ways would make her need to rebel. She couldn’t understand the demons that drove him. Hell, he couldn’t-why should he expect that she would?

“I thought I could relax with you because you shield me from emotion, but that’s not the reason either.” She turned toward him, her fingers brushing his face as if she could read his expression. “You don’t think Whitney could do that too, do you?”

“No.” His voice turned grim. “Whitney doesn’t want to make it easy on anyone, Briony. He could have kept you with an anchor, but he deliberately put you with a family where you’d be out in the public on a daily basis. You had to interact. That was on purpose, for his little experiments. What were you made of? Could you find a way to overcome the pain? Overcome your differences living in a normal family? Bastard. He knew you were going to suffer every damn day of your life-and that there was every possibility your family would reject you eventually.”

“They thought I was autistic at first. Mom would hold me, and I felt everything she was feeling, knew what she was thinking, and it hurt so bad. I used to curl up in a ball under my bed and hide. She cried and cried, and I knew I was failing her.”

His hand found her hair. “That’s bullshit, baby. You’ve never failed anyone in your life. You did whatever it took to live in that family and fit in. Whitney needs someone to cap his ass.”

Briony snuggled closer to him, so close he could feel her breath against his chest. “Well, don’t do it tonight. I’m thinking I’m going to have nightmares about little boys running wild in the forest and me chasing them all. If I wake up screaming, it’s your fault.”

He loved the soft, drowsy note in her voice; it was as sexy as could be. What would it be like to be normal? He didn’t know. Ken didn’t know. And he doubted if Briony would ever know. But she was with him now, and he could wrap his arms around her, and somehow the memories of blood and death seemed far away.

“Ohyou angel!” Ken leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to Briony’s temple. “Who knew the woman liked to cook? Marry me right now. We’ll run away together.”

“Get the hell off of her,” Jack said, his tone mild. He forked another bite of fluffy omelet into his mouth. “I had the good sense to get her pregnant, so you can just back off.”

“Good food and a beautiful woman haven’t improved your disposition much,” Ken grumbled. “And having a baby hasn’t improved your language either.”

“Not one baby,” Jack corrected, “ two .”

Briony laughed softly, shaking her head at him. There was a note of pride in his voice he hadn’t bothered to conceal-one totally at odds with his tough, scarred features. “You’re so conceited.”