“We’ve promised the people a Vessel. Nothing can interfere with that.”
“Nothing will,” Bart said.
“I want it to be Rachel. I won’t have you come between us.”
“Have I ever denied you anything?”
No. That was why they got along so well. “I still enjoy women. Lots of women.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I’m wondering if it’ll start to bother you.”
“Not at all. You will need to show your appreciation of women as often as possible. Otherwise, rumors would overtake us and destroy everything we’ve created.”
We. Ethan didn’t correct him. The church had been a joint undertaking. Bartholomew had been there, looking out for him, covering for him, almost from the beginning. Without his support and calm, steady influence, the Church of the Covenant would not have developed into what it was today. “So life will go on as usual.”
“Except, perhaps, in our most private moments. There it will change a great deal because I will always want you to come home to me. That’s all I ask.”
“You already live in the same suite.”
“Now I will move into your bed and you will no longer sleep with anyone else in this room.”
The domination in that statement made Ethan even harder. “And if word of our…involvement leaks out?”
“It’s a risk. That’s why I’m asking you to think, to be very certain, before you make this decision. Are you willing to take the chance?”
Why not? He was Ethan Wycliff. He could get away with anything he tried, have anything he wanted. And right now he wanted Bart.
“You worry too much,” he said. Then he guided Bart’s hands to his straining member, closed his eyes and sank back onto the bed.
Rachel wasn’t ready for morning. Not after last night. She lay in bed, ignoring the disciplined part of herself that ordered her to get up and jog. She could miss a day, couldn’t she?
No, she couldn’t. Then Nate might know he’d gotten to her with that damn kiss, left her rattled and craving what she claimed she no longer wanted. And she couldn’t allow that. She had to convince him she was as over him as she’d said she was or this assignment would just get more difficult.
God, why hadn’t Milt sent Roderick with her?
Because he knew she could never pull off a pretend marriage with Rod. He was like a brother to her.
Forcing herself out of bed, she put on a pair of jogging shorts and her track shoes. If she and Nate stayed in the trailer many more days, they’d have to find a Laundromat somewhere because she was quickly running out of clothes. No way would she use the wash-board she’d found in the utility room! Not unless Milt was forking over hazardous-duty pay. Considering the outhouse, she thought she could make a case for that already.
A knock at her bedroom door startled her just as she was pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Rachel?”
Damn. Nate was up. She’d hoped to have an hour of solitude before she had to face him again. “Yes?”
“Ready to go jogging?”
“You’re coming?” she asked in surprise.
“I need to work out. Figured I might as well join you.”
“Great.” She tried not to let her voice go flat, but knew she’d failed when he spoke again.
“I can tell you’re excited.”
“I am excited. About as excited as I’d be to meet a rattlesnake on the trail,” she added under her breath.
“Think of it this way. If you do meet a snake, I’ll be there to sacrifice myself on your behalf.”
Apparently, he’d heard her. “So if I’m thinking really positive, you might have to be airlifted back to civilization?”
“Yeah. Then you and Ethan can have all the time alone you want.”
“Listen to us. We’re putting each other down like pros. Now people might actually believe we’re married.” She opened her door to see him wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “It’s going to be too hot for that,” she said, indicating his shirt.
“I could take it off, but I’m not sure you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself.” He grinned, and she rolled her eyes. Before she could respond, she heard another knock, this one at the front door.
“Sounds like you might have another message from Alpha and Omega,” he drawled.
She pushed past him. She thought it might be another message, too, but it wasn’t. A woman stood there, clutching a picture of the girl Rachel had seen on the Missing flyer they’d taken from the restaurant in Portal. “Hello?”
Tears streaked the woman’s face, smudging mascara that looked as if it had been applied yesterday. “Mrs. Mott?”
“Yes?”
Short and round, their visitor had permanent eyeliner and hair dyed a harsh black. Unless Rachel was mistaken, she’d had a face-lift, as well as cheek implants. She looked like an aging Hollywood starlet who’d lost her way in the desert. “Thelma Lassiter told me about you and your husband,” she said. “I…I’m sorry to bother you. I know it’s too early to be out callin’ on folks. But…I’m getting frantic. No—” she rubbed her face “—not getting frantic. I am frantic.”
Rachel felt nearly singed by the radiant heat of Nate’s body as he pressed close behind her. She stepped to the side so he wouldn’t crowd her. “You’re Courtney’s mother.”
“Yes. Lynne Sinclair.”
“Would you like to come in?”
“No, my husband’s waiting for me.” She motioned at the car idling in the drive. Then her eyes shifted to Nate, but she didn’t speak to him. She’d choked up again. “I’m here because Thelma told me that…that you’ve been visiting the Covenanters,” she eventually said.
“I’ve been there twice. But I haven’t seen anybody resembling your daughter. I’ve looked.”
“She has to be there,” she insisted, her voice cracking. “I just…found this last night. It—it was hidden under the house where she liked to go to be alone. She made herself a little hideaway of sorts, and we…we let her because she seemed to need her own space so badly.” She held out a plain black book with an elastic band around it.
“Is this a journal?” Rachel asked.
“Part scrapbook, part journal. She cut out things from magazines and taped them in here. She included e-mails from international pen pals and so on.”