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He snorted at her comment, moving from the bed as he checked the time on the clock.
Nearly four. How long had he slept anyway?
 I m surprised you re still here. He moved from the bed, scratching his chest before stretching the sleep
from his limbs.
She tilted her head and shrugged.  Beats jail.
Jack shot her a sharp look. Did she mean it? Hell, no, she didn t. He wasn t falling for that shit. She had
met the heat, the wildness that reared inside him perfectly. That was not an unwilling lover, giving in to a
fate little better than another that could await her.
She smiled. An all-too innocent smile that didn t cover the feminine knowledge in her eyes. Damn her.
She had been making him crazy for much too long. The time he had spent between her thighs earlier
wasn t near enough to make up for the many weeks she had been making him crazy at her father s
estate.
That dream was messing with his head. But damn, if it hadn t been a dream that should have messed
with a man s head.
 Tell me about the torque. He moved to the dresser, pulling out clean clothes as he glanced over his
shoulder.
She shrugged her bare shoulders.  As I told you, it was gift from an ancient Celtic priest to an English
warrior who had wed a child of his line. As long as the torque remains within my line, it s promised that
we ll always know happiness and love in the marriage bed. Should it ever be taken away, then the
blessing placed upon us goes away as well.
He shifted uncomfortably. Marriage he could do without. He didn t want marriage. Then he looked at
her again, remembered her in his bed and frowned at the unfamiliar surge of longing that struck his chest.
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Hell, no. No marriage.
Besides, he doubted she would give up her nice cushy life in Ireland to be a rancher s wife. He had
decided while on the Manning estate that his days of traveling, buying and selling were coming to an end.
Luc needed him on the ranch, to make it profitable rather than just the hobby they both played at. He
should feel relieved at that thought. Shouldn t he?
 A piece of jewelry doesn t make a good marriage, he finally grumbled.  It s the people.
 I agree. She shrugged, her voice quiet.  But the blessing could make certain those two meant to be
together, come together. Whichever. Fact or legend. It s the one piece that we have left from centuries of
history. A piece that has passed from mother to daughter since it was given to the first warrior.
 Then why mother to daughter? His tone was a shade mocking, and he knew it.
 Because it was given to the husband of the female of that land. Not the son. But as I said, that is beside
the fact. Father had no rights to sell it. Mother s early death prevented the will she had planned to make,
leaving the torque to me upon her death. Though their joint will leaves the remaining estate to me upon
Father s death.
 The estate is worth plenty, he pointed out.
 The torque is worth just as much to me, if not more. She stared back at him, her violet eyes filled with
emotion.  I ll let it go eventually, Jack. There s no sense in rubbing salt into the wound now. Perhaps, as
you say, it is only legend.
 The Wolves Torque has been only a legend&  The words from the dream haunted him now.
He grunted, moving for the shower rather than replying to her comment.
 Don t bother dressing, he warned her as he passed.  I won t be long.
Chapter Five
Arrogant ass. As though she had any of her clothing to dress into. Though if she did have anything clean,
she would have definitely dressed into it just to spite him, she thought nearly twenty minutes later as she
stood in the kitchen, dressed only in another of his T-shirts.
She was hungry. And she refused to cook naked. It just wasn t going to happen.
As she pulled eggs and omelet ingredients from the refrigerator, she frowned, wondering at his strange
behavior before he disappeared into the shower. What would it matter to him where the torque came
from, or the legends behind it?
It mattered to her. She had trusted in the legends, perhaps too much, to lead her to the man who would
complete her, body and soul. At first, she had believed it could be Jack. The dreams had become more
vivid, more sensual with his arrival at the estate. But with each word out of his mouth he had done nothing
but sought to spark her temper.
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But he had grown on her. She had enjoyed sparring with him, rebuffing him only to see what new game
he would come back with. It was exciting, titillating, it had kept her arousal and her intellect challenged as
no other man ever could.
But he had taken the torque. Despite her furious pleas, he had bought something that was priceless to
her and taken it from her. He had taken the one thing left of the glorious past her ancestors had lived and
loved through.
 You dressed. His voice was dark, forbidding as he stepped into the kitchen.
Angel placed the first omelet in its place and poured the second in.
 So I did. She glanced at him over her shoulder, once again seeing his features in the fuzzy image of her
dream lover.
He was going to break her heart and she knew it. She could feel it in the vague, hollow ache in her chest
and she hated it. Despite her determination to hold her heart from him, he had taken it as easily as he had
the torque.
How was that, she wondered? He had stolen the torque. Had purchased it. It had been no gift, it had
not come to him through their marriage&
Yet, neither had it come to its first wearer in such a way. She remembered the legend of the first bearer
of the torque. The English warrior who had been gifted the emblem by the grandfather of a conquered
maid. The daughter of the landholder. A peace offering. A promise&
She shook the thought away. This wasn t centuries past, this was here and now, and Jack wasn t an
English lord, nor was he a conqueror or a warrior. He was a cowboy, one with a gift for acquiring things
that should have never been his. Things such as her torque& and her heart.
She slid the second omelet to a plate and then placed both on the small round kitchen table along with
silverware. Turning back to the counter, she poured two large mugs of coffee and set them by the plates
before taking her seat.
The feel of the cool wood against her bare rear was a shock. She drew in a deep breath, sighed at the
distraction then picked up her fork. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]