Embroidered Fantasies

Chapter Three

Roxanne was bone tired. They’d been extra busy at Joe’s today. One of the other waitresses had called in sick and Roxanne had ended up working for twelve hours instead of her regular eight-hour shift. In spite of her sensible shoes, her feet ached. She was hot and sweaty after hustling heavy trays around all day and was ready for a long, relaxing bubble bath. All she had to do was make it through the bus ride and short walk home.

Thankfully, no one was seated next to her. She held her purse in her lap, her body swaying to the rhythm of the bus as it rolled down the city street. Resting her head against the window, she longed to close her eyes but didn’t dare, fearing she’d drift off to sleep and miss her stop.

Raising a hand to her mouth, she stifled a yawn. Her mind drifted and she smiled as a picture of two tall, strong men invaded her thoughts. All day long, she’d been unable to get last night’s dream out of her head. Memories of four strong calloused hands stroking her breasts and between her legs, arousing her to a fevered pitch, occurred at the strangest times during the day, making her flush. Pamela, one of the younger waitresses, had commented on it. Roxanne had passed it off as just the heat from the kitchen.

Her breasts swelled, nipples pushing against the cups of her plain cotton bra. Her pantyhose were confining and hot after all day. She couldn’t wait to strip them off. Her entire body felt sensitized.

Her dark warrior had touched her between her thighs. She swallowed hard as she remembered his phantom touch. Cream coated the crotch of her panties and she squirmed, emitting a low moan that startled her. Heat crept up her cheeks as she straightened in her seat and glanced around. Thankfully, no one was paying her any attention. Everyone was concerned with their own lives.

A sense of loneliness assailed her. She was truly alone in a world of people. She liked the folks she worked with but wasn’t close with any of them. The few friends she’d had, she’d lost touch with after the death of her parents and fiancé and her marriage to Michael.

Roxanne tugged her purse tighter to her body, saddened by what her life had become. It was as much her fault as it was the people she knew. After what had happened in her disastrous marriage, she’d kept people at arm’s length.

No more.

It hit her suddenly that she’d been living in a prison of her own making, keeping herself from truly living as some sort of punishment for having the bad judgment of marrying a man who abused her.

She knew what the counselor she’d seen a few time immediately after she’d filed for divorce would say. Mrs. Dobson had told her over and over that it wasn’t her fault.

That men like Michael were master manipulators, hiding what they truly were until they had a woman isolated. In fact, he’d probably been attracted to her because he sensed her vulnerability.

A cold shiver skated down her spine. She didn’t want to think about Michael. Just knowing he was out there somewhere was enough to give her nightmares.

Unconsciously, she’d been watching for him all day, her eyes flying to the front door of the diner every time the bell had wrung.

No wonder she was exhausted. The strain of knowing her ex was out of prison coupled with the sensual dream and the long work shift had drained her totally. She planned to make it an early night to catch up on her sleep.

Glancing out the window, she was surprised to find her stop was next. She rang the bell, climbing off when the bus rumbled to a stop.

As it pulled away from the curb with a bellow of exhaust fumes, she glanced around. Everything looked normal. The man at the grocery store was sweeping the sidewalk in front of his shop. A woman pushed a baby stroller and two young men sauntered along on the other side of the road.

Gathering what little remained of her strength, Roxanne began the final leg of her trip. Putting one foot in front of the other, she started home. Maybe she’d get a cat, she mused. A warm, furry bundle that would greet her at the door when she opened it each evening, demanding supper with an insistent meow.

The thought made her smile. It was an expense, but if she was careful, she could afford it. She could go to the local animal shelter and get a kitten. No, maybe a full-grown cat would be better, one that was used to being on its own during the day.

She’d also take Pamela up on her offer to go out for coffee next time the other woman asked. She’d always cited excuses before, hurrying home after each work shift, unconsciously afraid to make friends. That was all about to change. Maybe she’d even ask Pamela herself after work tomorrow.

Her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time, but her body was still bone tired.

Her building came into sight but she couldn’t work up any energy to hurry her step.

Finally, after what seemed like hours instead of minutes, she trudged up the stairs to her apartment.

Unlocking her door, she shoved it open and walked inside. Her gaze swept the room. Satisfied, she stepped inside, shut the door and engaged all the locks. Her feet throbbed, reminding her she no longer needed to wear shoes. Dumping her sweater and purse on the floor, she went to work removing them. It wasn’t easy getting her body to bend over. Her back ached and she groaned, but that turned into a moan of pleasure as each shoe was pulled off. She wiggled her tired toes and flexed her feet.

The pantyhose had to go. Roxanne reached up under her bubblegum pink polyester uniform and grabbed the waistband. As she peeled them down her legs, she silently cursed Joe for wanting a retro feel for his diner. He wasn’t the one who had to wear bubblegum pink polyester every day. The diner was always full and the heat from the kitchen made the entire place sweltering hot, in spite of the tiny air conditioner that worked overtime to cool the dining area.

Pantyhose gone, she gave a sigh of relief and kicked them aside. Normally, she was very tidy with her things, but tonight she was too tired to care. “Tomorrow,” she muttered. She was working a later shift tomorrow so she could actually sleep in.

Her stomach growled. She needed to eat something even though she didn’t feel like it. A can of soup would be the quickest thing. It wouldn’t take long to heat. She padded toward the kitchen, pausing when she neared the davenport. She stopped and peered around the room. Something was different.

Adrenaline pumped through her body, heightening her senses. A voice inside her head screamed at her to run. Not hesitating, she raced for the door, her hands clawing at the locks. Four off and one to go.

She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, fearing what she’d see if she did. She couldn’t hear a thing above the pounding of her heart. Her breath was choppy, her hands shaking.

A light scent lingered in the air in front of the bathroom door. An expensive men’s cologne. One she hadn’t smelled in more than a year. Michael’s cologne.

“Not leaving so soon, are you?” He hadn’t made a sound or, if he did, she hadn’t heard. Suddenly he was behind her, his heavy body shoving hers against the door.

She cried out as he slammed her head against the door before grabbing her by the hair and pulling her backward. He thrust her to the side. Her hip smashed against the side of the davenport and she grabbed it for support. Her nightmare stood before her, except he was all too real.

Michael was even larger than when he went to prison, which was saying something. His blond hair was longer and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather thong. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, which showed off broad shoulders, large biceps and the tattoos that ran the length of both arms.

His eyes were just as she remembered—cold, unforgiving blue ice. When he spoke, his voice was the same, calm and unemotional.

“Now that’s no way for the wife to greet her husband.” He took a step toward her and she scrambled backward.

“You’re not my husband,” she whispered. She wanted to scream, but fear had tightened her throat, making it impossible. She moved slowly away from him. A weapon. She needed something to defend herself.

“Of course I’m your husband. No piece of paper or judge is going to change that.” He took another step closer. Reaching between his legs, he cupped the large bulge there.

“I’ve been in prison a long time. I’ve spent a lot of hours thinking about this reunion, about what I wanted to do to you when I got out.”

He smiled, flashing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. “Nice place. I know you meant to send me a forwarding address, but that’s okay. A buddy of mine from prison is really good at finding people. He’s pure magic with a computer.” Her blood ran cold. All the time she’d thought she was safe he’d known exactly where to find her. “If you kill me, you’ll be the prime suspect.” He shook his head and sighed. “You never were really smart, Roxy. But that’s okay, I’ll take care of you just like I used to. You’ve put on a few pounds and cut your hair, but we can take care of that.”

Roxanne could feel herself shrinking beneath his gaze. Memories of being told she was stupid, again and again, threatened to destroy the year’s worth of work she’d done to rebuild her self-confidence. She reached deep inside to the core of strength she’d slowly and painstakingly built. “No. I don’t want you to take care of me. I’m fine by myself.”

“Now, Roxy. That’s your opinion, which doesn’t really matter squat.” He moved fast as a snake, grabbing the front of her uniform and tugging her toward him. He leaned down and she could smell peppermint on his breath. He’d always liked mint candies and the scent of them turned her stomach.

He yanked her upward until she was standing on her tiptoes. “You’re going to call work and quit your job. Then you’re going to pack your clothes. I’ve got a place back in Nevada. It will be just like old times.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t go back. Wouldn’t go back. “You’re crazy. I won’t do it. I won’t go with you.”

His gaze narrowed. “Now, Roxy. That’s not a nice thing to say to me after I’ve come all this way to get you.” He shoved her back, hard and fast. She toppled over the back of the davenport and tumbled onto the floor, hitting her head on the edge of the coffee table.

Her vision dimmed as she tried to clear her head. She could feel the stickiness on the side of her temple and knew she was bleeding. The sound of boot heels on the tile startled her into action. She grabbed the edge of the chair and pulled herself upright. It was then she noticed the tapestry lying on the davenport.

That’s what she’d unconsciously noticed, what had made her stop before she’d actually smelled his cologne. She’d put the tapestry on the back of the chair this morning but it had been on the davenport when she’d gotten home. Too bad her brain hadn’t made the connection before she’d locked herself into her apartment with a madman.

He followed her gaze and shook his head. “Still buying other people’s garbage, Roxy? This whole place stinks of it. A few mismatched dishes, some ragtag furniture and a moth-eaten rug. Not a lot to be proud of.”

Michael’s hands went to his belt buckle and he slowly began to release it. The leather swooshed through the loops of his jeans as he removed it. He held it easily in his hands. Roxanne was paralyzed with fear. She’d felt the heavy leather and the hard metal buckle against her flesh too many times not to know what was coming next.

Anger, hard and swift, broke through her fear. She wasn’t a victim. Not any longer.

He might kill her, but she wasn’t going anywhere with him. Lunging toward the bookshelf, she grabbed a chunk of rock she’d picked up on the beach and threw it at him.

Disbelief flared in his face as he ducked the projectile. She sent a vase flying after it.

“Get out!” She screamed it as loud as she could. “Fire!” She figured that would get the attention of her neighbors faster than anything else. Maybe someone would call the cops.

Michael lunged for her. She darted to the right toward the kitchen. She needed a knife. She could feel him behind her. Getting closer. She stretched out her fingers.

Reached.

He tackled her from behind, taking her down hard on the floor, his full weight landing on her. The air went out of her lungs with a large whoosh. She clutched her throat, unable to breathe.

He rolled her over and grabbed her by her hair, dragging her back toward the living room. The pain in her scalp was horrendous as he yanked her up onto the davenport. She struggled to take in a mouthful of air.

He loomed over her, straddling her thighs as his hands went to the opening of his jeans. “I’m going to fuck you first. Hard and long so you remember who you belong to.

I’ve dreamed of that for months. Every time I jerked off in my cell, I could picture you down on your knees with my cock rammed down your throat. We’ll get to that in a bit after I’ve taken the edge off. I might even fuck that tight ass of yours. We’ve never done that. I did a guy in prison and it wasn’t too bad. It would be a hell of sight better with your smooth, tight ass.” He paused and reached down and caught her jaw between his fingers and squeezed tight. “When I’ve had my fill of you, then I’ll punish you. After that, you’ll make that call and pack your things.” Roxanne desperately tried to pull air into her body. The horror of his words washed over her, making her stomach roil. He was going to rape her and beat her, maybe even kill her. There was no telling with Michael.

She squirmed beneath him, but he was heavy and strong and her head was still spinning from the heavy knock she’d taken and being dragged by her hair. She brought her hand up, raking her nails down his cheek. He reared back and swore.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” His pulled his arm back, making a fist. As it descended toward her, she felt something warm against her back. The room started to spin and a bright light flashed.

Roxanne cried out as she felt the davenport disintegrate beneath her. The world seemed to open up around her and she was thrown into an abyss. Her stomach dropped and the breath was sucked out of her body. It felt as if she were in an elevator that was freefalling.

She stuck out her hands, desperately trying to find something to grasp. There was nothing. She heard Michael swearing and yelling. Then she heard nothing at all. It was as though she were sucked into a void that had no beginning or end.

The light flashed again and the world went black.

Radnor finished brushing Xander, his warhorse, and led the enormous black beast back to his stall. “Only a few days and you’ll be in your new home,” he promised the horse.

Xander shook his head and released a puff of air, letting his owner know his displeasure. Radnor slapped the beast lightly on the shoulder. “None of that. You’ll be the king in the new stable and you’ll have many pretty mares to service.” The horse seemed to like that idea. He raised his massive black head and shook his mane as he trotted into his stall. Radnor chuckled. Sometimes he truly believed his horse understood every word he uttered. “There you go, my friend.” He made sure Xander had enough feed and water before closing the stall door. The animal bared its teeth and whinnied, sticking his head over the gate for a final rub.

Radnor patted the horse fondly. Xander was responsible for the biggest change at Craddock Keep. Six years ago, he’d started a breeding program, using Xander as a stud.

The stallion had produced several fine offspring, each worth a tidy sum. Radnor had sold them all in order to help repair the keep and reclaim their lands.

He and Sednar had worked tirelessly for years. This was Radnor’s reward for his hard work and patience. The new stable was almost finished. Built to his specifications, it would allow him to expand his breeding practice and raise more horses, which, in turn, meant more wealth and security for everyone who lived here.

“Stay out of trouble,” he told the horse. He gave Xander one final rub and left the old stable. He squinted against the strong morning sun. All around him people went about their daily work. Some of them nodded as they passed. Others kept their heads down and hurried past, not daring to look his way.

Radnor sighed and raked his hand through his hair. Even now, there were still people who didn’t trust either him or Sednar. Not that he blamed them, but it was still hard to watch, to deal with.

Putting it out of his mind, he strode across the yard toward the new stable. It was a thing of beauty. Long and spacious, it was more than twice the size of the old one. The outside was built entirely of stone. A peaked roof with slate tiles topped it off. Radnor had wanted to build something that would withstand fire. The horses were the main wealth of the keep and had to be protected at all costs. It had been a long and expensive process to quarry the stone from the mountain behind them, but well worth it now that it was done.

He strode inside to inspect the structure. The stonemasons had promised to be finished by today. By the looks of things, they had fulfilled their promise. Heavy wooden gates were hung across each large stall. A wide aisle ran down the center with stalls on either side. There was a larger open area at the end for grooming or examining sick horses. A heavy wooden gate opened up onto a fenced corral that would be used for training and exercising the animals.

There was a room for all the tack and saddles, as well as a sleeping area above for the head groom and his helpers. All in all, Radnor was pleased with the addition to Craddock Keep.

The building was empty now. If all went according to plan, he was going to relocate the horses tomorrow. The old stable, which was constructed entirely of wood, would be taken down, the wood reused in repairs to the many cottages occupied by his people.

Many were in dire need of repair. The wood was being made available free for anyone who needed it.

He inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh hay filling his nostrils. Someone had already begun bringing hay and feed into the new stable. It was probably Quince, the head groom. The man loved the horses as much as Radnor did. His boots hit the stone floor in a comforting rhythm as he walked to the far end of the building, inspecting each stall, checking each gate.

A sense of peace surrounded him, pushing away the restlessness that had filled him all morning. He’d dreamed last night. His sleep was filled with the sight and sounds of a woman. Not unusual for a man who longed for one of his own. But this had felt different. Very real. So real, he’d woken to find himself hard and aching. He’d taken himself in hand and relieved the pressure, keeping the image of the woman in his mind all the while he’d pumped his cock and pleasured himself.

The woman was unlike any he’d ever known. Her hair was unusually short and dark. He wished he’d been able to see the color of her eyes. All he’d known was that she was afraid and he had to protect her, no matter the cost.

He leaned against one of the gates, his gaze going inward. His biceps flexed as his fingers tightened around the heavy wood. The dream had seemed so real. His fingers itched with the remembrance of her soft flesh. He’d taken her away from what had frightened her and brought her to bed. Sednar had been there as well, welcoming his dream lady.

Radnor’s cock swelled as he remembered the way she’d allowed them to remove her clothing. Trusted them with her delicate body. He could still smell the sweet scent of her skin and feel the slick folds of her pussy. Her low moans of pleasure had been music to his ears. She’d looked at him as though he were special.

His heart pounded and his breathing increased even as he scoffed at the idea.

Women didn’t trust him or his brother. In spite of the passing years, the Craddock family history loomed large. Their history with women was less than desirable.

He shook himself free of the daydream, swearing under his breath. “Don’t be a fool,” he muttered. The woman wasn’t real. She was only a dream brought on by loneliness and memories. It was enough that he had a peaceful home, the respect and regard of his brother and his horses. It had to be enough. It was all he had.

A sound caught his ears and he cocked his head to one side, listening intently. He heard it again. A low groan followed by the sound of fabric shuffling. Someone was in here.

Radnor strode silently down the aisle, hand on the pommel of his sword, checking each stall as he went. It was probably one of the stable boys, but he wanted to be certain. Most of the stalls were empty, but a few had bales of hay stacked inside, ready to be spread as bedding for the horses. In the last stall on the left, he found his intruder.

He froze, unable to believe his eyes. Lying on a stack of hay bales was a woman wearing a garment of the most striking color he’d ever seen. It was almost blinding in its intensity. Her slender legs were bare. The bottom of her unusual dress was pushed above her knees. Most of her arms were exposed, as was a wide swath just above her breasts. Something metal glinted down the center of her garment when she shifted.

Her lips parted on a low groan, freeing Radnor from his stupor. He opened the gate and stepped into the stall. Her hair barely touched her nape and was as black as the night. Her lips were rosy and full, begging to be kissed. Her cheekbones were high, her nose straight.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing as he noted the pallor of her skin. He moved closer and the faintest scent of flowers wafted before him. Recognition hit him full force. He knew this woman. Knew the feel of her skin beneath his palms, the scent of body when it was aroused, the full shape of her ample breasts and the strength of her supple limbs.

She was the woman from his dream.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. Her eyes were gray, the same color as a morning mist over the lake. She blinked once, opened her mouth and screamed.