Page 14 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

Eleanor nodded as she sipped the delicious beverage.

"It's the only way she will come in contact with my son.

She's two months pregnant and still as sick as a dog.

I could make the play that I have a household of staff members to cater to her.

You and everyone are busy. Besides, the constant cooking is contributing to the nausea. "

Maeve nodded, a thoughtful look on her face.

She wanted her daughter to get something out of all of it and was daring to hope it would be love and marriage and her own family.

She was refusing to look at the money and the fact that Conail McLaughin was a very powerful man.

The good Lord made them all equals and not because he had a lot of money, made him better than they were.

She and his mother were best friends despite their dissimilarities in status. Stranger things had happened.

This might just be what both of them needed.

"That would probably work. The cooking has been hell on her."

Eleanor nodded in understanding. "Shall I make the suggestion or will you?"

"Let me work on her and then you call."

*****

He glowered into his beer and tried his best not to look at the couple on the dance floor.

She was making a spectacle of herself and what the hell was she doing wearing that skimpy skirt.

It looked more like a bloody napkin. What the hell did he care anyway?

Taking a swallow of the beer, he tried to get it past the knot in his throat.

He should have accepted Bella's invitation to swing by her place after he had finished at the farm. But their last date a few days ago had not gone very well. He had been constantly distracted and thinking of her.

His eyes swung to the dance floor and what he saw had him surging to his feet. Slamming the bottle down, he marched forward and practically dug his fingers into Steve's shoulder. "Take a hike," he ordered.

"We're not finished dancing."

"If you value your face the way it is, you'll get lost. Now."

Steve stewed a while on the decision, but considering the fact that he was fifteen pounds lighter than the furious man standing in front of him, he stepped back – all the way back.

"How dare you--"

"Shut the hell up." Clamping his hand around her biceps, he hauled her off the floor and went to grab her jacket.

"Let go of me." Maddy was seriously steamed even though the excitement was simmering beneath the anger.

Without a word, Colin shoved her against the side of his pickup and pinned her there.

His body was vibrating, and it took him a few seconds to get his anger under control.

"If you want to gyrate and make an exhibition, you've done a damn good job of it.

" His hand clamped around her throat as he all but snarled at her.

"You were practically having sex with the guy. Have you no shame?"

Anger and humiliation exploded and had her shoving at him. It only made it worse when he did not budge. "I hate you!" Tears burned the back of her eyes as she shoved at him again.

"Welcome to the club." He saw the tears and felt lower than dirt. "I don't like you a hell of a lot either."

"Then go to Bella and leave me the hell alone." To her mortification, a tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another. "Leave me alone."

The tears undid him and had his heart shuddering.

Swearing viciously, he took her hand and moving her aside, opened the door and practically shoved her into the vehicle.

Coming around, he slid into the driver's seat and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

Without a word, he turned on the engine and backed out of the lot.

"My car--"

"We'll get it later or tomorrow."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she sniffed.

"You don't have a damn choice," he growled.

They drove in silence, the tension between them palpable. He couldn't shake the image of her with Steve, the way she moved, the way she laughed. It gnawed at him, deepening the ache in his chest. Why did it bother him so much?

She stared out the window, tears silently streaking her cheeks. Her heart was a tangled mess of anger, humiliation, and something she couldn't quite name.

The pickup roared down the empty road, the night swallowing them whole. He glanced at her, his jaw clenched, wanting to say something but unable to find the words. Instead, he drove faster, trying to outrun his feelings.

Finally, he pulled up to a small, secluded cabin. He cut the engine and sat there, the ticking of the cooling engine the only sound.

"Get out," he said quietly.

She hesitated, then climbed out, her legs shaky. He followed, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

"After you," he muttered.

She stepped inside, the warmth of the cabin a stark contrast to the chilly night. He closed the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the silence.

Finding the switch, he turned it on and light flooded the single rustic room, chasing away the shadows.

It was situated at the edge of their land and often served as a home for men who had previously worked the farm.

Even though it had been unoccupied for several years, Colin had seen to it that it was kept clean and the fireplace stacked with firewood.

Bending to the task, he found the matches and started a fire.

Watching the wood blaze, he turned to face her, expression grim.

He could recognize that beneath the anger the green-eyed monster had struck.

He had seen the way Steve touched her, and he had to stop himself from eviscerating the man.

And it had brought back some very unpleasant and painful memories.

"Is it that easy for you?" he asked stonily as he stared at her. "To just allow a random guy to paw at you like that?"

"Go to hell," she whispered, turning her back on him.

She had gone to the bar out of sheer misery.

After the incident in the barn, she had honestly thought they were getting somewhere, only to discover that he had gone on a date with Bella.

Desperation and the need to take her mind off him had sent her out of the house tonight. She never expected to see him there.

"I'm there." He had come up behind her. He did not want to touch her – who the hell was he kidding? He wanted to sink himself into her until he was stuck and that was the problem. Clamping his hands on her shoulders, he spun her around.

She fought him – the tears were on her cheeks, and she looked vulnerable, yet enraged.

He held on, hauling her up against him. Turning her head away when he bent his, she only managed to graze her cheek with his lips.

The scent of her, the feel of her silky skin against his mouth almost had his knees buckling.

She was still struggling. Solving the problem, he wrapped a hand around her waist to hold her still.

With his other hand, he tilted her chin up, fingers pinching the flesh.

"You're making me crazy," he groaned. "I could not bear to see another man's hands on you.

I wanted to kill him. I want to kill that son of a bitch you were with in Chicago.

" Before she could respond, he crushed her lips with his, hands like steel bands around her waist. She gave up the struggle and with a moan, succumbed to the passion raging inside her body.

*****

The rose and gold suite had her gawking despite her resolve to appear sophisticated and worldly.

She could not help it. In fact, as soon as they swept through the wrought iron gate of the stately white building, she could not stop staring.

Palm trees decorated both sides of the sweeping driveway that was almost a mile long.

Pink and white roses bloomed in abundance and a stately and obviously expensive fountain spewed forth water into a large delicate looking basin.

The foyer was lofty, the ceiling high and intricately carved. Water silk wallpaper decorated the walls. A sweeping staircase with gleaming parquet steps led up to the bedrooms.

"I'll give you the tour another day," she was assured by Eleanor as the woman dismissed the buxom looking housekeeper and led her to her suite.

"Really Eleanor, you did not have to do this."

"Oh yes, I have to." When she pushed open the door, Yasmine was left speechless. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

"Comfortable?" Yasmine turned a circle on the board floor in order to see everything. "I might not want to leave."

Eleanor chuckled softly and reserved her opinion. "Make yourself at home. I'll have Margaret bring you up some tea and soup." She gave Yasmine a concerned look. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly well."

"Good. I'll leave you to rest." She withdrew and closed the doors behind her.

Yasmine explored. It was a lovely home, not ostentatious, but elegant with furnishings she knew cost a hell of a lot of money.

The bed was on a dais and was a king sized one, with towering bed posts.

The headboard was solid mahogany. All the furniture in the room looked oversized.

The armoire was massive and so was the dresser.

A fireplace – a real one – took up one side of the wall.

The pocket doors of a huge closet were thrown open and to her delight, there were revolving shelves and a vanity in the middle.

The bathroom was a dream. A claw footed bath stood in the middle of the rose and gold floor. A shower took up one side of the wall and could fit six people easily. Jet sprays hung on hooks and the double sink had overhead recessed lights.

Stepping from the bathroom, she pulled the double glass doors and stepped out on a balcony strewn with dull gold sofas and a beautifully carved table in the middle of the floor.

Here, money whispered and sent a definite message.

Yasmine wondered briefly what it must be like to have so much of it and live like this.

Shaking her head, she leaned against the rail and inhaled the scent of flowers blooming.

The air was crisp and clean, the brushes already dewy with moisture from the rain that had fallen earlier.

When her mother had suggested she come here, she had objected at first, but now, she was happy she came.

She was definitely going to take advantage of the royal treatment she was getting.