Riding the Thunder by Deborah MacGillivray Read Free Book Online Page B

kind of women men fantasized about. The front row held their six brothers, father and two uncles. Jago vaguely recalled them, as handsome as the granddaughters were beautiful.
    Clan Montgomerie’s motto was
Look Well.
Though he assumed that meant
Be Vigilant
, in this instance it also applied to the appearance of the striking males and females of Sean’s line. If the scientist who’d cloned Dolly the Sheep ever got around to cloning human beings, he needed to look up the Montgomeries.
    Jago recalled how Desmond had stared at BarbaraAnne the whole time. Once she had turned and looked directly at Des. To Jago, it seemed the whole world had held its breath as the two stared at each other. Needless to say, he hadn’t been surprised when Desmond announced he’d be the one to go to Falgannon Isle to handle that end of the business for Mershan International and Trident Ventures. Jago had never said anything to Desmond, but he was aware his brother had carried a picture of BarbaraAnne in his wallet for nearly fifteen years, cut from some magazine.Desmond likely thought of it as a goal, as a reminder of what drove him. Jago figured his brother failed to recognize that he went to Falgannon for more than his role in taking down Montgomerie Enterprises. He wondered how long before Des recognized that fact.
    â€œâ€˜Oh, what a tangled web we weave,’” Jago muttered, then flicked the ashes off his cigarillo.
    At the funeral, much to his irritation, Asha had never turned around, so he’d spent the whole of the service staring at the back of her head. It was hard from that distance to tell her from her twin sister, Raven, or for that matter from her elder sisters, Katlynne and LynneAnne. The four women were dead ringers, variations on a theme, with only small differences in their height and hair. Asha had the lightest auburn locks, with pale almost blonde streaks.
    Jago had been outside in the parking lot before he finally got a good look at her face. Quite vividly, he recalled standing by the car, watching Raven and Asha coming down the steps of the ancient kirk. They were twins, and yet, Asha had seemed unique somehow. Maybe being a twin himself had endowed him with a perception attuned to recognizing finite differences others missed.
    As he hadn’t been surprised when Desmond booked a flight to Scotland, Jago had fathomed in that breathless instant that he would be the one to come here to Kentucky.
    â€œDestiny, the bitch, sure plays cruel tricks with people’s lives.” He laughed softly, mockingly.
    Jago took one last draw on the Swisher Sweet, the taste going flat. He dropped it and ground the butt beneath his boot. Instantly, the disquietude was back.
    The light in the living room of Asha’s bungalow winked out, increasing the penned animal mood within him. Like a big cat in a zoo, Jago wanted to break free of this invisible cage that caused his edginess. No, that light going off didn’t help the situation one bit. Was Asha in bed? Did she sleep nude? Were the sheets soft flannel, crisp linen or sleek silk? What material rubbed against those full breasts? Imagesfilled his mind of them locked together in full-tilt, ride-’em-cowboy sort of sex. How would she taste? Would she want—as the Pointer Sisters crooned—“a lover with a slow hand,” or would she give measure-for-measure, as sudden and wild as a spring thunderstorm?
    A fresh vision flashed in his mind: him holding her body spooned against his, lazily listening to the rain on the roof as they drowsed. It was a vivid picture devoid of his gnawing restlessness, and for a moment, an intangible sense flowed through him, spreading in gentle waves of tantalizing warmth. The sensation shifted through his veins, then lodged in his chest, both unnerving and welcome in the same breath.
    Then the old hunger returned, tenfold, nearly overwhelming him. That damn wanting and yet not knowing what his soul cried