A Nanny for Christmas (18 page)

She hurried into speech. 'I thought you'd want to know that I'm collecting Tara's present on Christmas Eve.' She could hear the nervousness in her own voice. 'I thought, if I brought it in by the kitchen entrance, I could hide it in the utility room. Tara never goes in there.'

He nodded curtly. 'Is she asleep?'

'No, she won't be. She's been excited all day, waiting for you.'

Soften, she thought pleadingly. Smile for me now.

But there was nothing. Dominic seemed to look through her. 'Then I'll go up to her.'

Phoebe went back to the drawing room. The bag with the little wooden dolls, the scraps of fabric and her sewing kit was safely hidden under one of the sofas. She retrieved it, and went on with the dress she was sewing for the female doll.

Something was clearly wrong, she thought, but what? He'd been so different when they'd spoken on the telephone—so much warmer, so much more human. But perhaps that was the problem. After all, he'd made it clear that there could never be anything between them. Maybe he regretted dropping his guard with her, even for a few moments, and many miles away, and this was his way of telling her.

Her sewing wasn't difficult work, but it was fiddly, requiring the kind of concentration she wasn't capable of just now, and she yelped as she jabbed the needle into her finger instead of the fabric, ruefully sucking away the spot of blood.

It would be best to abandon it for the evening and listen to the radio in her room, she decided dispiritedly. And she would be out of Dominic's way, as he clearly wished.

It was here that Carrie found her half an hour later.

'He's barely touched his dinner,' she said, pursing her lips. 'Now, he's having coffee in the study, and he wants to talk to you.'

Phoebe uncurled herself from the little armchair and stood up.

'Did he say what it was about?' she asked apprehensively.

Carrie shook her head. 'He isn't saying very much at all.' She sighed. 'This is how he was after—' She stopped, as if aware she was straying into indiscretion.

'After his marriage broke up?' Phoebe asked, wincing inwardly.

'Well—yes. And I thought he'd put all that behind him. That he was looking forward, not back.'

'That isn't always easy,' Phoebe said quietly, and went out of the room.

The study door was shut, so she tapped lightly, and waited.

'Come in.' His tone was short and uncompromising.

He was standing by the fire, looking down into the flames, one foot on the brass fender. He'd changed, she noticed, out of his dark City suit into jeans and a casual sweater.

'You wanted to see me?'

'Yes, there were a couple of things.' He paused. 'Firstly, I've written to Westcombe Park School, informing them that Tara won't be returning in the New Year.'

'Oh, that's good,' she said with relief. 'I'm sure it's absolutely the right decision.'

'You think so?' The grey eyes were remote. 'I can't say I've been too impressed with my own judgement lately.' There was another, longer pause. 'Look how wrong I've been about you,' he added with cold emphasis.

'I don't understand—' she began, but he interrupted derisively.

'Don't lie to me, Phoebe. And, more importantly, don't get my daughter to lie to me. Because that is unforgivable.'

She felt as if he'd struck her in the face. 'I haven't lied,' she said unevenly. 'And I don't believe Tara would either."'

'Neither did I.' His tone bit. 'That is until earlier this evening, when I asked her if Tony Cathery had been in this house and she swore he hadn't. Which, as we all know is not the case. Is it, my innocent-eyed hypocrite?'

Shocked into silence, Phoebe could only stare at him.

'I can't dictate to you over your love life,' he went on grimly. 'Although I'd have thought previous experience would have taught you something. But I object to you carrying on your amours under my roof with that piece of scum. I'm sure I don't have to tell you why.' His mouth curled in distaste. 'No doubt you've been in his confidence all along—even six years ago.

'Until your advent, I'd managed to keep him out of my orbit. I genuinely believed that whatever relationship you'd had with him was long over. If I'd thought for one minute it was just on hold...' He drew a long, bitter breath.

'But dragging Tara into it. Forcing her to cover up for you. Trusting that bastard with her. Letting him drive her to school.' His voice thickened. 'My God, Phoebe, how could you do that?'

It was one terrible bombshell after another. Phoebe was reeling, her mind going crazy, but she had to get control—to defend herself somehow. Deal with the last accusation first, because that was in a minor league compared with everything else.

'You think he waited for my permission?' she demanded hotly. 'You must know him better than that. Tara wanted to go with him, and he drove off with her before I could stop him. What was I supposed to do— run after the car? As it was, I was just thankful that she got to school safely.'

'Amen to that.'

'As a matter of interest, how did you find out?'

'Unfortunately for you, Hazel was at the school for a governors' meeting, and she saw him drop Tara off. She could hardly believe her eyes.'

'Or wait to get on the phone, it seems,' Phoebe said acidly.

'She's an old friend,' he returned. 'Knowing the situation, she was naturally concerned. She acted with the best of intentions.'

'Of course.' Phoebe paused. 'Regarding the "cover- up", I admit that Carrie and I thought it would be better not to mention he'd been here.' She didn't look at him. 'Not to reopen old wounds. But not to lie about it either,' she added fiercely. 'That was never on the agenda. If you'd asked, we'd have told you. We—meant well, too.'

'So why was Tara so scared to speak?' he asked scornfully. 'Why was she sobbing in my arms just now, saying that she'd had to promise not to tell or her Christmas would be ruined? What kind of pressure is that to put on a child?'

'I never said anything like that. I wouldn't. I couldn't.' Phoebe beat a clenched fist into the palm of her other hand. 'And I'm not having an affair with Tony Cathery. If you won't take my word for it, ask Tara where I slept that night. And she'll tell you I was with her.'

The grey eyes narrowed. 'Then why did he come here—if not to see you? He knows he's not allowed anywhere near this place.'

'He walked in, claimed to be your stepbrother and made himself at home. Maybe you should have followed up your embargo by having the locks changed.' Phoebe paused. 'But he wasn't looking for me,' she added with stark emphasis. 'He was as surprised to see me as I was appalled to see him.'

'Do you think I'm a fool?' Dominic demanded contemptuously. 'Whatever motive could he have had? He was taking a hell of a risk. At our last meeting I swore I'd kill him if I ever saw him again.'

'Another excellent reason for keeping his presence quiet. And I'm the last person you should ask about Tony's motivation.'

He laughed harshly. 'You knew him very well six years ago.'

Phoebe shook her head. 'I never knew him at all. Not the real person—if there is one.' She took a deep, steadying breath. 'And while we're on the subject of deception—how long have you known? That it was me, I mean?'

His mouth twisted. 'Ever since the night you barged in, accusing me of being an uncaring father. Oh, there'd been some surface changes, of course. You were wearing clothes, and that bloody wig had gone. But you couldn't disguise your eyes.'

He threw his head back. 'That crushed, scared look you gave me as you came downstairs haunted me for a long time. And just for a moment I met it again, head- on, here in this room.'

He shrugged. 'And there was the name, as well. You don't encounter that many Phoebes in a lifetime.'

'No,' she said bitterly. 'I don't suppose you do. So, if you knew all along, why didn't you simply kick me into oblivion like last time?'

'Because I was intrigued.' His voice slowed to a drawl. 'From centrefold to uptight child-rights protestor seemed a hell of a transformation. And, as you so patently didn't want to be recognised, I decided to play along.'

She said tonelessly, 'Your family seems to specialise in games of one kind or another.'

'In which you were the first to join, remember?' The grey eyes glittered, stripping off the concealing lines of the moss-green dress. 'Tony told me what an eager volunteer you were. Always happier without your clothes than in them.'

'And you believed him?' She wrapped her arms defensively round her body.

'Backed up by the evidence of my own eyes, yes.' He was smiling now, his mouth curling in sensual reminiscence. 'He'd left me this note "Many happy returns. Your birthday present is unwrapped on your bed". Even then, I didn't realise what he meant, until I opened the door and saw you there.'

He paused. 'And, for the record, don't think I wasn't tempted, darling.' He made the endearment sound like an insult. 'It had been a hell of a few weeks, and it might have been some small recompense to take Tony's woman as mindlessly as he'd taken mine. Although that wasn't the plan, naturally,' he added softly. 'I was supposed to react exactly as I did, and let you leave unscathed. Good old predictable Dominic.'

'Unscathed—is that what you think?' Her voice shook. 'My God, how little you know. I was humiliated—degraded. If you think your failure to attack me was some kind of let-off...'

Dominic laughed, the sound echoing harshly.

'Attack?' he jeered. 'I don't think I'd have been driven to that extreme. You may have chosen to shelter behind this demure facade, but you're fooling no one except yourself. I've held you, remember? And gauged the depths of your response. Or are you going to deny that too?'

She couldn't say anything. She couldn't speak or move. And she should run, because there was real danger here.

'No,' he went on softly. 'The real girl was there on my bed that night—warm, passionate and much more than willing. Would you like me to prove it to you?'

Two strides brought him to her. His arms went round her roughly, pulling her against him in a demand that brooked no denial. His kiss was hard, plundering all the sweetness of her mouth without mercy.

She couldn't breathe, or even think with any coherence, but the instinct to escape, before it was too late, was still strong. She tried to push him away, but his chest was like an iron wall against her frantic hands. She could feel the race of his heart under her fingers. Sense the aroused, desperate trembling of his flesh. And match it with her own shaken, reluctant excitement.

It was, she realised, indeed too late.

She felt herself sway in his embrace, and his clasp slackened a little—but only so that he could bend her backwards over his arm in a pliant arc, his lips trailing fire down the line of her throat while his hand moulded the softness of her breast with total and compelling assurance.

He undid the buttons on her dress, pushing the soft fabric off her shoulder, then sliding down her bra strap so that he could release her breast from the confines of its lacy cup.

Her flesh seemed to swell at his first touch on its nakedness, her nipple hardening in unresisting pleasure under the play of his skilful fingers.

She heard her own raw gasp of delight as he took the eager, dusky peak into his mouth, stroking it gently, subtly, with his tongue.

Her body was melting, imbued with a strange languor. When Dominic lifted her fully into his arms, she offered no protest, allowing him to carry her to the thick rug in front of the fireplace.

He lay beside her, framing her face with his hands as he kissed her again, gently this time, and very deeply. Then, without haste, he unclasped the belt of her dress and unfastened the remaining buttons. He raised her slightly so that he could free her arms from the sleeves, then unhooked her bra and tossed it aside.

He looked down at her, and she felt herself tremble under the intensity of his gaze.

He said quietly, 'I've dreamed of seeing you like this—touching you. You're like some pale, sweet rose made flesh.'

She felt his mouth burn swiftly and softly in the valley between her breasts, then his hands cupped each delicate mound in turn for the lingering adoration of his lips.

Through half-closed eyes, Phoebe saw the flames dance on the hearth behind him, and felt them riot in her blood. She too had dreamed, she thought hazily. Dreams she had never admitted even to herself—until now, when they were all coming true.

Dominic stroked her softly and sensually, smoothing his hand from her shoulder down to her thigh, making each inch of silky skin his own. She revelled in every tiny movement, feeling her body bloom under the brush of his fingers.

It was only when she felt the satin glide of his caress parting her thighs that she realised that the remainder of her clothing had been discarded, and she was naked.

No one had ever touched her so intimately before, and she whimpered softly and greedily, suffused in heated, molten pleasure. She was consumed by a yearning she hardly understood, her body moving in restless, questing delight under the tender expertise of his exploration of her.

Tiny waves of sensation were lapping at her, tingling along her limbs, shivering at her nerve-endings, intensifying under the sweet rhythm of his fingers to such a pitch that her entire being seemed to be focused on this tiny, elusive core of pleasure.

She was so close—dear God, so close.

'Don't stop—please.' She hardly recognised her own sobbing whisper.

'Never.'

She sensed the core inside her building up to some pinnacle, strained to reach it, and felt her body explode in unimaginable glory.

She came shuddering back to earth, and some measure of control, and found there were tears on her face. Dominic touched them with his lips.

'You're supposed to enjoy it,' he whispered, teasing her, and she smiled at him waveringly, wonderingly, because she had never known such rapture existed.

The sudden shrilling of the telephone was a raucous, jarring intrusion.

'Don't answer it.' Phoebe caught at his arm as he started to get to his feet.

'I must, or Carrie will be coming in to find out what's wrong.' He freed himself gently and went over to the desk.