For Revenge or Redemption? (11 page)

Just thinking about how she responded to him in bed made him burn with the need to feel her nails digging into his back, to have her crying out his name—and only his—as they drove each other wild until they were sated. It didn’t cool his ardour much to tell himself that it was because of his raging hormones where she was concerned that they were in this situation now. But the simple fact was that she
was
pregnant…

‘Well, after what I heard Corinne saying on the phone…’ he began, with his voice thickened by desire, ‘I don’t think I need even question whether it’s mine, need I?’

As the Mercedes took a sharp left-hand turn that tipped Grace nearly into his lap, shame and humiliation leaped like angry flames to scorch her pride.

‘You bastard!’ Automatically her hand flew up and was instantly dealt with by a stronger one before it could make contact with his cheek.

Deftly she found herself pressed back against the cream leather upholstery with that long, lean body angled across hers.

‘Believe it or not, it was meant as a compliment,’ he breathed with menacing softness.

‘Some compliment!’ It came out on a squeak as excitement ripped through her, her senses leaping into overdrive from the hard, arousing weight of his body. Trying to collect her thoughts, she guessed it would be a major boost to his ego to realise he was the only lover she had ever had. But if he knew that then she would be lost, she thought despairingly, his to do whatever he wanted with, because she would have no defence then against his devastating sexual magnetism.

‘Don’t believe all Corinne tells you,’ she got out tremulously, because he hadn’t moved. He was still holding her
captive as if he didn’t trust her not to fly at him the instant he let her go. Or maybe he just liked being in control…

The need to assert command over her own actions had her wriggling against it.

He merely laughed at her ineffectual struggling. ‘I won’t, if you promise not to,’ he said, letting her go.

‘Promise not to what?’ she quavered, even though he was sitting back on his own side of the car again now.

‘Believe everything that Corinne Culverwell says.’

His tone was less than complimentary at the woman with whom he had supposedly shared a recent spell of unfettered passion. So what was he implying? Grace wondered with a leap of hope that made her despair at her own weakness in wanting to believe anything he might chance to tell her. That he really had gone to Madeira just to finalise a deal, as he had assured her he had on the phone that morning?

And if she believed that she would believe anything! she thought, realising that she was in very grave danger of trusting him—at least where his integrity was concerned.

The Mercedes pulled up at the kerbside and Seth handed her out onto the pavement. A young family passed them, a mother pushing a toddler in a buggy, a child of about four riding piggyback on the shoulders of the man beside her. They were all laughing, at ease with one another; happy.

Moments later Seth was guiding Grace through the foyer of one of London’s most exclusive apartment-blocks. Chandeliers glittered, silver shone from highly polished surfaces, catching the reflection of a massive floral-display in the centre of the main area, while Grace’s pumps sank into a carpet as soft as manicured grass.

This sort of luxury wasn’t new to her. She had been born to it and had been accustomed to it until Culverwells’ diminishing fortunes had meant everyone having to tighten their belts. But the young man with the motorbike who had had to drag himself out of virtual poverty had to have striven hard for this
type of living—the cars, the plane, the power. Unbelievably so. She couldn’t help but be impressed and a little overawed by the drive and determination he must have had to bring it about.

Nevertheless, as he brought her up in a lift with mirrored walls and they stepped out into a luxurious suite of rooms on the top floor of the building, she murmured, ‘Trying to impress me, Seth? What are you trying to prove? That you’ve done well for yourself?’

His mouth pulling down on one side, he gestured for her to precede him into a huge room with deep pale sofas and panoramic views of their great city, which at this time of day was a glittering universe of twinkling lights. ‘I don’t think I need to do that. I leave proving to lawyers and those whose job it is to provide us with our daily bread. But, yes, I have done well.’

‘And you’re flaunting it for all you’re worth.’ His droll comment lent a curve to her mouth, though, and she realised that what she had just said wasn’t totally true. Though the sumptuous drawing room in which he was inviting her to sit down was well-appointed, it was also uncluttered and exuded an air of understated elegance that was both tasteful and refreshing.

‘What did you prefer, Grace—my being poor and totally at your mercy?’

Her eyelids pressed against the dark wells of her eyes as she sank down into the sofa’s cushioning softness. Would he flay her with that for ever? It didn’t make it any easier that her head felt as though it was splitting in two.

That rough edge to his voice, however, made her wonder if he meant at her mercy
emotionally
, until she realised how dangerous it was to think like that. Seth Mason was hard. He only meant at the mercy of the circumstances that getting involved with her had got him into.

‘And you think,’ she said feebly, looking painfully up at him, ‘That by getting me pregnant you’ve got me at yours?’

His soft leather shoes made only a light sound over the varnished floor. ‘You aren’t at my mercy, Grace. Just at the mercy of your inability to resist whatever this thing is between us. Just as I am.’ The curl of his mouth was self-mocking. ‘And right now, yes, you are carrying my child. But don’t worry. The situation can be easily remedied.’

She jumped up, and wished she hadn’t when her head felt as though it had just exploded. Even so, that didn’t stop her tossing back, ‘That’s about the sort of reasoning I’d expect from you! If you think I’m going to simply take the easy way out just because you can’t bear to think of your
enemy
presenting you with a baby—wasn’t that what you said we were the day you took over the company?
Enemies?
—you’ve got another thing coming! I don’t want anything from you beyond a little recognition that you’re its father. You can play around with whoever you want to, just so long as you acknowledge that. It makes no difference to me.’

‘On the contrary.’ His slow stride over the immaculate floor was measured, predatory. ‘I find your being pregnant with my child rather satisfying.’

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

‘Why?’ she asked guardedly. ‘Because you think it would be one in the eye for the Culverwells to have to acknowledge your offspring as one of theirs?’

She meant because of the desire he’d been nursing all these years to avenge his family for the way they had suffered. Too late, though, she realised how it had sounded, as if he’d be tainting the pedigree blood of her family with the questionable origins of his.

For a moment his eyes blazed, but then his lashes came down and something like self-satisfaction shaped that hard mouth as he said, ‘If it pulls you down off that class-conscious
cloud you’re obviously still clinging to, then, yes, I can’t deny that it’s a rather ironic twist of fate—don’t you think?’

Because he hated snobbery, Grace knew, as much as she did now, although she knew she could never convince him of that in a million years.

‘And you will have something from me, Grace. I’m not asking you to take the easy way out. In fact, I strictly forbid you to do anything that would harm our child. No, we’re going to assume responsibility for this little one’s life—together. And that means a marriage licence.’

‘A marriage licence?’ She was staring at him, wide-eyed with shock, her heart seeming to stand still. ‘You can’t be serious?’

There was no humour in his face as he advised, ‘Believe me, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. There’s no way any child of mine will grow up without the close presence of a father in its life.’

‘As you did.’

‘And as you did, I believe. After what Corinne told me about your own father deserting you, I’m surprised you’d even consider denying your own child that right.’

She had never talked about her father to Corinne, so the woman had obviously gleaned that information from Lance Culverwell.

‘Well, you certainly had a good chin-wag about me, the pair of you, didn’t you?’ she accused in a wounded voice.

Seth’s grimace said it all. Her grandfather’s widow was garrulous enough without any help from him.

Amazingly, in spite of everything, some deep-boned intuition told Grace that Seth Mason would never be a party to idle gossip, and once again she found herself coming to believe that his dealings with Corinne were purely professional.

‘The fact remains,’ he said, ‘that you were abandoned by your father, and through whatever circumstances he scarcely
figured in your life. Don’t let that happen to your own baby.’

Her head was banging so much she was beginning to feel sick; she didn’t feel up to having this conversation with him.

Still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had actually proposed, unable to quite believe it, she said quickly, ‘A lot of women manage perfectly well as single parents today.’

A shoulder moved beneath the superb tailoring of his jacket. ‘It’s up to you, but I’d like to think that you wouldn’t be that selfish.’

When he was prepared to marry a woman he didn’t love for the protection and well-being of his child.

‘You make me feel I have no choice,’ she uttered, feeling the strands of a silken web being slowly but insidiously woven around her.

‘You do have a choice. I’m just asking you to make the right one.’ A few lithe steps brought him within heart-stopping distance of her. ‘Oh, come on, Grace.’ His voice was soft, sultry, deep, like a jungle cat purring. ‘It won’t be so bad.’ The fingers suddenly lifting her chin up, compelling her to look at him, were excruciatingly tender. ‘Maybe I’m not the lawyer-doctor-accountant type you’ve always dreamed you’d be marrying.’
As if!
she thought almost hysterically. ‘But we’ve got something that will ensure that any union between us will never be dull.’

He meant in bed.

A wave of excitement curled along her veins, a silent betrayal by her body of all it wanted—no,
needed
—from him, no matter how strongly her brain tried to deny the fact.

The shock and emotion were too much for her in her present state. As the room seemed to go wavy before her eyes, she dropped her head into her hands with an involuntary little groan, trying to stave off the threatening nausea.

She heard the low invective Seth uttered and could do nothing to resist the arms that were sweeping her effortlessly off her feet. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?’ he scolded softly.

Caught against his hard, warm strength, her mind and body reeling with myriad sensations, somehow Grace managed a pained little smile. ‘You only seemed concerned with what was going to happen to your baby.’

Those masculine lips curled in self-derision. ‘Believe it or not, I do have a vested interest in its mother, too.’

He carried her through into the quiet luxury of the master bedroom. Compared to hers it was a sanctum of modern living, from the sinking carpet that bore his silent, effortless steps, to the monstrous bed with its very masculine but state-of-the-art cushions and covers that he dragged aside before setting her down on the dark-burgundy sheet covering the mattress.

Helping her out of her coat and jacket and then stooping to remove her shoes, he pressed her gently back on the pillow and pulled the duvet up around her.

‘If you want anything,’ he told her quietly, ‘I’ll be in the next room.’ The degree of solicitude behind that simple statement brought a painful lump to her throat.

‘A vested interest’, he had said, but only because she was having his baby. He didn’t care about her for herself. So why was she letting herself imagine such depth of emotion in his voice?

Nevertheless, no matter how much he had wanted to hurt her and her family, she thought, there was no doubt that he would accept his paternal responsibilities. The hardship and the poverty he had endured as a child and then, thanks to her, as a young man desperate to support the family who had taken him in, had obviously contributed to his determination not to let any child of his suffer in the same way. Although, even without that, there was no question in Grace’s mind that he would still have held the same view about being a seriously
hands-on parent. But was she prepared to let him help her bring up her child? Marry him? Apprehension coupled with excitement didn’t do much to ease the painful banging in her head.

If she didn’t, she reflected, and she decided to go it alone, there was no way that her child would go without seeing its father at regular intervals; Seth would demand that, of course, and she wouldn’t try and stop him seeing his child—no matter how much it might hurt her to have to face him on a personal level from time to time, because she didn’t think she would be able to carry on working with him after this. Her child would never want for anything financially. But was that enough?

She remembered how it had felt growing up. Her grandparents had been wonderful, had given her everything she could have wanted. But, guiltily, sometimes she had missed the fun and activities that her school friends seemed to have with their parents—particularly their fathers—younger, more energetic adults who could get involved in a game of tennis with them, or chase after them before scooping them high into the air shrieking with laughter, as fathers always seemed to be able to do. Fathers who were always there and didn’t disappear for months, or even years, on end. She had missed having a birth mother, of course, but she had missed her father more than she could ever put into words, because she had known he was around somewhere. Just not with her. And that had hurt more than she had ever dared to let herself accept.

She thought of the little family she had noticed on the way up here. Two children. Two parents. A happy balance. She owed her child that much, didn’t she? And if—
fingers crossed
—this little one growing inside her went to its full term, was born safely…