Mistress: At What Price? (11 page)

A different kind of heat seduced her now, as he pushed his blunt satin tip inside her. A slow, delicious friction stroked and rubbed her inner muscles. A moan escaped her. The long, liquid glide to paradise.

Urgency grew, need sharpened as he urged her higher. She followed, and with fingers, lips, teeth and tongue she urged him, also, to pursue her.

She met him stroke for stroke, matching demand for demand, as their bodies moved in a choreographed dance. Like a perfect storm, he whipped them away together on a flood of sensation until they washed up on some distant shore.

Dane groaned—maybe she did, too; she couldn't be sure—and collapsed on top of her. Their eyes fused on the other's, lips close, breath mingling. His heart was drubbing like a piston against her own.

When he made to pull away, take some of his weight off her, she yanked him back with what remaining strength she had. ‘Don't go.'

‘I wasn't leaving.'

His silky hair brushed her skin as he smiled at her in the dimness. ‘I was thinking we should go inside and find somewhere more comfortable. Maybe get some sleep.'

‘Okay.'

Pushing up, he swept her into his arms and headed for the door. She clung to his neck as he climbed the stairs, barely raising a puff. And just this once she was content to let him play hero.

The cool, smooth sheets beneath her body lulled her towards slumber. Resting her cheek on the pillow of his broad chest, she breathed his scent and listened to his heart return to a regular rhythm. Heard his breathing settle and knew he'd fallen asleep.

So easy for him, she thought. He probably went to sleep with strange women beside him all the time. Why would it be any different with her?

Because he'd told her he'd never brought a woman here to sleep.

She lifted her head to watch him and her heart tumbled. He looked like the boy she'd known, innocent and sweet. Rather than disturb him, she kissed her fingers, laid them lightly against his lips.

When had she ever felt this fulfilled? The answer was easy. Never. Maybe it was because she'd never made love before in so many ways. Body, mind, heart.

But fear snuck through the hazy contentment. If she wasn't very, very careful her heart would be the loser. Big-time. She wasn't going to let anyone hurt her again. Not Dane, not anyone.

She could not allow uncontrolled emotions and past dreams to cloud what was supposed to be a practical arrangement.

And yet she'd allowed him to set this dangerous precedent by bringing her to his bed tonight. She should have insisted he take her to her own room. She'd leave. In a moment. Carefully sliding off him, she shifted to the edge of the bed, closed her eyes to shut out the reminder of his robe hanging on the back of his door.

Somehow she must have slept, because when she pried open her eyes again the pearly light of dawn was pushing back the darkness. Dane's body was sprawled
against her, a heavy palm resting on one breast. Every place their bodies touched was slicked with sweat. Neither had thought to switch on the air-conditioning and a blanket of thick air swamped them.

Too late to slip away to her own bed now.

The vague tingling low in her belly sharpened and spread upward, tightening her nipples into hard peaks. The large-palmed hand covering her breast obviously registered that fact and squeezed gently, then rolled the sensitive nub between his thumb and finger.

‘You're awake.' His hand moved lower—a slow, lazy glide that had her arching into his big body.

‘Mmm… Uh…' Heat blasted her skin and her breath caught as he reached between her legs and slid a finger over still swollen flesh. Her whole body throbbed, tensed.

‘Good morning.' His eyes, smudged with sleep, smiled at her.

He was doing it again, driving her up. Driving her towards the edge. And she had to admit she liked it—especially when he did that thing with his thumb… She was even prepared to let him play there a little longer…

But she had her own ideas…

Twisting, she dragged her body up and over his until she was sitting astride him. She saw him blink, watched his jaw drop as she grasped his sex in both hands and impaled herself. His eyes weren't sleepy now. They were wide and opaque and involved.

‘And a good morning to you, too,' she said. Then she slid down on him in one slow, smooth glide. ‘Now, pay attention. It's my turn.'

 

Dane left for the north of the state later that morning. Because she didn't want to appear needy or clingy
Mariel made sure she'd already left for her little office when it was time for him to leave. Of course she gave him a long goodbye kiss.

She spent the next few days in a frenzy of activity, interviewing potential tailors, sketching new designs and preparing patterns.

He called her every night. She missed him. She tried hard not to, because sooner or later he was going to call it off. She knew that. So she focused on her work. The way to success was so clear she could almost taste it.

Unless…

Instead of writing up her order for new stock one morning, she forced herself to confront the impossible and made an appointment with her family doctor. She'd finished the active tablets in her packet of Pills. Her period was nearly two weeks overdue. She didn't want to start a new pack until she knew why.

 

Dr Judy explained, ‘If you haven't missed a Pill, vomited or used other medication, it's unlikely you're pregnant, Mariel.'

Mariel bit down on her lip while she looked at the older woman who'd treated her for all the childhood illnesses over the years, and felt like throwing up. She'd read the Pill's accompanying leaflet. She knew the advice by heart… Now. And
now
was a little late. A lot late. ‘I was airsick on the way back to Australia. And somehow I miscalculated the time difference and ended up with a spare Pill…'

Dr Judy scribbled something on Mariel's case notes, then smiled at her over her rimless glasses in a grand-motherly way that made Mariel want to crawl onto her
lap and cry like she'd done when she was five and she'd had stitches in her knee.

‘In that case,' she said, ‘why don't we do a blood test?'

P
REGNANT
.

Mariel dived off the edge of Dane's pool and sliced through the blue water with smooth, powerful strokes. Pregnant. She increased her speed as if she could outpace her problem.

Dr Judy had assured her it was a definite positive, and outlined the next steps Mariel should take. Choice of hospital, antenatal classes, vitamins. She'd directed her to a couple of websites that showed images of the foetus virtually from the first week. Imagine that?

Except Mariel could barely remember a thing. A shocked numbness had invaded her body so thoroughly she'd driven back on autopilot and wondered how she'd made it from the hills town of Stirling to the city without an accident. Now, with the refreshing sensation of cool water over her, the shock was dissipating and stark reality was creeping in.

Flipping, she backstroked her way to the middle of the pool, focusing on the sky's cloudless blue bowl above her, keeping her mind on her breathing, her strokes.

Not
focusing on the place in the centre of her belly that suddenly seemed to practically pulse with its own
self-awareness. She couldn't think about the baby…Oh, God, she was having a baby. Dane's baby.

‘Dane,' she murmured. The man who didn't want marriage, who didn't want children.

The man she loved.

Rolling over, she dived deep, listening to the cascade of bubbles past her ears, trying desperately to outrush her emotions. She knew how dramatically everything was going to change.

At the moment Dane was blissfully ignorant, and likely to remain that way for the next couple of days. There was no way she could tell him something that important, that devastating, over the phone. She wondered how long she should let that state of ignorance last. Maybe she could get away with it a little longer while she decided the best way to tell him.

But a secret like that wouldn't be a secret for long.

Finally exhausted, she swiped water from her face as she pushed up out of the water and onto the deck. She shook her head, scattering water, then wrapped her hair in a towel and sat on the edge of the pool.

He'd think she'd manipulated him, the way his former lover had. He'd been prepared to use contraception but she'd told him she was on the Pill. He couldn't have made it clearer that he didn't intend having kids. Ever.

So she'd make it clear she didn't intend to force him into something that would bring unhappiness to both of them. To all of them. Anger, resentment, and finally indifference would follow. And nobody had the right to bring a child into the world to live under those circumstances. Of all people, Dane would understand that.

A sense of surrealism surrounded her as she reached for another towel and, wrapping it around her body,
trudged upstairs to take a long, cleansing frangipani-scented bath. She still hadn't examined her own feelings—couldn't. Deliberately she didn't look at her naked body in the mirror as she turned on the taps. Her maternal instinct must have gone AWOL, or maybe it was simply self-preservation or denial, because she could
not
touch her belly and think about the miracle happening in there.

And she had two days to get used to the idea before Dane came home.

 

In Alice Springs Dane keyed in his home number and switched on his laptop the moment he reached his hotel room. It had become a nightly ritual at seven p.m. over the past week. They'd talk a moment and then, if the reception was clear, switch to computers, where they could see each other while they talked over the day.

It had been a buzz, watching the animation in her face as she told him about her steady journey towards realising her goals. And it gave him an added buzz knowing he'd helped.

Tonight anticipation surged through him. He'd worked it so that he could go home earlier. This time tomorrow he'd be able to say hello to her in the flesh—a surprise he wanted to keep.

He'd never had a woman waiting for him at home. A smile tugged at his lips. Not that Mariel was the kind of woman to wait around.

But tonight she took longer than usual answering. ‘Hello?'

Her voice was breathless and intimate and right up close against his ear, but he picked up on something else, too. He couldn't identify it, but it sent a chill skit
tering over his spine despite the hotel room's ambience. ‘Hi, there, Queen Bee.'

‘Dane… Oh…is it seven o'clock already?'

‘You sound out of breath. Where were you?'

‘I was…in the pool.'

He dismissed the hesitation as breathlessness—she'd told him she was swimming, hadn't she?

‘Turn on the computer,' he said. ‘I want to see you.'

Definite hesitation this time. ‘You want me to leave a trail of water on the stairs, too?'

‘It'll be worth it, I promise.'

‘Not tonight,' she said. ‘I'm not feeling the best.'

He blew out a slow breath, swallowed his disappointment. ‘I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong?'

‘I must have picked up a bug or something.'

‘Why don't you take something for it, climb into bed and get some sleep?'

‘I already am. Will be.'

He frowned. Less than a minute ago she'd said she'd been in the pool. They'd never lied to each other. At least he hadn't lied to her. They'd promised each other open and honest communication. What had changed that? ‘Are you sure that's all it is?'

‘Yes, I'm sure.'

‘I'll say goodnight, then, and let you get some rest.'

‘Okay. Goodnight.'

The way she disconnected he could have sworn he heard the bedside table rattle halfway across Australia. If she
was
in bed? Something had rattled. He felt a little rattled himself.

He stretched out on the hotel's crisp quilt cover. Yes, she was in bed, he assured himself. In
his
bed. Apart from that last night they'd shared, she'd not slept the
night with him in his home, yet he could see her there as clearly as if he were lying next to her.

Her dark hair, smelling of flowers, fanned out across his pillow and tickling his nose. Moon-glow spilling through the tall window, painting her glorious silk-clad body silver.

But in that same moon-glow he saw a single crystal tear track down her cheek.

His smile faded.

 

Dane thanked the chauffeur, unfolded his body and stepped out onto the footpath in the late-afternoon sun. Outwardly, his home looked the same as it always did.

Ah, but inside there was a woman, delicate and strong, beautiful and sometimes aloof, that he couldn't wait to see.

Dumping his gear inside the front door, he walked through the house, seeing evidence of Mariel's presence: her handbag, an international designer jacket draped over a chair. She'd cooked something with chilli and cumin and coriander, the aroma reminding him he hadn't enjoyed home cooking in over a week.

In all his adult years he'd never come home to another living soul. He'd learned independence and self-reliance the hard way. He needed no one; he was satisfied with his own company. But this…contentment was all he could think about. Having someone waiting for him, that was something new.

He stopped at the glass door that led to the patio. Mariel was wearing a sexy one-piece crimson swimsuit and lying in the shade on a slatted recliner with a magazine over her face.

His heart constricted. Not painfully, but quietly, with
certainty. As if it knew something he didn't. Which gave him a second's pause. Had her strange mood of last night altered?

Impatient to find out, he stepped onto the sun-drenched patio. A wave of heat rolled up from the decking, enveloping him in the smell of chlorinated water and sun-bleached wood.

He crossed the deck soundlessly, sat on the shaded recliner beside her so that their hips bumped, and slid the magazine from her face. ‘Hello, gorgeous.'

Sleepy eyes blinked up at him. He watched emotions flicker through their depths as awareness crystallised. Pleasure, then confusion…and something like dismay. But her voice was composed when she said, ‘Either you're a day early or I've been sleeping here a lot longer than I thought.'

He grinned. ‘I managed to finish up early.' He laid his hand on her belly.

Her eyes instantly flared at his touch, and if he didn't know Mariel better he would have said he saw a glint of something close to fear in their depths.

‘I was concerned about you last night.' Justifiably so, he thought now, as she jerked. Her stomach muscles tightened beneath his palm before she swung her legs onto the deck and stood, facing away from him. He stood, too, to meet her on an equal footing.

‘No need,' she said breezily, then turned, smiling, and waggled manicured fingers at him in a flippant manner. Too flippant. ‘I'm fine. I just wasn't up for talking.'

This woman standing before him wasn't the Mariel he knew. What had changed her? Something like panic flitted through his system. ‘You want to explain why?'

Narrowing his eyes, he scoured her features against the low sun's glare. That perfect but slightly aloof smile was her trademark, the smile she showed the world. It wasn't the one he wanted to see. Not here alone with her. Not as her lover.

He wanted to see the smile that lit a glow in her cheeks and sparked fireworks in her eyes, that emanated a soft radiance that filled up an entire room. The smile that shut the rest of the world out and made him the centre of her universe.

‘Not particularly,' she said. ‘Not right now.'

Since her voice had grown husky on the last words and she was still smiling, albeit not the smile he wanted to see, he took that as an invitation and moved closer, ready to forgive and forget if he could just reacquaint himself with the taste of her mouth.

He refused to try and interpret the tremble he felt in her lips as they met his. He coaxed her gently, cupping her neck, angling her jaw for a better fit when he felt her spine soften, her body turn pliant. Her hands crept to his shoulders, curving around his neck like ropes of silk.

Satisfaction slid through him on a rising tide of desire. He could lure her with one persuasive kiss. Wasn't she already right here with him? All the way?

He hauled her against his burgeoning erection, her damp bathers slick and cool against the front of his T-shirt, and his hands tingled at the thought of how her skin would feel when he peeled the fabric from her.

She moaned against his mouth, whatever was bothering her obviously forgotten as she poured herself into the kiss, arching against him so that he splayed one hand against her back to support her.

Everything forgotten as he lifted his mouth from her lips to roam across the smooth curves of her face. Cheeks, eyes, brow, jaw. Her long twist of ebony hair slithered damply over his forearm; her fingers dug little grooves into his neck.

Now,
this
was coming home. While he could still stand, he leaned down and, with one arm beneath her knees, swept her into his arms and headed for the door.

Her softly fluttering eyes were startled open.

‘Relax,' he said, kissing her brow as he reached the staircase. ‘I've decided that from now on carrying you upstairs is going to become part of my daily exercise routine.'

Mariel's heart stuttered. Not when he knew what she had to tell him, it wouldn't.

Steel eyes met hers as his footsteps stalled on the stairs. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I smell like chlorine,' she whispered. ‘My hair's still wet.'

‘You think I care?'

‘I guess not…' Weak with wanting, and powerless to resist what she knew was coming, she allowed herself to be carried up the stairs—again—like some modern-day Scarlett O'Hara.

Because she knew it would be the last time.

One last time to know how it felt to be made love to by Dane.

The sheen of the day's heat reflected on the ivory-coloured walls as he laid her on his bed.

Yanking his T-shirt over his head, he stripped naked in ten seconds flat, then crawled onto the bed. She'd never seen such passion in his eyes as he slid the straps of her bathers over her shoulders and down her arms.
Her nipples, already hard from desire and damp, puckered further as he drew the fabric away.

Then he was tugging it from beneath her bottom and sliding it down over her thighs, her knees, her ankles. He reached out, traced the curve of one breast. ‘I'd say you were beautiful, but you've heard it before.'

Mariel heard the casual tone, rather than the compliment, and her heart constricted. ‘Not from you, I haven't. Not this way.'

His eyes met hers, a long, lingering hold that imprisoned her with silent and steely intensity.

‘So tell me.' Her voice was edgy with impatience. Just once, she wanted to hear it from Dane's lips.

His eyes crinkled up around the edges for a moment, then his expression turned serious once more. ‘Ninety-nine percent of the time beauty's an accident of birth. That's what men see when they look at you. So when I tell you you're beautiful I'm not only talking about the softness of your skin or the colour of your eyes. It's inside you, Queen Bee, where it counts.'

As he spoke, his palm seared her skin, rubbing slowly beneath her left breast, then over her concave belly.

Over his unborn child.

Tears gathered in her heart. She wanted to weep. She sensed something more in Dane's voice today. More in his eyes, more in his kiss. Over the past few days her vision had cleared, as if a curtain had been lifted. It didn't matter that they argued and disagreed. That there'd always be vocal and noisy differences of opinion. Who was right and who was in control?

It didn't matter.

Under different circumstances she'd have asked him if it was the same for him, no hesitation. If nothing
else they'd always had trust and honesty between them. With time and patience
maybe
she could have had it all, but she'd carelessly thrown that chance away. Because there was no negotiation where children and Dane were concerned.