Mistress on Loan (16 page)

I'm dreaming, Adrien thought. This is a nightmare, and soon I'll wake up and it will be over. There was a brief and terrible silence. She could see her parents looking aghast, and Angus's face, stricken, suddenly old and defeated, as he turned to look at Chay.

He said tiredly, 'You'd better go and get it. I suppose it's in your room.'

And Chay said quietly, the grey eyes defiant, 'You know it is.'

Angus nodded. 'You'll fetch it,' he said. 'And then you'll leave this house and not come back. Or I can't answer for the consequences.'

'And that's it?' Piers demanded angrily. 'He comes back here scrounging, tries to steal from a guest under this roof, and you just let him go? I say he should be arrested.'

'You're not the master here yet, Piers.' Angus's voice was bitterly forceful. T will handle this matter as I wish. Chay will return the pendant to me, and then he'll leave.'

It was warm in the room, but Adrien felt cold and dizzy suddenly. She caught at her father's sleeve.

'Can we go now—please? I can't bear any more.'

'Yes, of course,' he said swiftly. I'm sorry, darling.'

Her mother came to her side, putting a sympathetic arm round her, urging her out of the room. Back at the cottage, she lay on her bed, uncaring of the creases in the cream dress.

She said, 'Why did he do it?'

Her father said quietly, 'Angus refused to give him any more money. That was his revenge. I'm only sorry that he chose to involve you. That was too cruel' He paused. 'You'll get the pendant back, of course.'

'No.' Adrien began to cry, sobs shaking her body. 'No, I don't want to see it ever again. It's spoiled— all spoiled.'

It would always remind her of Chay, fastening it round her throat. Of his touch on her skin. And she never wanted to remember that—never.

Not just the party had been spoiled, she realised. But her whole life.

Because Chay, whom she loved, was a thief, and therefore lost to her forever.

Adrien stirred, opening her eyes, forcing herself back to reality. For a moment, as she looked at the windscreen, she thought it was raining again. Until she realised that it was her own eyes that were blurred, her face wet with tears as all the old pain tore into her. As the sheer force of everything she felt for him overwhelmed her.

Her unfulfilled body was starving for him, craving him, but that was only part of it. Her heart and mind wanted him too, she thought, pressing a clenched fist to her trembling mouth. Needed him as fiercely as she needed air to breathe.

Had there ever been a time when she hadn't loved him? She asked herself. All these years she'd fought her longing for him, trying to hide behind barricades of bitterness and contempt. Hoping that if she told herself over and over again that she hated him, that would somehow make it true.

But she knew now that all her denials had been useless.

She thought with desperation, I loved him then, and I love him now. But I can't stay with a man I can't trust. And that's all there is to it. And until he allows me to leave, I shall simply have to— endure.

And presently, when she had no more tears left, she started the engine and drove back to the Grange, to face the time that was left.

CHAPTER TEN

Thankfully, there was no one about when she got back to the Grange, and Adrien was able to whisk her tear-stained face and bedraggled appearance safely to her room.

She took a long shower, using her favourite scented gel, and shampooed her hair rigorously. She felt as if she was shedding the past like a skin. And if she kept her eyes firmly on the future, however bleak it might seem, she'd be able—somehow—to cope with the present. That was the theory, anyway. In practice, living under the same roof with Chay but not living with him, it might not be so easy. She towelled herself dry and slipped on lacy briefs and a matching bra. Then, wrapped in the old jade robe, she curled up in her armchair and switched on her hairdryer, combing the long auburn strands with her fingers and flicking them into place with the deftness of long practice.

She had almost finished when a peremptory rap at her door cut across the buzz of the drier. She clicked the off switch and went to answer it, tightening the sash of her robe.

Chay was waiting with thinly veiled impatience. 'I thought you'd gone into purdah.' The grey eyes flicked over her. 'Didn't you hear me knocking?'

'I've been drying my hair.' Just the sight of him was enough to start that helpless inner trembling.

'So I see.' He reached out and fingered one silky strand. His mouth twisted slightly. 'You look about sixteen, Adie, do you know that?'

She thought, her face warming. And when you look at me like that, I feel sixteen again. Aloud, she said with a certain constraint, 'Did you want something? Is there a problem?'

'I came to give you this/ He bent and retrieved a large flat box tied with ribbons that had been propped against the wall and handed it to her.

'What is it?' Adrien looked at it uncertainly.

'Open it.' he advised, following her into the room.

She untied the ribbons, lifted the lid and parted the folds of tissue paper. The sheen of satin met her eyes. Black, she thought, until the light caught it and she saw a shimmer like deep crimson.

It was a dress, she realised as she lifted it out and held it up. Low-necked and long-sleeved, with a brief swirl of a skirt cut cleverly on the bias.

He said, Td like you to wear it for the drinks party on Saturday.' He paused. 'They call it Venetian red.'

'It—it's beautiful.' Her mouth was dry. 'But you don't have to buy me clothes. That's not part of the deal.'

He shrugged 'Look on it as a bonus for all the work you've done for this weekend.'

It was as if the deepest, darkest mahogany had suddenly become fluid, she thought, feeling the beguiling slide of the fabric through her ringers. She said. 'How did you know my size?'

'Would you believe—instinct?'

Her lips trembled into a smile. 'That's probably as dangerous as female intuition.'

'I back my judgement,' be said.

'And the colour,' she went on. 'I—I never wear red/

The grey eyes met hers. 'Try it on and see.'

He was still formally attired in the dark business suit he'd been wearing earlier. He walked across to the armchair and sat down, loosening the knot of his tie and unbuttoning the close-fitting waistcoat. Her throat tightened-'In front of you?'

He nodded. 'Here—and now.' He leaned back in the chair, stretching out long legs. 'I've decided to take you up on your previous offer,' he added softly. She'd always known she would regret that particular piece of bravado. And he was waiting for her to protest— to remind him that theirs was a business relationship—that he'd promised...

Lifting her chin, Adrien untied the sash of her robe, letting her gaze meet his in direct challenge as she took it off and tossed it to the floor. One glance at the dress's wide, deeply scooped neckline had already told her that she wouldn't be able to wear a bra under it.

Still watching him, she reached round and unfastened the clip, shrugging the narrow straps from her shoulders. For a moment she held it in front of her, using the lace cups as a shield, her hands deliberately teasing before she removed it altogether, letting it flow down to join her robe on the floor. She no longer felt awkward or shy under his intense scrutiny. She wanted him to look at her. To do more than look. To touch, and to take. As she would take him.

She raised her arms, unhurriedly pushing her hair back from her face, hearing his sudden sharp intake of breath as she held the pose for a count of seconds. Then she picked up the dress and slid it over her head. It felt voluptuously cool against her heated skin, curving into her waist and skimming her slender hips as it drifted into place. There was a sweet ache in her breasts as the satin caressed their hardening peaks, and she knew that his own body would be experiencing a similar response.

She slipped her arms into the long sleeves, then paused, almost startled, as she glimpsed herself suddenly in the long wall mirror. She wouldn't have dared choose it for herself, but now she saw how the deep, dramatic colour heightened the flame in her hair and turned her skin to milk. As he'd known it would.

She felt different—exotic—all inhibitions flown. She turned gracefully and walked towards him, barefoot, holding the unfastened bodice against her, the skirt whispering about her knees.

She said sedately, 'I need help with the zip, please,' and turned her back to him.

She half-heard, half-sensed that he'd got up from the chair. There was a pause and Adrien tensed, scarcely breathing, waiting...

He sighed, burying his face in her hair, then letting his hands slide under the edges of the dress and close softly on her breasts. She leaned back against him, moving her hips slowly, letting her body brush his with deliberate enticement, blind to everything but the urgent demand of her own sensuality. His hands skimmed her inflamed nipples, drawing a soft whimper from her throat.

He turned her in his arms, his hand tangling in her hair, quenching the fierceness of his kiss in the moist compliance of her parted lips.

When he lifted his head, she could hear the rasp of his breathing, and reached up to draw him down to her again. But he shook his head, his mouth curling into a crooked smile.

He said quietly, 'It would be so easy, Adrien—and so impossible. Because I need more than you have to give. And I won't settle for less.'

He put her from him, gently but decisively, and walked to the door. She clutched the dress against her, her eyes wide with disbelief as she watched him go. At the door, he turned.

He said, 'As I tried to tell you earlier, I have another guest arriving during the weekend.' He paused, then added with cool finality, 'I've told Jean to put her in the room next to mine.' And went.

It was a long time before she moved. Before she was capable of a simple action like taking off the dress and hanging it up. Before she could make her arms and legs obey her, and force her dazed mind to come to terms with what had just happened to her. There was a girl looking back at her from the mirror, a stranger, naked except for a tiny triangle of lace, whose face looked haggard in the growing shadows of the room. Someone who looked solitary, and frighteningly vulnerable.

She stared at this girl, trying to view her dispassionately. To see her as Chay would have seen her only a few minutes before—the small, high breasts, the tapering waist and slender legs. Her eyes shadowy with promise. Her semi-nude body in itself an invitation.

But desirable? She could no longer be sure of anything. Least of all her own untried sexuality. With a tiny cry, Adrien swooped on her robe and huddled it on, and turned away, as if that, somehow, would obliterate the image from her mind.

So much for all the heart-searching she'd subjected herself to, she thought, her throat closing. At the very moment she'd found the courage to tell Chay she'd been wrong about him he'd been trying to tell her that it no longer mattered.

That he'd found someone else with whom he'd share a future instead of a past. Someone who'd value him for the man he'd become rather than the bitter figure of vengeance she'd created in her mind.

He had wanted her, she thought. There had been moments when she'd been quite certain of that. Because he was subject to temptation like everyone else. And tonight had been, briefly, one of those moments.

But in the end he'd walked away, because he was reinventing his life and she no longer had a place in it. Because it was more important to him to keep faith with the new woman he'd found than give way to some transient physical impulse. It might even have been her disastrous attempt at surrender to him which had made the final decision for him, she thought, her hands clenching in involuntary pain. Which had convinced him that the bargain he'd forced on her was not what he wanted after all, but just a sterile, soulless diversion. Perhaps it had made him see how much his new lady meant to him, she thought, swallowing. And that was why he'd returned to London with such haste. To give her the commitment and assurances that she deserved. To put the past, and its questions, behind him once and for all. And now, when it was too late, she knew with startling clarity that it no longer mattered to her what Chay had done, or what he'd been. That it was meaningless to go on doubting him.

Because she was his, and he was hers, for all eternity, and she hungered for him with every breath she drew.

And no amount of time or distance would ever change that. Nor the cold rationality of accepting that he'd chosen someone else and that she was condemned to a wilderness of loneliness.

She gave a small moan and clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

She was like the boy who'd cried 'wolf. She'd told herself over and over again that it was just a job, that there was no emotion involved and she could walk away unscathed at the end. And now Chay had taken her at her word. The contract was broken. The link severed. And only she knew that she was bleeding to death.

There would come a time when she could grieve for what she had lost, but now she needed every ounce of resolve to get through this weekend. To smile and entertain Chay's business guests. To earn, with charm and efficiency, the money that had saved her from disaster. And to bow out with grace when the new lady of the house arrived. Pride demanded that much. She might not be needed at all, she thought bleakly. Perhaps, on balance, Chay might prefer her to leave at once, ridding himself of any lingering temptation and an inconvenient reminder of the past in one fell swoop.

She wrapped the robe round her more securely and went out of her room. At the other end of the corridor she could see that the door of the guest room adjoining the master suite was standing open, and as she stood, hesitating, Mrs. Whitley appeared from the linen room, carrying towels.

Adrien imitated a smile. T hear we're having an extra guest,' she said brightly.

'Oh, Mr. Haddon has told you, madam.' The housekeeper appeared relieved. T understand it was rather a last-minute decision, and he was concerned that it might put us out.'