Rebecca Hagan Lee (29 page)

"Oh, Cristina." He reached out to her. "Having you live in my house has been the greatest joy of my life."

She gave him a wry look.

Blake held up his hand. "All right, at times you've been a disruption and a royal pain, but I wouldn't change any of it. Not a thing. And this child you're carrying is no more of an unwanted responsibility than you've been.

You've been a welcome addition to Lawrence House and our baby will be as well.

He's not a burden, he's a joyous opportunity for both of us."

"What about your career? Your name and reputation? I would hate for you to become another Lord Ainsford. I left London so I wouldn't cause you any more problems." Cristina felt the tears roll down her face.

Blake stopped dead in his tracks, unable to believe his ears. Could she really mean what she said? Had she tried to protect him by sacrificing her honor? "Cristina, sweet, brave Cristina, you and this child mean more to me than my career." He touched a stray curl that had fallen against the soft skin of her neck.

His tender touch was her undoing. His fingers seemed to sear her flesh, marking her as his. She made a deep sound in the back of her throat and Blake recognized it for what it was--an unconscious echo of desire.

It was all he needed. His lips were cool and soft against the base of her throat before roaming upwards to meet hers in a fiery kiss that made her forget everything except her need for him.

"Cristina ..." His moan expressed the months of agonized longing. Then he was kissing her again, holding her close against him, allowing her to feel his passion.

"Stop, Blake, please, stop ..." Cristina fought the flood of emotions that threatened to drown her senses, trying desperately to regain her composure against overwhelming odds. "Please listen to me. We mustn't do this."

"Why not?" he murmured against her lips as he moved his hands to cup her full, sensitive breasts and used his thumbs to tease her taunt peaks through the soft velvet. "Don't you want me to do this, Cristina?"

"I don't want to be hurt. And you can hurt me, Blake, without even trying.

Please don't hurt me again. Let me go."

"I'll do my best not to hurt you ever again, sweetheart." He tore his mouth away from the tempting spot at the base of her neck.

"But you will..."

Blake cupped her face in his hands and stared down at her watery green eyes. "I don't understand, Cristina. Tell me why you're so convinced I'll hurt you."

"Because you don't trust me. You didn't trust me enough even to tell me you'd been married. You never told me about Meredith."

Blake froze at the sound of Meredith's name on Cristina's lips. The color drained from his face and he grew so still that Cristina thought he might even have stopped breathing.

Blake stabbed his fingers through his hair, then turned from Cristina and began to pace the room.

His reaction frightened her. She'd never seen him so agitated. "I'm sorry, Blake. I wasn't prying--really, I wasn't. But I overheard some of what you said to your aunt. Forget I mentioned it. I was curious. It isn't important.

The fact that you were once married has nothing to do with me. It's really none of my business. I'm sorry," she repeated. "I never meant to bring up unpleasant memories. She was your wife. I know you must have loved her very much."

Blake stopped pacing and turned and faced Cristina, and when he spoke this time, his words were all the more shocking for the depth of emotion in them.

"No, Cristina, I didn't love her very much. I hated her."

"What?" Cristina stared at him, at his rigid posture and the way his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at his side.

Blake took a deep breath, then slowly expelled it as he forced himself to let go of the anger. Cristina watched as he slowly relaxed his frame, unclenched his hands, and sat down on one of the chairs. He leaned over, propped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. "It's a long story."

Cristina walked over to him, knelt beside him, and rested her forehead against his thigh. "I'll listen if you want to talk."

Blake looked down at her shining hair and managed a crooked half-smile.

"It's not a pretty tale--not something I'm proud of."

"We all have parts of our life we'd rather forget and things we wish we'd never done."

"Not innocents like you," Blake said.

"Me, too," she told him. "I wish I'd gone to you with news of the baby as Nigel had advised me to do. I wish I'd never met Rudolf. I wish I'd never come to Vienna. But most of all, I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you in London."

Blake leaned back in the chair, then reached out and began to stroke Cristina's soft, silky hair. "I met Meredith when I was twenty. I was just home from Oxford and about to take up a post as an aide to my father here in Vienna...."

Cristina listened as he told her about his courtship and hasty marriage. He didn't go into great detail; instead he related the story as if it hadn't hurt so much--as if it had happened to someone he knew rather than to himself. But Cristina knew how it hurt to have a loved one betray your trust and she choked back tears as Blake told her how he had found Meredith making love with his first cousin only hours after repeating her marriage vows with him.

"I couldn't bring myself to touch her after that," Blake concluded.

"Why didn't you have the marriage annulled?" Cristina asked.

"I wanted to, I threatened to, but Meredith swore she'd go before the church board and testify that I'd been her lover before we married. And since she wasn't a virgin, the only alternative was divorce and the inherent scandal it would cause." Blake sighed. "I wasn't willing to subject my family to that sort of notoriety, so we remained legally married."

"I'm sorry, Blake. I'm so sorry."

"Ssh," he soothed her. "It's all right. It ended when she died."

But Cristina knew it hadn't ended. Pain like that didn't go away simply because the person who caused it died. It lingered. It left scars--invisible scars that no one could see, and sometimes other, more visible signs. Cristina reached for Blake's hand. She smoothed his palm over her cheek, then brought it to her lips and covered it with fervent kisses.

"No, Cristina, don't." Blake didn't want her to grieve for him--for Meredith's sins. "It's in the past. It's not worth your precious tears."

"I'm not crying for you or because Meredith betrayed your trust," she told him. "I'm crying because I did. Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. You left me because I didn't give you reason enough to stay. But you're here now, sweetheart, and that's all that matters to me."

Cristina knew he meant it. She couldn't find any reproach in his eyes or his voice. But she also knew he wondered about her current relationship with Rudolf and that she could ease his mind. "He hasn't touched me."

"Oh, Cris, you don't have to--"

"I persuaded him to bring me to Vienna by telling him I was going to have a baby. He immediately accepted responsibility and promised to take care of us."

"In return for what?" Blake asked.

"Me," Cristina whispered. "He wants me for his mistress after the baby is born." She looked up and met Blake's gaze, facing the painful look in his eyes without flinching.

Blake took Cristina's hand in his larger one. "Do you want to be Rudolf's mistress?"

Cristina shook her head.

"Then would you consider becoming my wife?"

"Wife?"

Blake smiled at her blank look. "Yes, you know--as in husband and wife."

"Do you mean it?"

"I've never meant anything more," he vowed. "Lawrence House has been like a tomb since you left. I need you, Cristina, and I want you with me. You and our baby. I don't give a damn about damage to my career."

Cristina choked back a sob and fairly flew into Blake's waiting arms. She had waited three long months for him to come to her and say he wanted her with him. She had prayed every day that Blake would come to Vienna to get her and her prayers had finally been answered.

She closed her eyes and melted into his embrace.

Blake held her close to his heart, kissing her with months of pent-up passion. He wanted Cristina and no other woman would do. For three months he had felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He had walked around in a daze, barely able to function because there was a huge gap in his chest where his heart should have been. He had been an empty shell of a man until he'd come to his senses and admitted how much Cristina meant to him and how much she had taken with her when she left.

He tightened his hold on her and kissed her face and the salty tears in the corners of her eyes, breathing in the unique fragrance of her hair. "Let me love you, Cristina."

Cristina went willingly, allowing him to take her hand and lead her to one of the blue and silver wall panels. She frowned at him, puzzled, until he pressed against the panel and a door swung open. Blake bowed before her.

"My secret chamber awaits, mademoiselle." He swung her up into his arms and carried her inside.

She gave herself up to his skilled hands as he undressed her tenderly, revealing the body he knew so well, finding himself amazed and fascinated by the changes that had occurred. Her waist had thickened to accommodate the child, her once-flat belly was rounded with the flesh stretched around her navel. Blake lightly traced the circle of her navel with his fingers, marveling at the increased sensitivity of her skin. She shivered with pleasure. His moved his fingers higher, teasing her full breasts, then roamed downward to peel the silk stockings from her long, slim legs. He completed his mission, kneeling on the carpet in front of her, his lips pressed against the soft reddish-gold curls covering the mound at the junction of her thighs.

Cristina reacted immediately, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing him closer, groaning at the spark of fire that swept over her when his tongue penetrated the tangle of hair.

"Sit down, sweetheart," Blake nudged her backward until Cristina half sat, half lay on a tiny couch. "I want to taste all of you." He buried his face between her legs, continuing the wildly exciting probing of his tongue.

When he finished his exploration, Cristina lay panting with the force of emotions that had flamed within her. Blake raised his face and smiled when she reached out for him. He moved onto the couch and lay next to her, fondling the turgid peaks of her breasts with his hands before his mouth followed in their wake.

Cristina tried to pull him closer. She wanted to feel him above her, but Blake would have none of it.

"The baby," he murmured between kisses, "I don't want to harm the baby." He rolled away from her and stood beside the couch.

"Please ...," Cristina begged, reaching for the throbbing bulge inside his trousers.

"Oh, hell, sweetheart, I can't contain myself if you do that," he groaned.

"I don't want you to contain yourself. I want you to make love to me." She eagerly unfastened the buttons of his trousers while he divested himself of his shirt and coat.

When he stood naked Cristina reached for him once again, pulling him down on top of her.

Her eyes widened in surprise when Blake reversed their positions and carefully guided himself into her warmth. He helped her to move above him, lifting her with his hands, teaching her the motion. Cristina reveled in the new freedom. She rode him hard, rocking above him then sensuously gliding down his length, driving him to the limits of his endurance.

Blake watched her moving above him through passion-glazed eyes, biting his lips to muffle his groans of pleasure. She had become a wicked temptress, teasing and taunting him with her power over him. She reveled in the power as she set the rhythm and he followed obediently.

Cristina enjoyed knowing she could still arouse him so completely that he couldn't hold back his exclamations of pleasure. She leaned forward suddenly, letting the ends of her hair tickle his chest.

Her sudden movement was almost his undoing.

"Do you surrender?" she teased provocatively. "Or shall I continue my torture?"

"Torture away," he gasped. "I'll never surrender willingly."

Cristina threw back her head and laughed with the sheer joy of the heady new sensation of power. But Blake brought her attention back to him by firmly grasping her hips, holding immobile and impaled on his hardness.

"I allowed you some freedom and I see I've created a monster. I'll have to regain control," he gasped as he guided her up and down the pulsating length of him, forcing her to continue the rhythm when she would have teased him, until they both lost control and cried out in unison.

And when they floated gently back to earth, Blake carefully rolled away, then settled Cristina comfortably against the curve of his body before he drifted off into a contented sleep.

"Ssh."

Cristina opened her eyes to find Blake bending over her, fully dressed in immaculate evening clothes. He held one finger to his lips, while he balanced a cup and saucer in his other hand. "We overslept," he confided. "But I managed to smuggle you some tea."

Cristina slowly became aware of the noise drifting up from the rooms beneath them. She sat up and gratefully accepted the cup of tea. "What's going on?" she asked.

"A reception." He made a wry face. '"The ambassador and Mrs. Paget are giving a reception for the British citizens in Vienna. I hate these tedious affairs." He winked at her. "I'd much rather stay in bed with you.

Unfortunately this tedious affair has been given in my honor."

Cristina turned a brilliant shade of crimson as the memories came flooding back. She vividly recalled Blake carrying her through the secret panel to this office-bedchamber. She stared down at the rumpled couch, remembering the mutual passion that had exploded as they lay entwined in the cramped bed. She pulled the wrinkled coverlet tighter around her. "I thought you were the ambassador."

"Ambassador-at-large is the correct title; sort of a roving do-gooder, and it's only temporary. Until I'm sent elsewhere."

"You'll be sent away? I thought you just arrived."