Bound Together by a Baby Read online

  Now it was his turn to look confused and frown, as though bewildered by the way he had confided in her and admitted his vulnerability.

  Kate was surprised as well, and—yes, flattered, she acknowledged, while mentally berating herself for being so predictably female.

  And yet his confidence had been no male ploy. It had been spontaneous and honest. She had an insane desire to reach out and touch him, and both it and the fear it brought showed briefly on her face. She withdrew from him, half stumbling as she started to move away.

  She heard Rick curse, but he made no move to touch her, and that sensitivity to her feelings made her whole body prickle warningly. This man was dangerous to her, dangerous in ways that she was only just beginning to be able to calculate. He drew responses from her, both verbal and physical, she would never normally have dreamed of giving…made her feel things she had no desire to feel…made her see things both about herself and him she had no wish to see…

  ‘I’ll go and make you a hot drink,’ she heard him saying curtly, and Kate tried to convince herself that she wasn’t experiencing a sharp sense of loss as he turned his back on her and walked into the kitchen.

  She winced as she limped painfully across the hall, and by the time she had reached the top of the stairs, despite the icy chill in the rest of her body, her ankle felt as though it were on fire, throbbing agonisingly with every step she took.

  Once inside her bedroom, she didn’t even bother to turn on the light, dragging herself over to the bed and almost falling on to it. She lay there, alternately shivering and sweating, drifting in and out of an awareness that kept urging her to do something important, but she couldn’t quite reach out and grasp what it was. Her ankle and calf hurt… She reached down to ease off her shoe to soothe the pain, her mind clouded by the trauma of the evening and the onset of exhaustion, so that she was only half aware of the swelling round the ankle and the hot fire of her skin.

  She wanted to get undressed and have a shower, but it was too much of an effort. She was cold and she knew that she ought to remove her wet clothes and get beneath the bedclothes, but she simply couldn’t find the strength, so instead she gave in to the exhaustion numbing her and closed her eyes.

  At first when Rick walked into the bedroom he thought she was still in her bathroom, and then in the streetlight that illuminated the room he saw her lying on the bed, the light streaming in, highlighting her swollen ankle.

  He put down the drink he had made and went over to the bed, quickly examining the swollen flesh. Despite his care, Kate muttered and winced, opening pain-hazed eyes.

  Rick was looking at her with a mixture of ire and consternation. She tried to sit up, instinctively seeking to defend herself against a pity she didn’t want by pretending that she was all right, but the movement jarred her ankle and made her cry out.

  I’m going to call your doctor,’ Rick announced curtly, stepping back from the bed.

  A doctor was the last thing Kate wanted. All she needed was to be allowed to go to sleep so that she could get warm and forget the traumas of the evening.

  ‘No,’ she argued. ‘It isn’t necessary.’

  A violent shivering fit accompanied her denial, her teeth starting to chatter. ‘I just want to go to sleep and get warm,’ she added under her breath, whimpering slightly as she tried to move and jarred her foot.

  Her ankle was sprained and not broken, Rick acknowledged, and she was probably right, warmth and sleep were probably more important to her right now than a doctor.

  ‘All right,’ he agreed, giving in. ‘Don’t try to move. I’ll run a bath for you and then come back for you.’

  ‘No!’ Kate protested sharply, halting him with the vehemence of her rejection. ‘I can manage.’

  Garrick looked into her white face and saw the stubborn firming of her chin. She was different from any other woman he had known, her stubborn independence both irritating and unnecessary.

  Walking back over to the bed, he leaned over her and said levelly, ‘I’m almost tempted to let you try, but we both know you couldn’t even get as far as the door on that ankle.’

  ‘If you’d let me come upstairs the moment I got in instead of cross-questioning me, I’d have been perfectly all right,’ she fibbed, glaring at him, her defiant stance spoiled by the sudden fit of shivering that convulsed her.

  Grim-mouthed, Rick headed for the bathroom door, and she could hear him running water into the bath.

  She felt as weak as a kitten, boneless and completely unable to move. She knew she ought to be doing something, taking off her wet clothes perhaps and putting on her robe, but it made her head ache just to think of so much painful activity. It was much, much easier to simply close her eyes and let the sound of the running water soothe her. She imagined herself lying in it, lapped in luxury and warmth, and she gave another shiver, unpleasantly conscious of her damp clothes and cold skin.

  ‘Kate.’

  The curt voice so close to her ear made her flinch. Rick had moved so quietly, she hadn’t heard him come back in. She opened her eyes and stared at him with confused uncertainty.

  ‘Bath’s ready,’ he told her in a clipped voice.

  She started to sit up and found that her muscles were simply too weak to respond, leaving her to flop inelegantly back on to the mattress.

  ‘Here, drink this,’ Rick ordered, lifting a mug to her lips.

  A strong smell of brandy assailed her, making her gasp and push the mug away.

  ‘I’m not drinking that.’

  ‘Oh, yes, you are,’ Rick retorted grimly. ‘It probably smells worse than it tastes; hot milk laced with brandy, that’s all it is. It will warm you up and help you sleep.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ Kate told him petulantly, gasping with shock when Rick suddenly put the mug down on the table beside her bed, and then hauled her into a sitting position, ignoring her angry protests and then firmly imprisoning both her hands at her sides simply by circling one arm around her, leaving him free to use the other to lift the mug to her lips and say savagely, ‘Drink it!’

  Sensing that to refuse would only prolong her humiliation, Kate opened her mouth and obediently took a swallow. She gasped as the spirit burned her throat, making her choke and splutter, but Rick ignored her protests and refused to give up until she had almost drained the mug.

  She had no idea how much brandy had been in the milk, but already she felt dizzy and light-headed. So much so that she was barely aware of the fact that her arms were free and that Rick was briskly unzipping her dress, until she felt the warmth of the centrally heated air against her cold, damp skin.

  As she tensed, as though sensing what she was going to say, Rick told her harshly, ‘Both of us know you’re in no fit state to do this yourself, Kate, and I hope both of us know that I’m not about to take advantage of the situation.’

  He had difficulty steadying his hands as he made that second statement. The truth was that he was already affected far more than was safe, and it didn’t matter how much he told himself to be clinical and detached, his body flagrantly ignored his commands to deny its awareness of her.

  ‘No, and I’m not your last employer,’ Kate muttered breathlessly as he moved her gently so that he could slide the damp dress down over her hips.

  ‘Right,’ Rick agreed tonelessly. ‘Now that we’ve both agreed that neither of us is in the least danger of being seduced, perhaps we can get on with the task of getting you bathed and into bed.’

  Busy trying to analyse just why the odd roughness that had entered his voice should send such a frisson of sensation spiralling down her spine, Kate didn’t realise quite how literally he meant his comment, until she discovered that he was unfastening her bra and peeling the damp silk away from her skin.

  She was lying on her front, but even so a hot, fierce surge of heat turned her pale skin scarlet, her head lifting so that she could look over her shoulder at him and hiss frantically, ‘That’s enough! I can do the rest myself.’

&nb
sp; ‘Is that right? Then how come I found you flat out here still in your wet clothes? I admire your modesty, Kate, but there’s a time and place for everything, and this isn’t it.’ His hands rested loosely on her hips. She could feel their warmth through the thin silk of her panties.

  ‘You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before, you know,’ he told her half mockingly, and as she jerked round to glare furiously at him he took advantage of the movement to grip hold of both her briefs and tights, easing them past the feminine curve of her hips before she realised what was happening.

  He had never been an indiscriminate lover, and was accredited with far more partners than there had actually been, but there had certainly been enough for the female body not to be a mystery to him any longer, and yet there was something about Kate’s…something about the shadowed mystery of the narrow curve of her waist; the soft swell of her stomach, held taut in nervous dread and quivering just slightly; the gentle mound between her thighs that was clothed in soft shadow; the defensive angling of her body, that moved him almost unbearably.

  Tense and watchful, Kate could feel the embarrassed heat spreading through her. She had never paid much attention to her own body, never compared it with those of other women, because there had never been any need. Since she had no intention of loving anyone or sharing her life with them, she had had no need to look at her body in the light of its appeal to a man. Now she wondered whether Rick’s stillness was caused by revulsion or amusement.

  She started to shake violently and not because she was cold.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Rick demanded softly.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ he queried, tensing.

  ‘Like I’m some kind of…of inferior specimen of my species,’ Kate said wildly.

  His head turned slightly and his glance locked with hers; alert and dangerous. ‘Is that what you thought? You couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life.’

  And as she started to protest that he was lying, his hands cradled her hips and he bent his head and gently kissed her quivering stomach not just once but several times, until his lips came to rest for the briefest fraction of time just above the soft rise of flesh that protected her womanhood.

  ‘Perfect,’ he repeated in a hoarse, unsteady voice, and then he released her and stood up abruptly, picking her up in his arms before she could formulate a single word of protest, saying flatly, ‘That bath water’s going to be cold.’

  It wasn’t, but Kate was quite certain that nothing could feel as hot as her skin where his lips had caressed it. What on earth had made him do it? Had he felt sorry for her? Was that it? It must have been, because he certainly didn’t desire her.

  He refused to leave the bathroom, but at least allowed her to wash herself, and she sank beneath the water in a belated attempt to hide her nudity from him. Unaware that her thoughts were quite clearly visible on her face, she froze as she heard him say, ‘You’re wrong, you know. I do desire you, and don’t even think about looking for proof. The way I feel right now, there’s nothing I want more than to take you to bed and make love to you all night and to hell with the consequences.’

  Too stupefied to say a word, Kate could only give him the odd covert glance as she struggled to finish her ablutions. Was she dreaming or had Rick just said that he desired her?

  She gave him a brief glance from beneath lowered lashes and heard him swear softly. ‘Don’t push me, Kate,’ he warned her harshly. ‘The last thing you need right now is me in your bed, but that’s exactly what you’re going to get if you keep on giving me those curious little looks.’

  She glared at him, and he laughed grimly,

  ‘OK, go ahead and glare at me if you wish, but you’re looking at me as though you’d love to know what my body would feel like over yours, and if you don’t stop it, I promise you you’re all too likely to find out.’

  Quite how she would have responded, Kate didn’t know, but a violent fit of sneezing saved her the trouble, and before she could protest Rick had lifted her out of the water and wrapped her in a huge warm bath towel.

  ‘I think for the sake of my health as well as your own, the sooner you’re tucked up in bed, the better,’ he told her huskily. ‘Can you manage to dry yourself while I go downstairs and fill a hot-water bottle for you?’

  Kate nodded. In fact, she felt weaker than ever, but she dared not tell him so in case he thought she was inviting him to make love to her.

  But what if she did? Would it really be the end of the world—the end of her self-respect? Wasn’t she entitled to relax the tight control she had kept over herself for once in her life? After all, they would not be hurting or harming anyone…neither of them owed any commitment to anyone else, and if she knew that Rick could only be a brief interlude in her life, that didn’t stop the fierce ache inside her that his soft warmings had aroused.

  She wanted him to make love to her, she recognised on a thrill of shock. For the first time in her life she was experiencing the reckless, heady drive of desire…the need to fulfil her female destiny, the urge to surrender her independence and know the dangerous thrill of loving another human being.

  Loving. She tensed, her muscles locking. Rick had been talking about sex, not love. Love was what she felt for Michael, and had nothing to do with the fierce clamour in her senses that Rick aroused.

  Physical desire could play dangerous tricks on the unwary; and that was all she felt for Rick—physical desire. There was nothing else. There could not be anything else.

  By the time he returned with her hot-water bottle, she had managed to stagger painfully back to bed. She took the hot-water bottle from him with a cool thank you. It was better this way, she assured herself as he left the room. Better, wiser, safer. So why did she wish she had been born a different person? The kind of person who could have subtly and freely indicated that there was no need for them to sleep alone. She would feel better in the morning, she promised herself. She would be glad then that she had acted the way she had.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  BUT she wasn’t, not really. When she woke up in the morning still drowsy from sleep, Kate wasn’t sure what had caused the small ache low down in the pit of her stomach. She rolled instinctively on to her stomach, trying to banish it, and then abruptly turned over and shot upright, a wave of heat crawling over her skin as she realised just exactly what the ache was.

  Furious with herself for what she saw as a weakness in her defences, she got out of bed, refusing to wince as her still swollen ankle twinged painfully.

  She could walk on it—just about, she told herself grimly as she half hobbled, and half dragged herself to her bathroom.

  She dressed in a full, soft wool skirt with which she could wear boots which would both disguise the swelling and give her ankle some much needed support. It was a struggle getting them on, and at the back of her mind lay the knowledge that she was behaving both foolishly and irresponsibly. She would be much wiser simply acknowledging the fact that she had hurt herself and working at home for a couple of days.

  But she couldn’t do that. Now that they had lost any chance of getting James’s contract, she was going to have to work doubly hard just to bring in enough money to cover her commitments. As she checked her make-up, she berated herself mentally for her folly in not handling James better. If she hadn’t panicked, if she had used a bit of tact…a bit of flattery…

  A brisk rap on her bedroom door stemmed the flood of guilt. She called out coolly, ‘Come in,’ not wanting to admit even to herself how hard she was having to struggle to suppress the faint fluttering of tension in her stomach.

  Rick came in, carrying Michael, and a mug of coffee.

  He frowned when he saw that she was dressed and out of bed. He himself was wearing jeans and a soft woollen checked shirt with the sleeves rolled back, revealing the muscled hardness of his forearm.

  Michael nestled sleepily in the crook of his arm, obviously more than
content to be with him, and she had a sharp pang of dark resentment. She should be the one holding Michael.

  She was jealous, she recognised miserably. Jealous of the fact that Michael had settled down so well with his new nanny. Was this how other working mothers felt when the time came to return to their work and leave their child in the care of someone else? The violence of her feelings confused her. She loved Michael, but he was surely incidental to her life? A responsibility she had taken on and would do her best for, yes—but it was her career that was the focal point of her life, surely?

  Was it? If it had been, wouldn’t she have tried harder last night to placate James? Wouldn’t she surely have refused to flinch at his proposition and dealt with it in a far more professional and judicious way?

  ‘I don’t believe I’m seeing this,’ Rick commented brusquely, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Don’t tell me you actually mean to go into your office? For God’s sake, woman, have you no sense? You’re in no fit state.’

  How long had it been since anyone had expressed this kind of tough male concern for her? How long had it been since she had experienced a very feminine responsiveness to it? Not since her parents had died, surely? That knowledge frightened her; she felt as though she had suddenly stepped on to very treacherous ground and was quickly being sucked down into the trap of its dangers. Emotionalism was the weakness that always trapped her sex, that deflected it from its course; and it was a weakness which men had exploited callously for their own benefit for hundreds of generations. Well, no one was going to exploit her.

  ‘I think that’s for me to decide, don’t you?’ she told him crisply.

  She dared not look at him, no matter how in control she sounded. She was all too conscious of the held-in irritation emanating from him, the very male impatience with what he no doubt considered to be her very feminine stupidity.

  ‘Take Michael downstairs and give him his breakfast, will you, please, Rick?’ she requested with crisp efficiency, still refusing to look at him. ‘I want to get an early start today. I’ve rather a lot to do.’