Return of the Forbidden Tycoon Page 4

  Oh, if only she was. If only she could make that excuse and leave, but if she did Sue was bound to worry. It wasn’t fair to her friend to disrupt her dinner party.

  ‘Not ill…just slightly tired,’ she fibbed. ‘I stayed up too late last night…’

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dominic’s mouth curl downwards.

  ‘It seems that widowhood hasn’t changed your lifestyle then, Mrs Hammond.’

  Kate wasn’t sure who was the most shocked by his comment; Vera Benson was staring quite openly at him, while Sue’s eyes had widened to their furthest extent. Neither of the other two couples seemed to have heard his remark, but John was looking at him, frowning slightly.

  Please don’t let me be sick, Kate prayed feverishly. Of them all, only she knew what Dominic meant.

  ‘I was working,’ she said tonelessly. ‘An idea for a design—’

  ‘I didn’t realise you already knew Kate, Dominic,’ Vera Benson interrupted, plainly puzzled that he had not mentioned it before.

  ‘I knew her husband,’ he corrected, his voice grating slightly as he looked across the table at Kate. ‘He was—a client of mine.’

  Suddenly it was almost too much for her. He was baiting her deliberately, she thought bitterly…he was deliberately trying to push her into…into what? Into admitting what she had once tried to do? But why? Oh, she could understand well enough why he might loathe and despise her, even why he should want to punish her…but didn’t he realise he had already done that in the most effective way there was?

  Suddenly too tired to pretend any longer, she looked directly at him, forcing herself to meet the cold blaze of his eyes.

  ‘My late husband was a compulsive gambler,’ she said wearily for Vera Benson’s benefit, adding for Sue and John’s, ‘Mr Harland’s company was the one that loaned Ricky money against the security of the farmland.’

  ‘Very neat, Mrs Hammond, but I notice you were very careful not to explain exactly why your husband turned to gambling.’

  His mouth was a tight line of anger, the bitter words hitting her like bullets, making pain explode inside her. She had no defence against what he was saying. She wanted to cry out that it was not her fault she had not been the wife Ricky wanted, that it was not her fault that…

  Instead she gathered all her self-control round her and speaking slowly and carefully, spacing out the words so that her voice wouldn’t tremble, she said quietly, ‘My friends don’t require explanations, Mr Harland, and others don’t warrant them.’ Then she dropped her eyes to her plate and made a pretence of being totally involved in eating what was left of the chocolate mousse Sue had served.

  She was also too aware of the atmosphere around her. Vera Benson was chatting animatedly to John, trying to pretend that nothing untoward had happened. Sue got up to remove their plates, and sensing a reprieve, Kate got up to help her.

  Only when they were safely inside the kitchen did Sue speak, her fair skin flushing, anger darkening her soft blue eyes as she burst out, ‘What an absolute rat! I swear, Kate, if I’d known, I’d never have agreed to have him here. The Bensons just asked if they could bring a friend.’

  ‘Please, Sue, honestly it doesn’t matter. You couldn’t have known.’

  ‘But he was so rude to you! What on earth was he trying to imply when he made that crack about your lifestyle?’

  ‘I… I don’t really know,’ Kate lied. ‘I only met him once when Ricky brought him home for a weekend. I’ve no idea what Ricky told him about the way we lived.’

  ‘Not the truth, that’s for sure,’ Sue commented bluntly, ‘otherwise he’d be singing a very different song. How on earth did Ricky come to be involved with him in the first place? Vera was telling me he’s virtually a millionaire, very strait-laced and honourable in all his business dealings too, apparently—hardly Ricky’s cup of tea, I would have thought.’

  ‘No. He and Ricky were at school together, and Ricky’s grandfather invited him to spend the holidays at the house a couple of times. His mother was South American, and his parents spent a lot of time over there. Ricky said something about his mother’s family being extremely wealthy.’

  ‘South American. Mmm… well, that would explain that fantastic tan…and those looks… Still, I think I’d rather have my John,’ Sue commented. ‘He might be a good-looker, but he’s far too hard and judgmental for my taste. Of all the things to happen,’ she wailed miserably, ‘just when I’d persuaded you to come out of your shell a little!’ She saw her friend’s white face, and flung down the cloth she had picked up, grabbing Kate’s arm instead. ‘Oh, Kate, don’t let him get to you,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s obvious he doesn’t know the first thing about you…the sort of person you are. He’s obviously making his judgment of you on something Ricky must have told him, and we all know what Ricky was. Please don’t let it upset you. If you like I’ll get John to have a word with him and put him right.’

  ‘No!’ The sharp panicky denial sounded over-loud in the comfortable kitchen and Kate blenched again, saying more gently, ‘No, honestly, Sue, it’s okay. After all, I’m hardly likely to see him again, am I? It really doesn’t matter what he thinks.’ She forced a tight smile. ‘Please…let’s just forget about the whole thing.’

  ‘Okay, if that’s what you want,’ Sue agreed reluctantly. She had been looking forward to seeing Dominic Harland’s arrogant face change when John told him the truth about poor Kate and about what Ricky had done to her.

  ‘Come on, everyone will be waiting for their coffee,’ Kate reminded her strategically.

  Vera Benson came over to sit with Kate when Sue had served them their coffee in the drawing-room.

  ‘I feel I must apologise for Dominic’s behaviour,’ she said hesitantly to Kate. ‘I honestly don’t know what came over him. He’s normally most charming. I hadn’t even realised he knew you.’

  There was a trace of speculation in her voice, and Kate said evenly, ‘Well, we only met once when my husband brought him home for the weekend. Tell me, what exactly did you have in mind for this glass panel?’ she asked, quickly changing the subject, but only listening with half her attention as her companion started to talk about her plans for the conservatory.

  Kate wasn’t the first to leave. The two couples who had travelled together went first, but once their car had disappeared, Kate, who had followed Sue and John into the hall, announced that she too must go. This way she could avoid having to say goodbye to Dominic Harland, and although Sue frowned a little, she let her go without too much protest.

  For once her car started first time, but she was shaking so much that she crashed the gears badly as she took off down the drive. Not until she was home would she feel safe, if then. How could it have happened? How could fate have been unkind enough to thrust Dominic Harland back into the arena of her life, now, when she was finally making an attempt to get over the past?

  CHAPTER THREE

  ONLY when she was safely back in her own home could she let the memories sweep over her, devastating her with their intensity, overwhelming her so much that she only had to close her eyes to be transported back to the past… To the morning after Dominic’s arrival with Ricky.

  She had been downstairs in the kitchen when Dominic walked into it, ducking to avoid the low beam close to the door.

  As she turned to greet him that same flicker of sensation she had felt last night licked through her body, making her tense and stare up at him. He was taller than Ricky, and broader—much broader, she realised, the breath trapping in a spasm in her throat as she absorbed the masculinity of his torso beneath the thin material of his shirt. She wanted to look at him and go on looking at him, she realised feverishly, and more—she wanted to reach out and touch him, to…

  ‘Ricky mentioned last night that you might be able to locate a spare razor for me… I forgot to bring mine.’

  The cool censure in his voice snapped her back to reality, her nerve endings so raw that she practically flinched as he ran his hand r
aspingly against the stubble of his unshaven jaw.

  It was an effort to drag her concentration away from him, and force herself to remember where she had put Ricky’s spare razor after she had had it mended.

  By the time she had found it, she was trembling agitatedly, her confusion in no way leavened by his presence in the kitchen with her. It was a large enough room to hold a family, never mind two adults, and ordinarily it felt very spacious, but today for some reason the walls seemed to close claustrophobically around her, pressing in on her so that every time she moved she was intensely conscious of Dominic’s presence.

  He wasn’t the first friend Ricky had brought home by any means, although lately Kate had grown used to not seeing her husband over the weekend—he normally stayed in London, where or who with she had no idea, nor any real wish to find out. Her marriage was a mockery of everything that marriage could be, but there was no way out of it for her. Ricky refused point-blank to even consider a divorce. Her mother, it seemed, was still giving him an annual allowance, which would naturally cease if they were divorced. ‘And don’t think she’ll give you a home,’ he had warned Kate the last time she had raised the subject of divorce, ‘because she won’t. She wants you even less than I do. God, when I think about it, what she’s paying me to keep you out of her hair is peanuts!’ His voice had turned ugly with malice and spite. ‘And don’t think anyone else would want you…what man in his right senses would want a cold bitch like you? Face it, Kate, it’s either marriage to me or destitution, and since I’m not prepared to let you go, you don’t really have a choice in any case.’

  ‘Thanks.’ The dry cool voice pierced through her thoughts, his fingertips cool and firm as they touched her hand briefly as he took the razor.

  ‘I…’

  He paused mid-stride towards the door and turned to look queryingly at her. Her heart was thumping heavily, a fine film of perspiration dampening her skin. What was she doing? Panic clawed wildly inside her as she recognised her own insane desire to keep him with her just a little longer.

  ‘I’m just making Ricky a cup of tea. Would you like me to bring you one up as well?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The door opened and he was gone. Kate leaned limply against the units, completely wrung-out emotionally and physically. What was happening to her? You know what’s happening, a wry inner voice mocked. You’re a sex-starved wife who’s suddenly found a man who can turn you on.

  She had got used to the sharply acid comments of this inner voice lately, and what it was saying to her now came uncomfortably close to the truth.

  A surge of inner restlessness took over her, possessing her even though she tried to shake it off. Why shouldn’t she be attracted to another man? After all, Ricky had no interest in her; he constantly humiliated her with his other women… She was twenty years old and, as far as she could see, condemned to a life of complete celibacy. Unless of course she took a lover…

  Hard on the heels of this shocking thought came the cynical knowledge that there must be more of her mother in her than she had ever thought. And yet why should it be so shocking for her to want to be made love to? She was a completely normally functioning female, wasn’t she? She closed her eyes, trying to stem her turbulent, dangerous thoughts, but instead all she could see was Dominic Harland’s dark, taut face, his hands reaching out to touch her body. Panting for breath she opened her eyes. This was ridiculous. But was it? Was it so unexpected that she should be attracted to him? Even with her inexperience she could see that very few women would be immune to such a man. The very cool hauteur with which he looked at her ignited a reckless need to see the coolness in his eyes change to hot passion. She wanted him, she acknowledged on a wave of very painful self-knowledge, she wanted him as mindlessly and needlessly as any female creature driven compulsively by an overriding inner urge to find a mate. But did he want her?

  Telling herself that she was being a complete fool, she started to make the tea. How could a man like. Dominic Harland want her when her own husband didn’t? Strangely enough, the ache of Ricky’s not wanting her, which she had long ago seemed to come to terms with, flared up anew, and refused to subside.

  She made the tea and poured two cups, putting them on trays, and adding a couple of biscuits to each. She took Ricky’s tray up first. Her husband was still deeply asleep, in the morning sunshine his face had an unhealthy pallor. Drained of the frenetic energy that seemed to possess him when he was awake, he looked almost lifeless.

  Kate went downstairs for the other tray and carried it up to the guest suite, pausing to knock on the door outside. When there was no reply, she turned the handle and walked in.

  She was just putting the tray down on the bedside table when the bathroom door opened. She turned automatically, colour seeping up under her skin as Dominic wandered into the bedroom, towelling his hair, the rest of his body completely nude.

  Head bent, it was several seconds before he saw her. Seconds during which she could do nothing to alert him to her presence, seconds during which she simply stood and greedily and shamingly drank in the physical perfection of his body.

  When he saw her, he didn’t react at all as she had expected. Calmly wrapping the damp towel round his hips, he came towards her and said evenly, ‘Tell me, Kate, how long have you and Rick been married?’

  The question startled her, making her touch her tongue to suddenly dry lips and respond huskily in a cracked voice:

  ‘Two years…’

  ‘He must have married you almost out of the schoolroom.’

  ‘I… Yes, I was eighteen…’

  He was standing so close to her now that she could hardly breathe. He had showered and she could smell the fresh lemony scent of his soap on his skin, see the tiny beads of moisture slicking down the hair on his chest. Fine dark hair which, as she knew, ran in a narrow line over the hard flatness of his stomach, and then… But no…her body trembled as she tried to shut away the memory of how his naked body had looked.

  Amazingly, suddenly he smiled at her, his eyes golden and amused as he said teasingly, ‘I’m the one who should be embarrassed, you know, not you. After all, it isn’t as though I was the first nude male you’ve ever seen, is it?’

  When he smiled at her, really smiled properly, the creases alongside his mouth held just a suggestion of a dimple, and the look in his eyes seemed to bathe her in a golden heat.

  Suddenly it all overwhelmed her, and she was embarrassed. Not by what she had seen, but that she had looked and gone on looking, and was even now feeling the thunderous reactions to the sight of him thudding through her veins. She turned to flee, an automatic, unthinking reaction, but he reacted just as automatically and far faster, blocking her exit, gripping her wrist and pulling her towards him, laughter glinting in his eyes as he shook his head.

  ‘Running away?’ He shook his head. ‘You should never do that, you know.’

  ‘Why not?’ Kate asked the question without thinking, using the words to hold at bay her tumultuous reaction at being so close to him. She felt almost too weak to stand up, and had to fight to stop herself from swaying into his body.

  ‘Because running away makes a man want to chase, and then do this.’ His voice had dropped to a throaty whisper, as soothing and hypnotic as the purr of a jungle cat, but like the jungle cat he was most dangerous when he seemed to be most gentle, and Kate gasped her shock, as her girlish daydreams were suddenly transformed into reality, and his grip on her tightened, his head bending so that his mouth could taste hers.

  Ricky had kissed her before they were married, but never like this, never using his tongue to tease and prise apart the softness of her lips; never in a way that made all her insides melt and then burn liquid pleasure so that she wanted the kiss to go on and on.

  When his mouth left hers, Kate could only stare up at him in bemused delight, her mouth slightly parted, innocently begging for more, but the humour had gone from his eyes, and now they glowed dark amber. Even her innocence could not
protect her from the anger and contempt she could see bracketing his mouth, and a terrible sense of somehow having disappointed him flooded through her. She disengaged herself from his embrace and stepped back, unaware of the damp patches on her blouse where she had been pressed against him, too conscious of the intense constraint in the air around them to consider anything else.

  Dominic didn’t look at her as she fled for the door, simply standing with his back to her and his head slightly bowed.

  Why had he kissed her? It was a question she asked herself ceaselessly through the day. Ricky had taken Dominic out, ostensibly to look round the estate, and she had been surprised to learn that Dominic had spent the odd holiday at the house during his schooldays.

  ‘Your grandfather was a very rare man,’ he had commented to Ricky over the late breakfast she had prepared for them. ‘You were lucky to have him, Rick.’

  Her husband had just shrugged, and Kate, who well knew her husband’s view of the gentle old man who had brought him up, wondered if Dominic knew her husband as well as he thought. Ricky had despised his grandfather, and had been contemptuous and bitter of all the money he had given to local charities, claiming that charity began at home, and that he had far more need of it.

  It was while she was preparing the evening meal that an answer to the question that had been tormenting her all day presented itself to her.

  Dominic was a very experienced and worldly man, no doubt he had had even more affairs than Ricky. No doubt he had kissed her simply in automatic reaction to her presence. A tiny thrill of pain sliced through her, quickly followed by the heady knowledge that he must have wanted to kiss her. And if he had wanted to kiss her, might he also not want to make love to her?

  She wanted him as her lover, Kate knew that now. She also knew that she ought to feel ashamed of herself for doing so, but the tensions created by her marriage had coalesced into a violent need to prove that she was womanly and desirable.