Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Unexpected Child

The Unexpected Child
Kate Walker


FROM HERE TO PATERNITY He was only after one thing - her baby! Natalie had been in love with Pierce Donellan since she was eleven, and when he came knocking on her door again she just couldn't turn him away. But she hadn't considered the possible consequences. When he learned she was pregnant, Pierce insisted on a wedding.But Natalie's unexpected child was the only part of Pierce's heart she was ever likely to possess. Although Pierce did seem determined to make their marriage a real one… .FROM HERE TO PATERNITY - men who find their way to fatherhood by fair means, by foul, or even by default!







“I want my child, Natalie.” (#u037511bb-f432-59fc-a26d-3fa8ce6eab28)About the Author (#u3216a97a-7b81-591c-86f8-c89b603da57b)Title Page (#u136ab507-e0ef-5541-9e58-d5508d38ada5)CHAPTER ONE (#u9d70483b-9e2c-53b5-b791-11c44a7cc628)CHAPTER TWO (#u0fcf7fbc-9784-5a7f-b54a-47b121d0b81b)CHAPTER THREE (#u671d1f3c-be5c-5d02-a464-361466f8898a)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“I want my child, Natalie.”

Pierce continued, “I want to know it, love it, see it grow up—”

“You want—you want!” Natalie flung at him bitterly. “Tell me, Pierce—what’s in this for me?”

“A husband who would support you—a home....”

No word of love, but then, what had she expected?

His child—that was all that mattered.


FROM HERE TO PATERNITY—romances that feature fantastic men who eventually make fabulous fathers. Some seek paternity, some have it thrust upon them, all will make it—whether they like it or not!

KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, England, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots were there. She met her husband at university and she originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats, and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theater and, of course, reading.


The Unexpected Child

Kate Walker










www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHAPTER ONE

AS NATALIE let herself out of the house, the clock in the dining room struck the half-hour, making her stop dead at the sudden realisation that just twelve hours had passed since she had opened the same door on the previous night. Barely half a day, and yet the impact of that time on her life was immeasurable; it would never be the same again.

If she had stuck to her original impulse to ignore the summons of the doorbell, then this would have been just a normal Monday morning, her thoughts only of the coming weeks, with their lead up to Christmas and its pantomime, nativity play and all the other activities the school would be involved in. But the bell had rung again, more insistently, it seemed, and, realising belatedly that with the lights on and the curtain wide open she could hardly pretend not to be at home, she’d got to her feet reluctantly.

‘What is it?’

Impatience rang in her tone as she pulled the door open, letting in a blast of cold night air that made her shiver in spite of the warmth of the cherry-red tuniclength sweater she wore with black stretch leggings. An icy wind blew a couple of strands of her dark hair into her heart-shaped face.

‘Just what—?’

The words died on her tongue, her brown eyes opening wide, as the light from the hallway spilled out onto the tall, masculine figure standing at the top of the steps.

‘Hi, Nat.’

In spite of the painful familiarity of the voice, Natalie had to blink hard in order to convince herself that she really was seeing clearly.

‘Pierce?’

It was all she could manage, shock numbing her brain so that she found it impossible to think. More than ten years ago, she had been knocked completely off balance the first time she had ever seen Pierce Donellan, and since then she had never been able to recover any degree of mental equilibrium where he was concerned.

He still had the power to deprive her of speech, the impact of his forcefully male attraction positively lethal to any hope of composure. Even casually dressed as he was now, in worn jeans and a navy sweatshirt, under a black leather jacket, with his black hair blown wildly around his head by the wind, and raindrops scattered like diamonds amongst the jet strands, he had a heartstopping male beauty that closed her throat and drove coherent thought from her mind.

‘Nothing to say, Nat?’ That cool voice was threaded through with a note of mockery that she remembered with a sense of discomfort from the past. ‘That isn’t like you. You always seemed to have plenty of opinions, and were only too keen to make sure that I heard every one of them.’

‘You took me by surprise—you were the last person I expected to see.’

And that was the absolute truth. She had long since convinced herself that Pierce Donellan would never again be part of her life, and if some weak, impressionable piece of her heart had still retained the foolish hope that things could be otherwise, then the news that had set the whole village buzzing only the previous month would have put paid to that.

‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’

Pierce’s grin in response to her unsettled tartness was disturbingly boyish, even slightly shamefaced, the appeal of that lopsided smile winging its way to her frighteningly vulnerable heart and tugging at it sharply. After believing that she had lost him for ever, she couldn’t suppress the rush of joy that flooded through her to see him like this, and yet stern realism told her that she would only be laying herself open to more hurt if she let him just wander back into her life as he had always done before.

‘Would you believe I was just passing?’

‘No way.’

Still not sure how to take him, she tried to harden her heart against him, knowing with a sense of despair that it was a vain attempt. One more smile like that one and she was done for.

‘Not even you could be “just passing” Holme Road on the way to anywhere. For one thing, it’s a cul-de-sac, and for an—’

‘OK, I confess! I was on my way to hide out at the Manor when I realised that with my mother away at Angela’s there would be no one around. The housekeeper’s on holiday so the place will be deserted, the heating off, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to look up an old friend.’

“‘Old friend?’” Natalie echoed, injecting a note of scepticism into her words and struggling to make herself feel something of the same emotion—an effort that was weakened as Pierce moved more into the light so that she saw with some concern how pale and drawn he looked. Or perhaps that was just the effect of the moonlight draining all the colour from his skin.

‘Don’t you think that’s something of an exaggeration? The truth is simply that my mother was your family’s cook and housekeeper for some years and you occasionally condescended to speak to me.’

Oh, why couldn’t time have given her some degree of objectivity? Why couldn’t absence have put a distance between her and this man so that, if not exactly out of sight, out of mind, then at least she might have had a chance of facing him with some sort of confidence?

With anyone else, she could behave as the mature professional of twenty-four she was. But Pierce seemed to be able to strip away the intervening years with a glance, reducing her once more to the gauche and rather prickly adolescent she had been when they had first met, a situation that was made all the worse by the knowledge that her foolish dreams had been just that—fantasies, without a hope of coming true.

‘And you were never exactly a regular visitor even when you lived in Ellerby. That would be too much like slumming for the Lord of the Manor. I can’t imagine what brings you here—’

‘You know I always hated that nickname!’ Pierce’s words cut in on her, cold and hard as his expression. ‘If I’m not welcome, you only have to say.’

Already he was turning away. He was perfectly capable of leaving without another word, Natalie realised—prepared to walk out of her life as easily as he had strolled back into it, and with no further explanation. Stern common sense said she should let him go, but her heart cried out in protest at the thought. It was almost three years since she had last seen him. If he went now, would she ever see him again?

‘Well, now you’re here, the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee!’ she said, pushing aside her hesitation as she opened the door wider. ‘Come in before you freeze, and...’

Her voice faded as she turned from closing the door to find him standing so close behind her that her arm brushed against his as she moved. In the dark confines of the hallway, he seemed somehow bigger, much more forceful than ever before, making her feel even less than her average five feet five. The lean, strong frame seemed to fill the small space so completely that she was suddenly gripped by the unnerving feeling of being trapped alongside some powerful jungle cat, with no idea when or even if it planned to pounce on its potential prey.

‘Go into the living room,’ she said hastily, knowing she sounded as disturbed as she felt. She could think of no possible reason why Pierce should seek her out like this after all this time. ‘there a fire in there; it’ll soon warm you up.’

The unexpected tension that had tugged at her nerves also drove her to switch on the main overhead light as she followed him into the room, not feeling at ease with the shadows cast by her small desk lamp. Her first sight of Pierce in the sudden brightness had her taking a step back in surprise.

‘Are you all right?’

He looked dreadful, she acknowledged privately, his skin drawn tight over the strong bones of his face in a way that etched lines around his mouth and eyes, and the pallor she had noted earlier and now saw was not just a trick of the moonlight made him look drained and haggard, an effect that was aggravated by the dark stubble that shadowed his cheeks.

‘Just tired.’

Pierce rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, but not before she had glimpsed, and worried over, the unnatural, almost feverish glitter that burned in their sapphire depths.

‘The motorway was hellish—the world and his wife seemed to be on their way to somewhere from somewhere tonight.’

‘Everyone would be trying to get home at the last minute after the holiday, I suppose.’ Taking her cue from his casual dismissal of her concern, Natalie tried to make her words sound light and more relaxed than she actually felt. ‘They’d want to be back in time for school tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, that’d be it—I’d forgotten it was half-term.’

The blue eyes went to the desk in the corner, the clutter of papers highlighted by the glow of the lamp, and he frowned swiftly.

‘Oh, hell—I’m sorry—you were working and I’ve interrupted you.’

‘Not at all! I’d just finished.’

Mentally Natalie crossed her fingers against the white lie. Every instinct she possessed told her something was wrong—because she didn’t believe that ‘old friends’ routine for one moment.

‘So—can I get you something to drink? Coffee?’

‘I’d rather have something stronger if you’ve got it.’

‘There’s only sherry.’

‘Sherry will be fine.’

It was as she handed him the drink that another thought occurred to her, making her wonder if in fact alcohol was the best thing for him.

‘Have you eaten?’ It was the question she should have asked before she had poured him the sherry, she told herself reprovingly.

‘Not since lunch. I didn’t want to waste time by stopping for food—I wanted to get away from London as quickly as possible.’

‘Was it as bad as that?’

‘You’d better believe it.’ Pierce took a swallow of his drink and she was glad to see that a trace of colour returned to his cheeks. ‘I broke the speed limit almost all the way here.’

Which seemed to imply much more than just a casual visit home—and Pierce’s beloved Porsche was capable of some very high speeds indeed. That thought had Natalie moving hastily to the window, twitching aside the curtain and looking down into the street, concerned for the safety of the expensive vehicle. This area of town suffered particularly from the problem of joyriders. As he watched her, Pierce’s mouth twisted sharply.

‘You needn’t worry.’ The dark irony of his tone stung bitterly. ‘I parked the car a couple of streets away. No one will know that I’m here.’

‘That wasn’t what was bothering me.’

‘Oh, wasn’t it?’

His voice was harsher now, dangerously reminiscent of the anger that had been in it on the night of her eighteenth birthday, the night that had finally destroyed any chance that she and Pierce could ever regard each other as anything remotely resembling friends.

‘According to you, you’re the one with the reputation to lose.’

If his earlier comment had distressed her, this one actually had her mouth opening on a shocked gasp, a rush of anger driving away any pain it might have brought.

‘And what about you?’ Natalie retorted. ‘Don’t you think it might damage your reputation to be seen calling on—?’

‘On one of the lowly peasants on the family estate?’

The coldly drawled question had Natalie taking an instinctive step or two backwards away from him. She had only ever seen Pierce in this sort of mood once before and it had frightened her then as it did now.

‘On the contrary, my dear Natalie, I would have thought that it would very much enhance my reputation if people knew I was here.’

His intonation had changed again. This time the words were smokily sensuous, seeming to coil round her thoughts, clouding them, mesmerising her.

‘What about the droit du seigneur that I’m supposed to lay claim to—the one thing I want from innocents like you?’

Inwardly, Natalie winced in response to his deliberate reminder of the words she had flung at him long ago, in a haze of hurt and anger. Then, as now, he had smiled as he spoke, but without any real warmth, his mood seeming light-years away from anything even vaguely resembling amusement, except of the darkest, harshest kind.

‘After all, Ellerby is positively medieval in so many of its attitudes—don’t you think that as Lord of the Manor I should be able to take my pick of the local village maidens?’

‘Pierce—’ Natalie tried huskily but he ignored her and, with that smile that made her think fearfully of a lazy tiger indolently surveying its prey, moved smoothly and silently to her side, lifting one hand to brush the backs of his fingers slowly down her cheek, making her shiver in involuntary response.

‘If I can find any—maidens, that is,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “They’re something of a rarity these days. Most modern girls are so knowing—sure of themselves—so—’

He broke off abruptly, staring down into her heart-shaped face with an intensity that had her drawing in a quick, sharp breath and holding on to it, afraid to let it go.

‘But not you, Nat—with those big doe’s eyes and that innocent face...’ A soft thumb brushed the fullness of her mouth. ‘You’re so very different.’

Suddenly he frowned, making her heart lurch in apprehension. In spite of the fact that he wasn’t even touching her now, she felt trapped, held transfixed, like a rabbit petrified by the headlights of an oncoming car.

And like that terrified rabbit she knew instinctively that her situation was filled with danger, that by staying still she was risking pain and destruction for herself. She had to do something to stop this.

But even as her mind recognised that fact and screamed frantic instructions to her limbs to run to safety it was as if the fear itself had paralysed her and she couldn’t move an inch.

‘But I don’t like the way you’ve started to do your hair,’ Pierce murmured, gesturing towards the neat coil with undisguised scorn. ‘It’s too tight—too controlled. You look like a schoolmistress.’

‘I am a schoolmistress.’

‘Not now—not at this time of night. Now you’re off duty, and so—’

Before she could realise what he had in mind, he had moved swiftly, his hands going unerringly to the pins that held the long, dark swathe of her hair confined at the back of her head. With two confident tugs he freed them, smiling with disturbingly sensual satisfaction as the ebony mane tumbled round her neck in waving disarray.

‘Much better,’ he declared, and then, to her complete consternation, he combed his fingers gently through the tumbled strands, smoothing them onto her shoulders with a touch so soft and gentle that it was all she could do not to close her eyes in languorous response, her lips parting to shape a murmur of delight that she only just choked back in time, realising it had been in the form of his name.

‘Now you look positively kissable—in fact—’

‘No!’ Natalie cut in swiftly, suddenly afraid to hear more. The bitter irony of the situation struck home like a poisoned knife with the thought that years ago, even just a month or two before, she would actually have welcomed the sort of things he was saying—or, at least, the things she thought he was saying. Because the way he spoke was so darkly sardonic, those brilliant blue eyes holding no degree of warmth, that she couldn’t be absolutely sure. But now, even if he did mean them, it was far too late. He was committed to another woman, and all his compliments should go to her.

‘Pierce.’ She tried hard to make it sound firmly determined but didn’t succeed very well. ‘You can’t say things like that when you don’t mean them.’

‘And how do you know what I mean and what I don’t? Have you suddenly become telepathic, so that you can see into my mind?’

The faint downward movement of his dark head was positively the last straw, bringing with it a bitter memory of the one and only time he had ever kissed her. The image sliced into the trance that held her still, shattering it with the realisation of the way she was tempting fate by not resisting.

‘And what would your fiancée think about that?’

She made her voice as cool and crisp as she could but was a prey to distinctly ambiguous feelings as she saw the effect her words had, freezing that downward movement instantly, Pierce’s eyes becoming suddenly hooded and withdrawn.

‘I understand that congratulations are in order.’

From the way his face changed she knew that she had had the effect that she wanted—or, rather, the result that she had aimed for. What she had wanted was very, very different, and only now, with the possibility—or did she mean the threat?—that he might kiss her clearly averted, did she realise just how much she had wanted that caress, wanted it so desperately that the ache of loss that tormented her now made her clench her fingers into tight fists, nails digging into the palms of her hands.

‘I’d forgotten how quickly the village gossip grapevine work.’

‘So it’s true.’

‘Yeah, it’s true.’ Pierce’s voice was strangely flat. ‘I proposed to Phillippa a couple of months ago and she said yes straight away.’

I’ll bet she did, Natalie thought, the taste of jealousy like bitter acid in her mouth. No woman with red blood in her veins would turn down Pierce Donellan, even if he didn’t come with the added attraction of a private fortune—one that he had personally doubled over the last ten years or so as a result of the brilliant business acumen that had made his computer software company a major force to be reckoned with.

‘So what are you doing here? Why aren’t you with her?’

Why had he strolled back into her life, destroying the sort of acceptance she had achieved?

‘A little tricky,’ Pierce murmured sardonically, ‘seeing as she’s off on holiday—a Mediterranean cruise.’

‘A cruise?’

It seemed a strange thing for a newly engaged woman to do. If Pierce had asked her to marry him, there was no way she would have left his side unless she absolutely had to.

‘It was all arranged before we got engaged. She’d promised to go with her cousin.’

Something about his voice, the total lack of expression in his face heightened Natalie’s conviction that something was wrong, that he hadn’t just come here on the off chance as he’d said.

‘Pierce—why have you come here tonight?’

Broad shoulders under the supple leather lifted in an indifferent shrug.

‘To see a friendly face—totalk.’

‘About what?’

The change in his eyes worried her.

‘Tell me,’ she insisted. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

For a long, taut moment he considered the question, the blue gaze strangely dull and unfocused. Then at last he seemed to come to a decision.

‘About Phillippa,’ he said, his voice harsh and raw.

‘About my fiancée—or, rather, ex-fiancée, seeing as she’s dumped me.’


CHAPTER TWO

‘SHE’S—?’

Natalie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had to have it all wrong—he must have said something else.

‘Phillippa—she—? But I don’t understand.’

‘My fiancée has dumped me—broken off our engagement. To put it bluntly, she no longer wants to marry me,’ Pierce explained with exaggerated patience.

‘Oh, not that! I understand what you’re saying—but why?’

How could anyone in their right mind, having once accepted Pierce’s proposal, be fool enough to change her mind?

‘She’s found someone else.’ The bitterness in the declaration made her wince painfully. ‘Someone she met on the cruise—she prefers him.’

‘Oh, Pierce...’

Impulsively Natalie took a step towards him, the instinct to comfort overwhelming, but she froze immediately, seeing the way he stiffened, his face closing up, warning her to stay away.

‘How about that coffee?’ he prompted.

‘Oh, yes.’

She was glad to move away, into the kitchen, grateful for the chance to hide the pain she knew must show in her eyes. There was no way she could conceal it; just for that second she didn’t have the strength to hold it back. The very matter-of-factness of his tone had told her only too plainly that he didn’t want her sympathy, her concern. If he had slapped her hard in the face he couldn’t have got the message across more clearly or more painfully. But she couldn’t just leave it...

She turned to see Pierce lounging in the doorway.

‘It must have hurt you.’ If she wanted an idea of how it had felt, she had only to think of the pain she had experienced on hearing that he was to marry. Knowing it must happen some time hadn’t made it any easier to bear.

‘My ego suffered one hell of a shock, that’s for sure.’ Pierce’s laughter was harsh, no trace of humour in it. ‘And my pride.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Natalie was filling the kettle as she spoke, concentrating fiercely on what she was doing. ‘I mean, it might help.’

‘No.’ The declaration was hard and unyielding, leaving no room for negotiation. ‘I don’t want to talk about Phillippa, or her reasoning, or my feelings—I’d much rather talk about you.’

‘Me?’ Natalie set the mug she was holding down on the worktop with a crash that revealed her sense of shock. ‘There’s nothing interesting about me.’

‘I beg to differ.’ Pierce settled himself at the table. ‘For one thing, you’re not at all as I remember—you’ve changed.’

‘Hardly surprising when you consider that it’s almost three years since you saw me. It’d be pretty strange if I hadn’t altered in some way in that time. I grew up, Pierce—I’m not a little girl any more.’

‘You’re certainly not,’ he agreed. ‘But there’s more to it than that.’

‘You mean I’m no longer the plain, scrawny teenager who used to hang around the Manor kitchens?’ And who had been foolish enough to let herself believe—dream—that the occasional word or glance he tossed her way meant more than a casual interest in the daughter of one of the family’s employees.

‘No one could describe you as plain any more—you’ve flowered. Though you do yourself no favours scraping your hair back into that appalling spinster’s bun.’

‘I am a spinster, Pierce.’

It was an effort to speak because it was only then, belatedly, that Natalie paused to consider the possible implications of Pierce’s blunt announcement for herself, common sense warning her to take things very carefully.

All those years ago, she would have given anything she possessed for just one word of approval, one compliment from him. Now, when he seemed prepared to give them out with a generous hand, she didn’t know how to deal with it, the question of just what his motives were for being here permanently at the back of her thoughts, setting her mind on edge. After all, he had said that he wanted to talk about his broken engagement, but had then dismissed the subject immediately.

‘Technically, I suppose you are, but I’m sure the term doesn’t really apply—not after three years at college.’

‘I’m an old-fashioned girl.’ Natalie could feel the colour rush into her cheeks as she spoke.

His snort of dismissive laughter was disturbing.

‘Not that old-fashioned, I’ll bet! You’re not trying to tell me you didn’t have a long line of suitors forming a queue outside your door?’

‘Hardly a line.’

‘There must have been someone. You’re not telling me that you spent three years at college and no one even asked you out. What were they all? Zombies?’

‘Nothing like that.’ Natalie’s laughter was close to being genuine, only a little exaggerated in order to ease the tension that still hung in the air. ‘But there was no one special.’

How could there have been, when the man she loved most in all the world was sitting opposite her right now, so close that all she had to do was reach out a hand and she could touch him, stroke his cheek, brush back the lock of silky black hair that had fallen over his forehead—?

Becoming aware of the way that Pierce was watching her, the disturbing intensity of that sapphire-blue gaze, she dragged herself back to reality with an effort.

‘But you’re not claiming that no one got a look-in?’.

‘If by “a look-in” you mean did any of them move in with me or vice versa, then no!’

Natalie stirred the coffee she had made with unnecessary force, before placing the mug on the table beside him, hoping that the jerky movement conveyed more indignation than the uneasy churning in the pit of her stomach she was actually feeling.

‘Why are you harping on about this? I told you I was an old-fashioned sort of girl.’

‘I’m not harping, just interested—and that’s not so much old-fashioned as positively puritanical.’ Pierce laughed. ‘Are you trying to claim that you were waiting for Mr Right to come along?’ He sounded frankly incredulous, a deeply sardonic amusement lacing his tone.

But what he had said was just a bit too close to the truth for comfort. Belatedly, Natalie realised that instead of damping down his curiosity she was in fact fanning its flames with her attempts to dodge his questions.

‘Oh, all right, there was one man—Gerry. We were—close all the time I was at college.’

Gerry wouldn’t mind his name being taken in vain. He had wanted to be more to her than a friend. In fact, they had shared several very pleasant evenings which, for his part, he might have thought would lead to greater things, but which to Natalie were simply that—enjoyable nights out with an attractive man as her escort. The lighthearted kisses she had given him had remained totally uninvolved, sparking off none of the disturbing sensations that Pierce’s lightest touch could arouse.

‘I thought there must have been—when do you see him?’

‘I don’t.’ It might have been safer to pretend to an ongoing, passionate relationship with Gerry, but she couldn’t do it. ‘When we left Sheffield he got a job in Edinburgh.’

‘And it’s not a case of absence making the heart grow fonder?’

‘More like out of sight, out of mind, though we do write occasionally.’

‘Very occasionally, from the sound of your voice,’ Pierce murmured. ‘Whatever your Gerry did, it certainly riled you.’

‘It’s not what he did—it’s what you’re doing.’

‘Me?’ Pierce froze, his mug half raised, his look of confusion so apparently uncontrived that Natalie could almost believe it was genuine.

‘Yes, you—you’re prying into my private life.’ The knowledge of how dangerously close he had come to the truth made her voice tart. ‘Asking too many questions.’

‘The privilege isn’t exclusive,’ Pierce returned, surprising her. ‘You can ask as well as answer. Oh, come on, Nat!’ he laughed when she looked distinctly sceptical. ‘This isn’t the girl I know and love! As I recall, the problem used to be shutting you up rather than getting you to talk.’

‘And I can ask anything?’ Natalie asked with only a tiny shake in her voice. Her peace of mind demanded that she try to ignore that ‘I know and love’, being only too well aware of just how cynically it was meant.

‘Anything within reason.’

‘Then why did you decide to get married?’

The question was so close to the surface of her mind that it burst from her before she had time to consider whether it was really wise, but at least she bad enough presence of mind to catch herself up in time and not add the name that would have revealed that what she really wanted to ask was ‘Why did you want to marry Phillippa?’

But she’d overstepped the mark this time; she knew it as she saw the way that his face closed up, his mouth hardening, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

‘It’s all right! I shouldn’t-’

‘You asked—I’ll answer. After all—’ Pierce’s laugh was a travesty of genuine humour, no warmth in it at all ‘—after what’s happened, it would probably be a good idea to have a look at my motives—see exactly how I got myself into this mess.’

If she had regretted the question moments before, then now she wished she had cut her tongue out—anything other than push him into this darkly cynical frame of mind which made her want to weep for the loss of the ease they had shared only a short time before.

‘I always wanted to get married—’

‘It looked that way!’ Natalie couldn’t help retorting, recalling the seemingly endless stream of girlfriends that had blighted her adolescence.

‘Oh, damn it, Nat! Don’t look so sceptical! What’s wrong with playing the field until you find the right person—the one you want to settle down with?’

‘Nothing,’ she was forced to mutter, incapable of injecting any enthusiasm into the word, being only too painfully aware of the fact that Pierce believed he had found ‘the right person’ in Phillippa. ‘But I don’t know about field—it was more like fields—acres of them,’ she added in an attempt to conceal her private pain.

‘But I never led anyone on, let them think it was serious when it was nothing of the sort. Every girl I ever dated knew exactly where she stood—that there was no commitment—just a lot of fun. They all had a good time, and so did I—you know how it is.’

Natalie managed an inarticulate murmur that she hoped he would take as agreement. She wished she did know how it was. She had tried dating for fun, both at school and, later, at college, and she had enjoyed the company of the men she’d gone out with—some more than others—but that was all, and in the end it had all been ultimately disappointing.

‘No?’ She hadn’t convinced him.

‘I have to admit that I find no-commitment relationships rather like just treading water—not going anywhere and so frustratingly unproductive. I’m afraid I’m an all or nothing sort of person.’

And Pierce was all she wanted, but she couldn’t have him and so would she have to settle for nothing?

‘You always were far too serious for your own good. It was never like that for me—until my father died.’

Pierce stared down into the coffee in his mug, a frown drawing his dark, straight brows together.

‘Then I came up hard against a terrible realisation of my own mortality—one that was enhanced by a strong sense of responsibility.’

‘Responsibility?’

‘Like my dad, I’d always wanted children, but suddenly that need was overlaid by the realisation that the Donellan line depended on me. The Manor has been in our family for centuries and I know Dad wanted it to continue that way—I want it too. I suppose that sounds positively feudal to you.’

‘Not really.’

Natalie chose her words with care, painfully aware of the flatness of his voice on that ‘I’d always wanted children’. He’d wanted a family and now, because of Phillippa’s decision, he would be denied that. He sounded as if he had lost sight of all his dreams.

‘I think I, more than most, can understand how you feel. After all, growing up without a father, never even knowing who he was, has always made me feel incomplete somehow—as if some important piece of my own personal jigsaw puzzle is missing, one that would help me see the complete picture.’

‘Your mother never said anything, even at the end?’

‘She wasn’t capable of saying anything,’ Natalie sighed, her eyes clouding at the painful memory of her mother’s last illness, three years before, while she had been in her final year at college. ‘At least, not coherently, though there was one point when she kept saying a name over and over—Hilton—I think it was that. I’ve let myself believe that it was my father’s surname, and that, at the end, she forgave him for abandoning her.’

Her voice had no strength to it, her thoughts swinging to the irony in the way that, while in full health her mother had been so determined to keep the two of them apart, her illness had in fact brought her and Pierce closer together, if only briefly.

Because if she hadn’t already fallen head over heels in love with Pierce, then she would have done so on that bleak March morning when he had arrived out of the blue with the appalling news of Nora Brennan’s collapse. If he hadn’t already had possession of it, she would have given him her heart as a result of the unfailing kindness and consideration he had shown her then and throughout the dark days that had followed. Certainly, it had been the time when her love had matured, becoming that of a woman instead of the girl Pierce had known.

‘It would mean so much to you?’

‘It would help me feel I know who I really am—if you know what I mean. If I could just know who my father was, even if he’s dead, at least then I’d have a name to put on my birth certificate instead of that empty space. It’d go a little way to make up for not having a real family. So, you see, I can appreciate how important your family name must be to you and that you’d want that line to continue. And, of course, I expect your mother would want grandchildren.’

‘My mother—’ Pierce’s face darkened, his mouth twisting in the firelight. ‘There’s going to be hell to pay there—she’s already bought a particularly spectacular hat in anticipation of the wedding that isn’t going to be.’

The wry humour didn’t convince; Natalie was still very much aware of the bitterness underneath.

‘She doesn’t know?’

‘No one knows except for Phillippa and myself—and now you.’

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Natalie put in hastily, and was surprised by his dismissive shrug.

‘People will have to know some time. It might as well be sooner rather than later.’

‘Your mother won’t be the only one who’ll be disappointed. Everyone in the village was looking forward to a summer wedding—’

‘Hell and damnation, Nat!’ Pierce’s furious roar was matched by a violent movement that brought him swiftly to his feet, so that he towered over her, the ominous threat of his dark scowl making her nerves twist in fearful apprehension. ‘My marriage wasn’t planned to please the bloody village!’

Too late, Natalie realised the tactlessness of her words. Pierce had always hated the almost possessive way in which the inhabitants of Ellerby regarded the Donellans. The family were still seen very much as the local nobility, their lives and activities commented on with almost as much interest as the royal family was nationally.

‘Of course not—I’m sorry, I didn’t think.’

Her shaken words seemed to pull him back from wherever his savage thoughts had taken him, leaving him looking troubled and, just for a moment, strangely confused. At last his eyes focused on her again, taking in the way she had shrunk back from him, her wide, dark eyes.

‘Oh, hell, Nat—I’m sorry.’ Roughly he raked both hands through his black hair, disturbing its shining sleekness. ‘I should never have come—never have inflicted myself on you like this. I’m not fit company for anyone.’

‘That’s hardly surprising in the circumstances.’ Natalie switched on a smile that she hoped looked genuine. ‘And you didn’t inflict yourself.’

‘Nevertheless, I ought to go.’

He was looking around him for his jacket and something about the way he moved, the angle at which he held his head alerted her, sounding warning bells in her thoughts.

‘Pierce...’

‘Mmm?’

The heavy lids hooding the over-bright eyes he turned confirmed her suspicions, as did a faint slowness in his reaction. It was tiny, almost imperceptible, and only someone as sensitive to everything about him as she was would have noticed it.

‘How much have you had to drink?’

‘Too much to remember clearly, but not enough to make me forget,’ he returned with a sudden harshness that she had to ignore as she moved to catch hold of his arm.

‘You had something before you came here, didn’t you? And then the sherry—Pierce, you shouldn’t have been driving in that state!’

‘My dear Natalie—my eminently sensible little friend—how very moral and controlled you are about everything.’

Those sapphire eyes danced in unholy amusement as Pierce lifted one hand and rested it lightly against her cheek. But a moment later his mood changed again, sobering abruptly as he shrugged off her protest.

‘I know I would have done better not to drive, but I wasn’t over the limit, and I had to talk to someone or go out of my mind.’

‘Yes—but all the same...’ Natalie struggled to ignore the warmth that had flooded through her veins at his touch, and the double-edged effect of that ‘little friend’. ‘You can’t drive any further tonight.’

‘I have to, sweetheart—unless you have some alternative to suggest.’

Sweetheart! If anything convinced her that he was not completely sober, it was that. Pierce had never called her anything even remotely so affectionate before. In the past he had labelled her only by the shortened form of her name, refusing to use its full version because ‘Natalie’s far too elegant for a little scrap like you’. Such uncharacteristic behaviour was more revealing than anything that had gone before.

There was only one possibility. ‘You’ll have to stay here.’

‘Here?’

Black eyebrows lifted in an exaggerated expression of amazement, and the gleam of wicked humour lit up those blue eyes once again.

‘That’s a highly improper suggestion, Miss Brennan.’ The sardonic mockery did nothing to hide the cutting edge to his words. ‘Whatever will the neighbours think?’

‘They needn’t know anything about it.’ Natalie refused to rise to his taunt. ‘After all, you said that you parked the car some distance away, and if you leave latish tomorrow when everyone’s gone to work—’ She broke off on a stab of pain as Pierce shook his head in adamant rejection.

‘I think not,’ he said curtly. ‘My coat—’

‘No, Pierce.’

Moving swiftly, she reached the jacket before him, snatching it up and holding it behind her back, out of his reach.

‘I won’t let you—you’re not fit to drive.’

‘Then I’ll walk.’ His tone was positively dangerous now, his eyes almost black with anger, resistance and denial of her arguments stamped into every line of his body. ‘I can’t be found drunk in charge of my feet!’

‘It’s pouring with rain! You’ll get soaked!’

‘I won’t melt. Natalie, I can’t stay—I can’t share your—’

‘You won’t have to share anything!’

Concentrating hard on getting him to listen to reason, she knew she shouldn’t pause to consider how his words made her feel. She couldn’t cope with the ambiguous feelings that assailed her at the thought that he actually believed she was offering him a place in her own bed, the realisation that this was the only possibility that had crossed his mind. In her thoughts she could hear her mother’s voice, cynical conviction in every word.

‘There’s only one thing a man like that wants from a girl like you, and I don’t have to tell you what that is.’

And of course she could have no doubt as to what was meant when she herself was the living proof of that ‘one thing’ a man might want, and even more evidence of the fact that when it became plain that that pleasure would result in consequences then the man responsible wouldn’t be seen for dust.

But her mother had been wrong about Pierce, as Natalie knew to her cost. He had made it plain that even when it was offered he had no interest at all in her body. So now, squashing down the pain that simply remembering brought, Natalie had no hesitation in pursuing her point determinedly.

‘This may not be the Manor House, but I do have a perfectly adequate spare bedroom.’

‘All the same—’

He made a move towards the door, but Natalie was there before him, slamming it shut and putting her back against it so that he would have to move her physically out of the way if he was really determined to leave.

‘Natalie—’

‘No argument, Pierce!’

She had to struggle to ignore the warning implicit in his use of her full name, refusing to let herself consider the fact that his determination to leave was motivated by much more than a simple concern for her reputation. Allowing herself the thought that he simply didn’t want to stay with her would weaken her too much and she couldn’t give in now.

‘I couldn’t have it on my conscience if I let you go and you hurt yourself or someone—’

‘For God’s sake, woman!’

As hard fingers closed over her arms, digging fiercely into the soft flesh, she knew with a terrible sinking sense of despair that if he did decide to move her she would be unable to resist, even her determination appearing pathetically puny when compared with his muscular strength.

And in the same moment she suddenly, shockingly, but far, far too late, knew a dreadful creeping fear at the thought of the force of the anger she had awoken in Pierce, the power she had unthinkingly released and might be totally incapable of stopping. She had always known that Pierce Donellan was a formidable force to be reckoned with, both at home and in the business world. The respect his estate workers had for him, his almost legendary reputation as a big fish in a very big pool were well known, but never before had she had that forcefulness turned on her personally, and, faced with the storm power of it, she needed all her courage in order to hold her ground.

‘I can’t let you do this!’

For a frightening second his grip tightened bruisingly, and she swallowed hard, nerving herself for the inevitable. Surprisingly, it didn’t come. Instead, Pierce looked deep into her eyes, seeing the determination in their coffee-coloured depths—the defiance—the fear.

‘Oh, hell!’ he muttered harshly, releasing her with such abruptness that she stumbled backwards and would actually have fallen if it hadn’t been for the support of the door behind her. ‘All right, if it’ll get you off my back—you win! Which room?’

‘Top of the stairs, first right—bathroom’s just next door.’

Natalie could feel no pleasure in her victory. Did he have to make it so obvious that staying was the last thing he wanted? she asked herself as Pierce, after the curtest of goodnights, made his way upstairs. She had got what she wanted, but at the cost of a painful blow to her heart.

She would give him time to use the bathroom and get into bed, she told herself, determinedly turning her attention to washing up, and refusing to let her mind drift because it showed an alarming tendency to wander off on to disturbing thoughts of Pierce undressing in the soft blue and white bedroom, of his strong, lean body sliding between the sheets...

‘Put the milk bottle out—lock the door—bolt it—fireguard—switch off the lights...’ she muttered to herself in order to provide a distraction from the wayward path her thoughts were taking. Was twenty minutes long enough?

It would have to be. It was coming up to midnight; she was worn out, and she had to be up before seven in the morning.

Not that she had any real hope of sleeping, she told herself as, dressed in a short denim-blue cotton nightdress, she brushed her teeth before taking herself off to bed. The thought of Pierce in the room directly opposite her own was more than enough to keep her wide awake. She would be able to hear every creak of the elderly bed, any slight movement he made.

stop it!

Ruthlessly she splashed her face with cold water, praying that it would cool her heated thoughts, lower the heightened temperature that was the result of her crazily racing pulse. It was as she dried herself that she realised she hadn’t provided clean towels for Pierce. She had been so knocked back by his unexpected capitulation that she hadn’t even thought about it. He would need them in the morning.

She would just drop them in on her way back to her room. He was probably already fast asleep anyway, the wine he had drunk having taken effect, but when, finding his door ajar, she put her head round it, she was surprised to see that the bedside lamp was still on, throwing a pool of warm light onto the dark head that lay on the crisp white pillows.

But Pierce’s eyes were closed, she noted with a sense of relief, his long black lashes lying like crescents just above the strong cheekbones, the dark regrowth of his beard already shadowing the hard line of his jaw. She’d just leave the towels and go, she told herself, moving on tiptoe so as not to disturb him.

It was as she reached for the switch to turn off the lamp that those heavy lashes lifted slowly and she froze, staring straight into slightly unfocused, sleep-clouded sapphire-blue eyes.

‘Natalie...’ Her name was a weary sigh rather than a sound of welcome, stilling the tentative smile on her lips. ‘What the hell do you want now?’

‘I just brought some towels—I forgot to give them to you earlier.’ Pain made her voice tight and cold, her gesture jerky as she indicated the small bundle at the foot of the bed. ‘I thought you’d probably want a shower in the morning.’

‘Thanks.’

She was dismissed, his indifferent tone said. His eyes were closing again, deliberately, she thought, communicating only too clearly the message that she was not wanted.

“All right, then, I’ll leave you in peace.’

‘Please do.’

Those two words burned like bitter acid in her heart.

‘Well... goodnight.’

She couldn’t help herself; a shadow of her distress tinged her words in spite of the effort she made to hold it back, and, as he heard it, Pierce’s eyes flew open again.

‘Nat...’ His voice was low and strangely rough at the edges. ‘Thanks for everything.’

There was a subtle, indefinable change in his face, one she couldn’t even begin to interpret, and suddenly he lifted himself up on the pillows, holding out a hand to her.

‘I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been at home.’

‘I’m glad I was here for you.’

She tried to sound brisk and matter-of-fact, fighting against the recollection of just why he was here in the first place—because of the hurt that another woman had inflicted on him. But, try as she might, she wasn’t strong enough to resist the appeal of that outstretched hand, the new softness in his eyes.

Her heart jerked violently in her chest as she perched awkwardly on the side of the bed, taking the warm strength of his fingers in hers.

‘After all, isn’t that what friends are for?’ She let her hand linger in his for a moment longer, then forced herself to make a move to get up. ‘Now you must get some sleep—I need some if you don’t; I have—’

‘Nat,’ Pierce interrupted suddenly, his voice touched with a rawly urgent note that stilled her, holding her unable to move. ‘Don’t go—I don’t want to be alone—not tonight.’

‘But...’ Looking into his eyes, she saw how they had darkened, only the tiniest trace of blue edging the blackness of the pupils. ‘Pierce—’

‘Please.’

It was frightening how easily she found herself considering it, appalling how little hesitation there was before she accepted the idea. It was downright impossible to say no, even though stern reason warned her not to consider the idea even for a second, but to get out now.

‘I don’t have any ulterior motives.’ Slight as it had been, Pierce had caught her hesitation and hurried to reassure her. ‘For one thing, I’m half asleep already—I was dead on my feet downstairs—and I’ve really had far too much to drink to be considered a threat to any woman. And besides, we’re friends...’

If only he knew how much she had come to hate that word, particularly now, when the description seemed so very far from flattering. It was more than he had ever offered her before, but a million miles from what she wanted. As his friend, she had no physical appeal for him. The cold rationality of that thought pushed her into a belated attempt to assert some sort of control over things.

‘I don’t think it would be—’

‘Please.’

It came so softly that she might have missed it if she hadn’t been so sensitive to everything about him, but she did catch it and it tugged at her already vulnerable heart. It would have taken a far stronger will than she possessed to resist that low-voiced appeal, and besides, he was already drifting away into exhausted sleep, heavy lids closing, his breathing slowing.

Looking at him now, with those brilliant eyes hidden from her, his face relaxing from the taut, strained lines that had drawn the skin tight over his forceful bone structure, she could see the younger Pierce in him again.

‘I need a hand to hold...’

‘What?’ She couldn’t believe she had heard right, the words slurred with sleep. Or, if she had, did it mean as much to him as it did to her?

‘A hand to hold...’

Natalie bit down hard on her lower lip as the intervening years were stripped away and she was once more a skinny adolescent, physically a late developer and desperately, painfully self-conscious, particularly when Pierce Donellan was around.

He hadn’t noticed her at first, of course. When her mother had started work at the Manor, she had been a mere eleven, and Pierce a lordly twenty-year-old. He had barely spared her a glance then, or at any point over the next couple of years, but then fate had stepped in in a dramatic way, throwing her quite literally at his feet.

She had been on her way home from school, returning late after staying for choir practice, and already the gathering dusk had been closing in around her, the conditions worsened by a miserable, persistent drizzle. It had been as she was crossing the road to the bus-stop that a motor cyclist, travelling far too fast, had come roaring round the corner, slamming into her and sending her flying. For a moment she had lost consciousness, coming round a short time later to find herself lying on the pavement supported by strong, comforting arms and with a pair of deeply concerned blue eyes looking down into hers.

She’d thought she’d died and gone to heaven, she recalled now, a soft smile curving her lips at the memory of the way Pierce, who had been taking that route home when he had seen the accident, had despatched someone to collect her mother while he stayed with her, travelling to the hospital in the ambulance when it came. He had held her hand, soothed away her fear with gentle words, and hadn’t even noticed the way her badly grazed arm had dripped blood all over his expensive suit.

She’d lost her heart to him then, and in the weeks that followed, when, knowing that a fractured ankle meant that she was confined to her room in the housekeeper’s quarters at the Manor, he had been a frequent visitor, bringing books and games to keep her amused, tasty treats to tempt her appetite. She had lost her heart completely and had never, ever been able to get it back.

It had been then that, unable to thank him properly, but wanting to convey her gratitude as well as she could, she had poured out the ardent, if naive, declaration of feeling that Pierce’s words had brought so vividly to mind.

‘If ever you need me—for anything—you only have to ask,’ she had said, not pausing to ask herself what an unsophisticated, barely fourteen-year-old could possibly offer to a grown man almost a decade older. ‘If you need someone—a hand to hold as you held mine—I’ll be there.’

But then, of course, what she had felt for Pierce had been simple hero-worship, the blind, unquestioning devotion of innocence, uncomplicated by the sort of considerations that had come with maturity and a greater understanding of the complexities of relationships between men and women. With young adulthood had come a realisation of exactly what her mother feared, and a new sense of awareness—the sort of awareness that now kept her frozen on the edge of the bed, unable to move one way or the other.

‘Nat?’ Pierce forced open sleep-blurred eyes, their jewel brightness softened to the gentleness of a spring morning sky. ‘I just need someone...’

Letting her breath escape on a soundless sigh, Natalie admitted to herself that there was no way she could hold out any longer. If all he wanted from her was the sort of uncomplicated friendship he had offered all those years before, then that was what she would give him.

Besides, she knew that she was incapable of resisting the temptation to finally be able to be closer to him, physically at least, than she had ever been before, to hold him against her, just this once, offering what comfort she could until he fell asleep and was too deeply unconscious to be aware of her slipping from his side and returning to her own bed.

Just this once, she told herself as she lifted the corner of the blankets and slid in beside him. What harm could it do?


CHAPTER THREE

FROM the first second, Natalie knew she had made a terrible mistake.

She had promised herself that she would simply wait until Pierce was deeply asleep, and then she would go, but in the moment that she felt the warm length of his strong body against hers it was as if the heat of his skin had seeped into every cell in her body, softening bone and muscle and draining her of any strength, any ability to move.

Each time her mind told her that she should go, that Pierce was oblivious to her presence, that there was no way he would notice if she left, she found that her limbs had no strength to move, that they were weighed down by a sensual lassitude that had nothing to do with any concern about disturbing the man at her side.

Just one more minute, she told herself, glorying in the soft warmth of his breath on her neck, the slide of the black silk of his hair against her cheek. One of her arms lay around his shoulders, tinglingly aware of the power of the muscles under the satin skin, the rough texture of the dark, curling hair on his chest, and it was all that she could do to stop her fingers from wandering further, exploring the lean strength so close to her, the long legs touching her own.

Just one more minute; that was all she wanted. One more minute to lie like this, drawing in the musky male scent of his body, hearing the faint sound of his breathing, feeling the way his chest rose and fell. This might be all she would ever have of him, all she would ever know of the physical pleasure of being close. It was probably her one and only chance ever to hold him, and the memories she was storing up tonight would have to last her for the rest of her life.

Just one more minute...

She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, knew nothing more until, some time in the dark stillness of the night, she stirred at last, surfacing slowly to become conscious of some restriction to her movement, instinctively tensing against it, straining to be free, then freezing again as the warm restraint tightened, holding her still.

‘No,’ said a voice in her ear, the lazy drawl having an unyielding edge to it that sent a shiver of apprehension running down her spine. ‘Stay right where you are.’

Pierce’s voice, and Pierce’s arms were holding her captive.

‘But—’ Her throat was dry, making her voice weak and croaking.

‘Shh.’

It shivered across her skin, making her twist in uncontrollable response, a small cry of shock escaping her as the unwary movement brought her slender legs into intimate contact with the hair-roughened length of his. The next moment, that cry was cut short by the soft pressure of Pierce’s mouth on hers in a swift, gentle caress that made all her senses spring to life, knotting her nerves with the immediate intensity of her response.

‘This is nice—very nice indeed.’

In the dim light, Natalie could see that Pierce’s eyes were barely open, and the dreamy, unfocused sound of his voice made her heart skip a beat at the thought that perhaps he wasn’t really awake, that possibly he was still tangled in dreams, thinking she was someone else—and there was only one person that could be.

She didn’t know what would happen, what, if anything, might result from the situation in which she now found herself, but she was sure of one thing. She couldn’t bear to be mistaken for the fiancée Pierce had loved and lost; it would tear her heart into pieces.

‘Pierce...’

What little there was of her voice died in her throat as his hands moved over her, stroking, moulding the shape of her body under the soft cotton of her nightdress, lingering heart-stoppingly at her breasts and hips.

‘You never used to feel like this before.’ His voice was still blurred and thick.

‘That was because we never used to do this sort of thing.’

‘How very foolish,’ Pierce murmured. ‘Foolish—and very wasteful.’

‘Pierce...’ Natalie tried again.

‘We should have, you know.’ His lips were on hers, the words whispered against the softness of her mouth. ‘Should have done this a long time ago. We’ve wasted an appalling amount of time, you and I.’

Trying to control her reactions didn’t work. Already her wayward body was responding, opening to him like a flower to the sun. As she moved against him, she felt the force of his desire pressing into the softness of her stomach, triggering a heated reaction deep inside her.

She was weakening—no, not weakening—she had never had the strength to resist Pierce from the start. This was why she had always kept her distance physically—because she had known from the outset, from the moment that that searing sexual awareness had burned away her innocent hao-worship, replacing it with something much more complex and dangerous, that if he was ever to touch her it would be like this. She had known she would never be able to fight him—and she couldn’t now—but she couldn’t have any doubts—she had to know for certain.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Never been surer,’ that husky voice assured her. ‘We wasted a lot of time in the past, but not now...’

Warm lips slid up the pale length of her throat, across her cheek, capturing her mouth again in the same moment that his caressing hands reached the hem of the blue nightdress, easing it upwards, his fingers burning a scorching path to the aching sensitivity of her breasts. When he moulded them softly, the heat of his palms against her skin made her writhe in unrestrained delight.

‘You used to be such a little girl—but now you’re all woman.’

Natalie drew in her breath in sharp delight, her back arching in immediate response as the soft warmth of his hands closed over her sensitised flesh, sending shafts of pleasure through her whole body, heating the blood in her veins.

‘The sort of woman any man would want...’ The words were punctuated by tiny, sharply teasing bites that made her lower body jerk in instinctive response. ‘And here you are—with me...’

‘Pierce...’

She wasn’t even aware of whether she had actually formed his name as a coherent sound, knowing only that she was sinking deeper and deeper, hot waters of desire closing over her head, very definitely going down for the third time—and yet she had to know.

‘Pierce—’

‘Hush, Natalie,’ that soft voice soothed, and at the sound of her own name every nerve in her body clenched on a wave of pure joy.

He knew. Pierce had spoken her name so that she could be in no doubt that he knew very clearly just who she was. She needed no further convincing that it was her—Natalie—and not Phillippa he was making love to. She knew it, and, more importantly, Pierce knew it too, the thought bringing such a rush of happiness that only physical action could express it.

And so, acting on instincts she hadn’t known she possessed, instincts that must have been inherent in her as a woman, handed down from the dawn of time, from Eve herself, because she certainly had no experience on which to base them, she reached for Pierce, linking her hands in the soft hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his head down towards hers so that their mouths met.

The explosion of need deep within her was instantaneous, softening her lips under his, opening them to the thrust of his tongue, bringing her body close to his like a needle drawn irresistibly to a magnet, the feel of the hard muscle, the roughness of hair strangely alien and yet somehow so perfectly right that she sighed against his mouth—a small, satisfied sound.

It was as if an electrical storm was brewing, charging the atmosphere with powerful currents, striking sparks from Pierce’s hands where he touched, from his mouth where it pressed against her skin. She was adrift, unable to think, knowing only that this was what she had wanted for so long, and she couldn’t believe it was real.

‘Don’t be shy, Natalie.’ Pierce’s voice was husky in her ear. ‘Relax, darling—touch me.’

‘Touch me’! She felt as if she had been given the key that would unlock the chains that held her, binding her to the earth. To have the freedom to touch him, caress him, kiss him, was all she had ever wanted, and now he had given it to her, not even knowing how much it meant. She felt as if she was soaring, floating high up into a golden sky where the heat of the sun warmed her blood, driving away all caution, all restraint.

‘Like this?’

Her fingers gloried in the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, the power of hard muscle underneath. She let them wander where they wanted, down the long back, over the narrow hips, smiling secretly to herself as he jerked convulsively under her touch.

‘Yes, like that- Oh, yes! But- Oh, God, Nat!’

Hard fingers gripped her shoulders, pulling her underneath him, his breathing ragged and uneven, and she felt a faint whisper of fear across her skin, just for a second. But then he kissed her again, muttering her name against her lips, and all tension vanished. This was Pierce—the man she had loved for so long. And this was what she had wanted—for ever, it seemed.

But however much she wanted it there was still the sharp stab of pain that clenched her muscles involuntarily against the hard force of his invasion, her tension and the small cry she couldn’t hold back stilling him at once to stare down at her shadowed face.

‘Natalie,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Nat...?’

‘No!’ She was suddenly fearful that he would stop, that, recognising her inexperience, he would no longer want her as he had just moments before. ‘Don’t stop.’

‘But Nat-’

‘I said, don’t stop!’

Instinct came to her aid, relaxing the muscles that had tightened, making her move slightly under him, awkwardly at first, but then more sensually, more confidently, as an inner, intuitive rhythm took control.

‘Natalie—’

Her name was a shaken cry, choked off as she kissed the protest from his lips, stroking her hands across his skin, down over the powerful ribcage, sliding them round the narrow waist, slipping lower...

‘Nat—sweetheart—don’t—I can‘t—’

The husky desperation in Pierce’s voice went straight to her head like a glass of the most potent spirit, combining with the soft tug of his mouth at her breast to send her soaring into a world of delight such as she had never known before. She had never felt so free, so sure—so alive. Every move was made without thinking, every caress a delight, and somewhere ahead, like the light at the end of a tunnel, was something...

She was reaching—reaching for it—when suddenly, far sooner than she had anticipated, and well before she was emotionally ready, she felt the world explode around her in a shower of stars. A moment later Pierce gave a sharp cry, his whole body tightened and he crushed her hard against him, his arms like bands of steel, until, slowly, he subsided against her, his breathing ragged and uneven.

Coming back to reality slowly and painfully, Natalie was only aware of one thought in her mind, like a nagging ache through the glow of fulfilment.

It was over. That brief moment of delight was all she would ever know of Pierce’s love. No—not his love, because for him it had only been a way of holding back the darkness, filling the emptiness for a short time. But for her it had been the magic of giving herself to the man who had held her heart in his hands for so many years, and now, too soon—far, far too soon—it was over. In spite of herself, she couldn’t hold back a faint sigh of regret, tears burning her eyes.

‘Oh, God, Nat—I’m sorry.’ To her distress, Pierce had caught the slight sound.

‘No.’ She closed his mouth with her fingers. ‘Pierce—please!’

She didn’t want him to talk; didn’t want any recriminations, any post-mortems.

‘Damn it, this wasn’t how I meant it to be,’ he muttered against her hand, but even through the anger she could hear how exhaustion was blurring his voice again, the stress of the day, the long journey, and the effects of the wine he had drunk, claiming him again even though he was trying so hard to fight them.

‘I know.’

Once more, instinct came to her aid, driving her to lift her hands to his hair, smoothing, stroking gently, feeling the tension in the powerful body ease slowly, like the tide ebbing away from the shore.

‘I know—but it doesn’t matter. It’s not important.’

What mattered—all that really mattered to her—was that just this once, for one brief moment at least, he had wanted her, and no one else, and, knowing that, how could she ever say that what had happened had been wrong in any way, or ever regret it?

Beside her, Pierce sighed deeply, losing the battle to keep his heavy lids from closing, his muscled frame relaxing as he slid into sleep, and a small, sad smile curled her lips. He had wanted her, but not enough. Enough for tonight, perhaps, but not for the lifetime commitment she dreamed of.

‘Next time...’

The words were just a breath, long-drawn-out and barely audible, oblivion claiming Pierce even as he tried to form them.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kate-walker/the-unexpected-child/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.