And Tara stared at him dumbly, in horror and in shock.
CHAPTER NINE
‘YOUR MOTHER BOUGHT YOU?’ Tara demanded, eventually getting her voice back. ‘She actually paid money for you?’
‘She did.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I guess the illegal trade in selling babies has always gone on and back then it was pretty unregulated. She found someone who was willing to part with their infant child—for the right price, of course.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ she breathed.
But Lucas seemed to barely hear her. It was as if having bottled it up—that he could do nothing to now stop the words spilling bitterly from his mouth.
‘A child’s memory only kicks in fragmentally,’ he continued harshly. ‘But I gradually became aware of the fact that he seemed to resent me from the get-go and then to hate me—only I could never understand why. It couldn’t have helped that he obviously felt trapped in a marriage to a woman he clearly didn’t love—only he loved her fortune too much to ever walk away.’ But that hadn’t lessened the tension, had it? His mother sobbing and kneeling on the floor in front of her younger husband, begging him not to leave her. And Diego gloating like a boastful schoolboy about the lipstick she’d found on his collar. Lucas snapped out of his painful reverie to find Tara staring at him, her eyes like two amber jewels in her pale face.
‘What...happened?’ she whispered.
He shrugged. ‘They sent me away to boarding school in Europe to get me out of the way. And when I came home for the holidays...’ he paused and maybe admitting this was the hardest part of all, harder even than the sharp blows to his kidneys ‘...he used to beat me up,’ he finished, on a rush.
‘But, surely he couldn’t get away with something like that?’
‘Oh, he was very careful. And clever, too. He only used to mark me where it wouldn’t show.’ He heard her sharp intake of breath and she opened her lips as if to say something, but he carried on—wanting to excise the dark poison which had lived inside him for so long. ‘The summer I realised I could hurt him back was the last summer I ever came here and that’s when I broke all ties with them.’
‘But what about your mother?’ she breathed. ‘Do you think she was aware that Diego was cruel to you?’
He gave a cynical laugh as he gazed at her with weary eyes. ‘Do you really think it’s possible for a woman not to know when a child is being beaten within the home, even in a house as big and cold and dysfunctional as ours?’
‘Oh, Lucas.’ Her bottom lip had grown pinker from where she’d been worrying it with her teeth and he saw the genuine consternation on her face. ‘That’s terrible. I can’t—’
‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted your sympathy, Tara.’ Ruthlessly, he cut across her faltered words. ‘I told you because you asked and because you of all people now have a right to know. Maybe now you can understand why I started a new life for myself and left the old one far behind. When my mother died my father was such a gambler it wasn’t long before there was no money left to pay for my schooling in Switzerland, so at sixteen I got myself a job as a bellhop in a fancy Swiss hotel—’
‘So that bit was true,’ she interrupted wonderingly before offering an explanation to the frowning question in his eyes. ‘There were rumours swirling around Dublin that you’d been a bellhop but I couldn’t ever imagine you doing a job like that.’
For the first time, he smiled—and the rare flash of humour on his troubled face made Tara’s heart turn over with an emotion she didn’t dare analyse.
‘You’d be surprised at what a comprehensive education it was,’ he said. ‘I watched and learned from all the customers who’d made money and a couple of them gave me advice on how to make it big. When I got to Ireland I changed my name and that changed everything. I worked hard and saved even harder and I had a little luck sprinkled over me on the way.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Though maybe I deserved a little luck by then.’
But Tara didn’t seem interested in the details about how he’d made his fortune. Instead she was frowning with intensity, as she did when she was trying to work something out, often a new recipe.
‘I guess you did.’ She hesitated. ‘But going back to the letter.’
‘I thought we’d moved on from the letter.’
Seemingly undaunted, she continued. ‘Was there any information about your birth mother in it?’
‘I know her name.’
‘And have you...have you followed it up?’
‘What do you think?’ he snapped.
‘Don’t you think you might? I mean, you might have...’ She shrugged. ‘Well, you might have other relatives who—’
‘I’m not interested in relatives,’ he said coldly. ‘I’ve had it with family. Surely you can understand why? And I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
He stared at her almost resentfully, wanting to blame her for having unburdened himself like this, but the hard stir of his groin was making him think about something other than the past. The flood of desire was a welcome antidote to the pain which had resulted from his confession and had left him feeling as if someone had blasted him with an emotional blowtorch. And now he was empty and hurting inside. Did she sense that? Could she detect the hunger in his body which was demanding release? Was that why she walked over to where he was standing and wordlessly hooked her arms around his neck, pressing her face against his cheek and planting there a kiss so soft that it made his heart turn over with something nameless and unfamiliar? Something underpinned with danger, despite all its dark deliciousness.
He wanted to push her away and compose himself but his need for her was stronger than his need for equilibrium and he pulled her into his arms and held her close. His heart pounded. So close. The faint scent of her sex was already redolent in the air and something inside him melted as instantly as ice hitting hot water. Their gazes clashed for the nanosecond it took before their lips fused and they shared the most passionate kiss he could ever remember. And when there was no breath left in his lungs, he reluctantly drew his head away, his eyes silently asking her a question and she answered it with a silent nod. This time she didn’t call a halt to what was happening as he laced his fingers in hers. Instead, she let him lead her to the master bedroom, where he pulled the navy-blue ribbon from her hair and all those unruly waves tumbled around her shoulders with fiery profusion.
‘Lucas?’ she said, and he heard the uncertainty in her voice—as if wanting him to define what was happening. But he couldn’t. Or rather, he wouldn’t. He would never lie about his feelings for her. This didn’t go deep. It was one level only. Simple physical need.
‘I want you,’ he said, very deliberately. ‘That’s all.’
Tara sucked in a ragged breath, wondering if it could be enough. But it had to be enough, because nothing else was on offer. And surely she could be grown up enough to admit that she wanted him—unconditionally. Surely she wasn’t demanding words of love or commitment in order to enjoy sex with the father of her baby. Her mouth dried. Some people might say they’d already made progress in their relationship because he’d confided in her—something which had never happened before. He’d told her the awful truth about his upbringing—which made even her own seem less bad. Should she have filled him in on some of her own, awful personal history? She thought not. Not then and certainly not now when he seemed to need her very badly, and all she wanted was to bring a little comfort and joy into his life. Hers, too. Was that so wrong?
‘I want you, too,’ she said shakily.
‘But before we go any further, there’s one thing we need to get straight, which is that I’m not offering undying love, or certain commitment. I can’t put my hand on my heart and promise to be with you for the rest of my life, Tara,’ he emphasised harshly. ‘Because that’s not what I do. You know that.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t care.’
She could
see his throat constrict as he undid the buttons of her uniform before quickly dispensing with the T-shirt and jeans beneath. And when he began to tug impatiently at his silk shirt, she found herself fantasising about what their baby might look like when it was born. Would it be a boy? she wondered yearningly as he lifted her up and laid her down on the bed. A boy who would grow up to be like his father—charismatic and powerful but with a dark side which was hiding so much pain? Or would it be a redheaded little girl, destined to be swamped by her own insecurities?
But her questions were forgotten as his naked body was revealed to her—all honed muscle and soft shadow and the subtle gleam of olive skin. His limbs were hair-roughened and his desire was achingly obvious and she should have been daunted but she wasn’t. She stared at him with longing as the bed dipped beneath his weight and when he took her in his arms again, his skin felt deliciously warm against hers. Was it the conversation they’d just had which suddenly made Tara feel less of a conquest and more of an equal? Which gave her the courage to explore his body in a way she would never have dared do before? Tentatively at first but with growing assurance, she stroked his skin, her fingertips running over washboard abs, down over the flat hardness of his stomach, to whisper shyly at the dark brush of hair beyond.
‘Tara?’ he said softly.
‘What?’
‘Don’t keep doing that.’
‘You don’t like it?’
‘I like it too much,’ he growled.
‘What...what shall I do instead?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘Part your thighs for me.’
She lifted her head as she did exactly that, their gazes clashing as, very deliberately, he slipped his hand between her legs and began to finger the creamy-moist folds with a light touch which sent a wild shudder through her body.
‘L-Lucas,’ she breathed.
‘Shh... Don’t say a word. Just feel it. Feel what I’m doing to you. It’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Y-yes. It’s very good.’
With delicate precision he strummed her where she was wet and aching, until she was writhing helplessly on the mattress and making unintelligible little gasps. Sensation speared at her with each feather-light touch as he propelled her towards some starry summit, so that she felt like an unexploded firework which was hurtling though the sky. And when the eruption came, he entered her at the same moment—so she could feel herself still clenching around his hardness as their bodies were intimately joined. It felt exquisitely erotic and unexpectedly emotional and as she looked up into the dark mask of his beautiful face, she touched her fingertips to his cheek.
‘Lucas,’ she said shakily, trying to bite back the soft words of affection which were hovering on her lips.
He stilled as he searched her face. ‘It doesn’t hurt?’
‘No. It’s...it’s gorgeous.’
‘I’ve never done it without protection before,’ he husked. ‘Never.’
She couldn’t respond to his appreciative murmur because her eager body was short-circuiting her addled brain, making rational thought impossible as a second orgasm swept her up on a breathless wave. In fact there was no time to address his question until afterwards, when he had choked out his own pleasure and she could feel the sticky trickle of his seed running down her thigh in a way which felt deliciously intimate. Her heart was pounding and her skin was suffused with satisfied heat, but she forced herself to turn over to face the Manhattan skyline outside the window as she tried to get her muddled thoughts into some kind of order.
Because she could sense she was on the brink of something risky. Something which needed to be reined in and controlled. Yes, they’d just had the most amazing sex but in the middle of it hadn’t Lucas gloated about never having had unprotected sex before while she’d been getting all emotional about him? And that was the fundamental difference between them. He required sex and nothing more and so she needed to be vigilant about her emotions. To make sure she didn’t get sucked into a bubble of love and longing which would burst at the slightest provocation.
‘Tara,’ he said softly.
His finger was tracing a delicate path between her buttocks and she felt herself quiver in response. ‘What?’ she questioned, as casually as possible.
‘I suspect what we’ve just done has made you change your mind about us being lovers.’
His assurance was as unshakable as his arrogance and she wanted to tell him that, no, she hadn’t changed her mind at all. She wanted to declare that this had been another impetuous mistake which mustn’t be repeated. But she couldn’t keep running away from the consequences of her actions, could she? She couldn’t keep letting sex ‘happen’ and then act like a scared little girl afterwards.
What she wanted was impossible. Like most people she wanted what she’d never had—in her case a secure home and a child raised within a loving family—despite all her proud protestations to the contrary. Lucas had offered none of these things and, having heard about his own childhood, she could understand why. It didn’t matter that his parents hadn’t been his birth parents—what mattered was that they had lied and been cruel to him. His whole upbringing had been built on a web of deceit and had destroyed his trust in other people. No wonder he was such a commitment-phobe who had never wanted marriage. No wonder he sometimes seemed to view women as the enemy, because to him they were. His birth mother had sold him and his adopted mother had lied to him and condoned her husband’s violence towards him.
But he’d offered to support her and the baby, hadn’t he? He hadn’t said he wanted to be hands-on, but surely that was a start—a single block on which to build. She didn’t know what the future held—nobody did—but there was no reason why they couldn’t have a grown-up relationship within certain boundaries. Just so long as she didn’t start weaving unattainable fantasises—and maybe for that reason alone, she needed to maintain an element of independence.
So she turned over and touched her fingertip to his face, tracing it slowly along the outline of his sensual lips. ‘Yes, I’ll be your lover,’ she said. ‘But I’m not going to give up my role as housekeeper.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘Not at all. I need to work and that’s my job. Otherwise, what am I going to do all day while you wheel and deal—go out to lunch and have my nails painted?’ Her smile was serene as she met his disbelieving expression and she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t enjoyed that small moment of triumph. ‘I’ve never had any desire to be a kept woman, Lucas, and I don’t intend to start now.’
CHAPTER TEN
SUNLIGHT CAME STREAMING in through the huge windows, bathing Tara’s body with a delicious glow, though the only thing she was really aware of was Lucas’s hand, which was splayed proprietorially over one breast, while the other was tucked possessively around her waist. But possessive was a misnomer and any sense she belonged to him was simply an illusion, she reminded herself fiercely. The touchy-feely-couldn’t-seem-to-keep-his-hands-off-her side of his character was just another feature of the fantastic sex they’d recently enjoyed. A physical reaction, that was all.
He was lazily stroking her nipple so that it was proud and aching, even though she had just gasped out one of the shuddering orgasms which had become so much a part of her daily life. Yet the crazy thing was that the man beside her felt as much of a stranger as he’d ever done—despite having told her about his childhood and despite having just been deep inside her body. Had she hoped that physical intimacy would automatically morph into mental intimacy? That the bond between them would grow stronger—maybe even unbreakable—the longer they spent together wrapped in each other’s arms like this?
Yes, she had. Guilty on all counts. But what did she know about such matters when he was her first and only lover? Her mentor, too. In the most delicious way possible, he had tutored her in every aspect of sex. He’d taught her how to uninhibitedly enjo
y her body and not to be shy about expressing her needs, but none of that seemed to have impacted on their relationship. Despite the physical closeness of sharing their bed each night and the often teasing banter they enjoyed much as before, nothing fundamental had changed within their relationship. Emotionally, at least, he was as detached as he had ever been.
Was that because, in spite of his obvious disapproval, she’d insisted in maintaining her role as his housekeeper—thus reinforcing the boss/employee dynamic which had always existed between them? She didn’t think so. What else was she going to do all day if she wasn’t cooking and cleaning—lie around in some cliché of a negligee waiting for Lucas to return from one of his business meetings? She would go out of her mind with boredom if she did that. Anyway, she didn’t have a negligee—cliched or otherwise—because somehow she still hadn’t got around to the shopping trip Lucas had suggested she take to avoid looking like ‘a screwball’.
‘Are you awake?’ His murmured voice was soft against her hair.
Her thoughts still full of fundamental insecurities, Tara nodded. ‘Mmm...’
The bedclothes rustled as he shifted, turning her round to face him so that their eyes were level and Tara prayed her face didn’t give away her feelings. Feelings she was trying desperately hard to hide, because she knew Lucas was no stranger to the emotion she and countless women before her had experienced...
She was falling for him. Falling deep and falling hard.
She was scared to use the word love but it was the only one which seemed appropriate to describe the see-sawing of her feelings and the great rush of joy which powered her heart whenever he walked into the room. When he kissed her she sometimes felt she could faint with pleasure and when he made love to her, her happiness threatened to spill over. It didn’t seem to matter how much she tried to deny what she was feeling, it made no difference. She wasn’t sure how it had happened. If it was because he’d taken her innocence and made her pregnant.
The Argentinian's Baby 0f Scandall (One Night With Consequences) Page 11
