Mistress on Loan

by Sara Craven

  He was going to confess that he'd stolen the pendant, she thought wretchedly. And she couldn't bear it. Because nothing could excuse the damage he'd done to Angus and to herself, and she couldn't face hearing him admit that he was capable of inflicting that kind of hurt. She glanced at her watch and manufactured an exclamation. 'I've got an appointment with a client. She's got this very dark dining room... So, I—I'll see you back at the house later.'

  She saw his face close, and a sudden bleakness enter the grey eyes. He said quietly, rising to his feet, 'As you wish.'

  Adrien sent him a swift, meaningless smile and fled.

  She drove out of the village, deliberately choosing a road that would take her in the opposite direction to the Grange. She needed to distance herself so that she could sort out the turmoil in her mind.

  She parked in a lay-by and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes, letting her memory pick its v/ay painfully back across the years.

  She'd been touched and surprised when Angus Stretton had said he was giving a party for her at the Grange to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.

  'I always wanted a daughter to spoil,' he told her. 'And it's kind of your parents to allow me to share this special time with you all.' He smiled at her kindly. 'And it's time this house was livened up.'

  Adrien thought what a shame it was that he didn't have a family living with him at the Grange. Guarded remarks from her parents had told her that Mr. Stretton was married, but his wife was an invalid, permanently confined to a nursing home.

  But it was good that he had Piers, she told herself. And even better that Piers would be paying one of his periodic visits that weekend of her party. None of her friends had met him, and with his dark good looks he was going to cause a sensation.

  But she didn't expect Chay to be there.

  It had been two years since she'd seen him. And before that she'd gone out of her way to avoid him, staying away from the Grange altogether during his brief sojourns.

  But when he'd smiled at her, and said her name, she'd found it difficult to maintain her hostility. Besides, that tall, cool-eyed stranger had borne no resemblance to the quiet boy who'd turned from friend to enemy. And who seemed to want to be her friend again.

  And when he'd said gently, 'Adie—am I still the monster from your childhood?' she'd forgotten she was sixteen and officially an adult, and had blushed to the roots of her hair, stammering some disclaimer. Within a day he'd been gone again, but Adrien had found their fleeting encounter impossible to put out of her mind. His image seemed lodged in her head, waking or sleeping.

  Looking back, she could see there had hardly been a day when she hadn't thought about him. When she hadn't wondered where he was and what he was doing. And when he would return... Slowly but surely, the memory of him had become implanted in her heart and mind and started to bloom.

  So when she went up to the Grange on her birthday morning, and found him standing there in the drawing room, she ran to him on a blaze of happiness which took her straight into his arms. And then his mouth touched hers, warm, sensuous and very assured. Making no concessions to her inexperience. Imposing a subtle demand that was totally new to her, and which scared and thrilled her in equal measure..

  When at last he lifted his head, he said softly,

  'Well, now...'

  Then they heard Angus coming, with her father, and fell apart. Angus paused when he saw them, and glanced at Chay, his expression almost wary, and Chay looked back, smiling faintly.

  Then they began to discuss the final arrangements for the party, and the odd little moment was forgotten.

  'Isn't it wonderful that Chay's home?' she asked her father as they walked home.

  'Not particularly,' he said shortly. 'Because it will mean that those never-ending demands for money will start all over again. And Angus deserves some peace.'

  The dismissive words shocked her. Was that really why Chay had come back? she thought, feeling sick with disappointment. Because Angus was a rich man and Chay was trying to get a business of his own off the ground?

  The question hung over her like a shadow all day, but it couldn't spoil the anticipation of her party. As well as her friends from school, a lot of the local people were going, and Angus had hired a disco and arranged a lavish buffet supper.

  Adrien wore a cream silky dress, with the gold watch her parents had given her on her wrist and small gold studs in her ears.

  She was desperate to see Chay, to feel his arms around her again and seek the reassurance she needed from his kiss, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. Everyone wanted to dance with the birthday girl, and Chay appeared content with that. Later, she told herself. Later she'd be alone with him and it would all be different.

  She could feel the blood move in her veins, thick and sweet as honey. Could feel her skin tingle and warm in expectation of his touch.

  He'd come back for her sake, she told herself. That was how it had to be.

  Piers was much in evidence, of course, and Adrien told herself she didn't mind too badly, because he was a fantastic dancer and had murmured that she looked beautiful. And it might give Chay something to think about too. Angus had already given her a collection of classical music on CD, but during the course of the evening he called for silence and presented her with a velvet jewellery box.

  He said, 'For my wished-for daughter,' and smiled at her while everyone laughed and applauded. When Adrien opened it she found a garnet pendant gleaming at her. The stones were set in a delicate oval of gold, and instinct told her that the piece was very old, and probably valuable. She gasped and stammered her thanks, and Chay lifted it gently from its satin bed and fastened it round her throat. She felt the brush of his fingers on her nape and bent her head to hide the excited flush which warmed her face.

  'The clasp doesn't seem terribly reliable,' he commented. 'You'd better be careful, Adie.'

  Later those words would come back to haunt her.

  Eventually, worried that the clasp might give way while she was dancing, she replaced the lovely thing in its box and put it with the rest of her presents in the library. But when the party was over, and she went to collect her things, she couldn't resist having another look, and found the box empty.

  She stood staring down at it, her brain going numb as tendrils of fright began to uncurl inside her. Had she only imagined taking it off? She wondered frantically. Was it lying on the floor somewhere, broken?

  'What's wrong, sweetheart?' Piers had entered the library behind her, and she mutely held out the empty case, her eyes enormous in her white face. He said softly, 'So, we have a thief amongst us. My uncle has to know about this.'

  He took her arm and marched her back to the drawing room.

  'Adrien's pendant has been stolen,' he announced abruptly, indicating the empty case she was holding. 'I say the police should be called.'

  I'm dreaming, Adrien thought. This is a nightmare, and soon I'll wake up and it will be over. There was a brief and terrible silence. She could see her parents looking aghast, and Angus's face, stricken, suddenly old and defeated, as he turned to look at Chay.

  He said tiredly, 'You'd better go and get it. I suppose it's in your room.'

  And Chay said quietly, the grey eyes defiant, 'You know it is.'

  Angus nodded. 'You'll fetch it,' he said. 'And then you'll leave this house and not come back. Or I can't answer for the consequences.'

  'And that's it?' Piers demanded angrily. 'He comes back here scrounging, tries to steal from a guest under this roof, and you just let him go? I say he should be arrested.'

  'You're not the master here yet, Piers.' Angus's voice was bitterly forceful. T will handle this matter as I wish. Chay will return the pendant to me, and then he'll leave.'

  It was warm in the room, but Adrien felt cold and dizzy suddenly. She caught at her father's sleeve.

  'Can we go now—please? I can't bear any more.'

  'Yes, of course,' he said
swiftly. I'm sorry, darling.'

  Her mother came to her side, putting a sympathetic arm round her, urging her out of the room. Back at the cottage, she lay on her bed, uncaring of the creases in the cream dress.

  She said, 'Why did he do it?'

  Her father said quietly, 'Angus refused to give him any more money. That was his revenge. I'm only sorry that he chose to involve you. That was too cruel' He paused. 'You'll get the pendant back, of course.'

  'No.' Adrien began to cry, sobs shaking her body. 'No, I don't want to see it ever again. It's spoiled— all spoiled.'

  It would always remind her of Chay, fastening it round her throat. Of his touch on her skin. And she never wanted to remember that—never.

  Not just the party had been spoiled, she realised. But her whole life.

  Because Chay, whom she loved, was a thief, and therefore lost to her forever.

  Adrien stirred, opening her eyes, forcing herself back to reality. For a moment, as she looked at the windscreen, she thought it was raining again. Until she realised that it was her own eyes that were blurred, her face wet with tears as all the old pain tore into her. As the sheer force of everything she felt for him overwhelmed her.

  Her unfulfilled body was starving for him, craving him, but that was only part of it. Her heart and mind wanted him too, she thought, pressing a clenched fist to her trembling mouth. Needed him as fiercely as she needed air to breathe.

  Had there ever been a time when she hadn't loved him? She asked herself. All these years she'd fought her longing for him, trying to hide behind barricades of bitterness and contempt. Hoping that if she told herself over and over again that she hated him, that would somehow make it true.

  But she knew now that all her denials had been useless.

  She thought with desperation, I loved him then, and I love him now. But I can't stay with a man I can't trust. And that's all there is to it. And until he allows me to leave, I shall simply have to— endure.

  And presently, when she had no more tears left, she started the engine and drove back to the Grange, to face the time that was left.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Thankfully, there was no one about when she got back to the Grange, and Adrien was able to whisk her tear-stained face and bedraggled appearance safely to her room.

  She took a long shower, using her favourite scented gel, and shampooed her hair rigorously. She felt as if she was shedding the past like a skin. And if she kept her eyes firmly on the future, however bleak it might seem, she'd be able—somehow—to cope with the present. That was the theory, anyway. In practice, living under the same roof with Chay but not living with him, it might not be so easy. She towelled herself dry and slipped on lacy briefs and a matching bra. Then, wrapped in the old jade robe, she curled up in her armchair and switched on her hairdryer, combing the long auburn strands with her fingers and flicking them into place with the deftness of long practice.

  She had almost finished when a peremptory rap at her door cut across the buzz of the drier. She clicked the off switch and went to answer it, tightening the sash of her robe.

  Chay was waiting with thinly veiled impatience. 'I thought you'd gone into purdah.' The grey eyes flicked over her. 'Didn't you hear me knocking?'

  'I've been drying my hair.' Just the sight of him was enough to start that helpless inner trembling.

  'So I see.' He reached out and fingered one silky strand. His mouth twisted slightly. 'You look about sixteen, Adie, do you know that?'

  She thought, her face warming. And when you look at me like that, I feel sixteen again. Aloud, she said with a certain constraint, 'Did you want something? Is there a problem?'

  'I came to give you this/ He bent and retrieved a large flat box tied with ribbons that had been propped against the wall and handed it to her.

  'What is it?' Adrien looked at it uncertainly.

  'Open it.' he advised, following her into the room.

  She untied the ribbons, lifted the lid and parted the folds of tissue paper. The sheen of satin met her eyes. Black, she thought, until the light caught it and she saw a shimmer like deep crimson.

  It was a dress, she realised as she lifted it out and held it up. Low-necked and long-sleeved, with a brief swirl of a skirt cut cleverly on the bias.

  He said, Td like you to wear it for the drinks party on Saturday.' He paused. 'They call it Venetian red.'

  'It—it's beautiful.' Her mouth was dry. 'But you don't have to buy me clothes. That's not part of the deal.'

  He shrugged 'Look on it as a bonus for all the work you've done for this weekend.'

  It was as if the deepest, darkest mahogany had suddenly become fluid, she thought, feeling the beguiling slide of the fabric through her ringers. She said. 'How did you know my size?'

  'Would you believe—instinct?'

  Her lips trembled into a smile. 'That's probably as dangerous as female intuition.'

  'I back my judgement,' be said.

  'And the colour,' she went on. 'I—I never wear red/

  The grey eyes met hers. 'Try it on and see.'

  He was still formally attired in the dark business suit he'd been wearing earlier. He walked across to the armchair and sat down, loosening the knot of his tie and unbuttoning the close-fitting waistcoat. Her throat tightened-'In front of you?'

  He nodded. 'Here—and now.' He leaned back in the chair, stretching out long legs. 'I've decided to take you up on your previous offer,' he added softly. She'd always known she would regret that particular piece of bravado. And he was waiting for her to protest— to remind him that theirs was a business relationship—that he'd promised...

  Lifting her chin, Adrien untied the sash of her robe, letting her gaze meet his in direct challenge as she took it off and tossed it to the floor. One glance at the dress's wide, deeply scooped neckline had already told her that she wouldn't be able to wear a bra under it.

  Still watching him, she reached round and unfastened the clip, shrugging the narrow straps from her shoulders. For a moment she held it in front of her, using the lace cups as a shield, her hands deliberately teasing before she removed it altogether, letting it flow down to join her robe on the floor. She no longer felt awkward or shy under his intense scrutiny. She wanted him to look at her. To do more than look. To touch, and to take. As she would take him.

  She raised her arms, unhurriedly pushing her hair back from her face, hearing his sudden sharp intake of breath as she held the pose for a count of seconds. Then she picked up the dress and slid it over her head. It felt voluptuously cool against her heated skin, curving into her waist and skimming her slender hips as it drifted into place. There was a sweet ache in her breasts as the satin caressed their hardening peaks, and she knew that his own body would be experiencing a similar response.

  She slipped her arms into the long sleeves, then paused, almost startled, as she glimpsed herself suddenly in the long wall mirror. She wouldn't have dared choose it for herself, but now she saw how the deep, dramatic colour heightened the flame in her hair and turned her skin to milk. As he'd known it would.

  She felt different—exotic—all inhibitions flown. She turned gracefully and walked towards him, barefoot, holding the unfastened bodice against her, the skirt whispering about her knees.

  She said sedately, 'I need help with the zip, please,' and turned her back to him.

  She half-heard, half-sensed that he'd got up from the chair. There was a pause and Adrien tensed, scarcely breathing, waiting...

  He sighed, burying his face in her hair, then letting his hands slide under the edges of the dress and close softly on her breasts. She leaned back against him, moving her hips slowly, letting her body brush his with deliberate enticement, blind to everything but the urgent demand of her own sensuality. His hands skimmed her inflamed nipples, drawing a soft whimper from her throat.

  He turned her in his arms, his hand tangling in her hair, quenching the fierceness of his kiss in the moist compliance
of her parted lips.

  When he lifted his head, she could hear the rasp of his breathing, and reached up to draw him down to her again. But he shook his head, his mouth curling into a crooked smile.

  He said quietly, 'It would be so easy, Adrien—and so impossible. Because I need more than you have to give. And I won't settle for less.'

  He put her from him, gently but decisively, and walked to the door. She clutched the dress against her, her eyes wide with disbelief as she watched him go. At the door, he turned.

  He said, 'As I tried to tell you earlier, I have another guest arriving during the weekend.' He paused, then added with cool finality, 'I've told Jean to put her in the room next to mine.' And went.

  It was a long time before she moved. Before she was capable of a simple action like taking off the dress and hanging it up. Before she could make her arms and legs obey her, and force her dazed mind to come to terms with what had just happened to her. There was a girl looking back at her from the mirror, a stranger, naked except for a tiny triangle of lace, whose face looked haggard in the growing shadows of the room. Someone who looked solitary, and frighteningly vulnerable.

  She stared at this girl, trying to view her dispassionately. To see her as Chay would have seen her only a few minutes before—the small, high breasts, the tapering waist and slender legs. Her eyes shadowy with promise. Her semi-nude body in itself an invitation.

  But desirable? She could no longer be sure of anything. Least of all her own untried sexuality. With a tiny cry, Adrien swooped on her robe and huddled it on, and turned away, as if that, somehow, would obliterate the image from her mind.

  So much for all the heart-searching she'd subjected herself to, she thought, her throat closing. At the very moment she'd found the courage to tell Chay she'd been wrong about him he'd been trying to tell her that it no longer mattered.

  That he'd found someone else with whom he'd share a future instead of a past. Someone who'd value him for the man he'd become rather than the bitter figure of vengeance she'd created in her mind.