Mistress by Agreement

by Helen Brooks

  She bit down hard on her lip, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment. Reason and logic told her to think in such a way was rubbish, that there would always have been someone for her father to be jealous of, but reason and logic didn’t always hold sway when the heart was involved. But now she had finally admitted the truth about the night her mother had died and why her father had taken his own life to someone, she felt the need to talk about it with Beth. To ask more about her parents’ relationship, more about them as people. It had always been such an emotive issue with her grandparents. She knew they had loved her but right until the day her grandmother had died, some seven years ago, followed by her grandfather five years later, she’d known the subject was a closed book.

  She supposed in a way she had been a sitting duck for someone like Miles who liked to dominate and control. She’d been so full of self-doubt and guilt, so easily crushed…

  ‘One coffee.’ Kingsley’s voice in her ear brought her out of the dark thoughts.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at him as he placed the cup in front of her and then tensed as he bent down, his lips caressing her neck before moving up to her mouth. Warmth spread through her and she no longer felt the chill of the past. Her eyelids were closed, and in the safe velvety darkness she let herself be carried along on the wave of desire, responding to the voluptuous exploring of her mouth and the slow, insistent building of sensation. He took his time, pleasuring himself as well as her, and by the time his lips left hers she was aching in her inner core and ready for more.

  ‘Drink your coffee.’ His voice was husky.

  She opened her eyes as he straightened and took his seat, flushing hotly at the knowledge that he knew how completely he had aroused her. Why had he stopped? She lowered her head as thoughts tumbled about in her mind. To prove that he was the one in control, was that it? And then she chastised herself in the next instant, sipping the coffee almost without tasting it. It had been her who had insisted they progress slowly; he was only keeping to the bargain.

  The kiss had left her tense and frustrated, and the former easy atmosphere had disappeared. Kingsley sat quietly, not trying to diffuse the electricity vibrating between them, and Rosalie found herself gulping down the coffee in silence, screamingly aware of the big male body just a foot or so away.

  Had he kissed her like that in preparation for a big seduction line in a few minutes? she asked herself as she drained her cup. Was that it? Certainly his kisses and touch swept her away from caution, but she wasn’t seriously considering sleeping with a man who didn’t love her and wanted an affair without any serious commitment. Was she? Alarm overwhelmed her that she had had to question herself, and now she emphasised strongly, No, she wasn’t. She was not.

  ‘Why don’t you go on up and I’ll clear away down here?’ His voice was level, cool even, and she raised startled eyes to his face, the flickering candles turning him into a monochrome of black and white in the shadows of the night.

  ‘No, I’ll help,’ she said quickly.

  ‘What’s to help? There’s just a few things to carry through and the dishwasher will take care of everything.’

  So…no seduction scene, then? She didn’t allow herself to recognise the thread of disappointment, shrugging lightly as she said, ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure.’ He smiled but his eyes were searching. ‘But once the plaster’s off it’ll be a different story. I’ll expect to be waited on hand and foot then.’

  ‘Expect all you like.’ She smiled too but it was forced. He spoke as if they were going to go on seeing each other, as though this was just the beginning, and it frightened her. And thrilled her—which was even more scary.

  She stood up carefully. She hadn’t bothered with the crutches tonight—they were more trouble than they were worth in the house. He rose with her, reaching out for her but holding her away from him slightly as he studied her face, a half-smile curving his lips. ‘You’re a very complex woman,’ he said softly. ‘Do you know that? But I’m not complaining. I’ve a feeling boredom is not an option around you.’

  ‘Is that a compliment?’ She could feel the colour that had crept into her cheeks whereas he was annoyingly cool, calm and collected. But then Kingsley never gave anything away.

  ‘What do you think?’ he drawled slowly.

  His hands were warm on her back, his eyes piercingly blue as they held hers, and he just looked at her, saying nothing as she searched for an adequate reply and found her brain had stalled. Which happened fairly often around him.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t kiss her. Instead he raised a hand to the smooth silky skin at the side of her face, stroking down one cheek as he said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Rosie.’

  ‘Goodnight.’ It was a whisper, and his arms held her for one more second before she was free.

  Beth and George were home in time for Beth to insist on cooking a huge Sunday lunch the next day. According to George, in a low aside to Rosalie when his wife was out of the room, Jeff was now back home in his flat and had made it clear he preferred the current girlfriend feeding him grapes and ministering to his every need, rather than his mother. ‘Understandable at his age,’ George had added quietly, ‘but I think Beth was a bit upset. Let her spoil you today, eh?’

  She had smiled back, whispering, ‘A nod’s as good as a wink. I’ll explain things to Kingsley.’

  After that, the first time Rosalie and Kingsley were alone again was in the car on the way back to Rosalie’s flat.

  ‘Thanks for being so nice to Beth today,’ Rosalie ventured as she settled back in her seat after waving goodbye to her aunt and uncle. Kingsley had dutifully eaten everything put before him and had second and even third helpings when Beth had prompted him, played cards for part of the afternoon with the older couple although Rosalie could tell it wasn’t his kind of thing, and discussed the different merits of French, Italian and Australian wine with Beth for ages—although wine definitely was his thing. Nevertheless, she realised he had put himself out for her aunt after she’d explained the reason for the older couple’s sudden arrival back at the house; being deliberately amusing and teasing Beth until the hurt look at the back of her eyes had faded and she’d become her old self.

  ‘It’s not difficult, she’s a very warm and giving lady,’ he said quietly. ‘She reminds me of my mother in a way.’

  ‘Your mother?’ He hadn’t spoken of his parents at all. She glanced at him, the chiselled profile doing funny things to her heartbeat. Ridiculous, but she couldn’t imagine him ever being child size.

  He nodded. ‘She died when I was twelve. She’d had a hard time having me and had been told any more babies might be fatal, but eventually she persuaded my father to try for another…’ He shrugged. ‘The unborn child died with her. My father married again three years later. My stepmother and I did not get on.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s history now. My father died when I was thirty and my stepmother has since remarried.’ He glanced at her, a wry twist to his mouth. ‘I was not invited to the wedding. It was a relief not to have to refuse the invitation.’

  ‘Things were still as bad as that?’

  ‘I can see now, looking back, that I wasn’t the easiest kid in the world for her to handle. As far as I was concerned my father’s interest in another woman besmirched my mother’s memory and they both had to pay for the desecration, added to which she was a hard, blonde, painted bimbo with pound signs for eyes.’ He shrugged. ‘Believe me, I don’t exaggerate.’

  ‘Right.’ She took another glance and wondered if she dared risk a quip to lighten what had suddenly become a heavy conversation. ‘Don’t mince words, Kingsley,’ she said softly. ‘Tell it as it is.’

  He grinned at her, totally unabashed. ‘I always do, honey,’ he assured her evenly. ‘I always do.’

  Once they drew up outside the flat Rosalie felt she could do nothing else but invite him in for coffee, an invitation
Kingsley accepted with alacrity.

  Late evening sunshine was streaming in through the sitting-room windows when she opened the door, enhancing the soft buttery colour scheme and mellowing the pine furniture. ‘Sit down, I won’t be a moment.’ She gestured to the sofa and then hobbled off to the kitchen. She had bought a small wheeled trolley since the accident and found it indispensable.

  Kingsley was sitting on the thick carpet looking through her music collection when she wheeled the trolley in. ‘No jazz?’

  ‘Sorry, not my scene.’

  ‘I can see I’m going to have to educate you in all manner of things,’ he said softly.

  She ignored that; it seemed appropriate when he looked so broodingly sexy. He finally decided on some classical music she’d had for some time, and she was just beginning to relax after he had moved to sit beside her when he said, out of the blue, ‘Did I mention I’m looking for a house in London?’

  For a moment she was speechless. ‘You are?’ she managed at last. ‘Why on earth are you doing that?’

  He glanced down at her, putting his coffee-cup on the little table at the side of the sofa and slipping an arm comfortably round her shoulders as he said, ‘It seems more sensible than all the inconvenience of hotels.’

  ‘But you’ll have your own—hotel, I mean. Surely you can have a suite reserved in that for your own use when you’re in England? And your main business is in the States, isn’t it?’

  ‘At the moment,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘But I want to develop the English project to include at least three more hotel complexes over here.’

  ‘You do?’ She just didn’t know how to handle that.

  She hadn’t realised the tone of her voice until he said, his drawl silky but with an edge to it, ‘I’d have thought you’d be pleased. No doubt Carr and Partners will get the business again, if the job is done right this time, of course.’

  Her throat had locked and she had to swallow twice before she could say, ‘Of course it will be done right,’ knowing she was skirting the main issue.

  ‘In spite of the business I’m in, I’ve never liked staying for any length of time in a hotel,’ he continued, the hardness of his thigh against hers setting up a chain reaction Rosalie could have done without. ‘On the one hand they are impersonal, not like a home, and on the other—with me owning the damn thing—my employees are a sight too nosy about my comings and goings. It’s like living in a goldfish bowl at times.’

  And no doubt his love life made interesting observation, she thought testily. She schooled her voice to show no expression. ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Me not liking hotels or my staff’s intrusiveness?’

  She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Both,’ she said coolly.

  She felt the blue gaze searching her face but she kept her eyes focused on the cup in her hands, and after a moment he said, ‘So, any suggestions?’ as he settled back, one knee over the other.

  ‘Suggestions?’ She raised fine eyebrows in bland enquiry.

  ‘On property,’ he said patiently.

  ‘I wouldn’t have a clue on the sort of thing that might interest you,’ she pointed out carefully. ‘Would you want a flat or a house or what?’

  ‘Not a what.’ He was smiling above her head; she could feel it. ‘Probably a flat. I’ve got the house in New York and a villa in Jamaica, so maybe a flat would be appropriate here.’

  A house and a villa? Lucky old him. Rosalie didn’t know why the thought of Kingsley buying a base in London was so unsettling, but it was. Which was crazy when you thought about it. London was more than big enough to take the pair of them and make sure they never bumped into each other for the rest of their lives! She took a deep breath. ‘You’d be better going to an expert,’ she said pleasantly.

  ‘Do you know, I might just do that.’

  Her heart gave an unsteady thud. She should never have agreed to work for him in the first place, that way none of this would be happening. But Mike would have thrown a blue fit if he had learnt she was turning business away, especially the sort of business Kingsley represented.

  Her hands tightened on the coffee-cup. No, she’d had no choice, she reassured herself firmly. Since Jamie’s dinner party events had unfurled almost of their own accord—aided and abetted by Kingsley, of course.

  She glanced up at him and the blue eyes were waiting for her. ‘I’d better be going. I fly back to the States first thing in the morning,’ he said, the tone lazy.

  ‘You do?’ She was surprised. ‘But…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You only arrived on Friday, didn’t you?’

  He nodded, his eyes tight on her puzzled face.

  ‘But surely the business you came to England about, the hotel…’ She tried to get her thoughts in order. ‘Don’t you need to deal with it?’ she asked.

  His thumbs traced patterns along her cheekbones before he kissed her, very thoroughly. ‘Who said I came over on business?’ he murmured huskily, rising to his feet. ‘Sleep tight, Rosie.’

  And he left.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘SO WHEN are you seeing him again?’

  It was the following night, and, lo and behold, Beth had turned up on Rosalie’s doorstep as soon as she’d got in from work. Her aunt had apparently come into town to do a spot of shopping—believe that, believe anything, Rosalie thought irritably. As soon as she’d answered the door to Beth the one and only topic of conversation had been a tall, dark American, and it was clear Beth had been completely bowled over.

  ‘I told you, I don’t know.’ The two women were sitting having a relaxing glass of wine whilst they waited for the pizza Rosalie had ordered to be delivered, or at least it would have been relaxing but for Beth’s one-track mind.

  ‘But you are going out together, officially, I mean? It’s not one of these horrible modern arrangements where each party is free to do this, that or the other?’ Beth asked anxiously.

  ‘Beth—’

  ‘Oh, it’s not! Tell me it’s not, Lee.’

  ‘I can’t get a word in edgeways to tell you anything.’ Rosalie softened the words with a smile, but inwardly she was wondering how on earth to explain her relationship with Kingsley to Beth, when she didn’t know if she was on foot or horseback herself. ‘I told you how we met and that I’m doing the quantity surveying for Ward Enterprises,’ she said carefully, ‘and we’ve agreed to date a little when he’s in England and see how it goes from there.’ And it would go absolutely nowhere.

  ‘So he’s not going out with anyone in the States in the meantime?’ Beth leant forward, her eyes on Rosalie’s face.

  Good question. ‘I assume not,’ Rosalie said even more carefully. But who knew with a man like Kingsley Ward?

  Beth wriggled a little, the way she did when she wasn’t totally satisfied about something. ‘Lee, he’s absolutely gorgeous, the most divine man since…since—’ words evidently couldn’t adequately express Kingsley’s divinity ‘—since ever, and you haven’t even set up ground rules?’ Beth wailed.

  ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘It never will be like that with a man as sexy as him if you don’t insist on it being so,’ Beth said anxiously.

  ‘I’m not sure I want a relationship with Kingsley.’ There, she’d said it, and now she waited for the storm to burst over her head as she stared straight at her aunt.

  Surprisingly Beth just slumped back in her seat before reaching across and pouring herself another glass of wine, drinking half of it before she sighed, long and loudly. ‘It’s him, swine face, isn’t it?’ Swine face had been Beth’s nickname for Miles since the divorce. ‘You aren’t still thinking about him, are you? In any fond way, I mean?’

  Funny how she had been asked that twice in as many days. ‘Memories softened by time and made sentimental?’ Rosalie asked evenly. ‘Beth, that just doesn’t apply where he was concerned.’

  Beth leant forward. ‘It’s probably the wine talking on an empty stomach,’ she said earnestly, ‘
but has whatever went on between you and Miles put you off trying with someone else, Lee? Because if it has, don’t let it. Not now, not with Kingsley. Men like him come along once in a blue moon.’

  Rosalie hesitated, and then she said, very quietly, ‘Marriage to Miles was a living nightmare, Beth. You don’t know the half.’ She took a big gulp of the wine.

  ‘Oh, Lee.’ Beth gazed at her, her plump, pretty face tragic.

  Rosalie took a deep breath. ‘I know the family don’t like to talk about my mother and father, but compared to Miles my father was positively normal.’

  Beth stared at her. ‘It’s not that we, me and George, don’t want to talk about your parents, but we thought you didn’t want to. You never have.’

  ‘Because it was always an absolute taboo. I thought you were all too ashamed of what had happened.’

  ‘No, no.’ Beth was clearly horrified. ‘But Mum and Dad, all of us, weren’t sure of how much you actually saw and what you remembered, you were only a little dot after all, and Mum thought if we didn’t harp on you’d get over everything quicker.’

  ‘Oh, Beth.’ Rosalie shook her head slowly, and then as she began to talk it all came out. All the doubts and fears and shame and guilt that had been shut away in her head for so many years, and the more she talked, the more Beth responded until the pair of them were crying on each other. But the tears were healthy and cleansing.

  ‘Your father adored you, Lee,’ Beth said at one point. ‘Never think otherwise. We all used to say how strange it was that he was never jealous of you in spite of the way your mother loved you, whereas the rest of us… We had a job to get over the threshold. But he looked on you as an extension of himself and your mother, I think. That was the thing.’