Gypsy

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘And, of course, you can’t allow that to happen,’ Shay mocked knowingly.

  ‘What you saw just now was perfectly innocent,’ he claimed angrily.

  ‘Of course it was,’ she derided.

  ‘Shay—’

  ‘Shouldn’t you go and put some of the cream on that leg?’ She raised mocking brows.

  ‘Shay, I won’t be called a liar,’ declared Lyon tautly.

  Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Then maybe you should keep your latest bed-companion from the house while you’re trying to convince me I’m the only woman you want in your life!’

  His mouth tightened. ‘It is you I want!’

  ‘Of course it is,’ she agreed pityingly.

  ‘Shay, you know I want you,’ he groaned. ‘You know how much I need you!’

  ‘Do you, Lyon?’ She looked up at him enticingly. ‘How much do you need me?’

  He swallowed convulsively. ‘Come inside and I’ll show you,’ he said raggedly.

  ‘The baby …?’

  ‘I’ll be gentle,’ he promised achingly, his hand on her arm as he pulled her inside his bedroom.’

  ‘Peter Dunbar said I shouldn’t—’

  ‘I won’t make love to you, just—just hold you.’ He closed the bedroom door to take her in his arms, shaking with the force of his need. ‘Shay, let me take care of you.’

  She held herself stiffly in his arms, not able to relax even to cause him pain. ‘You are taking care of me by having me at the house.’

  ‘I don’t mean that.’ He looked down at her with tawny eyes. ‘The other night I left you unsatisfied, tonight I want to give you the release you need.’

  ‘No!’ She tried to pull away from him, realising this had gone much further than she had intended. She had only meant to tease a little, not let him fire that aching desire again.

  ‘Yes,’ he insisted forcefully. ‘Shay, you know there’s nothing wrong with that sort of lovemaking. It’s still me giving you pleasure.’

  After their second night together all those years ago she hadn’t been ashamed to enjoy that aspect of sensual pleasure with him, she just had no intention of giving this man satisfaction ever again, even that of knowing he had pleasured her.

  ‘I don’t think so, Lyon,’ she told him coldly, stepping back out of his arms, enjoying the look of bewilderment on his face at this sudden change in her. Too many times, in the past and recent months, she had been the one at the disadvantage.

  ‘Shay?’ He eyed her suspiciously. ‘A minute ago—’

  ‘You were in your bedroom with one of the maids.’ She gave a mocking laugh. ‘Really, Lyon,’ she chided tauntingly, ‘you’re getting more like Leon de Coursey every day!’

  His mouth tightened. ‘What are you trying to do to me, Shay? Tonight when I came home you were the solicitous sister-in-law, then you deliberately cause an argument between us, and just now you were teasingly inviting—’

  ‘I think you’re mistaken, Lyon, none of that sounds like me,’ she scorned.

  Lyon looked impatient, his hands thrust into the pockets of his robe. ‘I don’t think I know you any more, Shay,’ he sighed. ‘But I’m going to have you.’

  ‘And the baby,’ she prodded tautly.

  ‘You don’t think I’d ask you to give it up?’ His eyes were angry.

  ‘God, no,’ she gave a bitter laugh. ‘I know you wouldn’t do that.’

  He frowned. ‘Shay—’

  ‘I have to go, Lyon,’ she told him coldly. ‘After all, we wouldn’t want the staff to start gossiping about the amount of time we spend in each other’s bedrooms.’ She turned at the door. ‘Don’t come into my bedroom again like you did last night, Lyon, or I’ll scream so loud everyone will think the house is on fire!’ With a triumphant smile in his direction she went out into the hallway, leaning back against the door, the scene having taken a lot out of her.

  Lyon was being so persistent, so caring, almost loving, and if Marilyn hadn’t told her about his sterility she might eventually have begun to believe Lyon’s interest in her was genuine.

  Retribution could be so sweet!

  * * *

  SWEET, tormenting witch! Lyon lay on his bed aching for her, resisting the urge to dress and go down to the stables and saddle Wildfire. Returning at dawn hadn’t done him any good last night, he had still prowled his bedroom until he could change and leave for work. Even that had been a disaster, he had done nothing but snap people’s heads off all day, wondering if Shay would still be at the house when he returned that evening.

  She had been like a drug in his blood since the moment he had first seen her, but now he wouldn’t be able to stand the ‘withdrawal’ symptoms a second time.

  But she was playing a game with him—and he had no idea what the rules were!

  Shay had always been so open in the past, so candid, even when they met again in Los Angeles this time she had been completely honest—she had plainly shown her hatred of him! But something had happened today to change her from the spitting cat to the contented kitten. The only thing that had happened today that Matthew had told him of was Marilyn’s visit, and his wife usually had the effect of alienating Shay from him more than ever. No, he couldn’t believe it had been Marilyn’s visit that had changed Shay in this way!

  Then what was it? God, why couldn’t he just accept that she was more amenable towards him and go on from there! But he couldn’t, didn’t trust the change in Shay, had seen the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes as she had refused his lovemaking.

  Maybe telling her how much he wanted her had been a mistake, had betrayed his one and only weakness; that of needing and wanting Shay so much he would do anything to get her.

  The vixen was enjoying this change in rôles that knowledge gave her. But he didn’t care, as long as he ultimately got Shay.

  * * *

  HE WAS STIFLING her, there was no other way to describe the way Lyon was always there!

  During the day while he was at work she wasn’t allowed to go out except for a gentle walk around the grounds, and the only times she was allowed off the estate was when Lyon himself took her. She was suffocating beneath his constant attention!

  This Lyon wasn’t the same one she had known six years before, a man who had complained of being harassed if she dared even to telephone him at an unarranged time. Now he telephoned her constantly, at least three times a day, and usually at the most inconvenient times.

  Matthew thought it was very amusing. ‘How many times has he telephoned so far today?’ he mocked her at lunch, the two of them usually sharing this meal.

  ‘Three times,’ she muttered. ‘Once to see if I’d taken my vitamin pills, another time to see if Peter Dunbar had been yet, and another time to see what he had said when he did come,’ she sighed. ‘As if that’s any of his business!’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘This baby is a family affair, Shay.’

  Her eyes frosted over. ‘The baby is mine,’ she told him flatly.

  He gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Lyon’s only concerned for you.’

  ‘So much so that he insists his latest mistress take care of me,’ she snapped.

  Matthew stiffened, his eyes narrowed. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Patty!’ She bit savagely into the apple she was having for dessert, still furious at the way Lyon had informed her a week ago that he was making the other woman her personal maid. Of course she had refused, and of course he had ignored the refusal. Not that she didn’t still like the other woman, she did. But knowing what she did about Patty and Lyon made it seem as if he were taking her for a fool a second time.

  ‘You’re wrong about that,’ Matthew protested. ‘They aren’t having an affair.’

  ‘Matthew, I know how you always defend Lyon,’ she mocked, ‘but I actually saw Patty leaving his bedroom late one night.’

  ‘That doesn’t prove anything,’ he bit out tautly, a nerve pulsing in his cheek.

  ‘She was looking flushed and embarrassed, and Lyon was
only wearing his robe,’ Shay taunted.

  His mouth thinned. ‘The bastard!’

  ‘Matthew—’

  ‘I have to get back to work.’ He turned his chair and left the room.

  Shay frowned after him before shrugging. Lyon was a bastard. He also believed he had a place in her life now that she was no longer openly antagonistic to him. But she didn’t need to be, hugging to herself what Lyon had no knowledge of, anticipating the day when she would tell him he would have no part in the life of her baby.

  She and Matthew had done very well organising the party for Christmas, and she spent the afternoon addressing invitations, not surprised to find Lyon had added Marilyn and Derrick to the already extensive list; he and the other woman may be getting a divorce, but Marilyn was still very much a part of the family. It would greatly surprise Shay if the other woman actually married the innocuous Derrick when she still seemed to care so much for Lyon.

  ‘I thought you had finished your book,’ Lyon rasped as he entered the library shortly after five to find her sitting at the desk in front of the window, a fire burning in the hearth adding to the warmth of the centrally-heated room.

  She looked at him with cool eyes. ‘I have, it went off to my publisher last week. I’m addressing invitations to the party.’

  ‘Still?’ He frowned, standing beside the desk now, a scowl darkening his brow.

  He hadn’t bothered to shower and change after returning from work before searching her out, still wearing the grey business suit and gleaming white shirt, his tan from the summer having faded now, until sometimes he almost looked white.

  ‘You only telephoned me an hour ago, Lyon,’ she mocked.

  He looked irritated. ‘Couldn’t you have asked one of the staff to do them?’

  She quirked black brows, her face glowing healthily, the silk dress that was the same colour as her eyes feeling comfortably loose in her eighth month of pregnancy. ‘Patty, perhaps?’ she derided.

  ‘If I didn’t know how ludicrous the idea was I would think you were jealous of her,’ Lyon challenged harshly.

  Her expression remained bland. ‘As you said, the idea is ludicrous.’

  He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Shay—’

  ‘Lyon, I really would like to finish these invitations tonight.’ She pointedly turned away from him, becoming engrossed in the pages of names of the people to be invited to the Christmas party. She and Ricky had given several parties in Los Angeles, but nothing like the scale this guest-list implied!

  ‘Shay, I want to—’

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ Matthew was at the door, his expression censorious as he glared at his older brother. ‘I called the office and they said you had already left; working part-time now, are you, Lyon?’ he sneered.

  Lyon looked surprised by the attack, and Shay could understand why. Matthew could often be cryptic and rude, but she had never known him to be this cutting to Lyon before.

  Lyon’s face darkened even more. ‘If I choose to leave a few minutes early I don’t feel I have to justify myself to you!’

  Hazel eyes met his coldly. ‘Excuse me,’ Matthew snapped with sarcasm, ‘I believed we were running a business!’

  ‘What the hell is the matter with you, Matthew?’ Lyon demanded impatiently.

  ‘If you feel that your—other commitments, prevent you from doing your job properly as Chairman of Falconer Enterprises, then perhaps you ought to resign!’

  Shay gasped at the anger and resentment emanating from the younger man. He seemed so—so bitter, and it wasn’t an emotion she normally associated with him. ‘Matthew, if I’ve done anything—’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about you, Shay; you’re family.’ He still glared at Lyon. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’ Lyon frowned. ‘I’m not resigning, if that’s what you mean.’

  Matthew looked at the older man with coldly angry eyes. ‘Then maybe you ought to think about it!’ He turned to leave.

  ‘Matthew!’ Lyon’s instruction for him to stop sounded like a whip cracking. He strode across the room to join the younger man. ‘Maybe we should talk about this—’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Matthew told him harshly.

  ‘I agree you seem to have said it all,’ Lyon drawled derisively. ‘But I’d like to know why you said it at all.’

  ‘It isn’t important.’ Matthew seemed to be regretting his outburst now.

  ‘I disagree,’ he brother frowned. ‘We’ll go to your office. Excuse us, Shay?’

  ‘Of course,’ she nodded absently, as disturbed by Matthew’s behaviour as Lyon seemed to be. Matthew always gave the impression of being too coldly cynical to lose his temper in the way that he had. And although he had assured her it had nothing to do with her, Shay couldn’t help feeling partly responsible for his anger, knowing full well that she was the reason Lyon kept leaving work early. Not that she encouraged him to do so, but he did it anyway. And she had to admit she hadn’t done too much to stop him, not averse to letting Lyon believe he was making some ground with her. But she hadn’t meant to upset Matthew in the process.

  She didn’t see either of the men again until dinner, and then it was only Lyon.

  ‘Matthew has decided to eat in his suite,’ he told her tersely.

  She frowned her concern. ‘What’s wrong with him, do you know?’

  ‘How the hell should I know what’s wrong with him?’ Lyon poured himself a drink before swallowing it down, knowing Shay would have refused if he had offered her one.

  ‘You talked to him earlier—’

  ‘Much good it did me,’ he said bleakly. ‘I’ve never seen him like this before.’

  ‘Maybe it has something to do with my being here—’

  ‘You heard him say it wasn’t,’ Lyon snapped. ‘God, I’m sorry.’ He was instantly contrite, sitting down beside her on the sofa to take her hand in his, seeming pleased when she didn’t instantly flinch away from him. ‘I’m not used to sharing my problems with anyone,’ he admitted ruefully.

  If he were hoping to appeal to her sympathy, he was out of luck; she didn’t have any where this man was concerned. ‘I don’t want to share your problems either, Lyon,’ she told him callously. ‘But I am concerned about the way Matthew is behaving.’

  Lyon sprang to his feet, his face a mask of anger. ‘You’re concerned about every damned member of this family except me!’ His eyes were cold.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed bluntly. ‘But I wouldn’t worry about it, Lyon, there are plenty of other women who do care,’ she taunted.

  ‘I want you.’

  ‘Poor Lyon,’ she drawled unsympathetically.

  ‘God, what made you so hard?’ he rasped. ‘I can’t believe it was just me.’

  ‘No,’ she admitted harshly. ‘It wasn’t just you.’

  ‘Then why blame me for it all?’ he reasoned. ‘Once my divorce from Marilyn is made final we could get married, and then—’

  ‘I don’t think so, Lyon.’ Her voice was scornful, knowing her theory of him wanting to marry her for the baby was correct; it hadn’t taken him long to get round to suggesting marriage—once his divorce was final, of course, and her baby had been born! ‘I don’t love you, and I never could,’ she added coldly.

  ‘The baby is going to need a father—’

  ‘It has a father!’

  ‘He’s dead!’

  ‘Then maybe later on I’ll find some nice, kind man who will care for my baby and me,’ she challenged.

  Lyon’s eyes glowed like liquid gold. ‘You aren’t marrying anyone but me!’

  She drew in a controlling breath. ‘I only said maybe, Lyon. As it happens I don’t intend marrying again—ever. And neither will I be dictated to by you, or let you even think you’re making any of the decisions in my life. Now, is it convenient for me to drive up to town with you tomorrow, or shall I ask Jeffrey to take me?’ she arched haughty brows.

  ‘You aren’t going up to town tomorrow.’

  ‘I am.’
<
br />   ‘Shay, you only have five weeks to go before the baby is due—’

  ‘And Peter Dunbar said today that it was perfectly safe for me to do a morning’s shopping, as long as I rested in the afternoon.’

  ‘The man’s an idiot!’

  Her mouth twisted. ‘You said he was the best in the country,’ she reminded mockingly.

  ‘It’s just plain stupidity for you to wander about London on your own,’ he insisted adamantly.

  ‘Frightened I’ll have the baby in Harrods?’ Shay jeered.

  He shook his head. ‘Just frightened you’ll have the baby; it wouldn’t matter where it was.’

  ‘Then come with me,’ she invited lightly. ‘As long as you don’t think Matthew will accuse you of shirking your work again.’

  ‘I told you that has nothing to do with the time I spend with you,’ Lyon dismissed absently. ‘Why this sudden desire to go shopping tomorrow?’

  ‘It isn’t sudden,’ she protested. ‘I still have some things to get for the baby, and I haven’t done any of my Christmas shopping yet either,’ she added dryly.

  Lyon’s eyes darkened. ‘I’d like an Irish pixie with purple eyes under my tree,’ he said gruffly.

  All the colour drained out of her face as he reminded her of that Christmas six years ago, a time when she hadn’t yet learnt of his cruelty and selfishness, his need to have affairs constantly to prove his masculinity because he couldn’t prove his manhood by having a child of his own. It wasn’t surprising that Marilyn had also turned to other men!

  ‘I thought of buying you a box of cigars,’ she told him woodenly.

  ‘I don’t smoke,’ he frowned.

  ‘I know,’ she nodded.

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I suppose I could always smoke one the night the baby is born!’

  ‘That’s the father’s privilege,’ she gasped indignantly.

  He drew in a harsh breath. ‘Ricky has been dead over six months!’ he rasped savagely.

  She stood up. ‘I know he’s dead without your constant reminder of it,’ she bit out forcefully. ‘I think I knew it the moment his plane went down, but I wouldn’t admit it to myself! But you’ll never take his place. Never, do you hear?’ she glared at him heatedly.

  ‘I believe you’ve made yourself clear,’ he muttered between gritted teeth, pouring himself another drink.