by Helen Brooks
He didn't wait for her agreement, putting a hand under her elbow and gently steering her into the large room she remembered from her pre-wedding days, but which the then owners had designated as a separate sitting room for their teenage children.
The study wasn't at all what Victoria expected. Instead of the somewhat clinical office atmosphere she had pictured when Zac had told her about all the equipment he'd had installed, it was almost cosy. A deep red, thickly piled carpet covered the floor, the same colour reflected in the long velvet drapes at the window, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered one wall, complete with books. A second wall was taken up with Zac's computer and other equipment, with his desk in one corner, but it was to the roaring log fire in the deep-set, carved wooden fireplace that Victoria's gaze was drawn, and the massive sheepskin rug in front of it set between two large comfy easy chairs.
'Oh, I don't remember this room having a fireplace.' She loved real fires, she always had, although Coral had never allowed them, preferring central heating and smart gas fires for efficiency and cleanliness. 'It makes such a difference.'
'It was here but there was a big screen in front of it along with an electric fire,' Zac said quietly as Victoria moved across the room and held out her hands to the blaze. 'I suppose the Watsons didn't trust their kids not to set the house on fire.'
'No…' She nodded but didn't turn round. 'Well, I'm glad you're using it. I love real fires; I always have.'
'Tory?' As she turned to face him he took her in his arms, taking her completely by surprise, his body hard and sure against hers and his mouth hungry as he kissed her and kissed her until she kissed him back just as fiercely, relishing the taste of him.
Somehow her hands had found their way into his robe, her fingers caressing the thick tangled hair on his chest before moving up to the broad muscled shoulders that were bare and smooth under her touch. His skin was cool, cool and fresh.
'Oh, Tory, Tory, you don't know how much I've wanted this,' he murmured huskily, his hands cupping the fullness of her breasts before he took her mouth again in a kiss that was like a kind of consummation in itself. 'These last few days have driven me mad…'
She was wearing a prim, high-necked and long-sleeved dress that buttoned down the front, and it wasn't until she felt his warm fingers on her bare skin that she realised every button was undone, and that he was peeling back her bra to reveal first one heavy, swollen breast and then the other. But as his head bent to take possession of what his hands caressed she couldn't resist him, a desire so elemental as to be unstoppable drugging her senses as his lips caused her to quiver and arch in ecstasy.
Her legs were trembling so much it was a relief when he lowered her carefully onto the rug, but the brief break in lovemaking was enough for her to realise she was almost naked, and suddenly a flood of painful self-consciousness caused her to fumble with her clothing as she tried to hide her changed shape.
'Don't, don't, I'm not going to hurt you, but let me look at you at least,' Zac murmured throatily. 'You're so beautiful, so incredibly, fantastically beautiful like this.'
'Beautiful?' She shook her head, but her hands stilled. 'Zac, I'm enormous…fat,' she protested with burning embarrassment.
'No, you're beautiful,' he said again, his eyes worshipping her. 'Your skin's got a kind of translucence I've never seen before, and I can't tell you how it makes me feel to see your belly all rounded and smooth and knowing that it's my child you're carrying. When I felt it move… It's a miracle, Tory.'
This time it was Victoria who pulled his head down to hers, kissing him with a frantic kind of innocence that touched him to the core as his words unlocked a tumult of fierce emotion.
They spent a long time touching and tasting in front of the flickering fire, the thick rug soft and warm and the room shadowed and dim from the stormy, dark day outside their haven. They explored each other with uninhibited sensual pleasure, Victoria's fears of how he would react when he saw her naked long since put to rest. He did find her beautiful and desirable—it was there in his eyes and the gently passionate caresses of his mouth and hands—and she so needed to be loved. The last seven months bad been a barren desert of pain and anguish, and after the last few days she couldn't have resisted him; it was as simple as that. The future was the future, this was now, and she was only human. He was her husband and she adored him.
'Zac, I want you,' she whispered at last in a trembling whisper.
They were both liquid with desire, but she had sensed the deep restraint he was putting on his own passion and understood the reason for it, but now she captured his manhood in her fingers, guiding the silken force between her thighs.
'Tory, I don't want to hurt you.' He had drawn back a little, raising himself on one elbow to look down at her, soft and smooth and flushed, stretched out in sensuous abandonment beneath him. 'It's been so long and I want you so badly.'
'I know, I know, and you won't, it's all right.' She stroked him slowly, feeling him quiver beneath her fingers and relishing the power she had over this proud, hard man as she watched him close his eyes and arch his back. And then he twisted his body round, moving her so she found herself sitting astride him with his thighs beneath hers, her rounded belly and ripe, voluptuous breasts gleaming in the glow from the fire.
She guided him into her slowly, the ache at the core of her needing his hard strength, and then she began to move, softly, sensuously, watching his face as she felt his body move and contract. She loved him, she loved him more than life itself, and she needed him. Just this once she needed to know he was all hers, that his mind and body were centred on her and her alone.
The rhythmic undulations were coming thick and strong, and, as on their wedding night, Victoria felt herself going into another world that was all colour and touch and sensation. His possession was complete, and all the more precious because of the sensitivity he had displayed—his desire to put her well-being before his own sexual satisfaction.
The peaks of pleasure went on and on, until the final shuddering climax released a simultaneous fierce ay of release that splintered the light behind her closed eyelids into a million prisms as they moved together as one—one body, one heart-shattering fusion. And then she collapsed against him, utterly spent, and his arms encircled her, drawing her into his body.
'Zac?' It was a full five minutes later. 'Are you awake?' He stirred, drawing her closer into the heady male warmth of him as he said, his voice soft and satisfied, 'What is it?'
'Your daily, Mrs Watts—what if she should—?' 'It's her day off.' The fire spluttered and glowed in a shower of red-gold sparks, and as she snuggled deeper he said, 'This day is ours, Tory, just ours,' echoing the poignantly sweet refrain of her heart.
CHAPTER NINE
'What do you mean, nothing's changed?'
She had known it was coming, known he wouldn't like what she had to say, but nothing had prepared Victoria for the look of sheer rage on Zac's face as she faced him over the dining table.
The day had been an infinitely sweet one. They had dozed on the rug in front of the fire, Zac's body encircling her in its warmth as he had curled himself about her, until, in spite of Zac's body heat, Victoria had begun to feel chilled. And then Zac had warmed her, slowly, sensuously, until the fire that burnt so blazingly hot in the grate had been nothing to the one inside Victoria. She just couldn't believe how he could make her feel.
Like before he had been mindful of her condition, but by the time he had kissed and stroked her all over, his mouth more intimately erotic than she could ever have thought possible as it searched out her secret places, she was melting for him.
Nothing had disturbed them in their little idyll—-not the fierce wind and rain from the stormy day outside as it beat on the window in wild, blustery squalls, nor the fax in the corner of the room as it bleeped and whirred and obediently laboured on, not even the answering machine, which Zac had turned down so low that the constant messages were nothing more than faint whispers.
October had changed into November during Victoria's sojourn upstairs—it had been her birthday on the thirtieth and Zac had given her a beautiful diamond pendant and matching bracelet and earrings—and by five o'clock the evening had been as dark as midnight, the storm clouds still scudding across a sky from which a timid moon gave out a thin hollow light now and again before being swallowed into oblivion.
Zac had led her upstairs slowly. She'd been tired and he'd known it, the bruised shadows under her eyes and her swollen lips bearing their own testimony to a day of love, but when he'd followed her into the bathroom it was Victoria who drew him with her into the shower cubicle, kissing him passionately as he took her in his arms.
In the weeks that followed, Victoria could never remember that day without experiencing the erotic thrill of Zac's soapy hands moving over her body, and the feel of his own hard, powerful chest and buttocks and thighs beneath her fingers as she'd washed him in turn, her fingers exploring as they stroked his wet body.
And then he'd dried her gently and massaged rich fragrant moisture cream over her breasts and the swollen mound of her stomach, moving on to her arms and legs, even her feet, before he'd slipped his robe over her again and led her into the bedroom.
'Go to sleep for a while.' He drew back the covers as he spoke, his voice soft. 'There are a couple of things I have to deal with downstairs, and then we'll eat Do you want to go out for a meal, or shall I order something in? Indian, or Chinese maybe? Or there's an excellent Italian place opened nearby?'
'Chinese.' She smiled at him, her eyelids heavy.
'Sweet and sour? Chop Suey? Chow Mein?'
'You choose.' She couldn't believe how exhausted she felt.
'Okay.' He bent down and stroked a silky strand of hair from her cheek, his eyes as warm as black velvet as his fingers caressed the full contours of her lips before he straightened and pulled the covers more closely around her. 'Go to sleep, my love,' he said softly, his smile incredibly sweet as he gazed down at her, drowsy and flushed in the big bed, before he walked to the door.
She must have slept—she was sure she had—but some time later she was suddenly wide awake, and in spite of all the intimacies they had shared it was the look on Zac's face in those last few minutes he had been with her that brought scalding hot panic flooding into every nerve and sinew.
She sat bolt upright in the bed as the awareness of how stupid, how incredibly criminally stupid she had been fully dawned. She'd gone back on every promise she'd made to herself.
There was more to love than loving somebody. She shut her eyes tight, moaning deep inside her with silent despair. The person you loved had to love you back, and it had to be the right sort of love. And Zac's wasn't.
Oh, he was good at the tender endearments, and he could be thoughtful, gentle—incredibly gentle for such a big man, Victoria thought sickly. But that extra something—the something that meant commitment, heart-and-body commitment—just wasn't in his psyche. And she'd known that; she had no excuse.
So…knowing it—why had she made love with him? Before she was married she had had the excuse of not knowing what he was really like, but she couldn't hide behind that convenient get-out clause now. When he had looked at her before he'd left the room, when he had stroked her face and smiled at her with those glittering black eyes—she could have believed she was the only woman in the world for him. And that was what he wanted her to believe; that was how he was. He probably made each woman feel special and loved; he couldn't help it.
She had been brought up in the home of a man who couldn't fully commit himself to his wife and family, and it had been hell on earth. Oh, she wasn't saying it was all her father's fault, Victoria told herself as she lay back against the pillows and opened her eyes, staring into the darkness as her thoughts sped on. Her parents' strange marriage had suited her mother, she had no doubt about that, and if Zac had chosen someone like Coral no doubt he could have lived perfectly happily with her—and she with him—while they both pursued their own lives.
But she didn't want that. Perhaps what she was looking for didn't even exist, perhaps no one was capable of remaining faithful to one person for the rest of their lives? Her childhood had been so isolated, so devoid of emotional contact, that she could accept she didn't have the first idea about how real families ticked and what went on behind closed doors.
But she did know her own limitations and what she could bear—and she couldn't bear watching Zac have a series of liaisons down the years, any more than she could stomach being shut out of certain parts of his life when it suited him—like his work, or his friendships, or whatever.
If her view of marriage was an impossible, idealistic dream, then so be it, but she wasn't going to put herself, and any children she might have, through the torture of living in an unhappy home. She had to remain strong, and she must make it clear to Zac tonight that today was just a one-off and never to be repeated, and that nothing, nothing had changed.
'Well?' Zac's sharp question brought her back to the present His voice was icy, his black eyes narrowed on her pale face. 'I asked you a question, Victoria. How can you sit there and tell me nothing has changed after today?'
'Because it hasn't.' The wonderful array of Chinese food on the table was getting cold, but neither of them noticed. 'I—' Her voice faltered, but she owed him this at least, Victoria told herself miserably as she forced her-self to go on. 'I do love you, Zac—I've always loved you and I probably always will—but I can't live with you. We…we're too different—'
'We're damn well not,' he growled furiously, and then, as she continued to look at him with drowning, tragic eyes, his voice was softer as he continued, 'We're not, Tory, don't you see? I love you—you must know that I love you? And you love me; you just said so. What else matters?'
That was it in a nutshell She stared at him as his words registered in her brain. He thought loving each other was enough, but it wasn't. Her parents must have loved each other once—everyone loved each other once, she thought feverishly, before the rot set in. But love would fade and die without heart commitment.
'Lots else matters,' she answered at last, her voice quiet and painful. 'Things like Gina matter; you using me to further your business interests—'
'Right, let's clear this up now once and for all,' Zac barked sharply, clearly at the end of his tether with the way the conversation was going as he left his chair opposite her and came to sit right beside her, but his voice was controlled again when he said, 'Just listen to me without interrupting for once, right?'
She nodded, knowing nothing he could say or do would alter her mind. It was too late. It had actually always been too late.
'I admit it was pretty stupid of me to go to Gina's room without explaining what was happening first,' Zac said evenly, holding her eyes with his own, 'but I didn't want anything to spoil what had been a—' he searched for the right word and found it'—an unimaginable night of love.'
Victoria shifted restlessly but said nothing.
'Gina and I had had a relationship as you know,' he continued steadily, 'but it had ended months before I met you. We'd finished as friends—perhaps we'd been friends all along and should never have taken it that step further, because that certain something was never there, not really. Anyway, when she needed me, I couldn't turn my back on her.'
She didn't want to hear this; it wasn't helping.
'She had been ill for some time and just lost her job, which was why I helped her out with the apartment when my aunt contacted me, and on the morning of our wedding she had had the results of some test she'd gone for the week before. They were positive. She has a serious illness that needs long-term treatment which will be unpleasant, and she has
no money and no close friends, besides me. She panicked, it was as simple as that, and took a load of pills without really thinking about it And then;..' He shrugged. 'You know the test,' he said flatly.
'She called you and you went to her,' Victoria said slowly.
'And I'd do the same again,' Zac said without flinching, 'but the only thing I'd do differently is take you with me. I was trying to protect you from it all, Tory, and—'
'Treat me like a baby?' Victoria asked flatly. 'You've never shared anything with me, Zac, not really—the deal with my mother, Gina, everything. All the time we were dating we never really talked, and I realise now we were never alone together—'
'I wanted to be alone with you,' Zac interrupted tightly. 'Hell, how I wanted to be alone with you. But you were like the song—sweet sixteen and never been kissed—and you were so shy, so vulnerable. I couldn't believe it when I met you—I didn't think girls like you existed any more—but then I realised you were real and I was terrified I'd do something, say something, to frighten you away. I'm a man of thirty-five, Tory, and I'd been used to a fairly active sex life before I met you. I used to ache to have you, I tell you that now. The times I wanted to ravish you then and there are without number, but I wanted to do something right for once. And so I decided there was safety in numbers; it was as simple as that.'
'But…but we could have got to know each other better—just talked; we needn't have made love,' Victoria protested softly.
'It was too much of a risk,' Zac stated flatly. 'I didn't trust myself not to seduce you; that's how it was, Tory.'
She stared at him, not knowing what to believe. 'Zac—'
'But I couldn't wait either,' he continued quickly when she would have spoken. 'And so I rushed you down the aisle, didn't I, like there was no tomorrow? And I knew I was rushing you, Tory; I have no excuse. I knew you were the only woman I'd ever want, you see—like my mother had been the only one for my father—and I couldn't risk losing you.'
