Mistaken Mistress

by Margaret Way

  “I won’t!” Now she faced him directly, lifting her chin. “Dad has to get used to my making my own decisions. This one is based on love and my own integrity. I don’t know how many more years my grandfather has left. He’s seventy-five and my mother’s death has crippled him.”

  “Give your father a little time,” Lang suggested. “He’ll come ’round.”

  “How many days are left? I intend leaving Christmas Eve. Dad knows, but he’s ignoring the fact Delma doesn’t really want me.”

  “The truth is your father is giving Delma time to make a turn-around. In a way she’s in shock. They’ll reconcile. They always do.”

  “There you go again.” She sighed.

  He ran a finger down her cheek. The first vaguely tender gesture of the evening. “I’m looking from the outside in. You wouldn’t want your father to end his marriage? There are plenty of women out there ready to snaffle him.”

  “Of course I don’t want him to.” Eden was genuinely shocked. “Delma waits on Dad hand and foot. She picks all his clothes. She even lays his outfits out on the bed for him. She runs the house brilliantly. Once I’m out of the way…”

  “Things will settle, I know. I’ll talk to Owen. You’ll have to say good-night to our hosts.”

  “Of course.” She spoke very calmly but she knew she would have to be very careful, very controlled.

  The storm threatened all the way back to the house. Fireworks lit up the sky. Thunder rolled in from the sea. The trees and towering palms were all in motion. Flurries of spent leaves blazed copper in the headlights.

  “Where are we going?” she came out of an unhappy fugue to ask. Instead of taking the side road that led to her father’s house, Lang had continued along the main road. “I thought you were taking me home.”

  “What are you going home for?” he asked in a sardonic voice, flicking a glance at her. “To sit in a lonely house?”

  “But we’re driving into an electrical storm.” She stared at the storm. “Where could we go?”

  “My place,” he answered bluntly. “That’s if you don’t find it too depressing.”

  He didn’t speak again until they pulled into the underground parking lot of his apartment building.

  “Frightened?” He helped her out, silver eyes glittering in his dark striking face.

  Of what? She didn’t answer. Heart pounding. Whatever was going to happen she couldn’t stop it. Although she knew perfectly well where Lang lived, she had never visited his apartment. To be alone with him would have been much too demanding.

  And now?

  They stood side by side in the lift that took them to the penthouse. Neither spoke, though the air was charged with as much electricity as the night air outside. She knew she was on the edge of a precipice; that danger trembled within her. There was something different in Lang’s handsome face. He, too, was on the edge as though it had all gone beyond the point where their lives could be changed or reshaped.

  He unlocked the door, turned on the lights.

  Eden’s eyes raced around the large, open-plan room. She saw him in the decoration. Confident, masculine, cultured, very stylish with some beautiful artworks here and there to add drama.

  “This is wonderful,” she said, coughing a little because her throat was dry and she was over-stimulated. “It speaks of you.”

  “What does it say?” He took her evening purse from her and set it down on a mahogany console where it rested between two gilt-bronze winged lions.

  “You have great taste. You’re a very confident man. You love beautiful things.”

  “It’s not a home. It’s a retreat,” he told her. “I know what I want to build when the time’s right. There are some great views from the balcony. We might as well take a look before the storm really sets in.”

  What was a storm compared to the tumult of desire?

  He opened the massive sliding doors that led onto the balcony. The wind straight off the sea was lashing at the fronds of the golden canes that were set in huge ceramic pots, scattering the hanging flower clusters of the two magnificent medinillas that normally would be protected by the roof of the balcony.

  Even as they stood there, both exulting in the awesome power of nature, a great flurry of spray with the sting of salt suddenly hit the balcony, rattling the sliding-glass doors with its force.

  “Lord!” Immediately Lang’s arms came around her, drawing her back. “Damn it’s wet your beautiful dress!”

  “It doesn’t matter.” The bodice was clinging to her like a second skin, the tightly budded peaks of her nipples clearly visible, betraying her state of arousal. “Please, it doesn’t,” she repeated when he looked like he didn’t believe it. “Anyway the front of your shirt is damp and the shoulders of your jacket.” She studied him very briefly. The spray had sheened his tawny skin making it gleam like bronze.

  His sculptured mouth twitched. “I dare not say you could take it off. There’s a clothes dryer but it looks much too delicate for that.”

  “A hair dryer?” she asked, inexplicably beginning to shiver.

  He thought for a moment. “Yes there is. I rarely use it. Why don’t you come through to the bathroom? I’ll leave you in privacy.”

  The bathroom was state of the art, the marble that had been used for the floor and the walls and the surrounds of the bath as beautiful as jade.

  “You can manage?” he asked. It was unimaginable agony keeping his hands off her. “I can find you a shirt. It should cover you nicely.” It was difficult to talk, when he was fighting the hard recklessness in him.

  For all the evenness of his tone she must have sensed his desire.

  “You can’t stay here with me,” she whispered.

  “No.” He barely recognised his own voice, laced as it was with a harshness just short of anger. Back to square one. Was she ever going to trust him?

  He left her alone, going in search of something she could wear but when he returned with a blue cotton shirt he hadn’t even worn, she was still standing forlornly looking into the mirror. Seeing nothing he guessed from the inward intensity of her gaze.

  “What is it?” he asked in a low urgent voice.

  “I’m sorry.” She raised her head to him. Her hair after its recent spraying had turned into a riot of curls and waves. “What do you mean?”

  “You. Me. Trust.” He made a little sweeping gesture with his hand. She actually jumped.

  “Oh for God’s sake!” he exclaimed. “I’m leaving. Get your dress off. Put on the shirt. I don’t know if you’re trembling or shivering or both.”

  She called after him, wanting to tell him it wasn’t he she feared, but herself. Loudly he closed the door on her. She had decided on him. He was everything she had ever wanted. But had he decided on her? That was the monumental question. Her wariness she could see was ingrained.

  When she returned to the living room he had shut the sliding-glass doors against the storm and was busy making coffee in the long galley kitchen. She could smell the marvellous aroma.

  She blew out a breath, a little nervous at letting him see her in his shirt. He was a big man. Very tall with wide shoulders. The expensive shirt, the cotton so fine it felt like silk, bunched all around her, skimming her knees. She felt incredibly conscious of her woman’s body. Her evening dress had a light inbuilt bra, now she was without one. Not that he could possibly notice. Except for the colour and the fineness of the shirt’s fabric she might just as well have been dressed in a sack.

  When she came into the kitchen to join him he shot her a cool look. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded, readjusting a rolled-up sleeve. “After a moment I didn’t like to continue using the hair dryer. It was making a watermark. I’ll let it dry naturally.”

  “Well you’re welcome to my shirt,” he said offhandedly. “Though you look a bit lost in it.” Now that was a sign of his control! But he was determined to put her at her ease, divided between a feeling of protectiveness and a fierce frustration. He wouldn�
��t want tests like this too often. “Sugar, cream?” he asked sleekly, noting she, too, kept her distance.

  “A teaspoon of sugar…”

  “…makes the medicine go down,” he finished, aiming a smile at her.

  For the first time she smiled back, her expression innocent, her blue-violet eyes on his face. “And I think I’ll have a little cream.”

  “Anything with it? We missed supper.”

  Instantly she was all apologies. “I’m sorry. I’ve brought you away from your friends.”

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  Though he only flipped a glance at her it had so much male sensuality in it, it nearly stopped Eden’s breath.

  Lang loaded the coffee cups onto a small silver tray and gestured to her to precede him into the living room.

  “I hope Robbie’s not frightened,” she said, staring out at the driving rain.

  “My bet is Robbie will sleep right through it,” he reassured her. “The house is air-conditioned. We all knew about the storm so the shutters will have been closed. Anyway, Maria is there. She’s pretty much his nanny.”

  “I’m glad. I’ve been worried.” Eden sat in an armchair and curled her legs under her.

  “Your toes look good enough to eat,” he observed laconically, handing her her coffee. She had beautiful limbs. Beautiful hands.

  “Dad was so mad at me,” she said wistfully. “I wish he could see my side.”

  “He was looking forward to having you.” He took the sofa opposite her, drawing in the desperate loveliness of her. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I can’t help it. I must have the capacity to hurt.”

  “And be hurt.”

  “Yes.” She bowed her dark curly head. “I never knew the situation with my father’s family was going to be so difficult. I guessed Delma wasn’t going to greet me with open arms. Not her husband’s newfound daughter some twenty years on. But I wasn’t prepared for her hostility. It’s not going to be happy-ever-after.”

  He swallowed a mouthful of the hot, fragrant coffee, set the cup down. “Delma will have to work that out. She’s not stupid. Blood binds you not only to her husband but to her son. Robbie couldn’t have accepted you more readily into his life.”

  “And I’m so grateful. I suppose we can’t have everything, right?”

  “The question is what are you going to do next?” He looked at her, unable to hide the desire that was showing in his eyes.

  It set off shock waves. Floods of feeling that rushed through Eden, along with her own hungers. “Oh God knows!” She couldn’t hide her vulnerability. “I’ve never felt so happy and so unhappy in my life.”

  “You know I’m in love with you,” he said, knowing there was no way he would give her up. “Obviously that’s proving too intimidating?”

  His actual admission made the breath back up in her throat. “Intimidating?”

  “You’re going to deny it?” He stared straight at her.

  “It’s not so surprising is it, Lang?” she appealed to him. “You’re a very dynamic man. There’s such intensity in you.”

  “So what am I doing wrong?” he asked sardonically.

  “Nothing. You’re perfect.”

  “Really?” One black brow shot up. “Your lack of trust had me nearly seething tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. What I said was a stupid off-the-cuff thing. Of course I trust you.”

  “Prove it.” His silver gaze lanced through her.

  “How?”

  She looked so alarmed he almost expected her to shoot to her feet. “Do you feel you don’t know me well enough to trust me?” he questioned.

  “You don’t know me, do you?” she countered.

  “I want to.” His eyes ravished her. “I want to know every little thing about you. Flesh, bone, mind and heart. Do you think you can ever allow me to do that?”

  At his glance such sensation raced through her, her back arched involuntarily. “What if you tire of me? It happens.”

  His voice resonated with the force of his passion. “You obviously don’t know how profoundly you’ve gotten to me. Do you want to come over here?” he asked, very slowly. “I’m the one waiting for you.”

  Her whole body began to blossom like a flower, petal after petal opening out to the sun.

  This was inevitable. She prayed she could handle it.

  Her heart pumping wildly she rose to go to him, aware his eyes were tracking her every movement. She had almost reached him when the phone rang so stridently it startled them both. The atmosphere was so intimate, so electric, the sound came like a gunshot.

  For a moment Lang contemplated not answering it, if he could speak at all, then he got to his feet, his eyes seeking Eden’s as he recognised the voice at the other end.

  He listened for a long moment then said, “She’s safe with me, Owen.”

  To Eden’s ears it sounded the most wonderful thing that had happened to her.

  She stood up, staring at Lang’s very serious face. “Is that Dad?”

  “He wants to speak to you.” Lang held out the phone reassuringly.

  Shaking inside, Eden went to take it. “Yes, Dad?”

  There was an explosion of apology at the other end. “Just do what you want to do, my darling,” Owen said finally. “We’ll have plenty of Christmases together.”

  Eden felt weak with gratitude for her father’s change of attitude. He seemed extremely repentant. “Don’t think I don’t want to spend it with you. I do,” she told him emotionally.

  “My dearest girl, I understand the bond you share with your grandfather,” Owen cut in, remorseful. “I understand and applaud your love and compassion. Lang has suggested to me it might be a fine thing if your grandfather and I could meet sometime.”

  Eden turned back to look at Lang, an extraordinary light in her blue-violet eyes. “It might go a long way to healing the wounds.”

  “So then, for you, I’ll see what I can do,” Owen promised solemnly. “Delma was upset with me as well when I told her. In fact she was very much on your side. I can be pretty awful at times.”

  “I love you.” Eden smiled through a shimmering haze of tears.

  “And I love you.” Owen’s voice was deep with emotion. “Now I’ll hand you back to Lang. In my view my most trusted friend. You can tell me what you think of him later,” he laughed. “Be happy, my darling.”

  “Dad doesn’t mind I’m going to see Grandpa,” Eden said wonderingly, walking slowly towards Lang as though he was the source of all love and comfort. “He even promised to meet him just as you suggested.”

  “That’s great news, Eden,” Lang said. “Both of them will find they’re happier.”

  “I feel like I’m floating,” she exclaimed with a sudden rush of joy.

  “Me, too,” he said, astonishing her. “Come and sit beside me on the sofa. I’ll go mad if I don’t make love to you. God knows how I haven’t so far.”

  Clearly he was waiting for her next move. She felt a little shy but extraordinarily physical, acutely aware of her woman’s body and its power. Love was an expanding force. Hope bloomed inside her like some marvellous vision of the future. “Dad even said Delma took my side for once.” She laughed, quite literally light-headed.

  “Try understanding a woman!” Lang said dryly. “Delma has her good side. She’ll settle down once you’re safely married.”

  “That would be wonderful if I could manage it.” Radiance filled her. “Marriage to the right man…”

  “Then you’d better not look past me,” he warned, looking squarely at her with those silver eyes.

  She hadn’t been fully expecting it. In fact she hesitated as though she wasn’t quite sure what he had said. “When you say things like that, how can I think properly?”

  “Do you want me to repeat it?” he asked crisply. His eyes were very brilliant as he looked at her.

  “Yes please.” Tears glinted though she was smiling.

  “Only if you come over here.” He held
out his hand very purposefully.

  She went to him quickly, almost at a run, flinging out her arms so he pulled her down to him in a passionate hug, lifting her like she weighed nothing, settling her across his knees, the full length of her long satiny legs exposed.

  “I love you, so help me,” he said passionately, tilting back her head. “You’re a continual delight to me and when I can’t have you a torment. Eyes as blue as morning glories. I knew I’d be saying this to you the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “You hated me then.” The soft radiance of her smile deepened.

  “That’s what I told myself,” he admitted wryly. “The reasons were very complex. I thought I was a man in control but you dazzled me. Set me on fire. Turned my ordered life upside down. For a time that threw me badly. Potentially you were another trauma. I’d been rubbed raw by the loss of my father and the effort I’d put into saving my family.”

  Tears welled into Eden’s eyes. “And they worship you for it. You’re everything to your mother.”

  “As she is to me. But to get back to you, my true, true love. Weren’t you the least little bit attracted to me?”

  She stretched to lock her arms around his neck. “Whoever loved that loved not at first sight? Isn’t that the way it ought to be?”

  “My God, yes!” He laughed with fierce joy, bending his head to look down into cloudless black-lashed eyes that reflected his image and the rare and beautiful depth of feeling that was in her. His breath caught in his throat at the prize he had won. He abandoned himself to triumph, bending his head to kiss her. Deeply, voluptuously, infinitely erotic so her slender arms fluttered helplessly to her sides like moths.

  He couldn’t stop. Slipping the buttons of his shirt so he could find her sweet, luminous breasts. Fruit in his palms. He could hear the deep, powerful purr of his own heart as his hard-won control vanished. Soon he found her secret centre, warm and glistening. Her very core. His need for her was truly wonderful, truly terrible. His breath was ragged, he couldn’t imagine wanting any other woman. Every nerve, every sinew, every drop of blood in him cried out for Eden. She was helpless in his arms, except her soft crooning was freighted with passion, an answering hunger as old as time.