The Rich Man's Blackmailed Mistress

by Robyn Donald

  Kain felt an unwanted tug of sympathy. If that was true it might explain a lot.

  He hadn’t planned on bedding her quite so soon. Not that it would make any difference; she’d clearly been ready, and making love had done exactly what he wanted—made her acutely aware of him. When Brent returned he was going to be in no doubt that Kain and Sable were lovers.

  His cousin would be angry, perhaps even grieve for a while, but eventually he’d realise that he’d got off lightly. Especially when he realised that Sable had probably planned to bleed him dry before she left.

  She said now, ‘But you don’t miss what you’ve never had. I’m so sorry about your parents.’

  Her dark eyes were warmly sympathetic, her tone quiet and sincere.

  ‘It happened a long time ago.’ He knew he sounded brusque, but even now the memory of his mother’s scream as they’d hurtled over the bank had the power to lift the hair on the back of his neck.

  The sudden loud irruption of an engine turned both their heads. ‘What the hell?’ Kain said lethally, and came to his feet in a swift, explosive movement.

  The vehicle roared on past the house and down to the beach—a farm quad bike, Sable saw as she scrambled up too, with three teenaged boys perched on it, their faces alight with pleasure.

  ‘Who are they?’ she asked.

  ‘Nobody who should be here.’ He strode inside and when she followed him she heard him say into the telephone, ‘…would never give permission for quads to be used on the beach or in the dunes.’ He paused to listen to whoever was on the other end, then said curtly, ‘No, I’ll go down.’

  He put the telephone down and said to Sable, ‘Stay here.’

  Torn, she hesitated, then firmed her mouth. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘I don’t need you,’ he said curtly.

  There came a grinding sound, a yell quite different from the jubilant ones of a few seconds previously, and then silence as the engine sputtered out.

  Kain said something she was glad she didn’t quite hear, then picked up the phone again, speed-dialled and barked, ‘They’ve crashed the quad. Get Vanessa down here fast,’ into it before slamming it down. Eyes hard he looked at Sable. ‘Come on—but not if you’re going to be useless. There could be blood.’

  There was. He moved very fast for a big man, getting there ahead of Sable, who panted to a stop as she took in two sprawled bodies, both ominously still. One had been flung free, but the other was trapped underneath the vehicle. The third youth was bending over the upturned quad, trying to haul it off his friend. He looked up as they ran towards them, his face white and fearful.

  ‘I can’t move it,’ he said in a thin, high voice, and choked back a sob.

  Kain ordered, ‘Sable, see to the kid on the ground. Check his breathing and then stop the bleeding.’

  She dropped to her knees beside the boy—fifteen or sixteen, she guessed, and he was alive, thank God, but he was unconscious and his stertorous breathing worried her almost as much as the ugly wound to his thigh that was pumping out blood in great jets.

  For a moment she thought she might faint. Overcoming nausea and dizziness by sheer willpower, she looked around for something—anything—to staunch the arterial flow, then remembered the instructions she’d received at her high school first-aid course and pressed her fingers above the wound, hoping that would stop that ominous spurting.

  But the blood still surged out. Anxiously she scanned his face. Was he getting paler? He’d lost enough blood for this to be a real emergency.

  Tourniquets were dangerous, but it looked as though this was going to need one. First though she’d try straight pressure to the wound. Praying she was doing the right thing, she tore off her shirt, wadded it into a pad and pressed it over the jagged tear in his skin.

  Within seconds it was obvious it wasn’t going to work; her stomach heaved as blood kept welling remorselessly through the material.

  She gritted her teeth and thanked the embarrassment that had made her wear something with long sleeves. Hands shaking, she twisted the sleeve around his thigh above the wound, cursing steadily and silently when the wet material slipped and knotted, refusing to tie. About the only thing she could remember was that the knot had to be one she could release.

  Afterwards she thought she’d held her breath until the blood flow began to ease. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she sighed, and glanced over her shoulder.

  Kain was hauling the quad off the other boy, the muscles beneath his T-shirt bulging with the effort it took.

  ‘Be careful,’ she whispered, and gasped when he finally got it off.

  Kain dropped to his knees and examined the youth beneath it, his frown deepening. The third boy stood to one side, his chest heaving with exertion, his face anguished.

  Kain reached into his trouser pocket and started talking crisply into his cell phone. A few seconds later he snapped it shut, looked at her, and came across in two strides, ripping off his shirt as he came and throwing it at her.

  ‘Put it on,’ he ordered. ‘How is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, but he needs more than simple first aid,’ she told him, struggling into the shirt. A faint musky fragrance floated around her, and for a moment the stench of blood receded; oddly comforted, she turned back to the boy on the ground.

  Worriedly she said, ‘I think he might have a fracture, and he was losing blood awfully fast. I’ve put a tourniquet on it, but I have no idea how long it’s safe to leave it.’

  Dimly she heard the high pitch of her voice and drew a ragged breath, cutting the words short. The boy on the ground probably couldn’t hear her, but babbling like an idiot was stupid and counterproductive. Forcing herself to speak steadily, she ended, ‘But we can deal with it. How is the other boy?’

  ‘The quad is off him.’ Kain too was being circumspect. ‘My farm manager is on his way with his wife, who’s a registered nurse and I’ve just called the rescue chopper. They said not to move either of them.’

  Her patient was stirring, opening eyes as round and innocently cornflower-blue as a child. ‘Mum?’ he whispered, then frowned and his lashes fluttered down.

  ‘What’s his name?’ Sable asked of the other boy who’d followed Kain across and was standing awkwardly watching.

  ‘Nigel, but we call him Corky,’ he said, his voice cracking.

  ‘Corky.’ She leaned across the boy, projecting complete confidence into her voice. ‘Corky, you’re going to be all right.’

  He frowned again and groaned. ‘Hurts,’ he muttered, turning his head restlessly.

  ‘You’re going to be all right,’ Sable said, projecting confidence into her voice. ‘Just hang on, Corky. You’re going to be fine, but we have to wait for the helicopter. It won’t be long now.’

  She glanced over; Kain had left her to go back to the boy he’d rescued, and something about the set of his broad, bronzed shoulders made her shiver. The third youth shifted from foot to foot uncertainly, looking up with an expression of deep relief when a four-wheel drive came tearing down the hill.

  It carried the farm manager and his wife, who took over with brisk competence. From snatches of overheard conversation Sable discovered that the two hurt boys were brothers, staying on the farm with the one who was hovering miserably by. His pale, shocked parents soon arrived in another vehicle.

  Corky seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, but whenever she stopped talking he frowned again and tried to turn his head towards her. Sable stayed with him, exhorting him to hang on, telling him that the chopper was coming soon, that all he had to do was keep going.

  Her voice was strained by the time the sound of the helicopter coming low and fast over the hills brought a sharp sigh of relief. After that it was a controlled bustle until both boys were loaded into the chopper. Accompanying them was the woman they were staying with; her husband had already rung their parents who were heading towards the hospital.

  The chopper took off in a haze of sand and noise. Sable stood limply by, wa
tching it, acutely conscious of Kain’s arm across her shoulders. She relaxed, letting herself sag against him.

  ‘You did well,’ his farm manager’s wife told her.

  ‘Are they going to be all right?’

  The older woman frowned. ‘I don’t know. Young Corky is probably OK, but Sandy…’

  The sound of another engine turned all their heads. ‘The police,’ Kain said crisply.

  The policeman asked questions and took photographs of the scene, asked Sable and Kain more questions, and finally took his departure.

  Sable said, ‘I think I’d like some coffee.’

  ‘Me too.’ Kain stooped to pick up her gory shirt. ‘Will you be able to save this?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she said, shuddering.

  He caught her hand in his. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Her knees felt distinctly wobbly, and she was grateful for his strength and warmth as they walked back up to the house. They were almost there when she said, ‘Do you think they’ll make it?’

  ‘Corky should, even though he’s badly shocked,’ he said curtly. ‘The other boy’s in a worse state.’

  She shivered; the helicopter staff had been so careful, loading both boys onto stretchers specially constructed for spinal injuries.

  It must have been horrible for Kain; he’d seen his parents die, and then to deal with this…

  Clearly he didn’t want to discuss it. In silence they walked up to the house and the cold remains of breakfast. He surveyed them with distaste. ‘I’ll make coffee,’ he said, ‘and cook something else.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said swiftly.

  ‘Nevertheless I’ll make toast. You’re a bit shocked and you need something. We’ll both have sugar in our coffee too.’

  Stomach churning, she pulled a face but said, ‘Toast will be fine, thank you.’

  ‘I take back what I said about blood,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘You coped very well. I’m sorry about your shirt.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said dismissively, then added on a worried sigh, ‘I just hope I helped and didn’t make things worse. I know tourniquets aren’t a good thing except in the direst emergencies but I couldn’t stop the bleeding any other way…’

  He looked down at her and without volition she walked into the arms that opened and then closed around her. He hugged her for a long moment, letting her bask in his human warmth and strength.

  Deep inside her, some inner tension eased a little.

  Perhaps, she thought as she recalled the two boys lying so still on the sand, he was taking comfort from her closeness too. The accident must have brought back his parents’ deaths, with who-knew-what hideous memories.

  Eventually he said, ‘You did well—you deserve the credit for saving young Corky’s life.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ she said into his chest. ‘If I hadn’t been there you’d have had the other boy making a tourniquet and applying it.’

  ‘We were busy getting the quad off. Corky would have bled out before we got to him.’

  She shivered. ‘How can we find out whether or not they make it?’

  ‘I’ll ring Geoff—the manager—tonight. He’ll have the latest details.’ He let her go and in a rigid, aloof voice said, ‘Right, let’s get coffee and toast going.’

  Back to square one, she thought, repressing a shiver.

  It was too easy to let herself forget that Kain was cold-bloodedly using her, and the magical comfort of his arms nothing more than a chimera.

  She didn’t entirely blame him for believing she’d blackmailed Mr Frensham’s clients. Derek had been cunning, and because the case had never come to court there was no evidence to exonerate her. Sometimes at night she still woke terrified, returned by her dreams to the days when she’d been sure she’d go to prison.

  When the truth came out she’d been so relieved she’d just wanted to leave it all behind her. Now she wished she could fling proof of her innocence in Kain’s face, force him to apologise.

  And that, she realised as they worked together to make the coffee and toast, was a really scary warning sign. Kain’s good opinion of her didn’t—shouldn’t—matter. The last thing she needed in her life right now was to fall in love with Kain Gerard.

  Hadn’t she learned her lesson? She’d been shattered to find out that Derek had used her to gain access to his grandfather’s files. Not just that, either; he’d quite deliberately set her up. She’d thought she was heartbroken, and since then she’d deliberately kept away from all emotional entanglements.

  But it hadn’t been a broken heart she’d suffered—more, she thought now, humiliation because Derek’s betrayal had stripped away her fragile confidence as a woman.

  Well, she’d fought back, but falling in love with Kain would be a disaster, with heartbreak its inevitable result.

  All right, she told herself as she gulped some coffee, so no falling in love.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Turning her to face him, he scrutinised her. ‘You’re too pale.’

  Hair lifting on the back of her neck, she looked up. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I just needed some caffeine.’

  He held her eyes for a moment, then let her go to pick up the newspaper, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that those ice-coloured eyes had discerned her thoughts.

  For the rest of the day Kain was solicitous but reserved. They walked along the beach—away from the scene of the accident—and he told her about the revegetating of the dunes with a native plant.

  After lunch he closeted himself in a study while she read out on the deck. When the sun began stroking her face with golden light she got up and eased herself into a hammock slung from a huge pohutukawa branch. It looked like being a fantastic summer, she thought sleepily, and somehow managed to doze off.

  When Kain came out, he frowned as he looked around. Some small part of him relaxed when he saw her gracefully sleeping in the hammock. His gut tightened. Damn, he thought with cold disgust, last night should have sated him, but he still wanted her!

  Right now, in the hammock.

  Making love to her had whetted his lust, not satisfied it. He could feel the hunger, a feral, consuming urge to slide his hand beneath the shirt that had rucked up, giving him a glimpse of the white skin above her waist.

  He’d just finished talking to the boys’ mother, who’d rung to thank him for his help. ‘Sandy’s still unconscious, but Nigel came to, and he—he said an angel told him to hang on, not to give up,’ she’d told him, her voice thickened with tears. ‘I’d like to speak to her, thank her.’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s not available,’ Kain said, making up his mind instantly. No way was he going to introduce Sable to Corky’s—Nigel’s—mother. Sable had done her best for the boy, but that didn’t mean that she was safe to introduce to a woman who felt so beholden to her.

  So he said smoothly, ‘I’ll convey your thanks to her.’

  ‘She saved his life—and I don’t mean putting the tourniquet on his leg and knowing what to do with it, although of course that helped.’ She dragged in a shuddering breath. ‘Nigel said all he wanted to do was go to sleep but she kept talking to him, and he really wanted to be able to open his eyes and see if she was as beautiful as she sounded.’

  Her voice had risen slightly, almost as though she was asking a question.

  He’d said formally, ‘Mrs McCorkindale, I’ll tell her that you thank her. Do keep me in touch with your son’s progress, won’t you?’

  Now, looking across at Sable’s relaxed face, he wondered if he was being foolishly cautious.

  But dealing well with an emergency was no indication of high moral standards, he thought grimly.

  An angel, Corky had called her. Oh, he thought cynically, the innocence of the young…

  He started down the steps to the hammock. Sable must have sensed his arrival because she woke, lashes fluttering up to reveal those dark eyes, deep enough to drown in. She smiled, and breathed his name in a husky, yearning cadence, holding out her arms t
o him as though he was all she’d ever wanted.

  Kain’s blood surged through him; he bent, then the sound of an engine penetrated the fog of desire in his brain. Cursing the interruption, he straightened and turned away. ‘Someone’s coming,’ he said curtly.

  Appalled, Sable pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, biting it once before she scrambled out of the hammock.

  The newcomer arrived on a tractor, clearly someone from the farm. While Kain went off to talk to him Sable shot inside and splashed her face with cold water. She refused to meet her eyes in the mirror, but when she heard Kain come back she went out with head held high.

  ‘The farm manager,’ he said, examining her with a gaze clear as burnished ice. ‘He’s been given permission to take the quad away.’

  She said abruptly, ‘I want to go back to Auckland now.’

  His mouth curved in a sardonic smile. ‘Wiles not working, Sable?’

  It took every ounce of self-control she possessed, but she parried that cynical gaze. ‘I just think it’s a little petty to be carrying on our private war when two boys are fighting for their lives.’

  ‘And I think it’s more than cynical of you to use their accident as an excuse.’ He ignored her sudden pallor to finish, ‘Very well, we’ll go. Back to my apartment.’

  Sable bit her lip. There was no escape; she was a prisoner of Kain’s will and ruthlessness, and his flinty, formidable determination to make sure Brent didn’t fall any further into her despised clutches.

  Desperately she said, ‘I could go to the police and tell them you’re forcing me to move in with you. Or to the press.’

  One black brow climbed in ironic amusement. ‘And end up in the newspapers as a hysterical idiot? I’d tell them that we quarrelled, and you were so upset you ran to them.’

  They stood measuring gazes across an impassable distance. Frustration welled up inside her, and a weariness of spirit that sapped her strength. She said levelly, ‘I suppose you’re enjoying this.’