Charmed By You ((Destiny Bay Romances-The Islanders 5))

by Conrad, Helen

  “Do you really hate me that much, Heather?” he asked, his voice ragged with emotion, his hand on her shoulder in a rough grasp. “Can’t you unbend and let the natural bond between us take hold?” He kissed the side of her neck. “It’s right there you know. It’s natural, organic, and it’ll come back on its own if you’d only let it.”

  She pulled away. She couldn’t look into his face. Instead, she stared over his shoulder at the gathering clouds. His words made her ache for him, but she knew they were standing on quicksand. One wrong move and they would both be lost.

  “No, Mitch,” she answered, her voice like gravel. “I just want to leave this place.”

  He held her there for a long moment, then swore lightly and dropped his hand. “All right. We’ll go back.”

  His voice had been soft, but she could feel the anger boiling in him. It made her nervous, but she wouldn’t let him see her anxiety. She walked quickly back to the blanket and began gathering things to carry to the Jeep.

  The drive back to the village was made in silence. Heather felt a strange mixture of dread and elation. She’d actually managed to fend off Mitch. It was almost over now, this dreadful journey. He would sign the papers, and she would find a way out of here. What a relief.

  But at the same time, she knew the pain that leaving him would entail. He’d left her before. This time she was leaving him. It was going to hurt just as much.

  When they arrived at the village, it had the sleepy look of a town where afternoon siestas were the rule. No one seemed to be about. Mitch pulled the Jeep into the carport next to his clinic and jumped down, coming around to help her down as well.

  A few drops of rain had started to fall, fat warm drops that splashed as they hit the windshield.

  “We’ll get those papers now, shall we?” she suggested crisply, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on her arm. She raised her head high, looking him straight in the eye, afraid he would find some new delaying tactic if she didn’t keep the issue firmly before him.

  He nodded, not smiling, and turned toward the house. She followed, looking about uneasily. There was a sense of wild expectation in the air. It was only the storm coming, she told herself as she breathed deeply of the fresh wet air, but still she felt it all around. It was as though everything were waiting, breath held, for something so entrancing, so unusual, that nothing dared make a sound. All she could hear was the irregular splat of raindrops.

  Mitch led her to the back entrance, which opened into his living quarters, and she stifled the protest that rose in her throat. She wouldn’t do anything that might reveal her vulnerability. She’d shown him on the sea cliff that she could hold herself in check, despite the way his seductive moves ate away at her defenses. At least she’d proved she could be strong if she had to.

  He opened the door and held it to let her in. She entered, blinking for a moment in the gloom. The room looked much as it had the night before. She couldn’t help but take a quick look at the bed. It was neatly made. No evidence remained of what had happened there the night before.

  “The papers,” she reminded him as he followed her in. “Where are they?”

  “Heather...” He reached for her, but she was ready this time. She jumped nimbly out of his way.

  “No.” She shook her head sternly, trying to pretend indifference. “All I want is the papers.”

  He didn’t move, but he seemed to be devouring her with his eyes. A storm was gathering in him that mirrored the storm raging outside. She felt a tremor of fear at the clear sense of it.

  His gaze centered on her lips. “You wanted something else last night,” he reminded her, a quiet menace lacing his words.

  She flushed, hating him for using her desire against her. Wasn’t it enough that he’d humiliated her so successfully the night before? That he’d proven he could arouse her at will? Did he think he could use her weakness to manipulate her again?

  “Of course,” she said, forcing a breeziness she didn’t feel. “A bit of fun for old times’ sake.” She swallowed, fighting down the pain those words cost her. “But the fun is over, Mitch. It’s back to business.”

  He grimaced. “Is that all you think we’ve got left?” he demanded. “A little fun and then business?”

  She took a deep breath. This had gone all wrong. It was time to clear the air. “Mitch, you’re the one who left me. You told me my way of life was hateful to you, that it stifled you and smothered you and left you emasculated.”

  Emasculated. That word had hurt the most. Living with her had made him feel less of a man. She could never forget the damage that word had done.

  He was nodding slowly. “Yes, I said those things,” he admitted. “But I was talking about a way of life, not about you yourself. I’ve always wanted you, Heather. That never changed.”

  She searched his gaze, wondering how he could possibly say such a thing. “Then why did you leave with Dede?” she asked sharply, using anger to keep her voice from breaking. “Why did you choose her over me?”

  A look of genuine surprise crossed his face. “Is that what you think?” He stared at her, turned away, then back again. “Is that why... ?” A slow grin began a lazy trip across his face. “Did you really think Dede and I were lovers?”

  “What else was I supposed to think?” Suddenly all the anguish was back, filling her with incredible pain again, stinging through her bloodstream. “You had a distinct choice—Flagstaff and me, or this bloody island and Dede. You made your decision very clear.”

  “Oh, Heather.” He was laughing now, and that seemed even more dangerous than his anger. As he moved toward her, she backed away, reaching behind her to steady herself against the wall. “You little fool.”

  He was right, she was a fool, a complete fool for ever thinking she could come here and return unscathed. She’d come up against the wall for support, but now it was a trap. As she flattened herself against it, he placed his palms on it too, one on either side of her head, and leaned toward her, laughing softly, the picture of arrogant self-confidence.

  “When did you come up with this theory?” he asked, his face only inches from hers. “When did you decide I was sleeping with Dede? In Flagstaff? Before I left?”

  She nodded miserably, trying to keep a defiant fire in her eyes. “You were always with her,” she accused breathlessly. “Every night you and she were out to all hours.”

  A flash of anger contorted his face. “I told you we were working. Didn’t you believe me?”

  She raised her chin. “How could I when you talked about her all the time?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I respected her. She’s a marvelous nurse. Her sense of social consciousness was so similar to mine that we seemed to mesh perfectly.”

  “Only professionally?” All the bitterness of the lonely months tinged her voice.

  He glared at her. “Yes, Heather. Only professionally.”

  How could that be? She’d been so sure. “And after you left me? Left with Dede for Ragonai?”

  One hand took hold of her chin, fingers gripping harshly. “I’ve never slept with Dede, Heather. I’ve never even wanted to. Ever since I found you, there’s never been another woman. Can’t you believe that?”

  Could she? She wanted to so badly. But her mind was whirling. She didn’t know what to believe. If only he would leave her alone for a moment, let her get her bearings.

  But he had no intention of doing that. She read the determination in his eyes. He was going to prove something to her now. Was there any way she could stop him?

  “There may never have been another woman,” she admitted breathlessly, “but there have been other dreams. You’ve found other things more important than our marriage.”

  He hesitated, his glance wavering, and she knew her accusation had found a mark. Would he admit that his unconventional life-style was more important to him than she was?

  “Maybe we weren’t meant to be married,” he said curtly. “But you know damn well we were meant to
be together.”

  The rain was beginning a wild staccato on the tin roof. The sound seemed to echo the beating of her heart. “I don’t know anything of the sort,” she tried, but her brave statement came out as a hollow wail as he stepped closer.

  “Oh, yes, you do,” he countered huskily, so near her mouth that she could feel his warm breath against her lips. “Whatever other differences we might have had, we always had a physical pull between us that was stronger than anything I’ve ever felt for any other woman.” He leaned still closer, breathing sweet seduction into her ear, nuzzling along the line of her neck. She felt her breath stop in her lungs.

  “I don’t need Dede,” he rasped as his tongue flickered lightly in and out of her ear. “I don’t need any other woman. Not when I have you.”

  She reached out to push him away, but her hands seemed to slip across his shoulders instead, and suddenly her fingers were entwined about his neck and she was stretching up, her head back, her eyes closed.

  His mouth was trailing hot moist kisses along her neck, and his hand was slipping inside her dress, reaching for her breast, searching for the hardening nipple. She heard small animal sounds come from the depths of her own throat, and she couldn’t suppress them. He wanted her. He’d said he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman, and right now she believed him. It felt so right.

  She knew she should ask him why, if he wanted her so badly, why he’d ever left her. Why had he allowed her to divorce him? She should ask why Dede had free access to his home. But though the questions skimmed across her consciousness, she couldn’t catch hold of and examine them. She was whirling in the torrent of his sensual demand, just as the pounding rain was whirling in small rivers outside. She couldn’t seem to get her balance.

  “Stay with me, Heather.” He groaned into the hollow of her neck. His knee forced its way gently between her legs, and he pressed her harder against the wall, letting her feel every bit of his persuasion. “You’ve got to stay with me. I’m not going to let you go.”

  Her face was buried against his chest, and it seemed she was breathing in the heat of his blood, moving to the beat of his heart. “Mitch,” she managed to force out. “Mitch, I can’t think when you do this...”

  “Don’t think,” he murmured, pulling open the front fastenings of her dress so that her breasts could push free for his touch. “I’ll think for both of us. You know you can’t live without this any more than I can.”

  She gasped as liquid fire began to flow through her legs. “Mitch, I... What does this mean?”

  His mouth covered hers and his tongue slid across her teeth, then entered to find the dark hidden recesses of her response, exploring and caressing until she felt as though they were joined in some primeval bond of sensation that could never be severed again.

  The rush had started, and she couldn’t stop it. All reality had faded, leaving behind nothing but the smell of him, the feel of him, the sound of his breathing, all encompassed in his heartbeat, in his panther-dark eyes, and in his irresistible body.

  She twisted against him, reveling in the harsh scrape of his cotton shirt against her tender nipples, wanting to wrap her legs around him, to pull him into her, and hold him prisoner with her love.

  Chapter Six

  The rain was pounding on the roof with a deafening roar, as wave after wave of water cascaded from the sky. Heather felt something let go deep within her just as the clouds released their torrents, something wild and primitive that went beyond gentle love, that surged over the crest and plunged into passionate demand.

  She thought they’d dropped to the floor, but suddenly she realized they were on the bed, though they were still fully clothed. Her shoes were gone and she pulled off her panty hose like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Mitch reached to undo the last fastenings of her dress and pull away the bit of lace that clung to her hips. His fingers moved across her skin, finding places where her pulse beat wildly, soothing, caressing, inciting a riot of trembling responses. She writhed to his direction, reaching out to tear open his shirt, then unbuckle his leather belt, fumbling as she pulled impatiently at the zipper with shaking fingers.

  She thought she heard a low laugh as he helped her undress him, but she was wrapped in a mist of such ardent confusion that she had no full awareness of anything but the essence of the man beside her. She needed him, needed him now, and nothing was going to stand in her way. His mouth was burning across the soft swell of her stomach, the achingly tender curve of her thighs, and she was straining toward him, moaning softly.

  “Do you want me, Heather?” His voice was low and taunting, and she blinked up at him, confused. “Do you want me now, little missionary lady? If you do, you’re going to have to admit it to the world.”

  “Mitch...” She reached for him, but he drew back, away from her touch.

  “Admit it,” he insisted. “Say you need me. Say you need me more than food to eat, or air to breath. Say you can’t live without me.”

  “Mitch, don’t do this. Please come to me.” To her horror, she heard herself begging, but she couldn’t stop. She needed him, just as he said she did. But how could she tell him that?

  “Say it.” His voice was like the crack of a whip. She tried to focus on his eyes, but they burned into her and she withdrew her gaze.

  “Mitch …”

  “Say it.”

  He was moving further away across the bed, and she felt panic rising from the depth of her loins. He couldn’t bring her to this wild exaltation and then leave her, could he?

  It was true. She did need him more than anything else in the world. Why couldn’t she open her mouth and say the words?

  She tried. She licked her lips and breathed deeply, but no sound would come out. She was frightened of his withdrawal, but she was even more frightened of the vulnerability she would reveal if she told him what he wanted to hear.

  Suddenly she was angry. How dare he try to manipulate her this way! She rose up on one elbow, staring at his dark face. “Come back here, Mitch,” she said softly.

  A slight frown passed over his brows. “Say it,” he repeated stubbornly.

  “I’m not going to say it,” she flashed back, stretching higher and glaring at him. “I won’t be coerced.”

  A question shone in his glance, and she took advantage of his indecision to spring across the bed, taking possession of his prone body and pinning him down by the shoulders.

  “I do want you,” she told him huskily. “But I won’t say so just because you demand it.”

  He glared up at her for a moment, and she waited, knowing how easily he could throw her off if he wanted to. But she was sitting astride him, her naked legs holding his body, her naked breasts trembling above his face, and pure, raw desire was shimmering from his eyes.

  His breath was coming faster and faster, but a lazy grin began to soften his face. “There’s more than one way to say it, Heather,” he teased, “and I think you’ve just done an admirable job of showing me that.”

  He reached up and took her breasts in his hands, squeezing the nipples between his hard fingers, smiling as she gasped. “You want me; I want you. Can’t you see how much we need to be together?”

  With one deft movement he changed their positions, pinning her beneath his hot body, tormenting her with his masculine weight. Her mouth received his hungrily and she opened to him, crying out against his lips as he entered her. She wrapped her legs about him and let his ardent thrusts take her ever higher, higher into the heart of the storm that raged around them.

  A flash of lightning lit their rain-sheltered haven, followed moments later by a powerful roll of thunder. But Heather hardly noticed. She was lost in the special world only they could inhabit. As they reached the ultimate moment, Mitch’s muffled growl joined with her cry of triumph to celebrate the joining, and they fell back, exhausted, but still entwined in one another’s arms.

  Heather lay with her eyes closed, savoring the wonder of what they had shared. Her skin
still tingled with the sense of him; her thoughts still swam in a mist of love. She listened to his harsh breathing until it slowed and became so quiet that she could only feel it in the rise and fall of his chest.

  The rain had stopped, though there was still a rhythmic dripping of water drops from the leaves of palm and breadfruit trees onto the soggy ground. A freshness filled the air and she took it deep into her lungs.

  Still she kept her eyes closed. She was afraid to open them and face what she had to do next: leave. She couldn’t live here in this strange foreign place. She couldn’t live the sort of life Mitch had chosen. Besides, he’d never said he wanted to renew their marriage. He’d only said he wanted her to stay. He wanted her body. Did he want the rest of her? Could he even tolerate the rest of her? He hadn’t acted as though he even liked her any longer at the time they’d separated. How long would it before he felt that way again?

  “You see?” he said at last, breathing the words into her tumbled hair. “I didn’t lie to Lizzie. You are my lady. You can’t deny it.”

  She smiled and stretched luxuriously against him. “Lizzie is a pretty little girl,” she said absently. “Is her mother really going to be all right?”

  He rose up on one elbow to watch her. “Probably. She just has a virus. Her husband is gone a lot, and she has a hard time taking care of her four children all by herself, so she tends to get anything that’s going around.”

  He sighed. “Which, of course, makes her job only that much more difficult.”

  “That’s a shame.” Heather remembered Lizzie’s limp. “Is there something wrong with Lizzie? I noticed she had some trouble walking.”

  Mitch reached out to run a slow finger down the valley between her breasts. “She was born with a congenital disability—a club foot.”

  Heather met his gaze. “But can’t that be corrected? I thought handicaps like that were corrected routinely these days, particularly at birth.”