by Various
Kat gasped.
The other hand was inching its way down over her body once more and this felt like pleasure and punishment all in one. It was lingering provocatively on the swell of her belly and now it was skating down to the soft fuzz and the fork at her thighs—which instantly parted as if she were a puppet and he was jerking her strings. His fingers danced briefly on the warm cushions of her thighs and Kat held her breath…wanting him to touch her—not there, but there…where she ached so much that she began to squirm restlessly.
Waiting for an objection which never came, Carlos gave a low and savage laugh as a feather-light fingertip alighted with unerring precision at the hot, hard nub of her femininity. Felt her buck as pleasurable sensations rocketed through her.
‘Oh!’ she breathed.
‘Oh, indeed.’ Carlos groaned as he began to rub her sensitised flesh, watching her with almost clinical detachment as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm. He knew that she wanted him again—and he wanted it too—indeed he was hard enough to explode. But something stopped him from entering her body a second time. Something which niggled at the back of his mind and filled him with disquiet. But he carried on with what he was doing as he leaned to whisper in her ear.
‘You know that this should never have happened?’ he demanded. ‘We’re too different—we come from different worlds. Do you understand?’
‘I…don’t…care!’ she gasped, greedy for him now. Wanting that amazing feeling to wash over her body once more and wanting the hard pressure of his kiss.
His finger still applying its remorseless rhythm, Carlos leaned over her and kissed her at the very moment of her orgasm. His lips quietened her soft squeal of delight and briefly he closed his eyes as she clung to him—her moment of vulnerable trust making him want to melt right into her. But he extricated himself from her arms as soon as it was decently possible. ‘Go to sleep now,’ he said roughly.
Pulling the sheet over the distraction of her naked body, he hardened his heart to the confusion in her blue eyes and the temptation of her embrace. More out of duty than passion, he lay down beside her, but he did not take her in his arms. Just lay there, listening to the sound of her breathing. At last, its rhythmical heaviness told him that she had drifted off, and his mind was able to focus on the unbelievable truth.
That for the first time in his life, he had neglected to protect himself while making love to a woman.
Chapter Nine
IN THE morning, of course, Carlos was gone. It came as no surprise to Kat to discover that there was nothing but an empty space beside her among the tangle of bedclothes. For hadn’t he begun to distance himself from the moment he’d…She bit her lip and blushed with the memory. The moment his big body had shuddered inside hers and he had moaned something soft and fervent in his native tongue.
His very scent seemed to be in the air around her and it clung to her skin like a sensual perfume. Like a starving person who had enjoyed the most delicious meal, Kat found herself reliving every glorious moment in Carlos’s arms. He had touched her everywhere. She found herself glancing down at her naked body, somehow expecting it to look different after what had happened. But it didn’t. It just felt different. Or rather, she did. All soft and glowing and aching. Kat swallowed as she got out of bed and stared in the full-length mirror at the bright-eyed and tousled-haired woman who gazed back at her.
She had lost her virginity to Carlos Guerrero—and despite the fact that it had been a rapturous experience for her, on his part he had seemed furious. Maybe it was just a myth that men liked virgins, or maybe Carlos was just a rule to himself. But she still had to face him—and she would not crumple with any kind of shame in front of him. She would not.
Showering her newly sensitised skin, Kat dressed and went up on deck, though her heart was beating nervously as she walked out into the golden Mediterranean morning and prepared to face her lover.
But as she busied around fixing breakfast, she heard no sound to indicate that Carlos might be awake and ready to start work at the unearthly hour he always chose. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen—and for one awful moment Kat experienced a sensation of panic. What if…?
What if he’d simply gone off on his little motorboat like he had the other day? Left without saying goodbye, feeling unable or unwilling to face her in the cold light of day? Maybe regretting that the seduction had ever happened and trying to work out the most diplomatic way of extricating himself.
Kat cast her mind back to the previous night, remembering that after she’d told him all about her stepfather’s death, he’d announced he intended to sail back to shore. And that he would no longer be keeping her on board, against her will. He’d told her, quite kindly, that he would send her on her way, without forcing her to work for him any more.
But that had been before he had taken her virginity, she reminded herself—before bringing herself up short. Because Carlos didn’t take anything. She had given it to him—and what was more, she had given it to him eagerly.
And things had changed. She didn’t feel as if she was on board against her will. She wanted to be here. But there was a reason for that, and Carlos was that reason.
She felt her stomach flip as he walked out on deck at that precise moment, carrying a file of papers in one hand and his laptop in the other. The dark glasses he wore hid his eyes but his face was as enigmatic as it always was. Her heart began to race erratically as her gaze ran over him, trying to conceal the hunger she felt, and the warm aching awareness she felt in his presence.
Was it normal for a woman to feel like this when she had just made love for the first time? she wondered. To experience strong feelings of emotional attachment towards the man who had shown you what real pleasure was? To feel all fluttery in his presence—and for your breath to catch in your throat, making breathing quite a feat?
‘Buenos días,’ he said, putting the papers and laptop down on the table. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I…well, yes,’ she answered awkwardly, wondering what the protocol was—whether he would come over and take her in his arms and start to kiss her.
He didn’t. He simply sat down at the table and began to pour a cup of the coffee she’d just made. ‘Like some?’ he questioned.
Kat swallowed down her disappointment, pride making her nod her head and force a smile as if the thought of a cup of coffee pleased her more than anything else. But inside she was hurting as the absence of a kiss or a hug told her as clearly as words that he regretted what had happened last night.
She took the cup he slid towards her. In a way, she might have preferred it if he was being angry—at least anger might have indicated that he felt something towards her. But this…this cool air of near impartiality was making her feel as if she had no substance at all. As if she hadn’t gasped out her pleasure while his powerful body had filled her. And surely such cool indifference meant that he couldn’t wait to be rid of her? So tell him you want to leave before you have the indignity of him asking you to go.
‘So,’ she said, careful to keep her voice steady. ‘What time do you estimate we’ll reach shore?’
Carlos’s eyes narrowed—because this was not the reaction he had been anticipating. Women always clung to him like vines the day after he’d made love to them, pressing their bodies against him and urging him back between their soft thighs. Sometimes he succumbed and sometimes he didn’t. But he always expected a come-on.
So why were Kat Balfour’s bright blue eyes shuttered by the long sweep of her ebony lashes, and the lady herself doing a very good impersonation of an ice queen? And why was she talking to him in that cool and careful way, as if she was a completely different person from the one who had cried out her pleasure in his arms last night? Unexpectedly, he felt irritated.
‘What are you talking about?’ he questioned.
‘You said that we would be sailing for shore today. You offered to fly me back to England—even America. Remember?’
‘Yes, I remember,�
� he said slowly. ‘But that was then. Things have changed now, Kat—you must realise that.’
Trying to keep the hope from her voice, Kat quickly put her cup down before she slopped hot coffee all over her lap. ‘They have?’
‘Of course.’ For the first time, he recognised that the reality which had deprived him of sleep for much of the night had not even occurred to her. But then, why would it? This was a whole new territory for her. She was probably still getting used to the way her body felt and had given no thought to the potential bombshell it might now be concealing. He now had to think about the best way to put this. Only there was no best way, he realised. Just the bald, blunt truth. He stared at her. ‘You do realise you could be pregnant?’
Kat’s world stopped as the word spun. Round and round in her head it went. ‘Pregnant?’ she repeated blankly, as if it was something he had plucked at random from the dictionary.
Carlos’s voice roughened. ‘That is one of the consequences of having unprotected sex,’ he said, and saw her mouth open in distress. ‘Mea culpa, mea culpa!’ he exclaimed bitterly, and slammed his fist on the table so that his cup half jumped out of its saucer. ‘I blame myself! I was the experienced one. I was the one who should have used something. Who should not have been so overcome by lust that I failed to protect myself. Better still, I should have walked away.’
He was still trying to come to terms with what he had done. That of all the people in the world, it should have been this blue-eyed heiress who had succeeded in making his legendary control dissolve. The kind of woman who epitomised everything he despised. And he had taken her virginity. Her purity lost on the bonfire of his lust. Contrition didn’t come easily to a man who rarely considered himself to be in the wrong, but for once in his life Carlos recognised that contrition was due. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.’
‘If it makes you feel any better, I feel exactly the same,’ said Kat quickly, but inside her heart lurched with pain. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d waited years and years to have sex—and every fairy-tale hope she’d attached to it was being systematically smashed by the Spaniard.
Oh, the physical expectations had easily been met—in fact, they’d surpassed her wildest dreams. It was this grim aftermath which was threatening to erode that ecstatic recall. She didn’t want apologies and regrets that it had ever happened—she longed for him to take her into his arms and comfort her. And maybe kiss her too. Tell her that he adored her, leaving her free to admit that he was already occupying a sizeable place in her heart, despite all her determination not to let him.
Well, it’s your own stupid fault, tormented the voice of her conscience which she had been failing to quieten all morning. It was you who was hell-bent on having this man to be your lover. And he made it clear that you were the kind of woman he despised, so you have only yourself to blame for the consequences.
Carlos looked at her, thinking how pale and pinched her face looked this morning. And suddenly, his imagination conjured up an image of his seed—one of the many seeds he had planted in her last night—growing into a baby. A baby. Beside his coffee cup, one hand balled into a tight fist as a strange, nameless emotion caught in his throat. ‘Our feelings on the subject are irrelevant,’ he said unevenly. ‘What we have to decide is what to do next.’
‘Well, I want to get off this boat as soon as possible,’ she put in, determined to beat her own retreat before she was evicted. ‘Just the way we’d planned.’
Carlos narrowed his eyes. You and me both, Princesa, he thought. And not just because the idea of her working on his yacht now seemed intolerable after everything that had happened. Last night had been a spur of the moment thing—a gesture of comfort which had escalated into something else. Being cooped up on board with her—having once tasted the pleasure of her delicious body—would stretch his resolve to breaking point. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not again. It wouldn’t be fair. Certainly not to her. And in the meantime…
‘When will you know?’ he demanded.
She stared at him blankly. ‘Know?’
His black eyes were fixed on her face. Didn’t her rich-girl’s education provide basic classes in biology? he wondered bitterly. ‘Whether or not you’re carrying my child.’
Colour flooded into Kat’s cheeks, because this question seemed almost as intimate as what they had done together last night. And bizarrely, the thought of a tiny, black-haired baby with golden-olive skin—a miniature Carlos—did not fill her with the dread and fear she would have expected. Instead, she felt an unbearable sense of longing wash over her and she shook her head in slight disbelief. How crazy was that? Letting her mind do a few swift calculations, she stared at him. ‘In about two weeks.’
Carlos didn’t react, and neither did he point out the obvious. That they had chosen her most fertile time to make love. ‘In that case, I think you should stay here, with me,’ he stated flatly.
Kat stared at him, trying desperately to keep the naked hope from her eyes. ‘Why?’
He took off his shades then and, for the first time, Kat noticed the dark shadows beneath his ebony eyes and the undeniable strain around his sensual lips. As if he hadn’t slept a wink.
‘Where else are you going to go?’ he questioned.
Had he intended to make her sound like some piece of unwanted luggage which had turned up on his doorstep? Twisting her fingers in her lap, Kat thought about her options. ‘My family own a couple of apartments in central London. Or there’s always…home…’
But as she thought of her mother’s gatehouse or of the magnificent Balfour Manor itself, her voice trailed off unconvincingly. Was that because nowhere ever really felt like home and never had, except for that halcyon period in Sri Lanka, before Victor died? She’d never experienced that real sense of belonging which other people seemed to take for granted. Of knowing her place in the world, and where she fitted in. But if sleeping with Carlos had succeeded in making her feel even more alienated, she was certainly not going to let him know that. Kat lifted a defiant chin. ‘I can always go there.’
‘No, you can’t go there,’ he contradicted firmly. He had noticed the unmistakable tremble of vulnerability on her lips—and it suddenly occurred to him that maybe Kat Balfour was not the woman he had thought her to be. ‘Not with this preying on your mind. People will notice that you are pale and distracted and they will want to know why.’
‘And of course I won’t be able to tell them, will I?’ she demanded hotly. ‘Because that might just compromise the mighty Carlos Guerrero’s integrity!’
He flinched, unable to deny her angry accusation. ‘It might just create a whole host of unwanted problems for you as well, Princesa,’ he answered quietly. ‘Particularly if it isn’t true.’
‘And if it is true?’ she questioned, her voice rising a little. ‘What, then? Won’t that pose even more problems?’
There was a long pause as he tried to imagine Kat Balfour giving birth to his baby, and when he spoke his voice sounded empty. ‘Of course it will, but nothing that can’t be worked out. And in the meantime…’
Hesitation was not something she associated with him, and Kat looked at him with a sudden nervous trepidation. ‘What?’
Black eyes regarded her and Kat thought how suddenly cold they had become.
‘I think it would be better for both of us if we viewed what happened last night as a one-off,’ he said softly.
Suddenly, despite the blazing heat of the Mediterranean sun, she found herself shivering. Better for both of us, he had said—but that was surely a lie. It was better for him, that was all. He was obviously the kind of man who could swat away memories of a woman once he’d bedded her. Whereas she…why, she was in terrible danger of concocting fantasies about her Spanish lover, if she wasn’t careful. But somehow she nodded, even managed to conjure up a faint smile. Sometimes she had seen her sense of pride as a burden, but now she saw it as her saviour.
‘Much better,’ she agreed calmly. Two
weeks of waiting and wondering if there was a baby on the way—and all the while she and Carlos would be like polite strangers. Could she go through with it? Or would the effort of maintaining such a pretence drive her mad?
Yet the alternative was far more daunting. Stuck in Balfour Manor or one of the London apartments with such a massive secret eating away at her.
‘Why not just regard the next couple of weeks as a kind of holiday while you wait to find out?’ he continued coolly. ‘The kind of holiday you first envisaged when you were brought here. You can lie around on deck, doing nothing more taxing than sunning yourself by the pool, and reading magazines. I’m sure you can find enough to amuse you.’
The words hung in the air and mocked her. He made her sound like some spoilt little girl who needed to be entertained. But that was how he saw her, wasn’t it—even now? How he’d always seen her. Some vacuous little airhead.
Well, damn Carlos Guerrero. She would go crazy if she had to mooch around on deck acting as if there wasn’t this great time bomb waiting to go off.
‘I don’t want to lie by the pool reading magazines, Carlos,’ she said slowly.
His eyes narrowed with surprise as he stared at her. ‘You don’t?’
‘No. I’d like to carry on cooking for the crew. That is what I’m supposed to be here for.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Entirely serious. I was just starting to get into it—and there are plenty more things left for me to learn. So if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get on with the preparations for today’s meals.’ The decision which had clearly surprised him now empowered her enough to give him a serene smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.’
Carlos stared at her, his eyes narrowing with frustration. What the hell was the matter with her? She hadn’t flirted or pouted—and now she was proposing to carry on working!
He felt the sudden leap of desire as she picked up her coffee cup, and he lifted his hand in a silent gesture of command, dampening down the voice of reason which was demanding to be heard.
