No Longer a Dream

by Carole Mortimer

  Desperation seemed to imply fear. Did he realise how nervous it made her just to be in the same room as him? A whole weekend in his company was unthinkable!

  'I'm not desperate, Mr Steele,' she dismissed coldly. 'I just don't like being taken for a fool!'

  He looked as if he were about to say, 'Then don't act like one!', and then thought better of it. 'I've waited dinner for you—'

  'Oh, I'm not dressed to meet your father.' She looked down at the fitted denims and the sheepskin coat she still wore over her dark green jumper.

  'My father ate his meal in his room over an hour ago,' he revealed drily. 'So it's only me you have to impress,' he added.

  Her eyes flashed. 'Perhaps I could just go up to my room and freshen up…?'

  'Of course.' His eyes mocked her. 'I'll take you upstairs—'

  'Oh, but—'

  'Relax, little cat,' he mocked. 'I make it a rule never to seduce young innocents before I've eaten,' he drawled. 'I have to put my appetites in order of priority.'

  Cat hated being the object of his scorn, following him up the wide stone stairway to the second floor, and along a narrow corridor to a room at the far end of it.

  'How many rooms does this house have?' She peered curiously through the door he had just opened into the room, gasping as she saw the four-poster bed that dominated the room, with its brocade curtains the same as the ones at the long windows, the heavy furniture matching the bed. 'Is this real?' She stroked the polished wood of one of the four posts with an awed hand.

  'Or something manufactured for an uncouth American with more money than taste?' he drawled. 'It's real,' he bit out tersely. 'As is the rest of the furniture in the house; it was all bought at auction. As for how many rooms there are,' he shrugged. 'Who knows?' He turned to leave.

  'Caleb.' She reached out a hand and touched his arm. 'I wasn't implying you had had the bed made, I—I've just never seen an original.'.

  His eyes darkened as he looked at her, his expression softening. 'Neither had I,' he murmured.

  Cat once again had the impression he was saying more than the words implied. And then she dismissed the idea as being fanciful. It had been a very strange evening.

  'Cat—'

  'I think I can find my own way back to the lounge,' she assured him dismissively, her hand dropping back to her side. 'If you could give me five minutes?'

  He nodded distantly, whatever he had been about to say held in check.

  Five minutes or five hours, she trembled once Caleb had returned downstairs, wouldn't dispel the tingling sensation she had felt in her hand just from touching his arm! She was going mad! Where were her memories of Harry tonight, the warm glow she felt whenever she thought of him? He couldn't desert her now!

  But she knew that he had. She loved him, knew that she always would, but Caleb wasn't only forcing her to feel again, he was forcing her to live again. And she was afraid, so very afraid.

  She was also using up her five minutes—fast! She quickly brushed her hair, the snow having dampened its wildness slightly, deciding the denims and jumper would be fine to wear to dinner tonight. After all, she had only just arrived, and Caleb wasn't dressed in the least formally.

  She had, as she had said, a good sense of direction, but even so she knew it would be easy to get lost in the house, it was so big. But there had been no garishly modern changes to the house that she could see; even the central heating was unobtrusive, the water boiling hot a second ago when she had rinsed heir face. The house was filled with atmosphere; she could almost imagine entering the lounge to find long tables laid out with food, dogs on the floor to snap up the scraps and bones that were carelessly discarded, lusty men downing wine as they fondled the women on their knee, with a jaundiced Caleb silting at the head of those tables as he dispassionately tried to decide which of those women he would have in his bed that night. He would fit in very well with those wild, unprincipled times.

  'I'd love to know what's brought the flush to your cheeks and that sparkle to your eyes!'

  She stiffened, the spell broken as she stared down at Caleb as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, his clothes of black sweater and trousers showing her it was indeed modern times, although his expression matched the cynicism of that other Caleb. She continued her descent of the stairs. 'You have a beautiful home,' she told him with a politeness that revealed none of her previous turmoil.

  He straightened as she reached his side. 'And that put the flush in your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes?' he derided.

  Her mouth firmed. 'I always look this way when I'm hungry,' she snapped.

  'For what?' he murmured throatily, his hand on her arm as he led the way to the dining room.

  Cat came to an abrupt halt as she turned to look at him. 'If this is your idea of entertainment, Caleb, then I'd rather you didn't bother!'

  He gave one of those rare grins. 'You do absolutely nothing for my ego!'

  She turned away to continue walking in the direction of the double doors that seemed to lead to the dining room.

  'Nothing to say?' he taunted softly.

  'Nothing repeatable,' she bit out.

  'You are hungry, aren't you?' he mused.

  She glared at him, looking for the double meaning, the deliberate innocence in his widened eyes telling her there had been one. 'Caleb—'

  'Let's not keep Mrs McDonald waiting any longer,' he drawled as he pushed open the doors and preceded her into what was a much smaller room than the one she had been expecting, the oval table laid with two places that faced each other across its width, the fire and the five-candled candelabra at one end of the table the only illumination in the room. Caleb glanced ruefully at Cat's face. 'I think Mrs McDonald must have got the wrong impression when I told her there would be a young lady for dinner,' he said drily, reaching for the main light switch that would turn on the wooden chandelier above the table.

  'No!' Cat stopped him more harshly than she had meant to, colour darkening her cheeks as she turned away from his speculative gaze. 'I—it's nicer this way,' she mumbled awkwardly.

  'I think so.' He gave an inclination of his head, moving to pull out her chair for her to sit down before pressing the button next to the fireplace in signal for their meal to be brought through.

  She frowned at him across the table as he sat down. 'Norm—'

  'Is in his room,' he answered with satisfaction.

  'Why?' she frowned suspiciously.

  Caleb sighed. 'Not through anything I've said or done I can assure you,' he rasped. 'He only got in from the States a few hours ago, and—'

  'Today?' she gasped, remembering what the other man had said about how tiring he found those flights to be. .

  'Yes—today,' Caleb drawled.

  'He must be exhausted!'

  'He is,' Caleb nodded. 'And before you start berating me for working him too hard let me explain that the trip home was a personal one. It was his twentieth wedding anniversary—'

  'He's married?' she gasped.

  Caleb looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'Did he say or do anything on the way here that gave you the impression he wasn't a married man?'

  The colour left her cheeks to come back in a blush as she realised what he was asking. 'Just because you have the morals—' She broke off abruptly as he held up a silencing hand. A small, well-rounded woman bustled into the room, smiling warmly at Cat as she placed two steaming bowls on the table in front of them. Cat smiled back at her, liking the other woman immediately. 'It isn't true what they say about the "dour Scots",' she murmured, once the other woman had returned to her kitchen.

  Caleb laughed, a full-bodied laugh of enjoyment, his eyes warm, an enticing dimple appearing in his left cheek. 'What gave it away?' he mused. 'The mountains, Hector, Mrs McDonald, or the broth?'

  She looked down at the creamy-grey soup in her bowl. 'Is this broth?' Her eyes glowed.

  'Try it,' he encouraged.

  She was careful not to burn her mouth, finding the meat soup didn't
have as much taste as the manufactured varieties of soups but liking it anyway. It was hot and filling, and she really was very hungry. 'It's good,' she nodded after several mouthfuls.

  'You didn't answer my question about Norm?' he prompted hardly.

  Her eyes flashed. 'He was very friendly and nice,' she defended. 'He's obviously another man that takes his marriage vows seriously.' She reminded him of the accusation he had made at their first meeting about one of his directors.

  'Don't pin the break-up of my marriage on me, Cat,' he rasped. 'Deanna decided she didn't like being a wife or mother and walked out on Luke and me.'

  'I'm sorry,' she grimaced. 'Everything always seems to become so personal between us.'

  'Eat your broth,' he instructed gruffly.

  She was relieved to do so; everything did become too personal between them.

  She took a deep breath. 'I've decided I might as well stay on and meet your father,' she spoke at last, the companionable silence as they ate giving a false air of intimacy, her nerves getting tauter by the minute.

  His mouth twisted. 'What changed your mind?'

  She shrugged. 'I'm here now; it would be silly to return to London without meeting him.'

  'I think so,' he nodded.

  She gave him an impatient glare. 'When will I be able to see him?'

  'Breakfast tomorrow,' he revealed abruptly, refusing the dessert Mrs McDonald offered, Cat accepting a large chunk of the apple pie so that the poor woman shouldn't be upset. 'But he works during the morning,' Caleb added once the cook had gone. 'So you won't get to talk to him until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.'

  She frowned. 'It seems to me that I could have arrived tomorrow.'

  'Then who would I have shared this meal with?' he derided.

  'Caleb—'

  'Can you ski?' he smoothly interrupted as she seemed set to reprimand him once again.

  Her eyes widened. 'I've never tried,' she told him truthfully.

  'You will tomorrow,' he told her.

  'Where?'

  'The Cairngorms.'

  'Are we near Aviemore?' she asked excitedly.

  Caleb shrugged. 'I can't see any point in lying to you about it now. I knew once you got up here it would no longer be a secret.' He frowned. 'But I wanted you here anyway.'

  Cat reached across the table and placed her hand on the back of his, finding his flesh warm and firm to the touch. 'I'm really not going to tell anyone where your father is,' she promised intently.

  Black eyes stared into green, seeming to reach into her very soul and see the truth of her words. His hand turned over and he clasped her fingers in his own. 'Shall we go into the other room?' he suggested huskily.

  She couldn't look away, didn't even try as they walked through to the lounge, the overhead lighting firmly switched off before they both sat down on the sofa in front of the fire.

  They just sat there in companionable silence for some time, Caleb still holding her hand as they both stared at the pattern of the flames.

  'Cat.'

  She turned obediently at the quiet comment in his voice, lost in the dark sensuality of his gaze.

  'I know you're frightened,' he smoothed the hair bade from her cheek, 'and I want you to know that however far this goes,' he gently kissed one creamy cheek, 'I won't take you.' He kissed her other cheek before claiming her mouth, groaning low in his throat as her lips parted for him.

  It had been inevitable, she had known that from the moment she had allowed their meal to remain a romantic one. But she could no longer fight her need for this man's kisses, his hands on her body.

  'I fantasise about kissing you here.' Caleb deftly removed her jumper, gently easing down the straps on the silky white camisole she wore instead of a bra, her breasts bare and inviting. 'I love doing this.' He took one tip into his mouth, pulling on it in painful ecstasy. 'Don't stop me yet, little cat,' he groaned, before moving to the other breast.

  She stared down at his head against her creamy skin, his eyes closed in his enjoyment, dark lashes fanned out across his hard cheeks, not needing any reflection to watch him as he loved her, feeling a wealth of emotion for this man as he suckled like a child.

  Her own feelings were far from maternal as he increased the pressure of his mouth, her lips parted moistly for him when he raised his head to claim them.

  He followed her down on the length of the sofa as she moved on to her back, unbuttoning his shirt to pull the material aside, his hair-roughened chest arousing new sensations as her breasts nestled in the dark hair there.

  'Dear God!' Caleb wrenched his mouth from hers. 'Kiss me, Cat. Love me!'

  Her lips were tentative against the hardness of his chest, feeling the hard brown nub beneath her tongue, aware of the shudder that ran through his body as she kissed him in the way he had just kissed her. She knew her power over this man at that moment, even as she acknowledged his power over her, caressing each other now as their mouths met, the warm rasp of his tongue moving silkily into her mouth.

  It was just as if he had possessed her, the thrusts of his marauding tongue matched by the rhythm of his thighs moving against hers. He was keeping his promise not to make love to her, but she could feel the heated ache in her body building to a point of release, knew that if she didn't stop this now she was going to reach fulfilment just from the caress of his mouth and body. She bit down very gently on his tongue.

  'What? No, Cat!' he groaned at the regret he read in her eyes. 'No, no, no!' He buried his face in the side of her throat, rigid with desire as he fought for control. 'Yes.' He finally shuddered acceptance of the end to their lovemaking. 'Yes,' he sighed again, lying heavily against her.

  Cat lay beneath him not saying a word, too shaken herself to do more than just lie there.

  Finally he raised his head to look at her with eyes still dark with passion. 'I very nearly broke my promise to you as soon as I made it,' he acknowledged gruffly.

  'No, it was me,' she admitted shakily. 'I was going to—was about to—'

  'God, I wish you had. Cat,' he groaned. 'I would have liked to give you pleasure.'

  She swallowed hard, avoiding his eyes. 'I—I would like to get up now.'

  Caleb gently cupped her chin and made her look up at him. 'It isn't wrong to feel desire and pleasure, Cat,' he encouraged softly.

  'I know that,' she frowned.

  'But you're sorry it happened.' He swung away from her, sitting up to button his shirt. 'I'm not going to be as hypocritical,' he rasped. 'I'm not at all sorry!'

  Cat took advantage of his averted gaze to pull on her own clothing. Was she being hypocritical, pretending not to want his lovemaking? She was too confused to know any more, each resolve she made not to let him touch her broken at his slightest show of desire. She didn't recognise herself as the woman who reacted so wantonly in his arms.

  'Caleb—'

  'Go to bed, little cat,' he instructed gently. 'Dream of me.'

  Dream of him. She had done little else since she had met him. Except last night.

  And that night, too.

  She lay awake for a long time in the huge four-poster bed, that and the imaginings she had had of him as a feudal lord earlier in the evening making her sure that Caleb would come to her in her dreams again that night. Instead she was once again the distraught woman in the white nightgown looking in the darkness for her lover. And again he hadn't come to her.

  She awoke feeling irritable and frustrated. Not unlike the way she had gone to bed! Her body seemed to have demands of its own, was paying her back for denying it satisfaction the previous night.

  Her mood hadn't improved by the time she had showered and dressed in a black woollen skirt and pale green lambswool sweater. She wasn't going to risk making a bad impression on Lucien Steele at the outset by appearing in trousers, conscious of the fact that he might not approve of women wearing trousers.

  She was frowning as she walked down the stairs, the frown turning to a scowl as she saw Caleb in conversation
with Norm in the reception area. Caleb stiffened, and then turned to look at her, as if he had sensed her presence part-way down the stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her as he said something dismissive to the other man, Norm walking away after giving Cat a brief smile of greeting, a smile she half-heartedly returned.

  Why couldn't Caleb have looked at her and dismissed her as he had all those mornings ago!

  He had walked to the bottom of the stairs now, his arm resting on the bannister as he watched her descent, his eyes warm, a smile of welcome playing about his lips.

  'Caleb- '

  'Cat,' he cut in with firm indulgence. 'You look beautiful!'

  He gently pulled her down on to the last step, his arms about her waist as he held her gently into him. 'Let's say good morning properly,' he groaned, before his mouth came down on hers.

  All her irritation evaporated beneath the warmth of his kiss, and with a soft moan of surrender her body curved willingly into his, her arms going about his neck as she returned the caress.

  'That's better.' He looked at her with warm dark eyes. 'Good mornings sweetheart,' he said huskily.

  'Good morning,' she returned, knowing her cheeks were flushed, her eyes over-bright.

  Caleb seemed satisfied with the turmoil he had caused within her, smiling indulgently. 'Feel up to meeting my father now?' he teased.

  She didn't feel up to meeting anyone. Her legs felt weak, and she just wanted Caleb to pick her up in his arms and carry her back up the stairs, to his bedroom this time.

  'Yes,' she answered huskily.

  Caleb laughed softly. 'Don't look so nervous or he'll eat you alive!'

  Oh God, not another awe-inspiring Steele! After the way she had just melted into Caleb's arms she didn't think she could cope with it.

  'Come on,' he teased, his arm about her shoulders. 'I'll look after you.'

  Who was going to protect her from him?

  There was only one person in the dining room, a man seated at the long table, the thick hair completely silver as his son's would no doubt be one day. In profile Lucien Steele was as formidable as Caleb, still retaining the handsome good looks of his youth that had so captivated the beautiful Sonia Harrison. He looked as if he were still a physically powerful man, and as he turned to look at them Cat saw that his eyes were almost as black as his son's. And she saw something else as she gazed into those dark depths. They were the eyes of a dying man.