Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled With Rubies

by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker

  ‘Making sure you don’t run away while I take a shower.’

  ‘I hate the idea of being locked in,’ she protested hoarsely.

  ‘In that case you have two choices. Either you come in the bathroom with me…’

  ‘I certainly will not.’

  ‘Or you give me your word to stay put.’

  When she bit her lip and remained silent, he said, ‘Just as I thought.’ Taking the key, he dropped it into his pocket, promising, ‘I won’t keep you waiting long.’

  Fran watched the bathroom door close behind him with a tumult of mixed feelings…fear and longing, anger and anticipation…

  Her mind, her will, still fought against being coerced in this way, while adrenalin pumped through her veins, fuelling a growing excitement.

  She couldn’t deny that she yearned for him. But she knew that while tonight his lovemaking would be sweeter than wine, tomorrow, the knowledge that she’d been merely a substitute for Melinda would be as bitter as Dead Sea apples.

  However, if he was determined to take her, she would have little choice in the matter. He wouldn’t make any attempt to force her; she was certain of that. But then, as he’d already pointed out, he wouldn’t need to.

  Her body was more his than her own, and though her mind and her will would put up a token resistance, they would soon be overwhelmed and vanquished…

  The bathroom door opening brought her bolt upright.

  As Blaze strolled in she felt her heart lurch. She’d seen him naked before, but she had almost forgotten how beautiful he was.

  ‘Beautiful’ seemed a very feminine way to describe so masculine a man. But one dictionary definition of the word was, ‘delighting the aesthetic senses’, so it was apt.

  He had both strength and symmetry, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, long, straight legs and an elegant line to his spine.

  His smooth, healthy skin gleamed like oiled silk, while a scattering of crisp body hair pooled on his chest and vee’d down to his flat stomach.

  Though a tall, powerful man, he moved lithely, with an almost feline grace, and Fran held her breath as she watched him cross the room.

  He came and sat on the edge of the bed. His dark hair was slightly rumpled, a single lock falling over his forehead, and in spite of their brilliance his grey eyes appeared almost black.

  ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t look as though you were afraid of me,’ he said abruptly. ‘I know you want this as much as I do.’

  ‘One part of me does,’ she admitted. ‘But I hate the thought of just being a stand-in for Melinda.’

  ‘I can assure you that you’re not, and never will be, a stand-in for anyone. It happens to be you I want.’

  ‘Isn’t that because I’m the only woman here?’ she asked defiantly.

  Curtly, he denied, ‘No, it isn’t. If you don’t believe me, you can walk out now.’

  As her lips parted, he said flatly, ‘You’ll find the door isn’t locked. That was just a pretence.’

  Getting to his feet, he moved to allow her space. ‘If you want to go, this is your chance.’

  Scrambling off the bed, she headed for the door and turned the knob. It opened, confirming the truth of his words.

  There was nothing to stop her leaving.

  But did she really want to?

  She had been fighting herself more than him, but why keep on fighting when, as he’d already remarked, they were both free?

  He was the only man she had ever truly loved. The only man she would ever love. He didn’t love her, but then he hadn’t loved Melinda…

  And he’d said all she could have hoped to hear—‘It happens to be you I want…’

  So what was she to do? Walk away and congratulate herself on how strong she’d been? Or snatch the brief happiness of a night spent in his arms?

  Common sense said walk away. One night of bliss would only make her future seem greyer and emptier.

  But it would be grey and empty anyway, so why not have something wonderful to remember? For she didn’t doubt it would be wonderful…

  Closing the door carefully, she turned to look at him.

  His expression held triumph, and some other emotion she was unable to identify.

  ‘Decided to stay?’ he asked softly.

  Determined he shouldn’t crow, she said, ‘You offered to take my mind off things, and on reflection it seemed a better option than just lying awake worrying.’

  He grimaced. ‘That effectively puts me in the same category as all-night television or a good book. Come here, woman…’

  She obeyed, her body pliant in his arms.

  He lifted her face to his. ‘The very least you can do is give me a kiss to assuage my hurt feelings.’

  ‘Well, if it’s only a kiss you want…’ she said as flippantly as possible, while her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs.

  ‘I shall want a great deal more than that, but it will do for a start…’

  While he kissed her, his tongue touched hers, searching and tormenting, fusing the kiss and sending shivers of desire running through her.

  His free hand slid inside her robe, his warm fingers caressing her soft curves until he felt her response through the thin satin of her nightdress. Then one hand moved to cradle the back of her head, while the other untied the belt of her robe and eased it off.

  Kissing and nibbling his way along her jawline and down the length of her slender neck, he slipped the nightdress straps from her shoulders. A second later he sent it to join the pool of satin at their feet, before his mouth found the warm hollow at the base of her throat.

  The exquisite sensations he was evoking made her feel giddy, as if the entire world was swaying, and with an incoherent murmur she clung to him.

  Raising his dark head, he looked at her dazed face, with its parted lips and closed eyes, then he stooped and lifted her on to the bed, to continue his sensual assault.

  As well as a crimson and gold canopy, the carved four-poster had a luxurious mattress and soft pillows. Old and new going hand in hand. But the knowledge that Melinda had shared this bed suddenly intruded on Fran’s bliss, making her feel far from comfortable.

  Stretched by her side beneath the light duvet, naked flesh to naked flesh, Blaze was exploring the seductive curve of her breast when something about her stillness made him pause.

  Studying her troubled face, he asked with his usual perception, ‘What’s bothering you?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. I know something is. I can sense the tension. So what is it?’

  When she hesitated, he said, ‘Don’t worry, I think I know. You’re wondering if Melinda ever slept in this bed?’

  ‘Yes,’ Fran admitted.

  ‘Well, if it makes you feel any better, she didn’t. I always went to her room. Now, as I don’t relish making love to a woman whose mind is on other things, if you would give me your full and undivided attention…?’

  ‘I’ll be only too happy to.’

  ‘In that case I think I can promise you’ll enjoy yourself. As you haven’t been in my bed for over three years, and I need to make up for lost time, I intend to…’ His lips brushing her ear, he whispered his intentions.

  While she listened, a liquid core of heat formed in the pit of her stomach, and her nipples firmed betrayingly.

  When his mouth found the evidence of her arousal, he gave a little murmur of satisfaction and proceeded to make shudders of ecstasy run through her.

  A pearly grey dawn was filtering into the room when Fran opened her eyes. Blaze was lying beside her, one hand thrown over his head in an attitude of abandon, his fingers, with their neatly trimmed nails, curling into his palm.

  From a mind drugged with sleep and pleasure she recalled that his promise of delight had been more than kept, and her stomach clenched at the thought of his passionate and inventive lovemaking. He knew just where to touch, where to apply a little pressure to heighten and prolong every sensation.

&nb
sp; Afterwards, thoroughly sated, and too exhausted to worry about anything, she had slept like a baby in his arms.

  Now it was his turn to sleep like a babe.

  Propping herself on one elbow, she looked down at him, drinking in the sight of that beloved face, memorising this moment for when he had gone and she had nothing left to warm herself with but memories.

  His ironic eyes were hidden, and his bony nose and tumbled hair gave him a strangely boyish look, in spite of the dark stubble adorning his jaw. The thick lashes, seeming out of place on such a very masculine face, were so long and curly that she was forced to envy them, and his mouth, with its exciting combination of austereness and sensuality, always made her heart beat faster…

  As though her scrutiny had disturbed his slumber, he stirred. Without opening his eyes he felt for her with his hand and, pulling her down on top of him, murmured a long, interrogative, ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Mmm!’ Fran answered.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at her. Then, with a sudden swift movement she was unprepared for, he reversed their positions. Bending his head, he kissed her, and said, ‘That’s good, because I plan to do it all over again.’

  When she awoke for the second time she was alone in the big bed, and there wasn’t a sound. A glance at her watch showed it was almost one-thirty.

  Sleeping through the morning was getting to be a habit, she thought ruefully.

  Her body still felt languidly fulfilled and glowing with remembered ecstasy, but her mind, starting to grapple with hard, unpalatable facts, wasn’t nearly so euphoric.

  No matter what Blaze had said about wanting her, in the cold light of day Fran was convinced that almost any woman would have done to take Melinda’s place.

  If he’d cared in the slightest for her…

  But the knowledge that he didn’t had made sharing his bed bittersweet, and had brought almost as much pain as pleasure. As she had known it would do.

  One-sided loving was like a knife turning in the heart. Every minute she stayed close to Blaze, every time he made love to her, only served to drive the blade that much deeper.

  She had to get away, had to leave Balantyne Hall as soon as possible…

  Reaching for her robe, which along with her nightdress had been picked up and placed tidily over a chair, she pulled it on, and, seeing the bathroom was empty, headed for the living room.

  That too was empty, but the curtains had been drawn back and a bright fire burnt in the grate to combat the coolness of the storm-washed September day.

  Propped on the bureau, where the necklace had been, was a note in Blaze’s forceful hand. ‘Going to town. Expect to be back in time for lunch.’ Then, scrawled on the bottom, a repressive, ‘Don’t even think of leaving.’

  Her case was still standing where he’d left it, and, picking it up, she carried it through to the bathroom.

  Having cleaned her teeth and stripped off her robe, she removed Blaze’s ring and put it carefully on one of the vanity units before stepping under the shower.

  When she was dried and dressed, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, she found herself replacing the ring.

  As she started to brush out her long hair, all the worries she had been striving to keep at bay began to crowd in on her relentlessly.

  How could the necklace possibly be a fake? And had Melinda and Kirk really run off together?

  It seemed unbelievable…

  Fran was coiling her thick, silky hair into a knot when she heard the bedroom door open and Blaze’s voice call sharply, ‘Francesca?’

  The hairpins she was holding in her mouth—a teenage practice deplored by her mother—prevented her from answering immediately.

  She was thrusting in the last of the pins when the bathroom door was flung open and Blaze appeared on the threshold, looking both angry and alarmed.

  He must have noticed her case was missing, Fran realised, and, with everywhere being quiet, jumped to the conclusion that she had ignored his warning and somehow managed to slip away.

  For a split second his face registered relief at seeing her there, before a shutter came down. Then, his manner cool and impersonal, he informed her, ‘I’ve asked for some lunch to be sent up, so as soon as you’re ready…’

  ‘I’ll be out in just a minute.’

  When she went through to the living room he was sitting by the fire. A loaded tray was waiting on the table.

  As she took the chair opposite, he remarked, ‘You must be hungry, so I suggest we get our food while it’s hot. Would you like to start with some soup?’

  She shook her head, and, having accepted a piece of quiche and some salad, picked up her knife and fork. Happening to glance up, she noticed his eyes were fixed on the ring.

  Answering her uncertainty, he said quickly, ‘I’m pleased to see you’re still wearing it.’

  The quiche was delicious, but with so much on her mind Fran’s appetite had totally deserted her, and she had to make an effort to force it down.

  As soon as their coffee cups were empty she turned to Blaze and asked anxiously, ‘Is there any news?’

  ‘It’s confirmation rather than news. And from your point of view none of it’s good.’

  Bracing herself, she said quietly, ‘Then you’d better tell me the worst.’

  Leaning back, he stretched his long legs. ‘Though I was certain Richard couldn’t be mistaken about the necklace, the first thing I did when I got to town this morning was make a private visit to Al Cockburn, my insurance assessor.’

  ‘And it is a fake?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  Despite the fact that she hadn’t held out much hope, Fran felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach.

  Helplessly, she said, ‘I didn’t know. Truly I didn’t.’

  ‘I believe you. I was watching your face while Richard was doing his stuff. There was no trace of guilt or awareness, and I’m sure there would have been if you had known.’

  She took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I still can’t really credit it. I mean…it just doesn’t seem possible. William Bailey is the most honest man I’ve ever met. He would never have been a party to such a thing.’

  ‘What if he didn’t know?’

  Though the last thing she wanted to do was implicate William, honesty made Fran shake her head. ‘He’s been a goldsmith dealing with precious stones for over forty years, so surely he would have realised if he’d been given fake rubies to reset?’

  Voicing a thought that had occurred to her the previous evening, she added flatly, ‘You must have guessed they were fake, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for Mr Henderson’s opinion.’

  ‘Though I distrusted the whole set-up from the word go, Varley might have got away with it for a while longer if I hadn’t had a direct tip-off. You remember the phone call I received during dinner on Friday night? Well, the anonymous caller suggested then that fake stones had been made. When I asked him why he was taking the trouble to warn me, he said, “Because I owe that b…Varley one. He stole my wife.”

  ‘Yesterday morning I went to town, intending to get the necklace checked out…’

  So that was why he’d been carrying it.

  ‘But Cockburn wasn’t there and I didn’t want to waste any time. That’s when I thought of Richard. The rest followed on logically. As soon as I knew there was a good chance that the necklace was a fake, and neither Melinda nor Varley had turned up here, I began to get the picture.

  ‘I’d realized from the first that Melinda didn’t like some of the clauses in our marriage contract, but rather than lose the chance of being a rich man’s wife she’d gone along with them…

  ‘You said you would stick by Varley if he was made penniless, but Melinda isn’t like that at all. She cares about money. I always knew that if I lost everything I had, she would probably go too. At the moment, however, I’m wealthy enough to provide whatever she wants, so I couldn’t see her giving it all up to be with a man who, however much she might fancy him, wa
s on the verge of bankruptcy.

  ‘But a man with rubies worth millions in his possession was a different proposition.’

  Her voice just above a whisper, Fran asked, ‘So you think Melinda knew about the fakes?’

  ‘Oh, she knew all right.’

  Something about his conviction made her ask, ‘You don’t think they planned this together?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I think. In her own way, Melinda is just as unscrupulous as Varley…’

  Yes, she could well believe that, Fran thought.

  ‘And as neither of them liked the idea of being poor,’ Blaze continued, ‘they decided to do something about it.’

  Her voice not quite steady, Fran asked, ‘Then you’re absolutely certain they’ve run off together?’

  Noting the quiver, he answered more gently, ‘I’m afraid so.’

  All at once fiercely glad, Fran felt her eyes fill with tears. Though Blaze didn’t know it, he’d had a lucky escape. Melinda’s stated intention of reneging on the marriage contact would only have brought discord and unhappiness.

  At least now he had a chance of finding another woman who would give him the children he wanted…

  Seeing Blaze’s eyes fixed on her, Fran looked hastily away, trying not to blink. She was forced to, and in spite of all her efforts twin tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks in tracks of shiny wetness.

  ‘Damn Varley!’ Blaze said harshly. Getting to his feet, he pulled her into his arms, murmuring, ‘Don’t cry…Don’t cry…’

  His concern, coming on top of everything else, was her undoing, and she began to weep in earnest.

  Cradling her head against his chest, his mouth buried in her hair, Blaze held her until the sobs had died away.

  Regaining control, and ashamed of her show of weakness, Fran lifted her head and prepared to leave the comfort of his arms.

  Looking down at her, he wiped away the tears with his thumbs, before letting her sink back into the chair.

  ‘I know you think you love him, but, believe me, he’s not worth crying over. Sooner or later you’ll have to face the fact that he’s no good. From the start I was sure he was up to something, and for a while I thought you might well be a part of it. Now I’m satisfied that Varley was just using you, and quite ruthlessly.’