Scandal and Secrets

by Miranda Lee

  'And if I have, what's it to you? You don't really care about me. All you've ever wanted from me is what you got last night, so don't give me any more of your holier-than-thou crap. I'm the only one who's ever cared in this relationship. I loved you, Byron Whitmore, and I've no intention of letting you off the hook by letting you believe otherwise!'

  'Don't be so bloody ridiculous!' he rapped out. 'You never loved me, Celeste. You merely wanted me. But I became the one who got away, the one who wouldn't dance indefinitely to your tune. You've shown your true colors since then by surrounding yourself with a whole string of sexual puppets. But you've finally grown bored with them, haven't you? That's the answer I was looking for today, and the reason for last night. You need a real man again to satisfy you, a man who can control you, who can call all your bluffs and put you in your place.'

  'And where is that?'

  'Under me.'

  'You're an arrogant, presumptuous pig!'

  His laughter send a chill running down her spine and excitement along her veins. 'I've got your measure, Celeste. You can't fool me any more. Don't even try.'

  She flushed at the way he started looking her over. Despite the fact that she was dressed in a severely tailored business suit which hid her body well, his desire-filled gaze sent goose-bumps racing all over her skin. Her nipples peaked hard against the silk lining of the jacket and she felt the pull of her own desire between her thighs.

  'You were right when you said last night that we haven't finished yet,' he said in a low, threatening voice. 'But you were wrong to assume you had the controlling hand in this. Your fires for me are as hot as mine for you. Maybe even hotter. If they weren't, you'd have thrown me out by now. After all, I'm well aware of your capabilities in throwing out a man. I saw you in action at the ball.'

  'Something you'd be wise not to forget,' she countered, but rather shakily, she thought.

  His smug smile confirmed it. 'You had plenty of opportunity to use your skills on me last night but you didn't. That's rather telling in itself, don't you think?' When Byron started moving around the large desk, Celeste stiffened back in her chair, her eyes flinging wide.

  'Don't you dare touch me,' she rasped.

  He swung her chair round to face him, placing a hand on each armrest, effectively imprisoning her in her seat. 'You can always kick me in the groin,' he suggested drily. 'No? Then I'll take your lack of retaliation for an open invitation.' And he bent to kiss her quivering mouth.

  Celeste detested the way her heart leapt at this lightest of kisses, but she was quick to resign herself to the situation. Byron was right. Resistance to his sexual approaches was a waste of time. Humiliating too if she tried to fight them, only to surrender eventually like some wimpish victim.

  Her lips pulled back into a sexy smile under his, her eyes glittering boldly as they stared right into his. 'Do you think you might wait till lunchtime?' she murmured seductively. 'I'll cancel my lunch with Luke and meet you somewhere.'

  Her swift change of tack threw him somewhat, his head drawing back while his eyes narrowed with suspicion. 'Such as where?'

  'Don't you have a company suite at the Regency?'

  Byron stood up straight, his arms swinging back to his sides as he took a backward step. 'How do you know that?' he asked sharply.

  'I know everything about Whitmore's.'

  He gave a sarcastic snort. 'You never did fight fair, did you? Your coming into the billiard-room that day in that minuscule bikini was downright wicked. When you actually kissed me, I had no chance, did I?'

  Celeste let out a ragged sigh. 'You might not believe this, Byron, but seduction was the last thing on my mind that day. I was trying to make up my mind about something. I kissed you because I wanted to find out if I was over you.'

  He laughed. 'You got more that you bargained for, then, didn't you?'

  'I certainly did,' she said bitterly. 'For someone who proclaimed that he didn't want to rake over old coals, you have a habit of doing so.'

  'I guess I like to keep reminding myself of the type of woman I'm dealing with.'

  'Oh? And what type is that?'

  ‘Ruthless. Conscienceless. Vindictive.'

  'Vindictive ?'

  'Do you think I don't know why you revived that old feud between the Campbells and the Whitmores? It had nothing to do with what happened between our fathers. It was because of you and me, Celeste. I rejected you and you couldn't take it. You were the classic woman scorned. You set out to make me pay any way you could. And you succeeded. You succeeded very well. You almost brought Whitmore's to its financial knees. You also worked damned hard to make sure I never forgot what you were like to make love to. You flaunted your sexuality for all the world to see, but you didn't want the world to see it, did you? You only wanted me to see it.'

  A wry lop-sided smile curved her scarlet-glossed mouth as she rose from the chair. Byron stood his ground as she pressed herself against him, but Celeste had the immense satisfaction of feeling his shoulders square back, seeing the flash of near panic in his eyes. Oh, how easily she could turn the tables on him. How very easily.

  'You could be right, darling,' she purred, snaking her arms up around his neck and standing up on tiptoe to run her tongue-tip over his stiffly held mouth. 'You see, I've never found a man who can do for me what you do. You're the best, Byron. The very best. I don't think I will ever get tired of making love to you ... '

  His groan as he crushed her to him echoed in her ears, his impassioned kiss going some way to blocking the unbearable pain he had unwittingly evoked again. When he finally tore his mouth away he sounded as if he'd run a very long, very hard race. She was merely in a daze. Their power over each other was getting worse, she realized. Where would it all end?

  'Be there at one,' he muttered thickly into her hair. He didn't wait for an answer. He gave her one last impassioned glance then strode from the room, leaving the door open behind him. She walked over and shut it, shuddering as she leant with her back against it.

  She lay naked in his arms, her head lying in the crook of his left arm, his free hand lazily tracing patterns over her very relaxed body.

  Celeste opened heavy eyes to glance idly around the hotel bedroom. Their clothes lay tidily folded up on adjacent chairs, the sight of them bringing a rueful smile to her lips.

  She had insisted on undressing him herself, doing it slowly and methodically, then making him climb into the bed while she undressed herself. There had been no attempt at any erotic striptease. Celeste had been desperately trying to keep control over what was becoming more and more an uncontrollable situation for her. She hadn't been able to work all morning, her thoughts on nothing but being with Byron again.

  By the time she had climbed into that bed with him she'd wanted him immediately. Fortunately, his need had been similar and they had come together without any preliminaries. Now they lay together, two spent forces, waiting for the wanting to begin again. Celeste didn't think it would be long.

  'You haven't asked me to use anything,' Byron murmured as he stroked her. 'Is that wise?'

  Celeste cringed at the implication he was making. It was a perfectly understandable question, considering her reputation, but she still reacted badly to it.

  'For you or for me?' came her stiff reply.

  'Just answer the question, Celeste. I always used protection with Catherine. Have you been practicing safe sex as well?'

  'Very safe,' she said drily, thinking that not doing it at all was the safest sex she knew of.

  'I'm not talking about just being on the Pill,' he muttered.

  'I'm not on the Pill.'

  Every muscle in his body froze. 'Isn't that rather dangerous? I'm not too old to become a father, you know. Neither are you too old to become a mother.'

  Celeste slipped out of Byron's arms and sat up. 'I can't have any .. .' She broke off before the word more slipped out. 'I can't have any children,' she said tautly, then stood up. 'I'm going to have a shower.'

  She
was under the hot jets of water when Byron slid back the glass door. 'How long have you known that?' he asked brusquely.

  Not looking at him, she closed her eyes and tipped her face up into the water. 'Quite a while.' There was no way he could see her tears with the water beating into her eyes.

  He swore, and when she finally opened her eyes he was gone. Five minutes later, she returned to the room, wrapped in a towel. Byron was lying under the sheet on the bed, looking pensive.

  'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'Why should I?' She dropped the towel and slipped under the sheet next to him. When he gathered her in close, she shivered.

  'Because it explains so much,' he rasped. 'A woman who can't have children can do strange things. How did it happen, Celeste? Did you have an abortion and it went wrong? Was that it? Don't be afraid to tell me. I'll try to understand. Really I will.'

  Something inside Celeste shattered. Everything she'd vowed, she started to weep.

  'God, Celeste,' Byron groaned, and held her close, stroking her back. 'Don't. Please don't. I. . .I can't handle it. It's not like you to cry.'

  Rolling her over, he cupped her face and began kissing the tears from her eyes and then her cheeks till, with a muffled moan, he took her mouth with his, drinking in her sobs, biting at her lips and sucking on her tongue with a wildness that stunned her. Clinging to him, she begged silently for his compassion, not passion, but instead he surged deep into her body, surged till she was forced to forget, to think of nothing but his flesh filling hers, till her cries were the cries of a pained release, her moans the moans of despair.

  Afterwards, she refused to say any more on the subject of her barren state, no matter how often he asked, dressing quietly and going back to work. If Luke looked at her oddly a couple of times when they met later in the afternoon, at least he had the sense to say nothing.

  At five, Celeste had been about to pack up for the day and call a taxi, when Byron telephoned.

  'Have dinner with me tonight,' he urged.

  Celeste's eyes squeezed tightly shut as her heart skipped a beat. 'Aren't you afraid of being seen with me in public?' she returned, an edge in her voice.

  'We could have Room Service up in the suite again.' Like hell, she thought.

  'I'm sorry, Byron, I can't,' she said crisply, almost as though she was turning down a business dinner and not another assignation with her lover.

  'Why not?'

  'I have things I have to do at home tonight,' she said firmly.

  'What? Wash your hair? I'll wash it for you. I'll do anything you want. I'll even paint your toenails if they need painting.'

  Celeste groaned silently. What a fool she'd' been to surrender her body again to Byron. She should have known what would happen. The man had always been a predator. Now that he was a widower, there was nothing to stop him reverting to type. No guilt. No moral constraints. No nothing.

  'I'm having friends for dinner at home' she said thinking to herself that if Damian brought Gemma home as he said he would then it was close to the truth.

  'When are they leaving? I'll come over after they've gone.'

  Celeste gritted her teeth. 'Byron, I said no. If you wish to continue to see me then you have to learn to take no for an answer.'

  'I'm better at yes,' he growled.

  'Aren't we all?'

  'When am I going to see you again?'

  'I'll call you tomorrow at your office. We'll make plans then.'

  'I don't trust you to call. I'll call you.'

  'Whatever you like.'

  'I'd like to come over later.'

  'Byron, for pity's sake!'

  'If you had any pity you'd let me come over. God, I think I'm going crazy, Celeste. I can't think of anything else but being with you. You've bewitched me, woman.'

  'I'm glad to hear that, Byron. The boot's on the other foot at last.'

  She heard his sucked-in breath. 'You're a real bitch, aren't you?'

  'So people keep telling me.'

  'Add me to the list!' he snarled, and hung up.

  Celeste stared down into the dead receiver. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she hung up herself, then lifted the receiver up again and dialed for a taxi to take her home.

  Damain opened the front door before Celeste could get her key out.

  'Hi there, sis. I'm home.'

  'So I see,' came her dry reply. 'I take it you're not alone?'

  'Hey, why the attitude? You're the one who suggested I bring Gemma here.'

  Celeste sighed. 'Maybe I've changed my mind.'

  'Too late for that. When you meet her, you'll be glad.

  I did. She's a sweetie. That's what worries me.'

  Damian laughed. 'I've been a perfect gentleman.'

  'But for how long?'

  Damian pulled a face at her, then took her hand and pulled her along to the main living-room where Mrs Nathan Whitmore was curled up in an armchair looking so forlorn that Celeste's heart went out to her.

  'Celeste's home at last,' Damian said as they moved into the room.

  Gemma jumped, her legs shooting out from under her.

  'Don't get up,' Celeste told her, which brought a look of surprise.

  Is it my ultra-conservative clothes, Celeste wondered, that are making her look at me with those startled doe eyes of hers?

  Celeste conceded that with a smart business suit on and her hair up she was a far cry from the outrageously dressed siren who'd attended the Whitmore Opals ball. No doubt this girl thought her as disgraceful a person as her husband did. Not that Nathan could condemn anyone for their morals, or seeming lack of them.

  'And how are you bearing up, my dear?' Celeste asked gently. 'I take it things have been a bit difficult for you lately.'

  'I. .. Yes ... You could say that.'

  'Please feel free to stay as long as you like. We have plenty of room here.'

  'You're most kind,' the girl murmured. 'Your brother's been very kind too. I. . .I don't know what I would have done without him.'

  Celeste settled herself in a chair opposite. 'Yes, Damian is not all bad, despite his reputation.'

  Now the girl looked even more startled, with Damian quickly coming to his own defence.

  'With you for a sister, who needs enemies?' he mocked. 'Don't believe a word she says, Gemma. I'm a saint in wolf's clothing.' He came forward to perch on the arm of her chair, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  Gemma looked up at him with a slightly nervous smile, Celeste frowning as she took in how very lovely this child was. Those large velvet-brown eyes were captivating enough, but combined with that flawless olive skin, that sensual mouth and that gloriously thick dark brown hair, she was a stunner. Her attractions did not stop at her face, either. There was no hiding the lush fullness of her breasts beneath that soft green cashmere sweater, the slim line tan trousers she was wearing just as revealing of the rest of her shapely figure, including the tiny span of her waist and the swell of her quite womanly hips.

  'Not to worry, Gemma,' Celeste said briskly. 'I'll keep him in line. And so will Cora. You've told Cora we have an extra for dinner, Damian?'

  He gave her a droll look. 'Of course.'

  'Maybe you could make yourself scarce for a minute. I have something to say to Gemma.'

  'Such as what?'

  'If I wanted to tell you, I wouldn't ask you to leave,' she said drily. 'Perhaps you could go select some wine to go with our meal tonight. Gemma looks as if she could do with some relaxing.'

  Damian brightened at this suggestion, which only made Celeste more suspicious of his intentions. 'What a good idea! I'll go haunt the cellar. Do you prefer red or white, Gemma?'

  'White, actually. Riesling if you have it. Though Nathan always said that. . .' She broke off, tears immediately flooding her eyes.

  Celeste wanted to kill Nathan Whitmore at that moment. What a bastard! Taking this young girl, making her his then utterly destroying her. She knew exactly what that felt like. Byron had made her irrevocab
ly his in two short weeks. This devil had had months of marriage to brainwash this child both emotionally and sexually.

  What chance did she have of throwing off his dastardly influence, of ever being normal with any other man? Celeste recognized the type. This girl felt deeply, as she had felt deeply. No other man would ever do for her, just as no other man but Byron had ever done for Celeste. One only had to look at how she'd acted today, running to him when he'd snapped his fingers, giving him all he asked without asking for anything in return.