Читать книгу In Bed With...Collection - Emma Darcy - Страница 51
ОглавлениеBEAU leaned back against the door to the Rose Suite and shut his eyes in sheer anguish at having committed the worst folly of his life.
Trapped!
Trapped by the oldest method in the world.
Impossible for him to shun a woman he might have made pregnant. What’s more, if she had his child he was tied to her for life!
And he’d walked right into it like one of those suicidal animals—lemmings—that threw themselves off cliffs. No rationality to what he’d done. No stopping for wiser consideration. His brain had fused and animal instinct had taken over the driving seat. He should have shot himself in the foot before going into Maggie Stowe’s bedroom. It might have kept him sane.
Summoning up the last shreds of his utterly depleted energy, he pushed away from the door and plodded down the corridor to his own suite. One hell of a day, he thought, and hell’s fires were still burning. He’d be damned lucky if he wasn’t scorched forever from this night’s work. Never in his life had he lost his head so completely. Never! He had no answer to it.
Sweet relief to reach his own bedroom and crawl between the sheets. He was wrecked. In every sense. Maggie, the cat, had clawed him inside out and finished up with a dish of cream that would never run dry... if she was pregnant and carried it through. Which she would. Beau had no doubt about it. The way she’d checked his attitude about fatherhood made that course a certainty.
Not that he’d want her to sneak off and have an abortion. His child was his child. Getting rid of it was not an option in his book. All the same, he desperately hoped there would be no consequences from tonight’s madness.
In all fairness to Maggie Stowe, he couldn’t say she’d planned it. There was no way she could have anticipated his visit to her suite. He had to believe her claim that she hadn’t expected to see him, so she hadn’t set out to seduce him by wearing the sinfully provocative slip of silk and lace.
No, she definitely hadn’t planned it, but she was a dead-set opportunist. Why else would she have flaunted herself in a sizzling challenge to him? It was a carnal come-on if ever he saw one. No protest from her when he’d responded to it. No attempt to stop him. She’d been right with him from the start, revelling in the whole mad ride.
For a moment, his body gripped with the memory of how fantastic it had been, the incredibly intense excitement of... But it still shouldn’t have happened. Giving great sex was fine but it wasn’t all he wanted in a woman. For the mother of his child he’d want a few other attributes, especially someone he could trust!
And what did he have in Maggie Stowe?
A woman from nowhere!
Still, worrying about what couldn’t be changed wasn’t going to get him anywhere, either. Sleep was what he needed. He’d face whatever he had to face tomorrow. Besides, there’d be time before the pregnancy deadline for him to get a handle on Maggie Stowe. She couldn’t stay a mystery forever. The more he knew, the better equipped he’d be to make the right choices.
Beau blanked his mind and slipped into sweet oblivion.
The first day after the night of the disastrous mistake did not start well for Beau. Maggie failed to appear for breakfast. It was an ominous sign. They might have come to an understanding about her staying on at Rosecliff but goodwill had not been established. Sedgewick subtly let him know this was not a situation he favoured. The cold shoulder continued.
After breakfast, Beau took refuge in the library, a private domain where he could get on with his agenda for the day. He settled himself behind his grandfather’s splendid mahogany desk—used more for the business of keeping his social diary and planning charity functions than anything else. The computer, fax machine and photocopier in the far corner of the room had also been used for these purposes but they were handy for Beau, as well.
Top priority was to telephone Lionel Armstrong and get another investigation started. Happily the solicitor was in his office and took the call immediately. Beau related the facts he now knew about Margaret Stowe and demanded immediate action. Urgent action. And reports coming in as fast as possible.
“I want those employers milked of everything they know about her. Character references, background, even impressions if they don’t have facts. Photographs, records...whatever can be dug up.”
“Beau...” A hesitation. “...Is all this necessary? I mean...why go to town on her at this point? Is there good reason for it?”
Beau gritted his teeth. Good reasons abounded! Maggie Stowe might be the mother of his child. And there was still the missing million.
“Just do it, Lionel,” he bit out.
A resigned sigh. “Vivian wouldn’t listen to my advice, either. Makes me wonder what it is about this woman.”
“The point, Lionel, is I want to stop wondering.”
Beau had no idea when or how a pregnancy test could be taken but he had the strong feeling he shouldn’t let the grass grow under his feet while he was waiting.
“Put two investigators on it. One for Zabini’s Circus, one for Wilgilag. Time is of the essence,” he said emphatically. “Reports within a week would be good.”
“It will cost...” the solicitor began to warn.
“Irrelevant. Tell the guys to fax or phone me here. I want progress reports. Is that clear, Lionel?”
“Yes. Very clear. I’ll get two top investigators to work immediately, giving your precise instructions.”
“Thank you.”
He was trying to get his thoughts in order for a call to Helen Carter at the head office of his travel agency when there was a knock on the library door.
Maggie, he thought, and his heart did a weird somersault and sent a buzz through his veins. Steady does it, he sternly commanded. Wayward responses and wrong reactions could do untold damage. Control had to be maintained. Firm control.
First and foremost he had to establish goodwill and push table-sharing at meals, get things back to normal, do what his grandfather would have expected of him. Courtesy was the key. Courtesy and control. Best to stay right where he was, seated behind the desk and looking at ease.
“Come in,” he called, pitching his voice to a bright, welcoming note.
. Mrs Featherfield entered, carrying what looked like a large ledger under her arm. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important, Master Beau,” she rushed out, beaming a hopeful and eager smile at him.
He felt absurdly deflated, like having a prize whipped away from him at the last moment. It made him effusive in denial. “Not at all, Feathers. I always have time for you.”
“Oh! How nice!” She came forward with an air of happy anticipation. “I wanted to show you my scrapbook.”
Beau was surprised. “What have you been collecting?”
The book was placed on the desk in front of him. “They’re all the newspaper and magazine cuttings about Mr. Vivian. I thought you might like to see them. Especially the more recent ones, since you’ve been away so long.”
Beau opened the book and started leafing through. “This is amazing! I had no idea you were keeping such a record.”
“Well, they are lovely memories, Master Beau. Your grandfather was such a gentleman. Being in service to him was a real privilege.”
“I’m glad you felt that, Feathers,” Beau said warmly.
“Indeed, I do. Nanny Stowe used to say he turned life into a rainbow.”
With a pot of gold at the end of it?
Or was it simply colour after rain?
Beau frowned as he recalled Maggie’s claim of having led a very underprivileged life before coming to Rosecliff. Without much to recommend her, Sedgewick had said.
“Mr. Vivian loved having her with him,” the housekeeper went on. “And he was always determined she’d be the belle of the ball when he took her to those big charity dos.” She leaned over the desk and turned a chunk of pages. “Here they are!”
A photo of Maggie with his grandfather leapt out at him in full technicolour, his grandfather an elegant figure—as always—in a black dress suit and bow tie, turned admiringly towards a magnificent Maggie, wearing a stunning evening gown in black and burgundy, with exotic jet jewellery gleaming on her white skin and against her vivid hair.
“I remember that night well,” Feathers said fondly. “Mr. Vivian called us into the hall to watch her come down the staircase. He twirled his walking cane like a magician and called out, ‘Hey. Presto!’ and we clapped when she appeared. It was such fun! Mr. Vivian was delighted. He was so very, very proud of her.”
The scene described lingered in Beau’s mind. He could see it quite vividly and it made poignant sense of all he had heard about the relationship between his grandfather and Maggie. It also made him feel mean-spirited for thinking badly of her. Of course, his grandfather had been the ringmaster. It was completely in character for him. As for Maggie...well, who would knock back the opportunity to be turned into a star?
“What was she like when she first came here, Feathers?”
“Nanny Stowe?”
“Yes.” He turned to her with keen interest. “What impression did you have of her at the start...say, her first week at Rosecliff?”
No immediate answer...pensive...thinking back. When she spoke, the words came slowly. “It was like she’d been transported to another world and she couldn’t quite believe it. Excited by the adventure but frightened of putting a foot wrong. And surprised. Mostly surprised.”
“By what?’ Beau prompted.
Feathers frowned. “I think...that we’d let her fit in here. I had the sense she wasn’t used to belonging anywhere. What she brought with her....well, it was really pitiful. Some well-worn jeans and T-shirts, a couple of those cheap Indian dresses...” A shake of the head. “...The bare minimum of everything.”
I tend to travel lightly.
“Of course, Mr. Vivian soon fixed that. I suggested she throw out her old clothes but she wouldn’t.” Another frown. “She said they were the only things that were hers.”
The clothes Vivian bought me won’t fit into my usual life.
“She had no idea how to make the most of herself, either. Seeing her now, you would hardly recognise her as the same girl who came here. No make-up, her glorious hair stuck into a plait. And she was thin. Too thin. All bones. Mr. Vivian said she was a thoroughbred racehorse who needed grooming and training. I remember how surprised she was when he showed her how she could look. Like she couldn’t believe it was her.”
Vivian is gone.
So was his magic wand, Beau thought. It’s over for Maggie and she knows it.
You made me realise that today.
“She needed looking after,” came the motherly opinion. “That’s what I thought of her. She was like a waif of the world who’d never had anyone to look after her.”
It’s best I leave.
Beau was suddenly seized by a heart-squeezing suspicion. Maggie was gone. That was why she hadn’t come down to breakfast. She had already left. Packed the things belonging to her and stepped back through the looking glass to the reality that had been hers before coming here.
He leapt up from his chair and barely quelled the impulse to go racing up to the Rose Suite. Her bedroom was off-limits for him. Absolutely. If she was there and he went banging on her door...it would be gross behaviour, open to distasteful interpretation.
“Is something wrong, Master Beau?”
The concern voiced by the housekeeper burrowed through his inner agitation. He looked at her distractedly, his mind dictating that any meeting with Maggie would have to be conducted on neutral ground.
“Feathers, I would like to talk to Nanny Stowe. Would you please go and ask her to join me here?”
“You mean...now?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Shall I leave my scrapbook with you?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He could barely curb his impatience. “It is rather urgent I see her,” he pressed.
The housekeeper looked pleased. “I’ll be as quick as I can, Master Beau.”
She sailed off with an air of triumph. Beau was left with the strong impression she was in league with Sedgewick to set him straight on the subject of Nanny Stowe. However, neither of them could have any idea of what had transpired between him and Maggie last night It complicated everything. There was no longer a simple line to take. Maggie may well have decided the game wasn’t worth the candle if she had to take him into her life.
And if she had the missing million, why stay? Why put up with the aggravation of him when he couldn’t get a damned thing right?
Beau paced around the library like a caged tiger. He’d messed up big-time, not giving Maggie Stowe the benefit of the doubt. He would have to chase after her if she’d gone. Which could present one hell of a problem. A woman from nowhere could easily slip back into nowhere, especially with a million untraceable dollars at her disposal.
He’d hate not knowing about the child, if there was to be one. To be left wondering would be a dreadful torture. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been planned. His child was his child. A fiercely paternal possessiveness swamped every other consideration and Beau was on a feverish roll of resolution to pursue his bloodline to the ends of the earth, if necessary, when a knock on the door delivered a swift kick to his heart.
“Yes,” he snapped, expecting bad news.
Maggie Stowe stepped into the library.
Disbelief choked Beau for a moment. The subsequent relief at seeing her was short-lived. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and her gorgeous hair was confined to a plait, making the contours of her face sharper and the blue of her eyes more blue...guarded eyes, wary and watchful as though he were a wild animal who might strike at her, and she hugged the door, keeping her escape route handy.
Beau’s hand came up, a finger stabbing emphatically at her. “You are not to leave, Maggie.”
Her chin came up. Defiance flared. “I don’t believe you have the right to tell me what to do, Mr. Prescott.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, call me Beau! After what we’ve shared, it’s ridiculous to stick to formalities.”
A flush stained her cheeks.
He was doing this wrong. Beau knew it but somehow couldn’t stop it. Every time he saw her he went haywire. “Relax! I’m not going to assault you,” he shot at her as he turned aside to walk to the desk and put it between them. “Not that I did last night,” he added with a warning look over his shoulder. She was not going to pin that on him. No way! He might be guilty of a lot of things but he wasn’t guilty of taking an unwilling woman to bed with him.
“I have no intention of accusing you of anything, Mr. Prescott.”
“Beau,” he repeated with fierce insistence, glowering at her from behind the desk. “You are perfectly safe with me, I promise you. I just want to talk.”
“Surely the simplest solution is for me to leave.”
“No!”
“You could pretend this never happened. Out of sight, out of mind,” she quietly argued.
“That won’t work.”
She looked bleakly at him. “What will work? You hate this. You’re obviously upset. Why make a meal of it when I’m willing to walk away?”
“Is that what you were preparing to do? Without telling me?’ Just the thought made him feel hollow inside.
“No. I agreed to wait until we know,” she answered flatly.
“Why didn’t you come down to breakfast?”
“I overslept.”
“My grandfather wouldn’t have bought those clothes for you,” he pointed out. A flash of pride.
“No. They are rightly mine.” A flash of pride. “Vivian did pay me a salary and I bought some things for myself.”
“Why are you wearing them?”
“I feel more comfortable in them.”
“Because of me? Because of what I implied?”
She shrugged. “There’s no reason to dress up anymore.”
“I’ve spoilt it,” he said regretfully.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. I’m sorry. I really am.”
She stared at him.
He could feel her scepticism and the turbulence of spirit behind it. He held her gaze, projecting sincerity, determined she know he genuinely rued the way he’d treated her. Whoever she was, whatever she was, she’d given something special to the last years of his grandfather’s life and he did respect that.
“Please...I’d be grateful if you could overlook my manner to you regarding the clothes...and other things,” he said, desperate to break the tension between them. “I’ve been very wrong to cast any aspersion on what gave everyone here pleasure. Most of all, my grandfather.”
Her gaze slid away. Sadness was etched on her face. Beau wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know how without seeming to be threatening. He searched his mind for a more effective peace-offering and couldn’t come up with anything.
“I called a women’s clinic.” The soft words were directed at the carpet. It obviously took an act of will to bring her gaze up to his again and the resolution in her eyes didn’t quite cover the fear and anguish behind it. “I can have a blood test in four days. It takes one working day for the results to be determined. A week all up, and we’ll know one way or the other.”
She didn’t want to be pregnant. The realisation thumped into Beau’s heart. He’d been wrong about that, too. Whatever had driven her response to him last night, it wasn’t the possibility of having him father a child on her.
“They say a blood test is definitive,” she added.
“I’ll go with you,” he said, impelled to stand by her and give what support he could.
Her mouth twisted. “Don’t you trust me to do it right?”
He frowned, shook his head. “I just want to be there. Some people faint at having a blood test taken. You shouldn’t be alone. I’m involved in this.”
She looked at him quizzically, reassessingly, and Beau felt his pulse quicken with the hope he was getting through to her, touching a base that was more than physical.
Finally an ironic smile. “I guess it is a togetherness project. And it’s best you are with me to make sure everything’s correct. It removes all doubt.”
Practical. The hope withered. She didn’t trust him, didn’t believe he would actually be concerned about her.
“If the test is positive, I will look after you, Maggie. And the child. I’ll look after both of you.” he declared emphatically.
Again she stared at him. He saw her throat move in a convulsive swallow. “It’s my responsibility, too,” she said huskily. “You don’t have to feel...I don’t want to be a loadstone around your neck. And there’s nothing worse for a child than to feel... unwanted.”
As she had been.
An abandoned baby.
“I promise you it won’t be like that,” he said with a fervour that rose so strongly in him Beau had to fight the impulse to cross the room and enfold her in a comforting embrace, promising her all the security he could provide.
“Well, if the test is negative, there won’t be any problems,” she said flatly.
Beau felt his whole body clench in rejection of that outcome. It was utter madness, he told himself. She was doing it to him again, getting under his skin, twisting him around, raising instincts that raged through him, robbing him of any common sense.
He wanted the child.
He wanted her.
And it didn’t seem to matter that it made no sense at all.
Control and courtesy, his mind screamed, trying to hold on to the course of action he’d set himself. He took a deep breath, willing some oxygen into his brain.
“Maggie...could we start again?’ His voice was hopelessly strained.
She looked blankly at him. “Where?”
He tried to sort through the chaos she wrought in him and realised it was impossible to wipe the slate clean and pretend they were meeting for the first time.
“I’m sorry. I’ve given you every reason to think badly of me,” he said in wretched disarray. “I guess... what I want... is the chance to show I would be worth having around...if it comes to being parents.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “Yes. I would need to know that.”
“So, we have a truce?’ he pressed.
She slowly nodded.
Relief drained through him. He gestured his willingness to give. “Is there anything I can do for you today?”
She shook her head, still wary of him, unsure where this was going. Beau cautioned himself against pushing too far.
“Well, I have some business with my travel agency so I’d better get on with it. I may go in to head office but I’ll be back this evening. You’ll join me for dinner?”
“If you like.”
“Yes. And I’d feel better—everyone here would—if you’d wear whatever you’d normally wear for my grandfather. Please don’t feel uncomfortable with it. I don’t want to negate what he did.”
She heaved a shaky sigh. “Are you sure about this, Beau? I don’t like treading a minefield.”
She’d called him Beau. He smiled, struggling to project reassurance rather than the sudden rush of exultation he felt. “I’m all out of bombs, Maggie.”
The missing million could stay missing until further notice. He had other priorities right now.
“Well, I suppose a truce is a truce,” she said without much conviction. “Tonight then,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Having given the agreement, she slipped out of the library, closing the door quickly behind her.
It reminded Beau of leaving her suite last night.
Trapped.
The realisation struck. She was feeling it, too. With far more reason than he had! He wasn’t the one who had to carry the pregnancy, give birth, bear all the burdens of becoming a mother.
He had to try to make this waiting time easier for her. It was the decent thing to do. Besides, he needed to score some positive points. Whether a baby eventuated or not, there was something about Maggie Stowe that got to him and he couldn’t let her go. Not until he was...satisfied. Yes, satisfied. About everything.
