Читать книгу The Balfour Legacy - Ким Лоренс, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 32

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.

‘I want you eating your lunch up here with me today,’ he informed her silkily. ‘Understand?’

Kat stared into the shuttered black eyes, convinced that his autocratic statement had more to do with possession than because he actually enjoyed her company. Wasn’t it just a demonstration of his power over her—and could she possibly maintain this air of nonchalance if she had long periods of being alone with him?

‘As you wish,’ she said carelessly. ‘You’re the boss after all.’ And she headed off towards the galley.

Carlos was left looking at the empty space she left behind with a feeling of disbelief, and it was several minutes before he was able to lose himself in his work.

But he wasn’t deaf to the sounds of laughter which occasionally drifted upwards from the galley, and as the morning wore on, he found that his mood was growing increasingly sour. So that by the time Kat appeared, bearing a bowl of salad and some sort of pasta dish, his nerves were frayed and he felt the slow and relentless beat of frustration.

‘Hungry?’ she questioned with a smile which sent his pulse rate soaring.

‘I can always eat, Princesa.’

Sitting down opposite him, Kat wondered if he knew that her heart was racing erratically or that the desire to touch him felt almost like a physical pain. What on earth were they going to talk about, when all she could think of was how it felt to have his warm skin next to hers. Especially when he was behaving as if she was completely invisible. Pretend you’re at some tedious social function and have just been sat next to the guest of honour.

‘Why don’t you tell me how you got into bullfighting in the first place?’ she enquired politely, doling out a spoonful of pasta onto one of the plates.

There was a pause. ‘I thought I told you I don’t like talking about it?’ he snapped.

‘Did you? Okay. Then let’s try something else.’ She picked up a dish of salad and held it towards him with a polite smile. ‘Tell me about your business interests instead, Carlos. How you got started, how you made the jump from bullfighter to international tycoon—that must be quite some story.’

Black eyes were narrowed at her in disbelief. She sounded like one of those women he occasionally ran into at diplomatic parties—the kind who had been schooled in making polite small talk to a variety of guests. And Kat would have grown up learning how to do that too, he recognised. ‘I don’t want to talk about my damned business either.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve got to talk about something over the next couple of weeks, haven’t we? Otherwise what else are we going to do?’

Carlos stared at the blue-black gleam of her ebony hair and felt all his good intentions dissolving by the second. Her blue-eyed beauty and breezy attitude were shattering his equilibrium and making a mockery of his determination not to touch her—but when he stopped to think about it, why had he insisted on her joining him for lunch unless it was to do precisely that?

‘Put the dish down, Kat,’ he said slowly.

‘What did you think I was going to…?’ But her bravado suddenly deserted her as she saw something written on his face—a look which pierced her heart and her body like an erotic arrow. It was desire—raw, undisguised and urgent. ‘C-Carlos?’ she questioned, her voice and her hand shaking as she put the pasta down. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

He was on his feet now, moving with the lithe grace of some dark panther as he stalked towards her, as if he were the predator and she his prey. Almost roughly, he pulled her into his arms and Kat stared up at him in confusion.

‘But you said…’ she whispered in confusion.

‘To hell with what I said—I’ve already broken every rule in the book for you, Kat Balfour, so why not break one more and have done with it?’ he demanded, as his mouth came down hungrily on hers.

The kiss was hot, breathless. Two mouths meeting and mingling with urgent greed. Kat shuddered as her hands flew to his shoulders while his own snaked possessively around her waist. She tried telling herself that his stark declaration of desire hadn’t contained a single word of affection, and surely she shouldn’t settle for that. But as his lips continued to sweetly plunder hers, all her doubts just melted away. Sucked into the powerful vortex of newly awoken desire, she found herself wondering just where all this was going to lead. Up here, on deck…surely he wasn’t planning to…to…

But abruptly, he terminated the kiss and, catching hold of her hand, wordlessly led her towards his cabin.

Kat hadn’t been in Carlos’s bedroom since she’d taken that rather resentful tour of the yacht on the day she’d arrived, before he had flown in by helicopter. It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet she could count off the days on one hand. A few days and your life could change for ever…

‘Carlos—’

‘Do you know what we’re going to do for the next two weeks?’ he questioned silkily. ‘I am going to take you to heaven and back, Princesa. I am going to show you a hundred different ways to make love.’ His voice dipped. ‘And then a hundred more.’

‘I…I—’

‘Sssh. Just kiss me,’ he commanded unsteadily.

An unmistakable note of hunger had now deepened his voice and it was strong enough to make her forget her fears. Strong enough to make her feel his equal again—her, the woefully inexperienced Kat Balfour feeling the equal of this worldly wise and powerful Spaniard. How crazy was that? But she did. In that hot and breathless moment she did. ‘Oh, Carlos,’ she whispered helplessly, as she drifted her mouth against his.

Inexplicably, Carlos’s hands were trembling, and for the first time in his life he had difficulty yanking down the zip on a pair of woman’s jeans. But Kat proved bold. She slid his silk shirt off as if she had just been taught the most erotic way to remove an article of clothing—and where she laid his flesh bare, her lips followed, anointing tiny butterfly kisses on his skin.

Her soft, sweet seduction almost took his breath away, and Carlos tumbled her down onto the silken counterpane which covered his vast bed, his hands reacquainting themselves with all her soft curves and secret places as if it had been months since he’d last touched her body, instead of hours. Burying his head between the lush warm globes of her breasts, he could feel her squirm with excitement beneath the flickering path of his tongue. His mouth drifted to one rose-peaked nipple and he heard her gasp as it puckered in his mouth.

‘Carlos!’

‘Sí, Princesa—qué pasa?’

Kat’s fingers tangled in his black curls as waves of pure pleasure washed over her. ‘K-kiss me.’

‘Oh, I will kiss you,’ he murmured, with a low growling laugh. ‘Don’t you worry your beautiful head about that.’

Kat had meant a kiss—a proper kiss—but now his dark head was drifting down towards her belly. And his tongue was sliding into the faint dip there and flicking at her so playfully that she felt quite faint. He was certainly kissing her, but…kissing her there? She shuddered as a wave of pleasure racked through her body, accompanied by another wave of disbelief and wonderment. ‘C-Carlos.’

‘Mmm?’ Now his lips were brushing over the soft fuzz of hair between her thighs, hearing her tiny gasp as he parted her legs and began to lick at her honeyed sweetness.

Kat couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think. She was aware that she was trembling as tiny shimmerings of pure excitement began to build inside her, promising the same pleasure as he’d bestowed on her during the night. Just as she was aware of the sensation of Carlos’s mouth kissing her at the focal point of her femininity. It felt almost unbearably intimate and yet—bizarrely—it also felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The shimmerings now became little peaks—a whole range of sensations which began to hum and throb deep inside her, like a heavily laden honeybee about to topple from a flower.

‘Oh!’ she breathed—and then she clutched his broad shoulders. ‘Oh, oh, oh!’

Inhaling the distinctive scent of her arousal, Carlos sucked deeply on her throbbing flesh while she orgasmed against his mouth, her sighs of satisfaction sounding like tiny gasps of disbelief.

He moved back up to lie over her, brushing her tousled black hair away from her flushed face. ‘You liked that?’ he asked eventually, a finger moving to trace the trembling outline of her lips.

Liked it? Kat was so overawed by what had just happened to her—so seduced by the subsequent gentling of his tone—that she couldn’t hold back on the way she was feeling. Lifting her hand to one olive cheek, she let it trail deliciously over the dark rasp of his jaw. ‘It was…it was wonderful.’

‘Then let’s make it even more wonderful, shall we?’ But this time he reached for the condom he’d laid in readiness by the bedside and he saw her watching him from between slitted blue eyes as he carefully ripped open the wrapping. ‘Better not make the same mistake again,’ he declared, as he took her into his arms once more, softening her with kiss after kiss until she was ready for that first sweet thrust.

And afterwards, Kat lay there, curled against his hard body, watching the sunlight which was shafting in from the portholes while one word danced around in her mind. Mistake, he had said, as he had slid on the protection and moved over her with dark intent in his eyes.

Carefully, she turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were closed—the harsh lines of strain on his face now dissolved by the recuperative power of sleep. In repose, his face seemed softer, but no less formidable for that. The strong line of his jaw and the proud slash of his cheekbones still spoke of a certain arrogance, and strength.

His was the face and the body of the hunter—strong and powerful—with the finest genes and an unmistakable air of dominance. The kind of man that nature had conditioned women to desire. Instinctively, Kat let her hand flutter down to lie on her belly. How flat it felt—and yet, even now, his child might be growing there. Layer upon layer of tiny cells building by the minute, the hour. How big would it be by the end of the week? By the end of two?

Her heart gave a leap of something which felt uncomfortably close to excitement and, with an effort, she forced the thought away. But then, she’d had a lot of practice at pushing away disturbing memories. And it was pointless getting worked up by a pregnancy which probably didn’t exist outside her imagination.

What if it did? What if she was carrying the Spaniard’s child?

How had Carlos described it? Kat bit her lip, remembering the sudden tightening of his hard features and the words he had used.

Carlos had not viewed the prospect with anything other than a dark foreboding—hadn’t he made that clear with the very word he’d used?

A mistake, he had said.