A Forbidden Temptation

by Anne Mather

  Jack regarded her narrowly. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He moved quickly along the bar and she lifted the hatch to allow him to step through.

  A dog-leg staircase led up to the first floor. Grace went ahead, shedding her jacket onto the banister, revealing a simple vest of coral-pink silk.

  The colour should have clashed with her hair, but somehow it didn’t. And Jack had to resist the urge to slip his hand beneath its hem and find the soft skin of her midriff.

  Her bedroom wasn’t big, but it was attractive. Pale walls were complemented by floral curtains and a matching bedspread, a taupe carpet underfoot soft beneath their feet.

  Grace was nervous. As she kicked off her heels, going ahead of Jack into the room, she was half expecting a continuation of the awkward exchange they’d had downstairs.

  But Jack merely leaned back against the door to close it and then reached for her. He pulled her against him with urgent hands, sliding long, possessive fingers into her hair.

  ‘Sweet,’ he said, a little hoarsely, and bent his head.

  His mouth nudged hers, took possession of hers, her lips parting to allow the hungry access of his tongue. He licked his way along her lips, causing tremors of delight to consume her, so that when his tongue plunged into her mouth, she heard herself moan with pleasure.

  His eyes were open, searching her face for confirmation that she wanted him. She lifted her hand and stroked his jawline, loving the incipient stubble of his beard. She could hardly believe that Jack was here, in her bedroom. She’d despaired of ever being with him again.

  Jack knew he had to take this easy, but it was incredibly difficult when what he really wanted to do was tumble her onto her bed. But she deserved to know how he felt about her. For him to hear how she felt about him.

  Yet the temptation to just go on holding her and kissing her, feeling her slender body yielding—oh, so deliciously—against his, was almost irresistible.

  He had missed her so much. God, even in his best moments he hadn’t been able to kill the fear that, despite what they’d shared, she’d forgive Sean and marry him.

  Losing her, he knew, would have been so much worse than losing Lisa. He’d loved his wife, of course he had, but it had been such a shallow thing compared to his love for Grace.

  He caught his breath.

  When had he first realised he loved her? he wondered. At the cottages, when she’d practically fallen into his arms? Or that afternoon on the beach, when he’d made love with her, uncaring that anyone might have seen them?

  Or had it been on his yacht, when her father had interrupted them so inopportunely? All of the above, he suspected. He couldn’t remember a time since he’d met her that he hadn’t felt this amazing connection between them.

  He released her mouth to bury his face in the curve below her jawline. Her skin was so smooth, so soft, and the heat of her body came to him in waves. That and the unmistakeable scent of her arousal, an arousal he felt his body mimicking when she lifted one leg and wrapped it around his calf.

  ‘Do you want me?’ she breathed, and Jack felt his senses reeling.

  ‘Will the sun rise tomorrow?’ he demanded thickly as his hands sought the provocative swell of her butt.

  ‘But we need to talk, Grace,’ he muttered, his breathing accelerating. ‘Besides, I don’t know if your father would approve if I made love to his daughter here.’

  ‘Well, he seemed pretty happy about your being here earlier,’ she murmured. ‘I thought he was angry with you, but he wasn’t, was he?’

  ‘No.’ Jack smiled. ‘I think your dad and I have come to an understanding. He’s not such an ogre when you get to know him.’

  ‘Dad’s okay,’ said Grace, rising up on her toes to press herself even closer. ‘I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to think I wanted you to bail them out, but Dad had mortgaged the pub to help Sean.’

  She paused. ‘When Sean was here that weekend, he told me Dad wouldn’t be getting his money back, that he’d spent his investment. I was horrified. He threatened to tell Mum and Dad if I didn’t help him out.’

  ‘Did he?’ Jack wished he’d beaten the guy up while he’d had the chance.

  ‘But I wouldn’t do it. And believe it or not, Dad got his money back this week.’ She sighed. ‘You don’t know how relieved I was when I heard what had happened. Sean must have had a change of heart.’

  ‘So it would seem,’ said Jack neutrally, thinking he had definitely got the best of the bargain, anyway.

  Grace wound her arms around his waist. ‘You know, I never thought I’d say such a thing, but I’m actually grateful to Sean.’

  Jack’s brows descended. ‘Sean?’ he echoed, and her cheeks dimpled at the darkening expression on his face.

  ‘Leaving his jacket at your house,’ Grace reminded him, using her free hand to tug his shirt free of his waistband. Her fingers spread against hot, slightly moist flesh, and she rubbed herself against him. ‘Hmm, it’s hot in here. Wouldn’t you like to get out of this shirt?’

  There was nothing Jack would have liked more. His pants, too, he thought ruefully. There was no doubt that they were getting much too tight.

  ‘Grace—love, I want to be sure you know what you’re doing here,’ he groaned as her fingers slipped inside the waistband of his jeans. His pulse rate went into overdrive. ‘I guess Sean didn’t tell you what happened when he came to see me?’

  Grace closed her eyes for a moment. Then she heaved a sigh.

  ‘How could he? I haven’t seen Sean since that afternoon when he went to your house.’

  Jack knew this already from her father, but he wanted to be certain. ‘He didn’t come back to the pub?’

  ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he?’ Grace conceded the point. She blew out a breath. ‘Okay, perhaps I should tell you that I finished with Sean months ago.’ She flushed. ‘I found out he was seeing someone else behind my back.’

  Jack stared at her. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Yes, I know what you thought,’ Grace confessed unhappily. ‘But if Sean had thought I was seeing someone else, Dad would never have got his money back.’ She gave him a sly look. ‘Besides, I’d sworn I wasn’t going to get involved with anyone else and you were...well, too much of a temptation.’

  Jack caught his breath. ‘You’re kidding me!’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘So when Sean came to ask for that loan, and you came with him, it wasn’t me you were mad at?’

  ‘No.’ Grace sucked in a breath. ‘I’m sorry. You must have thought I was a real bitch.’

  ‘That isn’t the expression I’d have used,’ he remarked wryly, and she gave a little laugh.

  Jack shook his head. ‘But I have to say I had a few sleepless nights fretting about the way I’d treated Sean.’

  ‘Oh, Jack...’

  ‘It’s true.’ He gazed down into her anxious face, his own expression softer than she’d ever seen it. ‘I was falling in love with his woman, see? I was even thinking of selling Lindisfarne House and moving away.’

  Grace shook her head. ‘And I thought I was just a diversion. Something to make you forget your grief at losing your wife.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Jack was very sure. ‘There’s nothing diversionary about my feelings for you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so desperate as when I thought you loved someone else.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  Jack’s thigh wedged between her legs and he felt her heat in the muscles that drew him in. Her eyes sought his, eyes so green he felt he could drown in them.

  ‘What do you think?’ he said as she gazed up at him. ‘I just know I’ve never felt like this before.’

  Her lips parted, innocently inviting the invasion of his tongue. She touched his lips with tremulous fingers. ‘I
love you, Jack. I think I knew it from the moment we first met. Even when I told myself you weren’t interested in me, I couldn’t deny my feelings. Not to myself.’

  ‘So why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded huskily, feeling the rapid tattoo of her heart beating against his chest. ‘I’ve been through hell since you left me on the yacht.’

  ‘Me, too.’ Grace pursed her lips. Then, rather tentatively, ‘Was that girl my father spoke about really your former sister-in-law?’

  ‘Debra? Oh, yeah.’

  Jack caught her chin between his fingers and bestowed a teasing kiss on the corner of her mouth. He grinned. ‘She’s been my constant defender ever since Lisa died.’

  ‘Does she love you?’

  ‘So I’m told.’ Jack didn’t specify his informant. ‘But as far as I’m concerned, she’s Lisa’s little sister. A bit of a nuisance sometimes, but she has my best interests at heart.’

  Without her input, would he really have connected all the dots about Lisa and Sean?

  Grace considered this. ‘My father said she must care about you a lot to come here.’

  ‘I guess she does,’ said Jack ruefully. ‘But you’ll like her when you get to know her.’

  ‘You think?’ asked Grace doubtfully. ‘I’m going to find it very hard to like someone who loves you. Unless it’s your family, of course.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ he said, lowering his head again to nibble at the side of her neck. ‘But at least your dad has decided I’m really not such a bad guy. I’m looking forward to him meeting my ma and pa.’

  Grace sucked in a breath. ‘Meeting your...your ma and pa?’ she echoed confusedly. ‘Are your parents coming to stay with you?’

  ‘Well, they may do, in the future,’ agreed Jack. ‘But I was thinking about before the wedding. Perhaps your mother and father might like a trip to Ireland instead.’

  Grace’s lips parted. ‘Is—is that a proposal?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Jack regarded her mischievously. ‘I wouldn’t be as presumptuous as that.’

  ‘Presumptuous?’

  ‘Of course.’ Jack grinned again. ‘I haven’t got your father’s permission yet, have I? But I will get it,’ he assured her. ‘Even if I have to get down on my knees.’

  ‘Oh, Jack, I do love you.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Jack’s voice was a little hoarse now, and she could feel the throbbing heat of his arousal against her hip. ‘So maybe I’d better go down and tell your father how we feel.’

  ‘In a little while.’

  Grace was in no hurry. She looped her arms about his neck and threaded her fingers into his thick dark hair. She loved the feel of his body against hers, the sensual scent of male she associated with him. And the intimacy between them that she’d never shared with anyone else.

  ‘I think, you know,’ she said huskily, ‘we have other business to attend to first.’

  EPILOGUE

  GRACE HAD NEVER attended an awards ceremony before, let alone one where she’d been asked to be the guest presenter.

  And particularly not one where said guest presenter was in the final trimester of her first pregnancy and feeling like an elephant besides.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ she moaned, gripping Jack’s hand so tightly her nails were in danger of puncturing his flesh. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

  ‘There’s always a first time,’ murmured Jack, his eyes dancing as he looked at her. ‘I’m here and I’m your husband. How difficult can it be?’

  ‘But it’s the baby,’ Grace protested, and Jack grinned at her words.

  ‘Our baby,’ he agreed, with some satisfaction. And ignoring the interested stares of their audience, he leant towards his wife and brushed his lips against hers.

  Immediately, Grace felt a surge of emotion. Jack only had to touch her and her body melted with his heat. She badly wanted to touch him, too, but they were on stage in front of more than a hundred people. So she contented herself with squeezing his thigh and hearing his indrawn breath.

  ‘Later,’ he said in an undertone, and Grace dimpled.

  ‘Is that a threat?’ she whispered teasingly, and Jack gave her a smouldering look.

  ‘It’s a promise,’ he said hoarsely, removing her hand from his leg as the mayor began to speak.

  Grace’s attention was definitely fractured, however. Even the baby seemed ominously quiet at present. It was probably a silent protest at the way she’d provoked its father, she reflected. Nonetheless, she was so proud of Jack, so proud of the man she had married.

  Her hand traced the prominent mound of her belly almost absently. Just a couple of weeks to go, she thought. She couldn’t wait for the baby to be here. The sexy jersey crepe was tight across her abdomen, and she’d wanted to wear something less revealing. But Jack had assured her that he’d be the envy of every man there.

  At least the dress was warm. Northumberland in March wasn’t the warmest time of year. But at least they were in a warm hall and not out on the cliffs at Culworth. They might have been if her father had had his way.

  Jack’s renovation of the cottages at Culworth was the reason for this presentation. They’d already won an award for originality of design, and Jack had also received a grant from the government to continue renovating other properties in the area.

  Consequently, this ceremony had been arranged by the local Chamber of Commerce. They’d decided to honour Jack and in so doing advertise the attractions of the town, as well.

  Asking Grace to present the cut-glass set square had, she suspected, been her father’s suggestion.

  Since Grace and Jack had got married seven months ago, Tom Spencer and Jack’s father had become the best of friends. They shared an interest in fishing, and in Irish whiskey. And Patrick Connolly and Jack’s mother were in the audience at present. They were frequent visitors to Rothburn these days, much to everyone’s delight.

  Then it was her turn to speak and Jack squeezed her hand in encouragement as she got up to make the presentation. She had to say a few words first, which was easy. She loved talking about her husband to anyone.

  But the formality of the occasion was what had unnerved her. And only when the ornamental instrument was in Jack’s hands did she heave a deep sigh of relief.

  Then caught her breath as a stabbing pain pierced her abdomen. It almost caused her to double up, but she managed to keep a smile plastered to her face.

  However, Jack, always sensitive to her feelings, saw at once that she was hurting. Cutting short his response, he slipped a protective arm about her waist.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Grace looked up at him, her expression a mixture of irony and regret.

  ‘I think it’s the baby,’ she said. ‘They told me at the clinic that it might come early.’ She braced a hand against the lower part of her spine. ‘I hate to break up the party, darling, but I think you ought to go and get the car.’

  Jack’s face mirrored his consternation. ‘God, I’m sorry, love. I never should have insisted that you did this.’

  ‘Well, at least you got your award,’ murmured Grace, laughing a little breathlessly. ‘But right now, I’d like for you to take me home.’

  The silence that had first greeted Grace’s obvious discomfort was suddenly broken.

  Half a dozen sets of footsteps thudded across the stage, among them those of Grace’s mother and Siobhan Connolly.

  ‘She needs to go to the hospital,’ declared Mrs Spencer, trying to take control. But Grace clung to Jack’s hands insistently, not letting anyone else come between them.

  ‘Home,’ she said imploringly, her eyes on his. ‘Darling, you promised I could have this baby at home.’ She took another breath as a second pain ripped through her. ‘I’m all right, really I am. Just get in touch with Nurse Forrester a
nd I’ll be fine.’

  Jack gazed round at his mother and his mother-in-law, hearing their worried protests, and then gave a determined nod.

  ‘Home it is,’ he said, ignoring the other women’s complaints. ‘If you two want to do something useful, offer our apologies to the mayor and his cronies, will you?’

  ‘But, Jack—’

  They left the hall with not just the women’s protests ringing in their ears, but their husbands’, too.

  And Jack hoped and prayed he was making the right decision. If anything happened to Grace, his life would be over. He’d realised that a long time ago, and it was never more relevant than at present.

  The next few hours were chaotic.

  They arrived back at Lindisfarne House to find that Mrs Spencer had contacted Mrs Honeyman and that she had already prepared their bedroom in readiness for the new arrival.

  But Grace hadn’t wanted to spend the next few hours in the bedroom. She’d insisted on staying with Jack while Mrs Honeyman made them both a strong, sweet cup of tea. In the normal way, Jack would have gagged at the unaccustomed sweetness, but right then everything had taken second place to his concern.

  Eventually—and seamlessly—their son was born in the bedroom. Jack had insisted on carrying his wife upstairs as soon as the nurse declared the baby’s head was beginning to show.

  And John Thomas Patrick Connolly delighted his parents by filling his lungs as soon as Nurse Forrester had delivered him. His lusty cries brought his grandparents to the bedroom, but the nurse wouldn’t allow them through the door.

  ‘Give the parents a few minutes,’ she said, emerging with flushed cheeks and a smile of satisfaction on her face.

  And both the Spencers and the Connollys had to be content with her assessment, forced to kick their heels in the living room while Mrs Honeyman provided them with more tea.

  Meanwhile, Jack and Grace were admiring their new baby, whose cries had abated somewhat since he’d discovered his mother’s breast.

  A mirror image of his father, thought Grace ruefully, aware that Jack was watching his son with awe.

  ‘I told you,’ Grace said softly, stroking her husband’s cheek with loving fingers. ‘I’m tougher than I look.’