My Liege of Dark Haven

by Cherise Sinclair

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On Tuesday afternoon Abby hugged her mother and Grace and motioned them into Xavier’s house.

  “What a beautiful home,” her mother said, turning in a circle. “I love the stonework everywhere.”

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Grace, the puppies are outside.” Unsettled at having her family in Xavier’s place, Abby led the way to the long stretch of patio in the back.

  “Hey, you can see the Golden Gate and Angel Island.” Grace slowed long enough to check out the bay before making a quick dash to the puppies.

  “It’s a spectacular view at night.” Abby followed her sister to the small “kennel” that Xavier had contrived on the side lawn. The babies liked being outside when the weather was nice.

  The fog had cleared, and sunlight sparkled off the waves far below. The scent of the dark-red roses mingled with the brine in the air and charged Abby with energy. Or maybe it was the way Xavier had woken her early in the morning, with sweet kisses and slow sex.

  He’d told her that “rough sex” was for other times and places, and mornings should be loving. Of course, he wasn’t prepared to let her sleep either. Sex might be leisurely, but it was also determined. Burrowing back into the covers sure hadn’t worked. A shiver of heat ran through her at the memory of his firm grip as he’d clipped her wrist cuffs to the headboard. Now she knew why he made her wear cuffs to bed.

  When she’d demanded that he leave her alone, he’d tilted her chin up, staring into her eyes as he thrust—slid—into her easily. Smiling, he murmured that if he ever found her not aroused, then he’d let her sleep. Since just the sound of his voice made her wet, she had a feeling that sexless mornings were a thing of the past.

  “This place is amazing. I didn’t realize a professor made this kind of money,” her mother said.

  Abby winced. Today—or soon—she needed to tell Mom that she and Nathan had broken up. And that the house belonged to Xavier.

  Thank goodness, he wasn’t home today.

  Her mother settled on the edge of the patio and picked a happy puppy out of the pen. As it wiggled and licked to express its delight, she laughed and looked at Abby. “You and Nathan must be getting along very well if he’s keeping your puppies. Or are you living here?”

  “Ah…”

  “She’s living here—but not with Nathan.”

  Abby spun.

  Xavier stood in the doorway. He’d taken his suit coat off and loosened his tie, looking fully at home as he walked outside.

  “You must be Abby’s mother.” He leaned down to shake hands. “Xavier Leduc.”

  Even her mother wasn’t immune to his devastating smile, and she smiled back. “Carolyn.”

  “Leduc Industries?” Grace asked. When Xavier nodded, she gave him a wide grin. “I invested in your company in my economics class. You made me a lot of fake money.”

  Xavier laughed. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  Her mother shot Abby a look that said she had some major explaining to do.

  I should have hauled the puppies over to Mom’s. Her parents and Grace had—thankfully—been on vacation since the Fourth of July. How was she supposed to explain what had happened? Let alone how she’d ended up living with Xavier?

  She glanced at him and realized he was watching her, his eyes slightly narrowed. She pulled on her professorial cloak of confidence and told him, “Grace talked my parents into letting her have a puppy. After doing research on cockapoos, she thinks she wants one.”

  His smile was a caress. “Sounds like intelligence runs in your family.”

  “Well, just the half that came from Mom,” Grace said. “Good manners too, for that matter.”

  “Grace!” Her mother straightened.

  Scowling, Grace walked away.

  But Abby had seen the tears. She made a motion to her mother to stay put and followed.

  Holding a puppy, Grace stood with her back to the patio and stared at the bay.

  Abby put an arm around her. “What’s up, sweetie?”

  “Janae. She’s such a bitch.”

  Not good. Grace never swore. “What did she do?”

  “I’m dating Matthew.” Grace flushed. “You met him last year when you came to the basketball game. He brought you a soda, right?”

  Long and lanky with an attempted mustache, he’d been both smart and courteous. “I remember.”

  “Well, I asked him over when we got back yesterday. We were going to watch the new Men in Black. Only, Janae came over.” The scornful, hurt expression looked wrong on Grace’s freckled face. “She…she made a play for Matthew.”

  Abby stared, an ugly feeling arising. “She’s thirteen years older than you two.”

  “Yeah, well, that didn’t seem to matter.” Grace nuzzled the top of the puppy’s head. “Matthew was, like, weirded out. She was all over him, touching and everything.” Grace batted her eyes in one of Janae’s flirtatious mannerisms and said in Janae’s coo, “Oh, Matthew, does basketball give you shoulders like that?”

  Abby closed her eyes. She remembered too well how effective her stepsister’s techniques were. Abby’s few boyfriends had fallen quickly. “Where were Mom and Dad?”

  “Outside on the deck.” Grace sighed. “I thought about telling them, but Mom wouldn’t do anything. And Dad thinks Janae’s his sweet little girl, and she’d make it look like I was just jealous.”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you.” Abby’s method of hiding her head in the sand hadn’t solved anything. Yet the thought of confronting Janae—or anyone—made her insides shrivel into a hard ball.

  “It’s okay.” Grace’s mouth firmed. “I know Mom tells us not to rock the boat and to always be polite. But I don’t think that’s the answer.”

  Not for Abby’s little sister. Mom might have raised her to be polite, but Grace was the daughter of a CEO who’d never backed down from a fight. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find your own answer.”

  “I guess I can politely warn the guy that Janae has slept with so many men she probably has every disease in the books.”

  Abby sputtered a laugh and hugged her.

  XAVIER HAD EXCUSED himself to change into jeans and a casual shirt. For a few minutes he watched Abby with her sister from the upstairs window. The two had inherited their mother’s big eyes, dainty eyebrows, straight nose, and plump lower lip. Grace’s reddish-blonde hair and freckled skin came from her mother, and probably her long legs from her father. A very pretty girl. A troubled one.

  But whatever had happened, Abby would help her feel better. His submissive had a comforting personality. But not a forthcoming one. He frowned. She hadn’t told her mother about breaking up with Nathan or moving in with Xavier. That was annoying.

  They’d have a chat about her silence tonight. Meantime, he intended to get to know her family.

  As he walked out on the patio, Grace and Abby had returned to the fur balls. The girl’s spirits appeared back to normal as she tried to decide on a puppy.

  Xavier grinned at Abby’s descriptions. “Blackie is male and headstrong and stubborn,” Abby said.

  And her favorite, he knew. His as well—the pup had more personality than many humans.

  “Blondie is female and sweet. Tippy”—Abby touched the brown one with a black tip on his tail—“male and a wussy. Freckles is male and just plain funny, always carousing and wanting to play. Tiny is female and very shy.”

  “You couldn’t find better names than that?” Grace looked outraged.

  “The people who adopt them will give them real names. These are just for identification for me and Xavier.”

  Her mother smiled at him. “You help her?”

  “I’ve been drafted into late-night feedings, cleaning pens, and washing off paws, yes.” And wouldn’t give up a minute of it. He gave Abby a look that drew her to his side, then felt her stiffen when he asked, “Would you two care to join us for supper? We’re competing for the best French dish. It’s my turn tonight.”

>   A couple of hours later he’d decided Abby had a delightful mother and sister. They’d insisted on helping in the kitchen and deliberately dropped tidbits about Abby—how she’d graduated high school at sixteen, done her doctoral thesis at twenty-two. How she’d used her father’s life insurance money to travel to a new country each summer in a unique way of memorializing the special times she’d shared with him. Their pride in her was as obvious as her love for them. He was a bit envious of their closeness.

  As they dined, Grace peppered him with questions about his past and his business, finally confessing she wanted to be a reporter. She’d be a fine one. At least he’d managed to keep the fact that he owned a BDSM club out of the conversation.

  After the meal, he and Grace fed the puppies while Carolyn and Abby cleaned up the kitchen. As he returned with the water dish, he heard Carolyn ask Abby, “Are you going to invite him to the party this Friday, dear?”

  Silence. “Um, no.”

  “Why not? I’d like Harold to meet him. He seems to be a very nice man.”

  “He is that, but no, Mom. I’m coming alone. I’ll be able to help you out with refreshments without worrying about a guest.”

  Xavier frowned. The little fluff didn’t do dishonesty well, and he could hear the lie in her voice. Why?

  “But…” The pause stretched out until Carolyn said, “All right, honey. It’s your choice, of course.”

  * * * *

  Xavier stood in a downtown hotel ballroom the next day, nodding to people he knew, occasionally joining in conversations, and concealing his boredom. Although he attended many events supporting single mothers, he didn’t find charity benefits particularly interesting. In the past, for business and community affairs, he had brought a date to have someone to talk with.

  A shame Abby had been buried with grading exams. Her company would have enlivened the evening.

  His glass of water stopped partway to his lips. Have her here? She was already staying in his home, serving as staff at his club, and starting a literacy class at Stella’s. She’d blurred the lines he’d drawn for years, and now he wanted to add her to his social life?

  He needed to think about that.

  “Xavier.” As an older woman approached, he smiled, grateful for the diversion.

  “Mrs. Abernathy, it’s good to see you.”

  “It’s wonderful to have you here.” Attired in a silver gown that matched her hair, Mrs. Abernathy took his hands. “I appreciate the funding your business has given us over the years.”

  “It’s a worthy cause. A lot of the women coming into Stella’s have been helped by you.”

  “I hope that can continue.” Mrs. Abernathy spoke for a few minutes about how the recession had decreased donations to the shelters, yet the number of women needing help had drastically increased.

  Xavier listened with a frown. Much as he wanted to help, the corporation’s charitable budget already exceeded the board’s comfort level.

  After an affectionate pat on his hand, Mrs. Abernathy responded to a hail from another guest and bustled away.

  “Xavier.”

  He turned to see someone he knew.

  “How nice to see you.” She took his hand and went on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Janae Edgerton was a strikingly beautiful woman with waving, dark-brown hair and dark eyes to match.

  “Janae, how have you been?” Something looked different, he thought. Ah. Since he’d seen her last, the medical profession had endowed her with fuller lips and Playboy-sized breasts. Being a man, he could appreciate the effect, although he preferred the feel of real breasts. “I don’t recall that a charitable event was your usual hunting ground.”

  She gave him a smile that he knew left most men dropping in her wake. “It’s not. But I remembered this was one of your favorite groups.”

  “And?” Wariness made the question clipped. They’d dated a few times several years ago. As usual, Xavier had disengaged and moved on to the next, although she’d wanted to continue.

  “One of my father’s favorite charities folded, and he’s looking for a replacement. I thought if you met him, you could convince him this would be a worthier cause than preserving some wetland down south.” She gave him a flirtatious smile.

  He frowned. “I’m merely a contributor. Mrs. Abernathy—”

  She shrugged. “Daddy doesn’t deal well with women.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Abernathy had convinced him of the urgency for new funding. It would be a shame to lose a donation for something as trivial as a gender bias. “I’d be pleased to speak with him. Will you introduce us?”

  “Oh, he’s not here. He doesn’t attend these things.”

  Xavier put his hands behind his back and waited patiently for her to come to the point.

  “He’s giving a party on Friday, and there should be time for you to meet him. He respects people in his…social class.” Her appreciative gaze ran over him.

  Although Janae had made a vivacious companion and served the purpose of eye candy quite well, he’d never wanted more. Even without his disinclination for vanilla sex. Was this a contrivance to get him to start dating her again? “You want me to attend a party on Friday.”

  She undoubtedly saw he intended to refuse and added hastily, “Just for an hour. Long enough to talk with Daddy. At nine?”

  He didn’t have plans for Friday. Abby would be at her parents’ party—the one she didn’t want him to attend. Dark Haven could survive without him. He had no reason not to obtain a new funding source for Mrs. Abernathy.

  But he preferred Janae not make any false assumptions. This would not be a date. “If you give me the address, I’ll swing by. For an hour.”

  Her smile was brilliant. “Perfect. In fact, I’ll meet you outside the house so you don’t have to search for me.” She hastily scribbled down the address.

  He turned the paper over in his hand. She’d gone to some work for this. “Thank you, Janae. This is thoughtful of you.”

  “Not a problem.” She kissed him on the cheek, her breasts pressing into his arm, and then strolled away, hips rolling.

  As Xavier dismissed her from his mind, he wondered if he could slip out early. Abby should be out from under her test papers by now, and he had a craving to hold her soft little body on his lap.

  * * * *

  Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air, Abby stretched her sore neck and shoulder muscles. She shouldn’t be out here. She had exams and projects to check, grades to hand in, and her own essay to finish. But eating breakfast on the patio had been a temptation she couldn’t resist…especially since Xavier had surprised her with eggs Benedict.

  Normally they’d cook together—unless they were competing—but he’d known she was falling behind.

  She checked her watch. “You’re going to be late to work.”

  “There’s a benefit to being the boss. Mrs. Benton will handle any problems until I get in.” He glanced at the clouds in the west. “I wanted to grab some sunshine before it disappears.”

  The wind had started to pick up, whipping Abby’s long batik caftan against her body.

  He eyed her. “You wearing anything under that?”

  Uh-oh. “Behave yourself. Some of us have to work.”

  He sipped his coffee, his gaze lingering on where the soft fabric outlined her breasts.

  “Men really do think about sex all the time.” She frowned. “In a D/s relationship, what happens if you want sex and I don’t?”

  “I win, pet.” A crease appeared in his cheek. “But if I don’t make you crave to be fucked, then I’m a poor excuse for a Dom.”

  Guess that makes him an awesome Dom. She flushed, remembering how quickly he could get her to that craving state. “Then for other stuff—who chooses what chores to do, where to go, the decorating…? There are other things besides sex, you know.”

  His smile disappeared. “I hope you’re not teaching your students such a foul lie.”

  She choked on her tea. “Wouldn’t that be an
interesting topic? It all comes down to sex.” She’d definitely have the attention of every student in her class. “But seriously…”

  “You’ve been here awhile. Is what we’re doing not working for you?”

  “I keep waiting for you to order me to kneel or say I have to do all the cooking and cleaning.”

  In the bright light of morning, she could see the laughter in his black eyes. He was dressed for the office in a long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt, but the top buttons were open, giving tantalizing glimpses of his tanned, muscular chest.

  She yanked her gaze away. Maybe he was right, and it really was all about sex.

  “If you were a slave, then those orders would be reasonable—and expected. However, a Dominant and his submissive usually work out between them how far his dominance extends.” His eyes glinted. “There might be times I will have you kneel…simply because I like the way you look at my feet. And how your expression and body change when you do.”

  Her bones turned soft as she saw the stern set of his jaw and the utter confidence in his posture. “What if I don’t want to?” she managed.

  “But you do, Abby.” He closed his fingers around her hand, firmly enough that she knew she couldn’t pull away. He trapped her gaze as well as he said softly, “And if it was inconvenient or uncomfortable, you’d still obey, because it would please me.”

  She would. The knowledge was frightening and heady at the same time.

  “But later, if something truly bothered you, then you’d tell me. And we would adjust the boundaries.”

  “That sounds workable.” But awfully vague. She frowned. “What are the boundaries now?”

  “I don’t interfere in your work, relatives, friends, what you wear outside the house, or what you do when you’re not with me. Your finances and possessions are your own.”

  Well, that left her a lot of leeway.

  “Inside the house or the club…or if we’re somewhere together, I assume command since we haven’t set any boundaries. So just because I don’t care to choose your clothing or ask for service now doesn’t mean that will continue.” His smile grew. “In fact, I considered telling you to take off your caftan so I could enjoy the sight of you in the sunlight.”