Pregnancy of Revenge

by Jacqueline Baird

  'Dio! What is it with you and cars?' Jake rasped, his dark head lifting, his hand slipping from her breast, his arms enfolding her to hug her tight. 'We have arrived, cara.' And it was only then Charlie realised the car had stopped.

  In minutes they were naked on the bed, though Charlie had no clear memory of how they got there, and Jake was beside her, his dark eyes like molten jet sliding over her.

  Her hair was loose, and he ran a hand through it, spread­ing the golden strands across the pillow in an almost rev­erent gesture before his head lowered and he took her mouth in a deep, open-mouthed kiss that went on and on.

  For Charlie it was like coming home. She looped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers stroking through the silky hair of his head, and moaned her delight as she felt the caress of his hand on her breast. Heat flooded her veins, filling her body with sensual excitement as she arched against the teasing torment of his clever fingers. And she groaned out loud as he broke the kiss to dip his head and take the swollen peaks into his mouth, suckling first one and then the other. Her inner muscles clenched with need, desire lancing through her, making her hot and wet with arousal, and so very ready for him. Hungrily her hands roamed over him. He was all power and heat, and "she gloried in the perfection of his body, and shuddered as he stroked and caressed her, kissing the slight swell of her stomach, and murmuring husky words of adoration to their unborn child. Then with tongue and hands he resumed his sensual quest, finding every sensitive pulse, tasting every intimate part of her, until she was a shaking, whimpering creature, lost to everything but the erotic pleasure he gave her.

  Suddenly he reared back, and she stared in mute fasci­nation at his arousal, a magnificent potent force between his thighs, wild with wanting. Then his hands gripped and lifted her and he was there where she ached for him to be, easing into her slowly, inch by perfect inch, his sensuous probing electrifying her until every nerve in her body was screaming for release.

  She wound her arms around his neck, her head falling back, as with a powerful surge he slid in to the hilt. He repeated the movement, increasing the pace, his mouth find­ing her breast once more. She clawed at his back and sought his skin with her teeth, wanton in her need, and she cried out as her inner muscles spasmed around him in an explo­sion of pleasure.

  Jake gave a deep, primitive growl and increased the pace and with one final thrust that seemed to touch her very womb his body shuddered in violent release. He fell back on the bed, taking her with him, and she lay sprawled on top of him, her body quivering and her head buried in the curve of his throat.

  Jake's arms wrapped around her and he stroked her trem­bling body, gently, softly, until she sighed and lay still in his arms.

  Tenderly he rolled her onto her back on the bed and leaned over her. 'Dio, I needed you so much, amore mia,' he husked, bestowing a kiss upon her brow while his hand lazily traced the line of her shoulder and lower to cup her breast as if testing the weight, and then gently traced the swell of her stomach.

  He needed her. It was music to her ears, and this time she did not object to the amore mia as a deep sense of peace flooded through her. After what they had just shared, she could let herself believe he meant it.

  But she was rudely disillusioned a moment later as his hand was abruptly withdrawn and he stared down, his hooded lids lowering to shield his expression. 'But I should not have done it.'

  'Leave the party, you mean?' she said softly, a smile playing around her mouth as she lazily lifted her hand to his square jaw. 'I'm sure no one will mind.' Her fingers caressed his slightly roughened chin. 'I know I don't.' She raised languorous blue eyes to his, and for a moment she saw some deep emotion in his dark gaze.

  'Maybe not. But that isn't what I meant.' He placed a hand on her stomach. 'I couldn't bear it if I hurt our baby.'

  'There's no fear of that. They are tough little beggars.'

  'And you would know? You have had one before?' he mocked gently.

  'No, but then neither have you,' she mocked back, tracing the line of his high cheekbone and up to his temple, the pad of her finger resting on the tiny pulse that beat there.

  'I almost did once,' Jake murmured.

  Her eyes widened on his and the anguish she saw in the swirling black depths had her hand falling from his face in shock. 'But...you...how?' she stammered. She felt the sud­den tension in his long body pressed against hers, and heard it in his deep voice as he began to speak.

  'I was young and careless, and five months into a not- really-serious relationship when my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. Naturally I offered to marry her. I bought her the engagement ring she wanted, and gave her the money she demanded to arrange the wedding, but when she realised I ploughed most of my money into building up my business and was not as wealthy as she thought, my fiancée spent the money on a holiday and an abortion instead of the wedding.'

  'Oh, my God. That is appalling,' Charlie exclaimed, her hands involuntarily stroking his chest in a gesture of com­fort. She could feel his pain as if it were her own, hear it in his voice.

  'What is truly appalling,' Jake rasped, 'is the knowledge I paid to kill my own child.'

  'No, you can't believe that. It wasn't your fault,' she told him. His hand pressed lightly on her stomach, but his mouth hardened as she watched.

  'We are all responsible for our own actions, Charlotte, and the effect they have on those around us. She was my fiancée, not for any great love I felt for her, but out of necessity, and I should have known better than to trust her. But I learnt from it. I have never made the mistake of trust­ing a woman again.'

  Her heart ached for him. He was such a proud man— what it must have done to him to know the woman in his life could betray him so abominably... With her new-found knowledge, she realised why he had so little trust in her sex. After what had happened to him, he had a right to be cyn­ical. 'But not every woman is like your ex-fiancée, and you can't possibly want to live your life without trust,' she said softly.

  Jake rolled onto his back. 'I've managed perfectly okay so far,' he said, pulling her into the curve of his arm. 'Forget about what I said. You have the damnable ability to make me reveal more than is good for either of us.'

  Charlie leant up on one elbow. He looked so self- contained and devastatingly attractive that she felt anger mounting inside her. 'How can you say that, when it was that attitude that had you ranting and raving at me about money and proof when you discovered I was pregnant?' She paused as it hit her forcibly: Jake's insistence on marriage had not been solely about her baby, but the one he had lost. She remembered the expression on his face when she had wildly threatened to slit her belly open, convinced he wanted her to have a termination. How wrong had she been!

  'That was why you insisted on marrying me. You had lost one child and were going to make sure it didn't happen again.'

  'Charlotte,' he said tersely and the familiar shuttered look was back in his dark eyes. 'Does it matter why? We are married and I will support and protect you and our child.'

  'The same way you protect yourself,' she said more sca­thingly than she intended. 'Blanking out anyone who tries to get close to you with a wall of ice around your true feelings. That's no way to live.'

  He rose abruptly, and his narrowed glance held hers as he methodically picked up his robe and slipped it on. 'It sure as hell beats having to listen to your psychobabble in the middle of the night. I have to leave for Japan in the morning and I need to get some sleep. The bed next door will do me just fine.' And he turned on his heel and left.

  She shivered, cold with the kind of heart-rending chill that came with rejection, and as she watched his back mois­ture filled her eyes. The euphoria she had felt in his arms was replaced by a growing certainty that Jake would never let himself see her as anything but the mother of his child, and a convenient lay when his overactive libido got the bet­ter of him.

  Charlie brushed the tears from her cheeks, disgusted with herself for being such a fool as to lov
e a man who didn't know the meaning of the word, and didn't want to. How many times was she going to let him use her, only to be slapped in the face with rejection afterwards? She deserved better than that.

  Face it, she told herself. Knowing the reasons why Jake kept such a close control on his feelings or lack of them, and why he was so cynical about her sex had done her no good at all. Because Jake was perfectly happy the way he was. He wasn't prepared to listen and had walked away.

  Feeling listless, Charlotte refused young Aldo's requests to play with him after lunch, and decided to take a siesta in­stead. She hadn't slept or eaten much since Jake's departure five days ago. He had called her every day but the conver­sations had been short and stilted and yesterday she had put the phone down on him. She could not be bothered to talk to him as a polite little wife. She had reached her limit. And she wasn't sure she cared any more.

  She felt as if she were living in a deep fog, where there were no longer any clear lines to follow, any certainty or purpose in her life, except for the baby she carried. She had been a woman of action, but she now seemed incapable of taking any and she didn't like the woman she had become. Not bothering to remove her shorts and top, Charlie flopped down on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping that in sleep she could forget her troubles.

  The sun was low in the sky when she awakened and, rising off the bed, she straightened her T-shirt and slipped her feet into white canvas loafers. She was thirsty and, run­ning a hand through her dishevelled hair, she headed for the kitchen. A glass of juice would be good.

  She filled a glass, drained it thirstily, and replaced the glass on the bench. Idly she looked around and wondered where everyone was. She strolled out onto the patio, and heard the sound of voices raised in what sounded like ar­gument and the plaintive cry of some animal in distress. Walking around to the rear of the house, she glanced be­tween the clutter of outbuildings to the rock garden and cliff beyond that provided a natural security barrier to the outside world, and her mouth fell open in shock.

  Marta was at the entrance to Aldo's cave and crying her eyes out. Tomas was trying to comfort her, and Marco was speaking on a cell phone. The other security man from the gatehouse was surveying the cliff face.

  Charlie heard the cry again before she reached the others, and as she lifted her head her heart turned over with shock. It wasn't an animal, but Aldo.

  A couple of feet from the cave was a deep narrow fissure in the rock that widened out some twenty feet up and reached almost to the top of the cliff. Aldo had somehow managed to climb to where the gap widened and a narrow ledge protruded slightly. A colourful kite was visible on the ledge, no doubt Aldo's reason for the dangerous escapade. Unfortunately, with his small hands gripping the slight over­hang and unable to haul himself up, he appeared to be stuck.

  Tomas was struggling to climb up the fissure, but he was too large. Swiftly assessing the situation, Charlie did not hesitate. All three of the men were far too large to navigate the narrow chimney, and hastily she explained to Marco, who spoke the best English, what she was going to do. He tried to argue that the rescue team were on their way. But one glance at the perilous position of Aldo told Charlie they might be too late and she said as much, adding as reassur­ance, 'I am an expert rock climber and I free climb for fun. Trust me.'

  And seconds later she began to climb. Looking up, she cried words of encouragement to Aldo. She had no doubt she could reach him—she had to. But she had grave doubts that she could get him back down safely. Her expert eye quickly concluded the ledge was her best hope. With luck she could lift him onto it and wait for the rescue service.

  She quickly realised how Aldo had managed to get so far.

  The first fifteen feet were quite simple, providing a choice of finger and toe-holds. But she was a good deal larger than him and as she grazed her thigh, her knees and her back she cursed the fact she was wearing shorts and canvas shoes. As she got higher and the fissure widened again, she felt the sweat break out over her whole body as she struggled to find finger holds.

  She paused for breath and thought of her unborn child, praying her exertions would not cause any harm. With one hand she sought the next hold, a tiny gap. It was big enough for Aldo's small fingers but she had to grasp it with her fingertips. Her knuckles white with the strain, she hauled herself up a little further. She chanced a brief glance down and they were all staring up at her, degrees of fear on their faces. She forced a confident smile to her lips for Marta's benefit, and then searched for the next hold, vaguely regis­tering the sound of a racing car and sirens in the distance.

  Her chest heaving, she looked up at Aldo. 'Keep still, stay still, Aldo. Fermaressere,, she called softly and hoped it was the right word—she didn't want him any more fright­ened than he already was. Taking a deep, ragged breath, her heart pounding fit to burst, she made one final effort. Legs and arms aching, she struggled on until she was alongside him.

  'Charlie.' He stared at her, his dark eyes terrified and his little face streaked with tears.

  'Don't move, it's all right. I'm here.' Using all the skill of years of training, she found toe-holds either side of him, her own body covering his, and with her superior height and reach she curved one arm over the ledge, her long fingers searching to find the safest grip.

  This was the difficult part, Charlie knew. She could sim­ply hang there and wait for the rescue service—but if he panicked and let go, would her body take the weight? She doubted that would work, because any sudden movement on Aldo's part would probably dislodge her. The alternative was to tighten her grip on the ledge with one hand and hope to push him up and onto the ledge taking his weight at her own time.

  Quietly she spoke to him, telling him to be brave, to stay calm and do exactly as she said, and prayed he understood.

  Jake swore violently as he gunned the Ferrari through the wide-open security gates. What the hell was the point of paying for security if they left the damn gates wide open? Someone would pay for this, he thought savagely as he stopped the car with a spin of wheels outside the house. He didn't actually know what he was doing back in Italy when he had meetings lined up in Japan. But ever since yesterday, when Charlotte had quietly put the phone down on him, he had had an irrational need to see her again. Charlotte was feisty and sometimes furious, but never apathetic. Some­thing was definitely wrong. He had ordered the jet and flown straight back to Italy, and now as he marched up the steps he was sure of it.

  The great double doors were wide open. Dio! Please, no, Charlotte, he prayed as he stormed through the house call­ing her name. Run away, kidnapped or worse—he didn't know; he just knew he had to have her back.

  Pain squeezed his chest. How could he have been so stu­pid? He, Jake d'Amato, head of an international company and renowned for his business acumen, his ability to make the right decisions, his rapier-like intelligence, hadn't been able to protect his wife of barely two weeks.

  Entering the kitchen, he saw the open exit door, and walked back outside and around to the back of the house. He saw Marco and the security guard staring at the cliff through a red haze of rage and strode purposefully towards them.

  'What the hell do you think you are doing?' he roared at Marco, and froze when they pointed to the cliff, with a gesture of silence.

  As if in slow motion he glanced up and the sight that met his eyes made the blood freeze in his veins. Charlotte, his Charlotte, was suspended halfway up the cliff. He dashed to the base of the cliff, scrabbled for a handhold, anything. But strong hands hauled him back telling him it was use­less—he was too big and too late, the signora was almost there, and he had to be quiet.

  Wild-eyed he looked at them and back at Charlotte. He opened his mouth to yell he would kill her for being so stupid, and closed it again as it struck him like a knife in the gut that she was in grave danger of doing that for herself.

  'No. Dio, no,' he groaned and watched, his heart in his throat, as her lithe body moved closer to the young boy. He saw her straddl
e him and her fingers grip the ledge. He saw her hesitate and then her toes sought a firmer hold and in that moment he guessed what she was going to do. He wanted to scream and yell at her not to be so foolish, and, God help him, he didn't care if Aldo made it; all he cared about was Charlotte.

  He didn't hear the sirens; he was deaf and blind to ev­erything in the world except Charlotte. For the first time in his adult life he was utterly powerless. Neither his strength nor his wealth could do anything about the tableau unfold­ing before his eyes. He saw her slender figure tauten and the breath stopped in his lungs as she let go with one hand and reached an arm around the young boy's waist. Ashen- faced, he watched. He felt the strain, the agony she must be feeling with every cell in his body, and he saw her with superhuman strength haul them both onto the ledge.

  But it wasn't over yet. Suddenly he was aware of the police cars and the specialist fire appliance, the men all around him, and furiously he berated everyone in sight for their tardiness while scarcely taking his eyes off the ledge.

  When it was decided the fire crane was the safest option, he demanded to be the one to go up in the cradle.

  'No, sir,' the fire chief told him. 'Only an experienced operative is allowed—'

  Jake didn't wait to hear the rest, and moved impetuously forward. A bunch of officers grabbed him. He lashed out wildly and managed to throw them off, but he was too late. The cradle with a fireman on board was winging skyward.

  Cold terror gripped him, and he stood frozen to the spot as the rescue cradle was inched higher and higher.

  Charlotte lay back on the hard rock fighting to breathe, her arm firmly around Aldo. She felt him squirm and cry. 'No, don't move,' she rasped, and tucked him gingerly into the curve of her shoulder, closed her eyes, and said a quiet prayer of thanks.