Gypsy

by Carole Mortimer

  Thoughts of Lyon continued to plague her. Every time he looked at her he smouldered with a sexual hunger that made the heat come and go in her own body. And that bothered her almost as much as his continued presence. She was no longer pregnant, her body was almost back to normal, Peter telling her it would only be a matter of time now before she was completely back to normal health. She couldn’t help wondering what was going to happen the next time Lyon tried to make love to her. Twice now she had burned with a need to know his full possession; she didn’t seem to have the will to say no where he was concerned.

  She turned sharply as she heard a noise behind her, able to see a shadowy shape several feet away, a shadow that was slowly approaching her. ‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t be far away, Eric,’ she greeted the man who constantly watched over her, the two of them having become friends. ‘I—Eric?’ she questioned suspiciously as he didn’t answer her. Come to think of it, it didn’t look like Eric at all. Who—

  The blow to the side of her head sent rockets shooting through her brain before darkness engulfed her.

  * * *

  SHE WAS A vivid splash of colour lying on the cold grey stone floor, and Lyon felt afraid to approach her, could see the stain of red on the concrete beneath her head. If she were dead—

  ‘For God’s sake, Lyon,’ Matthew snapped, breaking him out of the fear that had gripped him. ‘Don’t just stand there, do something!’

  Lyon moved woodenly towards the body of the woman whom he loved beyond life. Body? A body implied that she was dead—and he wouldn’t believe that! No, she wasn’t dead, he could see the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, very shallowly, but she was alive!

  ‘Don’t move her!’ Peter Dunbar came up behind him, going down on one knee to feel her pulse gently.

  Lyon hadn’t been too thrilled at the idea when Shay had insisted the specialist be invited to the party, but now he was glad that she had.

  ‘Don’t hurt her!’ he rasped as the other man made her moan with pain as he carefully moved her head so that he could examine the wound on her temple.

  God, she looked so fragile lying there. If anything happened to her—!

  ‘Call an ambulance,’ Peter Dunbar instructed calmly.

  ‘Is she—’

  The other man shook his head. ‘It’s a nasty-looking cut, and the bump she has is enough to cause concern; I want to get her X-rayed straight away.’

  God, he was falling apart, down on his knees beside Shay as someone else—he wasn’t sure who!—went to telephone for the requested ambulance.

  He stood over her as the men got her into the ambulance, held her hand all the way to the hospital, pain racking his body for the agony in purple depths as her lids finally fluttered open.

  ‘Richard?’ she croaked raggedly.

  It was natural that her first concern should be for her son, but nevertheless it angered him that it was. She was the one who needed medical attention!

  ‘Being taken care of—’

  ‘Who by?’

  ‘Patty,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘Shay, did you—did you see who hit you?’ He looked at her anxiously.

  She closed her eyes as a slight shaking of her head seemed to increase the pain she was feeling. ‘He was—was tall,’ she muttered. ‘I think. Or it could have been a trick of the light.’ She tried to concentrate. ‘It was very dark over there.’

  ‘He?’ Lyon latched on to the only part that was really important.

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed on a sigh. ‘At least, I thought it was a man, but it could just as easily have been a woman,’ she frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ she groaned her frustration. ‘Someone just hit me with something.’

  ‘A shovel.’ Lyon shuddered at the thought of what that metal tool could have done to her.

  ‘Was it?’ Shay grimaced with the effort of trying to remember. ‘I don’t know. I—’

  ‘We’re taking Mrs Falconer into X-ray now,’ the young nurse told them gently.

  The next time he was allowed to see Shay her grandfather was at his side. Shay was sleeping now, a bandage wrapped about her temple, her face almost as white as the gauze.

  ‘At least the X-ray showed there’s no internal injury,’ Patrick murmured huskily.

  Lyon couldn’t feel quite so grateful, knew that if he ever got his hands on the person who had done this to Shay that he would rip them apart. The police had to believe him now!

  * * *

  RESTING ON A COUCH in her suite wasn’t the way Shay had envisaged spending the day before Christmas, but it was the only way the doctors at the hospital would agree to her discharge. She had to admit that her head still ached abominably, but she couldn’t stay away from Richard any longer. From the way he had latched on to her breast when she fed him this morning, it was obvious he had missed her as much as she had missed him—that he wasn’t overly fond of the bottle feeds he had been subjected to in her absence, anyway!

  She had dozed the rest of the morning away, eaten only a light lunch, very aware of all the things she still had to do for Christmas—and which she couldn’t now do.

  Lyon had driven her home this morning, but he seemed to have gone to work this afternoon. He had been so furious at Donaldson for not being there to stop her being injured this second time that the poor man had been dismissed, another of his associates taking his place. Lyon had been furious at Matthew too for leaving her alone out there, but Shay knew she had to take the blame for that, that she had been the one to insist on staying outside. But she had thought Donaldson would be watching over her, protecting her. Apparently he had been delayed by one of the guests. The police were ‘investigating’—whatever that meant!

  She turned from her contemplation of the log fire in the hearth in her lounge to see what all the noise was about as she could hear several people talking outside her door. Lyon walked in, directing the two men behind him as they carried in an enormous Christmas tree.

  ‘What—?’

  Lyon grinned at her stunned surprise. ‘“A real fire, a real Christmas tree—pine-needles and all!—and thee”,’ he misquoted triumphantly.

  ‘You forgot the cottage,’ she drawled to hide her truly overwhelming emotion that he should have done this, watching as he directed the men to stand the tree to one side of the fireplace, the fire blazing brightly.

  ‘Couldn’t get it in here, I’m afraid,’ he shrugged. ‘Thank you.’ Lyon handed the two men a tip that would probably buy six Christmas trees. ‘Well, what do you think?’ He stood back to admire the tree.

  ‘I think it needs some decorations,’ Shay said dryly, shielding her confusion with derision.

  ‘Be back in a minute,’ Lyon told her lightly.

  Tears clouded her vision as she looked up at the tree. It had to be eight feet high, almost touched the ceiling, its lush green branches pointing proudly upwards. The fresh smell of pine filled the room.

  Lyon staggered in seconds later with two big boxes, putting them down on the sofa. ‘Now, do you have a star, a fairy, or a Father Christmas on top of the tree? I bought all three.’ He held up the decorations for her inspection.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Lyon, did you do all this for me?’ she choked with emotion.

  ‘Of course.’ He sounded affronted that she should doubt that.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Star, fairy, or Father Christmas?’ he prompted determinedly.

  ‘Star,’ Shay answered dismissively. ‘What else do you have in the boxes?’ she frowned.

  ‘Wait and see,’ he teased.

  ‘Can I help?’ she offered eagerly.

  ‘Only until you tire,’ said Lyon sternly. ‘The doctor said you weren’t to over-exert yourself or it could affect your milk. And Richard wants a Christmas dinner of Mother’s milk, not the powdered kind!’

  Her mouth quirked, all hostility forgotten in the face of Lyon’s infectious festivity.

  There were so many decorations in the boxes she felt sure Lyon had bought out a whole shop! But by
the time they had attached all the ornaments to the tree, wound on the lights, it looked truly beautiful. They stood back side by side to admire their handiwork.

  ‘I think the star is crooked,’ Lyon frowned, stepping froward to straighten it.

  ‘Leave it,’ Shay pleaded huskily, full of emotion as she looked at the beautiful tree. ‘I think it looks just right as it is.’

  Lyon turned to her concernedly as her voice broke, his arm moving companionably about her shoulders. ‘What is it, Shay?’ he prompted softly.

  She blinked back the tears, turning her face into his chest. ‘It’s my first Christmas with Richard, and my first Christmas without Ricky!’ she choked.

  Lyon’s arms closed about her convulsively as reaction washed over her. She cried quietly in his arms as he continued to hold her, at last regaining control of her emotions as she looked up at him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed raggedly, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  ‘Shay!’ The kiss was inevitable, she had known that from the moment he had come into her suite with the tree—and she had put off the moment until it could be delayed no more!

  Her lips opened to his like a rose to the sun, their bodies moving together with a dizzying intensity as Lyon moulded her to him.

  ‘At last I can get close to you again,’ he teased as his lips travelled the length of her throat. ‘Richard is a lovely baby, but he did have a way of keeping us apart.’

  Shay stiffened at the reminder that it was her son he wanted, but her indignation faded as his mouth returned to hers. She was starving for what only he could give her, for what she had burned for for so long. The gentle touch of his hand, the fiery caresses, even the pain they had occasionally inflicted on each other. She needed Lyon more at this moment than she had needed him for a very long time, at last knew her reaction to ‘the next time he tried to make love to her’!

  Her mouth widened to his as she gave herself fully into his arms, pressing against him as her arms entwined about his neck, her fingers tempted by the thick dark blond hair curling at his nape.

  His lips left hers to trail moistly down her throat, his teeth nipping her earlobes, a quiver of reaction gripping her body, warmth instantly filling her.

  Lyon suddenly pulled back. ‘You’re tired—’

  ‘Not that tired.’ She pulled his head back down to hers, running her tongue in a tingling caress across his lower lip before she initiated the explosive meeting of their mouths.

  ‘Shay, don’t!’ Shay gasped, his forehead resting on hers. ‘I don’t know if I have the strength to be gentle with you.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ She kissed the strength of his jaw. ‘I don’t want you to be gentle.’

  ‘It’s too soon after the baby—’

  ‘I only have another week or so to go before Peter okays me,’ she dismissed. ‘And I won’t magically be all right at six weeks after Richard’s birth,’ she derided, a fever of need in her dark eyes. ‘Peter said I was very well when I saw him a couple of days ago.’

  ‘That was before your accident, before you got that bump on your head—’

  ‘It hasn’t affected my thinking process,’ she assured him impatiently. ‘I’m beginning to think you don’t want me, Lyon,’ she taunted.

  A shudder ran through his body. ‘Of course I want you,’ he denied harshly. ‘I just don’t think I can cope with the regret afterwards. And there would be regret, Shay, I’m sure of it.’

  She recoiled as if he had struck her. ‘I didn’t mean to force you into something you would rather no—’

  ‘Not me, Shay,’ he rasped. ‘It’s you. I can’t cope with your self-recrimination, or your accusations that I’ve seduced you.’ He took her hand in his, pressing it against his thighs. ‘I want you, Shay,’ he derided his own blatant need. ‘I want to make love to you until you can see and feel only me. I want to be inside you, gently stroking your desire, to know again those tiny convulsions your tightness around me give before you completely engulf me. I want it all, Shay.’ He gently touched her heated cheek. ‘But I don’t want any of it if there’s going to be regret afterwards.’ Deep lines were grooved into his cheeks.

  There would be no regret for her because this didn’t mean to her what it would mean to him. She wanted all that he wanted, knew and recognised that need for what it was, and there could be no regret for a mere physical gratification, a few brief moments of forgetfulness in the arms of a man she knew to be a wonderful lover. Her emotions weren’t involved.

  ‘I’m not going to regret a thing, Lyon,’ she told him confidently.

  ‘You’re sure?’ He still looked uncertain.

  In answer she moved out of his arms to pull the heavy brocade curtains across the window, the late afternoon light instantly blocked out, only the cheerful flames from the fire giving the room a warm red glow. Tiny lights shone on the huge Christmas tree, the decorations shimmering and glistening with promise.

  She undressed in front of the fire, its glow licking her body as she stood naked before him, her breasts thrusting proudly, her waist slim and flat, her hips gently curving, her legs long and creamy. With her black hair loose about her shoulders, she looked like a naked gypsy standing before a camp-fire.

  Lyon’s eyes glowed golden as he feasted optically on her, slowly moving to lock the door. ‘I’d throw away the key if I thought it would keep you in here with me,’ he grated, pulling off his own clothes.

  Shay looked at him beneath lowered lashes, their ebony darkness a heavy curtain over the desire in her eyes. ‘I don’t think Richard would like that,’ she mused huskily.

  ‘Do you know how I feel when I see him suckling at your breasts?’ Lyon groaned, throwing off the last of his clothing, his chest deeply muscled, the hair darker on his body, his hard arousal drawing her passionate gaze, seeming to harden even more as she continued to look at him.

  She moved slowly across the room, touching him, her hand closing about him. ‘Like this?’ She began to move, feeling him tremble convulsively.

  ‘Exactly like this.’ He didn’t try to stop her intimate exploration. ‘By the time I leave the room I’m usually at exploding point!’

  She could feel his moistness now, reluctantly releasing him, kissing his chest languidly, her tongue flicking slowly over the brown nubs that quickly hardened.

  ‘Shay, is this what it feels like?’ His legs almost buckled beneath him as she gently suckled him.

  ‘Yes.’ Her mouth returned moistly to his.

  ‘How do you stop yourself from—’

  ‘Richard is my son,’ she gently chided. ‘It isn’t quite the same. I feel—protective towards him as I give him the nourishment that helps him live.’

  ‘And how will you feel about your lover receiving the same nourishment?’

  ‘It’s so long since I’ve known the touch of a man’s lips …’

  ‘Can I?’ He lowered his head to her breasts, looking up at her heatedly.

  ‘Please!’ She gently held him to her, the soft kisses and barely discernible movements of his tongue not enough to cause her milk to flow. But the pleasure—Oh, the pleasure was almost enough to make her convulse with release right then and there!

  She fell to her knees in front of the fire, taking Lyon with her, their bodies moulded together now as their mouths met in painful demand. Despite the difference in their heights she and Lyon had always fitted together perfectly when they lay together like this, and today was no exception, Lyon hard where she was soft, that softness now welcoming the slow invasion of his hardness.

  ‘Am I hurting you?’ He looked down at her anxiously

  ‘Exquisitely,’ she groaned, moving beneath him. ‘Wonderfully. Beautifully. Oh Lyon, so beautifully!’ she cried as the dizzying pleasure began to explode around and inside her before she was ready for it, her body more sensitive than it had ever been before.

  ‘Shay?’ Lyon looked stunned by the speed of her approaching release.

  ‘Yes, Lyon. Yes!’ she groaned deman
dingly as he stilled above her. ‘Don’t stop now!’ She almost cried her frustration. ‘Lyon, please!’ she choked desperately, poised on the edge but denied the aching satisfaction.

  Confusion flickered in his eyes, and then he began that slow stroking inside her. Shay arched up to meet those thrusts, wanting deeper penetration, needing it as the heat built up inside her again, reaching its end this time, her nails digging painfully into Lyon’s back as she felt the aching heat flow through the whole of her body, spasm after spasm convulsing her as she cried out with the intensity of her release.

  She continued to move beneath him even after her own shudders of satisfaction had ceased, gripping Lyon’s buttocks as she held him in to her, feeling the sudden tautening beneath her hands before Lyon’s own release shot warmly into her, his powerful explosion seeming to go on and on.

  Shay lay silently beneath him, feeling weak now, so heavily tired. But no regret for using Lyon as he had once used her. Never regret.

  * * *

  BEAUTIFUL. The most beautiful experience of his entire life. He had never known such a prolonged climax in his life before, feeling as if he could go on for ever, could spill himself inside her until he was empty, all of himself given to Shay.

  He shifted slightly so that he shouldn’t crush her, his expression tender as he looked down at her flushed face, her eyes closed in exhaustion.

  Shay had come alive for him as never before, had been the aggressor while he felt like the ravished. And when she had reached the very pinnacle of her desire he had felt her flow around him, had known her unreserved response to her desire.

  His expression softened indulgently as he saw by her heavy lids and steady breathing that she had fallen asleep. He had known it would be too much for her, he just hadn’t had the strength to stop it when he wanted her so much.

  He had expected her to be different somehow after having the baby, but she had been just as tightly erotic as she had ever been, so that he only had to rock gently inside her almost to explode. When she had demanded he hadn’t been able to hold back for either of them.