by Lynne Graham
‘Leaving you a clear field? You’ve got to be joking!’ Elaine spat. ‘And I still refuse to believe that kid is his! Show me the birth certificate…show me some real proof! You were totally fat and unattractive three years ago. I don’t believe he would have looked at you, even drunk! So if that brat isn’t his, who did father her?’
Chrissy stood stock-still. Elaine read the flash of dismay that briefly froze her kid sister’s features. ‘She is Blaze’s child,’ Chrissy insisted tremulously.
‘Is she…? I wonder,’ Elaine breathed absently. ‘You were the most frightful po-faced little prude at seventeen. When I think about it, I find it very hard to credit that you just fell into bed with Blaze of all people.’
Without warning, Elaine spun and walked back out to the hall, seemingly eager to be gone.
‘Kissy…see my picher!’ Rosie came running out of the kitchen waving her painting.
Elaine paused with her hand resting on the front door. Her keen eyes narrowed as they rested on Rosie’s animated little face. A soft intake of breath escaped her and then suddenly, disturbingly, she smiled back at Chrissy. ‘I’ll be seeing you…some time soon, I expect.’
Rigid with tension, Chrissy watched her climb into the Porsche. Could Elaine suspect the truth? That Rosie was their mother’s child? No, how could she? Elaine didn’t have an atom of evidence on which to base such an assumption. It wouldn’t even cross her mind that Belle could have given birth to another baby shortly before she died. Why should it?
It was after five when Blaze returned. Sheathed in a superbly tailored grey suit, he stood in the kitchen doorway watching her for several seconds before he spoke, an odd smile playing about his wide mouth. Then Rosie hit his knees and he scooped her up and scrutinised her with unashamed intensity. ‘Do you think she looks like me?’ he asked lazily. ‘I don’t see any obvious Kenyon features. She is dark, but her hair isn’t as black as mine and she has your pale complexion.’
Chrissy bit painfully at her lower lip and simply ducked the issue. She cleared her throat. ‘Elaine came here today…’
‘Really…? I hope she doesn’t plan to become a regular visitor.’
‘I th-think you should tell her that w-whatever you had with her is over…’
‘I didn’t have anything with her,’ Blaze dismissed.
‘You should tell her th-that,’ Chrissy persisted tightly. Blaze, she had decided, was the only person capable of convincing Elaine that she was wasting her time.
‘Chrissy, as far as I’m concerned, Elaine doesn’t exist.’ His intonation was one of cool finality, but Chrissy ignored the warning.
‘Elaine n-needs to know that now,’ she repeated doggedly.
‘She’ll know when we’re married.’
But by then it might be too late, Chrissy wanted to scream in frustration. As yet, Elaine was unconvinced that Blaze was out of reach. She was still perfectly capable of going ahead with the abortion. ‘But that—’
Dense black lashes dropped low over narrowed sapphire eyes. ‘Do I need to rent a billboard to get the message across?’ he drawled with icy bite. ‘You deal with your bitch of a sister on your own. Frankly, I prefer not to be reminded of your family connections.’
Cut to the bone, Chrissy flushed and studied the table. She felt about an inch tall. Lifting the post lying on the table, Blaze strode out. Slowly but surely, however, a sense of angry injustice filled her. How dared he condemn her family connections when only those connections had prompted him to give her this job? Deliberately playing on her ignorance, he had brought them up here for a purpose. That purpose had been to use both her and Rosie as a weapon against her father!
Was Blaze even now playing a game of deception with her? He had flatly refused to tell Elaine that he was finished with her. Could that be because he was secretly determined to continue stringing her sister along? How far had that desire for revenge already taken Blaze? He had convinced Elaine that he wanted her. How much time had they spent together in London? Had he made love to her sister…had they shared a bed?
Bile burned Chrissy’s throat. She felt physically sick at the stark imagery flooding her mind. Her sister and Blaze, hotly entwined on tangled sheets. He despised Elaine, but that did not mean that he would not have touched her, did it? Blaze was a very male animal and Elaine was very beautiful. Sex without emotion. He was capable of that…oh, yes, Chrissy was painfully aware that Blaze was capable of such an act. Indeed she suspected that sex with emotion might present him with a tougher challenge.
He glanced up from the letter in his hand when he saw her in the doorway. ‘I have a secretary starting next week. We’ll work in here until the builders complete the office in the old stable block.’
Chrissy bit down on the soft underside of her lower lip. The tiny pain spurred her on. ‘What did you have planned f-for Elaine?’
His striking bone-structure clenched. ‘I really don’t think you want to know. You’re the compassionate, forgiving type… I’m not,’ he admitted with chilling emphasis. ‘I wanted to hurt Elaine and I had every intention of doing it. I would have enjoyed it as well. I would have broken her with pleasure…’
Pale and shocked, Chrissy stared back at him.
‘You are all that stands between Elaine and retribution. She ought to be kissing your feet in gratitude. You and Rosie are her only protection,’ he drawled very softly. ‘Marrying you will prohibit retaliation on my part… Does that ease your sisterly anxieties?’
No, it terrified her! If she disappeared, Elaine would go ahead with the termination. If she told Blaze the truth, he would return with renewed savagery to his campaign of revenge. Only if she actually went through with marrying him would Elaine give up and go home…but she couldn’t possibly go to those lengths…could she?
‘As for your father,’ he continued drily, ‘I have no further interest there either. Hamilton Enterprises is on the brink of bankruptcy.’
Chrissy was shattered by the cold indifference which distinguished that revelation. ‘Bankrupt? He was doing so w-well…I thought…’ Her voice tailed away.
‘He should never have sold the fast-food chain. He knew that business from the ground up. He made some very unwise investments with the proceeds. I doubt if he’ll be in the neighbourhood for much longer.’
Chrissy had no great affection for her father but she was distressed on his behalf. He had made money his god, his whole reason for existence. Shorn of his wealth, what would he do?
‘You’re actually feeling sorry for the bastard!’ Blaze raked at her, tight-mouthed, taking her by surprise.
‘He is my f-father.’
‘”A poor thing but mine own”. Remember that when you promise to love, honour and obey I expect one hundred per cent loyalty as well.’ Brilliant sapphire-blue eyes bored into her in unashamed intimidation. ‘And I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes if I don’t get it…’
Her strained gaze dropped first. She was in turmoil.
‘Chrissy, nobody gets to select their relations,’ he murmured. ‘You have nothing in common with Elaine but a surname. You don’t lie and cheat and manipulate and bitch. Don’t make your family a bone of contention between us.’
Of the four sins mentioned, she stood guilty of every one. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She had put herself in this strait-jacket. But Blaze had forced her into it, she told herself, desperate to share out some of the blame. Elaine’s unborn child was the only truly innocent party. If only she could have trusted Blaze enough to tell him the truth. But Blaze was seethingly bitter and so chillingly desirous of revenge that she did not dare risk the likely outcome.
‘Come here.’ A cool hand curved to her stiff spine and pressed her out to the hall. A gold-coloured box with an impressive logo, accompanied by several bags, lay in a careless heap just inside the front door. ‘We’re going out tonight. Dining with the Allans. I bought you something to wear.’
‘Going out?’ she whispered, still dazed by what had passed between them.
‘I want you dressed to impress.’ He piled the box and the bags into her nerveless grasp. ‘Floss is coming over to make dinner for Rosie and babysit…so you can pamper yourself for a couple of hours.’
‘The Allans?’ She was totally taken aback at the idea of dining out with him.
‘He’s an owner. I train five of his horses.’
He had bought her clothes. Contrarily, she wanted nothing to fit, didn’t want to be reminded of the kind of womanising expertise which was underwritten in such a confident gesture. And, worse, the lie was beginning to go public. Appearing with her at a dinner party was a sort of statement. Once again the lie was growing in stature. But right now there was nothing she could do about that, she told herself squarely. She had to sit Elaine out and call her bluff for the baby’s sake.
After a long, lazy bath, she opened the box and drew out a deceptively simple black shift dress with a half-sleeve and a low back. It was a size eight, spot-on. The bags variously produced high-heeled black patent shoes adorned with suede and diamanté inserts matched to an evening purse, gossamer-fine, nearly black stockings and an accompanying lingerie set in silk and lace that brought hot colour to her cheeks. And every single item fitted like a glove.
Blaze was in the drawing-room, lost in the depths of some racing publication. She cleared her throat nervously. He threw down the magazine, sprang up, and treated her to an arrested glance. Sapphire eyes flamed over the tumble of mahogany curls framing her flushed triangular face, lingered on the ripe red of her mouth and went on to trace the sleek fit of the dress hugging her slender curves and accentuating the long, elegant length of her legs.
‘Who’s Demi Moore?’ he breathed softly. ‘You look stunning.’
Chrissy shuffled off one foot on to the other, wreathed in self-consciousness, certain he could only be saying that to bolster her confidence. In her opinion, Blaze was the one who looked stunning. In a dinner-jacket, he took her breath away.
‘I have only one complaint,’ he murmured. ‘Black was supposed to make you look older. It doesn’t. You look sixteen, all sweet and pink and breathless, as if you’re about to go out on your first date…’
Getting even pinker, she averted her eyes. It was. Her first real date. There had been no boyfriends before she left home. As Elaine had delighted in reminding her, she had been totally unattractive. And she had only had a couple of months at college before her mother’s problems had taken all her freedom away. Apart from a few group outings, she was just about as hatefully inexperienced as she looked.
‘I want you to wear this…’ He flipped open a jewellery case lying on the marble mantelpiece and extracted a slender diamond necklace that glittered exquisitely in the firelight. ‘It was Barb’s…’
‘I can’t!’ Chrissy gasped, awash with guilt. Ignoring the assurance, he flipped her round and deftly clasped the necklace round her throat. Her fingers pressed it shakily. ‘But it was your mother’s…’
‘It’s getting late.’ He gave her a gentle push towards the door.
Floss came out to the hall, clutching Rosie’s hand and smiling broadly. ‘I am so happy for you both…’
‘Never thought you’d see the day, did you?’ Blaze quipped.
‘Why did you t-tell Floss about us?’ Chrissy demanded in the Ferrari.
‘Hamish has been treating me like a child molester since he overheard Elaine yesterday,’ Blaze imparted drily.
‘W-what?’
‘You were a teenager and I was ten years older. A sparkling self-defence eludes me.’
Chrissy squirmed in the passenger seat, increasingly unnerved by the way the lie was spreading like an insidious poison to draw in new victims.
The Allans lived in what had probably once been a plain country farmhouse. Now it was a mansion-farmhouse, awash with chintz and extensions. Davis Allan, a spare man in his early sixties, greeted them at the door. ‘You’re always the last to arrive, Blaze… Ah, who’s this?’
Dear God, she wanted to sink. She was here without invitation!
Davis peered short-sightedly at her. ‘You’re not Lesley, are you?’
‘Chrissy,’ Blaze delivered calmly.
‘I can’t keep up with your harem, old chap.’ Davis slapped his shoulder and had a hearty laugh. Chrissy’s cheeks burned. She wanted to chain Blaze to a wall and slowly kill him.
The second she met Janine Allan’s eyes, she knew she was an unwelcome surprise. Davis’s wife was about twenty years younger, a painfully thin blonde whose entire concentration focused with embarrassing fervour on Blaze, to the exclusion of her other half-dozen guests. What Blaze wanted to drink, where he should sit, what he had been doing dominated the whole conversation until they moved to the dining-room.
‘You sh-shouldn’t have brought me when I wasn’t invited,’ Chrissy hissed on the way through.
‘All my invitations include…“and partner”.’
‘You’re very young to be a housekeeper,’ Janine remarked with saccharine sweetness. Somebody audibly choked back laughter.
‘I like housekeepers young and fresh,’ Blaze drawled smoothly.
Chrissy’s teeth clenched.
‘I’ve been hearing the most astounding stories about you,’ Janine confided to the table at large.
Her husband coughed. ‘I don’t think—’
‘That Chrissy isn’t really my housekeeper?’ Blaze mocked. ‘That one was true.’
Again somebody laughed. Janine appeared anything but happy to have her suspicions confirmed.
Blaze rested a lean hand on Chrissy’s and lounged lazily back in his chair. ‘You see, Chrissy and I are getting married—’
‘Married?’ her hostess ejaculated incredulously. Her husband spilt his wine. Nobody laughed; everyone stared. Chrissy turned very pale, appalled at the convincing ease with which he had made that announcement.
Davis proposed a toast. There was much jocularity about the confinements of matrimony. Perking up, Janine began to survey Chrissy with pity, rather than envy.
‘Aren’t you brave to take him on?’ she gasped in a meant-to-be-heard undertone as they left at the end of the longest and most hideous evening Chrissy had ever had to endure. ‘Still, I suppose marriage is the one thing he hasn’t tried!’
‘That’s what having an affair with your secretary did for Davis,’ Blaze told Chrissy a few minutes later, sending the Ferrari raking too fast down the paved driveway. ‘A lesson to us all! His first wife was a darling. I can’t stand bitchy women! If she does that again, Davis will have to take his horses elsewhere. They’re not worth a damn anyway.’
Without warning, he stopped the car, released his seatbelt and reached for her. It all seemed to happen in one movement. Passing one practised arm round her slight shoulders, he leant over her and took her unprepared mouth in a savagely demanding assault that rocked her from her head to her toes. It was explosive.
Sure fingers rested on a slender thigh, flirted teasingly with the silky skin above the stocking-top. ‘I needed that,’ he groaned against her mouth.
A car horn shrilled in three staccato bursts as it passed them.
Blaze laughed huskily. ‘Bang goes my image. That was a couple of our fellow guests. I’m off to London first thing tomorrow. I spend half my life on the road…’
It took immense self-discipline but she was making a recovery. By dint of blocking out awareness of those playful fingers on her thigh, the other set of fingers stroking the nape of her neck, she contrived it for several driven seconds. ‘W-why did you tell them that we were getting married?’
‘Since we’ll be married the day after tomorrow, it didn’t seem too premature.’
Chrissy froze. ‘The d-day after tomorrow? You’re out of your m-mind… You’re joking!’
‘Why do you think I went to see Theo?’
‘I don’t even kn-know who Theo is!’ she snapped.
He frowned in surprise. ‘He’s my godfather. Who else would I approach when I need a special licence?’
/>
‘A s-special licence?’
Blaze frowned down at her. ‘If we wait, we give the tabloids a field-day! Sooner or later, someone’s going to talk to the Press. You and Rosie will be labelled as my secret mistress and child. I don’t want that. Even Theo understood that indecent haste was a necessity and, frankly, he was so afraid that I’d never marry, he couldn’t shell out the licence fast enough! He probably thinks that if we wait, I’ll change my mind. Actually, he’s wrong…’
‘Th-Theo is a vicar…’ she whispered in growing horror.
‘A bishop. He’s already contacted the local vicar. He wants to officiate at the ceremony, probably in the hope of lending a bit of class to a less than stylish bolt to the church. Do you mind that?’
‘M-mind what?’ Chrissy mumbled.
He groaned with exasperation. ‘How much wine did you drink tonight? Do you mind that it won’t be a proper wedding? You can have a dress if you want, blinding white if you like… Nobody cares about only virgins wearing white these days…’
‘No,’ she conceded in a whisper of sound, her stomach turning over, not once but repeatedly. With difficulty, she swallowed down hysteria. ‘I can’t m-marry you, Blaze!’
‘Of course you can.’ He fired the Ferrari as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘I mean it… I really m-mean it… I can’t!’ she cried.
‘I am not listening to this,’ he asserted drily, drawing up in front of the Hall.
‘Goodnight,’ she said starkly a few minutes later when they were inside and Floss had taken her leave.
‘What the hell is the matter with you?’ With a powerful hand, he swung her round to face him before she could make it up the stairs to sanctuary.
‘N-nothing… I’m just…just not feeling very well.’ It was true.
His grip on her arm relaxed. A dark flush underscored his cheekbones. His mouth tightened. ‘Couldn’t you simply have told me that?’
‘I’m just v-very tired…all the excitement, the a-arguments,’ she stumbled.
Something flashed in his concerned gaze. He raised an almost awkward hand to her strained face and then dropped it again without touching her. He hovered for a split-second, looking uncharacteristically uncertain of himself, and then stepped back, leaving her free to pass him.