by Anne Mather
So why was he hesitating in telling her that he wanted a divorce? It was what he wanted; what Marcie expected. And putting off the evil day wasn’t making it any easier for him.
The trouble was, recent events had caused him to see Marcie in a different light. And, although he still wanted his freedom, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to marry a woman who had so little sympathy for an innocent child. And Emily was innocent. If nothing else, he had accepted that. It was going to be bloody hard to hurt her.
But it had to be done, he thought fiercely. Oh, Isobel had been clever, he’d give her that. She must have known how he’d feel, becoming personally acquainted with the girl, how difficult it would be to separate the real from the imagined. Emily actually believed he was her father. Whatever he did, however often he tried to deny it, she was never going to believe anything else.
Unless…
Unless he did as Shane had suggested and got actual DNA proof that they were not related. It was easy enough to do, for goodness’ sake. A simple swab of saliva was all that was needed. Then she’d know once and for all that he and not her mother was telling the truth.
He shivered suddenly. He was standing at the window in just his silk boxers and, deciding it was time he took a shower and got the day moving, he started to turn away. But an unexpected sight arrested him. A dark green Range Rover was racing down the high street, and as he watched in some amazement it swung into the inn yard below.
Brakes squealed as whoever was driving brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt beside the pub wall. Jake winced. He didn’t need to see the registration plate to know whose vehicle it was. It was his. Or rather it was the vehicle he had loaned Isobel. What he didn’t understand was what she was doing here.
Glancing round, he supposed he should get dressed. He doubted if her early-morning call was to the landlord, and he felt a certain unwillingness to be caught without his shirt again.
But he had barely had time to pull a tee shirt out of his bag before there was a tentative tap at his door and, deciding he had nothing to be ashamed of, he went to open it.
As he’d expected, Isobel stood on the threshold, and the colour in her cheeks deepened when she saw his bare chest and legs. ‘Oh,’ she said almost disappointedly. ‘You’re up.’
Jake inclined his head. ‘Wasn’t I supposed to be?’ he asked. Then he saw what she was clutching. It was the bundle of notes he’d left on her kitchen table the night before. Had she been planning to shove them under his door? ‘You hoped I wasn’t?’
Isobel sighed, thrusting the notes towards him. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said tautly. ‘I believe these are yours.’ She tried to put them into his hand but he resisted her. ‘Please: take them.’
Jake took a deep breath. ‘I left them for you.’
‘Yes, I realise that.’ Isobel’s lips tightened. ‘But, whatever you think of me, I’ve never been a kept woman and I don’t intend to start now. All right, I know you’re helping us at the moment—helping my mother, at least—but that has nothing to do with me. The allowance you make Emily is quite enough.’
Jake felt angry. ‘That allowance is for you, not Emily,’ he said harshly. ‘And you know it.’
‘Whatever.’ Isobel waved the notes in his face. ‘In any case, I don’t want these.’
Jake ground his teeth together. ‘Perhaps you’d better come in and we’ll talk about it,’ he said, feeling the chill from the landing and realising that their conversation was probably clearly audible to anyone at the foot of the pub stairs. ‘Unless you want the whole village to know our business.’
Isobel shook her head. ‘Just take the money,’ she said wearily, and Jake realised she was almost as tired as he was. Like him, she didn’t look as if she’d slept, and she was still wearing the pale blue jersey and narrow-legged cord trousers she’d had on the night before. The fact that the colour of the jersey accentuated the incredible colour of her eyes was something he’d also noticed the previous evening. But they were shadowed now, and wary, and he couldn’t deny the feelings of responsibility she inspired in him.
He reached out and, although he guessed she’d think he was going to take the bundle of notes, he grasped her wrist instead and jerked her towards him. Caught off balance, she stumbled, and Jake was obliged to put his arms around her to prevent them both from tumbling backwards onto the floor.
It was a mistake. God, what a mistake it was, he thought, staring down into those startled blue eyes and feeling the heat rushing to his groin. He pushed the door shut behind her, struggling to control his reaction, but just the feel of her against him made him ache with longing.
She was so soft, so feminine, so utterly desirable in that moment that he could think of little beyond the fact that his morning erection was suddenly stiff again and tightening his shorts. His whole body felt charged with emotion, and his hand curved automatically over her hip, bringing her into intimate contact with his maleness.
‘Please—don’t,’ she said huskily, but Jake was barely listening to her. Instincts as old as time had him in their grip, and the urge to touch her mouth and feel the sensual thrust of her tongue against his was almost overwhelming. He already knew how she would taste, how good it would feel to explore that moist cavity and bite the soft skin on the inner curve of her lip. The memories were irresistible—and inescapable.
His free hand cupped the side of her neck, his thumb rubbing roughly across her mouth. He tugged her lips apart, sexual anticipation darkening his eyes as he watched her resistance. But common sense seemed to have deserted him along with his control.
Her hair was loose about her shoulders and he pushed his fingers into its ebony softness, feeling the dark strands clinging silkily to his hands. ‘You want this,’ he told her thickly. ‘Just as much as I do. That’s why you came here. Because you knew what would happen.’
‘You’re crazy…’
‘Am I?’ He drew her inexorably closer, moulding her body to his and feeling his own arousal getting dangerously close to erupting. ‘Why not admit it? Or is that too close to the bone?’
‘I just brought the money back, that’s all,’ she insisted, her hands coming up as if she would push him away. But against her will, it seemed, her palms spread against the arrowing of soft hair on his midriff, and the banknotes tumbled unnoticed to the floor at her feet.
‘Forget the money,’ he breathed, when she uttered a cry of protest, nuzzling her neck with his teeth. Then her restless fingers brushed the hard nubs of his nipples and holding out was definitely beyond his reach.
With the scent of her body filling his senses, he felt dizzy with his need of her. Wedging one leg between hers, he searched for her mouth and was rewarded by the parted heat of her lips. His tongue sank deeply into hot melting sweetness and he inhaled her essence deep into his lungs. His manhood was throbbing, painful in its intensity, and he gave an agonised sigh. He wanted her; no, forget that, he needed her, and, God help him, something had to give.
Beneath the pale blue jersey her heart was beating at a frantic pace, and when he inched the sweater up over her midriff he discovered her skin was as moist as his own. Perspiration dewed her breasts, their swollen peaks hard and vulnerable, and he discovered that in her haste she’d forgotten to wear a bra.
Isobel had always had small breasts, but motherhood had evidently added a womanly weight to them. As he gathered them into his palms Jake’s senses jarred at the memory of her pregnancy, but the delight he felt in touching her again soon overrode any lingering restraint.
Besides, this was only sex, he told himself fiercely, as his mouth sought the sensitive column of her throat. Surely she could understand that, with her experience? He wanted to have sex with her, but that was all.
Yet as he overcame her resistance and peeled the jersey over her head, his hands softened, gentled. He caressed her breasts and her midriff and the slender curve of her waist with increasingly tender insistence. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, enjoying the
way she convulsed beneath his hands. And when he returned to her mouth her response was as hot and urgent as he’d wished.
Her tongue fenced with his now, tangled with his, and finally her lips caught his tongue and sucked it into her mouth. She had lost her inhibitions and she lured him on with mindless abandon.
Jake realised he couldn’t take much more of this without losing all control. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to bury himself in her heat and softness, wanted to feel her tightness closing around him and drawing him in. He wanted to come inside her, wanted to feel her all around him. He wanted to drive her to the very limit of her endurance and feel her orgasm joining his…
With his mouth still covering hers, he backed her towards his bed, feeling a sense of satisfaction when she subsided onto it. But she was still sitting up when he came down beside her, and he released her mouth to take one rosy nipple between his teeth.
The sound she made when he sucked upon it was a potent stimulant, and he eased her back against the tumbled sheets and straddled her body with his. Her eyes were somnolent now, and he recognised in them the same sexual intoxication he was sure she must see in his. Her actions were no longer governed by her mind but by her senses, and he took great pleasure in unbuttoning her trousers and slipping his hand beneath the lacy briefs she wore underneath.
She was wet. The briefs were damp around the crotch, and when he eased his fingers between the soft folds of flesh, he found a burning need to match his own. She jerked beneath him, her legs splaying to give him greater access, and her moan of protest when he withdrew his hand was transparent in its intent.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,’ he told her thickly, moving aside to pull the tight-fitting trousers down her slim legs. The briefs went with them and he quickly shed his boxers. Then there was nothing between them but the urgency of their own needs.
Jake sucked in a breath when Isobel arched towards him. Her fingers reached for him, caressed him, blew his senses away with her eagerness to show him she remembered his needs as well as her own. ‘Take it easy,’ he said huskily, but she wasn’t listening to him. Lifting her head, she pressed her mouth to his, and the agony of suppressing his need became too much for him to prolong the suspense.
‘No more,’ he groaned, drawing back and spreading her legs for his delectation. Then, in one swift, satisfying move, he thrust into her, expanding her and filling her as he’d wanted to do since he first went to her apartment.
She was tight, so tight. It was almost like making love to a virgin. If he’d had any doubts about her celibacy in the years since their separation they were instantly assuaged by the sudden gasp she gave when he pushed into her.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he demanded, his own desires briefly thwarted by his concern for her, but Isobel just gulped again and shook her head.
‘No, no!’ she exclaimed, convincing him she meant it, and with a groan of satisfaction he began to move.
The pleasure was intense. But much too short-lived. He’d wanted to make it last, to find the dark peace of mutual passion in her inviting body, but his own flesh betrayed him. Even moving at all had him gasping for breath, and he could feel his control slipping away.
He knew he should draw back, that common sense demanded he protect her from herself, but he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it. Heaven can’t be any better than this, he thought, as the devil inside him triumphed. He wanted her; he wanted to spill his seed inside her. And if that was a sin, so be it. He’d take his punishment like a man.
But he’d have this to remember first.
And just as he felt his own climax approaching he felt her muscles tightening around him. She was bucking beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. But it was the little cries she was making that were causing Jake to lose his reason. Dear God, he thought incredulously, she was going to be with him every step of the way.
The experience was everything he’d hoped for. Shuddering in the aftermath of his release, Jake lifted his face from her breasts and knew he’d lost. Yet at that moment, with his soul cleansed of even the most minute regrets, he couldn’t be sorry. She was his, he thought fiercely. His lover; his woman. His lips twisted. The only woman he had ever loved.
Isobel’s eyes were closed and he wished she’d open them. He wanted to tell her how he felt, wanted to share with her the revelation he had just had. But she seemed to have fallen asleep and he couldn’t disturb her. The shadows beneath her eyes were a potent reminder of the night they had both spent.
And what about Emily? his conscience probed, as he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. Could he possibly be the child’s father? Did he really want to know? Wouldn’t it be simpler to accept that she was Isobel’s daughter? That because she was part of Isobel he’d love her, whoever her father was?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ISOBEL slipped out of the inn while Jake was in the shower. Somehow she’d managed to convince him that she was asleep, but as soon as she felt him slide off the bed and go into the bathroom she made a scramble for her clothes.
It hadn’t been difficult to feign exhaustion. Indeed, she would have liked nothing so much as to curl into a ball and sleep the day away. But that was just a desire to put off thinking about the future. Although she’d just experienced the most devastating sex she’d had in her life, she knew as far as Jake was concerned she had simply acted as a substitute for Marcie Duncan.
Which hurt. It hurt a lot.
She let herself out of Jake’s room and scurried down the stairs to the bar below, where she encountered Tom Cooper, the innkeeper. She dreaded to think what he must think of her, but she couldn’t worry about that now. He’d been waiting for a delivery from the brewery when she’d arrived, which was how she’d been able to slip into the pub without being seen. But now he offered her a polite ‘Good morning’, as if he wasn’t already speculating about what she and his unexpected guest had been doing.
As if there was any doubt, Isobel thought, sliding behind the wheel of the Range Rover and twisting the rearview mirror towards her. She viewed her reflection with disgust. There were stubble burns on her cheeks and her mouth was red and swollen. She might as well have hung out a sign that said ‘This woman has just been well and truly—’
She balked at the ugly word that most fitted the situation and, swinging out of the inn yard, almost collided with the brewery wagon that was approaching down the narrow street. The driver sounded his horn and she only just prevented herself from showing him a finger. For heaven’s sake, she chided herself, what was wrong with her? Laceys—and she would soon be a Lacey again, if Jake had his way—didn’t do that sort of thing.
She glanced at her watch to distract herself. It seemed incredible but it wasn’t even eight o’clock. She already felt as if she’d done a day’s work and the day hadn’t even started yet. She hoped Emily and her mother were still asleep. She had no desire to have to explain herself to them.
Fortunately, she’d told no one about the money. Emily had been too upset to notice the night before, and Isobel had shoved it into her pocket before the child began asking questions she couldn’t answer. Well, Jake had got it back now, she thought; in spades. She just hoped he thought he was worth it.
To her relief, only Mrs Edwards was in the kitchen when she let herself into the house. The old housekeeper was in the process of putting a tray of bread rolls into the Aga’s oven and her eyes widened in surprise when Isobel came in.
‘You’re an early bird,’ she said, closing the oven door and straightening cheerfully. ‘If you’ve been down to the stores, I could have told you they don’t open before nine o’clock on a Saturday.’
Saved by the stores, thought Isobel ruefully, managing a smile. ‘I should have remembered,’ she said, hoping Mrs Edwards wouldn’t ask her what she’d gone there for. ‘Um—is Emily up yet?’
‘I haven’t seen her,’ replied the housekeeper, and Isobel was briefly d
iverted by the memory of Emily’s tearful face the night before. She hoped her daughter had got over her upset. Perhaps she’d thought that getting Jake to agree to stay overnight would make a difference. But after this morning’s—what? Scene? Seduction? Sex?—she doubted her husband would waste any time before heading back to town.
Deciding she needed a shower before she had to face her mother’s questions, Isobel headed upstairs to her room. At least Mrs Edwards hadn’t noticed anything amiss. Hoping she could immerse herself in hot water and give herself an excuse for her flushed face, she quickly stripped off her clothes.
‘Mummy?’
Emily’s voice behind her had Isobel reaching automatically for something to cover herself, and, clutching the bedspread to her chest, she turned to face the child who was still in her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas. ‘Yes?’
‘Do you think Daddy will come and see us again before he goes back to London?’ asked Emily, a tremor in her voice, and Isobel heaved a long sigh before replying.
‘I—don’t know,’ she said honestly, even though she was fairly sure that the answer would be no. She put a nervous hand to her cheek. ‘Er—did he say what he was going to do?’
‘No.’ Emily sniffed. Then another thought appeared to occur to her. ‘But he wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t want to see us again, would he?’
Isobel shook her head. Who knew what Jake planned to do? She hesitated before saying weakly, ‘Perhaps not,’ and was rewarded by the dawning relief in her daughter’s face.
‘That’s what I think,’ said Emily firmly. And, as if just noticing her mother’s face, ‘Is your face sore?’
‘I—it’s just some moisturiser I used last night,’ lied Isobel unhappily. ‘Why don’t you go and get dressed while I take my shower?’