Mistress on His Terms

by Catherine Spencer

  He fought to breathe normally and tried to look away. A man could lose his soul staring into those eyes.

  “If you don’t like it—” she began, sounding as if she, too, had just run a marathon.

  “I don’t!”

  “Then let me go.”

  Easier said than done! He didn’t trust her and he didn’t like her, but underneath his lawyerly facade he was still only a man and there were some things beyond his control. Such as his hands, one of which slid from her shoulder to her jaw and from there to her hair, while the other stroked over her bare arm. And his mouth, which suddenly itched to taste hers. And not to be outperformed, an uprising from that singular component of the male anatomy which most definitely sported a mind of its own.

  Show a little decency and move away, for crying out loud! his mind commanded.

  But beneath the drooping veil of her lashes, her eyes had turned dreamy. Her lips had fallen softly apart. The hard points of her nipples pressed against his chest. Her thighs nested warmly against his.

  We’re all family, Sebastian…I want you to get along….

  But not quite this well!

  She was the one to break the spell, if that’s what it could be called. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” she said faintly.

  “So you did.”

  “Perhaps now, you’ll believe me.”

  Masking his reluctance, he let go of her and rolled onto his back. “I never disputed the fact. But neither did I expect you’d fling yourself at me the way you just did.”

  “That was a regrettable accident.”

  “The way I see it,” he said, glaring at her, “the entire business of your being here at all is regrettable.”

  He thought himself well-armed against her, that nothing she might say or do would breach his defenses, but the sudden hurt in her eyes stirred him to dangerous compassion. Damn her for invading his part of the world! Why couldn’t she have stayed where she belonged?

  Gritting his teeth, he snapped off the lamp, folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He’d hoped for utter darkness, something to erase his awareness of the shape of her lying beside him, but a floodlight on top of a pole in the parking area shone directly at the window, spearing the thin fabric of the curtains and filling the room with a dim glow.

  A silence descended, oppressive with unspoken tension. Time trickled past—fifteen minutes, half an hour.

  She lay ramrod straight, arms by her sides, legs held primly together. Only her breasts moved, rising faintly with her every breath, but she wasn’t sleeping. Slewing his gaze, he caught the gleam of her open eyes in the murky light, and then, to his horror, saw a tear slip down her cheek.

  He pretended not to notice. No more anxious to acknowledge her distress than he was, she turned her face away and he thought the danger had passed. But then a faint sniff pierced the silence, followed by a smothered gulp.

  Finally he could stand it no longer. “Why are you crying?”

  “Because,” she said, after a wrenching pause, “I miss my mother and dad. Just when I think I’ve come to terms with losing them, it hits me all over again. I guess I must be overtired or something, because I seem to be doing a lot of crying lately.”

  Was it her referring to her mother’s second husband as “dad” that softened him, or was he just a pushover when it came to women in distress? Whatever the reason, he found himself wanting to comfort her. “I’m sorry if I came across as an unfeeling lout earlier. I know how hard it is to lose a parent,” he admitted. “My father died when I was eight.”

  Slowly she wriggled onto her back again. “It hurts, doesn’t it, no matter how old a person is?”

  “Yes,” he said, not sure he liked the near-intimacy of skin touching skin the sagging mattress enforced, but not exactly objecting to it, either. “At first, I refused to believe I’d never see him again. I used to look for him in crowds. Every time there was a knock at the door or the phone rang, I’d expect it to be him. I remember the first Christmas without him, the first birthday, the first vacation, and how much I envied those kids who had both parents around to take them places and do things with.”

  “Were you an only child?”

  “Yes,” he said, and went on to tell her how he’d gradually come to terms with his loss.

  After a while, though, it occurred to him that he was the one doing all the talking when he should be taking advantage of such a heaven-sent opportunity to learn more about her. “I gather you were a pretty close-knit family,” he said. “Were you still living at home when you lost your parents?”

  He waited for her to reply and when she didn’t, he raised his head a fraction to look at her and saw that she’d fallen asleep with her cheek lightly brushing his shoulder. She looked young and innocent and totally at peace.

  He wished he could drift off as easily, but his thoughts were too chaotic. Facts on which he’d based all his assumptions about her suddenly appeared less well-founded and he hated the uncertainty it produced.

  Part of him wanted her to be exactly as she appeared: a young woman with nothing in mind but coping with personal tragedy and getting to know the man who’d fathered her. But another, greater part clung to the legal training in which it was so well versed and warned him not to be lulled into a false sense of security.

  So she’d shed a tear or two and shown a more vulnerable side. What did that prove except that there was more to her than initially met the eye? Underneath, she was still the same unknown quantity; a woman with a questionable agenda.

  I’d love to come and stay with you, she’d told Hugo, latching on to his invitation with unsettling alacrity. There’s nothing to keep me in Vancouver right now, nothing at all. Discovering you couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Better for whom, and why? Not for Hugo, who’d been put through enough by her money-grubbing mother, and who’d fought hard for the good life he now enjoyed. No prodigal daughter showing up on the doorstep was going to spoil that, not as long as Sebastian Caine was around to monitor events!

  She sighed in her sleep and kicked at the sheet so that it slipped down to expose the top of her thighs and the pale line of the panties she was wearing under her nightshirt.

  Carefully he lifted his wrist and pressed the button to illuminate the face of his watch. Not yet eleven o’clock. Another six hours before daylight and the chance to assess the storm’s damage. Another six hours of lying next to her and feeling her perfumed warmth reach out to touch him.

  There was a hell, and the devil ruled!

  CHAPTER THREE

  THEY reached Stentonbridge shortly before lunch the next day. A small town nestled on the banks of a wide river, it boasted quiet residential streets shaded by old maples and lined with elegant nineteenth-century houses. But nothing quite prepared Lily for the opulence of the Preston estate.

  Situated on several acres of riverfront property, the house sat in majestic Georgian splendor on a low rise, amid manicured lawns and lush flower beds. “Why, it’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, taking in the spectacle as the car swept up to the front entrance.

  “As you very well knew it would be,” Sebastian said dryly. “You received photos, I’m sure.”

  “But they didn’t do the place justice. Nothing could. It’s…palatial! It must cost Hugo a fortune to maintain these gardens.” She shook her head ruefully. “I wish I was the one supplying his stock.”

  “Try to control the dollar signs dancing in your eyes, Ms. Talbot, and remember why you’re supposed to be here. The welcoming committee will descend any minute now, and I’ll be seriously ticked off if the first words out of your mouth imply the only thing you’re interested in is how much Hugo’s worth.”

  She’d woken that morning feeling well rested and optimistic, with the emotional overload of the past night behind her. Foolishly she’d hoped she and Sebastian had reached some sort of truce and his sly insinuations were at an end. But for all that the new day had brought clear skies, from the mom
ent he’d opened his eyes his disposition had been anything but sunny. Perhaps, she’d thought at the time, he just wasn’t a morning person and his mood would eventually improve.

  If anything, though, it worsened. When she’d thanked him for his sympathetic understanding of the night before, he’d shrugged her off with a succinctness that bordered on surly. He’d reacted with near contempt to her enthusiasm for the charming old towns they passed through. Refusing to let him dampen her spirits, she’d remained doggedly cheerful. This latest attack, though, was not something she felt inclined to let pass.

  “I resent that remark, Sebastian. It’s completely un-called for.”

  “Is it? When I woke up this morning, you were pawing through the money I’d left lying on the dresser in that motel room.”

  “I was not! I was looking for your keys so that I could load my luggage in the trunk of your car and be ready to leave the second you decreed we should, as you very well know because I explained it the minute you started leveling accusations at me. And if you’d got up at a reasonable hour, instead of lying around in bed half the morning, I wouldn’t have had occasion to paw through anything belonging to you!”

  “I hardly call getting up at eight o’clock and being on the road by nine ‘lying around in bed half the morning.’”

  “I was up at six.”

  “I didn’t get to sleep until nearly four.”

  “Well, don’t take your insomnia out on me!” she snapped, so exasperated she was ready to crown him with her purse. “It’s not my fault.”

  “Lower your voice and stop waving your arms around like that,” he said. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have an audience.”

  She saw then that the front door of the house stood open and, suddenly, all the silly bickering didn’t matter anymore. “Is that Hugo?” she whispered, her gaze glued to the white-haired man coming down the steps with a silky English setter dancing at his heels.

  “Afraid so,” Sebastian said. “Disappointed it’s not the butler?”

  “No,” she cooed sweetly. “But I wish the dog was a rottweiler and you were its lunch.”

  “Nice,” he said. “Very nice, Ms. Talbot. You’re finally showing your true colors.”

  Smiling determinedly, she hissed, “Why don’t you go jump in the river, Sebastian?” and without waiting for him to hurl something equally rude back at her, climbed out of the car and walked toward the man waiting at the foot of the steps.

  Hugo Preston was almost seventy but didn’t look a day over sixty. Tall and erect, with an enviable head of silver hair and clear blue eyes, he cut a handsome figure. “Well, Lily,” he said warmly as she approached, “we meet at last!”

  “Yes,” she said, all at once awash with conflicting emotions. How did a woman greet the man whose blood ran in her veins but who, for reasons he’d yet to disclose, had chosen to remain incognito until recently? With a kiss, a handshake, a hug?

  What did she call him, now that they were meeting face-to-face? Given his dignified bearing, Hugo suddenly seemed too familiar, and Mr. Preston absurdly formal…but Dad? Neil Talbot had been the man who’d filled that role, and her ties to him were too strong to be so easily severed in favor of this smiling stranger.

  Seeming to sense her uncertainty, Hugo took her hands and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “My dear daughter, you have no idea what today means to me. I would be deeply honored if, in time, you could bring yourself to call me Father. Until then, I’m Hugo…and this,” he continued, turning to the slender blond woman who’d come out to join him, “is Cynthia, my wife.”

  Cynthia Preston did not fit the image of The Other Woman. Even less did she look or act the part of resentful stepmother. Tall and elegant in a pale bronze two-piece ensemble with gold accessories, she was, quite simply, beautiful. More than that, she was kind. It showed in her smile, and in her sky-blue eyes.

  “I’m so happy to meet you, Lily,” she said, enveloping her in a warm hug. “Hugo has hoped for a long time that this day would come. We both have. And we’re so grateful to you for making it possible. Welcome to our home and please forgive our dog for pawing you like that. She considers herself one of the family.”

  Such total acceptance, following on the heels of Sebastian’s trenchant disapproval, completely undid Lily and, to her embarrassment, she burst into tears. “Thank you,” she wailed, dripping all over Cynthia’s fine silk shirt. “I’m really…very h-happy to be here.”

  “No more than we are to have you.” Slipping an arm around her waist, Cynthia guided her up the steps. “What a dreadful time you had of it yesterday. We were so worried when we heard the news. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you where you can freshen up, then we’ll have lunch and start to get properly acquainted. Sebastian, bring in Lily’s luggage, will you, and take it up to the Rose Room?”

  If she hadn’t found herself such an emotional mess, Lily would have enjoyed watching the almighty Sebastian Caine reduced to the role of porter. But she was too busy mopping up her tears on the linen handkerchief Hugo had produced and trying not to smudge her mascara in the process. She’d taken great pains with her appearance that morning just so that she’d make a good first impression, and here she was, all red-nosed and puffy-eyed within minutes of arriving!

  “I’m not normally like this,” she said apologetically.

  “Nor are we,” Cynthia replied. “But look, Hugo and I are both misty-eyed, too. Family reunions tend to have this effect on people.”

  Unless your name happened to be Sebastian Caine! Lily felt his glare on the back of her neck as he tramped up the stairs with her suitcases, and wondered how he’d manage to sit through the meal and not let fly with one of his barbed remarks.

  As it happened, she worried needlessly. He had someone else to occupy his attention. When Lily joined the rest of the family on the terrace after splashing cold water on her face and running a comb through her hair in the guest powder room, she found another woman had joined the party, and that she considered Sebastian her personal property became immediately apparent.

  “Hello, I’m Penny Stanford,” she said, subjecting Lily to a somewhat clinical inspection. “I wanted to be on hand to meet the long-lost daughter who stole my man away last night.”

  Oh, please, you’re welcome to every miserable inch of him! Lily wanted to say. Oh, and by the way, did you know he has another girlfriend stashed away in the city, and she looks ready to give birth any day now?

  Instead she confined her reply to a noncommittal “How nice to meet you.”

  “I think we could all use a little sherry before we sit down to eat,” Hugo decided. “You and Penny will join us, won’t you, Sebastian?”

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I’ve got a load of paperwork to take care of at the office and Penny’s working the night shift tonight so she needs to get some sleep.”

  “I’m head nurse on the surgical floor at our local hospital,” she informed Lily grandly.

  “I sell flowers,” Lily said.

  “How nice.” Nurse Penny swatted at the English setter. “Do stop sniffing at me like that, Katie! It’s so unhygienic. Well, Sebastian, since I left my car at the stables, I’ll hop a ride over there with you. Shall we go?”

  “Sure.” His glance skimmed over Lily. “Enjoy lunch.”

  Cynthia looked up from her chaise. “You’ll be here for dinner, won’t you, Sebastian?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “But it’s Lily’s first evening here and I’d like the whole family on hand to make it special.” She paused and sent him a sly little smile. “I had fresh lobster brought in, and Clara’s making your favorite dessert.”

  “That’s shameless bribery,” Hugo chuckled, pouring the sherry. “The man has his own life, Cynthia, and there’ll be other nights.”

  “And he’s already done more than his share to make me feel welcome,” Lily put in blandly. “Please, Sebastian, don’t feel you have to show up on my account. I’ll be perfectly happy without you
, so consider yourself excused.”

  “Lobster, you say?” Glacial as a northern sky in winter, his gaze once again settled on Lily.

  Cynthia nodded. “And raspberry tart. With homemade vanilla ice cream. A meal fit for a king, Sebastian—or, in this case, our new princess.”

  “Count me in, then. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  The satisfaction in his voice left Lily in no doubt about who’d emerged the winner in this latest go-round. She should have kept her mouth shut, instead of baiting him like that!

  “I’ve got to get to the office and return some calls.” He dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “What time are you serving dinner?”

  “Half past seven, the same as usual. But come early if you can.”

  “Will Natalie be here?”

  “Of course. She can’t wait to meet Lily.” Cynthia waved Sebastian and Penny off, then turned to Lily. “Natalie’s taking extra summer courses at our local college and had a class she couldn’t afford to miss this morning. She asked me to pass on her apologies for not being here to greet you, but she’ll be home by three o’clock, which gives you time for a bit of a rest after lunch before you meet her.”

  “I look forward to it,” Lily said. “What’s she studying?”

  “She wants to be a social worker. It’s been her dream since she was a little girl. She’d like to work with children. But she can tell you all about that herself. Your father and I are more interested in learning about you. You’re a horticulturist, right?”

  Lily grimaced self-deprecatingly. “I’m just a florist. Until recently, I was part-owner of a retail outlet.”

  “So you know your flowers, which makes you very much your father’s daughter! I’ve always said, if Hugo hadn’t been in the legal profession, he’d have been a professional gardener.”

  Rising gracefully from her chaise, Cynthia ushered Lily to the umbrella-shaded table and waited for Hugo to seat them both before picking up the conversation again. “I gather from your remark, Lily, that you’re no longer in business for yourself?”