The Blackmailed Bride

by Kim Lawrence

  His hard voice sliced through her stumbling explanation. `What do you want to happen, Kate?'

  The abrupt question shook her. `Me... ? Her slender shoulders shrugged and a small frown appeared between her eyebrows. `I suppose I want things to go back to the way they were...?' ,Suppose... ? Where had the suppose come from? She smiled staunchly and tried to put a bit of conviction into her tone. `I mean, it's not even as if any­body need ever know what happened.' Only I will.

  Suddenly Kate knew without question that things could never go back to the way they were because she had been altered by events of the last couple of days, and most of all by her contact with this man.

  A possibility she'd been doing her best to avoid needed facing. She might have fallen a little bit in love with him ...was it possible to be a little bit in love? No, came the bleak reply, at least not if Javier was the man in ques­tion! Oh, God...!

  `As you wish.' He shrugged in an offhand manner that drove home painfully to Kate that his lovemaking had been nothing more than an opportunist response to the signals she'd been broadcasting. `I will arrange transport for you back to your hotel.'

  `Thank you.'

  His eyes lifted to her face and the pain she saw in his eyes was so profound that she raised her hand towards him in an unthinking gesture of comfort.

  It was a gesture that he seemed to view with disdain, if not distaste. Under the cold regard of his eyes her hand fell away.

  `If you'll excuse me, I have to ring my sister. She doesn't know yet and I'd like to be the one to tell her. It will be hard for her.'

  Kate had lain for hours in her room, her body rigid and tense as she listened to the sound of Javier pacing up and down in his own room. Her empathy with his pain was like a knife in her chest, and her inability to do anything about it twisted the blade.

  She genuinely thought no feeling in the world could be worse until the pacing stopped and there was ominous si­lence. That was when her imagination kicked in. Javier was a strong man, but strong men were notoriously bad when it came to expressing emotion. When those emotions finally escaped people could behave in ways quite out of character.

  After half an hour of imagining his silent suffering she could bear it no longer.

  If he was asleep, fine, she could just slip away and he would never know she'd been there; if not...well, she'd work out the what's if and when she came to them. She'd know he was all right and that was what she needed.

  He wasn't asleep.

  When Kate pushed open the door Javier was sitting on the bed, still fully clothed, his head in his hands. Suddenly being here didn't seem a good idea; she backed up and was actually reaching for the door handle when he revealed he was aware of her presence.

  `You should be asleep.'

  `I...I could hear you moving around.' He looked so hag­gard it hurt. She wanted to rush to him and throw her arms around him, but the hostility he was radiating stopped her.

  `I'm sorry I disturbed you. I will be quiet...'

  `I don't care about that!' she ground out in frustration. He was broadcasting so much pain she wanted to cry, Let me take it away for a little while. This approach would almost certainly have been rejected so Kate had to rethink her strategy.

  `Then what do you care about? Ah, I see, my agony ­you feel pity.' His lip curled derisively. `You wish to com­fort me. By offering me the comfort of your lovely body, perhaps...?' A muscle in his lean cheek jerked as his bold glance roved with insulting familiarity over her lightly clad body.

  Kate's chin went up. `You won't get rid of me that eas­ily,' she declared coolly.

  Inside she wasn't nearly so confident; inside she was a mass of painful insecurity. Throwing yourself at the man you loved when you knew that your feelings were not re­ciprocated was not a light-hearted step to take!

  She saw Javier's eyes widen. He flattened his palms against his thighs and, leaning forwards heavily, shook his head. `What do you think you're doing?'

  `What does it look like?' she replied as she eased the shoe-string straps of her nightgown over her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she released her grip and let the fabric fall into a silken pool around her feet.

  Javier released a long shuddering hiss.

  A defiant glint in her eyes she stepped away from the fabric.

  His burning gaze held all the distinguishing hallmarks of compulsion as it roamed over her slim pale flesh. 'Dios mio,' he breathed in a shaken tone. `I do not require a sacrifice.'

  `Actually, Javier, I'm not thinking about what you want, but what I want...what I need,' she added in a driven, quiv­ering voice. `You started something earlier...' God, what are you doing, Kate? a horrified voice in her head asked­ this isn't you!

  But it is me, she realised, smiling. I have never been more me! Relief and a fresh flood of confidence surged through her.

  `I have not forgotten,' Javier choked, seeing her lovely face through a shimmering haze of heat. His eyes dropped. 'Madre niia, but you are perfect!' he exclaimed with husky, gloating appreciation.

  `Perfect, no, but I am here and I'm getting cold,' she revealed from between chattering teeth-a condition that had nothing to do with the temperature and a lot to do with the trauma of throwing herself at the most gorgeous man in the world with no upfront guarantee he wouldn't laugh in her face.

  `I think I can do something about that.' Off the bed in one lithe bound, he picked her up as though she were a size eight and not a size twelve going on fourteen, and carried her over to the bed.

  She closed her eyes, feeling his mouth touch the pulse spot at the base of her throat. She let out a deep sigh as his big, clever hands moved over her heavy, aching breasts then across her stomach. One stayed there, resting softly on the feminine curve of her belly, while the other boldly moved lower, sliding between her legs. For a moment Kate's body stiffened in resistance but then her instincts kicked in and she relaxed, opening herself joyfully to his exploratory caresses.

  `Do you like that?' Kate moaned and pushed against his hand. `And that...?' he persisted, reaching deeper inside her.

  Kate gasped, eyelids lifted to reveal her dark passion ­glazed stare. `I don't like anything you do,' she told him. `I love it! I- love the way you look, I love the way you sound, I love your smell and most of all I love what you do to me!' she cried.

  He kissed her then with a deep, drowning desperation that fired her blood. Lips still attached to his, Kate began to rip at his clothes with feverish haste as she looped one long leg across his thigh.

  'Did I mention that you're absolutely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen?' she gasped as he stopped kissing her-which was bad-to assist her frantic efforts to undress him-which was good! `The bits that I've seen, anyhow.'

  Javier laughed, a low husky sound that sent shivers of hot anticipation curling down her spine.

  When she got to see the rest, Kate got a lot less vocal. She felt weak with lust and longing as she hungrily ab­sorbed the rippling strength of his long, lean, tightly mus­cled body as he knelt between her legs. She knew the mind ­blowingly erotic image of his golden body, with its strategic drifts of dark body hair, glistening with need for her, would never fade from her mind.

  `What's the verdict?'

  Kate dragged her eyes upwards. He had room to sound confident; he really was nothing short of spectacular!

  'Don't talk,' she begged, her voice thickening emotion­allv as she reached for him.

  Javier's eyes darkened dramatically as he came down to her brushing the rosy tips of her trembling breasts with his tongue before sliding down lower over her body.

  Back arched, Kate cried out and pushed up towards him, moaning his name, her fingers tangled in his dark hair.

  He licked his way back up to her face, reducing Kate to a mindless, mass of inarticulate craving somewhere along the way.

  Eyes closed tight, she felt him kiss her paper-thin flut­tering lids. A long soundless gasp of anticipation escaped her lips as he parted her legs.

 
His tongue plunged into her mouth at the same moment he plunged into her body, sheathing himself deeply in her tight hot wetness.

  'You hold me so tight,' he whispered against her ear.

  Her body clenched around him. `Oh. God, Javier!' she gasped brokenly, nipping frantically at his neck and shoul­ders with her teeth. His face above her was a mask of dark, primitive need that fuelled the raw urgency coursing through her blood.

  'Please.' she breathed into his mouth and he thrust care­fully into her. 'Harder...!'

  Her ragged plea had an electrifying effect upon him.

  Later as she lay there, her body throbbing with con­tentment. Kate recalled with a bemused smile the moment something inside her had recognised and instinctively re­sponded to the savagery in his wild possession.

  While the sweat cooled on their bodies, she lay there in the darkness, stroking Javier's dark head as it lay nestled between her breasts. She was still awake when he awoke hours later and turned once more to her.

  His lovemaking was less urgent but no less sweet the second time and if anything her release, because he delayed it so long, was even more shattering. Afterwards she did sleep and when she awoke it was light and she was alone.

  She didn't cry; crying would have been some sort of release and Kate couldn't find that. She doubted she ever would.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE head of Chambers, a normally morose character, was quite animated when he came across to their table to per­sonally congratulate Kate on the way she'd handled the Benton case.

  Kate smiled uncomfortably as she listened to the glowing comments he made about the combination of inspiration and dedication embodied in her attitude that was making her such an extremely valuable member of the team.

  `Another bottle of bubbly, I think,' her date for the night cried as the older, man returned to his own table. He lifted his glass to Kate, unable to prevent a shade of jealousy creeping into his bright toast. `Who's a clever girl, then? Quite the teacher's pet.'

  'It was a bit over the top, wasn't it? I expect he's had a bit too much to drink.' She smiled, trying to play down the incident. She was well aware that Ian's competitive nature resented her recent successes.

  In truth she felt a bit of a fake, receiving the praise; it was not dedication or a desire to outshine her contempo­raries that had made her throw herself body and soul into her work, but a need to fill the hours.

  In theory, since she arrived at the office long before everyone else and left her desk long after everyone else, usually piled high with briefs, she shouldn't have been left with any time to think. Unfortunately the great yawning gap between theory and practice meant that no matter how hard she worked or how exhausted she was when she fell into bed, Javier was never very far from her thoughts at any time.

  The most ridiculous things reminded her of him. She'd never noticed before how many unusually tall men there were in London; as for Spanish accents, she couldn't catch a bus or the Tube without hearing one... ! Not that any of them had possessed Javier's incredible velvet drawl.

  When one of the secretaries had returned from her hol­iday in Majorca, waxing lyrical about her experiences there, it had taken Kate half an hour locked in the ladies' room to compose herself... and night time was definitely the worst. Then the memories crowded in, leaving her to toss and turn restlessly all night.

  Fortunately her red eyes that afternoon had gone unno­ticed as did the fact she had returned from Majorca a dif­ferent person to the one who had left. Kate felt sure the very deep differences she felt inside must be mirrored on her face, but amazingly the only thing anyone had com­mented on was the fact she'd begun to wear her contact lenses almost full time.

  `No, can't blame it on the booze,' her date contradicted. 'Sampson's a Quaker, teetotal.'

  `Not for me, thanks, Ian.' Kate smiled, quickly placing her hand over her half-full glass.

  Though normally an undemanding and entertaining com­panion, when he had had too much to drink, as he had now, Ian tended to become loud and sulky; neither quality en­deared him to Kate. Ian was a barrister, as were most of the other people at the glittering charity gathering organised by the Law Society. It was late and there was an atmo­sphere of general jollity. They'd been fed well, they'd en­dured the inevitable speeches from luminaries; now they were all eager to party and Ian was more eager than most.

  `Don't be a wet blanket, Katie,' he slurred. `You haven't had a drop all night.'

  Sandy, sitting opposite Kate threw her friend a sympa­thetic look. Though she hadn't said anything, Kate thought maybe Sandy had her own suspicions about why she was avoiding alcohol.

  `I'll have some of that, thanks, Ian,' she cried cheerfully, pushing her own glass towards him. `I think old Sampson must be worried about you being headhunted, Kate.'

  Though Sandy's actions achieved the desired purpose of distracting Ian from his determination to fill Kate's glass, they didn't improve his disposition.

  `Then the rumours are true, you have had an offer from Hargreaves and St John!' he exclaimed with a scowl. `Must be a big help to climb the greasy pole when Daddy's there to put a word or two in the right ear,' he reflected bitterly.

  `Out of order, Ian, old boy,' the man beside him said quietly. `Kate is a damned good advocate and you know it.'

  The sound of the placid old Etonian drawl acted like a red rag to a bull on Ian in his present ugly mood. `Shove it, Toby, old boy!' he snarled, his complexion deepening to an unattractive red.

  Kate was relieved by the fresh distraction afforded when the two women who'd been missing from the table retook their seats. They both looked animated.

  `You'll never guess who we've just seen...!' one cried. `I'm only guessing if you narrow the odds,' Kate re­sponded. `Give us a clue-actress, politician, royalty...? 'Not a she, a he.'`The sort of man you'd find in the ladies' loo...?' Kate pretended to think hard. `That doesn't narrow the odds much,' she complained and everyone laughed.

  `We didn't see him in the loo, he was just coming in with the minister of ...you know, the politician that wrote that thriller.'

  `Now that narrows the odds even less,' Toby reflected drily. `Your lack of political awareness is staggering, dar­ling,' he continued smoothly drawing his pretty partner to her feet and dragging her towards the dance floor.

  `Go on,' Sandy urged the remaining talebearer, once the couple were gone, `tell us who this exciting person is before you implode. My money's on let me see...Brad Pitt...' she decided with a lascivious smile.

  `Optimist,' Kate chuckled.

  `Much better than that,' came the smug response. `Oh, God, I don't believe it...' she gasped suddenly, her face going pale. `Don't look now, but I think ...yes,' she hissed, `he's coming over here!'

  `Dance with me, Kate,' Ian, who had been watching with a scowl as Toby smooched across the floor gracefully with his pretty girlfriend, said abruptly. `That idiot really loves himself, doesn't he?' he brooded irritably to nobody in par­ticular.

  `Thanks, Ian, but I'm not really in the mood...' Not anx­ious to inflame the situation, Kate softened her refusal with a smile.

  His eyes still on Toby, Ian rose unsteadily from his chair. `I'll get you in the mood,' he boasted aggressively, grab­bing Kate's wrist.

  `I really don't want to dance, Ian,' Kate insisted, trying to pull her hand free from his grip.

  Being breathed on by someone whose breath was forty per cent proof was not her idea of fun, and she wouldn't have put it past Ian in his present mood to pick a fight with Toby on the dance floor. She was deeply regretting ac­cepting his invitation, if `we might as well go together' could be termed as such. These occasions could be awk­ward if you went solo.

  `Of course you do...'

  A voice of steel and ice from behind Kate softly contra­dicted this sulky claim.

  `The lady does not wish to dance with you.'

  Kate froze, all the colour rushing from her face, only to be replaced seconds later by a flood of colour. Her heart was po
unding so hard she could hardly hear her own jum­bled thoughts.

  An irritated snarl on his face, Ian spun around. Under normal circumstances, his sense of self-preservation would have been immediately activated by the size and character of his adversary, but the alcohol in his veins made him reluctant to back down. Drunk or not, though, he couldn't hold that scornful shimmering blue gaze for more than a nanosecond.

  'What's it to you...?'

  Kate deliberately didn't make the same mistake as Ian and look at the intruder. Choice didn't enter into the deci­sion: she simply didn't trust her body not to betray her in some weak shameful way if she permitted it a glimpse of what it had been too long starved of. His voice, the faint familiar scent of his cologne that made her nostrils flare was alreadv doing some very alarming things to her ner­vous system. Any second now someone was going to notice she was shaking like a leaf. What unkind twist of fate had brought him here tonight...?

  'Ian leave it,' Kate breathed urgently. In considerable agitation she rose unsteadily to her feet. She forced her lips to smile and clutched the table with her free hand for sup­port. 'Leave it alone: I'll dance with you.'

  Still she didn't look at him. She was desperately trying to compose her traumatized thoughts.

  Think... think... As tempting as the idea was, she couldn't follow her first impulse and hide under the table ­up and coming barristers in slinky strapless ball gowns did not scrabble about on the floor without exciting unwanted attention. No, somehow she had to deal with the fact this wasn't one of her fantasies; Javier really was here in the flesh... Don't think flesh, Katie!

  Her resolve weakened and she couldn't resist the over­powering desire to turn her head and risked a furtive peek from under her lashes-the pit of her stomach vanished into a black hole. Caution and self-respect forgotten, she stared hungrily.

  He looked exactly how she remembered, only more... !

  Six feet four inches of mouthwateringly delicious, ram­pant masculinity. Moreover, he looked perfectly at home in his surroundings and supremely, shockingly sexy in a dark, well-cut evening jacket.