Conall was already cutting smoothly through the water when Sharon walked out of the changing room and took the ladder down into the pool. The only lights in the cavernous room came from beneath the water. They bounced illumination off the blue-tiled walls in wavering, dreamlike patterns, giving her the feeling that they were in an underwater grotto.
She struck out, her pace slow and steady. She swam the length of the pool and back again, repeating the course until her legs and arms were tired and her lungs were threatening to give out. Then she retreated to the side of the pool to watch Conall as he continued to slice through the water with strong, clean strokes, showing no signs of the fatigue she had seen in him when he first arrived.
Even as a young man he had possessed an exciting power and grace. Now his power was controlled, and his grace had turned to cool elegance. She leaned her head back against the pool’s edge and acknowledged the inevitable. He was still the most exciting man she had ever known.
Suddenly he veered from his straight course and headed toward her. When he stopped, he had trapped her against the wall with a hand on either side of her head.
Water beaded on his broad, muscled shoulders and clung to the thickness of his dark eyelashes; his chest rose and fell rapidly as he drew air into his lungs. The pounding of her heart, she realized, had nothing to do with the exertion of her swim. Without doing anything overtly sexual, without touching her, he was affecting her physically, and she had to be very careful not to let him know. “Feel better?” she asked.
“My headache is completely gone.”
Before she could make a light, casual reply, he leaned down and pressed a deep, wet kiss to her mouth. Her body’s response was instantaneous. Her lips parted of their own volition, accepting his attention with a naturalness that frightened because she had been so absolutely set on resisting.
When he lifted his head, he skimmed his fingertips across her forehead. “How about you? Did the swim release some of that tension?”
She nodded, though she was now coping with a different kind of tension, a type in some ways infinitely more difficult to deal with. “I had to stop, though. I’m obviously not in as good shape as you are.”
He cupped her breast. “There’s nothing in the world wrong with the shape you’re in. In fact, I find it quite alluring.” His caress was light at first, then his thumb began to move back and forth and the pressure of his hand increased, molding the rounded flesh.
Beneath the thin, wet material of her swimsuit, she felt her nipples stiffen. She grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him. “You shouldn't do this. Someone might come in.”
“The pool house is closed this time of night, and I took the added precaution of locking the door.”
“Oh.”
“Feel better about it?” His voice echoed hollowly as if to emphasize that they were the only two people there.
The pool pump was off, the water was still, all was quiet as he waited for her answer. But fighting the rising need had sapped her energies, and desire had closed her throat.
Then his hand moved, sending soft ripples through the water. He delved beneath the top of her suit, tucked its stretch material beneath her breast with a twist of his hand, and took possession of the fullness.
The sound of her gasp rebounded off the walls, parting the quiet.
“We could do anything we want here and no one would interrupt us.”
They were completely isolated due to hour and place, their bodies were slick and scantily clothed, their breath rough and uneven from their laps and their growing passion. In spite of herself, their situation seemed incredibly erotic to her. That it did alarmed her. “Not here, Conall.”
“Why not? It’s a myth, probably made up by some teenage boy, that you can’t get pregnant in a swimming pool.”
“It would be better in bed,” she said, grasping at straws.
“It would be fantastic in bed,” he said, his voice lowering, deepening to a growl, “but I can also make it fantastic here. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes, trust me.”
Suddenly he lifted her, fitting her legs around his waist, and took several turns toward deeper water. Automatically she put her arms around his neck for support. When he stopped, the weight of the water seemed greater, forcing her closer to him. And one bare breast pushed against his chest.
“I get you for two weeks,” he said huskily, “and you get your chance for a baby. From your point of view, I would think the sooner we start, the better your chances would be. From my point of view, the sooner we start, the more often I can have you.”
She supposed what he said made perfect sense. She wasn’t sure, though, because she was having trouble thinking. In the cool, silky water, his body radiated heat to hers. And Lord, how she wanted the heat! She wanted it almost as much as she wanted better to feel the exquisite pressure of his arousal. Without considering the consequences, she wrapped her legs more tightly around him.
He edged his fingers beneath the elastic of her swimsuit bottom. “We have a deal, Sharon, and I can’t wait to begin. I want you now.”
The heat growing low in her body belied her words. “Now is not right.”
“Why not? Is there something else you want? Champagne? Moonlight? Music and flowers? I’m sure before the two weeks is over, you’ll get it all.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what? When you talked about this deal, nothing was said about where or when.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I—I’ve got to go back to my room. ” She pushed away and swam to the end of the pool.
His dark gaze followed her as she climbed out and rushed toward the dressing room, unsure why he had let her slip away from him. His muscles were coiled in readiness to go after her, but he willed himself to stay where he was.
Normally he wasn’t a patient man—he didn’t have to be—and he was certainly feeling anything but patient now. But almost from the first with Sharon, he had gone against his nature and allowed her to call most of the shots—at least when it came to this sexual relationship they were trying to develop.
Everything that was in him told him he could have had her, right there, right then. All it would have taken was a little more persuasion on his part. A few more kisses, a few more caresses, and she would have been his.
His face hardened, took on a more primitive cast. He would have her. It was just a matter of time.
He dove beneath the water, and when he surfaced at the other end of the pool, he turned and began swimming laps again.
Five
Despite his rigorous exercise of the night before, Conall slept fitfully and never achieved a complete state of relaxation. He woke in a bad mood, and didn’t have to ask himself why. He placed an order for coffee, juice, and croissants, then dressed and walked into Sharon’s bedroom.
The sunlight filtering around the edges of the curtain lightened the room and allowed him to see that she was still asleep. Quietly he opened the curtains, then stepped to the bed.
She was lying on her back, her head turned to one side, her hand beside her face, palm up. The sheet had fallen down to her waist, exposing the shimmering blue bodice of her nightgown; one thin strap had fallen off an ivory-hued shoulder. Her hair spread around her head in natural curls. As he studied her, knots of desire formed and constricted in his stomach. More than anything, he wanted to climb into bed beside her. Instead, he reached down and touched a silky brown ringlet, and remembered. ... He had never slept the night through with her, with her head cradled against his shoulder, his body curved around hers.
He silently cursed. What the hell difference did it make? There were several women he had taken to bed with whom he had never slept the night. He turned on his heel and stalked out.
As he left, Sharon slowly exhaled. Without opening her eyes, she had felt his presence and known he was in a dark mood. His tension was so strong, it had an energy and heat all its own, and it had hit against her again
and again.
She understood his tension, first of all because it was her fault, and second, because his mood exactly matched hers.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes to the sunlight and blinked. How could it be morning, she wondered, when it felt as if she had just closed her eyes. She’d tossed and turned for hours, thinking of how it had been in the swimming pool with him, her body locked against his. All through the lonely night she had pondered how easy it should have been for her to let him make love to her and wondered why it hadn’t been. What in the world was wrong with her?
She seemed to be sabotaging her own plans, and for the first time she was beginning to suspect that her reasons for seeking Conall out were much more complex than she had previously admitted to herself. And if that were true, she didn’t have one chance in hell of a happy ending for herself.
She heard a knock on the sitting room door, then the sound of Conall opening it and a cart being wheeled in. It was time to get up, she decided reluctantly.
Minutes later Conall glanced around as she walked into the room. The sight of her made him suck in his breath. She looked unbearably sexy with her hair wild and loose around her shoulders and her bare feet peeking beneath the ragged hem of her chenille robe. Lord, but he wanted her.
“Good, you’re up,” he said in an expressionless tone. “You’re just in time to have a bit of breakfast and join me for a ride.”
“A ride? You mean horses?”
“Yes. Have you ever ridden?”
“I had lessons when I was young, but that was so many years ago.”
His shrug made light of her hesitancy. “It will all come back to you. Besides, well take it at a comfortable pace. It won’t be a steeplechase.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll wait while you eat and change. Did you pack any jeans, by the way?” She nodded.
“Then help yourself to whatever you want,” he said, indicating the table. “I’ll contact the stables and have them saddle another horse.”
Fallen leaves crunched beneath the hooves of the horse Sharon rode. She and Conall had taken the horses on a gallop along the cliffs, then had circled behind SwanSea to follow a path that climbed gently upward through a meadow. Yesterday’s clouds had blown out to sea, leaving the air clear and crisp. Elm and aspen trees splashed bursts of vivid yellow, red, and burnt orange against a crystal-blue sky. It was a glorious day, but Sharon was miserable.
She reached down and patted the warm, damp neck of the sorrel she was riding. Conall’s initial attempt at casual conversation had dwindled, then stopped, and she knew her monosyllabic responses were to blame. Somehow she had to force herself to relax or her dream of a baby of her very own would never come true.
Suddenly her horse shied as a squirrel raced across the path in front of her. Instinctively she pulled back on the reins. The horse shook its head against the restraint, snorting loudly.
Conall quickly urged his horse up beside hers. “Take it easy. Hold him steady.”
He reached out to cover her hand with his, and she started as if he’d burned her.
His face darkened. “The horse can feel your nerves, Sharon.”
“Sorry.”
“Forget it. Why don’t we rest for a while.” He scanned the meadow. “Follow me.”
On a rise that offered a sweeping view of SwanSea and its surroundings, he dismounted, then came around and grasped her by the waist to help her off. Except he didn’t immediately put her down. Instead, he gave in to a compulsion and continued holding her, supporting her weight so that she was caught against him, her feet inches from the ground. He held her there, just long enough to feel the length of her against him, just long enough to have the breeze send a fragrant strand of her hair to brush his face. Just long enough for her breathing to quicken. Just long enough for him to see the fever building in her eyes.
But when a curious panic began to mix with the fever, he set her on her feet and strode away to unbuckle a blanket from the rear of his saddle. He pulled the bridles from both horses and left them to graze.
She watched him, embarrassed at her panicky reaction. She waited until the color receded from her face, then bridged the silence by asking, “Won’t the horses wander off?”
“They won’t go far, and they’ll come when I call.”
“You’ve trained them well. The sorrel is a joy to ride, but I’m afraid I’m going to be sore in a few hours.”
“A soak in the tub should take care of that. ” He spread the blanket over the ground and dropped down onto it.
She sat down beside him, wondering what she could do or say to end the awkwardness between them.
An orange and gold leaf cartwheeled onto the blanket. Eager for something, anything, to do, she reached for it and idly twirled it by its stem.
The panorama before them was breathtaking, with the fiery colors of autumn everywhere, and in the far distance the ocean sparkled diamondlike. The scene that nature had landscaped was beautiful, but SwanSea still managed to dominate. Built in the shape of a giant seashell, the great stone house was at once a part of its surroundings, yet apart from it, with its own unique history, force, and strength. She couldn’t imagine ever being completely comfortable in it.
“What’s it like to be able to call such a house your home?” she asked, genuinely curious.
His head jerked around, as if the sound of her voice had taken him by surprise. “It’s never actually been my home. I grew up in my parents’ home in Boston, but I guess you could say SwanSea was my second home. I spent a lot of holidays and summers here.” He gazed down at the house. “Even though I called her crazy at the time, I’m glad Caitlin brought it to life again for all of us.”
“Us?”
“The family. I never tire of coming here, even with all the guests.”
“Well, you can’t really say the guests get in your way. You have your own private elevator, your own floor, a staff that apparently lives to serve you. You even stable your horses here. ”
He turned back and regarded her thoughtfully. “That’s the most you’ve said all morning.”
She shifted on the blanket as the inner tension that had been with her since she arrived began to rise again. “You haven’t exactly been talkative yourself. ”
“At least I tried.”
“Well, I’m trying now. Okay?”
“Okay. So why are you sitting so far away from me?”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m not. I mean, this blanket isn’t big enough for me to be too far away.”
He gazed pointedly at the wide space between them, then back at her. “See, Sharon, it’s this way. In most circles I’m considered quite bright, but I’m having a hell of a time figuring you out. ” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “There’s no need for you to figure me out.”
“You’re very wrong,” he said, his voice as quiet and as cool as a frost-covered morning. “You want me to get you pregnant. I want you, period. Now, on the surface those two goals would seem compatible, but your signals to me are so mixed, I’m beginning to wonder if . . .”
“What?”
“I’m beginning to doubt if this deal we made is going to work out.”
Her chest tightened with fear. Had she messed things up so badly that he was thinking of backing out? It seemed as if that was just what she had done. Even worse, she knew exactly what he was talking about. Ever since she’d been at SwanSea, her emotions had been spinning out of control, and she'd been acting little better than a tease, giving in to him one minute, pulling away the next.
“Have you changed you mind, Sharon? You don’t want to try this after all?”
“No, no, it’s not that.”
“Then I don’t understand,” he said, turning to her, frustration heavily lacing his voice. “What is it you want? Is it the moonlight and roses I mentioned last night? Or do you want to get reacquainted before we go to bed?”
She shook her head, growing more and more miserable. “Of course not. Thi
s is a business deal.”
“That’s what you keep saying,” he snapped, “but business deals require good faith on both sides, and so far, sweetheart, I’ve seen very little good faith on your part.”
“We’ve been here only twenty-four hours!”
“And we have only two weeks!” He snatched up a pebble from the ground and hurled it as far as he could.
Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears. “Look, it’s just that this is a little harder than I imagined it would be.”
“Why? It’s not as if I make your skin crawl. The couple of times we’ve kissed, I can tell that your instinct is to respond. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, something gets in the way. What is it? Talk to me.”
A hurting pressure was building inside her. It felt as if he were scratching at her flesh, trying to expose something she didn’t want uncovered.
“Dammit, Sharon, is all this deliberate? Is this your way of punishing me?”
“No!” Pain filled her eyes as she gazed at him. “No,” she said more softly. “No, I’m not trying to punish you.”
“Then what?”
She stared toward the distant horizon, but what she saw was a picture of a frightened young girl. “That night, ten years ago, after you came to me and told me the baby I was carrying couldn’t be yours, I went to a park and sat on a bench for hours.”
“By yourself? But it must have been ten, eleven o’clock.”
“I sat there,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him, “and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. And then I thought of ways of getting even with you. Finally, I went home and told my parents I was pregnant, but that the father of the baby wouldn’t acknowledge that it was his. I watched my mother go pale and my father turn and walk out of the room, and I came up with more ways of getting even with you. The night I lost my baby and I was lying on a gurney in a drafty hall of the hospital, all alone, bleeding, and in so much pain I thought I would die, I tried to come up with something that would be bad enough to do to you then too.” Her words came to a halt as her throat clogged and her body shuddered.
The Promise Page 7