Night, Sea, And Stars

by Heather Graham

  She smiled slowly. “Okay, Michael. I won’t question you anymore. And I’ll give your suggestion some real thought.”

  “Good." Michael clicked his glass with hers. “Now, I wanted to ask you about something else. Wouldn’t you like to ask your sister-in-law to California for a while?”

  Skye glanced at Michael with surprise, then chuckled. “Does that mean you would like me to ask Virginia to San Francisco?”

  Michael shrugged and bit his lip sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess that’s exactly what I mean. I—uh—” He paused, looking pained for a moment. “I’m sorry, Skye, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Kyle told me about your brother. I understand you were twins, very close. I don’t suppose—”

  “Michael,” Skye said with a firm smile, “I’ll be happy to have Virginia here—and happier still if you and Virginia want to see one another. When Steven was alive, Virginia adored him. She was a wonderful wife. She is a lady full of love and devotion, and Steven himself would be the first to wish her happiness now.” There, she thought, that was so easy to say—and mean. All because of Kyle. He had allowed her to accept Steven’s death, he had lifted her fear of the darkness. He had really done so many wonderful things for her, and she had never told him… she had never risked saying “I love you.”

  Michael’s eyes were twinkling. He lifted his glass in another salute. “Steven was a lucky man. He had a beautiful wife, and a magnificent sister too.”

  “Thanks.” Skye started to laugh, but her chuckle died in her throat. Everything about her froze.

  She couldn’t believe the vision before her eyes. Kyle was walking into the restaurant, escorting Lisa, beautiful and statuesque as ever. Her silver-blond head was tilted back, rose lips were pouted in a smile, laughter tinkled lightly from them.

  “Skye, what is it?” Michael, with his back to the pair, twisted just in time to see Kyle seating Lisa. “Oh, Lord,” he groaned. “What the hell is that brother of mine doing? This is my fault—I should have never brought you here, I know Kyle comes here for lunch…”

  Skye wasn’t listening to Michael, because at that moment, Lisa’s eyes rose to meet hers. The older woman’s gaze swept over her torso, turned dark and malicious. Kyle saw that Lisa was looking at something and turned with a frown to see Michael and Skye.

  Skye met his gaze with shock; she was further stunned to realize vaguely that she had never seen his face more drawn, more taut, more hard.

  But Skye couldn't hear what Kyle was hearing—Lisa’s voice, a venomous hiss. “So that’s it, Kyle, your mistress is pregnant. That’s why you're willing to be so generous. Well, you’re crazy, now I’ll certainly never let go.”

  “Shut up, Lisa,” Kyle said curtly, scathing her with his eyes. Then he left her abruptly, striding with pain and purpose toward Skye and his brother.

  Skye was regally on her feet before he reached their table, with Michael quickly hopping up to join her. “Don’t, Kyle,” she warned in a quiet hiss as he began to reach for her. “Don't! Don’t touch me. Michael, please take me out of here.”

  “Skye—” Kyle impatiently reached once more to take her arm.

  “Kyle,” Michael interrupted softly, “let me take Skye home. We’re really not in the best of circumstances…”

  Apparently Kyle judged his brother’s decision wise. His eyes didn’t lose a hint of their frigidity. They seared into Skye's. “All right. I’ll be there myself shortly.”

  Skye had to look up to meet his eyes, but she returned his piercing glare with a royal dignity. “I’ll be gone, Mr. Jagger.”

  Michael was moving swiftly to escort Skye out, but Kyle managed to get a whisper to her ear alone. “Don’t think of leaving, Skye. I’ll find you wherever you are. You have no right to walk out on me without understanding—”

  “Right! There is no right where we’re concerned. Go ask your wife, Mr. Jagger. She’ll tell you. Men have no rights where their mistresses are concerned.”

  “I have every right to you, Skye, that child is mine. And I will have you—”

  “The law—”

  “Won’t be able to stop me. You be there to talk to me, or when I find you, you'll find yourself abducted and living on another deserted island.”

  Skye gave Michael an inquiring gaze. “May we leave, please?” They were leaving the restaurant. Skye walked without haste, coolly disdaining the eyes that were upon her with a simple pride that eroded even Lisa's complacency. It wasn’t until she was closeted with Michael in the Ferrari that she began to shake.

  “Skye…” Michael began.

  “Please, Michael,” Skye begged. “Please, let’s not talk.” She didn’t want to cry. She couldn’t cry. She was going to return to Montfort and pack her bags. Nothing, nothing Kyle could say would change her mind.

  * * * * *

  Kyle returned to his table, but he didn’t sit down. “Lisa, as long as I live, I’ll never forgive you for this outrage. I fully intend to tell Christian about today, although I’m sorry I must because you are his mother. But I want him to understand why I don’t ever want you to call the house, and why, if you are ever seen, with just one foot on the property, I intend to call the police and have you forcibly removed. I’m also going to file for the annulment. No bluff this time. I’ll tell Chris the truth myself.”

  “You’re a fool, Kyle Jagger,” Lisa said, lowering her voice with a touch of a quaver. “She won’t have you unless it’s marriage, and you’re like a lovesick old man—too old. If you succeed with this marriage, you’ll get to spend your years wondering what young buck your wife is bedding with—”

  “No, Lisa,” Kyle said calmly, “that was my marriage with you.” He turned on his heel and stalked out of the restaurant, damning himself all the while. He'd been insane to make the polite attempt to reason with Lisa one last time. There was no reasoning with her, and now Skye was furious. More than furious, she was humiliated And he hadn’t been able to do a thing. She would be trying right now to walk out of his life, and God help him, he really couldn’t stop her and so he was making matters worse with absurd threats. I could strangle Lisa, he thought bitterly.

  Kyle drove the hills and winding roads of San Francisco at a foolhardy pace. He thought of the cool, controlled dignity with which Skye had left the restaurant. He thought of how much he loved her, how much he needed her there at night, how he loved to feel the growing rise of her belly, how the strange innocence of hers was a unique and tantalizing contradiction to the insatiable passion he could create within her.

  He ground his teeth. Outwardly, he could handle Lisa’s taunts. But she knew where to strike. At the absurd age of forty Kyle was finding himself the victim of a gut-ripping insecurity. Was Lisa right? Did Skye think him old? Did she ever envision a younger man when he held her in his arms? Did she wish herself back with Ted, a man almost a decade his junior?

  His facial skin, already so taut that it hurt, tautened further. Marriage. She wanted marriage. And more than anything in the world, he wanted to give her marriage. If she only loved him…

  She didn’t love him; not even in the greatest throes of passion could he get her to say those words.

  Kyle jerked the car into Montfort’s circular driveway, not even bothering to shut the door as he stormed into the house. He was thankful no one was present to see his thunderous climb up the staircase, or to hear the sharp retort of his bedroom door as he slammed it behind him, immediately accosting Skye as she threw things haphazardly into her luggage.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he roared, catching her arms.

  She didn’t fight him; she went limp, staring at him with her beautiful amber cat eyes completely devoid of emotion. “I’m leaving.”

  Everything within Kyle went to war. His heart was thumping furiously, his muscles twitched. He fought for deep breaths. “No, you’re not.”

  “Kyle,” Skye said with that same lack of emotion that was in her eyes, “I have never been more humiliated in my life. This situa
tion is never going to change. That woman leads you around by the nose. She publicly labels me a… a… oh, never mind, and you do nothing about it!”

  “What did you want me to do? Bloody her lip? Break her jaw?”

  “No,” Skye said. “I just want you to let me go.”

  Kyle released her and walked to the door, leaning against it and crossing his arms. Skye went to another drawer and drew out a handful of stockings to toss into her suitcase.

  “I can’t let you go, Skye,” Kyle said softly. “That child is mine.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?” Skye queried lightly. “Because I do intend to leave. I waited to talk to you, which is what you requested. Well, we're talking. And then I’m leaving.”

  It was ridiculous; they were at one of the most critical points of their entire relationship, but as Kyle watched her move with precise, fluid, and determined grace, he could think only of how much he wanted her. Her pregnancy, if anything, had made her even more desirable. Her delicacy was still with her; the curvature of her breasts had increased. Her hips had remained slender, and the rise that was his child didn’t at all detract from a lithe shapeliness that was eternally hers. He wanted to talk; he found himself returning to her, halting her in mid-stride, and forcing her into his arms. His lips descended upon hers; he felt the flare of response, but then she was pulling away, murmuring, “No.” He held her still. “This can’t change things, Kyle.”

  “I want you,” he told her, eyes piercing hers darkly. “Now.”

  “Kyle, no—”

  "We’re at an impasse, you say,” he told her harshly, hands rising so that his fingers might thread through the sides of her hair and force her gaze to remain locked with his. “That means it’s time to strike a bargain. I’m sorry about today. Very sorry. I can’t change it. But if you’ll stay, I’ll play that card against Lisa. No more bluff.”

  When the words were out of his mouth he wondered at what he had said. Chris, he thought sinkingly, what have I done? But I’m cornered, I owe this child as I owe you. I never meant it to become real, but I am cornered, backed against a wall.

  And for just a second he knew too that Skye couldn’t be blamed. She had gone through enough for him.

  And then he was thinking again that it was she who cornered him; and he hated her for the devastation she was causing his heart, but more than anything he loved her.

  Skye watched him with wide eyes, fighting tears. Dear God, didn't he know she didn't want to leave? She didn’t want to force him against a wall, but she would rather take their child and herself somewhere far away from Montfort than be asked to play second place to Lisa’s legal status as Kyle’s wife. At least she would still have her dignity, if not Kyle’s love. She forced herself to sound harsh and skeptical. “How do I know you mean that?”

  “I don’t lie.”

  Skye felt faint. Why can't we really talk? she wondered, gazing into the enigma of eyes that had gone dark and demanding with a hint of bitter cruelty, giving away nothing. I know that I am forcing your hand, she thought painfully, but Kyle, I have no choice. I can’t keep living like this. You won’t explain. What can I believe?

  It was so hard now to remember the days on the island when they had laughed, played, so easily in the surf.

  So hard now with this tension mounting between them. Love and hate and bitterness growing… their bodies hot with anger as if they were about to fuse in passion.

  She could never forget his touch. Certainly not now, not when she could feel the response in her blood simply because he was near. Locked in his embrace she could feel him too thoroughly, feel that she was his, that this hard man, who now shared so little of himself, was hers.

  The fainting sensation was becoming stronger. She was ready to beg out, to back down. But she couldn’t. She had come this far. Whatever he thought of her, she had to force the issue. Now. Bargain, as he said. Use anything…

  “All right,” she said, forcing her voice to be cold, calculating. And then she had to swallow, but she fought valiantly to retain the callous ice of her words. “You use whatever you have to to get free of Lisa, and I’ll stay.”

  His touch upon her suddenly froze; his expression tensed. He was looking beyond her rather than at her.

  She was handing down the ultimatums…

  She was asking him to sell his soul…

  And at the moment he didn’t have it in his power to deny her.

  Skye had no idea of what went through his mind as he stood there for what seemed an eternity, holding her in a vise of steel. He had made a promise to her, but now it looked as if he intended to back down…

  Or did he? He wasn’t letting her go, but he looked horror-struck. What had she asked of him? He looked as if she had asked him to bring her someone’s head on a platter.

  She couldn’t know that to him her demand was even worse. That his mind and heart was torn between her and his son, and the terrible, unquenchable fire that raged through him at the moment.

  Chris, forgive me, he begged.

  What will I do? How will I explain? Do I come to you first? Or do I rush right ahead? Will you despise Skye and this child because it will be my natural heir? I will love this child, Chris, but never more nor less than I love you…

  What have I promised? Dear God, will my son ever forgive me? Have I forfeited my right to his love because of this woman who haunts my blood? I love her, too, heartless bitch that she can be. And God help me, but at this moment, I must have her. She is a fever. I have lost all control; I would sell out to the devil himself.

  When his eyes returned to hers, they burned with something bitter and harsh, their blaze frightening.

  His lips, rough and bruising, took hers. She clung to him, resenting his force, but powerless against it as an equal fire took hold of her senses and she matched the torrid hunger of his demand, raking her fingers through his hair, pressing against the vibrant strength of his chest and thighs. She felt the touch of his desire pulsing against fabric; sweet need took over and her tongue sought his lips, his mouth; her teeth grazed his flesh with a fevered abandon.

  He swept her high into his arms and strode swiftly to the bed, heedless of her clothing as he disrobed her. Buttons went flying from his shirt as he impatiently discarded it. And then he was hovering over her, fitting his body to hers.

  “You do want to be Mrs. Jagger rather badly, don’t you?” he asked with bitter harshness.

  Of course, Skye’s mind cried, because I love you.

  But she didn’t say it, she didn’t even think it for long. She gasped with the violence of his entry; then the fire was an explosion and she, too, whirled into oblivion as storm after storm of sensation swept her away to the frenzied land where all she knew was the sweet, sweet seeking of ecstasy and rapturous release.

  It was Skye who rose. He had tried to hold her, but she slipped from his arms and raced into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Today she didn’t give the whirlpool a glance, but jumped under the shower. The cascade of the water was what she needed to ease her sore body and tumultuous mind.

  A flush rose to her cheeks even beneath the furious assault of the water. He thought that all she cared about was his name, a legitimate position. And that the love she couldn’t withhold from him was nothing but a bargain.

  But how could she tell him otherwise? He left her no room, no opening. He showed her none of his feelings, no clue to his thoughts. And though he had agreed to do what ever terrible thing it was that he had to do to Lisa, today had all come about because he was with Lisa. If the battle between them was so bitter, why had he been so cordially and politely escorting her to lunch?

  That, actually, was the question of the hour.

  Skye wrapped herself in a massive towel and left the shower behind, determined in her present mood to question Kyle, to force it all out on the line.

  But when she strode with purpose to the bed, she froze, chagrined. Kyle was sound asleep.

  She was annoyed en
ough at first that she considered waking him by snatching his pillow from beneath him and smacking him over the head. How the hell could he sleep after their bitter words and volatile coupling? She reached for the pillow, then paused. He looked so tired. The tiny lines around his eyes appeared deeper. Her fingers hovered over the hair on his forehead, then she pulled them back. She couldn’t wake him, but neither could she touch him…

  Skye dressed quickly in a pair of maternity jeans and a sweater and slipped quietly out the door. She wanted to think, away from Kyle, away from his gently sweet mother, away from the curious household. She sped quickly down the staircase, not wanting to run into Michael, if he were still home, or Chris. Apparently everyone was busy. The staircase and entryway were empty.

  Skye threw open the door—and walked straight into Chris Jagger, who was just entering the house. “Hi, Skye.” He smiled. But his smile faded. It seemed he sensed the turmoil locked in the depths of her amber eyes.

  “Hi, Chris,” Skye murmured uneasily. Oh, Lord, she thought, of all the people she didn’t want to see now.

  “You look like you’re trying to escape,” Chris said. It was meant to sound like a joke. It didn’t.

  “I was just going for a walk,” Skye said.

  Chris hesitated, watching her with those deep brown eyes that were always so hard to fathom. “Would you come for a ride with me instead, Skye?” he finally asked.

  “Oh, uh, Chris…” Skye hedged. “I, um, I really wanted a few minutes alone…”

  “Please, Skye,” Chris said with quiet sincerity. Skye found herself studying his pleasant features. He was a decidedly handsome young man, and if he hadn’t inherited his father’s looks, he had certainly inherited his father’s calm and controlled manner. He could persuade you with the power of his eyes.

  “You’ve been quarreling with my father,” he said, a statement gently voiced, not a question. “I'd really like to talk to you. I don’t mean to butt in, but I think I’m the one person in the world who can help. Please, let’s get out of here and talk.”