“Have you had your dinner yet?” he asked Rudy, diverting from the subject. The least he wanted was stressing out the younger kids in the room. Their stunned faces told him they were still getting over the little altercation between Libby and Bridget.
Rudy shook his head in answer to his question. He didn’t bother to respond as he leant back into the settee, panting.
“Well, then,” Lorenzo said, mentally assessing the situation. “Let me whip up something real quick. In the meanwhile Rudy, why don’t you check in on your mother? Just in case she’s been disturbed by this little havoc.”
“I’ll do that,” Bridget said, rising out of her chair. “Since I am partly to blame for the so-called havoc.”
She crawled out of the room, her body limp and tired.
Lorenzo ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration and then made his way to the kitchen. He rummaged through the cupboard and the fridge, looking for incentives to spark a recipe.
“We’ve got some frozen meals,” Rudy said, watching him curiously. “Kate got us a large stock of that. I was just going to heat some up for dinner.”
“Yeah?” Lorenzo replied, as he studied the contents of a can of dried cashew nuts. “You probably could use them when I’m not around.”
He grinned as he showed off his find. “How about some chicken and cashew nuts with pilaf rice?”
“Sounds fancy,” Rudy shrugged. “You sure you got all you need to pull it off?”
“Yep,” said Lorenzo. “I checked. Now, are you gonna stand there and play the critic or are you gonna give me a hand?”
Rudy chuckled. “Yeah sure, why not? After that rumble, I’m hungry as a lion.”
“By the way, are any of you allergic to anything? Cashew nuts?”
Rudy shook his head. “None that I know of.”
“You better ask Bridget before I throw in the nuts.”
Rudy arched an eyebrow. “I saw her once down a pack of cashews all by herself. Does that help?”
Lorenzo chuckled. “Yes, it does. I will just have to trust you on your observations then.”
Rudy laughed. “I’d rather not face the women yet.”
The two boys grinned at each other as Lorenzo popped a frozen chicken fillet into the microwave to defrost it.
*****
Kate took a quick shower, praying not to be caught in the midst of it by Clayton. She wanted to be dressed and under the covers of her bed before he returned.
But when she opened the door of the bathroom, there he was standing in the middle of the room, in the process of removing his shirt. He had unbuttoned it, exposing the taut muscles of his chest. The belt of his trouser was undone and left dangling at each end. His pants had slipped down to reveal his pelvis.
She swallowed nervously, unsure of what to do next. Her body ached to hold him, to feel herself be tormented and tortured by his touch. Her pride pushed her away, keeping him at a safe distance as she skirted the sides of the room to reach for her bag.
“The shower’s free, if you need it,” she uttered without even as glancing at him.
She deliberately had her back turned as she dug into her bag, her mind all the time calculating on where she could get decent without exposing herself to him.
Her heart lurched on suddenly finding that her feet were being dragged off the floor. A small cry escaped her throat as she realized she was being carried into his arms. She writhed within it, slapping at his chest, shaking her legs violently to free herself from him.
“What are you doing? Let me down!”
He threw her onto the bed and she clutched desperately at her towel from slipping away.
“Are you mad?” she screamed at him.
“Only when I see you,” he grinned devilishly.
“You’ve lost your mind, Clayton,” she growled. “Let me get dressed.”
“I much prefer you like this,” he said in a low husky voice, etching closer, his eyes darkening with his pent up desire.
“I will scream,” she whispered.
And he bent down to kiss the soft flesh at the base of her neck, drinking in the pearls of water adorning it. She moaned.
“Go ahead. Everyone would just think you’re having the time of your life,” he muttered against her skin. “After all, we’re engaged. You’re my fiancée.”
Her fingers delved into his hair, tugging his head closer to her bosom. Just hearing she was anything as close as that to him, aroused her even more. Maybe for one night, she could dream of being his real fiancée. To believe she was his lover, his soon-to-be-wife, sharing the pleasures of their intimacy, having a right to his body- every part of it.
He peeled her towel away from her fingers, leaving her bare to his delight. He ran his hands down her body, feeling her contours. He cupped her breasts and she arched towards him, grounding herself against his arousal, needing to feel him.
She reached for his shoulders as he moved to kiss the valley between her breasts. And when he rubbed the flat pad of his thumbs against her taut nipples, she cried and dug her fingers into his back. He suckled her nipples and she arched further into him, wounding her legs around him.
“Clayton, touch me,” she pled.
But he was slow and deliberate, tormenting her more, making her aware that he alone was the master of her body.
He kissed slowly down her quivering stomach until he reached the dark curls covering her sex. He gently parted the lips of her swollen, heated sex and caressed it with his thumbs as he kissed the inner flesh of her thigh. She gasped, thinking she would not be able to take any more. But when he suckled it with his mouth, she cried out in agonizing ecstasy begging him to take her.
Finally when he felt that he was at his own breaking point, he threw away his clothes and thrust into her wetness, driving deeper and deeper into her as she met him stride for stride.
In one further act of a plunge, she felt his arms tighten around her, an orgasmic relief surging through her body as she felt him pour his seed into her.
*****
Clayton awoke in the morning to find Kate nestled against his torso, their naked bodies entwined within each other.
She stirred in her sleep and a simple movement of her buttocks against his groin, hardened him again.
He kissed her shoulders, trailing them down her sides and she moaned without waking. He turned her gently on her back to watch her face. It was those lips he wanted to possess, that which she had denied him for so long.
He looked desirously at it, bringing himself to caress it with his. He entered her slowly and she let out a soft cry, as she tenderly nipped at his lower lip in her ecstasy.
The mere touch of her lips against his own throbbed him achingly in his groin, wishing for her to taste him.
She opened her eyes, widening them in surprise when she realized he was going to kiss her. She stiffened and he felt it immediately.
He pulled back and instead plunged savagely into her, releasing his anger into a long, pleasurable orgasmic relief.
*****
Kate had fallen asleep again, her head on his chest and her hand on his arm as if she were wishing to entrap him.
And in many ways she had. Despite his will, he wanted to keep her at his side forever and despite his raging common sense, he had introduced her to his family as his fiancée, hoping that they would win her over with their heart, knowing he had little chance of doing so himself. Perhaps then, she would consider his offer and stay.
But then he had seen her recoil when he attempted to claim her mouth. He knew instantly that he was far from what she desired. They were sexually compatible, he was aware of that. He could illicit a response from her just by a mere touch of her skin and she would burn in a fervent, heated desire for him to possess her like no man could. But it was her heart he wanted and which she still held back from him.
These were early days, he resolved. And this was just the first of her six days with him. By the end of their visit, she would be begging to stay with him forever
.
*****
Kate awoke to a now empty bed. It was well past eight o’clock. Clayton had by now left the room, leaving it all to her.
She laid her head back, her mind sweeping over their torrid, steamy night. And then this morning, he had held her again in his arms, taking her like no man had ever possessed her. For a fleeting moment, she remembered caressing his lips with her own.
Her fingers flew up to her lips, tracing them, wondering if she had really been so close to kissing him or had she imagined it. She wished he had for she would never have the power to do the deed herself. It would only reveal her love for him and leave her vulnerable in the open. Her love would never be reciprocated from a man such as Clayton. She couldn’t risk letting him know. It would simply make it harder for her to walk away when the time came.
Kate had a quick shower and then pulled on a soft, white dress she had seen in her bag. Whoever had been responsible for choosing her ensembles had done an incredible job. The dress flowed about her freely, loose and yet accentuating her curves. She stood to admire it before the mirror.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine o’clock. It didn’t seem that Clayton would be coming to escort her to breakfast anytime soon. It annoyed her slightly that he didn’t take the initiative to introduce her properly.
She picked up courage and stepped into the hallway. She heard the chatter of loud, happy voices. It appeared more guests had arrived while she had been sleeping.
She stalled momentarily, unsure if she should interrupt them. Her eyes brimmed with tears on hearing their cheery stories as they laughed one off with another, teasing each other. God sure was unjust when he blessed the wealthy with happiness and beautiful families while she suffered a desolate and bleak future with her poor one.
She turned around to walk away. She didn’t belong with them.
Chapter 11
“Kate?” said Grandma Connie. “Where are you going? Come and join us. Have you had breakfast?”
Kate swallowed a nervous pocket of air, trying to stave off the tears in her eyes.
“I was just…,” she started and then realized she was clearly sounding out an excuse. “Thanks, Grandma.”
Grandma Connie held onto her elbow and escorted her into the kitchen.
“You don’t need to be shy, hon. This is after all going to be your family soon.”
Kate gave her a small smile. She was panged with guilt and she hated Clayton to allow such a mean charade to continue.
At the island bench of the open, luxurious kitchen, sat a young blonde woman. Two little boys skipped around at her feet and when she smiled at her, her face brightened, turning up the corners of her amber eyes.
“Hi,” she said, cheerfully. “You’ve got to be Kate.” And she rose from her chair to give her a hug.
“Hello,” Kate said, as she was drawn into her arms. She smelt deliciously beautiful and her shoulder-length hair was soft and bouncy, much to Kate’s envy. She was feminine in every way except for her jaw-line, which remarkably was too similar to Clayton’s.
“I’m Leah,” she said. “Clayton’s sister. Mom told me about the engagement. Congratulations. I’m so happy for both you and Clayton.”
Kate gulped nervously, her heart clenching from the rising nausea in her chest. She wanted to run away. Away from the guilt of deceiving people who were beginning to grow on her, who were forcefully emanating affectionate warmth inside her despite her desperate attempts to stifle it. People she hardly knew and yet she was becoming more obsessed with thoughts of their reactions if and when they discovered the truth about her and her relationship with Clayton.
How would she ever explain herself to them? She didn’t want to know them so she wouldn’t have to care. She didn’t want to be bothered of what they would think of her, or how much they would detest her once the lies were revealed.
Suddenly, the room began to close in on her and she began to sweat profusely. This was Sitka, where temperatures remained moderately cool, she reminded herself.
She wiped the beads of sweat forming on her temples. She only just had her shower. She didn’t want to be sweating when there was no need to. She tried to meditate on the health of her mother and her reasons for putting up with such a wretched farce.
Her eyes darted unconsciously towards the door in the hopes of an escape. But where would she go? She was stuck on an island in the middle of the Alaskan Panhandle.
“Kate, are you alright?” asked Leah, concernedly. “You look awfully pale.”
Kate blinked her eyes, trying to focus on Leah. Her heart beat faster, her consciousness pleading with her to tell them the truth. That she was no shorter than a prostitute; an escort hired to serve Clayton’s sexual whims.
She clutched a tight fist and gave Leah a nervous smile.
“I’m fine,” she said at last, shaking her head. “It must be the long trip that’s taking an effect on me. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be.” Leah rubbed her arms fondly. “Of course, I should have known. Even having travelled so many times from France to Sitka, I still reel from the after-effects of the long journey.”
“And she hasn’t had breakfast either,” chirped in Olivia, Clayton’s mother. “What would you like? Coffee, tea or juice, honey?”
“Coffee, thanks Mrs. Reid.”
“Oh, call me Olivia,” the older woman replied, speaking rapidly as she poured out a cup of hot coffee. “It’s such a mouthful particularly in this day and age. And I’m yet to be prude enough to be formally addressed as Mrs. Reid.”
She placed the coffee before Kate. “Don’t be shy, darling. If you need anything else, you are welcome to rummage through my pantry and cupboards for breakfast. Help yourself to anything you want.”
Having said that, she turned around and began thinly slicing an apple. “I’m making Polish apple pancakes for Clayton. Gave me his breakfast menu before going off on his morning run. You weren’t looking for him, were you?”
It was then that Kate noticed the absence of housekeepers and a cook in the kitchen. There was just the Reid women gathered around the large island bench in an expensive kitchen.
Grandma Connie had risen to look into the oven. A beautiful sweet aroma had filled the air, giving her inkling and a sudden urge to have some cake.
Pulling open the oven door, Grandma revealed the culprit in her small, gloved hands.
“There,” the old woman smiled. “Perfect.”
“You should freeze it for tea, Mother,” said Olivia.
Grandma scowled. “Most definitely not. It’s for my Clayton,” and then added “And my two little chimps here.” She laughed as Leah’s two boys hugged her knees to remind her of their presence. “Yes, yes, I will start glazing it now.”
“It smells delicious,” Kate glanced over at the bundt cake. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one before.”
“Then you’ll love it,” smiled Leah. “Especially Grandma’s. She makes the best blackberry-cream cheese coffee cake.”
“It’s a family recipe,” added in Grandma. “My grandmother passed it on to my mother, my mother to me and I to Olivia and Leah. And now that you’re going to be part of the family, you’re going to have to learn it too.”
Kate froze. She didn’t want to feel guilty. She didn’t need to. It wasn’t she who plotted this contemptible deception. If there was anyone who should feel guilty, it should be Clayton. This was his charade, his family. This had nothing to do with her. She was here because she was hired to play a part and she needed to finish the role with finesse and go back to where she belonged. In the slums of New York. To her family, to her dying mother.
“What’s wrong, Kate?” asked Grandma, leaning towards her.
Kate lifted her head, weakened by her burdening thoughts. “I, I…,” she stammered.
“You don’t like to cook?” asked Grandma. “That’s alright, my dear. You don’t have to. I merely said it because you would soon be marrying my Clayton and I thought you would lik
e it if I passed on to you some of the family traditions. Make you feel a part of the family.” She reached out and patted her hand to comfort her.
“Grandma,” Kate said, worried now of the impact of her reactions on the aging matriarch. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Of course I love to cook. I have been doing it all my life. It’s just that you said it was a family recipe, a family tradition, and Clayton and I aren’t exactly married yet.”
She bit her lip. The frowned looks on the other women in the room, told her she was making a bigger mess of things.
“What I mean,” she tried explaining. “You might want to hold off on passing the baton when you know for sure you’ve got the right Mrs Clayton Reid in the bag.” She ended with a lighter note hoping that they would buy into her joke but instead they looked at her rather awkwardly.
“Did you have a fight with Clayton, dear?” asked Olivia. “Couples have them all the time. That doesn’t mean you’re going to split or divorce because you do. I think it’s good that couples have an argument or so. It makes them work harder at their relationship.”
“Who’s splitting up?” said a male, heavy voice.
The women turned to the kitchen door leading to the veranda. It was Clayton.
“No one is,” said Grandma.
“Kate thinks that she might not make it to her wedding day. Can we ask why?” butted in Leah.
“Leah,” growled the other two women in unison.
“Really?” Clayton raised an eyebrow.
“No,” said Olivia, firmly, giving Leah a warning eye. “Kate was merely making a general conjecture of what things might be if people don’t invest in their relationships.”
“Is that so?” he said, wiping the sweat off his neck with a small towel.
Kate swallowed, trying to avert her eyes. His open jacket and the sleeveless shirt which he wore under it, only made his physique more alluring. He wasn’t overtly bulky like weight-lifting body builders, but slim and firmly defined in all the right places.
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