There was a subject which he had completely ignored, of course. Kimberley struggled to keep her voice steady as she asked the question. ‘And is that it?’
‘It?’ He gave a cruel and suddenly ruthless smile, as though he’d guessed exactly what was on her mind. ‘Could you be a little more specific?’
‘You know exactly what I mean!’ she said bitterly, the colour flooding her pale face.
‘Do I?’ he murmured, moving closer as with one finger he outlined each of her dark, bold eyebrows, as though he’d been painting them.
‘Ye-es,’ she said shakily, wishing that he wouldn’t do that, and yet making no attempt to stop him because her skin was rejoicing in the sensual caress of his touch. Touch was dangerous. The slightest brush of his fingertip sent little shivers of sensation rippling from the point of contact to every single nerve-ending in her body.
‘You have,’ he murmured, ‘such exceptionally fine eyebrows—so strong and so exquisitely shaped. Pre-Raphaelite, in fact. Almost as beautifully shaped as your lips, which are just crying out— aren’t they, Kimberley,’ he whispered, ‘to be kissed?’
The temptation was overpowering; his face was so close, his mouth was so close…so very temptingly close. She stared into those eyes, now smoky with passion, with want, with need, and he must have read her own helpless surrender, for he bent his head to take her mouth softly in a kiss.
Kimberley’s eyes fluttered to a close as she succumbed to that sweet, heady sensation, the melting flood of desire flooding her veins immediately, kickstarting her senses into glorious, forgotten life. And what had started as pliant submission vanished as she put her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back, with a hunger of such raw and sensual depth that she began to tremble uncontrollably.
He felt her give-away, blatant response to his kiss and he muttered something inaudible against her mouth and began to kiss her, as though her instant and unhidden hunger had driven him over the edge of reason and towards insanity, as if the cool, calculating man of a few moments ago had been vanquished forever.
His mouth was now on the slim, pale column of her neck, and he was pushing the thick silken ropes of black hair back over her shoulders impatiently, as if he wanted to expose more flesh. And more. He began to undo the buttons of her lemon shirt, each one slipping aside easily so that it slithered open, revealing her lush and swollen breasts. She watched while his eyes darkened, saw him urgently unclip the bra, barely waiting until her breasts came tumbling out, free and unfettered, before his head swooped to take one swollen and erect nipple possessively into the hot, passionate cavern of his mouth.
Kimberley almost fainted with pleasure, a small gasp escaping her lips, and he released her breast at once, looking up at her, his eyes hopelessly dazed.
‘Am I hurting you?’
She shook her head; never in his arms could he hurt her—in that place he offered only pleasure of untold delight. ‘Oh, no.’
‘Do you like it?’ he murmured. ‘Shall I do it again?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like this?’ he whispered as his mouth closed over the pointed peak once more.
‘Just like that.’ She made the throaty assertion without thinking. ‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed ecstatically. She just couldn’t stop herself. Later she might despise herself, but for the moment she was at the mercy of the sweet command he seemed to exert over her body, and at the mercy of her feelings for him—her love and her need.
For she loved Harrison; she had loved him from the first moment he had taken her into his arms, and despite all her protestations that love had never really diminished. She had lain with him and borne his child, and right now—powerful and primitivecame the sweeping desire from deep within her to have this man who had impregnated her, to have him fill her with his need once more.
His mouth tugged and suckled at her again, and the dizzy darts of pleasure swam through her veins as thick and sweet as honey.
‘Touch me,’ he whispered against her breast. ‘Kimberley. Touch me.’
The almost helpless appeal in his voice turned her on unbearably—and she had done this to him. She had the power to disintegrate that cool exterior, that hard ruthlessness he had demonstrated so often, and turn him into this man who was going out of his mind for her.
She touched his chest lightly, touched the nipples through his shirt, and he moved his hand up her leg beneath her skirt, his fingers running luxuriously around the lacy rim of her stockingtop.
‘Now touch me as I’m going to touch you,’ he ordered in a velvety whisper.
And she did. She let her hand stray down to find his hardness. And, oh, yes—he wanted her. He really wanted her. She moved her hips, inviting him to touch her where he’d promised, but instead he moved to lie on top of her, shaking his head, barely able to speak coherently.
‘Not here. We’d better go upstairs to bed. Sarah might——’
Sarah? The unfamiliar name darted into the mists of Kimberley’s befuddled mind, and just the mention of the nanny’s name brought the uneasy situation back into sharp and distressing reality. She moved away, wriggling out from beneath him, and positioned herself at the end of the sofa, her face averted, burning with shame, afraid to look at him until she had her desire for him under control. Because she was in such a highly volatile state that one look from him and she would go under yet again.
She fumbled with her bra.
‘Can I help?’ There was hateful amusement in his voice, and this infuriated her more than anything. Any other man would have been angry; she was angry—and so het up that it hurt. Whereas he had himself firmly under control. She didn’t bother to reply, just reclipped her bra and rebuttoned her shirt calmly, as though that were the kind of thing she did regularly.
‘Now,’ he murmured, ‘just what were we talking about? Remind me.’
‘Don’t be obtuse, Harrison,’ she bit back, goaded by his attitude.
He clapped his hand on to his forehead in mock brainwave. ‘Eureka! I’ve remembered—we were debating the nebulous subject of “it”. By “it”,’ he continued, still in that hateful, mocking voice, ‘I assume you want to know whether I will require you in my bed at night? Well, I think we’ve just demonstrated very effectively what the answer to that is.’
She felt like slapping him in the face as hard as she possibly could, but she was in no position to play the shrinking violet, whose reputation he had besmirched with his words.
But he wouldn’t talk to her as though she were…as though…‘Don’t you dare speak to me as though I’m some kind of whore, Harrison. I won’t tolerate it.’
He laughed then, but it was a bitter, empty laugh. ‘No? But I thought you had your price for everything, Kimberley—or perhaps you prefer to deny that, with the benefit of hindsight?’
She gave a heavy sigh as she remembered what she’d done. Oh, the impetuous behaviour of youth. A crazy stone thrown into the pond, and still the ripples reverberated down through the years. ‘You’re referring to the money you gave me to stay away from Duncan, I suppose?’
‘That was, as I recall, the only time I offered you money. And rather a lot of it, too.’
The tension showed in the brittleness of her laugh. ‘If only you knew the truth about why I accepted that money, Harrison!’
‘Oh, I’d love to. Try me.’
‘You’d never believe it in a million years…’
‘Try me?’ he invited again.
She shook her head. She was weak enough, and if he ever found out about her unrequited love for him it would make her weaker still. How he would play with her if he had any idea of the foolish love she’d harboured for him over all these years. She wondered whether he would ever forgive her for saying that she wanted Georgia adopted. She very much doubted it. And imagine how sweet he could make his revenge if he suspected the true depth of her emotional attachment to him.
‘So we still haven’t settled the subject of conjugal rights,’ he persisted. ‘But I’d like to r
eassure you that it’s entirely up to you. I certainly shan’t force you.’ But the mocking tone spoke for itself—I wouldn’t need to! ‘Personally,’ he continued, ‘I would like to make it a marriage in the complete sense of the word.’ And his eyes glittered like a stormy sea, sparkling with sexual anticipation, and she had to steel herself not to respond to their compelling light.
Because it could never be a ‘complete’ marriage, she thought sadly. Complete marriages meant that there was love, too—and there was no love between her and Harrison. None on his side, anyway—and wouldn’t it grind away at her self-respect if she submitted to him? Knowing that she was nothing but a body he found irresistible—and for how long?
‘However,’ he continued, ‘I can quite understand if you find the idea of sleeping with me distasteful. If, for example, you require a little more variety in your sex-life than I can provide. But if that’s the case, my dear Kimberley, then count me out. I have to tell you that I will not share you. I am not——’ his eyes glittered again, but this time with menace, with an underlying threat ‘—a sharing kind of man. All I would ask is that you be discreet—I won’t have our daughter’s name sullied by her schoolfriends knowing that her mother is a tramp.’
Kimberley swallowed the bile which had risen in her throat. His regard for her really could sink no lower than it was at the moment.
‘Your answer, my dear?’ he asked mockingly.
She lifted her small chin proudly. ‘You mean, to your very sweetly couched proposal?’ she mocked him back.
‘The very same,’ he agreed gravely.
‘It sounds worse than hell.’
‘But that depends on your perception, surely?’
‘And what’s the alternative?’ She twisted her hands together in her lap. ‘To this farce of a marriage?’
There was a cruel smile. ‘No alternative. Leastways, not one which you would find acceptable. If you refuse me, then we go to court and we have one hell of a custody battle on our hands. The costs,’ he mused, with deliberate emphasis, ‘could be astronomical. Do you think that you could afford to pay them, Kimberley?’
He knew she couldn’t. He had her in every which way he could—and he knew that, too.
She stared angrily into the stormy grey eyes.
Some day, she vowed, Harrison Nash would live to regret what he was forcing her into.
CHAPTER NINE
‘OH, KIMBERLEY, darling,’ said Mrs Ryan wistfully. ‘You look absolutely beautiful!’
‘Do I?’ Kimberley stared into the full-length mirror of her mother’s bedroom to see a stranger, who looked exactly like her, all dressed up in her bridal finery.
‘Mmm. Quite radiant—I can’t wait to see Harrison’s face!’
I can, thought Kimberley gloomily. The only thing I’m likely to see on Harrison’s face is lust. Or contempt. Sometimes, in fact, she was cheered even to see that. At least it meant he was reacting to her with his mind rather than just his body.
In the past seven days since she’d been living with him—well, it wasn’t exactly living with him, more like co-existing separately in the same house—she had barely seen him. He had been working all the hours that God sent. He played for an hour with Georgia early in the morning before he left for work, while Kimberley was still in bed, returning late in the evening, by which time she’d fallen back into bed, exhausted. But at least, she supposed, that cut down on the row situation.
She had been left alone with Georgia and the dreaded Sarah. Sarah who seemed to eat away at her self-confidence, telling her that everything she did for Georgia was wrong.
Her prim little face would light up with delight as she imparted yet another snippet. ‘Oh, no, Miss Ryan——’ she never missed an opportunity to rub in Kimberley’s single status ‘—we shouldn’t breastfeed on demand! Baby will start to rule the roost, won’t she? And that isn’t good for her. Routine—that’s what babies like. Now, why don’t you let me bath her, while you go and put your feet up?’
Kimberley could have screamed, if she’d had the energy to scream, but Georgia was a fractious baby at night, waking several times regularly. This, too, was Kimberley’s fault, according to Sarah, because she didn’t give Georgia enough ‘firm handling’.
It was all very well having a nanny, thought Kimberley wearily one night, as she padded barefooted from her bedroom to the nursery next door, but they didn’t give a hand during the small hours of the morning, when you were so tired you felt like dropping. She had tried to catch up on sleep during the day, but that was when sleep stubbornly refused to come, her mind so bound up with the situation she was in, with wondering why Harrison came in so late every evening, whether the fact that she had not taken him up on his offer to share his bedroom had anything to do with it.
Well, at least Sarah wouldn’t be able to look down her nose at her for being an unmarried mother any more, because today she and Harrison were getting married, and in some considerable style, too.
Kimberley had thought it only appropriate—what with Georgia and all—to have a quick ceremony in a register office somewhere in London.
‘And I suppose you’d like to pick up a couple of witnesses off the street?’ Harrison had snarled. ‘Just to really devalue it!’
She had tried to be reasonable. ‘Well, it’s not as though either of us are doing it because we want to, is it?’
And a funny little cold expression had creased the handsome face. ‘No, of course it isn’t, Kimberley.’
He had argued that she had denied her mother her pregnancy, and that being an only child she ought to allow her to participate in the wedding. ‘And I know my mother would like to watch us get married,’ he had added. ‘My brother and Caroline, too.’
Now that had made her feel odd. ‘OK,’ she’d agreed. ‘You obviously want to get married near Woolton.’
‘In Woolton,’ he contradicted.
‘But the nearest register office is in——’
‘I don’t want to get married in a register office, Kimberley,’ he had said. ‘I want us to get married in a church. The church at Woolton.’ He must have seen her disbelieving expression. ‘For Georgia,’ he had added.
Of course. He would move mountains for that child. If only…She blocked the thought as she stared at her wedding ensemble. There were to be no ‘if only’s in her life, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.
She had refused point-blank to get married in white—not with a two-week-old baby. Her mother had talked her into cream, however—and if she had only known it, the cream silk brought out the faint roses in her cheeks and warmed her pale skin where white would have drained it.
It was a simple dress, with a scoop neck and cap sleeves, and it came to just above the knee. She wore cream court shoes and a cream hat. The hat was her one big expense and her one frivolity, and it had cost more than the dress and shoes put together! It was a jaunty top hat in cream, from which floated a shoulder-length piece of tulle. She wore her shiny black hair pulled back from her face in a soft pleat, and the stark simplicity of the style suited her.
‘You look so young,’ said her mother wistfully. ‘And so innocent.’
‘Hardly innocent,’ responded Kimberley drily. ‘Not with a two-week-old baby!’
‘Little treasure!’ said Mrs Ryan fiercely. ‘And don’t you worry about that! Nearly everyone does it this way round these days. It’s how you feel about each other that matters.’
Kimberley paused in the process of applying a light coat of pink lipstick. She couldn’t let her mother carry on living in cloud-cuckoo-land about her and Harrison; she really couldn’t. ‘Motherabout me and Harrison——’
‘I’m so lucky,’ her mother almost crooned. ‘To have him for a son-in-law. I really like him.’ Her still exceptionally fine blue eyes sparkled with merriment. ‘And I always suspected that there was something going on between the two of you—so did his mother. Especially after the party at their house. That’s why I went to him to find out why you hadn�
�t been in touch. Of course, I can’t say that it wasn’t a shock to find out that it was because you were pregnant, but still…All’s well that ends well.’
And Kimberley knew that she would never be able to disillusion her mother about her true relationship with Harrison.
Her mother clipped a pearl hatpin in place. ‘You’re not having a honeymoon, then?’
‘No.’ Thank God. ‘I’m feeding Georgia, and…’ There was no reason to have a honeymoon in a marriage where there was no love involved.
‘No matter,’ said Mrs Ryan briskly. ‘You’re fortunate enough to be going back to a beautiful home—a lot of couples don’t have that. There’ll be time for honeymoons later. I just wish that your father was alive to see you.’ She dabbed briefly at her eyes with a lace handkerchief, then pulled her shoulders back in a no-nonsense gesture. ‘Come along, now, Kimberley—you don’t want to be late for your own wedding!’
And in an attempt to cheer her mother up, and convince her that all was well, Kimberley was able to joke, ‘But brides are supposed to be late for their own weddings, Mum!’
They walked the short distance to the church, and Kimberley was still smiling at something her mother had said to her when she walked into a church filled to bursting with flowers and saw Harrison waiting for her at the altar. Her heart turned over with love. He had chosen Duncan for his best man, and an intense and narrow-eyed look had come into his face when he’d asked her whether she minded that.
‘I don’t,’ she’d answered. ‘But Duncan might.’
But Duncan had not minded. In fact, he had been delighted, and so had Caroline, now his wife.
The buzz of conversation from the small congregation died down as Kimberley appeared in the nave of the church, and Harrison immediately turned round, his face impossibly grave and handsome, the suit he wore emphasising his height, the powerful breadth of shoulder, the long, elegant thrust of his legs. Sitting in the front pew to his right, his mother cradled Georgia, who was decked out for the day in an impossibly frilly white baby dress, bought especially from Harrods for the occasion by her father.
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