Mistess of the Groom

by Susan Napier

'Are you crazy? You could have been killed!' she shrieked angrily as he bounced to his feet, her hands moving helplessly over his arms and heaving chest as if to reassure herself that he was real.

  'Nah ... a broken leg or two at the most,' he said, with infuriating macho insouciance, capturing her wrists and pulling them around his thick waist.

  Her heart was still pounding like a freight train. So was his, she realised as her breasts were crushed against the hard wall of his chest. 'You could have been killed,' she repeated shrilly, almost paralysed by the thought of losing him.

  'Would you have cared if I'd crashed to my doom?' he murmured, his hands sliding up her long, trembling back. 'Maybe you might have thought I deserved it...' She shuddered, burying her head in the damp front of his shirt, her voice muffled with horror. 'What a terrible thing to say.'

  'I know ... we've both said some pretty horrible things to each other in this love/hate relationship of ours, haven't we? That's why I think you're right-we shouldn't talk, talk only gets us into trouble-and, be­sides, actions speak louder than words...'

  And, so saying, he eased back so that he could slant his hands over her shoulders and hook his fingers into the straps of her wet swimsuit, tugging them gently down her arms to bare her breasts to the soft night air, the whiteness of her body accentuated by the contrasting band of black fabric.

  The only protest she could summon was a sigh of longing as he bent to moisten the tight twin peaks.

  'Shh .. .' He smothered her choked murmur with his mouth and picked her up, carrying her across to the soft bed and collapsing down on it backwards so that she sprawled on top of him. He reached out and turned on the bedside lamp without breaking off the kiss, and as the familiar, addictive taste of him began to saturate her senses Jane gave herself up to a primitive world of all­-consuming passion, devoted to the physical expression of the love that she was too afraid to put into words.

  She helped clumsily as Ryan wrestled his shirt and her swimsuit off, throwing them to the floor and tugging her thighs astride him so that he could cup her naked bottom and move her against his undulating hips in a way that made her squirm with pleasure and plead for more. He was about to give it to her when a sharp rap at the door froze them in the midst of their glorious, erotic abandon.

  'Jane-are you all right in there? I thought I heard a scream?'

  Jane reared up on her elbows, looking down in shocked embarrassment at the face of the man beneath her. Ryan's hard features were blurred by reckless pas­sion, his mouth bitten red by her feverish kisses, his eyes glittering chips of blue diamond fire.

  'Yes.' She tried again, her panicky voice louder as she responded to Peggy's anxious call. 'Yes ... but it was nothing-I'm fine .. .'

  There was a pause, and then a quiet, 'Are you quite sure?'

  She could feel the tension that gathered in every straining muscle of the powerful body that supported her as Ryan waited for her answer. For her choice. 'Yes-yes, I'm sure,' she said starkly. 'You don't have to worry, Peggy ... thanks.'

  She felt a wave of joy sweep over her at the fierce exultation that ripped through Ryan's expression. As they heard his mother's soft footfalls retreat down the stairs his hand slid around the nape of her neck and slowly applied pressure.

  'She knows you're in here with me,' she whispered, when her mouth was an inch away from his.

  He grinned wickedly. 'Good, then she'll know not to disturb us until morning!' He nipped her lower lip, and their mouths eagerly clashed again as he tipped her body sideways onto the bed while he pulled off the rest of his clothes. When he was gloriously nude he lifted her back on top of him, uttering a guttural groan as the soft thicket between her legs caressed his belly and a moist, creamy warmth settled over his aching groin.

  Long minutes of heated bliss followed, until Ryan fi­nally caught her desperately seeking hands and rasped, 'No-let me do it...you'll hurt yourself this way...'

  He turned her gently over onto her back, extending her arms out to her sides so that her wrists draped over the edge of the bed and bracing the soles of her feet flat against the bed on either side of his knees. Then he positioned her hips and, with his eyes fixed on her flushed and excited face, entered her in slow, steady in­crements until he was buried to the hilt. They both groaned as he withdrew and began the process all over again ... establishing a slow, sensuous rhythm of meas­ured thrusts that progressively accelerated until they were both wrenched to a breathless peak of explosive ecstasy, their voices mingling in hoarse cries of frenzied rapture.

  Afterwards, as they lay in a satiated tangle of sweaty limbs, Ryan kissed her wounded hands reverently, each in turn. 'If we're this good now, imagine how much more intense the pleasure will be when you can use these again!'

  'I guess this means we're having an affair after all...' Jane's smile was tinged with tristesse.

  Ryan traced it with a provocative finger. 'Not necessarily .. .'

  Jane's abused heart clenched in her chest.

  'Not if we regularised the situation.'

  The blood drained out of her face, rushing to restart her stalled heart. Shock made her whisper barely audible. 'What?'

  'Well, if you married me, we could sleep together as often as we like without offending your puritan soul!' But he was laughing as he said it. He was joking-he had to be!

  She recoiled. 'You never said anything about mar­riage!' Or love. Didn't a declaration of love traditionally come first?

  He shifted back from her, an infinitesimal distance, still smiling, but with a wariness in the back of his eyes that deepened her sense of foreboding. 'Does that mean your answer would be no?'

  She noticed the conditional tense. He hadn't actually asked her a question yet, had he? It had been more of an evasively phrased statement. All Jane's old insecurities came rushing back as she remembered the numer­ous false hopes that Ryan had taken delight in torment­ing her with over the past two years. A love/hate relationship he had called it-but it was Jane who had done the loving and Ryan the hating. What if this was just another trap?

  'I suppose, if I said yes, I'd find myself jilted at the altar. That would be the ultimate revenge for you, wouldn't it? To turn the tables and humiliate me in ex­actly the same way that I humiliated you-'

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew she had made a fatal mistake. Ryan's face turned to stone and he slid out of the bed as if it were contami­nated.

  'If that's honestly the way you feel then any relation­ship between us is obviously futile. You're never going to completely trust me, are you? No matter how many times I prove myself.' He swept up his clothes and began pulling them on, the tenderness of a few moments ago Wiped away as if it had never existed.

  'Oh, yes, you'll sleep with me ... even have a blazing affair with me against your better judgement. But you'll always withhold yourself from true intimacy because you don't trust me to behave honourably. I'm not the one who's hung up on Ava-it's you! You want to be a martyr to the past? Fine! You keep your trust... and I'll keep my honour! I thought I'd found a woman of pride and courage, but it seems I was mistaken-you're just another lost cause!'

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE long black evening gown shimmered and swirled around her ankles as Jane sailed through the crowded hotel restaurant, ignoring the curious looks of startled recognition that followed her determined progress.

  She could see Ryan in a tight knot of people near the centre of the room. Less than twenty-four hours ago he had been shaking with pleasure in the privacy of Jane's arms, teasing her about getting married. Now he was the quintessential public Ryan Blair, rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, drinking champagne and making deals.

  A lost cause, was she? She'd show him courage!

  It wasn't going to be easy; she knew that. He was going to be savagely uncooperative. He was angry and he was hurting and he had had the whole day to brood. She had offered a gross insult to his honour, his pride and his manhood.

  She should have known th
at Ryan wouldn't flaunt the idea of marriage lightly. Given his traumatic experience with Ava, it was understandable that he might prefer to approach it obliquely, protecting himself with humour his defences ready to snap into place at the slightest hint of rejection. He had never said he loved her, it was true, but that didn't necessarily mean that he didn't ... She had never told him how she felt, either, and men were no­toriously less articulate about their feelings than women.

  Peggy had not been the only one to be shocked when she had woken up this morning to find that Ryan had driven back to Auckland some time during the night. He had left a brief note of farewell for his mother and sister and a sealed envelope for Carl. No message for Jane­, which she supposed was a message in itself.

  'What happened?' Peggy had asked her bluntly. Jane, red-eyed with weeping, still hadn't been able to believe it herself. 'He asked me to marry him.'

  'And you turned him down,' Peggy had sighed.

  'Yes.' Her face had looked so tragic Peggy had nearly smiled.

  'Why?'

  Jane had blinked. She'd tried to think of some of the reasons which had seemed so utterly compelling the night before.

  'I don't know,' she'd realised slowly, horror dawning at her own blind stupidity. 'He took me by surprise ... I suppose there was a part of me that just couldn't believe that I deserved that much happiness...'

  The part of her that was still too much her father's daughter-the little girl who had learned to expect emo­tional blows instead of affectionate encouragement, the 'plain Jane' who had been told she wasn't worthy of a mother's love.

  Someone murmured something into Ryan's ear and he looked up. An intense flare of white-hot emotion flickered across his face when he saw Jane, and then he was watching her approach through veiled eyes, his ex­pression terrifyingly impassive.

  'Hello, Ryan,' she said huskily, coming to a halt in front of him, glad he couldn't see her trembling knees under the long black dress that she hoped he recog­nised-her battle dress!

  She loved him. She could do this! She pinned on a dazzling smile as she confronted her lover, brutally at­tractive in his formal white jacket and black tie. Sexual electricity crackled between them as they measured glances.

  He inclined his dark head in the parody of politeness that he did so well. 'Miss Sherwood. Gate-crashing again?'

  'Actually, no, this time I managed to get one of these.' She brandished the ticket that Carl had scrounged at Peggy's behest.

  It had been Carl who had given Jane a ride back to Auckland that morning, after mentioning that Ryan's memo had included a reminder that he would be requir­ing his adviser at an important fund-raising dinner that he was scheduled to attend that evening. As soon as Jane had learned that the fund-raiser's venue was the same restaurant which had hosted the Spectrum Developments bash, she'd known exactly what fate decreed she must do. She only hoped the grand gesture wouldn't backfire on her this time!

  So she had shamelessly borrowed money from Peggy that she might never be able to repay and got Carl to drop her off at the hotel where the fund-raiser was being held. She had booked a room and called Dr Frey, wick­edly invoking Ryan's influence to get herself an urgent appointment during which he had reduced the taping on her broken hand and delighted her with the news that her burn no longer needed a permanent dressing. Then she had spent two hours in the beauty parlour, getting the full works, and an hour at the hairdresser. She had even bought a new pair of high heels, but the lucky black dress was her charm.

  She was once again dressed to kill-or be killed...

  'Did you cash in my cheque? Or perhaps you've ac­quired yourself another rich protector?' Ryan's cutting drawl drew the attention of all those in the vicinity who hadn't yet recognised that here was a potentially explo­sive encounter.

  'Maybe I still have friends in high places,' she coun­tered lightly, not wanting to get Carl into any trouble.

  'As long as you're not counting on me being one of them,' he said, lifting his champagne glass towards his mouth.

  She didn't flinch at his studied indifference. 'No,' she said huskily. 'I'm counting on you being my husband.'

  A fine tremor shook his hand and a small amount of champagne splashed out of his glass onto his white silk lapel. He brushed at it without taking his eyes off Jane's exotically made-up face.

  'I beg your pardon?' His tone was neutral, giving her no hint of what was going on inside his head.

  'I'm here to ask you to marry me,' she said steadily. Ryan's dark eyebrows lifted.

  'I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I don't think I quite heard what you said,' he drawled, looking pointedly at the semi-circle of fascinated faces which surrounded them.

  Oh, God! Jane's chin tilted higher and her voice rose firm and clear above the surrounding hum. 'I said, Will you marry me, Ryan?'

  Conversation stilled, more heads turned, and Ryan took a leisurely swallow of his champagne and consid­ered his options.

  'Why-are you pregnant?' he demanded, and a sizzle of scandalised excitement swept through their immediate audience.

  Mortified colour swept into Jane's cheeks. In none of the possible scenarios she had rehearsed in her head had he asked that! 'No, of course not,' she gritted.

  His eyes swept slyly over her waistline and he leaned forward, his voice dipping to a murmur for her ears alone. 'You might be, since I didn't use anything last night…'

  Her temper fizzled with the knowledge that he was toying with her. She was showing him that she trusted him not to complete his revenge and he was playing games. 'Well, I wouldn't know yet, would I?' she bit out fiercely.

  He straightened, playing to their audience again. 'So, tell me then, Jane-why should I marry you?'

  'Because I love you,' she declared, tossing it out like a challenge. She would offer him her gift, and if he wanted to throw it back into her face then it would be his loss. But she believed he wouldn't. She believed that he loved her; she had to!

  'I beg your pardon?' He cupped his hand around his ear, his blue eyes glittering with mockery. 'What was that you said?'

  'I said, I love you!' She threw out her hands in a gesture of helpless surrender and shouted it to the res­taurant ceiling. 'I love you! I love you!' She looked at him furiously. 'Are you happy now?'

  'No, but I'm getting there,' he taunted, taking another sip of champagne, patently enjoying himself.

  Red misted her vision. She had had enough. She snatched the glass from his hand and threw it onto the floor, ignoring the thrilled gasps of horror that erupted around them

  'A simple "yes" or "no" will suffice, Ryan, and then we can both get on with our lives!' she flared. 'Now, are you going to marry me or not?'

  'Can I think about it?'

  'No!'

  He shrugged, looking bored. 'Well, I suppose I'd bet­ter say yes, then, since I happen to love you to distrac­tion.'

  It took a moment to distinguish his words from his tone and expression. Her knees buckled. Ryan began to laugh.

  Love and fury fountained up inside her. 'You-!' She took a furious swing at him and he sidestepped, scooping her off her feet and lifting her high in his arms, whirling her around for a passionate kiss. Then, still laughing, he carried her across the restaurant with an ease that suggested to the parting crowd that her voluptuous body was as light as thistledown. Cameras dazzled, and Jane linked her anns around Ryan's neck, resigned to her fresh notoriety.

  'I have a room here at the hotel,' she whispered in his ear as they approached the glass door which led into the hotel foyer. Her eyes flirted with his startled expres­sion. 'Plan B was to lure you up there and seduce you if you proved difficult,' she admitted with a sultry smile.

  He grinned, his face lighting with incredible warmth, and for the first time Jane saw a resemblance to his mother. 'And I was, wasn't I? So Plan B it is!'

  He nodded at the man who held open the door for them. 'Thanks, Carl, remind me to give you a bonus...' Jane received a sly silver-grey wink as they swept past and
realised, 'You knew I was going to turn up here tonight ... !'

  'How do you think Carl got hold of a ticket?' he said wryly. 'They're as rare as hen's teeth at this late stage.'

  She had wondered why his adviser had been so co­operative and informative when his job was to be the soul of discretion! Her thick brows lowered. 'So this was all just a set-up, a test...?'

  He shook his head as he carried her across the foyer, much to the entertainment of the staff, and into a waiting lift. He set her down and looped his arms around her waist as the doors closed and she pressed the button for her floor.

  'Let's just say it was a window of opportunity I left hopefully ajar. I was angry when I left Piha, not thinking quite straight-but I knew it wasn't finished between us, no matter what I said. I'd been trying not to rush my wooing-' His mouth curved as he heard her choked disbelief. 'Yes, I know it mightn't have seemed that way. But I thought I was being very patient, considering how badly I wanted you.

  'With Mum running interference for you I was getting hellishly frustrated, and last night was so good between us I simply blurted it out like an idiot. I forgot that be­cause of your father you might look on marriage to a dominating male as something to be afraid of, and that I was presenting you with a totally new idea that you would need time to get used to .. .'

  'No, it wasn't that. . .' She debated waiting until they had reached her room, but with the lift to themselves there was no reason to put it off. 'It was because it wasn't new that I reacted so horribly ... because it was something I'd refused to let myself even dream about for so long ... since Ava ...

  'I know you loved her-' Ryan tried to interrupt and she put her burn-scarred hand quickly over his mouth, revelling in her new freedom to touch. 'Please, let me finish-you have to know this. I'm breaking a trust, but I want you to know that your trust is more important to me...'

  He took her hand from his mouth and kissed it, and she found the courage to continue. 'Ava came to me the day before your wedding in a terrible state, telling me that she and Conrad had fallen in love and that she couldn't marry you after all... but she was afraid of what you and her family might do if she tried to call it off at the last minute. She was practically hysterical. She begged me for help-'