A Wild Surrender

by Anne Mather

  Unless…

  ‘Well?’ Sara was waiting for her to speak. ‘Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?’ She shook her head. ‘I must say when he first told me I could hardly believe it.’

  Rachel stiffened. ‘Why? Because you don’t think I’m good enough for him?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so silly.’ Her mother wasn’t having that. ‘No. No. It’s just you’ve always been such a—such a—’

  ‘Recluse?’

  ‘No.’ Sara sighed. ‘But you’ve always kept men at a distance.’

  Rachel shrugged. There was nothing to say to that.

  ‘I can only assume that you allowed the island—and Matt, of course—to go to your head.’

  Rachel’s lips twisted. ‘Something like that.’

  Sara shook her head. ‘It didn’t bother you that to all intents and purposes he was your brother?’

  ‘How dare you say that?’ Rachel was horrified. ‘My God, I didn’t even know he was your son. I thought you and he were—were—’

  ‘No!’ Sara stared up at her, aghast. ‘You can’t have thought that a man like Matt would be interested in someone of my age.’ Her lips curled. ‘He barely acknowledges me as his mother.’

  ‘Whose fault is that?’ Rachel knew her words were hurtful, but her mother had hurt her, too. ‘I think you’d better go.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Sara got to her feet. ‘There’s something you need to know.’

  ‘What?’ Rachel was contemptuous now. ‘If you’re going to tell me that I was adopted, don’t bother. I already know.’

  ‘You know?’ Evidently this was what Sara had intended to say. Rachel wondered why she’d suddenly decided to tell her the truth. After all these years, it was incredible.

  ‘How did you find out?’

  Rachel shrugged. ‘I heard Dad and Aunt Laura talking. Does it matter? I know now. You can save your confession for someone else.’

  Sara caught her breath. ‘Don’t be cruel, Rachel. You don’t know what I’ve had to suffer all these years. But I might have known Laura wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut. She’s never understood what it’s been like for me.’

  ‘And what about Dad?’ demanded Rachel. ‘Don’t you think he’s suffered, too?’

  ‘But Matt’s my son, Rachel.’

  ‘And you’ve never let Dad forget it, have you?’

  Sara bent her head. ‘I thought I’d have other children,’ she said. ‘I wanted at least three. But—well—we discovered your father had a problem. That was why I agreed to an adoption.’

  ‘And you got me,’ said Rachel bitterly. ‘How disappointing for you.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that.’ Her mother heaved a sigh. ‘Look, Rachel, I know we’ve never been as close as a mother and daughter should be, but I loved you. I love you. You must know that.’

  ‘But not as much as you love Matt,’ said Rachel sadly. ‘I really think you’d better go, Mum. Just pray Dad has more sympathy for you than I do right now.’

  * * *

  ‘702 Lincoln Place.’

  Matt murmured the words in an undertone as he stood looking up at the tall apartment building.

  So this was where Rachel lived, he mused, trying to suppress the sense of trepidation he felt at invading her space without an invitation. What if he’d been mistaken? What if she really didn’t want to see him again? At barely eight o’clock on a Saturday morning she probably wasn’t even awake, let alone up and dressed.

  Still, he hadn’t flown all this way just to turn back at the first obstacle. He had to see her; he needed to see her. He had to know what his mother had said to her. Dear God, had she really let the girl go on thinking she was his sister?

  He hadn’t found out that Rachel didn’t know she was adopted until Thursday evening. He’d always known Sara had an adopted daughter. She’d made a point of telling him that she wasn’t Rachel’s biological mother.

  He’d naturally assumed she’d told Rachel the same. Discovering that she hadn’t had put a whole new slant on Rachel’s reasons for leaving, and he’d wanted to strangle his mother for causing such a tangled skein of grief.

  God, how could she do it? Knowing he was attracted to Rachel? Was that why? Was she so jealous of anyone who got close to him that she’d go to any lengths to protect herself?

  He’d been shattered when he’d found out Rachel had left the island, and his mother had known that. But she hadn’t said a word about speaking to her daughter before she left.

  Naturally he’d blamed himself. He’d been sure Rachel must have had second thoughts. She’d seemed so fragile, so vulnerable; a virgin, for heaven’s sake. And he’d plunged into a full-blown affair. He’d convinced himself that she hadn’t been prepared to continue their relationship on those terms and for the past three weeks he’d buried his misery in work.

  Then, on Thursday evening, he’d had dinner with his father. Diana had been attending a meeting of her music festival committee, and Amalie had been out with her boyfriend. So there had been just the two of them.

  Jacob was getting stronger every day, but to Matt’s surprise seemed quite content with the way his son was handling the business.

  ‘I’m beginning to enjoy researching my book,’ he’d confessed ruefully. ‘Perhaps I’m getting lazy in my old age. All I need now is an assistant to translate my notes into some kind of coherent language.’

  Matt smiled, but he wasn’t really in the mood to discuss his father’s occupation. He was finding it harder every day to conduct even a civil conversation with his employees, and this taciturnity did not go unremarked.

  ‘Sara still giving you a hard time?’ asked his father understandingly. ‘When is that woman going to go home?’

  ‘God knows.’ Matt pushed his steak aside and lay back in his chair. ‘I think she believes I want her here. But she couldn’t be more wrong.’

  ‘It’s a pity Rachel couldn’t stay longer,’ remarked Jacob thoughtfully. ‘You and she seemed to get along so well. She’s a lovely girl.’

  Matt’s lips tightened. ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘It’s a shame that you and she are related. In other circumstances—’

  ‘Related?’ Matt stared at his father.

  ‘Well, you do have the same mother,’ Jacob pointed out mildly. ‘I mean—’

  ‘We don’t have the same mother,’ Matt interrupted him sharply. ‘Why would you say a thing like that? You know Rachel was adopted by the Claibornes.’

  Jacob’s jaw dropped. ‘No, I didn’t know that.’ He shook his head. ‘How could I? You and I hardly talk about your mother, goodness knows, let alone her daughter.’

  ‘But—’ Matt straightened in his chair. ‘Sara must have mentioned it.’

  ‘No. No, she hasn’t.’ Jacob was very definite about that. ‘It’s not the sort of thing she would tell me, now, is it?’

  ‘My God!’ Matt pushed back his chair and got to his feet. A terrible suspicion was stirring in his gut. ‘Do you think Rachel knows she’s adopted?’

  Jacob shrugged. ‘Who knows? You’d have to ask your mother. Why? Is it important?’

  Matt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘It could be.’ He raked back his hair with fingers that weren’t quite steady. ‘I slept with her.’

  Jacob’s astonishment was evident. ‘You slept with Rachel?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Matt paced restlessly across the floor. ‘I never even thought that she might not know about her adoption.’

  Jacob frowned. ‘But if she didn’t know she was adopted, what was she doing sleeping with you? If she thought you were her brother…’

  Matt shook his head. ‘Because she didn’t know Sara was my mother. She thought Sara and I were an item,’ he said bitterly. ‘I knew what she thought and I pla
yed upon it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I wanted to make her jealous, I guess.’ Matt was impatient. ‘Does it matter? The fact is, she had no idea I was Sara’s son. I’m sure of that.’

  ‘You sound very sure of her altogether,’ murmured his father drily. ‘Am I to understand that the hangdog expression you’ve worn for the last few weeks isn’t just because your mother is still staying at Mango Key?’

  Matt gazed ruefully at him. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he admitted frustratedly. ‘Call me a fool, if you like, but I’ve never met a girl like Rachel before.’

  Jacob returned his stare. ‘It sounds serious.’ He paused. ‘So why haven’t you done anything about it before now?’

  Matt bent his head. ‘I had my reasons.’

  ‘Not wholly commendable ones, by the sound of it,’ observed his father, and when his son didn’t answer, he continued, ‘What are you going to do?’

  Matt blew out a breath. ‘I’m going to go and get the truth out of Sara,’ he said, nodding. He made an apologetic gesture. ‘Sorry about leaving you to it.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ve just lost my appetite.’

  ‘You didn’t have much of an appetite to begin with.’ Jacob was resigned. ‘Yes, go. This is far more important than wasting good steak.’

  Matt remembered he’d driven the distance between Jaracoba and Mango Key in record time. And, looking back, he was fairly sure his mother had had some suspicion of why he was home so early even before he’d asked her the burning question.

  She’d prevaricated at first, but one look at his grim face had warned her not to lie to him. Using tears as an ally, she’d tried to tell him that losing him as a baby had had a devastating effect on her life. Then, discovering her husband was sterile, she’d only agreed to adoption as a last resort.

  ‘But you never told Rachel you and her father weren’t her biological parents?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was important,’ she’d exclaimed appealingly. ‘It wasn’t something people talked about in those days. And I don’t know why you’re getting so chewed up about it now. Rachel means nothing to you.’

  ‘Doesn’t she?’

  Matt recalled how he’d stared at her until she’d dropped her eyes, and he’d known in that moment that Sara knew exactly what she’d done.

  The row that had followed had been brutal. But, dammit, he’d been half afraid—was still half afraid, if he was honest—that his mother had screwed up any chance of his making a life with Rachel. And if that happened he’d never forgive her.

  Never.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘702.’

  Matt said the number to himself as he scanned the keypad situated beside the glass doors. Evidently, with so many occupants, an individual bell system wasn’t feasible, and visitors were expected to key in the number of the apartment they wanted.

  He was hesitating over whether to select Rachel’s number or take a chance on someone else releasing the lock, when a young woman emerged from the building and kindly held the door open for him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, amazed that the idea of letting a thief into the block didn’t occur to her. But maybe she thought he looked harmless enough.

  ‘No problem,’ she responded, with an inviting little smile, and Matt realised that she had another agenda entirely. ‘Are you looking for someone? Perhaps I can help you.’

  Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘My girlfriend,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But thanks for the offer.’

  The girl’s smile disappeared, and with a shrug she walked away. Matt glanced after her and then stifled a smile as he turned towards the lifts. One down and one to go, he thought wryly. If only Rachel would be so accommodating.

  He stepped out of the lift onto a rubber-tiled floor. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean and well-lit, with long windows at each end of the corridor allowing watery sunlight to stream into the hall.

  Number 702 was two doors along. And, despite everything that had happened and his own determination to come here, Matt had to admit to a feeling of apprehension.

  What if he’d been wrong? He had no real idea what Rachel might be thinking at this moment. Was it possible he’d misunderstood her reasons for leaving?

  Dear God, he’d been devastated after that confrontation with his mother. His first impulse had been to get her out of his house, and the very next morning he moved her into the hotel. She’d protested, naturally, but he’d had enough. Then he’d gone to see his father.

  As usual, Jacob Brody had been a pillar of strength, and Matt had spent the next twenty-four hours organising his schedule so he could leave the island for a few days. But when he’d gone to the hotel to tell his mother what he was going to do he’d discovered Sara had left the day before.

  To say Matt had been angry at the news would have been an understatement. Particularly as it had been too late then for him to get to Montego Bay in time for that evening’s flight. Instead, he’d contacted a friend who ran a charter service out of Kingston. He’d flown to London in the luxury of a private jet, mentally chastising himself for not realising his mother would want to get to Rachel first.

  There was no bell, so he knocked at the door of number 702. It reminded him of that evening when he’d brought his grandmother’s cream to treat Rachel’s sunburn. But it also reminded him of what had happened when he’d touched her, and in spite of his nerves his body tightened in response.

  There was an eyehole in this door, too, he noticed, and he wondered if Rachel was staring through it right now, trying to decide whether she would speak to him. He had no idea if his mother had been to see her, or what she might have said to her. Sara could easily had lied and claimed he hadn’t known that Rachel was adopted either. Hell, would a mother really do something like that to her daughter, adopted or otherwise? He prayed not.

  When he heard a key turning in the lock and a chain being released, he felt a wave of perspiration break out on the back of his neck. He’d never been so nervous, he realised. God, she’d really messed with his mind.

  The door opened a few inches, and he glimpsed the woman who’d come to mean so much to him hovering just beyond the threshold. She wasn’t dressed. Well, not dressed as he was used to seeing her, but he wasn’t complaining. The cropped tee shirt and what looked like men’s boxers displayed a delicate wedge of porcelain skin at her midriff and almost the whole length of those gorgeous legs.

  ‘Matt,’ she said, and he was heartened that she didn’t slam the door in his face. ‘Wh—What are you doing here?’

  ‘Would you believe, sightseeing?’ he asked, trying for humour. But he was honestly weary, and it didn’t quite come off. ‘I guess not.’ He grimaced and rested one hand against the door frame. ‘How about I’ve come to see you? Does that cover it?’

  * * *

  Rachel’s pulse was racing. When she’d heard the knock at the door she’d been sure it wouldn’t be anyone she knew. She didn’t expect to see her mother again any time soon, and her father wouldn’t call on her at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.

  Living in such a large block, she was used to people getting the wrong apartment, and she’d been quite prepared to ignore it.

  Then, when she’d peered through the eyehole, she’d seen Matt and her legs had turned to jelly. Dear heaven, after what her mother had said she’d doubted she’d ever see him again.

  ‘May I come in?’

  He sounded tired, and Rachel immediately stepped to one side to allow him through the doorway. He was wearing a long black cashmere overcoat, open over dark pants and a black tee shirt, and the hem of the coat brushed the lower part of her leg as he went by.

  Rachel’s breathing was suspended for a moment. And then she gathered herself sufficiently to grab the door and close it again, shutting the much cooler air out in the corri
dor.

  The apartments comprised a small foyer leading into a large living-cum-dining room, with a small kitchen off to the side. But once again Matt’s presence made the room seem much smaller, his dark maleness making her intensely aware of her own rumpled appearance.

  ‘I’ll just go and put some clothes on,’ she began, but he held up a hand when she would have fled into her bedroom.

  ‘No,’ he said huskily. ‘Don’t.’

  ‘But I look—’

  ‘—beautiful the way you are,’ Matt assured her, his green eyes shadowed by emotions she couldn’t begin to fathom. ‘Can we sit down?’

  ‘Before you fall down, you mean?’ Rachel knew a surge of anxiety, but she tried not show it. ‘You look—exhausted.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. And after I was so complimentary about you,’ he remarked wryly.

  ‘You just—well, you don’t look as if you’ve been sleeping very well.’ She gestured towards the sofa. ‘Go ahead. Sit. I’ll get you some coffee.’

  ‘I don’t need any coffee.’ Matt’s hand closed around her bare arm, his fingers dark against the lingering remains of her tan. ‘Stay with me. We need to talk.’

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel agreed with him there. ‘Mostly about what you’re doing here.’

  ‘I told you. I’m here because I had to see you.’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘It’s been three weeks, Matt—’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’

  He spoke harshly, his fingers tightening painfully about her wrist. Rachel had the feeling he was nearing the end of his tether. The anguish in his face wasn’t simulated. He really did look worn out.

  ‘Look, let me get you that coffee,’ she said, urging him back towards the sofa. ‘You relax, hmm? It won’t take long.’

  ‘I don’t want any coffee,’ Matt insisted, but to her relief he did release her arm and slip off his overcoat. He tossed it over the back of the sofa, then sank wearily onto the edge of the cushions. ‘There. Will that do?’

  Rachel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She couldn’t help but be aware that his eyes were now on a level with the waistband of her shorts. Aware, too, of the revealing strip of midriff it exposed, and the pulse that was hammering in her throat.