Passion's Mistress (10 page)

and scent her subconscious recognised—not only recognised, but delighted

in the discovery.

Except that she wanted more, and the tip of her tongue ventured out in a

tentative exploratory tasting, edging up a deeply pulsing cord in search of a

mouth she instinctively knew could bestow pleasure. Then the barriers

between unconsciousness and awareness began to disperse, bringing a

horrifying knowledge that, although the arms that held her belonged to the

right man, it was the wrong time, the wrong room, and her dream-like state

owed nothing to the reality!

For a moment her eyes retained a warm luminescence, a musing witchery,

then they clouded with pain before being hidden by two thickly lashed veils

as she struggled to be free of him.

'Put me down!'

'I was about to,' Stefano drawled as he placed her between fragrantly clean

sheets, and her lashes swept up to reveal intense anger.

His touch was impersonal, yet she felt as if she was on fire, with every

separate nerve-end quivering into vibrant life, each individual skin-cell an

ambivalent entity craving his touch.

Carly snatched the top sheet and pulled it up to her chin in a defensive

gesture. 'Get away from me!'

His eyes speared hers, darkly mesmeric as she forced herself not to look

away.

'You're as nervous as a kitten,' he drawled musingly. 'Why, when we've

known each other in the most intimate sense?'

Reaching out, he brushed gentle fingers down the length of her cheek to the

edge of her mouth, then traced the curving contour with a stray forefinger.

'What are you afraid of,
cara?'

'Nothing,' Carly responded carefully. 'Absolutely nothing at all.'

Liar
, she derided silently. No matter how hard she tried she was unable to

still the fast-beating pulse that hummed through her veins, seducing every

nerve and fibre until she felt incredibly
alive.

His smile was wholly cynical, and his eyes held a gleam of mockery as they

conducted a deliberately slow appraisal of her expressive features, lingering

over-long on the visible pulsebeat at the base of her throat before travelling

up to meet her gaze.

'Goodnight, Carly,' he bade her lazily. 'Sleep well.'

She mutinously refused to comment, and she watched as he turned and

walked from the room. Damn him, she cursed silently. She
wouldn't
sleep in

this bed, this room!

Anger fuelled her resolve, and she flung aside the covers, grabbed hold of

her robe, then retreated quietly to an empty suite near by.

It held a double bed—made up in readiness, she discovered—and she slid

beneath the covers, then switched off the bedside lamp.

Quite what Stefano's reaction would be when he found her missing wasn't

something she gave much thought to for a while. She was too consumed

with numerous vengeful machinations, all designed to cause him harm.

By the time she focused on what he might do, she was drifting off to sleep,

too comfortable and too tired to care.

At some stage during the night she came sharply awake as a light snapped

on, and she blinked against its brightness, disorientated by her surroundings

for one brief second before realisation dawned. Except that by then it was

too late to do anything but straggle as hard hands lifted her unceremoniously

to her feet.

The face above her own was set in frightening lines, jaw clenched, mouth

compressed into a savagely thin line, and eyes as dark as obsidian slate

burning with controlled anger.

'You can walk,' Stefano drawled with dangerous softness. 'Or I can carry

you.' His eyes hardened with chilling intensity, and Carly felt immensely

afraid. 'The choice is yours.'

He resembled a dark brooding force—lethal, she acknowledged shakily,

noting a leashed quality in his stance that boded ill should she dare consider

rebellion.

'I won't share the same bedroom with you,' she ventured with a brave attempt

at defiance, and saw his eyes narrow for an instant before they began a

deliberately slow raking appraisal of her slim curves.

It was terrifying, for her skin flamed as if he'd actually trailed his fingers

along the same path, and her eyes filled with futile rage. Her fingers curled

into her palms, the knuckles showing white as she restrained herself from

lashing out at him.

'We agreed to a reconciliation,' he reminded her with icy detachment. 'For

Ann-Marie's benefit.' His dark gaze seared hers, then struck at her heart. 'I

think we each realise our daughter is sufficiently intelligent to know that

happily reconciled parents don't maintain separate bedrooms.' He knew just

how to twist the knife, and he did it without hesitation. 'Are you prepared for

the questions she'll pose?'

Carly's slim form shook with anger, and her eyes blazed with it as she held

his gaze. 'If you so much as touch me,' she warned as she collected her wrap

and slipped it on, 'I'll fight you all the way down to hell.'

It took only seconds to reach the master suite, and only a few more to discard

her wrap and slip into one of the two beds dominating the large room. With

determination she turned on to her side and closed her eyes, uncaring

whether he followed her or not.

She heard him enter the room and the soft decisive snap as the door closed,

followed by the faint rustle of clothes being discarded, then the room was

plunged into darkness, and she lay still, her body tense, until sheer

exhaustion triumphed and she fell asleep.

Monday rapidly shaped up to be one of those days where Murphy's Law

prevailed, Carly decided grimly, for whatever could go wrong did, from a

ladder in her tights to a traffic jam
en route
to the city.

On reaching the office, there appeared to be little improvement. She didn't

even manage coffee mid- morning, and lunch was a salad sandwich she sent

out for and washed down quickly with apple juice as she checked and

double-checked details required urgently for an eminent client.

Given normal circumstances she excelled under pressure, regarding it as a

challenge rather than nerve-destroying, and it was with mixed feelings that

she tidied her desk, took leave of her col-leagues and drove to collect

Ann-Marie from school.

They arrived at Stefano's elegant mansion— Carly refused to call it

home—shortly after three to find a silver-grey BMW standing in the

driveway.

'For you,' Joe Bardini informed Carly as he emerged from the house to greet

them. 'Mr Alessi had it delivered this morning.'

Had he, indeed! 'It's very nice, Joe,' she accorded quietly, and she veiled her

eyes so that he wouldn't see the anger evident.

'Mr Alessi suggested you might like to take it for a test drive.'

She managed a warm smile, and indicated her briefcase. 'I think I'll get

changed first.'

'It's really hot,' Ann-Marie declared as she followed Carly indoors. 'Can we

go for a swim?'

Ten minutes later they were laughing and splashing together in the shallow

end of the pool, and after half an hour Carly persuaded her daughter to

emerge on the pretext of having a cool drink.

'Look,' Ann-Marie alerted her from the pool's edge. 'Daddy's home.' The

name slid so easily, so naturally off the little girl's tongue, with no hesitation

or reservation whatsoever, and Carly felt her stomach clench with pain.

She was suddenly supremely conscious of the simply styled maillot, and,

although it was perfectly respectable when dry, wet, it clung lovingly to soft

curves. Much too lovingly, she saw with dismay, conscious of the way it

hugged her breasts.

Slowly she turned to face him, a faint false smile pulling at the edges of her

mouth as she wound a towel around Ann-Marie's small frame, then she

quickly reached for another, draping it over one shoulder in the hope that it

would provide some sort of temporary cover.

Her action amused him, and she met his gaze with equanimity,

heighteningly aware of his studied appraisal and her own damning reaction.

It was difficult to keep the smile in place, but she managed—just. If she'd

been alone she would have slapped his face.

It was perhaps as well that he turned his attention to his daughter, whose

wide, solemn eyes switched from one parent to the other as she assessed his

show of affection and her mother's reaction.

Consequently Carly presented a relaxed facade, deliberately injecting some

warmth as she enquired as to his day, and commented on his early return.

'I thought we might drive out to one of the beaches for a barbecue,' Stefano

suggested, and was immediately rewarded with Ann-Marie's enthusiastic

response.

'Can we go in the new car?'

His answering smile was her reward. 'I don't see why not.'

There was no way Carly could demur, and with a few words and a fixed

smile she directed her daughter upstairs to shower and change.

It was after five when Stefano drove the BMW out of the driveway and

headed towards one of the northern beaches, where he played chef, cooking

steak and sausages to perfection while Carly busied herself setting out a

variety of salads, sliced a freshly baked French breadstick, and enjoyed a

light wine spritzer.

The air was fresh and clean, slightly tangy with the smell of the sea. A faint

warm breeze drifted in from the ocean, teasing the length of her hair, and she

gazed out to the horizon, seeing deep blue merge with clear azure, aware in

that moment of a profound feeling of awe for the magnitude and greatness of

nature. There was a sense of timelessness, almost an awareness that life was

extremely tenuous, gifted by some powerful deity, and that each day, each

hour, should be seized for the enjoyment of its beauty.

Tears welled at the backs of her eyes and threatened to spill. Dear God, what

would she do if anything happened to Ann-Marie? How could she cope?

'Mummy, what's wrong?'

Carly caught her scattered thoughts together and summoned a smile. 'I'm

admiring the view/ she explained, and, reaching down, she lifted Ann- Marie

into her arms and directed her attention out over the ocean. 'Look, isn't that a

ship in the distance?'

They ate sausages tasting faintly of smoke, tender steak, and the two adults

washed it all down with a light fruity wine, then they packed everything

back into the boot of the car and walked along the foreshore.

Ann-Marie chattered happily, pausing every now and then to inspect and

collect seashells, which she presented for Carly's inspection, then when she

grew tired Stefano lifted her high to sit astride his shoulders, and they made

their way slowly back to the car.

A gentle breeze tugged at Carly's long cotton skirt and teased the length of

her hair. The sun's warmth was beginning to cool as the giant orb sank lower

in the sky, its colour flaring brilliantly as it changed from yellow to gold to

orange, then to a deep rose before sinking below the horizon. The keening

seagulls quietened, and took their last sweeping flight before seeking shelter

for the night.

There was a sense of peace and tranquillity, almost a feeling of harmony

with the man walking at her side, and for a moment she wondered if their

marriage could have worked... Then she dismissed it in the knowledge that

there were too many 'if only's. There was only
now.

'You take the wheel,' Stefano instructed as they reached the car, and Carly

shook her head, unwilling to familiarise herself with a new vehicle while he

sat in the passenger seat. 'I insist,' he added quietly, and in Ann-Marie's

presence she had little option but to accede.

It was almost nine when they arrived home, and Ann-Marie was so tired that

she fell asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

'COFFEE?' Stefano queried as they descended the staircase, and Carly nodded

her head in silent acquiescence.

In the kitchen she filled the percolator with water, selected a fresh filter,

spooned in a measure of freshly ground coffee-beans, then activated the

machine before reaching for two cups and saucers, sugar.

'From now on, use the BMW.'

Resentment flared in his mocking command. There's nothing wrong with

my car,' she retaliated at once. 'It's roadworthy and reliable.'

His gaze trapped hers and she felt every single hair on her body prickle with

inexplicable foreboding. 'When was it last fully serviced?'

Too long ago, Carly admitted silently, all too aware that over the past few

months all her money had gone on expensive medical bills.

'You don't like the BMW?' Stefano queried with deceptive mildness, and she

summoned a false smile.

'I presume it's the "in" vehicle that wives of wealthy corporate directors are