Passion's Mistress (18 page)

bemused fascination as he excused himself and crossed the room to settle his

length comfortably on the padded arm of her chair.

His proximity put her at an immediate disadvantage, for she was extremely

aware of the clean smell of his clothes, the faint aroma of soap intermingling

with his chosen aftershave, an exclusive mixture of spices combined with

muted musk that seemed to heighten the essence of the man himself.

Within minutes his associates followed his actions in joining their wives,

and Carly wasn't sure which she preferred... being alone with a clutch of

curious women, or having to contend with Stefano's calculated attention.

'Almost ready to leave,
cara?'

His voice was a soft caress, and if anyone was in any doubt as to his

affection for his wife he lifted a hand and swept back a swath of curls that

had fallen forward, letting his fingers rest far too long at the edge of her

throat.

There was a degree of deliberation in his movement, almost as if he was

attempting to set a precedent, and it made her unaccountably angry.

She wanted to move away, yet such an action was impossible, and it took all

her acting ability to sit still as he brushed gentle fingers across her

collarbone then slid them down her arm to thread through her own. The look

in his eyes was explicitly seducing, and to any interested observer it was

only too apparent that he couldn't wait to get her home and into bed.

Well, two could play at that game, and she gently dug the tips of her nails

into the tendons of his hand, then pressed
hard
. 'Whenever you are,' she

acquiesced lightly, casting him a soft winsome smile that was deceptively

false. She would have liked to
kill
him, or at least render some measure of

physical harm, yet in a room full of people she could only smile. As soon as

they were alone, she'd verbally
slay
him.

He knew, for his eyes assumed a mocking gleam that hid latent amusement,

almost in silent acceptance of an imminent battle.

With an indolent movement he rose to his feet, and Carly followed his

actions, adding her appreciation with genuine politeness as they thanked

their hosts and bade Charles and Kathy-Lee goodbye.

'So early, Stefano?' Angelica queried, effectively masking her displeasure.

'My wife is tired.'

It was nothing less than the truth, but she resented the implication.

Angelica's eyes narrowed, then assumed speculative amusement as she

proffered Carly a commiserating smile. 'Can't stand the pace?'

'Quite the contrary,' Carly demurred sweetly. 'Stefano is merely providing a

cliched excuse.'

The resentment was simmering just beneath the surface of her control, and

she contained it until the Mercedes had swept from the driveway.

'You enjoyed setting me among the pigeons, didn't you?' she demanded in a

low, furious tone.

'Was it so bad?'

To be honest, it hadn't been. Yet she was loath to agree with him—on

anything. 'On a scale of one to ten in the curiosity stakes, our reconciliation

has to rate at least a nine,' she declared drily as he sent the opulent vehicle

speeding smoothly through the darkened streets.

'You more than held your own,
cara
,' he said with drawled humour.

Inside she felt like screaming, aware that it would take several weeks before

the speculative looks, the gossip abated and eventually died. In the

meantime she had to run the gauntlet, and she felt uncommonly resentful.

'Nothing has changed,' Carly voiced with a trace of bitterness, and incurred

his swift scrutiny.

'In what respect?'

'You have to be
kidding
,' she declared vengefully. 'Angelica would have

liked to eat you alive.' She was so incensed that she wasn't aware of the

passion evident in her voice, or the pain.

Turning her attention to the darkened city streets, she watched the numerous

vehicles traversing the well-defined lanes with a detached fascination. The

bright neon signs provided a brilliant splash of colour that vied with the red

amber and green of traffic-lights controlling each intersection.

Transferring her attention beyond the windscreen, she looked sightlessly

into the night, aware that Stefano handled the car with the skilled ease of

long practice. The same ease with which he handled a woman:

knowledgeable, experienced, and always one step ahead. Just once she'd like

to be able to best him, catch him off guard.

Yet even as the resentment festered she knew instinctively that he'd never

allow her- to win. A solitary battle, possibly, in their ongoing private war, as

a musing concession to her feminine beliefs. But never the war itself.

It was twenty minutes before the Mercedes drew to a halt inside the garage,

and Carly made her way upstairs to the main suite.

She was in the process of removing her make-up when Stefano entered the

room, and her eyes assumed a faint wariness as she completed the task.

It required only a few steps to move into the bedroom, a few more to reach

the bed. Yet she was loath to take them, knowing what awaited her once she

slipped between the cool percale sheets.

Fool
she derided silently. It's not as if you lack enjoyment in the marital bed.

The knowledge of her exultant abandon in Stefano's arms merely

strengthened her resolve to provide delaying tactics, and she plucked the

pins from the elaborate knot restraining her hair, only to catch hold of her

brush and stroke it vigorously through the length of tumbled

auburn-streaked curls.

It was mad to want more, insane to build an emotional wall between them. A

tiny logical voice rationalised that she should be content. She had a beautiful

home, and a husband whose business interests ensured they were among the

denizens of the upper social echelon.

Many women were confined in marriages of mutual convenience, happy to

bury themselves in active social existences as their husbands' hostesses, in

return for the trappings of success: the jewellery, exotic luxury cars, trips

abroad.

Carly knew she'd trade it all willingly to erase the past seven years, to go

back magically in time to the days when
love
was an irrepressible joy.

Now it was an empty shell, their sexual coupling merely an expression of

physical lust untouched by any emotion from the heart.

Perhaps she was too honest, with too much personal integrity to survive

within the constraints of such a marriage. Yet she was trapped, impossibly

bound to Stefano by Ann-Marie. To remove her daughter from her father

and return to their former existence would cause emotional scarring of such

magnitude that the end result would be worthless.

'If you continue much longer, you'll end up with a headache.'

Carly's hand stilled at the sound of that deep drawling voice, and she stood

motionless as Stefano moved to stand behind her.

'I have nothing to say to you,' she managed in stilted tones, watching him

warily.

He was close, much too close for her peace of mind, and all her fine body

hairs quivered in anticipation of his touch.

'We seem to manage very well without words,' he said with a degree of

irony, and she lashed out verbally at his implication.

'Sex isn't the answer to everything, damn you!'

Her eyes unconsciously met his in the mirror, large and impossibly dark as

she took in the image her body projected against the backdrop of his own.

Without the benefit of shoes, the tip of her head was level with his throat,

and his breadth of shoulder had a dwarfing effect, making her appear small

and incredibly vulnerable.

'No?' he queried softly, and she was damningly aware of the subtle pull of

her senses as she fought his irresistible magnetism.

Her gaze remained locked with his, their darkness magnifying as he slowly

lifted a hand and swept a heavy swath of her hair aside, baring the edge of

her neck. His head slowly lowered as his mouth sought the pulsing cord in

that sensitive curve, and she was powerless to prevent the sweet spiralling

sensation that coursed through her body at his touch.

Carly was conscious of his hands as they shifted to her shoulders, then slid

slowly down her arms to rest at her waist, before slipping up to cup the

swollen fullness of her breasts.

She wanted to close her eyes and pretend the seduction was real, and for a

few minutes she succumbed to temptation.

His fingers created a tactile magic, sensitising the engorged peaks until she

moved restlessly against him/craving more than this subtle pleasuring. A

hollow groan whispered from her throat as his hands slid to her shoulders,

slipping the thin straps of her nightgown down over her arms, so that the thin

silk slithered in a heap at her feet.

He didn't move, and she slowly opened her eyes to focus reluctantly on their

mirrored image, watching in mesmerised fascination as his hands slid round

her waist and pressed her back against him.

Her eyes widened as she watched the effect he had on the texture of her skin,

the tightening of her breasts, each tumescent peak aroused in anticipation of

his possession.

It was almost as if he was forcing her to recognise something her conscious

mind refused to acknowledge, and she gazed in mesmeric wonder as her

body reacted to the light brush of his fingers as he trailed them across the

curve of her waist, then slid to trace the soft mound of her stomach before

allowing his fingers to splay into the soft curls protecting the central core of

her femininity.

Of their own volition, her lower limbs swayed into the curve of his hand as

they sought closer contact, and she was totally unprepared for the soft

dreaminess evident in her eyes, the faint sheen on her parted lips.

She looked... incandescently bewitched, held in thrall by passionate desire,

and in that moment she felt she hated him for making her see a side of

herself she preferred to keep well-hidden. Especially from him.

Yet it was too late, and even as she arched away he turned her fully into his

arms, his mouth successfully covering hers in a manner that left her no hope

of uttering so much as a word.

Her initial struggle was merely a token gesture, as was her determination to

prevent his open- mouthed kiss. Seconds later she cried out as one long arm

curved down the length of her back in a seeking quest for the tell-tale

dewing at the aroused nub of her femininity. Every nerve in her body

seemed acutely sensitised, the internal tissues still faintly braised from the

previous night's loving, so much so that she tensed involuntarily against his

touch.

Without a word he placed an arm beneath her knees and lifted her high

against his chest to carry her to his bed, sinking down on to the mattress in

one fluid movement as he cradled her gently into the curve of his body.

His lips trailed a path to her mouth, soothing her slight protest, before

tracing a path down her neck. Slowly, with infinite care, he traversed each

pleasure pulse, anointing the tender peak of each breast with delicate

eroticism.

Her stomach quivered in betrayal beneath the seductive passage of his

mouth, and when he reached the junction between her thighs she gave a

beseeching moan, an entreaty to end the consuming madness that flared

through her body, igniting it with flame.

Carly consoled herself that nothing mattered except this wonderful slaking

of sensual pleasure in a slow, gentle loving that touched her soul. But in her

subconscious mind she knew she lied, and she drifted into sleep wondering

if there could ever be a resolution between the dictates of her brain and the

wayward path of her emotions.

'I HAVE
to attend a meeting on the Central Coast,' Stefano declared as he

rose from the breakfast table. 41 doubt I'll be home before seven.'

'Angelica is naturally one of the associates accompanying you.' It wasn't a

question, and he shot her a dark encompassing glance.

'She is on the board of a number of family companies,' he informed coolly.

'And a dedicated businesswoman.'

'Very dedicated,' Carly mocked, and was unable to resist adding, 'Have fun.'

After he left she finished her coffee, then moved quickly upstairs to change

into a white cotton button-through dress, slipped her feet into flat sandals,

then collected the keys to the BMW, informed Sylvana she'd be home in the

late afternoon, and drove into the city.

There were a few things she wanted to pick up for Ann-Marie, and she'd fill

in time between hospital visits by browsing the shops in the hope of gaining

some inspiration for Christmas gifts.

Carly returned home at five, and after a leisurely shower she changed into a