The Seduction Scheme (16 page)

Rachel's confusion deepened. For some reason he seemed to think she'd instigated the interview. Was it possible that Sir Stuart had, for his own reasons, made her the instigator?

‘I know you're angry, and I don't blame you, but you can't blame me.'

‘Blame you?' he echoed blankly. The deep red coloration seeped slowly until it covered every scrap of his skin she could see. ‘Is that what you think of me?' he asked hoarsely. ‘You thought I'd be angry?'

‘Well, you are angry, aren't you?' she pointed out, somewhat mystified by his reaction.

‘Because you didn't tell me, not because you're—'

‘But couldn't this have waited until morning, or better still Monday? I really do think you're overreacting, Ben.' Her thoughts raced as she tried to quell the rising sense of panic. If he came in, if he touched her… She had no will-power where he was concerned. One thing she knew she
couldn't
do was say goodbye again.

‘You think I'm…' Words appeared to fail him at this point. ‘I'm sorry if my emotional outburst offends you but it's not every day I learn I'm about to be a father. Perhaps you can be blasé about it, having been there once, but this is the first time for me.'

It was Rachel's turn to be rendered speechless. She tried to interpret his words first one way then another way, but the meaning kept coming out the same.

‘You think I'm…? Your father told you I'm…?'

‘For once in his life my father did the decent thing. Something you obviously don't think I'm capable of.'

The irony struck her as being hilariously funny. She laughed, a wobbly giggle that swiftly crossed the border into hysteria. In her youth she'd had to overcome this embarrass
ing response to moments of high emotional drama. Laughter had frequently caused offence at numerous delicate moments and she could see she hadn't lost her knack—he looked ready to throttle her!

‘You find this situation funny?' he enquired coldly.

She gasped for breath. ‘I'm hysterical, you idiot!' she gasped. She clutched her aching stomach muscles as tears began to run down her cheeks.

‘Do you prefer right cheek or left?' he asked, touching her chin and examining each profile in turn. ‘Isn't that the traditional remedy?'

‘You w-wouldn't dare!' She hiccuped as she gradually regained control. He didn't deny or confirm this accusation, just smiled in what she considered to be a sinister manner.

‘Didn't you think I had a right to know? Didn't you think I was sufficiently involved to be informed?' he grated sarcastically. ‘You've already deprived one child of her father. I can't believe you were going to do it again. Well, whatever plans you had, Rachel, you'd better include me.'

‘This is ridiculous, Ben. Will you listen to me?'

‘I've accepted you think I'm some lightweight party animal with no depth, but did you
really
imagine that I wouldn't care if a woman was carrying my child?'

The way his eyes ran over her body and came to rest on her flat belly with a fierce, possessive expression made her feel…
excited
? That's sick, Rachel—stop it! she told herself firmly. This wasn't the time to forget this pregnancy was a fantasy spun by a devious, warped mind.

‘Or did you just not take my feelings into consideration?'

‘Oh, so this is all about
you
, is it?' Hands on her hips, she let her scornful glance travel to the top of his dark head. ‘Your fragile male pride.'

‘Miss French, are you all right?' Clad in pyjamas, the occupant of the ground-floor flat opened his door. ‘It's just I
heard some noise…' The retired accountant had to take a step back to see Benedict's face. He pushed his wire-framed spectacles up his thin nose and devoutly hoped Miss French wouldn't want any help.

‘I'm really sorry we disturbed you and Mrs Rose,' Rachel began, wiping away the last remnants of moisture from her face. That might be the last time she laughed in a long time, she thought bleakly.

‘I told her not to have the second bottle of wine. She gets a little…shrill when she's over-indulged,' Benedict said in conspiratorial undertones. ‘We'll take ourselves upstairs. Do you need a hand, my love?' he enquired solicitously.

Rachel gritted her teeth and looked from the confused face of her neighbour to Benedict. If she didn't want to include half the neighbourhood in her troubles she didn't have much choice.

‘I can manage, thank you,' she said from between clenched teeth as she shrugged off the hand on her elbow which was much more to do with restraint than solicitude.

The door upstairs was still ajar and she ducked under Benedict's arm as he held it open.
‘Thank you,'
she grated sarcastically. ‘God knows what he thinks now. He saw me go out with one man and come back with another!' she fumed.

‘Worried about your reputation, Rachel? It's a bit late for that, isn't it?'

‘I've done nothing to be ashamed of.'

‘I'm pleased to hear it, because if you had…' He gave a thin-lipped smile and his eyes glittered as he let his glance dwell on her face. ‘Shall we just say it saves me the bother of ruining his expensive dental work?'

‘If I decide to sleep with the entire English soccer team it's nothing to do with you! Clean up your own act before you start interfering in mine.'

‘Are you trying to tell me it's my debauched reputation
that's behind your decision to keep me in the dark?' he enquired cynically.

‘What gives you the idea I'm even
slightly
interested in your reputation?' she enquired scornfully.

‘I'm crushed,' he remarked, looking anything but. ‘I've spent all my adult life polishing my depraved image. Is Charlie asleep?' he asked, looking around the room.

Rachel nodded reluctantly; after her late night Charlie had gone out like a light.

‘She met Fauré?' His eyes touched the large elaborate bouquet on the dining table and his lip curled contemptuously. ‘A little ostentatious,' he commented, with a quirk of one dark brow.

‘They got on very well.' She wasn't about to tell him that Charlie's approval of Christophe had contained a significant rider: ‘I don't like him as much as Ben.'

‘You decided it was too complicated to cope with two fathers at the same time?'

‘You're not my child's father, Ben.'

‘Prospective father, if you're going to be pedantic.'

‘I'm not pregnant, Ben.'

‘Can't you do any better than that?' His scorn was corrosive enough to strip metal. ‘Don't treat me like a fool, Rachel.'

‘It's the truth.' What else could she say to convince him?

‘Did you enjoy single parenthood so much you want to go through it again? Or are you hoping Fauré will accept this child as his too? If you have any ideas along those lines, Rachel, drop them now.'

She embraced the anger; it was easier to cope with than impotence. ‘I shouldn't really blame you for sounding like a tinpot dictator. I suppose your father has always spoken to your mother like that. But if you use that tone with me once more, so help me…'

For the first time she saw a flicker of amusement. Momentarily it lifted the sombre expression on his strikingly handsome face.

‘What's the joke?'

‘After you've met my mother you'll understand.'

‘I'm not going to meet your mother.'

His expression was the visual equivalent of a patronising pat on the head and she wanted to scream very badly. The only thing stopping her was the child sleeping in the next room.

‘I suppose you were relying on the fact that I'll be leaving the country. You mistakenly thought that Dad would be on your side as he was so anxious to warn me off you. You miscalculated; one thing he feels passionate about is family!'

‘Oh, I know all about your father's concern for his family. I'd say he'd go to any lengths to preserve it. Can you imagine your father as a cosy grandfather, Ben?' Anyone would think he
wanted
to believe his father's story.

‘This is about us, not my father.' He pushed aside her dry observation impatiently.

‘Would that were true.'

‘He said you didn't intend telling him. He said you were very depressed and you just blurted it out.'

“‘He said! He said!”' she mimicked, wishing the unscrupulous old man were here so she could tell him exactly what she thought of him. ‘You're not listening to
me
, are you? How could I be pregnant?'

If he paused long enough to think he'd see that it wasn't possible. ‘I told you the first time it was safe and then we took precautions.' She was annoyed that the reference made her flush like a schoolgirl, not a thirty-year-old mother. ‘Besides, it was only three weeks ago.' The argument was pretty watertight, she thought, giving a relieved sigh. The relief
proved premature, however, as she listened to Benedict proceeding to punch holes in her neat logic.

‘The only fail-safe form of contraception is abstinence—we've not been very abstemious.'

Greedy, she decided, was a more accurate description; the thought brought an unwelcome reminder of the fact that some things hadn't changed. She still felt
greedy
. She lowered her eyes self-consciously before the scorching recognition surfaced in her eyes.

‘And these days a testing kit can tell you if you're pregnant when you're hours late.'

‘I wouldn't know.'

‘I have friends who were desperate to get pregnant. Tom could have written a consumer column on kits that tell you when you should or shouldn't and others that tell you when you are or aren't. Or did you just know? Some women do.'

‘Stop it!' she yelled, placing her hands firmly over her ears. ‘I'm not pregnant! Your father was lying.'

‘He can, and does, but why would he lie now? And why
this
lie? What would he have to gain?'

At last!
Here was her opportunity to explain. ‘He thinks if I get pregnant you won't leave the firm and you won't leave the country.' Even to her own ears the idea sounded preposterous.

‘Is that the best you can do, Rachel? Why would he think that? I can't think of a better place in the world than the Creek to bring up a child.'

She would like to be watching when Benedict revealed this to his father. It wouldn't make up for what he'd done, but it would certainly help! Despite all his father's underhand tactics Benedict still had no intention of continuing with his legal career! At any other time the irony might have made her smile.

‘Charlie will love it too,' Benedict continued persuasively. ‘After we're married…'

‘Married?' she echoed hollowly.

‘I've no desire to be a part-time father, Rachel.' He looked at her as if he were stating the obvious and sank his fingers into the dark hair above a forehead pleated in a deep frown.

The gesture was implicitly weary; she could almost see him physically push aside the fatigue as his hand fell away. She had to do the same with the warm, mushy feelings that made her a push-over where he was concerned. He's tough, girl; he doesn't need you to mop his tired brow! she told herself.

‘What happened to the “include me in your plans, Rachel”?' she enquired pointedly. ‘Suddenly it seems as if
I
don't have any say in the matter.'

‘Not a pleasant feeling, is it?' His resentment seemed momentarily overridden by concern as he examined her pale face. ‘For God's sake, woman, sit down before you fall down.'

‘Will you stop that? I don't want to sit down!' she snapped as he all but manhandled her into an oak carver chair she'd inherited from her aunt. Her hands curved around the smooth, worn wood of the arms; the solid familiarity was strangely comforting.

‘You have to look after yourself,' he said gruffly, backing off.

This, she realised, was Benedict's version of the kid-glove treatment. She ignored the wistful sigh somewhere in the back of her mind. If this were for real it might be
quite
nice to be cherished by Ben Arden. The idea of carrying his child for real was dangerously seductive. Ever since his father had planted the germ of the idea she hadn't been able to stop imagining.

‘I'm not ill!'

‘Pregnancy isn't an illness,' he agreed gravely. ‘Did you have an easy time with Charlie—any problems? I saw the scar.'

She started. Recalling the circumstances in which he'd noticed the almost invisible scar made her stomach muscles clench. Trying to cover her tingling breasts would only draw attention to the effect his casual words had had.

Though she didn't know why she was bothering; Ben had obviously already lost interest in her in
that
way. Naturally she'd been relieved when he hadn't continued to pursue her and Sabrina, by all accounts, was helping him fill his social calendar. Now she was nothing more than an incubator!

‘I had a Caesarean.' Serve him right if she did treat him to the nitty-gritty.

‘Does that mean that—?' he began uncooperatively, displaying much less embarrassment than she was feeling with the topic.

‘I'm not pregnant, Ben,' she breathed, with an exasperated sigh. Much more of this and she was going to start believing it too!

‘If you had a tough time I can understand why you want to deny it, but this is happening, Rachel.'

‘I don't want your understanding! You're going to feel really stupid when you realise I'm telling the truth,' she said, not without relish.

‘My God!' he said suddenly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. ‘You're not thinking of abortion, are you? Because I have to tell you… No, you couldn't do that.' Just as she was getting ready to throw something large and painful at him his expression cleared. ‘You wouldn't.' His sudden supreme confidence brought a lump of emotion to her throat.