The Mistress's Child (7 page)

But it seemed that she had been completely wrong. She freed his foot from the second sock.

And then at last he was naked, too.

And aroused.

Very, very aroused.

Lisi swallowed. Surely he couldn't possibly... Surely she couldn't possibly... But then she bucked beneath his fingers as he slithered his middle finger along where she was so hot and slick and hungry. 'Oh!' she moaned in ecstasy.

He smiled, but it was a smile laced with a daunting kind of promise and Lisi felt the briefest shiver of apprehension as she saw the new and urgent tension which had entered his body.

'I want you,' he whispered.

'And I want you, too.'

'Now?' he teased. 'Or shall I play with you a little first?'

His provocative words made her melt even more. She had never been turned on so quickly, nor so thoroughly. There was no need for prolonged foreplay; she was ready.

And very, very willing. She put her arms around his neck and looked up at him with open invitation in her eyes..

'Let's play together,' she whispered back.

He groaned as he moved over her. It was like a dream— the most erotic dream he had ever encountered. He moved on top of her and could feel her shudder as he pressed right up against her burning heat. He delayed it for as long as he could—probably about a second—before powerfully thrusting into her and a deep, helpless cry was torn from his throat.

Lisi gasped aloud as she felt him fill her, but she wanted him deeper still, as deep as it was possible to go. She moved without thinking, lifting her legs right up so that her ankles were locked tightly around his neck, and he raised his head in a kind of dazed wonderment as he looked down at her.

'God, Lisi,' he groaned, and then thrust into her so deeply that she gasped again.

Through the stealthy lure of approaching orgasm, Philip heard warning bells ringing in his head, and he realised what he had never before failed to remember.

'Oh, God,' he groaned. 'Protection! Lisi, I never thought—' With a monumental effort he began to pull out, but Lisi only clenched her muscles, and gripped him even tighter and he shuddered. 'D-don't,' he commanded unsteadily.

'It's o-okay,' she gasped, because she had thought that she would die if he stopped what he was doing. 'It's safe.'

'You sure?'

She nodded. Of course she was sure. 'Make me come,' she begged, astonished by her lack of inhibition, but then something about Philip was making her feel this free. Freer than she had ever been in a man's arms.

'With pleasure,' he ground out, and moved inside her. He held back his own needs while he thrust into her over

and over again, his mouth suckling at her breast, while his finger flicked tantalisingly over the tight, hot little core of her. And he whispered things to her, words so erotic, they were almost shocking.

Lisi was nearly crying with the pleasure—almost overloaded with it—and then the crying became a shudder and she was calling out his name and telling him that he was the most perfect lover in the world as waves upon waves took her soaring.

He let himself go, sweat sheening his chest as it slicked against her breasts, and when it happened it was stronger and more intense than any other orgasm he had ever experienced, so that even in the midst of pleasure, he felt the first shimmerings of guilt.

She felt him shuddering inside her for so long that she thought he would never stop. She wished that he wouldn't. Just go on filling her with his seed all night long. And only when he was completely spent did she let her legs drift down to lie on either side of him. With a satiated little smile, she lifted her head to kiss him but he turned away, as if her mouth contained poison, then rolled away from her completely, so that he was right on the other side of the bed.

Lisi's heart pounded.

Perhaps he was just tired. He always seemed to look tired. She would let him sleep and then he would reach for her again in the night, and...

She heard the sound of movement and saw that he was getting off the bed and reaching for his clothes.

Her heart pounded again. He couldn't be leavingl He couldn't! She swallowed down what was surely an irrational fear. He was obviously going to the bathroom—but he didn't need to put his clothes on to do that, surely? 'Philip?'

He finished buttoning up his shirt before he turned

around and when he did his face was as cold and as expressionless as flint. He raised his eyebrows. 'What?' -

'You're not going?'

He was sickened with disgust at his lack of control, and his mouth tightened. 'Yes.'

She stared at him without understanding. 'But why?' she asked, in a mystified voice. 'Why are you leaving now?'

It hurt to say it, probably more than it hurt her to hear it. 'Because I'm married,' he said, in a hard, cold voice.

He grabbed his jacket and his unopened overnight bag and walked out without a backward glance.

And Lisi didn't see him again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Philip spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning, his thoughts full of Lisi and the effect of seeing her again.

He hadn't thought beyond his trip to Langley. He had just found himself on the road here, driven on by a burning need to tie up the loose ends of a regrettable liaison—so that he could put it behind him, once and for all.

But he had not reckoned on how he would feel if he saw her again. Part of him had thought that she might have moved on. Or settled down. Married some upstanding local and be well on the way to producing a brood of children. To his astonishment, she was still single.

And just the sight of her had been like a touch-paper to his senses. He still wanted her—wanted her more than he felt comfortable with, and, to judge from her response to his kiss, she wasn't exactly immune to him, either.

He owed her the truth, he realised. There would be no sense of closure for either of them until he had done that. She might have instigated what had happened, but he had gone into it more than willingly. She needed to know why he had feasted on her body and then just left her lying there without a second glance.

He glanced at his watch, but it was still early. He showered and dressed and drank some coffee before switching on his computer to check his e-mails. But he stared blankly at the untouched messages in his inbox and turned his head instead to study the forbidding grey of the winter sky.

Just as soon as the office opened he would go and see her. And tell her.

Marian Reece glanced up as the bell on the office door

rang and in walked the tall, expensively dressed man who had been talking so intently with Lisi the day before.

She smiled. 'Good morning! Mr Caprice, isn't it?'

Philip nodded and forced an answering smile. 'That's right. Philip Caprice.' He glanced around the office. 'Is Lisi around?'

Marian shook her head. 'Oh, no! She's finished now. For the Christmas holidays. She—' She seemed to change her mind about her next words. Instead, she said, 'But I'm sure that I can help you.'

He looked at her blankly. 'Help me?'

Marian studied him in bemusement. 'Well, you did say that you were interested in buying a house in this area!'

He narrowed his eyes. Did he? Wasn't the truth rather more complex than that? He had been doing business in the area, and something—the dreams, perhaps?—had prompted him to call in and see if Lisi Vaughan was still around. And she was—though wasn't there a part of him which wished she weren't? That had hoped she would have been long gone and then he could consign her to bittersweet memory? But at least the suggestion of househunting would legitimise his being here. 'That's right,' he said evenly. 'If you could let me have a few details to glance through.'

'Of course.' She gave a coy smile. 'I'll need to know your price range, though.'

He mentioned a sum that made her pupils dilate and she immediately reached for a sheaf of papers which stood neatly stacked on a corner of her desk. 'I thought you'd be looking at the top end of the market,' she said triumphantly, and handed them to him.

Philip glanced down at them without interest.

'The most attractive property we have on our books is The Old Rectory,' said Marian, straightening up and looking at him expectantly, but his gaze remained noncommit-

tal. 'It's a beautiful old house, with a wealth of architectural detail—although it does require considerable updating, of course—'

'Why hasn't it sold already?' he cut in.

Marian blinked. 'Sorry?'

'If it's so beautiful, then why hasn't it been snatched up?'

Marian gave a little cough and lowered her voice. 'Because it's unrealistically priced,' she admitted.

'Then get the vendors to lower it.'

'They're reluctant.' She sighed, and pulled a face. 'It's a divorce sale, you see, and they need every penny they can get. I've told them that they may not get a buyer unless they're prepared to be realistic, but you know what people are.'

He nodded and gave an impatient smile, eager to be away. 'Listen, I need to see Lisi. Can you tell me where she lives?'

Marian hesitated. 'I'm...I'm not sure that I should. She might not want me to.'

Philip met her eyes with an unwavering stare. 'Oh, I think she would,' he said pleasantly. 'But, of course, if you won't tell me—then I'll just have to find out for myself. Only it would save me a little time.' He gave her a lazy smile. 'Giving me more opportunity to look at houses.'

There was a long pause while she considered the subtext behind his words, and then she nodded. 'She lives at Cherry Tree Cottage—it's on Millbank Lane. A bright blue front door—it's easy enough to find.'

He folded up the house details and slid them into the pocket of his overcoat. 'Thanks very much.'

Marian looked at him anxiously. 'I don't know whether I should have told you.'

He gave a tight smile. I would have found her anyway.'

Lisi had just finished pinning the flouncy paper frill onto the birthday cake when there was a knock at the door, and she sighed. What she didn't need at the moment was an interruption! There were a million and one things to do before Tim's party—when the house would be invaded by five of his friends and she would have her work cut out to prevent six small boys from wrecking her little home!

She brushed some stray icing sugar from her hands and went to the front door, and there, standing on the step, was Philip, and her heart lurched with a combination of apprehension and lust.

He looked pretty close to irresistible, dressed casually in jeans which emphasised the long, muscular thrust of his thighs and a soft grey sweater which made the green eyes look even more dazzling than usual. He wore an old-fashioned flying jacket, and the sheepskin and worn leather only added to his rugged appeal.

She thought of Tim in the sitting room, watching a video, and the lurch of her heart turned into a patter of alarm.

'Hello, Philip,' she said calmly. 'This is a surprise.'

He gazed at her steadily. 'Is it? Surely you didn't think that I was going to go away without speaking to you again, Lisi?'

I have nothing to say to you.'

'But I do,' he said implacably.

He can't make you do anything, she told herself. 'I'm afraid that it isn't convenient right now.'

He let his eyes rove slowly over her, and the answering flood of heat made him wish that he hadn't.

Her dark hair was scraped back from her face into a pony-tail and she wore cheap clothes—nothing special—a pair of baggy cotton trousers and an old sweater which clung to the soft swell of her breasts. There was a fine line of flour running down her cheek which made him think of warpaint.

And she looked like dynamite.

'Been cooking, have you?'

'Am cooking,' she corrected tartly. 'Busy cooking.'

'Mum-mee!'

Lisi froze as green eyes lanced through her in a disbelieving question.

'Mum-mee!' A child who was Lisi's very image appeared, and Tim came running out from the sitting room and up to the door, turning large, interested blue eyes up at the stranger on the doorstep. 'Hello!'

Lisi had always been proud of her son's bright and outgoing nature—she had brought him up to be confident— but at that moment she despaired of it. Why couldn't he have been shy and retiring, like most other boys his age? I really must go, Philip, you can see I'm really—'

He ignored her completely. 'Hello,' Philip said softly as he looked down at the shiny black head. 'And what's your name?'

The boy smiled. 'I'm Tim, and it's my birthday!' he said. 'Who are you?'

'I'm Philip. A friend of Mummy's.'

Tim screwed his eyes up. 'Mummy's boyfriend?'

Lisi saw the cold look of distaste which flickered across his face, and flinched.

'Does Mummy have lots of boyfriends, then?' Philip asked casually.

Tim,' said Lisi, a note of desperation making her voice sound as though it was about to crack, 'why don't you go and colour in that picture that Mummy drew for you earlier?'

'But, Mum-mee—'

'Please, darling,' she said firmly. 'And you can have a biscuit out of the tin—only one, mind—and Mummy will come and help you in a minute, and we can organise all

the games for your party. Won't that be fun? Run along now, darling.'

Thank heavens the suggestion of an unsolicited biscuit had captured his imagination! He gave Philip one last, curious look and then scampered back towards the sitting room.

Lisi tried to meet the condemnatory green stare without flinching. 'It's his birthday,' she explained. 'And I'm busy organising—'

'So that was why you had to ring your mother,' he observed softly.

It was not the aggressive question she had been expecting and dreading. She stared at him uncomprehendingly. 'What?'

'The night you slept with me,' he said slowly. I wondered why you should bother to do that, when we were only supposedly going for a quick drink,' he added with-eringly. I guess you had to arrange for your mother to babysit. Poor little soul,' he finished. 'When Mummy jumps into bed with a man whenever the opportunity presents itself.'