HELEN BROOKS - The Baby Secret

‘It’s too late.’ She turned back to him then, her blue eyes with their long thick lashes shadowed with pain. ‘It’s all far, far too late. We should never have married, Zac. We’re worlds apart in everything that matters. And you know it too, deep down.’

‘The hell we are,’ he ground out in savage denial. ‘The hell we are. You’re my wife and I don’t let go of what is mine.’

He reached her in three angry strides, pulling her up out of the rocking chair and into his arms with a fury that was all the more intense for being suppressed, his mouth fastening on hers.

She was too stunned at first to fight him, and then, as she began to twist and turn in his hold, the smell and taste and feel of him began to spin in her head. She had been starving for this, physically starving for long, wretched, tear-filled weeks, and as he devoured her mouth desire rose hot and strong in her veins. But it would be madness to give in to it.

She still continued to struggle, the knowledge of her weakness where this man was concerned shameful and humiliating, but she was fighting herself more than him and she knew it. She was aware of the power in his muscled body, and also that he was using his strength to restrain rather than force her, but his mouth was hungry and urgent and inciting a response in the depth of her she didn’t want to give. Dared not give.

‘Don’t...don’t do this.’ Her voice was shaking and frantic.

‘Why not?’ He raised his head slightly, his eyes glittering and black as he moved her back against the white-washed wall of the sitting room. ‘I’ve been thinking of nothing else for weeks.’

‘I don’t want to,’ she protested tremblingly, moving her head as he tried to take her lips again. ‘And I don’t want you—I don’t.’

‘Yes, you do,’ he growled thickly. He was breathing raggedly, his body taut and his thighs hard against hers. ‘That night, our wedding night, was just a taste for both of us. I want more, much more. You’re mine, Tory; you’ll always be mine...’

She froze, the blood turning to liquid ice in her veins. Was this what the great love she had thought they’d shared had been reduced to? An animal mating, the satisfaction of physical lust, the possessor taking the possession he had acquired? He didn’t love her—he didn’t know what love was. None of his kind did. Her mind continued to race as he began to kiss her again.

He had bought an apartment for Gina just weeks before they had got married. He had gone to her, on their wedding night, the minute Gina had called. And there had been a big incentive for him to rush her down the aisle—a lucrative deal for all concerned.

He had taken her as his wife because she met all the criteria he had laid down for the future Mrs Harding, and because, as he had said more than once during their engagement, it was time he settled down and became a family man. He wanted children, and she was a suitable breeding machine. But he hadn’t been prepared to cut the tie with Gina in the last resort. And she hated him.

He couldn’t fail to notice her rigidity, and after a moment he swore under his breath, raising his head as he said, ‘Don’t fight me, Tory. You’re mine and you know it. You can’t win.’

Maybe not, but I can make sure you don’t win either, she thought numbly. ‘I want a divorce, Zac.’ As he moved back a pace, his eyes narrowing on her face, she raised her chin determinedly. ‘As soon as possible,’ she added, with such a note of determination in her voice he couldn’t fail to believe she meant business.

‘No way. It was almost lazy, only the fiery glow in his black eyes revealing the banked-down emotion. ‘No way.’

‘I mean it,’ she insisted with quiet dignity.

‘So do I.’ The desire which still had him in its grip was making his voice husky. ‘I told you, I never let go of what is mine. Not unless I want to, that is. And in this case I don’t.’

She almost put her hand protectively across her flat stomach as he spoke, before warning herself she couldn’t afford any instinctive gestures like that. Zac was nobody’s fool. She had to get back to England and then disappear again, until the divorce was through or the baby was born—whichever came first. And the fewer people who knew about the pregnancy the better.

‘You won’t be able to stop me divorcing you, Zac,’ Victoria said with a quiet bravery she hadn’t known she was capable of. ‘It will happen whether you want it to or not. No woman has to remain chained to a man she doesn’t love these days.’

‘Ah, but you do love me.’ It was supremely arrogant and devastatingly true, and Victoria kept her face blank only by the harsh training she had received throughout a childhood of hiding her feelings. Then, as now, she had known any weakness would be recognised and used unmercifully against her. ‘I was the first man to take you and I intend to be the last. Believe me.’

She couldn’t believe the double standards. ‘I take it you operate on the sentiment that a woman is like a flower with honey for just one bee?’ she said bitterly. ‘Whereas a man is able to go from flower to flower to flower? Is that it?’

‘I didn’t say that.’ He eyed her darkly, his mouth grim.

‘You didn’t have to,’ she returned smartly. ‘That particular male view has been expressed since the beginning of time; it’s not new. Men can play around all they like but the little woman remains at home as pure as the driven snow.’

‘I never pretended that I was inexperienced, Victoria,’ Zac ground out irritably. ‘You knew when you married me that there had been other women before you. I was quite open about that.’

‘Before me, yes.’ She drew in a shuddering breath, the now familiar feeling of light-headedness and nausea rearing its head. ‘I just didn’t expect there would be any after me, that’s all. Look—’ she sank down into the rocking chair again, her head bowed as she tried to control the nausea ‘—we’re getting nowhere with all this and I’m not feeling too well; the heat and the different food has upset my stomach. Please go, Zac. I need to lie down.’

Her extreme pallor spoke for itself, and after an exasperated, ‘For crying out loud,’ Zac took a visible hold on his temper before saying, his voice quieter, ‘All right, I’ll leave you to rest. But Victoria?’ She raised her head at the tone, looking at him for a long moment as he surveyed her with narrowed eyes before saying, ‘Don’t think about disappearing again. Once I can accept, but twice would be a big, big mistake. Do I make myself clear?’ he added grimly.

Who did he think he was talking to—one of his employees? Victoria thought furiously, the adrenalin pumping hot and strong. She raised her drooping head a few notches and glared at him.

The anger carried her through the next few moments of Zac leaving, but it left her in a big whoosh when he turned on the doorstep, putting down his big black leather overnight bag that he had obviously slung into her hall some time during his arrival, and took her in his arms again, kissing her very thoroughly before raising dark, sardonic eyebrows at her flushed protestations.

‘I can’t help it,’ he said mockingly. ‘There’s something about this pale and interesting look that turns me on, especially with the new fiery part of you as an interesting contrast.’

‘I don’t want you to be turned on.’ She wasn’t at all sure it was the truth and that confused her still more. ‘Not now, not ever.’

‘Thanks a bunch.’ It was very dry.

‘I mean everything I’ve said today, Zac—’

‘No, you don’t,’ he interposed smoothly, before she could say anything more. ‘You want me every bit as much as I want you, but you don’t trust me and I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.’