The Engagement Deal (7 page)

‘What’s unusual?’ He didn’t take his eyes off the monotony of the motorway. As was to be expected, Niall was a good driver; though, rather to her surprise, no speed-fiend.

‘It’s not usual for the child to live with his father.’ And the way she recalled it from newspaper stories Thomas had only been a baby when his parents split up. ‘And you’re not the most obvious—’

‘Nurturing figure?’ he suggested drily as, deciding she might have said too much, her rambling observations abruptly ceased—but not for long.

‘But how could Tara—’ she began thoughtlessly.

‘Desert her child?’ he bit out. The deep-set eyes that skimmed over her face held an arctic chill. ‘She didn’t. Tara sees Tom whenever she can. He stays with her when it’s reasonable for him to do so.’

Which couldn’t be often, considering Tara’s globe-trotting lifestyle. Glancing at Niall’s set profile, she kept this observation to herself.

‘She loves him,’ he continued, ‘but he lives with me.’

‘I wasn’t criticising.’

‘Yes, you were, and you’re not saying anything that Tara hasn’t heard, had said to her face, behind her back or seen in print a thousand times before. She’s heard every sanctimonious permutation on the “unnatural woman who deserted her child” line.’ A stark silence followed his grim words. ‘You’ve no idea…’

‘No, I haven’t, but if everyone else there this weekend does, isn’t there a strong possibility I might put my foot in it?’ Her ignorance could well be the downfall of his little scheme.

A shaft of amusement lightened his expression momentarily. ‘From what I’ve seen of you it’s highly likely you’ll put
both
feet in it, but,’ he conceded reluctantly, ‘I can see your point. History lesson: Tara comes from a big family—ten kids; she was the eldest. They were poor, absent father, her mother retreated from the grim reality of her life with the assistance of anti-depressants which, at that time, doctors like yourself handed out like sweets.’

Holly saw the inference in his eyes that she was somehow responsible for the inadequacies of the medical profession twenty years ago. She didn’t interrupt, though; he was warming to his theme and she was fascinated by the picture his bleak words were drawing.

‘When she should have been playing with her dolls, Tara was bringing up her brothers and sisters, something she did until her big break came. Tara has already done the parent thing,’ he explained. ‘She tried with Tom, but she was deeply unhappy; she felt trapped. Perhaps it would have been easier if she’d still been in love with me—but she wasn’t. You know almost as much as my family now—if not more,’ he added drily. ‘Satisfied?’

The most obvious thing that emerged from his words was Niall’s strong sense of protectiveness towards his ex-wife.

‘Did you have Thomas in an effort to patch up your marriage?’ Holly knew as soon as the words passed her lips that she shouldn’t have voiced her thoughts out loud. Despite this, there was no need for him to look at her as though she’d suggested he was a mass murderer! It was a perfectly legitimate suspicion, considering he’d already said their marriage had been over and she personally knew a couple who had used a baby as a sort of marital band-aid.

‘That’s an angle that even the tabloids didn’t latch on to. It would seem that medicine’s gain is gutter journalism’s loss.’

Holly winced. She knew this was a major insult, coming as it did from someone who had been savaged by the press. First they’d labelled him as an unpatriotic quitter for leaving the race circuit when he had the driver’s number one place in the bag—‘Has The Blue-Eyed Boy Lost His Nerve?’ the headlines had screamed. Today’s villain was tomorrow’s hero; later, he’d been the loyal husband and father left holding the baby by his flighty heartless spouse, such was the fickleness and casual cruelty of the media.

‘As you’re so curious about the circumstances surrounding Tom’s conception, I’ll tell you.’ Without a word, he pulled the car off the quiet country road they’d just joined and turned off the engine,

‘There’s really no need,’ she blustered anxiously.

Niall ignored her words completely and, showing no consideration for her discomfiture, placed his hand on her chin to jerk her around to face him.

Curiosity might be a natural human reaction, but Niall wasn’t feeling in an understanding mood. Her words, whether malicious or just plain clumsily misjudged, had managed to revive a host of memories that he would have preferred to forget. The worry resurfaced that somehow these old stories would one day rear their ugly heads and hurt Tom. He looked at the flustered face of his passenger without compassion. People who blundered in places they had no right to be should expect to hear a few things they might not like.

‘Tom was conceived with no forward planning, and
much
pleasure.’ He paused to let that sink in and watched the embarrassed colour flare in her cheeks. ‘This occurred during our last attempt to make a go of things, and
yes
, he is mine, and
no
, I haven’t demanded DNA testing! Does that satisfy your prurient interest?’ His blue eyes raked her face contemptuously and the derision in his voice made her squirm uncomfortably in her deeply upholstered leather seat.

Even in the midst of her mortification, her imagination insisted on providing painful pictures that went with the event. And it’s pretty obvious why I feel sick to my stomach, isn’t it? she thought. It’s never going to happen, but I can’t stop imagining myself in similar sweaty situations with this man. She’d never felt such a victim to her irresponsible hormones in her life than at that moment.

The feeling of helplessness made her glare aggressively at him and pull her chin angrily from his grasp.

‘Don’t get mad with me because your wife prefers someone else.’ Pursing her lips she pushed a rich red curl which was making an escape bid from a heavy Celtic-designed barrette that held her rebellious hair back from her face. ‘I’m not about to be your whipping boy.’

Boy?
he watched narrow eyed as she licked, a bit nervously perhaps the last of the pale pinkish lipstick off her full lips. The natural shade underneath was actually much more attractive. No, despite the extreme slenderness, there was nothing even
remotely
boyish about this young woman. There was a lot that was annoying, provocative and plain irritating.

Niall felt very provoked. He also felt a quite unreasonable urge to kiss those slightly parted softly pink lips—and that was her fault, too! Fortunately for her, he wasn’t a man who blindly followed every base instinct.

‘It’s easy to see what you saw in Tara.’ Though it seemed his admiration and probably a whole lot more too was alive and well in the present tense. ‘It’s very much more difficult to see what she ever saw in you.’

The haughty little toss of her bright head made Niall forget he was rising above his baser instincts.

At first, the kiss was as angry as his eyes; and then, as he burrowed deeper into the warm moist sweetness of her mouth and with a small lost whimper Holly wrapped her arms tight around his neck, it became something more complex and dangerous.

Holly wasn’t thinking danger—she wasn’t thinking at all—she was
feeling
! Her senses were bursting with the heady cocktail of stimulants bombarding her brain. The fractured moan in her throat deepened raggedly as her fingers pressed deep into the springy lushness of his ebony hair. Crazily, even the shape of his skull thrilled her all the way down to her toes.

His lips were on her neck, her eyelids…everywhere. His clever hands moved continuously, tracing the shape of every aspect of her face. The intimacy of his exploration was simply devastating. One big hand moved to the base of her spine and, fingers splayed over the small hollow at the base of her slender back, he dragged her pliant body hard against him. She gave a startled gasp as the liquid heat low in her belly became white-hot. Desire ripped away the last shreds of her restraint.

Holly wriggled sinuously and her small breasts bounced along enthusiastically before they were firmly compressed in an entirely satisfactory manner against his broad chest. The abrasive pressure against her sensitised nipples was delicious. The heavy throb of their individual pulses became intermingled and inseparable to her sensitive ears.

He wasn’t still angry—this was no longer a punishment kiss—but he was hungry, demanding and aroused. This was raw sex like she’d never known it—like she’d never in her wildest dreams imagined existed! A heavy throbbing stupor invaded her limbs; it made her feverish caresses clumsy.

The first motorcycle that went past hooted its horn as it roared past; the rest of the small convoy followed suit. The mocking sounds dragged Holly kicking and screaming from her snug sensual cocoon. Little slivers of sense swam to the surface in her sex-saturated brain.

There was no leverage in the hands she ineffectually placed against his shoulders. ‘This is very silly.’ In broad daylight on the public highway—it was probably illegal, too!

His dark flushed face was very close to her own as she forced her eyes to open. The taut olive-toned skin was drawn tight across those impressive cheekbones. His eyes as he stared back at her were oddly unfocused.

‘Definitely,’ he agreed vaguely. The hands that slid underneath the short, semi-fitted silky shirt she’d hoped was suitable for meeting the aristocratic in-laws didn’t seem very convinced.

He knew this was going to stop—he was going to stop. It wasn’t as if this could go anywhere. His fingertips accidentally brushed the peak of one small breast and her body reacted as though she’d just suffered an electric shock; the deep ripple that passed through her entire body vibrated against the pads of his fingertips. He graphically pictured other, deeper ripples gripping that slender body. On the other hand, there was no big hurry, was there?

‘Your skin is so incredibly soft!’ he groaned, sliding his fingers over the slope of her ribcage just beneath the lacy bra she wore. Aroused beyond bearing, the constriction of his position became agonising as he breathed in the sweet, sharp, intensely feminine scent that arose from her hot skin and pictured her body beneath his.

The top buttons of her shirt had parted to reveal the shadowy promise of a very appealing cleavage. We are talking quality not quantity, here, he thought, recalling the pert outline of her small pointed breasts against that sexy dress she’d worn. With a groan, he pulled back; head pressed against the headrest, he dragged a slightly unsteady hand through his thick hair.

‘You’re right.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘This isn’t the time or place to do what we want.’

His assumption—understandable, possibly in the circumstances—made her eyes narrow. ‘You’re very free with the
we
all of a sudden.’

It was hard to sound haughty when her messed-up hair was sticking to her sweaty face and her shirt was unbuttoned all the way to her waist, but Holly was pretty plucky, not to mention stubborn. Niall Wesley kissed a girl and just assumed she was his—and, considering how well he kissed, she wasn’t surprised he thought that way! But she wasn’t going to be any man’s casual lay! He was looking at his watch, that was how deeply involved he’d been!

‘I’m probably not a gentleman to mention it, but you didn’t act as if you were overcome with revulsion.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with your technique,’ she conceded sneeringly.

‘Why, thank you, ma’am.’ He inclined his head mockingly in gratitude.

‘That a little bit of spontaneity wouldn’t cure.’ Head on one side, she made a big show of giving the problem some consideration. ‘Some of your moves seem a little stale, if you know what I mean…’

Irritatingly, he didn’t seem the slightest bit hurt and offended. Head back, he laughed hard and long. Holly found there was something awfully appealing about the uninhibited way he gave himself up to mirth. You’d find something appealing about a wart, if he had one, she told herself angrily.

‘I know
exactly
what you mean.’ Holly didn’t like the way he said that one bit. ‘Don’t worry, I’m never going to mistake you for anyone else, even with the lights off.’

Holly didn’t quite know what to make of this ambiguous remark—it
might
be a compliment! Then again…

‘I’m never likely to turn the lights off while you’re around,’ she hissed.

‘Really?’ His eyes widened appreciatively. ‘How compatible we are, Holly. Though touch without the benefit of sight can be a very sensual experience, too. Yeah,’ he speculated, warming to his theme, ‘I rather like the idea of taking your hand and guiding you around my body.’ His husky, indecent drawl summoned an erotic haze from clear air—it was so tangible she could have reached out and burnt herself on it.

‘If you talk to me like that again, I’ll—’ she began explosively. Well, go on, what will you do, Holly? Lie down and say, Take me? ‘I’ll tell everyone we’re not engaged.’

He smiled, not looking too worried by her threat. ‘Well, right now,’ he said turning the key in the ignition, ‘fasten up your shirt or I might just ruin my clean driving licence.’

Blushing wildly Holly did as she was bidden and lapsed into resentful silence. She was sure he was being sarcastic. It wasn’t possible for a man who had had two such remarkably well-endowed women like Rowena and Tara in his life to find her less than ample curves worth driving into a tree.

Niall skirted the gravel-covered forecourt in front of the main entrance to his ancestral home and drove instead right around to the back of the house, where the Elizabethan origins of the great rambling building were very evident.

‘Family barbecue,’ he explained, holding the door open for her. ‘And we’re late.’ His mother had a thing about lateness, which thirty-five years of being married to his absent-minded father had not dimmed.

Holly tore her eyes from the magnificent building he so casually called home and knew she couldn’t even pretend to be at ease in these surroundings…with these people. She shook her head slowly from side to side.