The Unexpected Child

If only he knew how much she had come to hate that word, particularly now, when the description seemed so very far from flattering. It was more than he had ever offered her before, but a million miles from what she wanted. As his friend, she had no physical appeal for him. The cold rationality of that thought pushed her into a belated attempt to assert some sort of control over things.

‘I don’t think it would be—’

‘Please.’

It came so softly that she might have missed it if she hadn’t been so sensitive to everything about him, but she did catch it and it tugged at her already vulnerable heart. It would have taken a far stronger will than she possessed to resist that low-voiced appeal, and besides, he was already drifting away into exhausted sleep, heavy lids closing, his breathing slowing.

Looking at him now, with those brilliant eyes hidden from her, his face relaxing from the taut, strained lines that had drawn the skin tight over his forceful bone structure, she could see the younger Pierce in him again.

‘I need a hand to hold...’

‘What?’ She couldn’t believe she had heard right, the words slurred with sleep. Or, if she had, did it mean as much to him as it did to her?

‘A hand to hold...’

Natalie bit down hard on her lower lip as the intervening years were stripped away and she was once more a skinny adolescent, physically a late developer and desperately, painfully self-conscious, particularly when Pierce Donellan was around.

He hadn’t noticed her at first, of course. When her mother had started work at the Manor, she had been a mere eleven, and Pierce a lordly twenty-year-old. He had barely spared her a glance then, or at any point over the next couple of years, but then fate had stepped in in a dramatic way, throwing her quite literally at his feet.

She had been on her way home from school, returning late after staying for choir practice, and already the gathering dusk had been closing in around her, the conditions worsened by a miserable, persistent drizzle. It had been as she was crossing the road to the bus-stop that a motor cyclist, travelling far too fast, had come roaring round the corner, slamming into her and sending her flying. For a moment she had lost consciousness, coming round a short time later to find herself lying on the pavement supported by strong, comforting arms and with a pair of deeply concerned blue eyes looking down into hers.

She’d thought she’d died and gone to heaven, she recalled now, a soft smile curving her lips at the memory of the way Pierce, who had been taking that route home when he had seen the accident, had despatched someone to collect her mother while he stayed with her, travelling to the hospital in the ambulance when it came. He had held her hand, soothed away her fear with gentle words, and hadn’t even noticed the way her badly grazed arm had dripped blood all over his expensive suit.

She’d lost her heart to him then, and in the weeks that followed, when, knowing that a fractured ankle meant that she was confined to her room in the housekeeper’s quarters at the Manor, he had been a frequent visitor, bringing books and games to keep her amused, tasty treats to tempt her appetite. She had lost her heart completely and had never, ever been able to get it back.

It had been then that, unable to thank him properly, but wanting to convey her gratitude as well as she could, she had poured out the ardent, if naive, declaration of feeling that Pierce’s words had brought so vividly to mind.

‘If ever you need me—for anything—you only have to ask,’ she had said, not pausing to ask herself what an unsophisticated, barely fourteen-year-old could possibly offer to a grown man almost a decade older. ‘If you need someone—a hand to hold as you held mine—I’ll be there.’

But then, of course, what she had felt for Pierce had been simple hero-worship, the blind, unquestioning devotion of innocence, uncomplicated by the sort of considerations that had come with maturity and a greater understanding of the complexities of relationships between men and women. With young adulthood had come a realisation of exactly what her mother feared, and a new sense of awareness—the sort of awareness that now kept her frozen on the edge of the bed, unable to move one way or the other.

‘Nat?’ Pierce forced open sleep-blurred eyes, their jewel brightness softened to the gentleness of a spring morning sky. ‘I just need someone...’

Letting her breath escape on a soundless sigh, Natalie admitted to herself that there was no way she could hold out any longer. If all he wanted from her was the sort of uncomplicated friendship he had offered all those years before, then that was what she would give him.

Besides, she knew that she was incapable of resisting the temptation to finally be able to be closer to him, physically at least, than she had ever been before, to hold him against her, just this once, offering what comfort she could until he fell asleep and was too deeply unconscious to be aware of her slipping from his side and returning to her own bed.

Just this once, she told herself as she lifted the corner of the blankets and slid in beside him. What harm could it do?

CHAPTER THREE

FROM the first second, Natalie knew she had made a terrible mistake.

She had promised herself that she would simply wait until Pierce was deeply asleep, and then she would go, but in the moment that she felt the warm length of his strong body against hers it was as if the heat of his skin had seeped into every cell in her body, softening bone and muscle and draining her of any strength, any ability to move.

Each time her mind told her that she should go, that Pierce was oblivious to her presence, that there was no way he would notice if she left, she found that her limbs had no strength to move, that they were weighed down by a sensual lassitude that had nothing to do with any concern about disturbing the man at her side.

Just one more minute, she told herself, glorying in the soft warmth of his breath on her neck, the slide of the black silk of his hair against her cheek. One of her arms lay around his shoulders, tinglingly aware of the power of the muscles under the satin skin, the rough texture of the dark, curling hair on his chest, and it was all that she could do to stop her fingers from wandering further, exploring the lean strength so close to her, the long legs touching her own.

Just one more minute; that was all she wanted. One more minute to lie like this, drawing in the musky male scent of his body, hearing the faint sound of his breathing, feeling the way his chest rose and fell. This might be all she would ever have of him, all she would ever know of the physical pleasure of being close. It was probably her one and only chance ever to hold him, and the memories she was storing up tonight would have to last her for the rest of her life.

Just one more minute...

She wasn’t aware of falling asleep, knew nothing more until, some time in the dark stillness of the night, she stirred at last, surfacing slowly to become conscious of some restriction to her movement, instinctively tensing against it, straining to be free, then freezing again as the warm restraint tightened, holding her still.

‘No,’ said a voice in her ear, the lazy drawl having an unyielding edge to it that sent a shiver of apprehension running down her spine. ‘Stay right where you are.’

Pierce’s voice, and Pierce’s arms were holding her captive.

‘But—’ Her throat was dry, making her voice weak and croaking.

‘Shh.’

It shivered across her skin, making her twist in uncontrollable response, a small cry of shock escaping her as the unwary movement brought her slender legs into intimate contact with the hair-roughened length of his. The next moment, that cry was cut short by the soft pressure of Pierce’s mouth on hers in a swift, gentle caress that made all her senses spring to life, knotting her nerves with the immediate intensity of her response.

‘This is nice—very nice indeed.’

In the dim light, Natalie could see that Pierce’s eyes were barely open, and the dreamy, unfocused sound of his voice made her heart skip a beat at the thought that perhaps he wasn’t really awake, that possibly he was still tangled in dreams, thinking she was someone else—and there was only one person that could be.

She didn’t know what would happen, what, if anything, might result from the situation in which she now found herself, but she was sure of one thing. She couldn’t bear to be mistaken for the fiancée Pierce had loved and lost; it would tear her heart into pieces.

‘Pierce...’

What little there was of her voice died in her throat as his hands moved over her, stroking, moulding the shape of her body under the soft cotton of her nightdress, lingering heart-stoppingly at her breasts and hips.

‘You never used to feel like this before.’ His voice was still blurred and thick.

‘That was because we never used to do this sort of thing.’

‘How very foolish,’ Pierce murmured. ‘Foolish—and very wasteful.’

‘Pierce...’ Natalie tried again.

‘We should have, you know.’ His lips were on hers, the words whispered against the softness of her mouth. ‘Should have done this a long time ago. We’ve wasted an appalling amount of time, you and I.’

Trying to control her reactions didn’t work. Already her wayward body was responding, opening to him like a flower to the sun. As she moved against him, she felt the force of his desire pressing into the softness of her stomach, triggering a heated reaction deep inside her.

She was weakening—no, not weakening—she had never had the strength to resist Pierce from the start. This was why she had always kept her distance physically—because she had known from the outset, from the moment that that searing sexual awareness had burned away her innocent hao-worship, replacing it with something much more complex and dangerous, that if he was ever to touch her it would be like this. She had known she would never be able to fight him—and she couldn’t now—but she couldn’t have any doubts—she had to know for certain.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Never been surer,’ that husky voice assured her. ‘We wasted a lot of time in the past, but not now...’

Warm lips slid up the pale length of her throat, across her cheek, capturing her mouth again in the same moment that his caressing hands reached the hem of the blue nightdress, easing it upwards, his fingers burning a scorching path to the aching sensitivity of her breasts. When he moulded them softly, the heat of his palms against her skin made her writhe in unrestrained delight.

‘You used to be such a little girl—but now you’re all woman.’

Natalie drew in her breath in sharp delight, her back arching in immediate response as the soft warmth of his hands closed over her sensitised flesh, sending shafts of pleasure through her whole body, heating the blood in her veins.

‘The sort of woman any man would want...’ The words were punctuated by tiny, sharply teasing bites that made her lower body jerk in instinctive response. ‘And here you are—with me...’

‘Pierce...’

She wasn’t even aware of whether she had actually formed his name as a coherent sound, knowing only that she was sinking deeper and deeper, hot waters of desire closing over her head, very definitely going down for the third time—and yet she had to know.

‘Pierce—’

‘Hush, Natalie,’ that soft voice soothed, and at the sound of her own name every nerve in her body clenched on a wave of pure joy.

He knew. Pierce had spoken her name so that she could be in no doubt that he knew very clearly just who she was. She needed no further convincing that it was her—Natalie—and not Phillippa he was making love to. She knew it, and, more importantly, Pierce knew it too, the thought bringing such a rush of happiness that only physical action could express it.

And so, acting on instincts she hadn’t known she possessed, instincts that must have been inherent in her as a woman, handed down from the dawn of time, from Eve herself, because she certainly had no experience on which to base them, she reached for Pierce, linking her hands in the soft hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his head down towards hers so that their mouths met.

The explosion of need deep within her was instantaneous, softening her lips under his, opening them to the thrust of his tongue, bringing her body close to his like a needle drawn irresistibly to a magnet, the feel of the hard muscle, the roughness of hair strangely alien and yet somehow so perfectly right that she sighed against his mouth—a small, satisfied sound.

It was as if an electrical storm was brewing, charging the atmosphere with powerful currents, striking sparks from Pierce’s hands where he touched, from his mouth where it pressed against her skin. She was adrift, unable to think, knowing only that this was what she had wanted for so long, and she couldn’t believe it was real.

‘Don’t be shy, Natalie.’ Pierce’s voice was husky in her ear. ‘Relax, darling—touch me.’

‘Touch me’! She felt as if she had been given the key that would unlock the chains that held her, binding her to the earth. To have the freedom to touch him, caress him, kiss him, was all she had ever wanted, and now he had given it to her, not even knowing how much it meant. She felt as if she was soaring, floating high up into a golden sky where the heat of the sun warmed her blood, driving away all caution, all restraint.

‘Like this?’

Her fingers gloried in the feel of him, the warmth of his skin, the power of hard muscle underneath. She let them wander where they wanted, down the long back, over the narrow hips, smiling secretly to herself as he jerked convulsively under her touch.

‘Yes, like that- Oh, yes! But- Oh, God, Nat!’

Hard fingers gripped her shoulders, pulling her underneath him, his breathing ragged and uneven, and she felt a faint whisper of fear across her skin, just for a second. But then he kissed her again, muttering her name against her lips, and all tension vanished. This was Pierce—the man she had loved for so long. And this was what she had wanted—for ever, it seemed.

But however much she wanted it there was still the sharp stab of pain that clenched her muscles involuntarily against the hard force of his invasion, her tension and the small cry she couldn’t hold back stilling him at once to stare down at her shadowed face.

‘Natalie,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Nat...?’

‘No!’ She was suddenly fearful that he would stop, that, recognising her inexperience, he would no longer want her as he had just moments before. ‘Don’t stop.’

‘But Nat-’

‘I said, don’t stop!’

Instinct came to her aid, relaxing the muscles that had tightened, making her move slightly under him, awkwardly at first, but then more sensually, more confidently, as an inner, intuitive rhythm took control.

‘Natalie—’

Her name was a shaken cry, choked off as she kissed the protest from his lips, stroking her hands across his skin, down over the powerful ribcage, sliding them round the narrow waist, slipping lower...

‘Nat—sweetheart—don’t—I can‘t—’

The husky desperation in Pierce’s voice went straight to her head like a glass of the most potent spirit, combining with the soft tug of his mouth at her breast to send her soaring into a world of delight such as she had never known before. She had never felt so free, so sure—so alive. Every move was made without thinking, every caress a delight, and somewhere ahead, like the light at the end of a tunnel, was something...

She was reaching—reaching for it—when suddenly, far sooner than she had anticipated, and well before she was emotionally ready, she felt the world explode around her in a shower of stars. A moment later Pierce gave a sharp cry, his whole body tightened and he crushed her hard against him, his arms like bands of steel, until, slowly, he subsided against her, his breathing ragged and uneven.

Coming back to reality slowly and painfully, Natalie was only aware of one thought in her mind, like a nagging ache through the glow of fulfilment.

It was over. That brief moment of delight was all she would ever know of Pierce’s love. No—not his love, because for him it had only been a way of holding back the darkness, filling the emptiness for a short time. But for her it had been the magic of giving herself to the man who had held her heart in his hands for so many years, and now, too soon—far, far too soon—it was over. In spite of herself, she couldn’t hold back a faint sigh of regret, tears burning her eyes.

‘Oh, God, Nat—I’m sorry.’ To her distress, Pierce had caught the slight sound.

‘No.’ She closed his mouth with her fingers. ‘Pierce—please!’

She didn’t want him to talk; didn’t want any recriminations, any post-mortems.

‘Damn it, this wasn’t how I meant it to be,’ he muttered against her hand, but even through the anger she could hear how exhaustion was blurring his voice again, the stress of the day, the long journey, and the effects of the wine he had drunk, claiming him again even though he was trying so hard to fight them.

‘I know.’

Once more, instinct came to her aid, driving her to lift her hands to his hair, smoothing, stroking gently, feeling the tension in the powerful body ease slowly, like the tide ebbing away from the shore.

‘I know—but it doesn’t matter. It’s not important.’

What mattered—all that really mattered to her—was that just this once, for one brief moment at least, he had wanted her, and no one else, and, knowing that, how could she ever say that what had happened had been wrong in any way, or ever regret it?

Beside her, Pierce sighed deeply, losing the battle to keep his heavy lids from closing, his muscled frame relaxing as he slid into sleep, and a small, sad smile curled her lips. He had wanted her, but not enough. Enough for tonight, perhaps, but not for the lifetime commitment she dreamed of.

‘Next time...’

The words were just a breath, long-drawn-out and barely audible, oblivion claiming Pierce even as he tried to form them.

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