The Married Mistress. Kate Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ hold, Sarah could just peer upwards to where the voluptuous woman was leaning over the banisters, displaying an ample amount of what she clearly thought was enticing cleavage.

      But Damon appeared far from enticed.

      ‘You’re here now,’ he flung up at her. ‘And I’d much prefer it if you weren’t. So get some clothes on and get yourself and your lover out of here—fast! Or I won’t be answerable for the consequences.’

      Andrea pouted petulantly at his tone, but she read it well enough to know that he meant exactly what he said. Flouncing into the bedroom, she must have tossed on clothes at speed, pushed into action by the threat in Damon’s tone, because it was only minutes before she reappeared, fully dressed in a tight white shirt and the miniest of miniskirts, the red satin robe slung carelessly over one arm. Clopping inelegantly down the stairs in white sling-back stilettos, she marched over to the small group in the hall.

      ‘I believe this is yours.’

      She tossed the robe onto the floor at their feet, then turned to the still staring Jason and caught hold of his arm.

      ‘C’mon, Jace,’ she said. ‘It’s time we were out of here.’

      ‘I should listen to the lady, Jace…’ Damon laced both the nickname and the word ‘lady’ with the stinging bite of acidic sarcasm. ‘It is time you were going.’

      ‘But—’ Jason began, then looked straight into Damon’s deep black eyes and clearly thought better of what he had been about to say.

      ‘OK,’ he muttered. ‘I’m coming.’

      But there was something in his voice that told Sarah he was not finished yet. That he had more to say—or do—before he left them in peace.

      Instinctively she tensed in Damon’s arms, waiting, wondering…

      But whatever she had feared never came.

      The slam of the door behind the departing pair was a sudden shock to her system, jarring every nerve in her tense body and making her head jerk upwards from its secure pillowing on Damon’s hard chest.

      ‘It’s OK.’

      Lazily he stilled her, soothed her with a stroking hand down over her hair, her shoulder, her arm.

      ‘They’ve gone.’ He looked down at her, grinned into her warily watchful green eyes. ‘It’s safe to come out now.’

      ‘I wasn’t scared!’

      Desperately, Sarah tried to gather together some of the tattered strands of her shattered self-esteem so as to meet the smile in his eyes with some degree of composure. He looked too damn pleased with himself by half.

      ‘I wasn’t!’ she repeated more emphatically, to answer the tormenting question that was clearly in his thoughts, lifting the corner of one jet-black eyebrow in mocking inquiry. ‘I was simply—held prisoner by you.’

      To emphasise the point she twisted in his still restraining arms, attempting to pull herself free. At first, for a heart-stopping moment, she thought he was going to resist, forcing her into either an ungainly and undignified struggle or a humiliating submission. But then, suddenly, he released her with an abruptness that had her swaying uncomfortably on unsteady feet, stubbornly refusing to reach out a hand and cling on to the strength of his arms for support.

      The fact that he so obviously knew exactly what was going through her mind only added a hundredfold to her discomfiture. She hated the way that the gleam in his eyes brightened, the tiny quirk upwards at the corner of his lips revealing his amusement.

      ‘So now you’re free,’ he drawled softly.

      ‘Yes,’ Sarah managed, adding because she felt she had to, ‘Thank you.’

      ‘My pleasure.’

      He was bending as he spoke, reaching down to scoop up the red robe from where Andrea had tossed it moments before.

      ‘This is yours, I believe.’

      Sarah turned a glance of loathing on the inoffensive article that Damon held out to her. It was impossible not to notice the contrast between the strength of the blunt, strong, tanned fingers and the fine, slippery material that seemed totally insubstantial in the firm grasp. But the thought of touching either made her shiver inside.

      Slowly she reached out, took hold of the crimson silk, then gave in to her inclinations and, crushing the garment mercilessly, she crumpled it into a ball and flung it with all her strength as far away from her as she could manage.

      ‘I don’t want it! Not after she’s worn it! I couldn’t bear to touch it again.’

      Damon’s dark eyes followed the bright sliver of material as it sailed through the air in a graceful arc and fell to the ground once more. Then his gaze swung back to Sarah’s face, looking deep into her eyes.

      ‘I’ll buy you another.’

      ‘No need—I…’

      The words died away as she realised not just what he had said but the implications behind it. Clearly Damon planned to stay around, for a while at least. And that was not something she was comfortable with. Certainly not after the scene he had just witnessed, and the interpretation he had obviously put on it. And, even worse, after the discovery that she had made about herself.

      ‘I can get one myself. I earn a good salary at the art gallery; I can afford to buy myself a nightgown…’

      She was speaking only to fill the silence, she knew. And to distract her own thoughts. There were too many things she didn’t want to think about—didn’t dare to think about—and for now it was so much easier to concentrate on the immediate present and what was happening in it.

      After all, there was more than enough to face up to there. Sarah drew in her breath sharply and let it out again on a silent sigh. Jason might have gone—and Andrea. And quite frankly she was more than glad to see the back of both of them. But Damon was still here. And getting rid of him was a different prospect altogether.

      Her shoulders, which had relaxed in the moments she had watched Jason and Andrea walk away, now tensed again. Her throat tightened so that she had to swallow hard to ease the dryness there, and her chin came up as defiance flared in the green depths of her eyes.

      ‘What are you doing here, Damon?’

      ‘I came to see you, of course, my darling…’

      ‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it!’ Sarah put in hastily and sharply, terrified of hearing that emotive word ‘wife’ on his lips.

      Once she had been proud and happy—so happy—to be his wife, even if for his own reasons Damon had insisted that, for a while at least, they told no one the truth. But now their brief, painful façade of a marriage was something she desperately wanted to forget. To obliterate from her mind, if she couldn’t erase it from her past.

      ‘I want to know why you’re here—in London.’

      ‘I have business in town. Important meetings.’

      It СКАЧАТЬ