Guardian to the Heiress (18 page)

“Well, Uncle Maurice?” Carol asked, trying hard to control her distress. It was so difficult to be strong.

“I can assure you, I won’t let you get away with slandering me,” Dallas threatened, fully prepared to brazen it out. ‘Well, Maurice, don’t just sit there gawping.”

Maurice Chancellor’s belated response was to rise to his feet. “Why don’t we call the police now?” he said, moving to stand directly in front of his wife. “You didn’t return to our bedroom, Dallas, after you saw Troy off. It was a good while after. I intend to tell the police that.”

“Will you, now?” Dallas gave a loud, trumpeting laugh full of contempt. “I’ll have something to tell them, as well.”

“Don’t bother,” Maurice said in the voice of self-loathing. “Carol and Damon already know. I’ve made my confession. You were an accessory to embezzlement, by the way. Ponder that. You’ve held it over me for many long, unhappy years. What a gutless creature I am. You’ve ruined our son, by the way. Carol is allowing me to pay the money into one of her charities. I’ll be more than happy to do that.”

Dallas, too, was on her feet, showing the tremendous weight of anger in her. “You fool!”

Maurice Chancellor’s handsome face was full of desolation. “The biggest mistake of my life was picking you for my wife. You were never the person I thought you were. No wonder I fell in love with Roxanne. I got little of it from you, or anyone else, for that matter. I was the forgotten boy, the forgotten man. I was never
real
to anyone. Not even my mother.”

“Who was a basket case!”

“You’re
real
to me, Uncle Maurice,” Carol said, suddenly feeling very sorry for him. “Please sit down again. We have to work out what to do.” Her blue gaze was more sad than recriminatory.

“Thank you for that, Carol,” he said with a bent head.

* * *

Ninety minutes later, they were back in Sydney. Both of them had been very quiet in the car, both shaken by Dallas’s total lack of repentance. She had admitted nothing, but they just knew she was guilty. How to prove it? How to avoid a terrible scandal? How was it to be dealt with? Yet another terrible family secret? There could be no miraculous reconciliation; that was out of the question. Was Dallas still to be feared? The extraordinary thing was, Maurice Chancellor was all for keeping it in the family.

“Dallas can clear off. Get out of the country,” he had said by way of a solution. “Believe me, she wouldn’t fancy going to jail.”

The city, so beautiful by day with its magnificent blue harbour, was dazzling by night. The city towers and the icons, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge, were ablaze with lights. For once Carol couldn’t find her usual response of delight in the sight. Damon saw her to her apartment. She stood quietly inside the door for a moment, looking a little bereft. She held her hands to her temples, then rubbed them. “Headache.” It couldn’t be her voice. It sounded so young. “Come in, Damon. Please don’t run away.” It was Saturday night. He could be going somewhere, when she badly wanted him beside her. She was sick of their set of rules.

“I’ve no intention of going anywhere, Carol. I’m not surprised you’ve got a headache. You’re in shock.”

“Plus the fact I haven’t been sleeping. Dallas tried to kill me, Damon.” She turned to him in utter disbelief. “Her mission failed. I wasn’t driving my car. But it was a miracle Amanda and Summer escaped with little injury. What’s to stop Dallas from trying again? She’s challenging us to go to the police—circumstantial evidence, no witnesses to what we say she did. Troy would back her. Dallas said my grandmother was a basket case. What does she think
she
is? I’ll tell you what she is—she’s deranged. I’m just so grateful she’s not my blood.”

Damon looked grim. “Let’s not think about that now. I’ll get you a couple of painkillers. Where are they?”

“In one of the kitchen drawers. Could you make me a cup of coffee—no,
tea—
as soon as possible, Damon?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“Migraine? I know they can be really bad.”

“I don’t suffer from migraines. Just a pounding here near my temples.” She placed her fingers against the spots. “I’ll take this outfit off, find something...” Her voice trailed off. “You know where things are.”

“Leave it to me.”

* * *

When she returned she was wearing a long, floaty garment held by a halter around the neck. The fabric was lovely, silk on a sapphire-blue ground patterned in swirls of darker blue and green with touches of gold. He held the glass of water out to her, with two painkillers.

“Thank you, Damon. You didn’t have plans for tonight, did you?”

“Swallow the tablets,” he said, waiting until she had done so before taking the glass off her. “Sit down on the sofa and try to relax.”

“So much bad history in my family,” she lamented, moving off slowly. “Now this. She wasn’t exactly drowning in guilt, was she? Maybe her sanity has gone.”

“Sit quietly, Carol. Find an area of peace,” he advised.

“Come and sit beside me, if you’re not planning to go away.” She felt reduced to pleading. “You’re always holding yourself in check. You think we went too far, too fast, don’t you?” She stared up at him, trying to read his closed expression, unreadable to her.

“I won’t come and sit beside you until you stop talking,” Damon said. “Give the painkillers time to work.”

“That could be ten minutes.” She was quiet for a moment, before firing up again. “What did she expect me to say? All is forgiven? God!” She met his dark eyes. “Okay, okay. I just need you beside me. I’ll close my eyes.”

“Good girl.”

“I’m a
woman,
Damon, with a woman’s needs.”

As though she had to remind him! Every nerve in his body was strung tight.

“I feel a bit sick,” she said after a few moments.

“Breathe,” he urged very gently, putting a cradling arm around her. He couldn’t do otherwise. The scent of crushed rose petals floated from her skin, intoxicating him. “Keep breathing.”

She tried to give herself up to it.

“Keep going,” he murmured. “One breath after another. You...can...feel...your...tension...going. Breathe...breathe...” He spaced out the words.

Carol rested her head against his shoulder feeling a rush of
peace.
“I’m so tired,” she murmured. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing began to even out.

“Then sleep,” Damon bid her. “I’m here.”

“That’s all that matters,” she said drowsily, already beginning to drift away. Damon had the most wonderful soothing voice. Carol curled herself around him like a drowsy, contented cat.

How difficult that made it to control the molten rush of blood through his veins. She was so small against him, but it was a woman’s body she possessed, effortlessly, innocently seductive. He could feel her warmth through the fabric of her floaty dress that showed off an unrestrained outline of her small, perfect breasts. He rested his chin in her rosy curls. Her breathing had deepened. She was in a light sleep when his strong male body was racked with sensations as painful as they were exquisite. How was he expected to endure this?

Make the effort,
his inner voice countered sternly.
If she means so much to you, you can do it. Think of it as a test of your resolve to do what is best for her.

He began to count, anything to suppress the build-up of sexual excitement. One... He counted four seconds before two... Four seconds before three... And so on. It wasn’t all that easy to keep the count without concentrating on what he was doing. Heaven would surely reward his efforts.

* * *

He must have dozed off himself because when he opened his eyes and looked down at her she was staring up at him, her eyes a fabulous blue.

“The headache’s gone,” she whispered.

“I’m glad.”

She kept staring at him, her porcelain skin lightly flushed, her lovely mouth parted, showing the tips of her small white teeth.

He could feel himself unravelling. She looked heartbreakingly young. “What are you trying to do to me, Carol? Whatever it is, I don’t know that I can combat it.”

“Hush now.” She placed two fingers against his mouth. “Listen to your own heart.”

“I’m trying to listen to my head.”

“Sometimes the heart has more power than the head. Kiss me, Damon,” she invited softly. “I
need
you to kiss me. I know you want to.”

His tone was harsh, even to his own ears. “Carol, you know very well it won’t end there.”

Every word of rejection hurt her. “What’s the point of this stand-off, Damon?” she burst out in utter frustration. “You act as though I’m under-age. You act as though making love to me will break all the rules of good conduct. You act like you
wrote
the damned things.”

“Some things are set in stone.” He thrust a hand through his thick coal-black hair. “You’re very vulnerable at this point, Carol. You’ve had a bad shock. You’re off-balance.”

“So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be here in your arms?” She sank into sarcasm.

“Carol, baby, please.”

She half sat up. “I refuse to be shut out,” she told him fiercely. “I
love
you. Love you. Love you. Love you. You’ve got a big problem with that?” Her voice rose and echoed.

He caught her wrists, his emotions dangerously unchained by her passionate admission. That gave him far too much power. “Don’t you know—?” he cried.

The rest of the sentence remained unspoken. “Don’t underestimate me, Damon. I know it all.”

She was looking back at him as though they were at war. “Carol, you’re my responsibility. It’s my duty—”

“Oh, shut up about your sacred duty.” The speed with which they had come to clashing was dazzling. She struck him again, feeling his chest muscles tighten against the attack.

He tried to joke. “Those sessions at the gym have to stop.”

“Don’t!”
Suddenly she snapped. She made a violent move to get away from him, in the process winding her long dress mummylike around her body. Instead of managing a leap to her feet, she almost took a tumble.

He caught her back to him, incredible tension in his hard, throbbing body. The emotional temperature was going through the roof. Even the air around them crackled with charge. His feelings for her forced him to take a fantastic turn around. Hunger for her grew stronger than his resolve. His body knew him better than he knew himself. He started to kiss her, his hand snaking into her silky curls so she couldn’t turn her head. He was kissing her not like she was a precious piece of porcelain but a living, breathing
woman,
a woman he desired above all others. He had urged her earlier to breathe in and out to calm herself, only he was kissing her so passionately she might scarcely be able to breathe at all.

He lifted his mouth fractionally from hers, only she whispered fiercely, “Don’t you dare stop.”

“As unlikely as that appears to be. But understand, I will reach a point when I won’t be able to stop.” He gave
fair warning.

“You think I don’t know that?” She stared up at him incredulously. “Keep going, Damon. I
mean
it. I’m tired of obeying the rules. Make love to me. If you don’t, I promise you, I’ll simply crack up.”

“Don’t I know the way that works?” he said with black humour, his resonant voice slipping deep in his throat. Control had moved off a great distance. It was a frenzy of longing she aroused in him, the craving to have her. Heiress or not, he wouldn’t give her up. Not after she had told him she loved him. Over and over. For that he was willing to pay any price.

Wall sconces glimmered along the hallway. He lifted her in his arms with great ease, carrying her down the corridor and setting her on her bed. The skirt of her lovely dress belled out around her. To him she was the most desirable woman in the world.

“Well, here we are, Carol!” He bent over her, his breathing coming hard. “This is decision time. You have to be absolutely sure.”

For an answer she knelt up on the bed, bouncing a little on the springy mattress but still managing to get a grip on him. “Come here to me, you gorgeous man.” She allowed herself to fall back, pulling his upper body down over her, revelling in the weight of it against her breasts. “It’s okay, Damon,” she whispered, her eyes on the moulded arabesques on the plastered ceiling. “You won’t make me pregnant. Not tonight, anyway. I’m on the pill. All for you,” she added. “Let me make that plain.”

He was astonished and aroused. “You
meant
for me to make love to you, you wicked girl?”

She offered a laugh that entranced him. “God, Damon, I’ve lived for this moment. You’ve changed my world. Don’t you know that? Everything has become more meaningful. I know you want me. I suppose it’s possible I might want you more, but—”

She got no further. “I’ll show you
want.
” He placed one hand over her breast, feeling the tightly budded nipple. “You’re more precious to me than an Aladdin’s cave full of treasure—chests brimming over with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires like your eyes.” He lifted his head a moment, as though struck by a thought. “Actually, I
love
rubies. What about you?”

“My favourite gemstone!” Carol cried, her whole being exuding joy. “Come back here to me.”

“I can, now
that’s
out of the way.” He lowered his head to kiss her, feeling her gently slide the tip of her tongue into his mouth.

“What’s out of the way?” she asked after some time.

“Never you mind.” His voice was faintly slurred. He had a ruby engagement ring in mind. Slowly he began to undo the halter that held her dress. “How should I describe you,
my
little seductress?”

She gave him a slow, sweet, incandescent smile. “My philosophy is, if offered a heaven-sent opportunity, one should never turn it down. However, apart from telling me I’m more valuable to you than a treasure trove of precious jewels, you haven’t yet told me you
love
me.”

“How could I not?” The expression on his handsome face turned very serious. “To love you is my fate. I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you—the adorable little redhead, so full of fight. I intend to tell you just how much I love you right through the night.”