Australian Outback Kings / The Cattle King's Mistress / The Playboy King's Wife / The Pleasure King's Bride (37 page)

The family would go on…future generations…the Kings of the Outback… Lachlan's heritage safe. She could rest in peace tonight. She no longer felt the gnawing sense of loss that had driven her from King's Eden. It wasn't just the past here now. It held a future, as well.

* * * * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The story you have just read is the second of three revolving around the Kings of the Kimberly—all of them set in the Outback of Australia.

I trust you have enjoyed reading how Tommy King and Samantha Connelly finally came together in “
The Playboy King's Wife.
”

I hope you will be intrigued by Christabel's story and eager to read how the third King brother, Jared, pursues his passion for this enigmatic woman in
The Pleasure King's Bride
.

Emma Darcy

THE PLEASURE KING'S BRIDE

CHAPTER ONE

A
MAN IN
a suit!

No-one wore a suit in Broome, especially not on a Sunday afternoon.

A surge of fear shot Christabel upright from the waist-deep water she'd been swimming in. She needed a better view of the man who was crossing the park above the beach,
wearing a suit
!

Was it one of
them
?

Had they tracked her down?

Before she could get a good look at him, his path took him behind the amenities block. She waited, her heart thumping wildly from the shock of being faced with the possibility that she had been found, despite all her precautions.

Six months she'd been here…perhaps, too long…long enough for her to start feeling safe…which was always a mistake. Stupid to ever feel
safe
from them, with so much at stake. Though there had seemed a very real chance of it, being so far away from everything that mattered to them, camped in this outpost of civilisation on the coastal edge of the great Australian outback.

Broome—a raggle-taggle, multicultural township that had grown up around the pearling industry when people still dived for pearl shell and died of the bends—was at the other end of the earth from the money men in Europe. Its history and tropical location, high on the west coast of the Kimberly region, attracted tourists, but
no-one wore a suit here
, not locals nor visitors. The heat alone demanded a minimum of clothing.

There he was again—just a glimpse of him crossing the open space between the amenities block and the cafe. His head was turned back towards the car park, making it impossible to identify him, but the suit said a lot to Christabel.

This was someone unprepared for the tropical climate.

Someone in too big a hurry to change his attire.

Someone who was heading purposefully for the caravan park that adjoined the beach area.

And
Alicia
had gone back to the caravan to fetch cans of cold drinks!

Sheer panic drove Christabel's legs to wade through the water in frantic haste. She ran through the shallows and along the damp sand, which gave her firmer footing until she could reach the rocky outcrop that led up to the camping reserve. If it was
one of them
, come to get Alicia, come to snatch her back to that other life…

No-o-o-o!

Christabel's mind burnt with fierce resolution as she leapt from rock to rock, every muscle tensing as she raced to fight for her daughter, determined on keeping her free from the nightmare world the money men would insist on constructing and maintaining. She would not let them take Alicia back to Europe. Never! Her daughter was safe
here
. If they'd just leave them alone…let them lead a normal life…

Onto the grassy bank of the reserve, her heart pumping, feet pounding, her long wet hair whipping around her. People she'd come to know from neighbouring caravans called out, startled by her hurtling haste, but she couldn't pause, couldn't reply. First and foremost she had to reach Alicia before the man in the suit found her. Did he know where to look, which caravan they lived in? She couldn't see him but he had to be here somewhere.

Close now…she put on a last spurt, jumping over tent ropes and pegs, finally rounding the back of her van and…stopping dead.

He was there—the man in the suit—talking to her daughter, but he wasn't one of them.

It was Jared—her employer here in Broome, Jared King—nothing whatsoever to do with
them
!

And if she acknowledged the deep down truth, he was the main reason she'd stayed in this place, longer than she should have.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning over her obvious state of agitation.

She leant against the side of the van, shaky with relief, one hand pressed to her wildly thumping heart, the other raking back the wet tangle of hair from her face. The dark, waist-length tresses undoubtedly looked like straggling ropes, the usual flow of waves in horrible kinks. It was embarrassing, having him see her like this, ungroomed, hopelessly discomposed and too nakedly vulnerable to successfully hide what had to stay hidden.

“Why were you running, Mummy?”

Having caught her breath, Christabel aimed what she hoped was a reassuring smile at her five-year-old daughter. “I thought you'd got lost.”

Alicia huffed her indignation. “As if I would.”

There she was, a delightful imp of a child, her lovely little face framed by a halo of brown curls, no fear at all in the big amber eyes, no shadow of repression hanging over her. Christabel was amazed at the happy self-assurance her daughter had developed here, in this Broome caravan park, and she was deeply grateful it was still in place.

“You were gone a long time and I was dying for a drink,” Christabel offered in appeasement, conscious that Jared King was studying her quizzically and wishing he hadn't witnessed her fear. He was disturbingly perceptive at times and she simply couldn't afford to give too much away. Once people knew who she was, who her daughter was, everything changed.

“I've got them, see?” Alicia held up a string bag containing two cans of drinks. “I was on my way back…”

“I guess I should apologise for delaying her,” Jared chimed in, holding up the can in his hand. “Alicia very kindly got me a cold drink, too.”

“Why are you wearing a suit?” The accusatory words shot out of Christabel's mouth before she could stop them.

Another quizzical, more weighing look from Jared. In fact, his coat was off now, slung over one shoulder, and he'd loosened his tie and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The strong raw maleness that seemed to emanate from all three King brothers was coming at her in waves, making her acutely aware of being a woman.

“I mean it's so hot,” she gabbled. “Ridiculous to be walking around dressed like that. No wonder you wanted a drink.”

A slow, ironic smile. “I must admit I'd rather be in a swim-suit.” His eyes gliding over her appreciatively.

It wasn't a leer. Jared King wasn't the leering type. But she could feel his pleasure in seeing her like this, every curve hugged and outlined by the sleek yellow maillot, still wet from her swim, and his pleasure always did funny things to her, evoking a foolish happiness that muddled her mind and stirring physical reactions that left her miserably unsettled.

Her breasts were tingling right now, a shivery excitement running up and down her spine, her stomach turning mushy. If only he wasn't so handsome, so insidiously attractive to her in so many ways…

“Actually, I was driving home from the airport,” he went on.

Of course! He was due home from his business trip to Hong Kong. She just hadn't connected the suit to Jared, but he would wear one to deal with the Chinese, commanding their respect on all levels. The pearl King, they called him, because he headed the pearling industry his family owned, but secretly Christabel had dubbed him the pleasure King. It was something in his eyes, a warm, caressing sensuality…

“Then I remembered my mother was away…”

His mother—Elizabeth King, of the sharp intelligence and shrewd judgment, a woman who'd lived too much and seen too much for Christabel to ever feel comfortable in her company.

“…no-one to talk to, wind down with…”

Making himself sound lonely, but there was never any need for Jared King to be lonely, not a man like him. Or was he subtly tapping at her loneliness?

“…and I wondered if you might like to share my dinner and hear about your designs, the ones I took with me to Hong Kong.”

His smile held a whimsical appeal, and there was a mocking challenge in his eyes over the bait he attached to the personal invitation. He didn't believe it would make any difference, but since she'd consistently refused to be with him in anything but a business situation, he was trying that angle…just to see her response to it.

“Did they like my jewellery?” she asked, feeling a surge of pride in the designs Jared had given her a free hand to create, and unable to deny her curiosity was piqued.

“Dinner?”

So tempting…strange how a man who always moved with such graceful elegance could exude so much male animal sexuality. He was tall and beautifully proportioned. His almost black hair tended to droop in a soft endearing wave over his forehead, but there was nothing really soft about his strongly boned face, except his rather full lower lip, lending his mouth the same sensual look she often caught in his dark brown eyes…eyes that were simmering at her now with promises of pleasure.

Christabel scooped in a deep breath, wishing she could indulge the desires he stirred in her. “No doubt you'll tell me everything at work tomorrow,” she answered flatly.

“I was hoping for a pleasant evening together.”

The tug to accept what he offered was stronger than ever. But he would want too much, she told herself for the umpteenth time. Jared King was not the kind of man who would ever settle for less than everything he aimed for. Behind his quiet, affable demeanor was a will of steel she'd sensed many times.

“Vikki Chan invariably cooks a splendid homecoming dinner for me,” he remarked persuasively, dropping in the fact that his Chinese housekeeper would be in the house—the sense of a chaperone. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it. In fact, her steamed fish is superb, well worth tasting.”

Food wasn't the point, and he knew it.

“I like Chinese cooking,” Alicia piped up.

Jared instantly dropped her a charming smile. “What's your favourite dish?”

“Honey prawns,” came the decisive reply.

“Very tasty,” he agreed with relish. “I'm sure Vikki would do some for you if your mother would like to bring you with her to my place for dinner this evening.”

That was a hit below the belt, involving her daughter directly in the invitation. He'd never done it before and Christabel churned with resentment at the unfair ploy as both of them turned their gaze expectantly to her, Alicia's expression artlessly pleased at the promise of a treat.

“Can we go, Mummy?”

“I don't think so,” she answered tersely.

The curt refusal bewildered her daughter, prompting the question, “Why not?”

“Yes…why not?” Jared echoed, maintaining a pleasantly invitational tone.

Christabel glared at him, hating the dilemma he put her in. “Alicia eats early. She's in bed at eight o'clock.”

“No problem.” He glanced at his watch. “It's almost five now. If you come at six…”

“Stop it, Jared!” she burst out.

Slowly he raised his gaze to hers again and there was nothing the least bit affable in his eyes. They burned with the need to rip away every barrier she put up between them. They seared her soul with a truth she could not deny, the sure knowledge of the attraction she felt…the same attraction he felt.

“Some things can't be stopped, Christabel,” he said quietly.

And she had no answer to that starkly honest statement.

Tension gripped her entire body as she fought the deeply personal needs he evoked. She wanted this man. She wanted to experience all of him so badly, it was like being torn in two, the rational part of her mind insisting an intimate involvement with him would spill over to an attachment with Alicia and the money men would never allow it, not in the long run, so it could only end in wretched torment.

Jared made one of his graceful gestures, the long artistic fingers opening in a curve of giving as he softly added, “Of course, the choice is yours.”

What would it be like to have those fingers caressing her, making her feel loved and cherished and precious to him? Her stomach clenched in a savage desire to know how it would be…the pleasure King making love to her…to have this, just for herself, for at least a little time. Her heart drummed a vehement plea to make
her own choice
—a choice that shut out every other factor that had ruled her life for so many years.

“I'd like to go, Mummy.”

And why shouldn't she? Christabel thought fiercely, looking at her daughter with an aching well of love. Why shouldn't Alicia enjoy the company of a man who didn't see her as a pawn in a monstrous web of greed? To add something more normal to their life here in Broome…why not?

“Then we shall go,” she answered decisively, defying all the gremlins that rode on her shoulders.

Alicia clapped her hands in delight and lifted a gleeful face to Jared. “Honey prawns,” she archly reminded him.

He laughed at her, his whole body visibly relaxing as he assured her, “I never go back on promises. Honey prawns there shall be.”

“And chocolate chip ice-cream?”

“Alicia!” Christabel chided.

“I was just asking, Mummy,” came the hasty justification.

“You know it's not good manners.”

A doleful sigh. “Sorry.”

Christabel sighed, too, afraid she was committing an act of utter madness on an impulse she would inevitably regret, yet when she lifted her gaze to Jared's and saw the happy warmth in his eyes, she couldn't bring herself to care about the consequences of her decision.