Bride in Barbados (20 page)

"It's considerate of you to help Curt."

He laughed. "Consideration has little to do with it. I
wouldn't put money into anything that I didn't think was a sound
investment. But there are circumstances when it's wise to have partners
to share the risk. Curt Winston has money to invest and I think we'll
deal together well enough, particularly since I'll retain a controlling
interest."

"I don't know much about investing, I'm afraid. You may
not believe it, but it seems rather boring to me."

His cool eyes ran over her appreciatively. "No more talk
of business then. Beautiful women should never have to think about
money."

It occurred to Susan that Mala and Amii might be
speculating about what she and Jonathan were doing so long in the
sitting room alone. She had seen Mala's suspicious glance at him as
she'd shown him in. She decided it might be wiser to continue their
visit in less privacy. On the veranda the maids could see them from the back
windows, and they would be in full view of the gardener or any of the
field workers who happened by. "Why don't we go out to the veranda?
I'll ask Mala to bring us something cold to drink."

Jonathan stayed for the better part of an hour, so long
that Susan began to feel uneasy about the prospect of Travis returning
to the house and making a scene. Mala would probably tell him about
Susan's caller, anyway, but Susan preferred that Jonathan not be
present when Travis heard of it. He had made it abundantly clear that
he didn't approve of her spending time with the man, and she had little
doubt that he would say the same to Jonathan.

But finally Jonathan rose to leave and she saw him out of
the house, grateful that nothing had occurred to disrupt the
tranquility of the visit. She promised to meet him for lunch soon and
shut the door before she wiped the dampness off her face with the back
of her hand. It had been extremely warm on the veranda. She decided to
relax in a tepid bath.

Upstairs, she poured a generous amount of bath crystals
into the large, sunken tub and undressed as the rushing water rose,
creating great mounds of white bubbles.

She sank into the gardenia-scented water with along,
rapturous sigh, lowering herself until the bubbles covered her to her
shoulders and her head rested against the slanted end of the tub.
Heavenly, she decided, closing her eyes and relaxing until she felt
weightless.

She was drifting into sleep when she was jerked back to
alertness by the sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps crossing
her bedroom. Then the bathroom door flew open and Travis stood there in
his work clothes, his legs in tall, dusty boots spread almost the width
of the door.

His eyes, dark with anger, surveyed her. Susan started
into a sitting position at the sight of him, then realized that she had
almost exposed herself and sank lower in the water. A flush warmed her
cheeks. "How dare you barge in here without knocking!"

"Oh, no you don't!" he grated, walking farther into the
bathroom. "I won't be put on the defensive. What was Wicksham doing in
this house?"

So, one of the servants had told him already. She looked
up at him resentfully, feeling like a prisoner in the tub since she
couldn't get away without parading into the bedroom naked. "It was a
social call. Surely your spies told you all about it. We were on the
veranda, in plain sight."

"I've told you before, I won't have him here. What did he
want?"

"You should have had Mala tape our conversation!" she
flared. "I said it was a social call, and that's all I'm going to say.
I don't have to explain myself or my friends to you!"

"Is that a fact?" His voice was too soft suddenly, and she
darted a suspicious look at him. He was standing beside the tub now,
looking straight down at her, and she didn't like what she saw in his
eyes. His gaze never left her face as his hands began to strip off his
shirt.

"Wh-what are you doing? You can't—"

He bent and tugged off his boots, one after the other, and
then his socks, still looking at her with that dangerous fire in his
eyes. He jerked at his belt buckle, unfastening it.

Her stunned mind finally comprehended what he intended.
She hesitated another moment. The dilemma over whether to stay and be
joined by her husband or step out of the tub, exposing herself fully,
was too much for her. In that moment of hesitation, he stepped out of
his jeans, rid himself of his briefs and climbed into the tub.

Left with no other choice, she rose from the water. "Enjoy
your bath. I'm leaving." She made herself meet his bold gaze haughtily
and tried to step out. But her attempt at bravado was futile. He caught
her around the waist and hauled her against him.

"You're not going anywhere."

She was pulled back down into the water with him until,
mercifully, her nakedness was once more obscured by bubbles. But now
his body was stretched beside hers, touching her along the full length
of one side. He traced the curve of her cheek and jaw with warm, hard
fingers that then trailed down her throat and roamed over her body
beneath the water. The bubble bath made their skin slippery and his
hand slid over her like satin against satin. She felt overwhelmed by
weakness as the pleasure of his caress invaded her senses.

She made a feeble attempt to move away from him.
"No—don't—" The words were the merest suggestion of
a breathless whisper.

Almost reverently, his eyes roamed over her flushed face.
Slowly his fingers explored the outline of one breast, moving with
delightful tenderness toward the tip.

"Don't waste your breath," he said softly, his warm breath
fanning her lips as his mouth descended with maddening slowness. "I'm
listening to your body this time instead of to your words, and your
body is enjoying this immensely." His fingers had encircled the
thrusting taut-ness that proved the truth of what he said and, as he
continued to stroke, the new tenderness pushed a gasp of mingled
pleasure and pain from Susan.

His lips touched hers gently and set off a quivering
response that made her return the kiss eagerly, moving her mouth
sensuously against his. He lifted his head to look into her eyes, The
anger over Jonathan's visit was gone; his face was filled with hunger,
his eyelids heavy.

Susan could not protest, could only stare at him in
trembling uncertainty. Her body arched involuntarily as his eager hand
continued its meticulous exploration into the most secret parts of her
body, evoking a wildfire of response wherever it touched. Her drowning
brain cried that he was only using her, that he was conquering her
without a fight, but her body yearned for the feel of him, the balm for
her clamoring senses that only he could give.

His hand rested on her stomach and the sound of their
mingled breathing was rapid and harsh in the somnolent afternoon
silence.

Suddenly his hand grew still. He released her lips to look
into her face. "Your body has changed. You've gained weight." Frowning,
and with an almost clinical interest, he ran his hand over her breasts
and across her stomach again. She saw the sudden flare deep in his eyes
the instant understanding began to dawn. "You're pregnant!" His voice
was roughened by emotion. "Aren't you? Answer me, Susan!"

She closed her eyes and groaned, knowing that it was
useless to lie. "Yes," she whispered.

She felt a sudden tenseness in him. "Is Wick-sham the
father?"

Her eyes flew open in amazement. There was anger waiting
in his expression. "Jonathan has never even kissed me! Besides, I'm
almost six months along. The baby is yours, blast you! You're
absolutely vile to doubt it! Now, please—" She looked away.
"Please, let me out of here."

A laugh of pure triumph escaped him. He stood up, water
and bubbles sliding down his magnificent male body, and stepped out of
the tub. Bending, he scooped her into his arms and headed for the
bedroom, water streaming from both of them onto the carpet.

He deposited her in the middle of the bed, swept her
naked, glistening body with a masterful look and followed her down.
Then, with all the considerable powers at his command, he began to
arouse her anew with a deliberate, inexorable slowness. She closed her
eyes weakly, tears clogging her throat. This could not be happening.
She could not be uttering these little sighs of pleasure and pleading.

"Please, Travis, no," she whispered, but her ragged words
ended with a betraying sigh.

His groan was a blend of conquest and yearning. "I
couldn't stop now, even if I wanted to." The unsteady admission might
have been an apology, but it sounded more like justification. He knelt
beside her and cupped the weight of both breasts in his hands, his
thumbs gently stroking. His low chuckle brimmed with desire. Then he
bent so that his mouth could follow where his hands had been. She
writhed helplessly.

"You want this as much as I do."

A weak sound of surrender escaped her. "Say it, Susan.
Tell me that you want me. Please… I have to hear the words."

"I… want you." Then, as if the admission had
finally broken her last restraint, she clung to him, pulling his hard
body down over hers, entering the storm of their mingled passion with
him eagerly until she was filled with a wild longing so strong that she
thought she must be mad. Lost in the abandoned release of passion, she
cried out his name.

Trembling, she surfaced from the dizzying pool of desire.
Travis wrapped his arms around her, sighing heavily, and pulled her
back against him, his cheek against her hair, his arm encircling her
waist, their legs bent slightly and fitting together.

Too sated and drowsy even to think, Susan snuggled
contentedly against him and drifted into sleep.

Late afternoon shadows were long when she came slowly back
to wakefulness, confused until she recalled where she was and what had
happened.
Then self-loathing made her blush. How could she have been so weak? She
turned her head and found that she was alone in the bed. Someone had
pulled the thin cotton spread over her body. Travis?

She crept out of bed, as if she had no right there, and
dressed in a loose, yellow cotton sundress. It was one of the few
dresses she owned without a waistline and she had never particularly
liked it before. She would have to buy some maternity clothes soon, she
thought, and wondered if Kay Harte carried them. She had never believed
herself capable of deliberate cruelty, but at the moment the idea of
the woman who was carrying Travis's child buying maternity wear from
the other woman who loved him appealed to her bitter mood. She
discarded the thought that it would be striking out at Kay because she
couldn't strike at Travis —and, also, that Kay could have
been in Susan's place had she been willing to throw pride out the
window.

Had
Travis proposed to Kay first?
Susan sank down in front of her dressing table and idly picked up her
hair brush. Of course he had! He must know that Kay was in love with
him. When he had learned about the will, it must have been the first
thought to enter his mind. He'd had more respect for Kay than for
Susan, apparently, for he'd told her about the will, probably believing
that she loved him enough to marry him anyway. But she hadn't. Good for
Kay. In other circumstances, she felt that she and Kay Harte could have
become close friends.

She began to brush her hair, ashamed of her spiteful
desire to punish Kay for something that was none of her doing. Lord,
was she going to become as selfish and cynical as Violet? Not if she
could help it, and for starters she'd find somewhere other than Kay's
Boutique to buy maternity clothes.

She heard the bedroom door opening quietly and turned to
see Travis. He paused for a split second as his eyes flicked over the
rumpled bed. When he saw that she was up, he walked in. He was dressed
in cream-colored trousers and a cinnamon silk shirt, and his expression
was so complacent that Susan itched to slap him. How dare he look so
calm and pleased with himself! He was the one who should feel
embarrassed and guilty, and it maddened her that
she
was the one who felt that way.

She turned back to the mirror and continued brushing her
hair with more vigorous strokes than before. If she hadn't been so
angry, she might have noticed the hesitancy in his stance as he came to
a stop behind her or the hopeful look in his dark eyes or the tautness
of his muscles. But she was too preoccupied with her own humiliation to
see anything but his arrogance.

"Well, you missed a half day's work," she snapped. "No
doubt you'll be able to make it up later."

Travis was looking at her face where it was reflected in
the mirror, and the lines fanning out from his eyes deepened in an
amused expression. "I was occupied with more enjoyable pursuits."

Subduing a recalcitrant wife, Susan thought. She
noticed how his thick black lashes had come down to screen his look,
how the tanned skin of his face glowed with health and vitality, how
his hair molded itself so attractively to his head. Furious, she
repressed a desire to touch him. She would not be a self-effacing,
humble female.

He placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I've missed
you, darling. I can't tell you how happy you've made me this afternoon."

Of course she had! She'd told him she was carrying his
child. Wasn't that the whole point of this marriage? "I think I have a
vague idea. The baby means the inheritance is all yours—
provided I don't miscarry."

A flash of concern drew his brows together. "There aren't
any problems, are there?"

"Problems?" She uttered a brittle laugh. "Why, of course
not, Travis. Everything is hunky dory. I haven't seen a doctor, but I
assure you I'm disgustingly healthy."

"You should have seen a doctor by now. It's careless of
you not to have done so. I'll have Mala make an appointment for you
tomorrow."