One Hour to Midnight (14 page)

Poised above her he whispered her name.
 

She opened her eyes, looked up at him.

And this was what he wanted. All of her. This driving need to claim was something new. But the unfamiliar, compelling and wholly primitive urge to drive all thoughts of his brother out of her mind as he sank into her heat, was undeniable.

Hard. Deep. Then deeper still.
 

He heard her breath catch, saw her eyes widen and then languorously close in the split second before she arched to meet him and he succumbed to the sensations that obliterated every other conscious thought.

Chapter Nine

T
he room was lit with the glow of late afternoon when she stirred. She lay for several moments, her eyes closed, knowing at some subliminal level that any movement would dispel the lassitude, the sensation of safety and contentment that permeated every pore.
 

As she drowsily pondered this unfamiliar sensation, memory intruded.
 

In an instant she was wide-awake, bolt upright, clutching the sheet against her naked breasts. She glanced at Leon and found him watching her from beneath half closed lids.

"Sleep well?"

Heat scalded her face and she averted her eyes, unable to think of a single word of reply.

"Cat got your tongue?" He stretched and the sheet fell to his waist. He laced his hands behind his head, the movement rippling his chest muscles with its thatch of tight dark curls. He resembled a sleek, well fed cat.

Veronica's tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth at his potent masculinity.

How did I get trapped into this situation? How can I get to the bathroom where I can dress?

"Having second thoughts?"

Second thoughts? Try a thousand!
 

"Would you turn your back while I get out?"
 

"A little too late for that." A teasing gleam lit his grey eyes, amused by her predicament. "Give me a kiss and I'll oblige."

Dare she? Veronica hesitated, feeling raw and vulnerable. The gleam in his eyes gave her pause. Once Leon had given an ultimatum she knew he wouldn't back down. Besides, after last night what would one kiss hurt?

Before her courage deserted her, she leaned down and touched her lips to his before pulling back. For several seconds their gazes locked then Leon's hand was behind her head as he pulled her mouth towards his. This kiss was incredibly gentle, unlike any other she had ever known.

It soothed her nervousness, evening out the erratic thudding of her heart while it whispered promises to her battered soul. On its edges lurked passion, firmly held in check. Then it was over.
 

He rubbed his knuckles across her cheek in a caress so very gentle.
 

This close, she could see the fine striations of lighter colour in his deep grey eyes. "Hello, to you."

His husky murmur sent her pulse skipping madly and after a momentary hesitation she replied, "Hello."

For several fraught moments neither of them moved then his hand slid down her arm to lie on the bed.

"Go get dressed." He turned on his side, giving her the privacy she'd requested.

For several moments she stared at the tempting expanse of bare flesh his movement exposed. Swallowing hard, she turned away and slid out of bed, swiftly gathering fresh clothes from the wardrobe before escaping to the bathroom.

Once inside its sanctuary, she pressed the privacy lock and leaned against the wooden panels, her knees weak.

Becoming Leon's lover had changed everything.

How had she allowed it to happen?
 

She shared as much responsibility as Leon. One word from her and he would have stopped and their lovemaking would never have happened. But, in a moment of clear vision she knew hadn't wanted him to stop.

After those tense hours with Jordan, her need to be held and loved had bordered on desperation. It was a basic human need, an affirmation of life.
 

Leon had only responded to that need.
 

But where did they go from here?

She straightened away from the door, turning on the water and stepping straight under the icy jet without waiting for it to run warm. Soon, the cascading water wrought its soothing magic and she was capable of facing the world, and Leon.

She dressed, and running out of excuses, opened the door and exhaled sharply, disappointed when she discovered it empty. With an impatient sound she strode to the bed, flung back the covers and the musk of sex invaded her senses.

Shaken, she stripped the sheets and bundled them in the linen hamper in the bathroom. She picked up Leon's pillow and buried her face in it, inhaling the lingering traces of his body scent.
 

How will I survive now I know the delights of being loved by Leon?
 

The traitorous weakness had her tearing off the pillowslips and tossing them in with the sheets. She opened the linen press next to the cavernous wardrobe to extract clean linen.

The heady fragrance of lavender brought a rush of memory.

During her pregnancy, she'd spent many pleasurable hours with Cassie, gathering and tying bunches of lavender culled from Claremont's gardens, and hanging them to dry. Once dry, she helped make the sachets that perfumed every cupboard. Claremont and lavender were inextricably entwined in her mind.

A reminiscent smile curved her mouth as she spread clean sheets across the wide bed. How many times during the years had she fantasised about making love with Leon in lavender scented sheets?

The reality surpassed her imaginings.

She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of his arms, the erotic tenderness of his intimate caresses. Heat suffused her cheeks. Concentrating on her task, she tried to erase the images, but memory proved treacherous.

 
With deft strokes, she smoothed the antique patchwork quilt over the bed. As she did so, she wondered anew whose hands had painstakingly crafted this beautiful family heirloom. Its bright colours accentuated the aged patina of the furniture. Its solidness, the airy proportions of the room and the faded silk floor rug, gave the room a homely lived in air.

But never my home.
 

She opened the door into the sitting room, and stopped short, heart thudding erratically. Leon, freshly showered, sat I a wingback chair sipping tea, a trolley laden with food in front of him.
 

The late afternoon sun slanted through the long windows and burnished his dark hair, highlighting threads of gold and silver.

"Hungry?"

The sight of food made Veronica's stomach growl.

"Starving." She crossed to the trolley laden with delicate morsels Cassie had prepared to tempt her. She poured tea and helped herself to a plate of food then sat in the chair opposite. "How's Jordan?"

"Much improved." Leon looked at her over the top of his cup. "He's still sleeping. He's slept most of the day. He barely stirred during his radiation session."
 

"Poor little man,"
 

The relief was tangible, giving piquancy to the hearty meal. She concentrated on eating and avoiding his watchful gaze.

"When does the chemo begin?" she asked breaking the brooding silence.

"In the morning." He sat forward and put his teacup on the trolley.
 

The oncologist had explained that by mixing the two therapies, a light dose of chemo, interspersed with radiation would see Jordan better prepared for a successful bone marrow transplant.

"You'll be with him?"

"While he has chemo, but I can't be with him while he has the radiation." He placed his empty teacup on the trolley. "Veronica, we have to talk."

She pushed her plate aside knowing this discussion was inevitable, but dreading it.

"I'm not about to apologise. Nor do I regret it." His quiet admission went a long way towards settling her nervousness.
 

"Me, either." How could she deny enjoying what was to her, the culmination of a dream.
Not that I'm about to admit that!
 

While Leon may not regret it, he didn't look overjoyed either. Watching him, Veronica's mouth went dry and her heart raced. Where was this leading?

"That makes this much easier." He glanced away for several moments before once more looking directly at her. "Last night is proof of just how precarious Jordan's hold on life is."

Pain and panic had raw emotion clogging her voice. "When is the transplant scheduled?"

"A week tomorrow." Leon leaned forward clasping his hands between his knees. "If the transplant takes we should see a noticeable improvement within two or three weeks."

"And if there's no improvement?"

"There will be."

Glancing at Leon, she knew if his force of will could make it so, there would be no cloud hanging over the child. A knot of anxiety curled in her chest and sweat damped the palms of her hand. Unable to bear the tension, she rose and poured herself another cup of tea, needing something to hold.

"Would you marry me, Veronica?"

She dropped the teapot, the clatter loud in the brittle silence. Taking extreme care, she set her cup down, but some of the liquid slopped over. She stared at the spreading brown stain on the white cloth before she
 
slowly turned around.
 

"I beg your pardon?"

"Will you marry me?" Leon asked bluntly.

"I thought that's what you said." She was surprised her voice worked, let alone sounded normal. "Why?"

"Insurance."

Veronica stared at him, shaking her head. Had the strain of Jordan's illness affected Leon more seriously than she'd imagined?

"I'm not crazy."
 

Heat flooded her face. Was she so transparent? "I never thought you were."

"Yes you did." His flat contradiction heightened her discomfort. "There's new technology that can almost guarantee Jordan a long-term future."

At a complete loss, she asked, "What has one got to do with the other?"

"The strain of leukaemia Jordan has means a transplant will at best give remission, at worst a mere stay," Leon informed her bluntly, "but his only chance of a complete cure is from a sibling."

"A sibling?"
She stared at Leon for long, stunned moments, her mind in free-fall.

He rose, crossed to her side, grasped her hands and held them tightly. "Marry me and have my baby, Veronica. Together, we can give Jordan a seventy-five per cent chance of a complete cure."
 

He's surely not serious?

But as she looked into his grey eyes, she knew he was serious. Anger became a slow burn.

"That's utterly immoral." Her voice rose shrilly and she yanked her hands away from his and put the width of the room between them. How could he suggest such a thing? "You want me to have a baby to be sacrificed to save Jordan?"

As apprehensive as she was about the coming week, Veronica would never consent to submit a tiny baby to such an ordeal.

"You've misunderstood." Leon crossed the space gripping her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. "What Professor Carey suggested does not hurt or upset a baby."

Stunned, Veronica jerked out of his hold and slumped into a wingback chair. "This was his suggestion?"

"He's the expert in this field."
 

She resisted the urge to squirm. "And did the good doctor suggest you seduce me last night, too?"

"Don't be a fool!" Leon's lips thinned with anger. "Let's get this straight. The new technology involves harvesting stem cells from umbilical cord blood. These cells are proven to generate healthy bone marrow and, in a very high percentage of cases, give a complete cure for the type of leukaemia Jordan has. The best results have been obtained from the cord blood of a maternal sibling, and it can be freeze frozen and stored indefinitely. There's no question of
sacrificing
a tiny baby, or causing it pain."

"I see." Anger made bile sting the back of her throat along with a sick sense of déjà vu. "A baby won't be sacrificed, but you're quite happy to see me sacrifice my life on a whim?"

"Jordan's life isn't a whim." Emotion turned Leon's eyes almost black. "And here's me thinking you would be prepared to do anything to save your child's life."

Jordan's not your child.
 

With Kathleen's acerbic words echoed. Veronica rose and walked through the French doors and onto the shaded loggia. She needed distance between her and that arrogant son-of-a-bitch.

Leon's footfalls echoed on the paving stones behind her. "Ricki?"