Passion's Mistress (11 page)

driving this year.'

His eyes narrowed fractionally, and the edges of his mouth curved with

cynicism. 'That wasn't the reason I chose it.'

'No?' Her faint smile was tinged with mockery. 'It does, however, fit the

required image.'

'And what is that, Carly?' Stefano pursued with dangerous softness.

'You're a very successful man,' she returned solemnly, 'who has to be seen to

surround himself with the trappings of success.' She lifted an expressive

hand and effected an encompassing gesture. 'This house, the cars. Even the

women who grace a part of your life.'

His eyes locked with hers, and she suppressed a faint shivery sensation at the

dark implacability evident.

'You know nothing of the women in my life.'

It was like a knife twisting deep inside her heart, and she fought visibly to

contain the pain. She even managed to dredge up a smile as his eyes seared

hers, dark, brooding, and infinitely hard.

Carly felt as if she couldn't breathe, and the beat of her heart seemed to thud

right through her chest, fast-paced and deafening in its intensity. She wanted

to escape—from the room, the man, the
house.
Except that she had to stay.

For a while, at least. Until Ann-Marie was fully recovered. Then...

'The coffee is ready.'

His voice intruded, and she turned blindly towards the coffee-machine. Dear

God, she doubted her ability to walk the few paces necessary and calmly

pour the brew into cups, let alone drink from one. She'd probably scald her

mouth, or drop the cup. Maybe both.

'I no longer feel like any,' she managed in a voice that sounded indistinct and

far removed from her own.

'Add a dash of brandy, and cream,' Stefano ordered steadily. 'It will help you

sleep.

She opened her mouth to respond, only to have him pursue with dangerous

softness, 'Don't argue.'

'I'm not arguing!'

'Then stop wasting energy on being so stubbornly determined to oppose me.'

'You must know how much I hate being here,' she flung with restrained

anger. She was so infuriated that it took every ounce of control not to lash

out at him.

'Almost as much as you hate me,' Stefano drawled imperturbably as he

moved to pour the coffee, then he added brandy and cream to both cups.

'You have no intention of making things easy for me, do you?' Carly

demanded bitterly.

His eyes assumed a chilling bleakness, his features assembling into a hard,

inflexible mask. 'You're treading a mental tightrope.' He lifted a hand and

caught hold of her chin, his fingers firm and faintly cruel. 'And I'm in no

mood to play verbal games.'

'Then stop treating me like a fractious child.' It was a cry from within,

heartfelt, and more revealing than she intended.

'Start behaving like a woman and I'll respond accordingly,' he said hardly,

and flecks of fiery topaz lightened the darkness of her eyes.

'Close my mind and open my legs?' Rage bubbled to the surface and erupted

without thought to the consequence. 'Sorry, Stefano. I'm not that desperate.'

For a moment she thought he meant to strike her, and she was powerless to

escape him as hard hands curled round her arms and pulled her close.

'This time,' he ground out grimly, 'you push me too far.'

He possessed sufficient strength to do her grievous bodily harm, yet she

stood defiant, unwilling to retract or apologise for so much as a single word.

With slow deliberation he caught both her hands together, then slid one hand

beneath her head, tilting it as he impelled her forward, then his mouth was

on hers, hard and possessively demanding.

A silent scream rose and died in her throat, and she began to struggle, hating

him with all her heart as he exerted sufficient pressure to force open her

mouth, then his tongue became a pillaging destructive force that had her

silently begging him to stop.

His stance altered, and one hand splayed down over the gentle swell of her

bottom, pressing her close in against him so that the heat of his arousal was a

potent virile force that was impossible to ignore.

The invasion of her mouth didn't lessen, and she felt absorbed,

overwhelmed,
possessed
by a man who would refuse anything other than her

complete capitulation.

Something snapped inside her, swamping her with anger and a need for

retribution. She began to struggle more fiercely, managing to free one hand,

which she balled into a fist to flail against his back. She clenched her jaw

against the considerable force of his, and gained a minor victory when she

managed to capture his tongue with her teeth.

Not enough to inflict any damage, but sufficient to cause him to still

fractionally, then he was free, but only momentarily, for he lifted her

effortlessly over one shoulder and strode from the room.

'You bastard,' Carly hissed vehemently as she pummelled her fists against

the hard muscles of his back. Tut me down, damn you!'

She fought so hard that she lost all sense of direction, and it wasn't until he

began to ascend the central staircase that she began to feel afraid. Her

struggles intensified, without success, and several seconds later she heard

the solid clunking sound of the bedroom door as it closed behind them, then

without ceremony she was lowered down to her feet.

Defiance blazed from her expressive features as she met his hardened gaze,

and despite their compelling intensity she refused to bow down to fear. Her

mouth felt violated, her tongue sore, the delicate tissues grazed and swollen.

Even her throat ached, and her jaw.

'If it weren't for Ann-Marie...' She trailed to a halt, too incensed to continue.

'Precisely,' Stefano agreed succinctly. His implication was intentional, and

she burst into voluble speech.

'You're so damned
ruthless
,' Carly accused vengefully. 'You dominate

everything,
everyone.
I can't wait to be free of you.'

He went completely still, and she was vividly reminded of a superb jungle

animal she'd viewed on a television documentary; of the encapsulated

moment when every muscle in his body had tensed prior to the fatal spring

that captured and annihilated his prey. Stefano looked just as dangerous,

portraying the same degree of leashed violence.

'You believe our reconciliation to be temporary?' he queried in a voice that

sounded like the finest silk being torn asunder.

She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it. 'When Ann-Marie is

completely recovered, I intend to file for divorce.'

His eyes lanced hers, killing in their intensity. 'You honestly believe I'd

allow you to attempt to take her away from me?'

'Dear lord in heaven!' Carly breathed shakily. 'Who do you think you are?

God?'

He was silent for so long that she thought he didn't mean to answer, then he

drawled with deliberate softness, 'I have the power to hound you through

every lawcourt in the country for whatever reason I choose to nominate.'

She felt sickened, and
raw
with immeasurable pain. 'Are you so bent on

revenge that you'd punish yourself as well as me?'

His eyes raked her slim frame. 'Punish? Aren't you being overly fanciful?'

'Angelica Agnelli. I imagine she still--' She paused fractionally, then

continued with deliberate emphasis, '
Liaises
with you?'

His voice was tensile steel, and just as dangerous. 'In a professional

capacity—yes.'

'And is she still based in Perth?' Carly pursued unrepentantly. 'Or has she

also moved to Sydney?'

'Sydney.'

'I see,' she said dully, and wondered at her own stupidity in querying if the

relationship between Stefano and Angelica still existed. It hadn't ceased and

probably never would.

'Do you?' Stefano queried, and she smiled with infinite sadness, all the fight

in her suddenly gone.

'Oh, yes,' she assented wearily. 'I was way out of my league right from the

beginning/

'You should have stayed and fought the battle/ He sounded impossibly

cynical, and- it rankled unbearably.

'I tried.' Dear lord, how she'd tried. But one battle didn't win the war, as she

had discovered to her cost. Carly tilted her head at a proud angle. 'Being

figuratively savaged by a female predator held no appeal. I much preferred

to retreat with dignity.' Her eyes were remarkably clear. 'Besides, it's

impossible to lose what you never had.'

'I willingly slid a ring on your finger, and pledged my devotion.' His voice

held a soft drawling quality that sent shivers scudding down the length of her

spine. 'Was your faith in me so lacking that there was no room for trust?'

The entire conversation had undergone a remarkable change, and she wasn't

comfortable with its passage. 'That was a long time ago,' she responded

slowly, aware of the tug at her heartstrings, the ecstasy as much as the agony

of having loved him. 'Your concept of marriage was different from mine.'

'You're so sure of that?'

A lump rose unbidden in her throat—she doubted her voice could surmount

it—and a great weariness settled down on to her young shoulders, making

her feel suddenly tired.

'If you don't mind, I'd like to shower and go to bed.'

'Enjoy your solitude,
cara
,' Stefano told her with soft mockery. 'I have a few

international calls to make.' His expression was veiled, making it impossible

to detect his mood, and she watched as he walked to the door, then he turned

towards her.

'Incidentally, I've located a reputable breeder who will deliver Ann-Marie's

poodle late tomorrow afternoon.' He paused, a faint smile tugging his lips at

her surprise. 'A house-trained young female, black, with impeccable

manners, who answers to Françoise. I'll see that I'm home to ensure she has a

proper introduction to Prince.'

He opened the door, then closed it quietly behind him before Carly had a

chance to say so much as a word.

He was an enigma, she decided as she became caught up in a maelstrom of

contrary emotions. There was a sense of unresolved hostility, an inner need

that bordered on obsession, to get beneath his skin and test the strength of his

anger.

Or his passion, her subconscious mind taunted mercilessly. Wasn't that what

she really wanted?

No.
The silent scream rose in her throat, threatening, agonising in its

intensity, and she gazed sightlessly around the room for several seconds as

she attempted to focus on something—anything— that would rationalise her

feelings.

All she could see were the two pieces of furniture that totally dominated the

large room. Two queensize beds, each expensively quilted in delicately

muted matching colours that complemented the suite's elegant furnishings.

A leisurely shower would surely ease some of her emotional tension, she

rationalised as she stripped off her outer clothes, wound the length of her

hair into a knot atop her head, and stepped beneath the therapeutic warm

spray.

Ten minutes later she stood before the mirror clad in a towelling robe, her

hair brushed and confined into a single braid. Her features were too pale, she

decided, and with a slight shrug she transferred her gaze to the opulence of

her surroundings.

It provided an all too vivid reminder of another house, in another city, and

another time. Then, she'd followed her heart, so totally enthralled with the

man she had married that every hour apart from him was an agonising

torment.

In those days she'd behaved like a love-crazed fool, she reflected a trifle

grimly. So young, so incredibly naive,
aching
all day for the evening hours

she could spend in his arms.

Beautiful, soul-shaking hours filled with a love- making so incredibly

passionate that she would often wake trembling at the thought that she might

lose him and have it end.

Carly studied her reflection, seeing the subtle changes seven years had

wrought. Her eyes lacked the luminescent lustre of love, and held an elusive

quality that bore evidence of a maturity gained from the responsibility of

caring emotionally and financially for herself and her child. Any hint of

naivete had long since departed, and there was an inherent strength apparent,

an inner determination to succeed. There was also pain, buried so deep

within her that she rarely allowed it to emerge.

Now she had to fight against the memories that rose hauntingly to the

surface, each one a separate entity jealously guarded like a rare and precious

jewel.

If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that seven years had never

passed, that any moment Stefano would step behind her and slowly,

erotically tease her tender nape with a trail of lingering kisses, then gently