Passion's Mistress (6 page)

mechanically forked small portions from her plate with little real appetite.

Afterwards Ann-Marie proved an interested spectator as Carly used hot

rollers to good effect on Sarah's hair.

'Why do I feel as nervous as a teenager about to go on a first date?' Sarah

queried with wry disbelief. 'No, don't answer that.'

'All done,' Carly announced minutes later as she stepped back a pace to view

the style she'd effected with critical favour. 'You look really great,' she

assured her gently, her eyes softening with genuine feeling for her friend's

state of panic. 'Are you going to tell me his name?' she prompted with a

faintly teasing smile.

'James Hensley,' Sarah revealed. 'Surgeon, late thirties, widower, one son.

He's slightly aloof and distinguished, yet warm and easy to talk to, if that

makes sense.' Indecision, doubt and anxiety clouded her attractive features.

A deprecatory laugh merged with an audible groan of despair. 'Why am I

doing this to myself? I don't
need
the emotional aggravation!'

The intercom buzzed, and Carly reached out and caught hold of Ann-Marie's

hand. 'Have a really fantastic time,' she bade Sarah gently. 'We'll let

ourselves out.'

It was after eight before Ann-Marie fell asleep, and Carly gently closed the

storybook, then gazed at her daughter's classic features in repose. She

looked so small, so fragile. Far too young to have to undergo extensive

surgery. Her beautiful hair

A lump rose in Carly's throat, a painful constriction she had difficulty in

swallowing. It wasn't fair.
Life
wasn't fair. Dammit, she wouldn't cry. Tears

were for the weak, and she had to be strong. For both of them. At least her

daughter would have the best medical attention money could buy, she

consoled herself fiercely.

Carly remained seated in the chair beside Ann- Marie's bed for a long time

before she stirred herself sufficiently to leave the room, and after carefully

closing the door she crossed the lounge to the phone.

Twenty minutes later she slowly replaced the receiver. With a sinking heart

she attempted to cometo terms with the fact that any claim for custody by

Stefano could succeed. Sole custody was not a consideration unless he could

prove indisputably that Carly was an unfit mother. However, he could insist

on joint custody—alternate weekends, half of each school holiday—and be

granted any reasonable request for access.

On that premise, Carly was sufficiently intelligent to be aware of what

would happen if she contested his claim in a court of law, or what emphasis

his lawyer would place on her decision to leave Stefano in ignorance of

Ann-Marie's existence.

She closed her eyes, almost able to hear the damning words uttered with

appropriate dramatic inflexion. The moral issue would be played out with

stunning effect. With the added weight of Stefano's wealth, she wouldn't

stand a chance of him being refused custody.

Without conscious thought she sank into a nearby chair in despair. Dear

God, she agonised shakily. How could she do that to her daughter?

Ann-Marie would be pulled and pushed between two people who no longer

had anything in common, torn by divided loyalties, and unsure whether

either parent's affection was motivated by genuine love or a desire to hurt the

other.

In years to come Ann-Marie would understand and comprehend the truth of

her parents' relationship. But what damage would be done between now and

then? It didn't bear thinking about.

There was really no choice. None at all.

Impossibly restless, she flung herself into completing a punishing few hours

of housework, followed by a stint of ironing. At least it provided an outlet

for her nervous tension, and she tumbled wearily into bed to toss and turn far

into the early hours of the morning.

'You look—terrible,' Sarah declared with concern as Carly answered the

door shortly after eleven. 'Is Ann-Marie OK?'

'She's fine,' Carly responded with a faint smile, then winced at the increasing

pain in her head. 'She's dressing her doll in the bedroom and deciding what

she should wear to Susy's party this afternoon. Come on in, we'll have some

coffee.'

'I'll make the coffee,
and
get you something for that headache,' Sarah

insisted, suiting words to action with such admirable efficiency that Carly

found herself seated at the dining-room table nursing a hot cup of delicious

brew.

'Now, tell me what's wrong.'

Carly effected a faint shrugging gesture. 'I must be feeling my age,' she

qualified with a faint smile. 'One late night through the week, and it takes me

the next two to get over it.'

'OK,' Sarah accepted. 'So you don't want to talk. Now take these tablets.'

'Yes, Sister.'

'Don't be sassy with me, young woman. It won't work,' Sarah added with

mock-severity.

'How was your date with James?' Carly queried in an attempt to divert the

conversation away from herself.

'We had dinner, we talked, then he delivered me home.' Sarah lifted her

shoulders in a noncommittal gesture. 'It was all right, I guess.'

'That's it?' Carly looked slightly incredulous.
'All right
wraps it up?'

'OK, so he was the perfect gentleman.' Sarah's expression became pensive. 'I

was surprised, that's all.'

James was beginning to sound more astute by the minute.

'He's asked me out to dinner next Saturday evening,' Sarah informed her

quietly, and Carly applauded his perception in taking things slowly.

'He sounds nice.'

'I get the feeling he's streets ahead of me,' Sarah owned. 'Almost as if he

knows what I'm thinking and how I'll react. It's—uncanny.'

Carly sipped her coffee and attempted to ignore her headache. It would take

at least ten minutes before the pain began to ease, maybe another ten before

it retreated to a dull heaviness that would only be alleviated by rest. After

she dropped Ann- Marie at Susy's house, she'd come back and rest for an

hour.

Sarah left a short while later, and Carly headed for a long leisurely shower,

choosing to slip into tailored cotton trousers and a sleeveless top in eau-

de-Nil silk. The pale colour looked cool and refreshing, and accentuated the

deep auburn highlights of her hair and the clear honey of her skin.

Lunch was a light meal, for Ann-Marie was too excited to eat much in view

of all the prospective fare available at Susy's party.

'Ready, darling?'

Ann-Marie's small features creased into an expression of excited

anticipation, and Carly felt a tug on her heartstrings.

'Checklist time,' she bade lightly with a smile. 'Handkerchief? No

last-minute need to visit the bathroom?'

'Yes,' Ann-Marie answered, retrieving a white linen square from the pocket

of her dress. 'And I just did. Can we go now?'

'After you,' Carly grinned, sweeping her arm in the direction of the front

door.

The drive was a relatively short one, for Susy lived in a neighbouring

suburb, and in no time at all Carly brought the car to a halt behind a neat row

of several parked cars.

'We're cutting the cake at three,' Susy's mother bade with an expressive

smile. 'And I'm planning a reviving afternoon tea for the mothers at three-

thirty while Susy opens her presents. I'd love you to be here if you can.'

Carly accepted the invitation, wished Susy 'Happy Birthday', then bent

down to kiss Ann- Marie goodbye.

On returning home she garaged the car in its allotted space, sparing its

slightly dusty paintwork a faint grimace as she closed and locked the door.

Perhaps she could leave early and detour via a carwash.

The apartment seemed strangely empty, and she drifted into the kitchen to

retrieve a cool drink from the refrigerator.

The buzz of the doorbell sounded loud in the silence of the apartment, and

Carly frowned in momentary perplexity as she crossed the lounge. Sarah?

Instead, a tall, broad-shouldered, disturbingly familiar male frame filled the

doorway. The few seconds between recognition and comprehension seemed

uncommonly long as she registered his dominating presence.

'What are you doing here?'

'Whatever happened to
hello?
Stefano drawled, and his dry mocking tones

sent an icy shiver down the length of her spine.

Her eyes sparked with visible anger, dark depths of sheer mahogany, and it

irked her unbearably that she'd discarded her heeled sandals on entering the

apartment, for it put her at a distinct disadvantage.

Impossibly tall, he towered head and shoulders above her, his impeccably

tailored suit seeming incredibly formal on a day that was usually given to

informality and relaxation.

Three nights ago his presence had shocked and dismayed her. Yesterday,

she'd been momentarily numbed, grateful for the impartiality of his office.

Now, there was no visible shield, no barrier, and she felt inordinately wary.

'Aren't you going to ask me in?'

He projected a dramatic mesh of elemental ruthlessness and primitive

power, an intrinsic physical magnetism that teased her senses and rendered

them intensely vulnerable.

Her chin lifted fractionally, her eyes locking with his, and she caught the

lurking cynicism evident, almost as if he guessed the path her thoughts had

taken and was silently amused by their passage.

'What if I refuse?' Brave words, given his sheer strength and indomitable

will.

'Would you prefer an amicable discussion, or have me channel everything

through my lawyers?'

His voice was deadly quiet, and she felt the cold clutch of fear.

'This isn't a convenient time.' She was mad,
insane
to thwart him

continually, yet she was damned if she'd meekly stand aside and allow him

entry into the privacy of her apartment.

His expression hardened, the assemblage of muscle and bone tautening into

a chilling mask depicting controlled anger. 'You've just returned from

delivering our daughter to a birthday party. How long before you need to

collect her? An hour? Two?'

Sheer rage rushed to the surface, destroying any semblance of restraint.

'You've had me watched—
followed
?' Words momentarily failed her. 'You

bastard
,' she flung at last, sorely tempted to slam the door in his face, yet

even as the thought occurred to her she negated the action as not only foolish

but extremely dangerous.

For one infinitesimal second his eyes leapt with icy anger, then sharpened

and became infinitely compelling as he raked her slender frame.

A shivery sensation feathered its way down the length of her spine as she

fought against the intrinsic pull of his innate sexuality, and of its own

volition her body seemed to flare into life as if ignited by some hidden

combustible flame.

Seven years ago she'd gone willingly into his arms, his bed, and tasted every

sensual delight in a sexual discovery that had set her on fire, enraptured by

an ecstasy so acute that it hadn't seemed possible such pleasure existed. A

passionate lover, he'd teasingly dispensed with each and every one of her

inhibitions, and taught her to become so in tune with her own sensual being

that each time they made love it was a total conflagration of the senses.

To deny him access to her apartment would gain absolutely nothing, and,

drawing in a deep breath, she gathered her scattered emotions together as

she aimed for contrived politeness.

'Please,' Carly indicated as she gestured towards two sofas and a chair in the

small lounge. 'Sit down.'

Stefano chose to ignore the directive, and moved slowly across the room to

examine a large frame containing a montage of small snapshots showing

Ann-Marie in various stages of development from birth to as recently as a

month ago.

A palpable silence filled the room until it enveloped everything. A silence so

incredibly damning that it was almost tangible.

At long last he turned towards her, his eyes so remarkably dark that it was

impossible to discern anything from his expression. 'Why did you choose

not to tell me you were pregnant?' he began with deceptive softness.

Her throat felt impossibly dry, and so constricted that she doubted if her

larynx could cope with emitting so much as a sound. 'If I had, you would

have hauled me back to Perth/ she said at last.

'Indeed,' Stefano agreed. 'And I wouldn't now brand you a thief for stealing

from me the first six years of my daughter's life.'

'If you'd had sufficient respect for our marriage, I wouldn't have felt

compelled to leave,' she managed carefully. There was an inherent integrity

apparent, a strength that came from deep within.

'And rehashing the past has no relevance to Ann- Marie's future.'