Sweet Bondage (19 page)

He responded to the invitation with a passion that was shattering in its intensity. She was wearing the lavender dress again and his right hand left her breast and dropped to her hemline. His fingers teased gently at the material before slipping underneath it to slide softly up her leg. He drew light patterns on her thigh, those tormentingly knowing fingers sliding ever higher up the slick fabric of her nylons, leaving traces of fire on the sensitized skin beneath.

At last, after heart-stopping moments in which she felt an anticipation so great that she could hardly keep herself from taking his hand and forcing it those last few inches, his finger flicked gently at the heart of her desire. She shuddered, gasped, then bit her lip in an agony of wanting. Never had she known a need so great. Then his whole strong palm closed on
her,
cupping the mound of her desire and sliding slowly back and forth. Her knees turned to water and she trembled against him, her breath rasping in her throat as he forced her ever closer to release.

A loud banging on the door brought them to their senses: A voice called out, ‘Are you all right in there?' And then, after a moment, ‘Mr. Ross, will ye not answer?'

‘It's all right, Morag. Go about your business.' To Gemma he said, ‘After the commotion, the calm is sometimes more worrying. Poor Morag probably thought that I'd murdered you.' His voice was gruff, as if he was wondering how his anger had channeled into this, but he seemed totally unaffected by the passion that still held Gemma shuddering in its grasp.

She did her dress up and attempted to smooth her hair into some kind of order. Without saying another word, his icy composure once again intact, Maxwell turned on his heel, unlocked the door and walked out of the room.

She had no option but to follow his example. She couldn't stay there forever, although she would have liked to. Goodness only knew what Morag must think, but she had to be faced sometime.

But it was Fiona's contempt she ran into first. Trust Fiona to hear everything and then complete her humiliation by staying to crow.

‘Well?'
she said, squaring her chin to the older girl.

Fiona's laugh was dry and brittle. ‘I'm sorry if I'm staring. We're simply not used to slanging matches like that. Poor Maxwell, I feel so sorry for him.'

Gemma resolved not to let Fiona draw her. All the same, she couldn't have been thinking straight because it was absurdly ill-timed to say, ‘I borrowed some of your things to wear at Iola. I hope you don't mind too much.'

‘Some things I don't mind your borrowing, and my clothes fit that category.' The implication was, my clothes but not my man. ‘They must have looked ludicrous on you. You hardly match up to me . . . in height,' she said, so belatedly that she might as well have left that addition off.

‘I don't match up to you, period,' Gemma replied.

Fiona's eyes narrowed and glinted dangerously. ‘But it's you whom Maxwell is marrying. Why don't you say it?' she taunted.

‘I don't have to. You've just said it for me.'

‘Don't sound so damned triumphant! How can he be such a fool? There's no guarantee that the brat you're carrying is Ian's.'

‘Would you mind repeating that?' Gemma said weakly.

Fiona didn't have to repeat it. That was it, of course, the missing piece of the puzzle. Glenda was carrying a child. Ian's child?
That's
why Maxwell had asked her to marry him, not because he loved her, but to give the baby the Ross name. He only wanted to marry her to get control of the baby. No one expected the marriage to last. That's what Morag had meant when they had spoken on the subject earlier.

‘You didn't honestly think that Maxwell had asked you to marry him because he felt anything for you?' Fiona asked, tossing her head back and laughing shrilly.

‘That's enough, Miss Fiona,' Morag's voice cut in, startling Gemma, who hadn't realized she was there. It was obvious, though, that she had been listening. ‘It's wicked of you to make such an accusation. Of course it's Master Ian's bairn.'

‘Shut up, Morag, and remember your place,' Fiona said, redirecting her venom. ‘You've been shown too much leniency in this house. It's time you remembered that you're only a servant.'

Morag's head went down. She muttered something under her breath that Gemma didn't catch and shuffled off to the kitchen.

Fiona sent Gemma a last killing look and flounced off in the opposite direction.

Gemma didn't have to think about which one of them to follow, Morag, obviously. She had to get the answers from someone and Morag's account would be fair and not barbed.

Morag was slumped over the table, a
handkerchief
to her nose. Gemma lightly touched her shoulder to let her know that she was there and pulled out a companion chair for herself.

‘I'm sorry, Morag. I feel responsible. Fiona was angry with me. I'm sure she didn't mean what she said to you.'

‘T'wasn't your fault She meant it, all right That's been brewing for some time. If ever Miss Fiona becomes mistress here I'll pack my bags and be out the door like a shot out of a gun.'

‘Morag, what you said about . . . about a baby.'

‘These things happen,' Morag admitted on a sniff. ‘I'm not condemning you for that.'

‘So what are you condemning me for?'

‘Need you ask?' Morag questioned in shocked indignation. ‘Abortion—that's a word we never heard used in my day, praise be—is against the preaching of our good Lord. How you could even consider such a thing is beyond my ken! Of course, I know it's what your father wanted,' she said, wringing her hands in distress. ‘And with Master Ian, God rest his soul, not able to stand by your side, I can see how easy it must have been for you to fall under your father's influence. But that's no excuse for the sin you intended. Mr. Ross had to do something to prevent such a wicked deed, a transgression against everything that's decent and honorable. The blood in me boils
just
to think about it.'

A strangled gasp came from Gemma's lips. ‘So . . . Maxwell abducted me and took me to Iola, a place so remote that I'd no chance of escaping from it, not to be there when, if, Ian came round, but . . . until it was too late to have the abortion? Is that what you're saying, Morag?'

‘Aye, lassie. This bairn is sorely wanted. It will ease a lot of pain.'

‘Oh . . . Morag,' she despaired, shaking her head to rid it of the confusion this new turn-up had wrought, trying to think. ‘Where is Maxwell? Did you see where he went when he came out of his study?'

‘Up the stairs to his room, I should imagine. But there's no telling whether he's still there now.'

But he was. He opened the door to her impatient knock, positioning himself to bar her entry into the room. ‘Well? What do you want?' he demanded.

‘To come in, please,' she said, shivering, but not letting his icy countenance put her off. Nothing must put her off. This time she must convince him.

Grudgingly he stood aside. She walked past him, into the room, and waited until he'd closed the door.

‘Thank you, Maxwell.' She didn't know how to start and she just blurted out what she had been saying all along. ‘I'm not Glenda.'

‘Oh,
no!'

She sighed. ‘Will you please admit the possibility that I might be telling the truth? We need a starting point to talk from. It's vital that we talk this out.'

‘I'll go along with that,' he said harshly. ‘Talk.'

Not very confidence inspiring, but better than nothing, if only just. ‘Fiona let something slip which I knew nothing about and Morag confirmed it. I didn't know that Glenda was pregnant.'

For a moment she thought he was going to laugh in her face, and it wouldn't have been pleasant laughter, that was for sure. But then he said, ‘All right. We'll play it your way. We'll pretend that you aren't Glenda and that this is all new to you.'

‘I am not Glenda; it is all new to me. Please, cut the mockery and explain the facts.'

His eyes narrowed, but he did just that ‘Even before he knew about the baby, Ian wanted to marry—' fractional pause
‘Glenda,'
he said with a meaningful emphasis she could have done without. ‘He was over the moon when she told him. As far as he was concerned, it just brought the wedding date forward.'

‘But Glenda wasn't so thrilled, I take it?'

‘It would be fairer to say that Clifford Channing wasn't pleased. He didn't want Ian for a son-in-law and suggested a way out of her
.
. . er . . . difficulties. Ian was going to see him, to try to reason with him, when he crashed his car. And even you, no matter who you insist you are, know the outcome of that.'

‘I'm sorry, Maxwell, truly sorry for bringing the pain of your brother's death back. With Ian in hospital, Glenda would have felt lost. It would have been natural for her to turn to her father. So the abortion was his idea—yes?'

‘Yes. He'd even got as far as booking her into a very expensive clinic. I received a panic letter from . . . from
her,'
he said with great difficulty, as if he thought he should be saying from
you.
‘Although we'd never met, as Ian's brother she felt that I was the obvious person to approach for help. She didn't want to be pressured into doing something she could later regret I got her on the phone straight away and told her that abortion was out of the question. I said I would take her away—to a place where she would be free of her father's authority and the bad influence he was having on her, somewhere he would never find her. Although she agreed, and even suggested a point where it would be convenient for me to pick her up, I sensed a certain reluctance.'

‘I should think so!' Gemma said, flying to Glenda's defense. ‘What sort of escape would that be? She'd just be swapping one dominant power for another.' One bully for another, she might just as well have said.

‘That's ridiculous! I was out to help her.'

‘In
his own way, so was her father, even though what he wanted her to do was wrong. And so,' she said, changing to a meditative tone, ‘I came along driving Glenda's car and you quite naturally thought I was Glenda and that I was keeping the appointment'

‘When you started to object I assumed you'd changed your mind about coming with me. It was something I'd half expected anyway. You were carrying my brother's child, and no way was I going to let you get rid of it. With or without your permission, I was taking you somewhere beyond your father's reach. I'd already set the wheels in motion to take you to Iola. Angus had that side of the operation in hand—opening up the house and laying in provisions. I saw no reason for a change of plan where that was concerned, because I reckoned it would be the last place your father would look for you. I intended to keep you there until it was medically impossible for you to have an abortion.'

With a dull little ache she realized that he had gone back to thinking of her as Glenda. ‘It must be as you assumed. Glenda apparently did change her mind. She was acting very strangely when we met up in the cafe. I remember that she said it should be her decision. She was most insistent about that. I didn't know what she was talking about at the time, but now it all fits in. Glenda must have known that you wouldn't let her change her
mind
about going into hiding, so she fobbed me off on you in her place. It could have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, arrived at when she passed me on the road into Ashford that morning. She'd have known it was my day off because it was later than my normal time for going to work. She'd also have known my habits, that I normally park in the square on shopping days, and in a town of that size it wouldn't have been difficult to find me. She made up that phony story about having to take her car in for a minor repair job, conned me into letting her use my car and then got me to drive her car back, knowing that I'd have to pass the spot where she'd arranged to meet you to get home. The switch of handbags was something she couldn't have counted on, but it was a stroke of genius, because that convinced you that I was Glenda Channing. Nothing I said could make you think otherwise.'

‘Rather elaborate lengths to go to. If, just
if,
it was as you say, wouldn't it have been easier for her just not to turn up?'

‘Would you have let it rest at that?'

‘No, I wouldn't. I would have hunted you down.'

‘There's your answer. That's why she did what she did. She planted me in her place to get you off her back and then she went off somewhere on her own to think things out.'

‘No more play-acting, Glenda. It was a good try and I award you full marks for ingenuity,
but
you're not getting away with it, or away from me. You'll never escape me. The child you're carrying will have its rightful name. I made that vow to myself as I stood by Ian's bed.'

‘Ian . . . of course!' Ian's acceptance of her would have clinched it with him. ‘I know what you're thinking. At the hospital . . . what else could I do? Ian
didn't
recognize me; he was too heavily sedated for that. I faked it; I pretended to be Glenda. In my place anyone would have done the same, wanted to give him some peace in his last moments. But I did it for you as much as for Ian. You dragged me to his bedside. I knew it would have caused you untold distress to have presented the wrong girl. But I can't fake a baby, not even for you.'

‘If you're saying that you'd already done the deed before I picked you up, I don't believe you.' There was menace in his eyes, black cynicism in the smile on his lips. ‘You wouldn't have had time.'

‘I'm saying it isn't possible. To have a baby you've got to . . . got to have . . . Don't you understand?' she screamed at him. ‘It just isn't possible.'