Her Guilty Secret Part 8

Her efforts to reason with him didn't please him, however, they annoyed him. For G.o.d's sake, she was behaving as if he'd stepped out of line and it was up to her to rap his knuckles and send him back. Did she really think he was deceived by her pathetic attempts to appear sophisticated?

If she'd had any sense, she'd never have left her seat.

'You know what I think?' he drawled now as she came up against the bookshelves. She'd been so intent on putting some distance between them that she hadn't realised she'd backed into a corner. 'I think you are afraid of me, Miss Hughes.' He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek with a carefully controlled finger. 'Don't be. I'm not half as dangerous as I look.'

She tilted her head away from his hand. 'I don't think you are dangerous,' she retorted recklessly. 'I think you're rather sad, if you want the truth. You've lost your wife; you've lost your child; you've lost your reputation. Why should I be afraid of someone who's just given up?'

'd.a.m.n you, I haven't given up!' Her words caught him on the raw, and he was furious with her for saying them. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed her shoulders in a savage grasp. 'You know nothing about me,' he snarled, forgetting that just minutes before he'd maintained the opposite. 'I should break your b.l.o.o.d.y neck for that remark!'

It wasn't until the words were out that he realised what he was saying, that she was bound to a.s.sociate the threat with his wife's death. She probably thought he was capable of anything if he could lose his temper so easily, and Pamela had done a h.e.l.l of a lot more than provoke him about his life.

But, by then, it was too late. Too late to withdraw his careless words; too late to wish he'd never started this; too late to ignore the woman beneath his hands. She was so warm, so feminine, so everything he'd been trying to shut out of his mind since she'd walked into his house, and, ignoring her stunned expression, he pulled her into his arms.

It was a mistake; a big mistake. He knew that as soon as he felt her yielding body against his own. Looking down into her wide, dilated eyes, he knew she was incapable of fighting him and although her fists were balled against his midriff it was a token gesture at best.

'I have not given up,' he repeated harshly, making one last attempt to bring some sanity into the situation, but she only shook her head. Whether she believed him or not, she expected him to exercise some restraint, but Alex found he couldn't let her go.

Instead, he bent his head to brush the pale curls of hair that nestled at her temples with his lips.

She had secured her hair in a braid today, probably to try and impress the head teacher at Joanne's school with her severity, but several unruly strands had broken free and now cl.u.s.tered about her face. Her hair was soft and tasted of her skin and his senses spun in dizzying circles. He knew it was becoming impossible to let her go without tasting the dewy softness of her mouth.

He thought she sensed what he was going to do before he did it. Which was why her lips were pressed so tightly together when he sought her mouth with his. She was determined not to give into him, even though he could feel her trembling, and he despised himself for frightening her this way.

But he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Some inner hunger was driving him on, and with one arm lodged securely about her waist he brought his free hand to her face.

His thumb brushed her clamped lips, feeling their instinctive stiffening at the intimate caress. The tips of his fingers probed her ear, finding the sensitive hollow beneath the soft lobe, registering her rapidly beating pulse. She was all woman, all warmth, all sanity, and he wouldn't have been human if he hadn't been aware of it, and of the desire he had to make her respond to him in return.

When his thumb found the curve of her chin and tilted her face up to his, he could see the raw uncertainty in her expression, and it drove him on. Although she said nothing to encourage him, he sensed that she was weakening, and he wanted her to tell him how she felt.

'You don't hate me, do you, Kate?' he asked roughly, bringing his other hand to cup her face between his palms. 'Believe me, I won't hurt you.'

'Won't you?'

There was still a trace of doubt in her voice, but her parted lips were too much of an invitation for him to resist. She was in his arms, he wanted her, and he lowered his head and fastened his mouth to hers.

Alex's head swam. It was heaven and it was h.e.l.l. Heaven in the sensuous sweetness of her lips and h.e.l.l in the knowledge that he could never have her. Why didn't she stop him? he wondered frustratedly. Why didn't she fight him with every sc.r.a.p of strength she had? He was giving her the opportunity. h.e.l.l, he was as vulnerable as a schoolboy in his present position.

But, when he permitted his tongue to slip between her teeth, it met no obvious opposition. The moist hollow of her mouth lay open to his eager a.s.sault, and his hands were not entirely steady as they slid the jacket from her shoulders and moved down her spine to clutch the slender contours of her hips.

Another mistake. When he thrust his leg between hers to bring her closer to him, he felt his hardness digging into her soft stomach. The feeling was indescribable, and he wanted desperately to ease his male arousal in her woman's body.

Her s.h.i.+rt had come free of the waistband of her skirt and his fingers sought the silky heat of her bare skin almost without his volition. His palms spread against the smooth flesh of her back before seeking a more intimate exploration. The clip of her bra was no obstacle and then, taking a shuddering breath, he allowed his thumbs to caress the undersides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe, and, releasing her mouth, he buried his hot face in the scented hollow of her neck. G.o.d, he must be crazy, he thought unsteadily. Not for the first time, he was in danger of making a complete hash of things. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

Did she realise how close to losing it he was? Perhaps she did, he mocked himself derisively.

Perhaps that was what he could see in the sensual mystery of her gaze.

The sound of the door opening behind him brought him partially to his senses. Agnes Muir, he thought bitterly. She never had learned to knock before barging in.

Straightening, he barely glanced at Kate's flushed face before swinging round to confront his housekeeper. Only it wasn't his housekeeper, he saw at once. It was Lacey Sheridan, and she was staring at him with a look of harsh contempt on her face.

'Well, well,' she said, whatever pain she might have felt quickly concealed beneath a mask of sarcasm. 'And I thought you'd have learned your lesson by now.'

'Lacey,' he groaned frustratedly, shaking his head, but before he could offer any words, whether of protest or explanation, he had to save himself as Kate brushed past him, almost knocking him over in the process.

'Excuse me,' she muttered, though he doubted she meant it, and, draping the jacket she had s.n.a.t.c.hed off the floor about her shoulders, she barrelled out into the hall.

'Kate! Wait!' he yelled, starting after her, but before he could catch up with her she had let herself out of the front door.

'I don't think the lady's interested,' remarked Lacey mockingly from behind him, curving a detaining hand over his shoulder. 'I'd advise you to let her go, darling.' And when he jerked away from her possessive touch her eyes narrowed maliciously as she added, 'You will if you want my continued support...'

CHAPTER SEVEN.

'IT'SMrs Hughes, isn't it?'

Kate had been trying to decide whether to put sausage or mince into her shopping basket when an unfamiliar voice accosted her. Or someone else, she acknowledged, glancing somewhat apprehensively around the supermarket. She turned to find Alex Kellerman's housekeeper regarding her with a mixture of wariness and doubt, and breathed a little easier when she saw there was no one else about.

'Mrs Muir.'

Kate's response a.s.sured the little woman she hadn't made a mistake, and her angular features creased into a smile. 'I thought it was you, Mrs Hughes,' she said warmly. 'I hope you're feeling better. Mr Kellerman explained how you had to rush away the other day.'

'Oh.' Kate's brain struggled to function. 'Oh, yes. I-I'm sorry about that.'

'No worries.' Mrs Muir patted her arm. 'Mrs Sheridan stayed for lunch instead. Still, it was a pity you and Mr Kellerman didn't have time to talk.'

'Oh-we talked,' murmured Kate wryly, a s.h.i.+ver at the memory of that conversation causing gooseb.u.mps down her spine. She wondered what Mrs Muir would have thought of her employer if it had been she who had interrupted them and not this Sheridan woman. 'Um-it's been nice seeing you again,' she added, hoping the diminutive Scotswoman would take the hint.

She didn't.

'You're managing all right on your own, are you? Down at the office, I mean,' she continued pleasantly. 'It was such a shame that Mr Kellerman had to go away this week. What with Sam Guthriebeing off, and all. Though I've heard he's feeling much better than he was.'

'That's good news.' Kate expelled a cautious breath. 'And-and with Ted's help I'm managing fairly well.' Ted Lowes was the head groom, and Kate suspected he knew as much about the stables as anyone, although, like Mr Guthrie, he always referred to Alex as the boss.

'Do you have time to join me for a cup of tea?' Mrs Muir suggested now, indicating the small cafe that was owned by the supermarket. And then, as if thinking better of it, she shook her head.

'Och, it's after five. You've probably got things to do.'

Kate had. Lots of things, she thought ruefully, remembering the agency's accounts, which Susie had left for her that morning. Not to mention a rebellious teenager, who had too much time and too little to do, and her mother who had taken her granddaughter's suspension very badly.

But...She hesitated. She doubted there was anyone at Jamaica Hill who knew what went on better than Mrs Muir. 'Um-I'm not in a hurry,' she protested firmly. 'Thank you for inviting me.'

With her groceries packed into two carriers and stowed in the boot of her car, Kate joined Mrs Muir in the cafe. The older woman had already been served, Kate found, and now two individual pots of tea and two scones with b.u.t.ter and jam resided on the table she'd taken in the window.

'Isn't this cosy?' asked Mrs Muir happily, pa.s.sing Kate a cup and saucer. 'I like to come in here, but I don't often have company. Since Mr Muirdied, I don't find it so easy to make friends.'

'Oh, I'm sorry.' Kate was sympathetic. 'I know how hard it can be when-when a loved one dies.'

'Well, it has been almost two years,' said her companion, making a valiant effort to dismiss it.

She started to b.u.t.ter one of the scones. 'Tell me about yourself. How long have you been married?'

'My husband's dead.' Kate had no wish to talk about herself, but she knew she couldn't get away with saying nothing. And, as Alex knew about Joanne...'I do have a daughter, however. She'll be thirteen in a couple of months.'

'Thirteen!' Mrs Muir was obviously surprised. 'Why, you don't look old enough to have a daughter that age.'

'Well, it's very nice of you to say so, but I was nineteen when she was born,' said Kate dryly.

'Really?' Mrs Muir was impressed. 'Well, they say having a family keeps you young.'

'Don't you believe it,' murmured Kate, adding milk to her cup, and Mrs Muir put a hand up to her mouth.

'Oh, my!' she exclaimed. 'Here I am, asking you to have tea, and your daughter's probably waiting for you at home.' She shook her head apologetically. 'I'm afraid I didn't think. I hope she's more patient than my Jim used to be.'

'We live with my mother,' admitted Kate reluctantly, realising she was saying more than she'd intended. And then, because Mrs Muirstill looked as if she was waiting, she said, 'My husband died in a car accident over ten years ago.'

'Oh, that's a shame.' Mrs Muir tutted. 'You must have been devastated, my dear. I hate to hear about young people getting killed. It's every parent's nightmare: burying a son or daughter.' She hesitated. 'My Jim was never the same, I know that.'

Kate's brows drew together. 'You've lost a child yourself?'

'Yes. Our son, Philip.' There were tears in Mrs Muir's eyes now, which made Kate feel even worse. She wondered if she was cut out for asking awkward questions, but the opportunity was too good to miss.

'I suppose the Wyatts must have felt that way when-when their daughter died,' she murmured carefully, and Mrs Muir pulled a tissue from her pocket.

'I can't speak for them,' she said shortly. 'I only know that they've made Mr Kellerman's life a misery. It wasn't his fault that Pamela broke her neck.'

'No.'

Kate didn't dare question her belief, but the housekeeper must have suspected that she wasn't convinced, because she went on, 'He's a good man, Mrs Hughes. He's been like a son to me. If it wasn't for him, I don't know where I'd have found the strength to go on.'

'When your husband died,' nodded Kate, but Mrs Muir wasn't finished.

'We keep each other company, Mr Kellerman and I,' she said, pus.h.i.+ng the other scone towards Kate. 'He'll get the la.s.sie back; I know he will. These things take time, that's all.'

Kate could have remarked that Alex Kellerman had had time, lots of it, but he'd apparently chosen to drown his sorrows in a bottle; but she didn't. Nevertheless, thinking of him and what he had done to her caused another p.r.i.c.kle of apprehension to ripple through her veins. What might he have done if Mrs Sheridan hadn't interrupted them? What might she have done if that sensual a.s.sault had lasted any longer? She hated to admit it, but she had been weakening, the hungry urgency of his hands on her body driving all sane thoughts out of her head...

'Eat your scone,' urged Mrs Muir now, and Kate was obliged to break off a corner and spread the crumbling cake with b.u.t.ter. But she wasn't very hungry, her thoughts of Alex Kellerman leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Not that she'd seen him since that scene in the library at Jamaica Hill. As Mrs Muir had said, he'd been away for the past couple of days, and she was grateful. She didn't know what she'd have done if she'd had to face him the following morning. She'd been tempted to send a message pleading illness, but that had seemed such a cowardly thing to do.

All the same, she was being forced to view Henry Sawyer's accusations about Alex and his wife rather less sceptically. A man who would take advantage of someone he barely knew would not quibble over starting an affair with a woman who was actually living in his house. At least, that was the way she was beginning to see it-even if some small part of her shrank from pre-judging him this way.

'Anyway, how are you settling down at the stables?' Mrs Muir asked warmly. 'I know Sam Guthrie has no complaint about your work.' And then she abruptly turned to the subject Kate was struggling hard to find a way to broach. 'It's to be hoped you stay longer than the rest.'

'The rest?' Kate was hardly aware she was crumbling the rest of the scone until Mrs Muirpointed it out to her.

'The other girls who worked for Mr Guthrie,' she continued after Kate had dropped her hands into her lap. 'Of course, they weren't like you. They were fly-by-nights, most of them. The wages were never good enough, and as soon as something more lucrative came along off they'd go.'

Kate tried not to sound too interested. 'That's a shame,' she murmured casually. 'I expect Mr Guthrie got sick of having to train new staff.'

'Ay, well, I'm not saying he's an easy man to work with,' went on the housekeeper sagely. 'And his judgement isn't always what it should be.' She grimaced. 'But even Mr Kellerman was taken in by the last woman to do your job.'

Kate hesitated. 'Wasn't she any good?'

'She was a liar,' declared Mrs Muir staunchly. 'She told Mr Kellerman her husband used to beat her, and that wasn't true. It's obvious she only said it to gain his sympathy. She wanted to get into the house, that was all. She must have been planning it all along.'

'Planning what?'

Kate couldn't help the question, but Mrs Muir took a deep breath before she said, 'I really shouldn't be discussing it. It's Mr Kellerman's business, not mine.' She paused, and smiled at her companion. 'All I will say is that I'm glad Mr Guthrie's found a decent a.s.sistant at last.'

Kate almost groaned aloud. For a few moments, she'd actually believed she was making some progress, that Mrs Muir might hold the key to everything she wanted to know. But now all she felt was frustration, and the guilty knowledge of her own deception that wouldn't go away.

'Kate! Hi! How are you? Long time, no see.'

Kate had been so sunk in depression that she hadn't noticed the woman who had come up to their table and she was immediately reminded that there were worse things than losing out on a hot lead. Marian Garvey was someone she'd known while she was at university, someone who'd known she was working with her father, and who might conceivably blow her cover.

But, to her relief, Mrs Muir seemed grateful for the interruption. Perhaps she'd decided she'd said more than she should, Kate reflected ruefully. In any event, when Kate returned the other woman's greeting, Mrs Muir gathered together her bags and got to her feet.

'I'd better be going,' she said. 'Mr Kellerman will be wondering where I've got to. Goodnight, Mrs Hughes. I've enjoyed our little chat. Perhaps we'll see one another again next week.'

Kate managed a polite rejoinder, but when Marian dropped into the seat Mrs Muir had vacated, and said, 'Aclient?' she wished she'd made an excuse to leave, too.

'Just someone I know,' she murmured, using her teacup to hide any embarra.s.sment Marian might see in her face. 'Her husband died quite recently. I was just keeping her company, that's all.'

'How charitable,' remarked Marian sardonically, regarding Kate with a faintly jaundiced eye.

'But did I hear her say Mr Kellerman? She's no relation of the notorious Alex, is she?'

'No.' Kate was defensive, but then, realising it wouldn't be wise to get into a discussion about her employer, she changed the subject. 'How are you, Marian? You're looking well.'

'Thanks.'

Marian took the compliment complacently, and in actual fact Kate had to admit that she hadn't changed a lot since their college days. She'd put on some weight, but she was fairly tall so she could carry it. However, Kate had always found her rather supercilious and far too inquisitive about other people's affairs.

'Well, I'd better be going, too,' Kate said awkwardly, hoping to avoid any further questions about herself. But when Marian stood up as well her heart sank.

'I'll come with you,' Marian declared, accompanying her to the exit. 'The store's so busy on Fridays. You can never get what you want.'

'Oh-but you haven't had your tea,' protested Kate, gesturing towards the self-service counter.