Act of Possession Page 8

  Reed shifted, so the muscled weight of his body was lying half-over her, pressing her down into the cushions of the sofa. She could feel the sensuous brush of velvet at her back, where the gap her blouse had made exposed her bare midriff, and the powerful hardness of his legs against hers. His shirt was loose at the throat, and her hands moved compulsively to touch the brown skin rising above his collar. Her fingers curled instinctively into the silky hair at the back of his head, enjoying the unfamiliar intimacy, and he made a sound of pleasure as she caressed his neck.

  She didn’t understand it. Simon had kissed her; Simon had made love to her; they had even had a daughter together. Yet, she knew now, Simon had scarcely touched her deepest feelings. His fumbling overtures had often left her cold, and impatient for it to be over, and it dawned on her, with increasing certainty that what she had regarded as her own inadequacy had, in fact, been his. And had it not been for Susie, she might never have married him …

  The sudden recollection of her daughter’s existence was sobering. No matter how attractive the proposition, Reed’s intentions were no different from what Simon’s had been, and what he was doing was, if anything, more dangerous. With Simon, it had been bravado on her part, a need to prove she was as liberated as the next girl—a foolish contention, and one she had learned to regret. With Reed it was different. She wasn’t a girl any longer; she was a woman, with a woman’s needs, needs Simon had aroused, and just occasionally satisfied. Now, as Reed continued to kiss her, his lips finding the palpitating pulse at her temple, his tongue stroking the delicate contours of her ear, she was reminded of those needs, and alerted to an awareness of how pleasurable it would be to allow him to fulfil them. She would like to sleep with Reed, she realised guiltily; she would like to feel his skin against hers, without the cumbersome barrier of their clothes. And that was exactly why she had to get away from him, she acknowledged. It was years since she had taken a pill or used any other means to protect herself. At least Simon had wanted to marry her. Reed only wanted a diversion.

  ‘No!’ she said fiercely, as his hand slid down from her shoulder to touch her breast. His thumb, moving lazily over the swollen nipple already surging against the thin acrylic fibre of her blouse, halted its sensuous exploration, but his eyes were frankly disbelieving when he drew back a space to look down at her.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No,’ she repeated huskily, pushing his hand away. ‘Reed, I want to go home.’

  He drew a deep breath and gently smoothed back the slightly damp hair at her temples. ‘You want me,’ he contradicted her softly, bestowing a disturbing kiss at the corner of her mouth. ‘Just as much as I want you. Don’t tell me no. I don’t believe it.’

  Antonia sighed. ‘All right, all right,’ she said, her body trembling. ‘I—I do want you, but—but not on your terms.’

  Reed’s grey eyes narrowed. ‘And what terms are they?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Like—like this,’ she stammered, her tongue circling her lips. ‘At—at this time of night. Behind your fiancée’s back!’

  Reed drew back to support himself with a hand at either side of her. ‘Might I remind you that you dictated the time,’ he remarked narrowly. His lips tightened. ‘And as for Cee—what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her!’

  Antonia shrank from his words. ‘And that’s all that matters? That Celia shouldn’t get to know about it?’ she demanded contemptuously.

  ‘No.’ His cheeks hollowed. ‘I’m not saying it’s right—–’

  ‘What are you saying then?’ She wriggled up against the cushions until her eyes were on a level with his. ‘That you can’t help yourself?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he retorted, astounding her. Then he turned abruptly away. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll take you home. Just give me a minute to—well, to control my baser instincts.’

  Antonia hesitated, and then swung her legs to the floor and sat up beside him. She gave him a doubtful look. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Oh, fine!’ Reed gave a short mirthless laugh.

  Antonia shook her head. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  ‘I’m not a tease.’

  ‘Did I say you were?’

  ‘No, but—–’ She bent her head. ‘You implied it. I can’t help it if I’m not like the other women you deal with …’

  ‘Wait!’ Reed’s harsh ejaculation interrupted her. ‘What other women?’

  ‘Well, I assumed …’

  ‘You assumed wrong then, didn’t you?’ Reed countered grimly, getting abruptly to his feet. ‘Whatever opinion you have of my treatment of Cee, I am not in the habit of making clandestine assignations with other members of her sex. Oh, I admit I’ve been tempted, but contrary to your beliefs, I have respected my commitments. Until now.’

  Antonia stood up also. ‘Then—why? Why me?’ she asked huskily, her expression revealing her confusion, and Reed’s face hardened.

  ‘I’ve been asking myself that for the past two weeks,’ he responded, reaching for his jacket and putting it on. ‘Come on.’ He tossed her her jacket and turned towards the door. ‘Let’s go. Before I change my mind and decide to show you you’re not as strongwilled as you like to think!’

  The journey down in the lift was almost as traumatic as the journey up had been. Antonia kept her eyes averted from his lean intelligent face, knowing that if she looked at him, she might betray her feelings. She was frightened of the power he had over her, the ability he had to arouse her emotions and tug at her heart. He had been so right; she did want him, badly, and it was going to be hell to try and put him out of her mind.

  The Lamborghini soon ate up the distance between Reed’s home and the Victorian apartment building she lived in. It was nearly midnight, and the city streets were not busy, even if they were not exactly deserted. Reed drove smoothly, concentrating on the traffic there was, taking evasive action when a driver with probably an over-indulgence of alcohol in his veins swung wildly out of a side-street, and reverting to a crawl when a party of late-night revellers stepped incautiously out in front of him.

  Antonia thought he would drop her at the gate, and her hand went out protestingly when he began to turn into the drive of Eaton Lodge. ‘Don’t,’ she said, looking anxiously at his profile. ‘Someone might recognise the car. It is rather—recognisable, isn’t it?’

  ‘You can’t walk up there alone at this time of night,’ said Reed doggedly, and Antonia sighed.

  ‘Walk with me then,’ she invited softly. ‘Though I hardly think anyone is likely to attack me.’

  Reed made no response to this. He merely gave her an enigmatic look before getting out of the car, and by the time he had rescued her case from the boot, Antonia was standing beside him.

  In actual fact, she was glad he had decided to escort her up the drive. The privet hedge and the shrubs that were banked on either side were a little eerie in the darkness, and at this time of night the area was blanketed in silence. The outer door, which often, stood open in daylight, was closed, and Antonia had to find her key to open it. Then, she turned to take her case from Reed.

  ‘I—thanks,’ she murmured, reaching out her hand, and he set the bulky suitcase down beside her.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he responded tautly, his features vaguely discernible in the half-light from the street lamp a few yards away.

  ‘It—it’s goodbye then,’ she stammered, wishing he would go, and he nodded.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he amended, watching her changing expression. Then, with a groan of impatience, he bent his head. ‘I’ll call you,’ he said, his mouth finding her parted lips with devastating intimacy. ‘Sleep if you can.’ His lips twisted. ‘I won’t!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Reed! Are you listening to me?’

  He turned, as the petulant tone of his fiancée’s voice became a little shrill. ‘Yes, I’m listening,’ he assured her equably, moving away from his office window and resuming his seat behind his desk. ‘You were saying Cl
aire can’t go to Paris, because she’s discovered she’s going to have a baby.’

  ‘Well! You might show a little sympathy,’ exclaimed Celia grumpily. ‘I mean—what is she doing, getting herself pregnant! It’s not as if Paul wants to marry her. He’s far too happy running that club of his, to want to settle down to being a father!’

  ‘Do you know that?’ inquired Reed drily, trying to take an interest in the conversation. ‘Aren’t you forgetting Claire’s a bright, intelligent woman? Paul may be flattered that she wants to marry him.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know that she does,’ retorted Celia restlessly, getting up from her chair and pacing about the room. ‘She told me she’s quite prepared to become a single parent. I mean, I ask you: what are her parents going to say about that!’

  Reed shrugged, looking down at his fingers playing idly with his pen. ‘I doubt if you’d be feeling so concerned if Claire was not letting you down, too,’ he remarked flatly, his interest waning. ‘Send someone else to Paris. What about Liz?’

  Celia came back to the desk and rested her scarlet-tipped fingers on its surface. ‘Liz won’t go,’ she declared ruefully. ‘You know she hates flying, and going on her own … No, she’s out of the question.’

  ‘So—what’s the alternative?’ Reed looked up at her.

  Celia grimaced. ‘I go myself, I suppose.’

  Reed shrugged. ‘Problem solved.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Celia’s lower lip jutted. ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘No.’ Reed’s response was final. ‘I’ve already told you—–’

  ‘I know, I know. You’re going down to Stonor this weekend. But couldn’t you change your mind?’

  ‘Celia—–’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ His fiancée lifted her hands from the desk and turned their palms towards him in a gesture of submission. ‘I know you don’t like fashion shows. But really, someone has to go, and I’m afraid it’s going to have to be me.’

  ‘As I said—problem solved.’ Reed lay back in his chair and regarded her through his lashes. ‘No sweat. I can go to Stonor on my own.’

  Celia pursed her lips. ‘I was looking forward to it; us being alone for two whole days!’

  ‘Yes.’ Reed averted his eyes. ‘So was I. But there’ll be other weekends.’

  ‘Yes, there will, won’t there?’ Celia’s smile appeared. ‘After we’re married, I expect we’ll spend lots of weekends there.’

  ‘After we’re married, we’ll be living there,’ Reed reminded her tersely. ‘Or had you forgotten?’

  Celia wrinkled her nose. ‘Well—not all the time, darling.’

  ‘Stonor’s near enough to London to commute,’ Reed pointed out evenly. ‘And I don’t want my children growing up in this polluted atmosphere.’

  ‘Your children! Darling, aren’t you being just the teeniest bit premature?’ Celia uttered a light laugh. ‘Honestly, the way you talk, you’d think I was going to spend all my time breeding!’

  Reed arched his dark brows. ‘I did tell you I wanted a family, Cee.’

  ‘I know you did.’ Celia shifted beneath his steady gaze. ‘But not straight away, surely? We need some time to ourselves.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Reed lifted his shoulders. ‘We’ll wait a year.’

  ‘A year!’ Celia sounded appalled. ‘I thought—five years, at least.’

  ‘That’s too long.’

  ‘We’ll compromise.’ Celia was eager to dismiss the subject. ‘Besides, there’s absolutely no need to condemn oneself to a rural existence, just because one has a family!’

  ‘I don’t want any child of mine left for days on end in the hands of a nursemaid,’ retorted Reed curtly, aware that he was being unreasonable, but unable to prevent himself. ‘When are you leaving?’

  Celia looked sulky. ‘Is that all you have to say? You pick an argument at the most inopportune time, and then ask me when I’m leaving, as if my feelings don’t matter!’

  Reed put down the pen before it snapped between his fingers, and looked up at her again. What a bastard he was, he thought, noticing the tremulous vulnerability of her mouth and the suspicious brightness of her eyes. Dear God, what was happening to him? This was Cee; the girl he intended to marry. Why was he forcing her into a position of confrontation?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, pushing back his chair and coming round the desk towards her. ‘I’m a brute; I know. I guess I’m just a bit disappointed. About tomorrow, I mean.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, and drew her gently to him. ‘Take no notice of me. I’m feeling my age, that’s all.’

  ‘Your age!’ Celia looped her arms around his neck, and gave him a tearful smile. ‘You know that’s not true. What is it? Is Gallaghers on the brink of bankruptcy or something?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ said Reed, his lips against her cheek. ‘Put it down to simple bloody-mindedness. Now—do you want me to drive you to the airport? What time is your flight?’

  ‘The flight is at eleven-thirty,’ Celia replied, emphasising the definite article. ‘And if I go, I’ll get Daddy to take me. He’s flying off to the Common Market conference in the morning. Besides,’ she paused, ‘I know you hate driving across town in the rush-hour. Remember?’

  Reed brushed her lips with his and then let her go. ‘I remember,’ he conceded evenly. ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘Sunday night. But honestly, darling,’ Celia gurgled, ‘I’d love to have seen your face when Mrs Francis caught you knocking at Antonia’s door. I mean—she must have thought the worst!’

  Reed’s thick lashes lowered. ‘That’s not what she told you.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘No.’ Celia conceded the point. ‘She just said what you had told her: that you were delivering a message from me.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t just tell her the truth. It’s not as if Antonia is some sort of femme fatale. She surely couldn’t think you’d be interested in her.’

  His instincts were to round on her, savagely, for the patronising way she dismissed the other girl, but he held his tongue. ‘It was easier to tell her what I did, than explain that I’d forgotten you’d still be at the shop,’ he replied lightly. ‘Besides, she’d have wondered why I didn’t knock at her door first. I don’t suppose she regards herself as a nosey old witch!’

  ‘That’s because she’s not!’ protested Celia, laughing all the same. ‘And you should have knocked at her door first. I mean—you hardly know Antonia!’

  ‘I only wanted to use the bathroom, not invite myself in for refreshment!’ retorted Reed flatly. ‘I didn’t think—Antonia would mind. She seemed a pleasant girl.’

  ‘Oh, she is.’ Celia adjusted the neckline of her jacket. ‘She’s sweet. A little passé in the way she dresses, perhaps, but that’s probably because she doesn’t have a lot of money. I mean—she works at some institute, where they teach young people—skills; that sort of thing. I understand she’s not just a shorthand typist, but I doubt if she’s paid awfully well.’

  Reed walked round his desk again. ‘Do you like her?’

  ‘Like her?’ Celia sounded surprised. ‘Well—yes, I suppose so. I mean, she’s not like us, but she’s all right. We don’t have much in common. I honestly don’t know how she affords that apartment! It’s small, I know, but prices in that area …” Her voice trailed away expressively. Then, as if aware that Reed was waiting for something more, she shrugged. ‘Anyway, I don’t see much of her. I only asked her to the party because I felt sorry for her! And Liz thought I was mad to do it.’ She grimaced. ‘Actually though, I think that was because Gerry Stockwell seemed so taken with her. Antonia, I mean. Liz was livid!’

  Reed pushed his hands into his pockets. ‘Stockwell?’ he echoed quietly. ‘Who is Gerry Stockwell?’

  ‘You know!’ Celia fluffed her hair with delicate fingers. ‘His father’s in steel, or aluminium, something like that. Gerry’s the eldest son, heir to the family fortune, that sort of thing. Liz says he’ll inherit a title one day. An
yway, she’s been trying to get her claws into him for months, and it was pretty galling when he stood and chatted to Antonia for the best part of an hour.’

  ‘As I recall it, she was speaking to several men at once,’ Reed remarked levelly. ‘No one in particular.’

  ‘No—well, that’s true.’ Celia outlined her lips with her little finger. ‘I mean—you spoke to her yourself, didn’t you? Before I realised she was there.’

  ‘No one else was doing so, at that time,’ observed Reed drily, flicking back his cuff. Then he drew his features into a polite expression of dismay. ‘Heavens, it’s nearly five o’clock! Mrs Drysdale will be having fits. I haven’t even looked at the letters yet.’

  ‘Oh, aren’t you free to go?’ Celia looked disappointed. ‘I thought you were going to drive me home’

  Reed stifled the impulse to refuse point-blank, and made a compromise. ‘If you can hang about for another half-hour,’ he offered. ‘Don’t you have to go back to the shop?’

  ‘No. I told Liz I’d go straight home.’ Celia sighed. ‘Oh, all right. I’ll just pop out for a few minutes. There are one or two things I need from the chemist, and that will give you time to sign your letters.’

  But after she had gone, Reed did not immediately summon his secretary into the office. Instead, he went to stand by the window—where he seemed to be spending too much time lately, he reflected sourly—and considered the idea, which had entered his head and refused to be dislodged.

  The notion of taking Antonia to Stonor with him was a reckless one, he knew. His staff, at his house in Oxfordshire, were trustworthy enough, but he could hardly bring a strange young woman into his home without arousing some comment. It had been different at the apartment. For one thing, Maria had not known who he was asking her to prepare supper for, and even if she had, he acknowledged, she would not have demurred. Maria did not care for Celia. His fiancée’s decidedly patronising attitude with people she did not consider her social equal, did not wear well with the German woman, and Maria had already made it clear that she would not be staying on after they were married. Which was a pity, Reed thought, who had known Maria since he was a child at home in Ireland. In those days, she had worked at his family’s house in County Wicklow, and he hoped that if she did insist on leaving, his parents might find a place for her again.