Mistress of Deception

His hesitation was only brief, and then he was crushing her to him, kissing her till their breathing had gone haywire. The love she had hopelessly tried to destroy came rushing back, firing her with the need to express that love in the only way he had ever let her.

'Make love to me, Alan,' she cried huskily. 'Make love to me, Alan,' she cried huskily. 'Make love to me...'

With a raw groan of desire, he swept her up into his arms and carried her swiftly to his bed. Within no time they were both naked, both in the throes of a passion that knew nothing but each other. It was no wonder that they didn't hear Deirdre's first soft tap on the heavy door.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEIRDRE was worried. When she'd returned to the kitchen to make Vicki a drink of hot chocolate she'd noticed the dining- and living-rooms were empty. Bob had told her that he thought Ebony had gone home and Mr Alan to bed. But Ebony's black cape was still hanging on the coat stand in the foyer.

It wasn't till after Deirdre had taken the drink back to Vicki that the idea presented itself that Ebony and Alan might have had another row, with an upset Ebony forgetting to take her cape when she left. The more she thought about that possibility, the more she was convinced it was right. The atmosphere between them tonight had been as fraught with tension as ever before, and it was all Alan's fault. He'd tried to needle Ebony from the moment she'd arrived.

Annoyed with him, Deirdre went along to his room to confront him with what had happened. Already she'd knocked once, with no answer, yet she could swear she could hear noises coming from inside.

Exasperation joined her irritation. If Alan thought she would just go away if he ignored her knocking, then he had another think coming. She meant to give him a piece of her mind if he'd been fighting with Ebony again.

Her second knock was quite loud, as was her voice asking if he was in there. But she waited no more than a couple of seconds before barging right in, intent on not letting her son brush her off so rudely.

Shock galvanised her to the spot in the open doorway, her fingers freezing on the knob. For there was no doubting what she had just interrupted her son doing. His state of undress, combined with his hurried rolling sideways and scooping a sheet upwards, was telling enough. But it was the sight of his

open-mouthed bed-partner that caused Deirdre Carstairs's heart to stop beating.

'Ebony!' she gasped aloud, unable to believe what she was seeing.

The girl herself gave a choked cry and turned to bury her face in the pillow. Alan closed his eyes momentarily before throwing his mother a black look.

'Maybe that will teach you not to come into a man's bedroom unannounced,' he growled.

'But...but I did knock,' she wailed, appalled both with the situation and all the thoughts it sent tumbling through her mind. My God, how long had this been going on?

A long time, she realised with a mother's sudden intuition. Maybe even longer...

Nausea rose in her throat, and she swallowed convulsively. Dear God, not that long, she prayed.

Immediately, she turned on the person who, on age alone, had to be mostly to blame. 'Oh, Alan, how could you?'

His reaction staggered her.

'How could ? My God, that's rich, that is. How could I? he repeated, then laughed. 'Oh, get out, Mother, before I say things you won't want to hear. Get out and take all your presumptions with you because I'm not going to deny a thing. Yes, I heartlessly seduced your poor darling sweet little Ebony. Yes, I betrayed the sacred trust her father gave her. Yes, I'm a wicked depraved lecher. Will it make you happy to believe that?'

Ebony wanted to bury her face in the pillow forever when she heard Alan's indirect but scathing condemnation of her character, her despair so great it was beyond despair. It was death. He had finally sentenced her love to death. A little while before, when he'd apologised and started making love to her, she had thought he loved her. But no...she'd been wrong... again.

Her pride-filled spirit had not died, however. It was, if anything, made stronger by this ultimate of betrayals. Steeling herself, she rolled over and levered herself upright, tossing her long hair back as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and bent down to begin drawing on her scattered clothes.

Not a word was uttered by anyone as she pulled on her panties. Not a single word. She sensed that both Alan and his mother were watching her go about her coolly composed dressing in a state of stunned silence, but she refused to show any distress.