Mistress of Deception
His Ebony...
Something strong and fiercely possessive curled around his heart as he stared down into the innocence of her unconscious face. Strangely, he knew
that, no matter what she'd done with Stevenson at the Ramada, she still loved him. Last night did not lessen that fact. That had been just sex.
What she craved from him was love. Alan could see that now. That was why she'd reacted so violently to his loveless lovemaking, why it had repelled her in the end. She wanted from him what no man had ever given her before. True love.
Alan struggled to contain his emotion at this thought, but he'd been right in his resolve back at the house. He would marry her and, by God, he'd make it work. She needed him as much as he needed her. He'd watch over her, protect her, keep her safe from other men's dark desires. And her own. Everyone had faults and weaknesses. Hers was clearly sex.
But he had a plan to combat that. He'd give her a baby. Alan reasoned that maturity and the strong maternal instinct he was sure Ebony possessed would probably solve this one flaw of hers. He sure as hell hoped so, because he didn't think he could bear it if she ever made him feel again as she'd made him feel last night. Just thinking about it made him cringe. Still, that was the past, and Stevenson was going back to Paris next week. As damned hard as it would be, he would learn to forget his pain, learn to forgive.
But could he get her to forgive him?
Ah, yes... that would take some doing, if he knew his Ebony.
When she came to, it was to find herself being carried down the gangway in Alan's arms. He was wearing shorts, and nothing else, his manner grimly silent as he manoeuvred his way carefully down the steep steps and through the galley and small sitting-room. Even after several seconds she still felt totally disorientated.
'What.. .what happened?' she asked when he stopped at the door of the one and only bedroom.
His eyes snapped down to hers. God, but he looked dreadful, she thought dazedly, his face all pinched and strained.
'You fainted,' came his curt announcement.
'Fainted?'
'Yes, fainted. It was probably the blood.'
'The blood?' Her voice sounded weak and shaky. Slowly, she remembered something about a cut on her foot, but when she went to look at it again Alan snapped, 'Don't look! Close your eyes and try to relax.'
'All... all right,' she agreed, and, linking floppy arms around his bare chest, she closed her eyes and sagged back against him.
It was then that the whole scenario flooded back and she froze. What am I doing, hugging this man who doesn't love me, who only wants me for one thing?
If he noticed her sudden stiffening he ignored it, or maybe he was too busy opening the door of the cabin and getting her inside and on to the double bed.
'You'd better take that wet costume off,' he told her brusquely. 'You're frozen stiff. I'll get the first-aid kit. Here's a couple of towels.' He pulled them from the railing of the tiny en suite and tossed them over to her before turning and leaving.
Ebony stared at his retreating back. Frozen stiff, was she? Well, it wasn't from cold. It was from shock and horror and total despair.
A deep series of shudders rippled through her, and she realised she was cold. An angry desolation invaded her heart as she stripped the skimpy costume from her still damp body and threw the hateful thing into a corner. Wrapping her long wet hair up in one towel, she rubbed her shivering body with the other, then dragged the sides of the quilt around her, careful to keep her foot hanging over the edge so that any drips of blood wouldn't stain the bedspread. The floor didn't matter so much, being polished wood.
Not that she should care about his damned bedspread or his damned anything, she thought despairingly. The man was cruel and callous and so arrogantly selfish that it was mind-boggling. Did he honestly think she would marry him now? She wanted to be his wife for real, not his legal mistress, which was the only sort of marriage he seemed to have in mind, if he had one in mind at all!
Outrage welled up within her as she awaited Alan's return, yet when he walked in looking grim, then sat down to pick her foot up and stroke it with incredible softness, the angry words she'd been rehearsing couldn't seem to find voice.
'I nearly died when I found you lying unconscious on that deck,' he admitted bleakly, 'then when I saw the blood. But at least it doesn't look too