Terms Of Possession

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‘You calculating bastard.’

‘Right on target.’ He smiled without warmth, bringing embarrassed colour to her cheeks as she realised the hardhitting implication of what she had just called him. ‘And as far as the adjective goes, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?’ he said smoothly, aware of her embarrassment as he got out and came round to open her door with a courtesy that surprised her in the circumstances.

It only took an hour for her to pack the things she needed to take, although she filled a large suitcase and a substantial-sized travelling bag.

‘Leave that,’ Cameron ordered when she went to pick it up to follow him down with her suitcase to the car.

‘Why? Scared I might overdo things?’ she couldn’t help taunting sarcastically, but he ignored it, stooping to pick up the travelling bag with her case and carrying them both effortlessly downstairs.

She had been in the bathroom, checking that she hadn’t forgotten anything, and heard Cameron coming back just as she came out into the hall.

‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ he advised grimly, ‘before we go any further, and that’s that I don’t care an iota what happens to you. But I am concerned for the welfare of my child, and while you’re carrying it you’ll take every possible precaution to protect it. Do I make myself clear?’

Perfectly, she thought, trying to deny just how much his confessed lack of concern for her had hurt. And, of course, she was going to take every step necessary to safeguard her baby. But she didn’t tell him that, snapping back instead, ‘What will you do? Pass sentence on me if I don’t?’ And with that deliberately provocative remark she brushed past him with her chin in the air, out to the gleaming saloon.

It was dark when they arrived at the cottage—Cameron’s insistence on stopping for a meal en route, which she had felt too nauseous to eat, which he had interpreted as rebellion, having necessitated a good hour’s break in their journey.

Now, as they pulled up in the country lane outside the solitary little house, Nadine’s stomach seemed to come up into her mouth.

‘Would you give me a minute?’ she uttered as he started getting out of the car, despising herself for the way it had come out—as an almost feeble appeal. She didn’t want to make a fuss—show any weakness in front of him.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I feel sick.’ Suddenly she was forced to swallow her pride and tell him, leaning sharply forward, her hand clamped over her mouth.

‘I thought that was a morning problem,’ he remarked when she sat back again.

‘So did I.’ Feeling easier, she uttered an ironic little laugh. ‘I think my body-clock’s stuck permanently on a.m. at the moment.’

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ He sounded surprisingly concerned, but she merely shrugged, deciding against reminding him of his earlier remark about not caring about her. ‘You’ve been to sleep,’ he said laconically—which was something, she thought, that she seemed to be doing all the time lately. ‘That might not have helped. Wait here.’

He got out of the car and she watched his tall, shadowy figure moving through the little gate, along the garden path; she heard the jangle of keys then the door opening, before light flooded through the aperture, spilling out across the step and two superb hydrangea bushes that were growing near the house.

‘Come on.’ The touch of his hand on her elbow was

gentle if not caring, and unwelcome sensations assailed her as she teetered unsteadily and felt a supportive arm go across her back.

‘I’m all right,’ she protested with mild vehemence, trying to pull away.

‘The devil you are.’ He swore roughly under his breath. ‘And it isn’t going to help not eating properly. You’re going to get something inside you,’ he asserted, that strong arm keeping her locked to his side as he guided her along the path.

‘I couldn’t,’ she uttered, her mind rejecting his electrifying nearness as much as her stomach rejected the thought of food.

‘You can and you will. You’ll eat little and often and drink plenty of fluids,’ he told her, surprising her with a knowledge of her condition she hadn’t expected him to possess. ‘You might think you can’t stomach anything, but it will help the nausea, believe me.’

On that, at least, she thought later, when she was sitting on the floral-patterned settee tucking into the dry toast and tea he had made her, he had been right, because the sickness had certainly begun to subside.

‘Did…you and Lisa come here for weekends?’ she asked hesitantly as he came in from the car with her luggage. The room, though spacious and well-furnished, reflected an old-world charm which was certainly not Lisa’s taste, she thought, remembering her friend’s liking for stark, contemporary designs.

‘No,’ he answered, and so tersely that she wondered if she should have mentioned it since he was still obviously blaming her for the break-up of his marriage. But then, in surprisingly neutral tones, he said, ‘Lisa never stayed here. This place belonged to an aunt of mine, and when she died last year it passed to me. I don’t get down here as often as I’d like, but it’s always been the perfect spot to come when I want to unwind and get life back into perspective. It’s also where I did a lot of my growing up.’

Of course. He had said he’d lived with various aunts, Nadine remembered, feeling the sudden throb of her pulse as her gaze clashed with his, the dark sapphire of his eyes holding hers with a hard, unsettling intensity.

What was he thinking? she wondered, weakened by a sexual magnetism she didn’t want to acknowledge. Because he had discarded his tie, loosened the pristine white shirt, so that she was disturbed by mental images of the last time she had seen him like that, in that other country house, but determinedly she pushed them out of her mind.

He might appeal to every feminine instinct she possessed, but she was only here with him now because of the consequences of that other time; because she was expecting his baby—the baby he had planned to share with Lisa. But he was still Lisa’s husband, and it was only because it was his baby that he was showing any concern or responsibility towards her, Nadine. What secret feelings she might harbour for him counted for nothing.

‘You look tired.’ Cameron’s voice was coolly detached. ‘I think you’d better go to bed. Come on, I’ll show you your room.’

His tone stirred a reckless rebellion in her, but she didn’t have the energy to argue and compliantly she went ahead of him, up the creaking stairs.

The room he showed her into had the same quaint charm as the sitting-room: the coverlet on the double bed matching the gaily floral curtains and valance, the predominant leafy greens picking out the natural green in the carpet.

‘The bathroom’s next door,’ he informed her, lifting her case up on to the chest beside the door. ‘If you need anything just call. I’m just along the corridor.’

Picking up on his last words, Nadine looked at him quickly. ‘Aren’t you…going back tonight?’ she asked, realising how foolish that sounded in view of the hour, and despairing of herself for letting him see how unsettled that made her feel as he smiled, mockingly aware.

‘No, Nadine, I’m not.’ He strode across to the bed where he deposited her travelling bag. ‘Were you imagining I was? Would you feel happier if the father of your child wasn’t around? Is that it?’

When she didn’t answer, too weary to launch herself into another verbal battle with him, he said, ‘Well, I’m going to be around—at every available opportunity. No child of mine is going to be deprived of its father-whether its mother likes it or not! So you’d better get used to the idea, sweetheart, and you’d better get used to it now!’

As he’d spoken he had tugged back the bedcovers on one side to reveal the crisp white pillowcases. Signs of a woman’s touch, Nadine couldn’t help thinking, although he had said Lisa didn’t come to the cottage. She guessed that he had someone in on a regular basis to clean.

‘You didn’t have to drag me away from my job—not so soon, anyway,’ Nadine protested tiredly, although feeling as she did at the moment she wasn’t totally averse to a break. ‘What am I supposed to do for the next few months, buried down here, miles from anywhere?’

‘I’m sure you’ll think of something,’ he drawled, pulling the chintzy curtains on the night-shrouded countryside. ‘And, as I said, I’ll make it my business to be around as often as I can. It might not be what you want, but you were certainly quick enough to agree to it when you were planning this little campaign of single motherhood for yourself. What you seemed to overlook was that it takes two to accomplish conception, and in any form of partnership you can’t have all your own way. When you’re over the worst and feeling better you can get back to your typewriter, if you feel inclined to, but I don’t see any point in your wasting all your valuable legal experience in some insurance office. You’ll probably find more job satisfaction—and certainly less risk to our child—working here, for me.’

Feeling the dressing-table immediately behind her, Nadine leaned back, with her hands on its smooth surface to steady herself, rocked by the absolute audacity of the man.

‘Why?’ she enquired brittly, too bruised and angered by his mistaken opinion of her even to try to defend herself, or to wonder exactly what he was proposing. ‘As surety? To make sure I pay back all the money you think I wheedled out of you? She finished with bitter cynicism, because—heaven help her!—she would. She didn’t know how. But somehow—some day—she would!

She caught her breath as he came too close for her to move away from the dressing-table, that elusive scent of him playing dangerous games with her senses as he caught her small chin between his thumb and forefinger and said, ‘Oh, you’ll pay.’ His tone was lethally soft. ‘But not in the way you’re imagining, Nadine. Money doesn’t even figure in the cost you’re going to have to settle with me. Now go to bed, like a good girl. Unless of course…’ His gaze strayed down across the inviting softness of the bed so that, panicking, she pushed at him with all her strength and caught his softly mocking laughter as he went out.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_fa48bd54-9776-56d4-bf51-1962d802f183)

WHEN Nadine awoke the sun was shining through a chink in the heavy floral curtains and, curious to see exactly where she was, she clambered out of bed.

The room obviously faced east, she realised as she pulled back the curtains, squinting from the dazzling rays of the sun. It was reflected almost blindingly by the gleaming bodywork of the Mercedes, which was parked beneath her window in the lane. On the other side, beyond a five-bar gate, fields stretched away to forestry and gently rolling hills, while in the immediate meadow-partly flanked on the lane-side by a row of chestnut trees—two horses grazed, coats brown and sleek, at one with the still, peaceful morning. No wonder Cameron had said it was a good place to unwind!

A tap on her door made her turn sharply, suddenly conscious of her short white lacy nightie. And she must have hesitated too long with her quiet, tentative, ‘Yes,’ or might simply not have been heard, because suddenly Cameron was coming in, although he stopped instantly when he saw her.

‘I thought you’d still be in bed,’ he remarked, obviously surprised. His glance over the feminine nightdress that she knew revealed far too much of her legs lifted to the tousled riot of auburn hair. ‘I didn’t bring you a tray as I wasn’t sure how much you could stomach in the mornings, but if you feel like something more than just dry toast it’s all prepared.’

This caring, domesticated side of him was so different from the hard antagonist who had left her the previous night that the disparity threw her for a moment. That, and the fact that the light cotton T-shirt he was wearing with pale, well-tailored trousers showed the muscular strength of his chest and broad shoulders, emphasising the hard, lean line of his waist.

‘No. J-just toast,’ she stammered, although remarkably she didn’t feel too bad this morning, she realised, as quickly she tagged on, ‘And it’s all right. I’ll be down.’

‘Why? Does my being in your room make you feel uncomfortable?’ he quizzed, with that sensual mouth curving sardonically. Hitting the nail on the head! she thought as he turned and went out before she could even think of a suitable response.

He didn’t appear to be around when she came down into the sunny breakfast-room, although the round oak table was laid for two, with the second place having already been cleared. The smell of freshly toasted bread hung appetisingly on the air. She could see three slices in the toast-rack. And there was a freshly made pot of tea steaming under a padded cosy, even though she could still smell the lingering and rather nauseating aroma of coffee he had obviously made for himself. Clearly he’d remembered her saying yesterday how her pregnancy had given her an aversion to it, she thought, with a reluctant gratitude to him for that much at least.

He didn’t reappear before she had eaten two slices of the toast with honey and almost drained the teapot, and, having finished, she got up from the table, tugging at the rather tight waistband of her jeans. Soon she would have to leave them off for something a little more comfortable, she realised with a grimace, but at that moment there was something more pressing on her mind. Something she should have done last night, if she hadn’t been so exhausted, and which she could do more easily now while Cameron wasn’t around.

Crossing the little passage to the sitting-room and the phone that stood on the table behind the door, feeling like a criminal, afraid of being caught, quickly she dialled the number of the convalescent home.

‘Hello. It’s me, Nadine.’

The sister, a bright, breezy woman, informed her that Dawn Kendall was out, undergoing a routine appointment at the hospital, and instantly launched into a comforting patter on how the rehabilitation exercises were helping her immensely, telling Nadine that she shouldn’t worry.

‘Thanks. You don’t know what that means to me.’ She smiled, visibly relaxing, and then, hearing a sound along the passage, said quickly, much more quietly, ‘I’ve moved out of the flat, but you can reach me at this number—’ hurriedly she conveyed it to the sister ‘—if you need to call me at all.’

She tried to put the phone down quietly, and only succeeded in dropping it into its cradle with a noisy little clatter, realising how guilty she must have appeared as, with a little gasp, she whirled round to see Cameron watching her from the doorway.