Australia: In Bed with a King: The Cattle King's Mistress

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TENSION! Being pressed so close to Nathan, Miranda instantly felt it whipping through him, transmitting a stiffening jolt to her shredded nerves. The firm wall of his chest expanded. The hand stroking her hair clenched. The muscular thighs supporting hers tautened to rock-hardness. It seemed for several seconds, he didn’t breathe at all. And neither did she!

Sheer panic threw her mind into chaos. What had she done by spilling that information? He’d wanted to know. He’d asked her to trust him. But words spoken couldn’t be taken back. If he was thinking badly of her again…

A primitive savagery seized Nathan’s mind. I will not let him have her. I will not let him hurt her. He’s a dead man if he so much as touches her! Then some spark of rationality pulled him back from that violent edge and argued that he had to handle this situation with some finesse. Miranda was not his and only God knew what she felt for the scum who didn’t have the decency to leave her alone.

His breath whooshed out, making her scalp tingle with apprehension. The feeling that she was poised on the edge of an abyss with her whole life in the balance made her heart clench with fear. A surge of adrenaline spurred a need to fight for what she wanted. Though she didn’t know how she was going to go about it, she lifted her head, ready to face whatever she had to.

“Right!” he snapped, easing away from her, his hands grasping her upper arms to hold her steady.

She braved meeting his eyes, her own completely dry now, and was stunned by the blue blaze of purpose burning from them.

“So he’s the cause of your stress. What are you expecting him to do and why, Miranda? Spell it out to me. I’ll be able to help you better if I’m aware of all the nuances to this situation.”

Relief! Nathan wasn’t judging. He was going to listen…to help. Dizzy from the wrangle of emotions still seizing her brain, Miranda took a deep breath to feed some oxygen into her bloodstream, and tried to focus her mind on delivering the salient facts.

Her mouth was dry. She worked some moisture into it and started to outline the problem, her eyes begging his understanding. “The Hewson family own the Regent Hotel chain. They’re…they’re very rich, influential. I didn’t want to continue any kind of relationship with Bobby once I heard he was committed to marrying Celine Parmentier. Her family owns the Soleil Levant hotels. The marriage was going to give Bobby more power. He said I could ride up the ladder with him or…”

The bitter disillusionment of that scene rushed in on her again, the terms Bobby had laid out, ringing with the kind of corrupt promises that had taken her mother down a road that had emptied her heart of all love.

“Or?” Nathan prompted.

She sighed away the dark, grievous memory and pushed on with the deal Bobby had pressed, the revulsion she’d felt reflected in her voice. “If I didn’t see sense, I might find my career on shaky ground. If I sought a position elsewhere, a good reference could be withheld.”

Nathan frowned. “But it wasn’t. My mother said your references were excellent.”

“Bobby didn’t expect me to leave. He thought he had me. So he didn’t bother instructing the manager to withhold the truth about my capabilities, or cast any slur on them.”

“So you left without telling him you were going.”

“I told no one about applying for this job or getting it. Once I was notified I had it, I packed up my possessions, handed in my resignation and walked out of the Sydney Regent the same day. To all intents and purposes, I disappeared.”

“Drastic action,” he mused, as though measuring all it meant.

Sensing some criticism of her decisions, and discomforted by it, Miranda broke out of his hold and paced around the two armchairs that faced the television set before turning to confront him again, her hands gesticulating the urgency she’d felt to escape any rebound effect from walking out on Bobby Hewson.

“I wanted a clean break. King’s Eden offered me that. It was out of his reach, not connected to people or places he knew. I thought he couldn’t get at me here or do me any damage by bad-mouthing me because this was outside the normal hotel trade.”

“Get at you?” Nathan picked up sharply, his eyes searing hers with questions.

She flushed, hating the admission she had to make. Her arms instinctively hugged her midriff, holding in the awful vulnerability she felt. “We were together for three years. You don’t just forget all that intimate knowledge, Nathan. And he’ll use it. I know he will.”

The muscles in his face tightened. A wave of disapproval seemed to come at her and it instantly struck a fierce well of resentment. What about him and his two years with Susan? At least she had thought of marriage with Bobby.

“Do you still want him?” he shot at her.

“No!” she flared, throwing out her hands in exasperated denial. “What do you think this is all about? I don’t want anything more to do with him. Can’t you see that?”

“I see how upset you are by his coming, which suggests to me the relationship is not dead for you. If it were dead, he couldn’t get at you, Miranda,” he argued tersely.

“You miss the point,” she fiercely retorted. “It’s not dead for him. And if you think he’s going to leave it alone on my say-so…” She shook her head. “My exit from his life told him I wanted out and he’s ignoring it. He’s deliberately pursuing me, breaking the other plans he’d made the moment he heard where I was. I didn’t invite him.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you won’t want him when he’s with you again.”

“He’s with his wife!”

“Miranda, you can say no in your mind.” He walked slowly towards her, his eyes boring into hers. “You said it to me. And you can mean it in your mind, bolstering the no with any number of reasons. I’m not questioning that.”

“Then what are you questioning?” she gabbled, feeling the strong male force of him increase as he stepped closer and closer, encompassing her, sending her nerves haywire, stirring all the wild desires she had nursed in the darkness of the nights. It was Nathan she wanted. Not Bobby. And her heart wept that he should think otherwise.

“I think you’re worried about what you’ll feel when he’s here…when you’re faced with him. Feelings aren’t something we can easily govern. What if he draws you into his arms…”

He followed the words with the action, slowly gathering Miranda close to him, but behind the seemingly controlled deliberation in his eyes, she saw the flicker of something that wasn’t controlled at all, and it ignited a wild, wanton recklessness in her. Or perhaps the pressure of his body did, the sexuality that seemed to brood from it and clutch at her.

“When you kissed me back, that morning beside the helicopter…were you missing him, Miranda?”

“No. I wasn’t thinking of anything. I just…”

“Responded to me.”

“Yes.” It was barely a hiss of sound. His head was bending to hers and she wanted him to kiss her now, to completely blot Bobby Hewson out of anything be-tween them.

“Then keep remembering this when he comes, Miranda.” A harshness in his voice now, scraped with raw emotion. “Remember how you feel with me.”

Then he did kiss her, and it was no exploratory dip to measure her response, no trial for any special element in their tasting of each other. It was full-scale plunder, a kiss of such driving, demanding passion, Miranda was instantly consumed by the explosion of need it ignited. The hot fusion of their mouths was not enough, nowhere near enough, though as they greedily fed on every possible sensation they could find and savour…intoxicating themselves with kiss after kiss, their hands followed their own instinctive path.

Impossible to remember afterwards whether she tore at his clothes or he tore at hers. The undressing was jerky, erratic, urgent, frantic, the compulsion to be rid of everything that came between them almost violent—no stopping it—no wish to pause or think or do anything other than revel in the impact of their bodies fully touching, bare flesh meeting bare flesh, the hot exciting friction of skin against skin, his hands skimming, squeezing her soft curves, her fingers raking the taut musculature that seemed to bristle with masculinity.

She remembered thinking he was a magnificent bull of a man and she wanted to be mated with him, wanted it more than anything she’d wanted in her life, to have the strength of him inside her, to feel him moving with her…this man who called so deeply to the woman she was, whatever else either of them were.

He propelled them to the bed, hauled her onto it, took the dominant position over her, and she automatically arched her body to meet his as he sought entry. His eyes connected with hers…a fierce blaze of desire…fiercely returned…both of them throbbed with an urgency that could not brook any denial.

Her whole body quivered with elation as she felt him push forward, sheathing himself with her moist heat, her inner muscles convulsing around him in bliss, the hard fullness of him opening a passage that pulsed with wild anticipation, wanting all he could give her. She wrapped her legs around him, pressing him on, and the plunge that followed was exquisitely fulfilling, so incredibly deep it felt as though he had entered her womb, an eerie, intimate sensation that spread out in concentric circles, totally captivating in its intensity.

From that moment on, Miranda’s whole being was totally focused on the rhythmic ripples set in constant motion by Nathan’s powerful thrusting. She was acutely aware of their strengthening infiltration of every cell of her body, the aching sweetness accompanying their invasion, the sense of their building towards a shattering peak, of pleasure becoming too intense to sustain within the space of her being. A time came when she seemed poised on the edge of it and a cry of anguish broke from her throat.

In the very next instant all the torturous tension exploded into a sunburst of glorious ecstasy, and she was floating in some heavenly space, and the man who had brought her there was sharing it with her, cradling her in a hug that kept them bound together as he rolled to one side, removing his weight, yet still enveloping her in a cocoon of strength, caring, protective, possessive.

Their breathing slowed. The thunder of their heartbeats dropped to a barely discernible pulse. The languor that stole over them was seductive…warm, peaceful, enticing a prolonged stay of judgement on what they’d done. It couldn’t be examined with words. It had gone beyond words.

Miranda was acutely aware she had never experienced anything like this before…such primitive, com-pelling passion…yet somehow instinctively right with this man…and being held by him now felt right, too, as though she belonged with him. While it made no rational sense, her mind stood in awe of these feelings, and the longer he held her, the more immersed she became in the blind conviction that they were meant to come together and this was how a man and woman should feel when they did, and she wished she had always known this. Then she could never have been fooled about what it was supposed to be.

Eventually Nathan spoke. He was trailing strands of her hair through his fingers as she lay with her head on his chest. She felt his intake of breath and the words he said were soft but very, very decisive.

“You don’t need Bobby Hewson, Miranda.”

Bobby? The part of her life he had inhabited felt so minimised she could barely bring it to mind. “No, I don’t,” she answered fervently.

“I’ll be here tomorrow evening to make sure he understands you don’t need him.”

Here? Did Nathan mean in her bed? How would Bobby know—see—the incredible difference of what she felt with Nathan?

“I’ll join you and your party of guests for dinner, but I’ll come earlier,” he said, his voice firm with the plans in his mind.

Miranda struggled past the fuzziness in hers. Nathan meant to be with her publicly, showing Bobby she was not alone, very much not alone!

“In time for the Happy Hour gathering,” Nathan specified.

“Happy Hour!” Miranda jack-knifed out of Nathan’s embrace and looked at her watch. It was almost six o’clock. “I’ve got to get going. I should be out there.” A flush of embarrassment poured into her face as she turned to look squarely at him. “This is my job, Nathan.”

“Duty calls,” he said equably.

She hurtled off the bed and raced into her ensuite bathroom, frantically turning on the taps in the shower, shoving her hair into a plastic cap and stepping under the hot spray before pausing for breath or further thought. Only then did it strike her that Nathan’s mind had been locked on Bobby, before and after, and he hadn’t said anything about what he felt with her.

What if it had only been a male competitive thing with him?

Instantly her whole body revolted against this thought. Nathan had wanted her before he’d ever known about Bobby. It had nothing to do with Bobby. Nothing! He was purely incidental in their coming together.

It came as another jolt to realise they hadn’t used protection. Just as well she was on the pill to keep her cycle regular. And she couldn’t see Nathan being a health risk, having recently been in a long monogamous relationship. All the same, there should have been questions asked.

On the other hand, obviously there had been no pre-meditation by either of them. Which said something about the strength of the attraction between them. The moment Nathan had started kissing her she’d forgotten Bobby, her job, everything. Such a total wipe-out had never happened to her before. Never. It had to mean something special. There was no other explanation for it.

Clean and fresh again, Miranda turned off the taps and quickly towelled herself dry. A nervous energy possessed her as she attended to her hair and make-up. Had Nathan left, having made his arrangements for tomorrow? Did those arrangements mean more than fixing the problem with Bobby?

She wrapped a towel around herself before emerging from the bathroom. Modesty, at this point, seemed rather foolish but she didn’t feel comfortable flaunting her naked body with the heat of passion gone, and if Nathan was still in the apartment…this was so new. Her mind was torn over how he viewed the intimacy they had just shared. She wanted to be sure.

He was fully dressed and placing the parcel of diaries he’d brought her on the bedside table when she opened the bathroom door. He swung to face her, his gaze making a swift, comprehensive sweep of her appearance.

“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her eyes for any flicker of concern.

“Yes.” She offered an ironic smile. “A little stunned.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think of protection.”

Relief surged through her. It might be practical caring but it was caring. “I’ve been on the pill for quite a while. I used to have problems with…” She shrugged, realising she was gabbling and he wouldn’t be interested in how heavily and haphazardly she’d menstruated without medication to give her a normal cycle.

He returned her ironic smile. “I’m usually more responsible. I’m not a health risk, Miranda.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Supposedly not for two healthy adult people accepting a simple case of lust gone wild, Miranda thought, needing more from him than this matter-of-fact manner. He started walking towards her and she was once again mesmerised by the overwhelming power of the man, his air of solid self-assurance.

“I’ll go now. You have work to do.” He put his hand on her shoulder, a light reassuring touch, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Just to remind you to keep us in the forefront of your mind tomorrow, when Bobby Hewson arrives.” His eyes seared hers with the intense recollection of their intimacy. “Expect me at six o’clock. I’ll be here to stand by you. Okay?”

“Yes.” Was this all it was to him…blotting out Bobby? “Thank you,” she added, searching his eyes for more.

He suddenly grinned. “My pleasure.”

She watched him leave, too captivated by his presence to move until the door closed behind him. Then conscience pricked her again and she flew to her cupboard, discarding the towel and hastily pulling on clothes.

Nathan’s words—I’ll be here to stand by you—lin- gered in her mind. Bobby had never done that, not in the supportive sense Nathan meant. Her mother had never had a man she could truly lean on. It was, at least, one good feeling Nathan had left her with, being able to count on him, and Miranda had no doubt he was as good as his word.

But what about when Bobby was gone? Was she to be another Susan in Nathan’s life? His …pleasure?

Miranda shied away from these questions. She couldn’t deal with them now. She had guests waiting for her. Everything else had to be pushed aside. Tomorrow would come soon enough…Bobby…Nathan…and hopefully some answers she could live with.

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS her job to greet the incoming homestead guests, and greet them she would, but Miranda’s stomach was twisted into a painful knot as she watched Bobby Hewson and his new wife arrive.

He alighted from the luggage buggy first, still looking like a sun-king as she had always thought of him—his light brown hair streaked with blonde, his skin gleaming with a perfect golden tan, a dazzling white smile flashing from a face so handsome it was guaranteed to make any woman melt. But it didn’t melt Miranda today. It was a strange shaky feeling, seeing him again and knowing the brilliant facade of the man hid a corrupt heart that could never, never be trusted.

“Miranda…” he called, as though the sight of her filled him with delight. “It’s a real pleasure to find a familiar face in the great beyond.”

His charm washed over her, too, though once it had invariably turned her inside out, dispelling doubts and making her believe he really did love her, that she was truly the light of his life. This time, her mouth didn’t automatically flash a responding smile. She had to force it.

“It’s a surprise to see you out of the city, Bobby.”

He still managed to look city elegant in shorts and sports shirt, colour co-ordinated in navy, red and green, expensive Reeboks on his feet. His tall, gym-trained athletic body carried all clothes well.

“A new challenge always lifts the spirit,” he answered, his eyes raking Miranda from head to toe with sexual intent, even as he held out his hand to the woman now stepping out of the buggy.

Inwardly bristling at Bobby’s blatant cockiness, Miranda switched her attention to his wife. Her skin was dark olive, making her look quite exotic, dressed as she was in scarlet shorts, a designer T-shirt—white, splashed with an abstract pattern of colourful poppies—and a very chic straw hat with one scarlet poppy artfully placed on the brim. She was also petite, her figure slender, almost boyish, small firm breasts clearly braless.

Miranda, dressed in her usual day uniform of khaki safari shorts and shirt, suddenly felt like a drab Amazon compared to this woman, but she quickly brushed the comparison aside. She was not in competition with Bobby Hewson’s wife and never would be.

Keeping her smile in place, she said, “And you must be Celine. Welcome to King’s Eden, both of you.”

“Thank you. It is amazing, this outback of yours,” she lilted at Miranda, her native French tongue giving her English a very attractive accent. “Very much an exciting adventure.”

“I hope it continues to be so,” Miranda replied, noting that Celine led the way up the path to the verandah, Bobby strolling a step behind. Detaching himself from his wife?

“Did you manage to make all the bookings I phoned through this morning?” Celine asked eagerly.

“Yes, everything has been arranged,” Miranda affirmed.

“Even the boat ride down Granny Gorge this after noon?”

“The guide will be here by the time you’ve checked into your suite.”

She clapped her hands in glee. “I did not want these few hours wasted.”

Close up, Celine was younger than Miranda had imagined. She barely looked out of her teens, her pretty face framed by short black hair styled in a pixie cut, and dominated by big dark eyes, aglow with enthusiasm.

“I think I’ll give the gorge a miss, Celine,” Bobby dropped casually as they mounted the steps to the verandah.

“But I’ve booked!” she protested, her face petulant with displeasure as she turned to him.

“You can go, pet,” he answered indulgently. “I’d like to have a look around the resort. See how it works.”

“Business!” She heaved a vexed sigh.

He ignored it, looking over her shoulder at Miranda, his amber eyes gleaming tigerishly. “I’d like a personal tour, Miranda.”

With her, he meant, and every fighting instinct rose to the fore. He was not going to get at her. She would not let him. “As you like. I’ll call a guide to come and show you what you want to see.”

“Come now, Miranda,” he cajoled, steering his wife onto the verandah so that he could step up for a direct confrontation, his body language emitting confident demand. “Don’t I merit you as my guide?”

She tried to construct an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not free this afternoon.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could delegate your responsibilities.”

“This isn’t a big city hotel, Bobby, and doesn’t run like one,” she explained reasonably. “All my staff have very specific responsibilities…”

“And I have a special request which I have no doubt your employers would understand and appreciate,” he cut in, his eyes as hard as gold nuggets.

The threat of blackmail had no teeth here, yet the vindictive ego behind it caused her heart to contract. The thought of Nathan standing by her gave her the courage to defy any pressure to fall in with Bobby Hewson’s will.

“I can provide a guide,” Miranda repeated firmly. “However, if you wish to arrange something with the King family, I believe Nathan King will be here this evening.”

And he won’t bend to your will, either, she thought with savage satisfaction.

“Ah! So you can leave this business until then, Bobby.” Celine jumped in, curling her arm around his and pouting up at him. “I want you with me.”