Рейчел Бейли – Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter: Claiming His Bought Bride / Seducing the Enemy's Daughter (страница 9)

And in a surprise to himself, he’d grown more fascinated by the idea she was carrying his child inside her. Moved, even. When he’d devised this plan after his uncle’s offer, he hadn’t stopped to think of the emotional bond he’d feel to the baby. After his disastrous childhood, he’d have been happy going through life never reproducing.

And yet … even now, there was a tiny version of him under Lily’s hands as they rested on her belly. Where did the baby fit? Lily may be tall, but she was slim. In fact, she could use a bit more meat on her bones. He’d start working on that from today, too. This woman was carrying his child and he’d make damn sure both of them had everything they needed.

“Tell me what you know about the baby.” He hadn’t finished forming the thought before it was out of his mouth.

Her eyes opened slowly, lazily, and she smiled. “I don’t know much yet. No gender. But everything is progressing as it should be for this far along.”

Damon grabbed on to the small morsel of information, yet still needing more. “Can you …” He cleared his throat. “Can you feel him move?”

“Not yet. Sometime in the next couple of weeks, the experts say.”

Sitting there on the couch, hands clasped over their child, lashes fluttering to rest on her cheeks, she was so damn beautiful, the epitome of what a mother should be—soft, protective, kind. Despite his threat in her kitchen about giving him sole custody, he’d never act on it. Having been deprived of a mother’s love for most of his childhood, he knew its value.

His hand reached out, almost of its own volition, then retracted. It seemed an intimacy too far. Strange, when they were married and would be lovers again as soon as she stopped fighting it. And this was his baby.

Yet something still kept him from forcing this intrusion on her without invitation. Something about her now, perhaps the glow radiating from her skin, which made her look like the Madonna portrait that had hung in his childhood schoolroom.

She was high above him, he with his blackened heart. He was under no illusions about the darkness that consumed him inside, a consequence of being raised by an instrument of the devil. A man who had no boundaries on the methods he used—even on a child. Cruelty, humiliation, violence, thievery.

Damon had always prided himself that no matter how low he sank, he never stooped as low as Travis. But now, looking down on Lily, untainted by darkness, he could see his own true colors.

God knew, it was too late for him. The only way to save himself now was to have her purity beside him, part of him. She’d give him an heir, BlakeCorp and personal salvation.

He needed to have her, now more than ever.

Decision made beyond question, he smiled, using all his charm. “The color’s returned to your cheeks. You look well enough for that shower now. I’ll order up some food while you’re in there.”

Her eyes drifted open, a cool green gaze landed on his for a moment, lingered, then she turned away and nodded.

Unsettled but determined, he watched her go and made a vow to himself.

He would have her. Tonight.

Four

Lily lay across the bed in the dusk-darkened room. She stretched, feeling the slide of her satin pajamas on her skin, listening to the shower running, knowing Damon was in there, soapy, warm and beautiful. The open-plan room design only made things worse—no lock separated them, he stood just out of sight, literally around a white-tiled corner.

And he knew it, had planned it this way.

Being this close was playing havoc with her mind and body, and he knew that, too. Wherever she was, part of her focus always seemed to be reminiscing about their lovemaking, trying to block those memories, or wondering about making new memories….

She could walk into that bathroom now, drop her pajamas and robe and slip into the shower. He’d welcome her, pull her close under the spray, perhaps languidly soap her up, running a hand over her glistening skin, and she’d slide her tongue along his strong jaw, down his throat, then—

No. She groaned as she faced away from that side of the suite and dragged herself back from the brink. That would only increase her involvement—and more than instinct told her she was too deep already. She couldn’t fall in love with him again. It almost destroyed her last time. Never again would she fall for a man as self-serving, morally bankrupt, and as much of a workaholic as Damon Blakely.

She sighed and slid a glance toward the bathroom. Of course, she had to admit she loved the way he looked at her as if she were a rare delicacy. Loved the way he walked into a room and his presence instantly dominated it. Loved his troubled heart that he kept so guarded and hidden, even from himself. Loved the way his skin felt under her hands, under her mouth.

But, regardless of whether her heart remained intact this time or not, she knew one thing for sure: contrary to popular wisdom, love was not nearly enough.

Her mother had loved her father and the results had been devastating, for both of them and for her, their only child. She’d been notified a week after her fifteenth birthday that they’d died in a road accident. They said her mother fell asleep at the wheel and ran off the road.

Lily’s hand went to her mother’s silver heart pendant hanging on a fine silver chain around her neck. It was the sum total of her inheritance from her parents—the only item of value in their possessions.

She gripped the silver heart tighter as she wondered again if her mother had reached breaking point and seen no other way out. She’d cried for them and herself, but had been grateful they’d sent her to live with Gran three years earlier.

Supposedly the change had been to give her a chance to stay in one place, but Lily had always known that her grandmother had demanded she be sent to her. Her parents, like two kids on an adventure, lacked the will to disobey Gran, whose own backbone was pure steel. Lily had been offered occasional sympathy over the years as the girl given up by her parents. But even at twelve Lily had seen the situation clearly—Gran had rescued her and Lily would be forever grateful.

The years with her parents had been unpredictable and confusing, and had left her craving stability. They said one thing but meant another. Their well-meaning inconsistency was one of the reasons she understood the way Damon’s mind worked. He’d promise her the world, but he always ended up getting what he wanted.

Words were easy for her parents, for Damon. Actions told the real story. Damon’s priorities were the only ones that mattered to him.

She would never live that way again—it was soul-destroying to feel valueless.

More important, she would save her baby from that environment. Already, she loved this tiny person too much to subject it to the emotional torment a life with Damon would surely bring.

The water stopped and she sat bolt upright, listening to the sounds of Damon moving about in the bathroom. A cold sweat broke out over her skin. The man in the bathroom was her husband. The thought hit her with sickening force. She’d gone through with it. She’d married Damon Blakely. They’d exchanged vows of love, fidelity and commitment. Vows neither of them intended to honor.

Jitters all the way to her fingers and toes replaced her fatigue. She’d really done it.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Room service.” The call made her stomach rumble. How long since she’d eaten? Too long. She stood and padded out to open the door.

Three men in maroon-and-gold uniforms stood waiting behind multilayered trolleys. Lily’s jaw dropped. What in the name of heaven was this? There must be enough food here to feed the entire floor! She stood back to let them pass.

The first two men pushed their deliveries past her, parked their trolleys beside the pale pink marble table and began laying out linen and cutlery. The third man gave her a slight bow on the way past and left his trolley a little behind the others.

“Dessert,” he said, looking at her and then at a spot over her shoulder.

Lily turned to see Damon coming through the bedroom doorway, tying the sash on the large white hotel bathrobe that draped his frame, midnight hair damp, feet bare on the thick carpet. She remembered how her hands followed the trail of hair down his chest, hard stomach and lower. Dizzy with lust, she could do no more than lick her dry lips.

How would she resist this man if, when, he made that inevitable concerted effort to seduce her? He would try and she must resist no matter how much she craved his touch. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to reestablish her ground rules after they made love even once. She had to remember that he had an ulterior motive. She was his ticket to BlakeCorp.

“Ah, the food’s arrived.” His voice was a low rumble that soaked in and touched her deep in her bones.

Damon reached into the robe’s pocket and withdrew several folded notes, which he gave to the men in turn. The first two bowed and left the room; the third looked down at the tip and grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Blakely.”