The Pleasure King's Bride
“You gave me the kind of showcase I wanted for our pearls, Christabel. Your designs are now on display in Hong Kong, exciting far more interest in the trade than a showing of our wholesale product.”
A rush of pleasure eased her sense of guilt. “Then I’ve given you something of value for all the time you’ve spent on me.”
He frowned quizzically. “I do want more.”
The quiet tone carried a wealth of suggestion, tapping straight into the pulsing core of why she’d come, why he’d invited her. He wanted more and so did she, and it had nothing to do with pearls and professional business. She stared at him, feeling the gathering ache of need he stirred, wishing it could be appeased, wondering if the risk would be worth taking.
“It must mean something to you, as well,” Jared went on, “knowing your creative vision has excited such interest?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, I only did it for you, but that was far too revealing a truth. “I simply enjoy designing, Jared. What you do with my work...that’s your business. It doesn’t relate to me any more.”
“But you could make a real name for yourself,” he pointed out.
A kick of alarm hit her heart. “You didn’t use my name, did you?”
His frown deepened. “No. As per our agreement, the jewellery was simply labelled Designs by Picard. But I do feel very strongly that you should get recognition, Christabel.”
She shook her head, the anxious moment receding at his reassurance. “I truly don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
Because they’ll find me through you. But she couldn’t say that. Dragging him into her dilemma wouldn’t solve anything. “I’m happier this way.”
“You could make a very substantial career.”
“I don’t need a career. What I need is to be free, Jared. Can you understand that?” A kind of desperate panic welled up in her, forcing an explanation that warned him where she stood. “Not to be tied down. Not to be owned. Not to have my life ordered by others. So don’t count on more from me. Don’t ever count on more. I’ve tried to tell you....”
“Yes, you have,” he agreed. “I’m sorry if you think I haven’t respected those feelings.”
The passionate outpouring broke into a ragged sigh. “Then why am I here?” she muttered defeatedly.
“Because it’s where you want to be.”
As simple as that. Except nothing was really as simple as that. She looked at him in anguished uncertainty.
“Let it rest for now, Christabel. Come...” He gestured towards the veranda, smiling in light whimsy. “...it’s only one evening.”
One evening...he was right. It involved only a short time span. Nothing need happen that she didn’t want to happen. And Alicia was with her.
Her gaze automatically swung to the veranda as she fell into step beside Jared. Alicia was chatting to a little old woman who was bent over, exuding interest in what the child was saying.
“Vikki Chan,” Jared elucidated. “Probably checking when and where to serve the honey prawns.”
As with many of the Chinese population in Broome, she wore loose cotton trousers and an overblouse with slits on the side. Her grey hair was scraped into a bun and her much wrinkled face was creased into an indulgent smile. Clearly Alicia was at ease with her.
Christabel gratefully seized on an impersonal topic of conversation. “I find it amazing that the Chinese and Japanese people here have adopted Western society names.”
“They’ve been here a long time. Descendants of the divers in the old days.”
“Yes, but they still keep many of their customs. Like leaving money on the graves in their cemetery.”
“Ah, but that has to do with beliefs, not day-to-day mixing with people. The captains of the pearling luggers gave Western names to their divers, for their own convenience in identifying them. The practice was accepted and passed on.”
“A very arrogant practice, imposing one culture on another.”
“Not a culture. Just a name. The Chinese culture is alive and thriving in Broome.” He slid her a dry look. “I doubt you’d find Vikki critical on that point. She’s quite the queen bee in the Chinese community.”
Being the keeper of the Picard home probably carried a certain status, Christabel thought, and being of a venerable age undoubtedly carried weight. She wasn’t really expecting the bright and shrewd intelligence that came straight at her from the old woman’s eyes when she straightened up from talking to Alicia.
Christabel felt herself blushing. Nothing was escaping those eyes. They had her stripped and logged in detail, with probably a character analysis done, as well. It took staunch discipline to keep walking up the steps to the veranda, her spine automatically stiffening at feeling herself scrutinised so comprehensively.
It reminded Christabel of her first meeting with Bernhard Kruger after she’d married his son.
Was she suitable?
Would she fit into the right mould?
Would she deliver what was required of her?
She’d had no conception of what she was getting into then. But she did here, with Jared’s world, and no matter what she felt with him, the conviction came very strongly that it was wrong to even touch it as she had.
“Vikki Chan...Christabel Valdez,” Jared casually introduced. “And her daughter, Alicia, whose acquaintance you’ve obviously already made.”
The old woman bowed. “An honour to meet you.”
Christabel politely inclined her head. “The honour is mine. It is very kind of you to welcome me.”
Vikki Chan raised a smiling face. “Your daughter tells me she’d like to eat out here so she can watch the storm. I wondered if you would prefer inside.”
“No. This is fine,” Christabel quickly assured her, noting that a table on the veranda had already been set and feeling she didn’t want to go farther into this house. It was easier, staying outside. Easier to leave.
“As you wish. I hope you will enjoy the evening.”
Only one evening, Christabel recited firmly to herself, as she watched the old woman walk back into her domain, Jared’s domain.
Behind her, a clap of thunder boomed with deafening force. It sounded like the crack of doom, warning her she should not have come. But it was only one evening. If she kept her head, no more would come from it.
Having screwed up the necessary willpower, she turned to face Jared...and the storm.
CHAPTER FOUR
JAGGED streaks of lightning shattered the blackness of the sky, a dramatic force of nature that was awesome, accompanied as it was by the explosion of thunder that rolled on and on. Christabel had never seen such storms in Europe, but she remembered them from her childhood in Brazil, and the flash floods they’d brought, wreaking havoc.
To Alicia, this was like a magic show, and she kept pointing out the highlights, crying excitedly, “Look! Look!” and clapping her hands with glee. “Oh, that was a big one!”
Jared laughed at her, enjoying her delight, while deftly playing the role of host, pouring them drinks, offering around a bowl of mixed nuts and rice crackers. He didn’t bother buttoning his shirt, and Christabel found herself disturbingly distracted by the glimpses of bare chest.
When he handed her a glass of white wine and charmingly asked, “Or would you rather have the fruit juice Vikki made for Alicia?” she took the wine rather than be faced with him serving her another drink, standing close to her, making her too physically aware of him.
Finally he sat down at the table, on the opposite side to where she had settled herself, leaving the chair between them for Alicia, who was happy darting between the table where she helped herself to crackers and juice, and the prime watching position at the top of the veranda steps.
The table was set simply with bamboo placemats, chopsticks placed on little wooden holders, as well as conventional cutlery in case she and Alicia were unskilled with chopsticks. However, the serviettes were of good linen and the glassware fine quality, adding a touch of class to the casual mood Jared was obviously intent on establishing.
He lifted his glass, his eyes brushing over her like dark sensual velvet. “It’s good to have you here.”
She felt her nipples hardening and leant forward defensively, toying with her glass. “You can’t really be lonely, Jared.”
“There are empty places in my life. Aren’t there in yours?”
She shrugged. “I dare say it’s impossible to fill all of them, all the time.”
“Filling some of them, some of the time, would help, don’t you think?”
“Temporary measures?”
“If that’s how it has to be. Better than nothing.”
“Maybe the empty place would feel even bigger afterwards.”
“Who can count on afterwards? I might be dead tomorrow.”
“Not likely,” she dryly retorted.
He glanced out at the storm, still unleashing thunderbolts. “My father died when his plane was struck by lightning, flying into Broome.”
The stark statement came as a shock to Christabel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
His gaze swung back, fastening on hers with compelling intensity. “None of us know the day or the hour, Christabel. I believe people should make the most of the time they have, while they still can.”
Certainly her husband hadn’t expected to die, not before his father. Laurens had been counting on inheriting all the money and all the power, having fulfilled Bernhard’s demand that he marry and beget at least one child. Nevertheless, he had more than made the most of the time he had with every woman he fancied and every bit of fast living he could pack in. It was not an attitude Christabel admired. It carried no caring for others.
She wasn’t aware that her face had tightened over the bitter memories until Jared asked, “What are you thinking?”
She lowered her lashes, veiling her expression as she answered, “My husband died in an accident, too. It was a speedboat crash. Human error. Not caused by a storm.”
She sipped the wine, deliberately discouraging any pursuit of that topic, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. It was a mistake to talk about her marriage, except in the vaguest terms. The speedboat accident had been world news. It was a connection to all she wanted to escape from.
“How long ago did this happen?”
Jared’s tone was sympathetic, stirring a savage irony. She didn’t mourn Laurens. He’d lost his taste for her when she’d turned into an undesirable lump and he’d killed any shred of feeling she’d had for him with his subsequent behaviour.
“I was eight months pregnant with Alicia,” she said flatly, careful not to give an actual date.
He seemed to weigh that statement before slowly commenting, “So Alicia never knew her father.”
“I don’t believe she feels any empty place on that score, Jared,” she replied tersely, her chin lifting in defiant challenge.
“You’re all she needs?” he queried.
“We manage well together.”
“And is she all you need, Christabel?”
“She’s all I’ve got,” she answered quickly, trying to ignore the searing look that burrowed under her skin, finding and knowing the empty places he’d talked about and promising they didn’t have to stay empty.
He was here, ready, willing and able to satisfy at least some needs. Tonight, if she gave her consent. And Christabel was once again riven by the strong temptation to do just that, to take what she could while she could. It was what he’d been offering, wasn’t it, with his talk of not counting on an afterwards?
This dangerous train of thought was broken by the return of Vikki Chan, wheeling a traymobile onto the veranda, calling Alicia to her chair and switching on a lantern above the table to light the meal she was about to serve. She then proceeded to set out a platter of honey prawns and a bowl of steaming rice.
“I cooked more than enough for the little one,” she informed Christabel, “so you and Jared can have some as a first course if you like.”
“Thank you. They look very tasty.”
The old woman smiled benevolently at them all. “Help yourselves,” she invited, and left them to it.
There was no doubting that Vikki Chan was a superb cook. The honey prawns were the best Christabel had ever tasted, and Alicia even forgot the storm as she consumed her share with uninhibited pleasure, picking them up with her fingers, arguing they tasted better that way, and Jared agreeing with her.
Since finger bowls were set on the table, Christabel didn’t fuss. Her mind was busily sorting through the impression that Vikki Chan had not been making any judgment of her this time. She hadn’t exactly sensed approval coming from the old Chinese woman, yet there had been a definite acceptance of her being with Jared like this and a warm indulgence towards her daughter.
In between feeding herself, Alicia chatted away with Jared, enjoying his good-humoured attention, and Christabel couldn’t help thinking he would be a good father, kind and caring, making any child of his feel special and loved.
Laurens would have turned their daughter over to an army of nannies, conveniently forgetting she even existed.
The means to an end...that was all his child had meant to her husband...all his wife had meant to him, too.
Special and loved...the words kept drumming through her mind, evoking a fierce surge of need to have Jared make her feel special, make her feel loved.
He instantly turned his gaze to her, as though he was instinctively attuned to her feelings and he’d caught this one right at its crest. Whatever he saw in her eyes, his suddenly blazed with a heat that scorched any denial of what flowed between them.
Her breasts started to prickle with excitement, and a sweet, melting sensation spread towards her thighs. Despite the danger signals her body was sending, she could not wrench her gaze from the hot promise of satisfaction in his. She wanted him to prove that promise, to deliver all she craved from him, making reality of the persistent fantasy that he could and would be the one to make her feel what Laurens had never made her feel, not even on their honeymoon.
Yes...
Jared didn’t say the word out loud but she felt him saying it, heard it throbbing in her mind, running through her bloodstream, zinging along every nerve in her body, building a wild exultant demand that went beyond sanity or common sense.
From behind her came a sudden swirl of wind, ruffling her hair, feathering her skin, and a clap of thunder directly above them made her heart leap, yet still that look from Jared held her, burning with an elemental force that defied other elements.
Vikki Chan reappeared. Alicia kept the old woman busy with conversation. The table was cleared. Alicia had sticky hands and she was invited to the kitchen to clean them properly. Advice was tossed back as they departed.
“Better close the shutters on the south side, Jared. The rain will come in with that wind.”
It all washed over Christabel.
Jared stood up, so tall and handsome and quintessentially male, he was like a magnet, drawing on all her female instincts, forcing the recognition that some things couldn’t be stopped. They were as inevitable as the rain, falling now in heavy drops on the tin roof. The wind caught the loose sides of his white shirt, billowing them out. His tanned skin gleamed under the lantern light.
“The shutters,” he murmured, but he didn’t move and she knew that he, too, was caught in this thrall of compelling attraction, not wanting to break it.
“I’ll help you.” The words spilled from her lips, unbidden, and her legs pushed up from the chair so that she was standing, matching up to him.
“Come with me,” he said.
And she did, her heart pumping wildly as they moved into action together, sharing the task, keenly aware of the mutual feelings driving them.
The shutters were held open by metal rods. These had to be unhooked, lowered, and bolts shot home to secure closure. The wind blew fat splattering raindrops at them as they worked down the southern veranda in tandem—six shutters in all—with Jared, faster than she was, helping her with the last one.
He was so close, close enough for her to smell him, touch him, and she couldn’t bring herself to step away. Her breathing was fast, shallow, out of control. Jared pulled the shutter down and they were enveloped in darkness, a warm, steamy, intimate darkness—the wind and rain shut out, beating at the house but unable to reach them.
She heard the metallic scrape of the last bolt being pushed into place. Everything was fastened down now, safe, except for all the feelings she’d tried to suppress running rampant, urging that the darkness be used to find out what she wanted to know, ached to know.
She heard Jared’s breath whoosh out and knew it carried unbearable, pent-up tension. Then he was turning to face her and every nerve in her body was taut with anticipation, waiting for the first touch, the first proof that it was right for this to happen. It had to be right. It had to be worth breaking all the rules she’d set. It had to be what she’d yearned for in the darkness of other nights, countless other nights that had been filled with endless loneliness.
Take me, she begged in her feverish mind. Take me....
And he did, his arm sweeping around her waist and scooping her against him, plastering her against him as his other hand thrust through her hair, entwining tresses around strong, determined fingers. His chest heaved against the soft squash of her breasts. His thighs felt rock-hard. Then his mouth took hers, pleasuring it with a passion that excited her beyond anything she had known.
He aroused and kept stirring explosive sensations, kiss after kiss, feeding a deep, seemingly bottomless hunger that demanded a feast, not just a taste but an intense savouring of every taste there was. It was so absorbingly wonderful, Christabel revelled in every moment of it, consumed by the sheer power of the greed that seized her, the greed to experience everything there was to be felt with this man.
Her hands were in his hair, clinging to his head, urging the intoxicating intimacy to go on and on. Her body exulted in the hard heat of his, and when he grasped her bottom to lift her into fitting closer to him, it felt so right, so good, knowing how excited he was, wanting the ultimate connection with her, yearning for it every bit as much as she was.
“Stay with me tonight.”
He breathed the words over her tingling lips, words that throbbed their passionate need past the fuzzed edges of her mind, stirring a momentary confusion at the interruption to the silent flow of more immediate needs.
“Stay...” he repeated with raw urgency. “Alicia can be put to bed here.”
Alicia! Where...? Her mind worked sluggishly. Gone with Vikki Chan to clean her hands.
“You want this, too, Christabel.”
His hand on her bottom, pressing recognition of how aroused they both were. There could be no denying what was so self-evident. They both knew it. She wished he hadn’t spoken, wished they had just gone on to...but there wasn’t time now. That was what he meant. Alicia...Vikki Chan bringing the next course of their dinner...How long had she and Jared been locked together like this?
He lifted his head back from hers. “Look at me!”
His eyes were like black coals, glowing at her. He slid his hand from its enmeshment in her hair and gently cupped her cheek. He spoke slowly, softly, using his words like seductive tentacles, winding around her, binding her to him.
“We want each other. There’s nothing wrong in that so just let it be, Christabel. Time to ourselves, doing whatever pleases us, being free of everything else, taking the night and making it our night.”
Being free...just for one night...
“Say yes, Christabel. Say you’ll stay with me.”
“Yes,” she said, impelled by more than Jared would ever know to snatch this time from the life she had to lead, the life that was forever burdened by her blindly naive decision to marry Laurens Kruger. “I want this night with you, Jared.”
One stolen night.
What harm could there be in it?
No harm...just pleasure...with the pleasure King.
And he kissed her again to show her how it would be.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHAT they had started had to be put on hold until later. They were not alone yet, not in any practical sense, but Christabel felt oddly disconnected to being a mother or a guest in the aftermath of losing her long-held guard against the desires Jared King stirred in her.
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