Shock pulsed through Victoria’s bloodstream. Suddenly light-headed, she clung to Seth’s hand as her knees turned to rubber, threatening to give way and dump her at his feet.
His dark eyes narrowed, the generous lips compressed to a grim line and he strengthened his grip, catching her other hand fluttering helplessly like a wounded bird. The concern that darkened his eyes reached right inside her, steadying her.
‘Seth?’
She heard Caine’s question as if it was muffled by water. One hunted glance in his direction was enough for her to grasp his bewilderment. She took a quick, shallow breath, and then another, but this did nothing to stop the hollow sound of blood drumming in her ears.
‘It’s a private joke, Dad.’
Seth’s deep voice pierced her numbness. Some joke!
That closet door jerked wide open as she struggled for a rational explanation, but coherent thought was impossible.
You’re clever, Mummy. Why can’t you find my daddy? Her little boy’s hopeful words pierced Victoria’s cottonwool brain.
My son!
Keir Donovan is my Seth, my son’s father?
Ohmigod!
A chasm opened at her feet, and Victoria looked into the black abyss and knew she teetered on the edge of disaster. One false step …
‘Do you two know each other?’ Logan looked from her to his stepbrother, his brows drawn together in an ominous frown.
The grip on her hands tightened and she grasped Keir’s unspoken warning. The instinctive response to him after all these years left Victoria even more shattered. Oh God! I’m on such treacherous ground.
‘We met several years ago. I’m flattered Victoria even remembers me.’
Not remember him?
His wry humour grated on her emotions, disillusionment rubbed raw, and realising she was still clinging to Keir’s hands Victoria jerked them free. As the numbing shock receded, her mind spun in frantic circles as she groped for a plausible excuse to escape.
This room.
This house.
This man!
‘Where did you meet Victoria, Keir?’ Muriel Donovan’s carefully modulated voice broke the escalating tension.
‘We met one summer a few years back,’ Keir said with imperturbable calm, his velvet eyes brimming with cynical amusement. ‘Victoria was staying with her uncle and aunt at their motor camp at Orere Point while her mother was in hospital.’ He turned to Victoria, his expression softening. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to comfort you after your mother’s death.’
He’s freaking unbelievable.
‘It was a long time ago. My father remarried last year.’ Victoria shrugged and turned to Logan, the need to escape taking precedence over good manners. ‘Can I go to my room, please?’
Logan glanced from her to his mother. ‘Victoria’s come straight from work and needs to freshen up.’
‘Show her upstairs then come back down,’ Muriel said, but her smile didn’t reach her cold, blue eyes.
Victoria’s relief was tempered by the understanding that as Logan’s guest, she wasn’t welcome in his mother’s home. It took every shred of dignity she possessed to walk sedately beside Logan and not throw up her hands and run screaming from the room, from the house. Struggling for an acceptable reason to leave, Victoria took little notice of the luxurious surroundings.
‘Mother wants me to explain why I invited you,’ Logan said with a wry grimace.
‘You invited me? What about the flowers—’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘There was never a chance of me presenting my credentials and portfolio, was there?’
Why didn’t I see this coming?
Bile stung her throat as anger and betrayal fought for supremacy. Logan ignored her question as he opened a door and ushered her into a spacious bedroom. ‘The Emerald Suite.’
Victoria gained a blurred impression of oppressive green before she turned on him. ‘What the hell’s going on, Logan?’
‘You tell me. Meeting Keir really threw you, Victoria. Why?’
As if I can explain?
‘Tell me why that’s any of your business?’
Something dangerous glittered in his eyes. ‘You’re here as my guest, so why wouldn’t I be concerned?’
A convulsive shiver shook Victoria.
It was too late to regret accepting this invitation; that horse had well and truly bolted.
Frightened, she rubbed her hands up and down her chilled arms as she fought back panic. Unable to hold Logan’s keen gaze, she looked everywhere but at him, desperate for inspiration.
Keir Donovan is my baby’s father. That forbidding stranger downstairs doesn’t bear any resemblance to the man I knew. And I came here hoping to secure the commission on the flowers for his wedding.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat. Like that was ever going to happen.
‘I want to go home. Now.’ Victoria nibbled on her lower lip. ‘It’s obvious your mother doesn’t want me here.’
‘She’ll survive.’
Victoria stared at him, surprised and shocked by his cynicism and obvious curiosity.
‘Understand this, Victoria: my mother does not dictate my choice of friends. Besides, if you leave now, don’t you think my family will be mighty curious?’
She swallowed hard but the obstruction in her throat didn’t move. Logan’s words made a sick kind of sense he could never understand. ‘Your brother was rotten to me that summer and I’ve never forgotten.’
As the lie rolled off her tongue, Victoria crossed her fingers, but the superstitious gesture gave her no more comfort than Logan’s quick frown.
‘That’s not like Keir. Once you get past his crusty exterior, you’ll find him kind and honourable.’
Yeah, right! She fought back a burst of panic. Keir Donovan held the power to bring her to her knees.
‘Please stay.’ Logan caught her hands and held them tightly, his expression contrite. ‘I’m sorry I misled you, but you should relax and look at this weekend as a well-deserved break.’
Relax?
With Connor’s father in the next room?
Hysterical laughter threatened Victoria’s self-control.
She wanted nothing more than to shake the dust of Darkhaven from her shoes, but she suspected if she did leave that she’d very soon find her ex-lover on her doorstep. And this was something she needed to prevent, at least until she’d figured out her next move.
‘Okay, I’ll stay.’ She offered up a silent prayer that this was the right decision.
‘Thank you.’ Logan gave her a quick hug. ‘Dinner’s at seven-thirty. I’ll collect you for drinks at six-thirty, okay?’
As the door closed behind him, she stood staring at its panels for long fraught moments before she slumped onto the bed and buried her face in her hands.
What am I going to do?
Anxiety brought Victoria to her feet, and she paced, prey to so many conflicting emotions.
My Seth Donahue is Keir Donovan. He lied to me. Why?
The man she’d known had, to her, epitomised honesty and integrity. Now she was confronted with the irrefutable evidence of his bald-faced lie. What else about those halcyon days was a lie?
Bleak memories surfaced.
Grief-stricken over her mother’s death and bitterly resentful of her father’s deception, it had been months before Victoria realised she was pregnant. Then she began the fruitless search for her lover, but no matter how hard she looked she came up empty-handed. It seemed to her that Seth Donahue had either vanished, or that he didn’t exist.
She gave a cracked laugh. Seth Donahue doesn’t exist, but Keir Donovan sure as hell does.
I was nearer to the truth than I ever suspected.
What was it with the men in her life?
Her father had lied to her about the severity of her mother’s illness and denied her the chance to say goodbye, something Victoria had never forgiven. Now, she faced the repercussions of her lover’s lie.
She huffed a shaken breath. Looking back was an exercise in futility; she had to deal with the present and protect her son, her little boy with his daddy’s sable hair and velvet brown eyes.
Restless, unsettled and worried sick, Victoria let her gaze settle on yet another of Muriel’s ubiquitous silk arrangements.
It offended her sense of creativity.
Without hesitation, she strode over to the antique table and tore the flower arrangement apart. Hands flying, she set about recreating something interesting—well, as interesting as it was possible to be with such blah wherewithal.
Orange-red Oriental poppies formed a central cluster under her dexterous hands, their black eyes a sinister heart—to her fevered imagination they represented Muriel, the disturbing heart of this family. Victoria’s hands stilled. Where the hell did that thought come from?
She didn’t question her instinct. Muriel Donovan with her limpid handshake, cold, ice-blue eyes and steely voice was more than intimidating—she was fearsome and not someone Victoria wanted to cross. Despite Logan’s brave words, she sensed his mother would fight tooth and claw to prevent him marrying someone who didn’t suit her purpose.
This insight unnerved her and she quickly plucked up three dusky salmon poppies and added them to one side of the arrangement. They softened the effect—Caine’s influence?
She shook her head at her fanciful imagination.
To one side, she grouped a handful of pale callistemon. Their stems needed shortening, so she pulled the pair of heavy-duty florist’s shears from her business satchel and ruthlessly trimmed them, humming under her breath. Ready to discard the shorn stems, she stripped the leaves and poked the resultant spikes among the lush petals—and they made a startling contrast.
Several silver foliage spears lay on the table and, with deft fingers, she slotted them in the back to tower over and above everything else—a looming Seth, a powder keg of testosterone.
Nailed it in one, but I’m running scared.
She shook her head, disconcerted. This relaxing weekend had now assumed the mantle of a waking nightmare.
With brutal efficiency, she shortened the stems of the remaining flowers and dropped them on the table, an artless sprawl fading to insignificance—as Logan and his incessant proposals faded to insignificance.
How would Muriel view her creation? Victoria huffed a cracked laugh; Logan’s mother was the least of her worries.
But the burst of creativity had eased her blind panic and allowed logic to kick in. Logan had no valid reason to mention Connor so unless she let it slip, how could Keir Donovan know she’d given birth to his son?
The mellow chime of the wall clock jolted her into the awareness of the time. She needed to hurry if she was to be ready, instinctively knowing it would never do to be late.
As she showered and dressed she worried.
Seth’s unexpected reappearance had yanked open the closet door on memories she’d buried deeply, memories that now resisted every effort to shove them back.
After a gruelling year, at eighteen Victoria had emerged for the summer break as a newly fledged adult with the heady excitement of being crowned college dux, and the proud possessor of a lucrative scholarship to attend Otago University. But the day after Christmas her mother had taken ill, and despite Victoria’s protests, her father had packed her off to spend the summer break with her uncle and aunt so she was fresh for the year ahead.
Victoria winced and her hand stilled the hairbrush halfway down a hank of her thigh-length hair. Even now, I feel sick whenever I think of the lies Dad told me about Mum’s illness.
‘That was yesterday,’ she muttered under her breath as she bent and twisted her hair into the coil needed to contain its bulk in a French pleat. ‘I need to deal with the present.’
This was easier said than done because now, the past had collided with the present.
If I’d never had that holiday, I would never have met Seth … and I wouldn’t have Connor.
‘And I sure as hell wouldn’t be facing this dilemma now,’ she scolded her reflection severely as, with a deft twist of her wrist, she secured the coil of hair in a pleat with a beaten copper pin.
How had Seth managed to get past her uncle’s strict rule about family not fraternising with holiday-makers? Given Seth’s wealth, had he greased her uncle’s palm? Victoria’s instinct was to deny this possibility, and yet what other explanation was there? Uncle Tom had actively encouraged her to spend time with Seth.
No longer naive or eighteen, Victoria knew that men hid base motives behind wealth. Look at how often she delivered flowers to a wife and a mistress in the same delivery run, where she resisted the overwhelming temptation to switch the cards.
She hated to think of her Seth as being numbered among the devious, but the fact remained that she’d spent nearly every waking hour with him. He’d comforted her anxiety over her mother, and he’d soothed her bitter complaints over her father’s rigid rules. And he’d become her first lover.
Victoria closed her eyes—God, she remembered every detail—the pungent odour of sand and salty sea air, the musky scent of Seth’s sun-warmed skin with its hint of mint, the sharp fragrance of crimson pohutukawa petals crushed under their naked bodies—the clarity of her recall sent shivers cascading across her skin.
He ruined me for any other man.
On that last day she’d been too content to worry over his uncharacteristic silence. She paused. She wondered if, back then, he had already been regretting his deception, or was that wishful thinking on her part?
After all this time, would he even believe Connor was his son? Victoria shook her head; her son’s resemblance to Seth was uncanny.
Will he try to claim custody of my son? This was the more pressing fear. He’d have one hell of a fight on his hands if he did, but a shiver of foreboding shook her just the same. Her floristry business earned her a good living, but this was insignificant when measured against Donovan wealth. Besides, it had been Seth’s own deception that kept him ignorant of her pregnancy—there was no fault on her part. But now that fate and Logan had thrown them together, Victoria no longer had that defence. As much as she disliked it, she knew that Seth had rights, parental rights.
‘Keir. Keir! Keir!’ She smacked her forehead with an open palm. ‘The man’s name is Keir. But that makes no odds, he needs to know that Connor is his son.’
The thought of confronting that forbidding stranger made her heart race at a suffocating pace. She scrubbed at her cheeks with shaky hands.
It’s Keir’s right.
That may be so, but the very thought of making such a disclosure while she was a guest in his father’s home—Victoria shuddered.
That Connor’s existence would have far-reaching consequences was not in doubt, but such a stunning disclosure demanded privacy. And such privacy would be impossible here at Darkhaven.
I’d do better to wait until I’m on my own turf, and then I can choose the time and place to tell Keir Donovan he’s a dad, that I gave birth to his child.
A sense of relief slipped over Victoria like a comforting shroud, and with the decision made, she felt better equipped to face the weekend ahead.
She took a long, slow breath and smoothed her palms down the sleek lines of her gown as she checked her reflection in the mirror. She was comforted to know she was appropriately dressed for the company at Darkhaven, and this gave a much-needed boost to her flagging morale. Her gown, a birthday gift from her father and her stepmother, Daphne, was designed by An’Ville, a young up-and-coming Hamilton designer.
Victoria was very fond of her stepmother.
Strong and forceful, Daphne stood up to Andrew, Victoria’s father, and made him respect his daughter and her decisions over Connor.
Victoria couldn’t quite dismiss the niggling worry that Daphne, in the third trimester of her first pregnancy, may find Connor too much of a handful. The little boy was a real live wire and fearless.
‘It’s way overdue that you take some time for yourself,’ Daphne had scolded as she dismissed Victoria’s concern. ‘You’re a great mother, but you need time away from Connor. Go enjoy yourself with congenial adult company. Besides, Andrew needs practice for when the baby comes and Connor will be a great trial run.’
Victoria muffled a choked laugh with her fist.
Congenial?
What was congenial about coming face-to-face with her ex-lover and his fiancée?
The thought filled Victoria with dread. It wouldn’t be pleasant, nor were the primitive emotions that waged war in her breast. The discovery that the rich and powerful Keir Donovan was her Seth Donahue—and engaged to the Strathmore heiress, of all women—was one hell of a curve ball.
Jeez Louise, talk about a bad joke.
A tap on the door brought her spinning around, heart jerking in panic against her ribs.
‘Come in.’
The door opened and Keir entered. He closed the door, leaned against it and raked her from head to toe with those disturbing eyes.
‘Why are you here?’ How could her voice sound so normal when her heart jumped in her chest like a terrified jack rabbit?
‘I need to talk to you. Alone.’ He levered himself away from the door and walked across the carpet, as predatory as a jungle cat.
God, he was magnificent.
His dinner suit, white shirt and black bow tie gave him a sartorial elegance, and he was about as far removed as it was possible to get from the tanned beach boy in the frayed jean shorts that she remembered so well.
Pride kept her chin high and gaze steady.
***
Victoria, here at Darkhaven? How could fate be so unkind? Keir’s heart thudded against his breastbone as he moved further into the room with slow steps, not at all sure he should even be here, or if it was wise to test his control in this way.
Her hair, a beautiful, soft sugar brown, was pulled back in an intricate knot, the style showing off the perfect oval of her face and the long slender column of her neck.
She was a siren in red.
Her gown clung to her like a second skin, flaring to show off very shapely calves and ankles. Pearl studs gleamed in her ears and a matching string reached past her navel. They were understated, but their lustre was enough for him to know they were as real as the woman wearing them.
Oh, she was nervous of him and his intentions. The pulse at the base of her throat was a frantic throb against her delicate skin. Her eyes, that amazing colour somewhere between hazel and gold, were open impossibly wide, wary and distrustful. Her lips, so soft and full, were slightly parted, but it was the tiny mole at the corner of her mouth that had him sucking in a shallow breath. He’d kissed that mole. He’d kissed that mouth and that mouth had caressed him in so many intimate …
God! No! He couldn’t think it, much less say it.
It should be easy to see her. It had been more than six years, but it seemed like only minutes had elapsed since he’d watched her aunt bundle her into a car and drive her away and out of his life.
She was older now, a woman. Not a girl.
The difference was in the tiny lines around her eyes and beside her mouth. Laughter lines—the girl he remembered was always smiling. She’d filled out in all the right places, too.
But she was here, a guest in his father’s house, and his stepbrother’s serious girlfriend if Logan was to be believed. To add to Keir’s discomfort, she was totally at ease at Darkhaven, something he’d never managed, although technically it was his home. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to see her again, and he could see that she didn’t look too thrilled to see him, either.
‘Where has the innocent little virgin gone?’
‘She grew up. Where did the beach boy go?’ No one else had a voice quite like hers, husky and honey smooth.
‘Into a beautiful woman, my brother’s woman.’ This was something that chafed beyond bearing.
‘Logan and I are friends.’ Vinegar edged the honey in her voice, and her pointed, little chin lifted a fraction.
Friends? Friends? The thought was enough to make him see red, literally.
‘Tell me, Keir, where did Seth Donahue disappear to?’
He cursed the heat running up his neck to his face. ‘I had my reasons back then, good reasons. So why are you here at Darkhaven?’
She smiled, not the warm, genuine smile of his memories, but one that held an edge of scorn. ‘Would you believe I wanted to put in a bid to do the flowers for your wedding? I came here to present my credentials and portfolio to your bride.’
She what?
Suddenly, he could see an image of Victoria fussing around Davina, pulling at a flower here and tweaking a flower there, and all the while he was remembering ...
That image was enough to make his brain explode, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen.
‘I’m sure Davina will welcome an amateur messing with her wedding.’
‘Amateur?’ Victoria’s head came up and her eyes turned molten gold. It was a miracle her fury didn’t char him to a cinder where he stood.
‘I’m no amateur, Keir.’ The frigid words battered him like giant hailstones. ‘Nor does Victorian Grace produce unprofessional work.’
She turned and stalked across the room.
Good God!
Deceptively demure in the front, that sexy little number had no damn back. He could see the dimples in her spine just above her delectable derrière. What the hell did she have on underneath it? All his blood went south and his libido chose that moment to sit up and say hello, remember me? Logan would have to battle every randy dog, himself included, to keep their hands off Victoria in that gown.
Shit! I do not need this.
The sound of a portfolio being slammed onto the hideous green bedspread jerked his wayward thoughts back into line.
‘Name one single thing about these floral arrangements that is either substandard or amateurish.’
The martial light in her eyes had him obeying the summons. He walked across to the bed and looked down at the photos. Even to his jaundiced eye, he could see they were superb. He held up both hands. ‘Okay. Okay. I apologise. But I sincerely doubt Davina would welcome one of my ex-lovers being in any way involved with our wedding.’
Victoria’s eyes went dark and her generous lips curved into a smile that ratcheted up his wariness by several notches.
‘But, Keir, that could surely pose a real difficulty,’ her feline purr made every hair on his body stand to attention. ‘If you were to omit every one of your former lovers from your wedding, could you find enough people to do the catering?’
Ouch! The little sex kitten had grown claws. The breath he sucked in was loud in the pregnant stillness. ‘You are so very funny, Victoria.’
‘And you, Keir Donovan, are a lying bastard.’
‘Touché!’ He flung up a hand and heat surged up his neck again. ‘So why not cut to the chase? Why are you here at Darkhaven? Are you out for revenge?’
‘Revenge?’
Good. She looked suitably taken aback and he mocked softly, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’
Where was all this bitter anger coming from? Anyone would think he’d taken advantage of her. His memories were obviously different to hers. She may have been a virgin, but she’d very quickly become a sex kitten, and one with a kinky bent at that. Was she ashamed of the past and trying to rewrite history? Cynicism replaced his wariness. And I thought she was different.
‘What’s to forget? As a man you’re so very forgettable.’
The disdain dripping from her voice rubbed against his temper. He took a step towards her, his fist clenched. But he became enmeshed in the jarring familiarity of the fragrance that swirled around her and it made his heart stall and then thunder in his chest.
She still wore the same perfume, one he would recognise anywhere.
He remembered presenting her with her very first flacon of that particular French perfume, and she still used it? Disbelief mingled with far less civilised thoughts. The image of other men enjoying her body bathed in that perfume was enough to drive him insane. That such anger was irrational made him all the more ready to lash out. Keir prided himself on his self-control, yet a few minutes with Victoria exposed huge cracks in this facade.
‘Have you told Logan you’ve been my lover?’ he asked harshly.
‘Really, Keir, why would I do that?’ she asked, giving a derisive little sniff.
Suddenly, the ticking of the wall clock was overly loud, and the muscles in his jaw ached as he fought emotions careening out of control. Watching her stand there, a knowing smile curving her lips, pushed all his buttons. ‘Don’t be tempted to cause trouble this weekend.’
She touched a slender finger to the corner of her mouth, and the provocative gesture threatened to send his blood pressure off the charts. ‘What sort of trouble do you have in mind?’
The sultry purr sent heat surging up his neck and his blood down south. ‘Don’t use my sins to hurt Logan.’
That garnered a response as anger and some other dark emotion swirled in her eyes. ‘I would never hurt your stepbrother.’
He cut her off. ‘He’s in love with you.’
Surprise, shock and then derision crossed her expressive face in quick succession. ‘That’s rich, coming from a family who’s pressuring Logan to marry and cement a financial merger. I’ve told him I won’t marry him.’
‘If that’s the case then why in hell are you here?’ Frustrated beyond bearing, Keir leaned past her and picked up a comb from the dresser and bent it between his fingers.
‘Because I was invited as Logan’s guest.’
Her amusement made him apply savage pressure to the comb. Afraid he’d break it, he flung it back onto the dresser. ‘It would be better for everyone concerned if you made some excuse and left.’
It was rude and ungracious, and his father would have his head on a platter if he heard Keir speak to any guest this way, but Keir was beyond caring. He wanted this woman and the temptation she presented gone from Darkhaven and his life.
‘Better for whom?’ she asked sweetly. ‘You? Your adoring fiancée? Your oh-so-charming stepmother?’
Despite the hot, furious anger that coursed darkly through his veins, the thought of Victoria falling foul of Muriel made him nervous and he needed to warn her. ‘There’s nothing charming about Muriel, Victoria. Forget that at your peril.’
‘You mean she doesn’t pander to your ego? How devastating for you,’ she said with a mocking laugh. ‘Tell me, do you make a habit of seducing virgins using the safety net of a bogus name?’
Her claws were well and truly out, and she wasn’t averse to drawing blood. He scowled at her. ‘Nothing about that holiday gives me pleasure.’
Her chin jerked and her eyes went dark. ‘Would your fiancée, or father, be so understanding?’
Her words slammed against old hurts and a crap-load of guilt, making him grip her shoulders so hard she winced. ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’
She yanked free of his hold as she said through clenched teeth, ‘Now there’s a thought, but I don’t deal in lies or underhand behaviour.’
He smiled a smile his adversaries in the business world knew well. ‘Did you imagine you could come here and make capital out of our little summer fling?’
It was cruel, and when he saw the stricken expression she couldn’t quite disguise he felt a momentary pang of regret, but Victoria needed to understand that she had no future with him. Eventually, she would thank him. He was committed to Davina and a settled future.
Victoria stiffened, and she lifted her chin to respond in kind. ‘Really, Keir, why on earth would I choose to publicise what I now realise was a dismal and unmemorable little affair?’
The contemptuous words made fury fizz through his veins. He caught her shoulders again before she could evade him and hauled her close against his chest. He felt rather than heard her shocked intake of breath.
‘Let me go.’
‘Unmemorable?’ He subdued her struggles with devastating ease and lifted her chin. ‘You think ours was a dismal affair?’ The last word was swallowed as he crushed her mouth beneath his, consumed by an ungovernable rage.
***
Too late, Victoria regretted her scornful wounding of Keir’s male pride, and she was more than a little shocked by his violence and the haze of anger swirling around him. When he lifted his head, her lips were numb and swollen and her throat ached with unshed tears. As he looked at her his expression softened and his dark eyes filled with guilt and regret.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, touching a finger to her lips. ‘That was uncalled for.’
His fingers slid along her jaw, tilting her face, the gentleness of his touch overwhelming all thoughts of resistance. She looked up at him through her lashes, and for one long moment their gazes met and the air between them shimmered.
She took a quick, shallow breath.
With a soft imprecation, he reclaimed her mouth in a kiss so tender and gentle and so exquisitely sweet, she was lost. She forgot everything except the need to get even closer, a need that time had never erased. Fire raced through her veins, fizzing and dancing as it skipped along remembered pathways.
Her insides melted as heat pooled in her belly.
Keir’s grip tightened until she was crushed against his chest and the fabric of her gown abraded nipples pebbled with desire.
His arms unlocked and large hands framed her face as he slowly lifted his head. He studied her face through half-closed eyelids before he dropped tiny, intoxicating kisses all over her face.
‘Still the same seductive little witch,’ he said, a husky thread of arousal lingering in his voice.
He released her. Shattered by her body’s response to his kisses, Victoria could only stare at him, unable to think or react. She took shallow, ragged breaths that did nothing to calm her agitation. Finally, she turned away from him, covering her hot cheeks with trembling hands. How could she return his kisses with such wanton abandon when he was committed to another woman?
What does that say about me?
‘Get out of my room, Seth.’ Her voice trembled, but she refused to look at him, afraid of what she would reveal.
‘It’s Keir, sweetheart. And I’m going.’
He crossed to the door and paused, hand on the knob.
Sensing the heat of his regard, she lifted her head and looked at him in the mirror. For long, endless moments their gazes met and held.
And then he was gone.
Slowly, she dared to look at her reflection. Damn him!
Alone, with that closet door yanked wide open, and filled with an aching need she didn’t know how to satisfy, Victoria could do nothing to stop all the messy emotions spilling around her feet, emotions she’d bottled up for years.
God help me, I can only pray they don’t trip me up.
She sighed, a soft, tormented sound, as she was forced to confront the bleak self-knowledge of just why she had so steadfastly refused Logan’s proposals.