The Rich Man's Blackmailed Mistress Page 8

  Sable stared out at the rolling countryside, a thriving community of large country estates and working farms. Its mild climate, proximity to the coastline and Auckland, and above all its beauty made it a magnet for those rich enough to afford it, the well-manicured prosperity tempered only by a touch of raw New Zealand in the range of forest-covered hills that protected it from cold southerlies.

  The oppressive silence in the car weighed her down. She was under attack, yet she had no way of protecting herself.

  Kain slowed the car and turned down a gravel side road. That sensation of imminent danger intensified. Bracing herself, she said steadily, ‘Look, you must know that this is a mad idea. You risk alienating Brent for ever—’

  He cut her off without finesse. ‘I know my cousin. Once he’s accepted that we’re in love—even temporarily—he’ll wish us all the best and find someone else to play with.’

  ‘Even if you’re right—’

  ‘I’m right.’

  He eased the car around a tight corner, and the last golden rays of summer sun caught her full in the face. It gave her the excuse to shade her face from him while they headed for the west coast. The country got steeper and wilder as the road narrowed, and the light sharpened, became infused with an intensity that spoke of the sea.

  Twin stone posts marked the end of the road—of civilisation, she thought with a foolish shudder. Just inside them the drive forked.

  ‘The farm houses are along there,’ Kain said with a brief gesture.

  Was he trying to reassure her? From then on the drive dwindled into two gravelled wheel tracks with a strip of rank grass between them. They passed through a pine plantation, emerging onto more paddocks. It seemed a long time since she’d seen any sign of a house.

  ‘Where is this?’ she asked thinly.

  Kain pulled in and stopped the car beneath an oak tree, one spread so wide it had probably been planted a century ago by an early settler. Its shade enclosed them in an umbrella of twilight.

  Sable stiffened and turned her head away. The cattle in the nearest paddock—huge creamy things without horns—lifted their heads in mild interest, then resumed chewing the grass.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Kain asked abruptly, hard gaze on her profile.

  Sable said on a rising note, ‘What’s the matter? Oh, nothing, except that I’m travelling who knows where with a man who’s forced me into being here.’ And only she appreciated the bitter irony of that! ‘I don’t even know where here is! Nobody knows where I am, or who I’m with, and you expect me to accept that without any qualms?’

  His broad shoulders moved in a slight, careless shrug. ‘Stop being so overdramatic. I don’t plan to strangle you and throw you over a cliff.’

  Grimly, enunciating each word through clenched teeth, she said, ‘How do I know that?’

  He reached into his pocket and tossed a cell phone at her. Her hands curved around it, warm from his body, a sleek, ultra-sophisticated thing. An odd sensation shot through her—part yearning for something that had never existed, part anger at his total lack of understanding.

  And part irritation with herself because she didn’t really fear for her safety—not her physical safety, anyway. What threatened her was something even more scary; although she was furious with him, deeper than that was a kind of hurt because he’d not only had her investigated, but he’d believed every sordid piece of gossip his private detective had brought to him.

  Common sense told her not to be stupid. He didn’t know her, and clearly he thought she posed a threat to Brent.

  But some weak, romantic part of her mourned that she trusted him enough not to be a rapist and murderer, whereas he thought the very worst of her.

  ‘Ring anyone you like and tell them where you are and who you’re with,’ he commanded.

  She glanced across at him, met eyes the icy grey of a glacier, and shivered again. Giving into the inevitable, she silently entered a friend’s number, mutely cursing when the answering machine delivered her friend’s bubbly message.

  ‘Hi, Libby, it’s me,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s five-thirty-five in the afternoon on Saturday, and we’re off to the beach for the weekend at—’

  She stopped, because she had no idea where they were going.

  ‘Paritutu,’ Kain said crisply, and took the phone from her fingers. ‘Libby, Kain Gerard. We haven’t met yet, but we will. I’m taking Sable to Paritutu on the west coast where I have a bach. If you need to contact her, here’s the number.’ He gave it then stowed the phone away again.

  Somewhat reassured, she said brusquely, ‘Thank you.’ Then added impulsively, ‘Why did you do that?’

  He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘What?’

  ‘You had no need to leave Libby a message. She’s going to be agog…’

  ‘This is supposed to be a normal relationship between normal people,’ he stated, his gaze level and intimidating. ‘That means we meet each other’s friends and family.’

  ‘I have none,’ she blurted. ‘No family, anyway.’

  And immediately wished she’d held the words back.

  ‘Mine certainly make their presence felt,’ he said dryly, putting the car into gear.

  A thought struck her as they pulled out into the sunlight. Before she could reconsider her hasty words, she said, ‘I hope you believed me when I told you that I wasn’t going to sleep with you. All I’m prepared to give to this nasty little plan of yours is my physical presence.’

  ‘I want more than that,’ he said curtly.

  ‘Then you can forget—’

  ‘Not sex.’ His tone was icy with contempt. ‘But after this weekend we’ll be living in my apartment and I’ll want your complete co-operation in acting the part of my lover.’

  Shaken by the uncompromising tone of his voice she turned her head away to stare unseeingly out of the side window.

  Kain went on, ‘So you’ll stop flinching when I come near you, and make it obvious instead that you’re in love with me—or at the very least madly attracted.’ After a charged pause he went on with coolly delivered insolence, ‘I’m sure you can do that.’

  Heat stung her cheeks when the innuendo registered. Of course he knew she’d wanted him; her response to his kisses had been incandescent and terrifying. Rallying, she returned sweetly, ‘Of course I can. Tell me, do you despise all women, or is it just me?’

  ‘I despise dishonesty.’ The hardness in his voice turned into cynicism as he added, ‘On the other hand, I respect you for your enterprise.’

  Lethally Sable purred, ‘That’s really, really big of you. Should I be grateful for that tiny instance of esteem?’

  He surprised her by laughing, and to her chagrin it had real amusement in it. Of course it was easy to be in a good humour when you held all the good cards, she thought savagely.

  And were ruthless enough to use blackmail to get whatever you wanted.

  ‘Tell me about yourself,’ he said, a lazy note of command reinforcing his position of power.

  ‘Why? You’ve already been briefed on my character, apparently. You appear to believe you know everything about me—what more could I add?’

  ‘I know the facts.’ His tone reinforced his belief in them.

  ‘If you think that more or less kidnapping me gives you the right to anything more than bare supposed facts, I’m afraid you’re greatly mistaken.’

  Where on earth had she produced the courage for that?

  The knowledge she could hold her own—even temporarily—gave her the inducement to finish on a note of sarcasm, ‘Since you’ve forced it onto me I’ll endure this grubby charade, but I don’t have to enjoy it, and I certainly don’t have to spill everything about myself. After all, why should I? You’ve decided what sort of person I am and nothing I say will make you change your mind.’

  He sent her a slanted glance. ‘One thing I didn’t learn about you is that you have a tongue like a viper,’ he said appreciatively.

  Before she could answer they crested a
hill, and she breathed out a long, involuntary sigh.

  ‘Welcome to Paritutu,’ Kain said, slowing the car to a stop.

  CHAPTER SIX

  UNLIKE Kain’s homestead on the other coast, Paritutu faced a wilder, empty ocean; no islands, no vessels broke the wide sweep of horizon, and waves marched onto the crescent of burnished black sand with disciplined, military precision, only to collapse into a white chaos of breakers. These hills were higher than those that surrounded Totara Bay, their gullies deeper, and the trees that clothed them crouched against the slopes, sculpted by winds that had made landfall after travelling across unsailed seas.

  ‘What does Paritutu mean?’ Sable asked, desperate to break the silence.

  ‘Pari is cliff, tutu erect. Sheer cliff.’ Kain indicated the southern headland, rockbound and frowning. ‘The Maori used to call the west coast the warrior coast because it’s stern and unforgiving and keeping yourself alive both on shore and the sea requires constant vigilance.’

  ‘And what did they call the east coast?’

  ‘With its estuaries and islands and long sheltering peninsulas, its nurturing fisheries and beaches teeming with seafood, what else but the feminine coast?’ His tone turned the query into a taunt.

  ‘Typical male chauvinists,’ Sable returned, hoping the astringent words hid her embarrassing feeling of apprehensive excitement as he set the car in motion. The road twisted down towards a building she could just see amongst the pohutukawa and manuka bush.

  It was humiliating to detest him with all the force of justified outrage, yet be aware of him so intensely it permeated every cell in her body, right to the tips of her toes.

  What would she do if he decided to kiss her again? Slapping his face would merely make her look an idiot, because she doubted very much whether she’d be able to stay stiff and unresponsive. Even thinking about the open mastery of his kisses sent hot little shivers coursing through her, melting her apprehension into something appallingly close to anticipation.

  Disgusted with herself, she concentrated on the scenery.

  ‘Pre-European Maori certainly believed that men and women had different roles,’ he agreed, ‘as did Europeans of the same period. However, the Maori respected warlike women and those who gave good counsel as well as those who stuck to the traditional female roles.’

  Just in time she stopped herself from saying, ‘Big of them.’ After all, the ancient Maori tribes with their rich culture weren’t the focus of her anger.

  Instead she asked, ‘Do you have Maori ancestry?’

  ‘Pacific Island. The original Gerard was French; he eloped with a paramount chief’s daughter from Tahiti who just happened to be promised to another chief, so they had to flee to New Zealand. They settled at Totara Bay.’

  No wonder he had hair as black as jet and those arrogantly aristocratic features—the mixture of Polynesian and French bloodlines had produced a superbly handsome man, she thought, trying hard to be snide instead of intrigued.

  Fascinated in spite of herself, she said, ‘Was that her portrait in the hall at Totara Bay?’

  ‘Yes. Family legend has it that they fought like tigers, but after she died in childbirth he didn’t marry again.’

  ‘Who brought up the child?’

  ‘His sister came out from France.’

  He sounded surprised. Because she’d thought of the child? Sable conquered a fresh spurt of indignation.

  ‘She was a nun,’ he went on. ‘Strict but loving, apparently; anyway, she stayed fifteen years before going back to her convent.’

  He braked as a small flock of birds flew up from the road. Sable braced herself, then twisted to scan the road behind for small corpses. Relieved, she said, ‘You missed them all.’

  ‘Good,’ he said, adding, ‘The original house—a very primitive nikau whare—still exists behind the homestead at Totara Bay. If you’re interested I’ll show you when we go back.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said primly.

  ‘History interests you?’

  Guardedly she admitted, ‘Yes—especially personal history.’ Perhaps because she knew nothing of her own; her father had never talked about his family or her mother’s.

  She glanced at him, the beautifully chiselled profile angular against the sombre coastal forest and remained silent until the bach came into view.

  ‘Bach?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Baches are usually tiny!’

  This house was not. Starkly modern, it didn’t so much blend into the land and seascape as become part of it, its angles and stained wooden exterior a fitting foil for this wild area.

  It couldn’t have been a greater contrast to the Totara Bay homestead, all Victorian grace and charm.

  ‘Did you build this?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, to a design by Philip Angove.’

  He said nothing more, but she thought the house and the place he’d chosen for it gave her an insight into his complex character that nothing else had done. The homestead had been his ancestors’—this was his own personal project, reflecting his tastes in a very individual way.

  So why had he brought her here?

  Still in silence they came to a stop outside the garage; he pressed a button and the door slid up to let them in, and down again behind them. Shut in the semi-darkness with him, Sable shivered.

  ‘Here we are,’ Kain said without any expression, and got out.

  He hated her being here. Sable could feel it. This was the place of his heart, and he despised her.

  How far was he prepared to go to protect his cousin?

  What would it be like to have that powerful protective instinct directed at her?

  Not ever going to happen, she thought, cold with something horribly close to desolation. She was the enemy, the intruder, the scoundrelly unwanted alien. Feeling more alone than she’d ever felt in her life, she resisted the temptation to stay stubbornly put; she wouldn’t put it past him to leave her there.

  Or to haul her out.

  And that sent a honeyed, surreptitious shiver through her that warned her of her susceptibility. Gritting her teeth, she opened her door before he got there and swung her legs out, setting her chin at a defiant angle.

  It was wasted. He stopped at the boot and took out her backpack and his own small bag. ‘Ready?’

  Sable’s throat closed. The simple word seemed heavy with meaning, but she shied away from its implications. Swallowing, she said dryly, ‘As ready as I’m likely to be.’

  Inside, the house was every bit as dramatic as its exterior. Kain took her into a vast living room, its glass walls opening out onto a wide wooden deck that overlooked both the bush and the beach.

  He dumped her backpack and his bag onto a sofa and went across to the doors, pushing them back to open the room to the wild scenery outside. A gust of fresh, salt-scented breeze swept into the room.

  Silently Sable walked out onto the deck, inhaling air so fresh it filled her with a kind of wild exultation at the untrammelled force of nature. Waves hammered onto the ebony sand, the clash of water and land setting free a haze of vapour that hung over the breakers like a veil.

  From behind her Kain asked, ‘How good a swimmer are you?’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said, adding, ‘But I haven’t swum in surf like this before.’

  ‘It’s different. Will you be afraid?’

  She almost said, Not of the waves, but stopped the words before they could emerge.

  Because she was not afraid of him.

  If she was scared of anything it was her fierce response to him. It made her feel like someone else, a woman with no control over her feelings or actions—like her father when he’d been drunk.

  And that was unbearable.

  ‘Not afraid,’ she said briskly, ‘just cautious.’

  He said, ‘In that case you should be fine. I won’t let you drown, anyway.’ He hefted her backpack and nodded towards a door. ‘The bedrooms are through there. Mine is the first on the right. Come and choose one for yourself and
I’ll make up the bed.’

  The thought of him making her bed was so charged with tantalising impact that her mind shied away from it. ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she returned, surprised that he didn’t have menials to do the housework. ‘You can tell me where the linen is and I’ll do it myself.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘Becoming reconciled, Sable?’

  How did he make her name sound like a prelude to seduction? She stiffened her spine and said with brittle poise, ‘No.’

  And if he thought she was going to choose the most distant bedroom from his he was mistaken; that would be too obvious. Right then she needed all the dignity she could summon. Of the four bedrooms she deliberately picked the second furthest away.

  Once he’d left she pushed open the doors onto a deck and stepped out. The room had a magnificent sea view above the rounded domes of the huge pohutukawa trees that bordered this rocky end of the beach. She’d just put her backpack onto a chair when he returned, surprising her by carrying a pile of sheets and towels and pillowslips.

  Casually he dropped them onto the big bed. ‘The bathroom is through that door.’ He indicated a door in the wall. ‘It’s an en suite, so you won’t have to share with me.’

  ‘You have no idea how overjoyed I am at that,’ she said dulcetly, fighting back a vision of him in the shower, sleek with water glistening over that tanned skin…

  His grin was sheer magic—charismatic, amused and infuriatingly knowing, as though he could read her mind. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’d manage even that with admirable resourcefulness,’ he drawled.

  Cheeks hot, she returned, ‘Thank you.’ But when he jerked back the coverlet she blurted, ‘I told you I’d make my own bed.’ She stared at him, wishing he’d get out of the room, away from her, give her some respite from his overwhelming presence so that she could regroup her defences.

  He inclined his head. ‘Then I’ll see you in twenty minutes or so.’

  Somehow he managed to make it sound like an order. Resentfully she watched him leave the room, lowering her lashes to hide a gaze smouldering with a chaotic mixture of frustration and something treacherous she knew to be desire.