Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HE LIVING ROOM of the cottage felt too small, too claustrophobic. Maude felt as if she couldn’t get enough air. Dominic Lancaster was standing in the middle of the room, filling the entire space with the taut electricity of his presence, and it was hard for her to think.
She’d thought she’d been prepared for him, but of course she wasn’t.
She’d hurried into the cottage as his helicopter had come in to land, racing into her bedroom to pull out one of the few dresses she owned that she could still wear, a red one Irinka had once told her had looked beautiful on her.
Certainly, when she’d pulled open the door to his knock and his gaze had dropped to the neckline of the dress, she’d felt a small burst of satisfaction. That was until she’d taken him in and realised that no amount of preparing herself for meeting him was going to be enough.
He was in a suit today, perfectly tailored to his tall, powerful figure. It was of dark grey, with a black business shirt, and with a silk tie of washed gold. Beautiful clothes for the most beautiful man.
And he was beautiful. Not a god of the forest today, but a god of industry, or business. Zeus presiding on Olympus, using the power of his charisma and authority to dominate the other gods.
Her heart had begun to beat fast, and she’d forgotten everything she’d meant to do, all the demands she’d meant to make. She’d intended to take control of the conversation, but he’d taken it instead, laying out his demands and leaving her to protest in a pathetic knee-jerk reaction.
It made her feel childish to have to say no like that, but what else could she do? She’d told him why she wanted to stay here, had let some of her passion for the forest show in her voice and she’d thought that might sway him.
But it hadn’t, she could see it in his eyes.
He’d been right to warn her. She’d let slip too much and he was far too astute a businessman not to use that against her. Her plans for seducing him into not selling the house and leaving their baby with her probably wouldn’t work either, not when she didn’t have the experience to play that game.
There is another option: refuse to play.
The thought whispered in her head, appealing to the broad streak of stubborn inside her. He was bending her to his will with all this talk of deals, trying to make her use his language, operate by his rules. And she’d fallen into it without thinking.
But she wasn’t a dealmaker and she didn’t negotiate. She was a free spirit and he couldn’t force her to be what he wanted her to be. She had to be herself.
Maude took a breath. ‘No,’ she said.
‘No?’ One winged black brow rose. ‘What do you mean no?’
‘I mean, I’m not coming to live with you anywhere.’
His dark eyes glittered. ‘Then I will sell Darkfell.’
‘Fine. Sell it.’ She lifted her chin, her heart beating suddenly far too fast. ‘I’ll continue to live in the cottage.’
‘I have money, nymph. More money and power than you can imagine. You think I won’t use them to—’
‘Do it,’ she interrupted, digging down into that stubborn streak of hers. ‘Get your lawyers. Sell this house. Have the police come to the door and try to arrest the woman pregnant with your child.’
The lines of his face had hardened, the air in the sitting room full of his thick, crackling anger. He looked like Zeus ready to pick up his thunderbolt and hurl it straight at her.
It was exhilarating to affect him this way, to make his bored, jaded mask slip a little.
‘I’m not playing your game,’ she said into the seething, tense silence. ‘I won’t. I’ve done what other people wanted me to do all my life and I’m not doing it now. This is too important.’
‘Important to whom?’ There was a certain lethal softness in his voice. ‘Is this little performance really for your child’s benefit or for your own?’
That caught at her in a place she wasn’t expecting, a vulnerable place, making a thread of doubt wind through her. This was supposed to be about her child and yet...
You were brought up in Earthsong by your mother, because she wanted to stay. It wasn’t about what was best for you, was it?
Selfish, that was what her grandparents had always said about her mother. Selfish of Sonya to bring Maude up in a place where there was no formal schooling and no other children, either. Living in the commune had been lonely, and Sonya had left a large portion of Maude’s care with other people, if any were around. Most of the time she’d been left on her own.
Was she the one being selfish now? With her own child? Forcing her or him into a way of life that they might not necessarily want or might not be the best for them?
Maude turned around abruptly, facing the fireplace, not wanting her doubt to show, and especially not since he’d already warned her once about that.
She didn’t want to be a mother like her own, who’d cared more about herself and what she wanted than she had about what was right for Maude. So...maybe her child would be better off in London. Dominic could certainly give him or her a much better life than Maude could give them on her own. And living in London didn’t mean they had to be apart from nature. There were plenty of woods and lakes and wild places that were within easy reach of London, as he’d already said.
Abruptly, the familiar, intoxicating scent of the forest surrounded her and she knew he was there. She could sense him standing behind her and close. Like one of those mighty oaks in the forest, tall and strong. And she had the oddest urge to lean back into him and take some of his strength for herself, because she was coming to the end of hers and pure stubbornness wasn’t a good enough reason to keep fighting him.
‘Maude,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me why this is so important to you.’
Dominic had made an error somewhere along the line and he knew it. He’d known it the moment she’d turned away suddenly, his little barb about her passionate outburst obviously landing somewhere painful.
He hadn’t known what hurting her would do to him, because if he’d known, he wouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t expected to feel as if he’d kicked something small and vulnerable, and purely for cruelty’s sake.
He couldn’t believe he’d done the same thing as he had last week, letting himself be drawn into a fruitless argument because she was so stubborn, and then nearly losing his temper because she wouldn’t give in and because no one said no to him.
The problem was, she’d called his bluff. She’d absolutely refused to negotiate, leaving him no choice but to bring out the threat of lawyers, knowing, even as he’d said it, that he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t going to tear the child away from her or trespass her from Darkfell.
He wanted to sell this place, that was true, get rid of the last vestiges of his father, but it surely didn’t matter when he sold it. It wasn’t as if he needed the money. He was insisting purely because she aggravated him so much.
He was letting his emotions get the better of him.
He wasn’t in the habit of caring about other people’s feelings, so it was odd to care about hers. Or at least to have her hurt bother him as much as it did. Perhaps it was because of that passion, that sincerity. The honesty burning in her eyes as she’d told him that nature, the forest, was important to her.
It was foreign to him, that honesty, that sincerity. In the past, in the boardroom, they had been ammunition in the negotiating war, and he’d used both to win. But he wasn’t in a boardroom now, and she wasn’t a businessperson who knew the rules of engagement.
She was pregnant and it wasn’t a deal they were negotiating, but what would happen when their child was born. She was right, this was important, and they needed to find an understanding between them, not relentless arguing.
So his request to know why she was so insistent about staying here had been a start of the bridge they had to build between them, a small olive branch to begin with. Also, he was curious.
She didn’t move and he realised he was closer to her than he should be. Enough to be aware of the scent of lavender that seemed to come from her hair and another delicate, very feminine scent that was uniquely her own.
It made his mouth water, woke everything male in him into a state of almost painful alertness.
‘I grew up close to nature,’ she said, without turning around. ‘I spent a lot of time in the commune’s gardens and in the woods nearby. It was a...child’s paradise. The commune didn’t have a school or lessons of any kind, so I was free to follow my own interests. Then my grandparents took me away to live with them. And there were schools and lessons and timetables and...rules. I tried to live with them, tried to fit in, but it never felt the same as being in the commune. It never felt like...home. Not the way the forest does.’
Finally, she turned around and looked up at him, her brown eyes dark, the forest pool shadowed. ‘I wanted that for our child. I wanted him or her to experience the same freedom I had at Earthsong, to not be bound by rules and timetables, even if it’s only for a short time.’ Slowly the gold in her eyes began brightening. ‘It’s important for our future society that we come to an understanding with nature, with this planet we live on. Because this is our home, and we need to take care of it.’
Dominic found himself momentarily transfixed, caught by the passion in her voice and the glitter of it in her eyes. And he realised, almost with shock, that although she’d revealed a significant vulnerability to him, he wasn’t going to exploit it for his own gain, use it against her to get what he wanted.
And not only he wouldn’t—he couldn’t .
She believed what she said, believed in it totally, and her refusal to play the little game he’d started made him feel something akin to shame for his own part in it. She had more integrity than he did, it seemed, and part of him admired her for it.
‘Then,’ he said quietly, ‘you should stay here.’
She blinked, as if she didn’t quite understand what he’d said. ‘You mean stay here? In the cottage?’
‘Yes.’
‘But what about selling Darkfell? I thought you were adamant the child has to live with you.’
‘I’ll hold off selling the house for now.’ He was still standing far too close to her, and it was all he could do to keep his gaze on her face and not the neckline of her dress. ‘All of this is a moot point until the child is born anyway. We can decide what the future will look like then.’
Shock rippled over her features and he couldn’t deny that pleased him. ‘I don’t understand. What changed your mind?’
‘You did,’ he said simply.
‘But I didn’t offer you anything.’
‘You did, though. You offered me your honesty and your sincerity, and I found that a...compelling argument.’
Her forehead creased. ‘Why?’
‘Because honesty is a scarce commodity in my world. So is sincerity. It’s refreshing.’
She studied him for a long moment, the currents of her emotions shifting and changing in her eyes. ‘It wasn’t honesty that I was going to offer you,’ she said at last.
A soft husk now threaded through her voice, making everything in him go very still. ‘Oh?’ he murmured. ‘And what was it that you were going to offer me?’
Colour flushed her cheeks. ‘You changed your mind without it, so I don’t need to offer it now.’
A sharp electric jolt went through him, as if he were a hunter and had suddenly caught the scent of prey. Surely she could not be saying what he thought she was saying? ‘Now who’s playing games?’ he said softly. ‘Tell me.’
Her mouth curved in a smile that maddened him, as if she knew a secret that he didn’t, which was impossible. Because if, as he suspected, she’d been intending to offer him her body, then there was nothing he didn’t know. He’d been playing the game of sex and seduction for decades now and he knew everything there was to know about it. Certainly more than this little nymph did.
‘If I tell you, that’ll leave me with nothing to use against you later.’ Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then back up again. ‘I need to have something in reserve.’
Her skin was warm, her scent utterly intoxicating. There was something about it that seemed to grab him by the throat and not let go.
‘If it is what I think it is, then you’re not the only one with a weapon,’ he murmured, lowering his head until his mouth was bare inches from hers. ‘You have to be careful, nymph. If you play with fire, you might get yourself burned.’
Her eyes, so close to his, darkened and, as he watched, the lush softness of her mouth opened slightly. ‘I don’t mind,’ she whispered. ‘Especially if you burned with me.’
Again, there was that honesty, reaching inside him as much as her scent did. Though it didn’t grip him by the throat so much as it wrapped long fingers around his heart. And he didn’t know why.
Another woman would have kept playing with him and he would have enjoyed it. He would have won in the end, of course, because he always did, taking things to their logical conclusion, which would be in the bedroom.
But Maude wasn’t playing now. She’d given up the game, even though she’d barely started, and now had handed the win to him. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t won at all, that she had.
Heat glittered in her eyes, and hunger. For him. She didn’t look away and she didn’t try to hide it. She wanted him and he felt a strange sort of protectiveness well up inside him in response.
‘You shouldn’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t show any kind of vulnerability to a man like me.’
‘Why not?’
‘I already told you. I’m a businessman and I’ll exploit any weakness I find if it serves my interests and gets me what I want.’
‘Would you though? Would you really?’
It was a genuine question. He could see it in her eyes. ‘You put your hand over your stomach last week,’ he couldn’t help but point out. ‘And you told me not to use our child as a bargaining chip. So you tell me. Would I?’
She studied him for a long time, desire bright in her gaze and yet also, shining through that, a sharply acute intelligence that made something in his heart skip a beat.
You want her to say, No, you wouldn’t.
He wasn’t sure what that thought had to do with anything. Because he knew the truth, which was yes, of course he would. He’d exploit any weakness, because, like it or not, that was the lesson he’d learned from his father. That was how he’d survived.
And it still hadn’t been good enough for him.
The thought was snide, stealing through his brain, but he shoved it aside. Then he let go of her and stepped back, because maybe, after all, he didn’t want to know what kind of man she thought he was.
‘Don’t answer that,’ he said smoothly. ‘And I should leave. You’re a pretty thing, but I’ve already had everything you have to offer. I don’t need to revisit it.’
It was a cruel thing to say, but he had to put some distance between them. She also needed to know that he wouldn’t allow anyone to have power over him that he didn’t grant them. And the only thing he’d granted her was that she could stay here. He hadn’t given anything up.
He thought she would back away, thought that she would be hurt, and he’d intended both. Except she didn’t back away and it wasn’t hurt that glittered in her eyes, but anger.
‘Is that right?’ She reached down to the tie of her dress and casually pulled it. ‘I suppose you won’t care about a reminder, then.’
The fabric fell slowly open, revealing the fact that she was wearing nothing underneath it. Not a stitch. Only warm golden skin, pink nipples and the sweetest thatch of golden curls between her thighs. Only the swell of her stomach where their baby lay.
Your baby.
She lifted her chin and stared straight at him, openly challenging. And Dominic found that he’d been right, she had won this little game they were playing, and that he didn’t know quite as much about sex and seduction as he’d thought he did.
Because right now, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Desire and hunger had tightened their grip around his throat and were slowly, relentlessly squeezing. The raw possessiveness of that night in the forest was welling up inside him, an animal feeling, turning him into nothing but instinct.
He knew he should turn around and walk away, prove to her once and for all that she had no power over him, and especially not sexual power. He was the master of that, not her, and yet...
She let the dress fall slowly off her shoulders and flutter to the ground, and then she closed the distance he’d put between them, not once taking her gaze from his. As bold as she had been that night in the woods, only this time it was bright daylight and he could see her. He could see every bloody inch.
Christ. He wanted her.
She halted in front of him, and laid one small hand on his chest. ‘I think you’re a liar, Dominic Lancaster,’ she murmured. ‘I think revisiting it is exactly what you want to do.’