Enslaved (19 page)

“How pretty you are there,” he said, and before she could answer he bent down and soothed the sensitized flesh with his lips, small soft kisses that raised gooseflesh and brought her clitoris to new swelling.

On her knees, she looked back at him over one creamy shoulder, her face the same pink flush as her bottom. “Gavin?”

He slid a hand to the front of her. Leaning in, he whispered, “I’m going to make you come again, Daisy. I’m going to make you come again and again, and no matter how you beg me, I’m not going to stop until you’ve given in.”

The next morning Daisy sat alone at the breakfast table. Shifting on her tender bottom, she pretended to rehearse her lines, but it was no use. Pushing the dog-eared script aside along with her plate of cold buttered toast, she admitted she couldn’t get Gavin out of her mind. She thought if they made love enough, sooner or later she’d be sated and ready to move on. Unfortunately, the very opposite was proving to be true. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him and she was beginning to worry that if she stayed with him much longer, she might not find the will to leave when the week was out.

Jamison interrupted her musings, carrying in the post. “A telegram came for you, miss.”

“Thank you.” Heart pounding, Daisy took the telegram and read,

Arrived Victoria Station. Stop. Can’t wait to see you. Stop. Lake in St. James’s Park today at noon? Stop. Freddie sends love. Stop. FL. Stop.

FL—Flora Lake. Her dear ones had arrived a week earlier than expected. Daisy held in a sigh, torn between happiness that she would see her parents and Freddie in a few short hours and sadness that their coming meant she would be saying goodbye to Gavin sooner than she planned. Ah, well, all things good and bad must end sooner or later, or so the old adage went. Rising, she shoved the telegram into her robe pocket and got up to dress, never realizing she missed her pocket, the paper hitting the floor instead.

Gavin was halfway to the office when he realized he left his legal brief lying on the breakfast table. Circling back home, he found it on his chair. He was on his way out when he caught sight of Mia batting something small and round about the floor.

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me, you little huntress.” He bent to take the dead mouse away from her and discovered it wasn’t a mouse at all but a balled up piece of paper.

Straightening, he set the brief down and unfurled the telegram. He came to the name, Freddie, and a cold, glacial rage took possession of him. He shoved the message in his pocket and headed for Daisy’s room. They met in the hallway.

Stepping back, she said, “Gavin, this is a surprise.”

“Indeed.” He ran his gaze over her. She looked very stylish in a canary yellow carriage dress with lego’mutton sleeves and a felt hat trimmed with just the right number of ostrich feathers.

“I was just going out for a bit,” she said and he noted how her guilty gaze slid away.

“Fancy some company?” he asked, knowing already what her answer would be.

She hesitated. “I have a bit of shopping to do and then I’ve promised to have lunch with an old friend.”

He stared at her, marveling at how glibly the lies rolled off her tongue. “I didn’t know you had any old friends here in London beyond Rourke and Hadrian and surely you don’t mean them?”

“Did I say an old friend? Rather I meant to say a new friend, one of the actresses from the company. We thought it might be fun to have a bite and a chat outside the theater. It’s always so hectic once we’re there.”

“Ah, I see.” The hell of it was he truly did. “In that case, have a good day. I’ll see you tonight?”

Again she gave a hint of hesitation that had his heart lurching. “Yes, tonight.”

Heart drumming, he silently counted to ten and then followed her out onto the busy street.

Keeping his distance, Gavin followed Daisy to a confectionary in Piccadilly, a linen draper’s in Pall Mall, and finally to St. James’s Park. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have minded. It was a perfect spring day, the sky a near cloudless canopy the color of cornflowers, the air a perfume of blooming shrubs and freshly mown grass, the sunshine of such a pure golden light you might be tempted to take off your clothes and bask in it. Hiding behind bushes and ducking behind buildings, Gavin felt as if the fine weather were mocking him. Instead of blue skies and golden sunlight, it should be dark, gray- clouded, and better yet, stormy—a mirror for his mood. Who would have ever thought Gavin Carmichael, top barrister and stellar citizen, would sink so low as stalking?

Daisy came to a bench within eyeshot of the Ornithological Society lodge overlooking the eastern portion of the lake. She looked from the left to the right and then sat down to wait. Toes tapping, she was either very impatient or very nervous or both, Gavin suspected. Suddenly she popped up from the bench seat, arm swinging back and forth in a wild wave as though hailing someone from the other side of the water. The lover, Freddie, must have arrived. Holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, Gavin strained to get a good look at the cad.

The couple waving back and walking toward her looked to be in their sixties, perhaps older. A little dark-haired girl of seven or perhaps eight skipped along. Skirting the embankment, they each held one of her small hands though it was obvious she was impatient with their pace. The man walked stiffly, and then stopped as if to catch his breath. The woman broke hands with the little girl to wrap her arm about his thin shoulders. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to cover his mouth. All at once, the little girl let out a squeal and sped forward.

“Maman. Maman!”

“Freddie!”

Freddie?
Gavin swung his head back to Daisy. Skirts hiked high, she ran toward the child. Reaching her, she dropped to her knees on the path, and the little girl flew into her open arms.

“Oh, Freddie, darling, it’s been an eternity. Have you been a good girl?” Not waiting for an answer, she rained kisses on the child’s rosy cheeks and ran loving fingers through her head of shining dark curls.

Gavin stepped out into the open and walked toward them, his shadow falling over them. The last time he looked down on Daisy kneeling at his feet, she’d been pleasuring him with her mouth. That he should recall such a thing in the midst of the present tender moment struck him as a symptom of just how very low he’d sunk.

Daisy looked up and let out a start. Her smile slipped and the light left her eyes. If anything, he fancied she looked a little afraid. “Gavin, what are you doing here?”

“I hardly think I’m the one who need explain.”

The little girl eased out of Daisy’s arms and looked up at him with curious blue eyes. “Bonjour, monsieur.”

“Bonjour, mademoiselle.” Gavin knew a little French from his school days, enough to known
maman
was the word for mother.

Rising, Daisy said, “This is my daughter, Fredericka.”

For an awkward several seconds, Gavin could do little more than stare from mother to child. The little girl was dark where Daisy was fair and yet she had Daisy’s almond-shaped eyes, albeit blue rather than green, upturned nose, and distinctive upside down mouth.

Finding his voice, he said, “Hello, Fredericka. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She offered him her small hand and Gavin made a show of shaking it. Watching it disappear in his broad one, he felt a funny pull in the vicinity of his heart. “My mummy calls me by my grownup name, but everyone else calls me Freddie.” Taking back her hand, she cocked her small face to the side and looked up at him as if he were a previously unknown insect or flower she was studying. “Are you my uncle, too?”

Unsure of how to answer that, Gavin turned to Daisy. Cheeks flushed, she gazed down at her daughter, trying for a smile. “This is Mr. Carmichael, darling. He and mummy have been friends since I was scarcely older than you are.”

Now that the initial shock was fading, Gavin felt a rush of relief. If this charming child was Daisy’s “dearest, darling Freddie,” that must mean there was no lover, no serious attachment on either side of the Channel. And yet, if it were the case, why had Daisy taken such pains to lead him to believe there was?

A tug on his coat sleeve had him looking down. “I’ll be eight years old next month.” Beaming, the child—Freddie—held up the requisite number of fingers.

Daisy cast him a nervous smile. “Turning eight is quite an accomplishment.”

“Indeed.” Hurt seeped in to fill the void where shock had resided. To have kept up such a ruse, Daisy must have been desperate to rid herself of him.

The older couple reached them, the man leaning heavily on his wife’s arm. From his grayish complexion and wheezing breaths, Gavin saw he wasn’t well. Daisy stepped back to make the introductions. “These are my adoptive parents, Bob and Flora Lake. Mum, Dad, this is my … friend, Gavin Carmichael.”

The widening of the older woman’s eyes behind the wire-framed spectacles must mean his name was known to her. Wondering what Daisy might have said about him, he stepped forward and shook hands. Turning back to Daisy, he said through set teeth, “A word with you, if you please, before I leave you to your family.”

Letting go of her husband’s arm, Flora came forward. “Oh, pray don’t rush off on our account, Mr. Carmichael. We were just about to search out a teashop and have a cup. Won’t you join us?”

Daisy shot her adoptive mother a warning look, and catching it out of the corner of his eye, Gavin said, “I don’t think so, but I thank you for your kind invitation.”

He turned to Daisy and offered his arm. Unless she wanted to make a scene in front of her family, she would have no choice but to take it. Not giving her the chance to say no, he steered her off the path. Turning his back to screen the staring eyes monitoring their every move, he dropped his voice and demanded, “Why did you let me go on believing Freddie was your lover? Why didn’t you tell me the bloody truth for once?”

She lifted her chin. “Why should I? It’s not as if I have to apologize for my life to anyone—and certainly not to you, of all people.” He opened his mouth to demand just what she meant by that when she cut him off. “Besides, you’ve been willing enough to believe the worst of me ever since you saw me in that club.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact you were parading about onstage more than half-naked before a hundred-odd men like a … “ He stopped himself.

“Like a whore?” Daisy hauled back her hand and brought it hard across his cheek.

From behind them, a woman, Flora, shouted, “Daisy!” but neither of them paid her any heed.

Rubbing his smarting jaw, Gavin looked down at her and said, “Feel better?”

She shook her head, eyes bright with tears she was too stubborn to shed. “Why did you have to follow me? Why couldn’t you just leave me bloody well alone? We’re not good for each other, Gavin, not anymore. Can’t you see that?”

They had been good for each other, or at least they might have been if Daisy would have only given him a chance to love her. As it was, there was no more left to be said between them—beyond goodbye. Reaching down, he took hold of her shoulders and hauled her up against him, crushing her mouth to his in a bruising, breath-stealing kiss. Setting her from him, he looked down at her startled eyes and flushed cheeks and swollen mouth and wished to God that someday he might know the peace of truly hating her.