In Bed With...Collection

He wanted her.

And it didn’t seem to matter that it made no sense at all.

Control and courtesy, his mind screamed, trying to hold on to the course of action he’d set himself. He took a deep breath, willing some oxygen into his brain.

“Maggie...could we start again?’ His voice was hopelessly strained.

She looked blankly at him. “Where?”

He tried to sort through the chaos she wrought in him and realised it was impossible to wipe the slate clean and pretend they were meeting for the first time.

“I’m sorry. I’ve given you every reason to think badly of me,” he said in wretched disarray. “I guess... what I want... is the chance to show I would be worth having around...if it comes to being parents.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “Yes. I would need to know that.”

“So, we have a truce?’ he pressed.

She slowly nodded.

Relief drained through him. He gestured his willingness to give. “Is there anything I can do for you today?”

She shook her head, still wary of him, unsure where this was going. Beau cautioned himself against pushing too far.

“Well, I have some business with my travel agency so I’d better get on with it. I may go in to head office but I’ll be back this evening. You’ll join me for dinner?”

“If you like.”

“Yes. And I’d feel better—everyone here would—if you’d wear whatever you’d normally wear for my grandfather. Please don’t feel uncomfortable with it. I don’t want to negate what he did.”

She heaved a shaky sigh. “Are you sure about this, Beau? I don’t like treading a minefield.”

She’d called him Beau. He smiled, struggling to project reassurance rather than the sudden rush of exultation he felt. “I’m all out of bombs, Maggie.”

The missing million could stay missing until further notice. He had other priorities right now.

“Well, I suppose a truce is a truce,” she said without much conviction. “Tonight then,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Having given the agreement, she slipped out of the library, closing the door quickly behind her.

It reminded Beau of leaving her suite last night.

Trapped.

The realisation struck. She was feeling it, too. With far more reason than he had! He wasn’t the one who had to carry the pregnancy, give birth, bear all the burdens of becoming a mother.

He had to try to make this waiting time easier for her. It was the decent thing to do. Besides, he needed to score some positive points. Whether a baby eventuated or not, there was something about Maggie Stowe that got to him and he couldn’t let her go. Not until he was...satisfied. Yes, satisfied. About everything.

CHAPTER TEN (#ud535c0fb-8216-5cc4-a273-7d8e9771b73f)

MAGGIE felt miserably alone in her big bed, lying in the darkness, endlessly reviewing the past six days.

Playing with fire, she thought. Every time she was with Beau Prescott, it was playing with fire. And she was bound to get burnt.

It would have been better, safer, to have kept a solid distance from him since their night of madness which had so insidiously locked them into this waiting together. Instead, she had left the door open for him to infiltrate all her defences.

Just being with him put her at hazard, his physical presence playing havoc with her senses. The daily doses of charm and caring interest made her feel even more vulnerable, seeding hopes she knew had no solid basis for growing into something good.

If it all stopped tomorrow, if the test result was negative and he gave vent to any expression of “Thank God I’m saved!” Maggie knew she would shrivel up and die inside.

Yet if the test result was positive, how much weight could she attach to his turnaround in behaviour towards her? The paternal instinct might be aroused, but how long would it survive if resentment set in? The wild child might start chaffing against any tie. The will to be honourable could conflict very badly with the need to be free.

Maggie was acutely aware of his holding a rigid control, especially over the simmering sexual attraction which neither of them admitted to on the surface. He didn’t want to compound the problem they already had, didn’t want to get so close there was no room for an easy retreat. The truce was simply a truce from which either of them could withdraw, no promises made, no obligations entered into. It was important to remember that when the deadline came tomorrow. She would hate to make a fool of herself.

The awful part was, no matter how complicated it made her future, she wanted to be pregnant with his child. Somehow—underneath all the conflicts between them—she still wanted to believe they were meant to mate. Surely when he had come to her, she had instinctively responded to that primitive urge. It was the only excuse she had for doing what she’d never done before... putting herself in jeopardy, in a position where there might be no way out.

The old fear suddenly seized her. She determinedly beat it away. There was a way out of this web of circumstances. She could simply step back into the life she’d had before coming here and leave all this behind.

She shifted restlessly, fervently wishing the long hours of this night were already over. Her bed offered no comfort. It kept evoking erotic memories, memories that made her feel a deep sensual craving for the same sexual experience to be repeated. Except she wanted the intimacies to be on more levels than the strictly physical. She was hopelessly obsessed with Beau Prescott, even though common sense dictated he was probably more her enemy than her friend.

Feeling torn by too many conflicting feelings, Maggie tried to will herself to sleep. At least tomorrow would bring answers, whether she liked them or not. The doctor had promised the result would be telephoned and faxed through to them as soon as it came in, which would surely be tomorrow morning.

Answers were better than being in the dark.

Beau shifted restlessly in his bed. He’d used every relaxing technique he knew and they were all useless. His body knew damned well what it wanted—Maggie Stowe—and there was no telling it otherwise. Every night he craved to be in bed with her, wanting the wild heat of their coming together again. And every night he had to exercise this constant control over the torturous desires raging through him.

Thank God the truce would be over tomorrow. This limbo of waiting was killing him. After the result of the blood test came through he could move their relationship onto a different plane. If it was positive, surely the pregnancy would grant him the leeway to get closer to her. Closer in every sense. If it was negative, he would probably have to fight her decision to leave. Either way, it meant action...change...and he would have some barometer of what she was feeling towards him.

She couldn’t deny there was a hell of a lot of chemistry between them. These things weren’t one-sided and he had the evidence of that one night together to prove it. Nevertheless, he doubted sexual attraction was enough to hold her here.

This past week she had been very wary of him, certainly not inviting any touching. Even in conversation she’d been cautious, weighing her replies before giving them. It was obvious she didn’t trust any spontaneity with him, probably believing it had led her astray and she wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. He suspected, in her mind, it was a huge mistake.

He now knew she usually shied clear of ties, never staying long in one place, never attempting to put down any roots. She frankly admitted to having been a drifter, taking up an amazing array of jobs; crewing on a yacht, picking tomatoes, waitressing, helping to run camping tours, being a clown at children’s parties.

She wouldn’t be pinned down to when and where, clearly suspicious of his motives for questioning her, but the experiences she had related over these past few days had a credibility he couldn’t doubt. Besides which, when he’d questioned Sir Roland about the first meeting with his grandfather in the restaurant, both accounts of the evening dovetailed. Maggie had not lied nor embroidered the story in any way.

Having a string of godfathers did not fit what he knew of her now. The missing million didn’t fit, either. She had a strong streak of independence and an untouchable inner core which he equated with the will of a survivor.

Remaining for two years at Rosecliff with his grandfather was something exceptional in her life. He was sure of that. But then the climate here had been exceptional for her under his grandfather’s rule... acceptance without question, approval, liking, respect. When those personal values were threatened she moved on. At least, that was what had stood out to him in the investigators’ reports.

Beau knew those reports, word for word, having read them so many times, endlessly analysing, trying to solve the enigma of the woman from nowhere. Mrs. Zabini’s statement still teased him with its implication of a harsh, subservient upbringing.

“I think she a runaway. No papers. Very few clothes. She say eighteen, but I think younger, maybe sixteen. Is difficult to get nanny to travel with circus so I not question too much. She say she come from big foster family and used to looking after little ones. Whether true or not, she very good with children. Do everything. No complaining.

“But not comfortable with people. Very shy. Keep to herself. I think she afraid of people. When policemen come round circus she hide. But she no thief. She never make trouble. I think she not want to be found. I think she run from bad things so I let be. The Zabinis know of running from bad things in old world. She not of old world, but fear is same.

“When we stop for our resting she leave. No want to stay in one place. My husband, he write reference for her. A good girl. Good nanny. She go with our blessing.”

From Wilgilag, the story was much the same.

Very good with the children, but shied from adult company. Didn’t talk about herself. No family. No connections. No mail ever came for her and she never wrote letters. Everything was smooth sailing—no problems, no trouble—until the owner’s sister arrived for a visit. Her curiosity about the nanny, nagging her with questions, apparently drove the girl away. A cattletrain came in, loaded up, and she left with it. No goodbyes. No reference. Never heard anything more of her.