Witchchild. Carole Mortimer

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Witchchild - Carole  Mortimer

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      Because Michael Spencer wasn’t Holly’s father—he was!

      Leonie had nearly died giving birth to his baby. Nine months ago he had taken her to bed, made love to her—and he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since. He had given her a reminder of him that meant she would never forget him either!

      Why hadn’t she contacted him as soon as she had learnt she was pregnant? She had to know that she carried his child, and that he would want to know about it.

      He had a daughter! That tiny bundle of blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty was his daughter.

      He knew. Leonie could see the knowledge in his eyes as he faced her across the lounge after arriving with Laura a few minutes ago. Her sister seemed her normal chatty self when she came in, so he obviously hadn’t told her he was Holly’s father.

      As she had known he would, he had come back here as soon as he discovered the truth, and she had guarded against it. Nothing he said or did could hurt her.

      Just as nothing he had said or done nine months ago had hurt her.

      She had been surprised when he returned to the house that evening, even more dismayed when he had told her he had decided to wait for Laura and Hal to get back; she had known the other couple weren’t coming back that night.

      Rather than tell him the truth she had decided to brave it out and hope it became so late he would eventually leave and come back tomorrow.

      Trying to entertain a man like Hawk Sinclair wasn’t an easy thing to do. She had noticed a little self-consciously that he seemed to be entertained just watching her! And those glinting eyes through narrowed lids unnerved her.

      ‘Do you play Monopoly?’ she encouraged.

      He shook his head.

      ‘No.’ Perhaps he didn’t need pretend games. He succeeded only too well at the games he played for real! ‘I’m really not into games. I never take unfair advantage of a woman,’ he drawled softly.

      Why did she have the feeling that statement had a double meaning? Probably because it had! This man wanted her, she could see that by the intensity of his gaze and the way he never took his eyes off her.

      She didn’t want him. She found him fascinating to watch, like seeing a sleek animal in action, but she didn’t want him.

      What if she repulsed him? Would it affect his decision concerning Laura and Hal? She hoped it wouldn’t actually come to a point where she had to make a choice.

      ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ she said impulsively, standing up.

      His brows rose. ‘A walk?’ he echoed reluctantly.

      She grinned. ‘Well, I realise that being rich you’re probably driven everywhere you want to go, but you surely haven’t forgotten that if you put one foot in front of the other you actually move forward? If you put one foot behind the other you can even—–’

      ‘Okay, Leonie,’ he said dryly, ‘I get the picture. It is the end of September,’ he reminded her hopefully.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘The nights are getting colder—–’

      ‘Not that cold.’ She pulled him to his feet, moving away instantly as she sensed he was about to put his arms around her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she just didn’t want him in that way!

      ‘All right,’ he shrugged into the leather jacket he had draped over the chair when he arrived. ‘If the lady wants to walk, we’ll walk,’ he said wearily.

      She doubted if Hawk Sinclair’s idea of a walk was to have six cats accompany him!

      The cats’ idea of a walk round the garden was to ambush them every couple of steps, leaping out at them from behind bushes and tree-trunks, wrapping paws around their ankles until they were gently shaken off. Leonie and Hawk’s progress was severely handicapped by their mischievous antics.

      Leonie’s mouth twitched with amusement as Hawk tried his best to hide his annoyance; he was obviously not used to having animals about him.

      ‘How did you ever end up with six cats?’ he finally burst out impatiently.

      ‘Strays,’ she supplied. ‘Every one of them. If a cat’s found wandering in the village and no one claims it then it’s brought here. We never turn them away.’

      ‘No dogs?’ he quirked dark brows.

      She shook her head, her hair fiery-red in the last of the sun’s rays. ‘No dogs.’

      ‘Why not?’ He pointedly removed Rose, her pure white cat, from around his ankle.

      She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on them, neither Laura nor I have the time to walk them.’

      His mouth tightened. ‘I’m sure your sister’s time is fully occupied with bedazzling Hal!’

      She gave him a reproving look. ‘Laura is my image,’ she drawled. ‘And neither of us has the assets to dazzle anyone!’

      He came to an abrupt halt at her side, looking down at her with dark grey eyes. ‘You don’t think so?’ he murmured softly.

      She stiffened warily. ‘No.’

      ‘I’m dazzled,’ he stated quietly. ‘By you.’

      Leonie gave a dismissive laugh. ‘Now look, Hawk—–’

      ‘I have,’ he said abruptly. ‘And I want it. Want you. Are you going to let me have you?’

      Or what? Would he demand that Laura never see Hal again, would he smash the delicacy of their love because he had been denied what he wanted? She knew he was capable of doing exactly that, because although Hal might disregard his disapproval, Laura never would.

      Could she make love with this man, with any man for such a reason? She would do anything to ensure Laura the happiness she hadn’t been able to find herself, even make love with a man who merely ‘wanted’ her for his own gratification. He would never be able to touch her emotionally, no man had been able to do that since her marriage to Michael. And the taking of her body couldn’t hurt her; it had been done too many times by Michael for one more time to matter!

      He was going to be very disappointed if he thought making love to her would be more than that. Her only lover had been her husband, and his idea of lovemaking was to take his pleasure as quickly as possible, taking what he wanted like a thief in the night. If there were any other way to make love—and she was sure there had to be when so many people found the act addictive!—then she had never experienced it. And Hawk Sinclair looked as if he had experienced every pleasure that was available to him.

      She drew in a nervous breath, her decision made. ‘We’d better go back to the house, the cats have no respect for privacy.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Tulip once jumped on Michael’s back when—–’ She broke off abruptly. ‘Michael was my husband,’ she added awkwardly as Hawk began to chuckle at the image she had created.

      ‘So

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