Witchchild. Carole Mortimer

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She met his gaze challengingly, knowing that none of her inner disillusionment showed; she had learnt long ago to hide her true feelings. ‘Obviously I misjudged the situation,’ she added derisively.

      ‘Damn right you did!’ growled Hawk. ‘Care to try a little blackmail of your own?’ he prompted softly.

      Her eyes widened, then she gave a slow smile. ‘It wouldn’t look too good to Hal if he were to find out you’d taken me to bed, the sister of the woman he loves, only hours after meeting me,’ she taunted. ‘But I wouldn’t do that to Hal, Hawk,’ her eyes flashed. ‘He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by knowing what a bastard his father is!’

      His mouth thinned. ‘Maybe I ought to tell him, just to show him how far you and your devious sister are prepared to go!’

      Her trembling hands gripped the sheet in front of her. ‘Maybe you should,’ she agreed flatly.

      ‘But I won’t,’ he declared. ‘It’s bad enough that I know what sort of a fool I was last night. But if you think what happened made me look with favour on Hal’s and Laura’s relationship you couldn’t be more wrong; God knows what your sister is capable of if you’re capable of going to bed with a man to give her what she wants!’

      Leonie sat forward in the bed. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

      His mouth twisted, his eyes mocking her. ‘Whatever it is you can depend upon it being a direct result of what you did with your sexy little body last night!’

      And he had left her then.

      If Laura had been any other than what she was Hawk would never have got away with asking them to wait a year before marrying; he would have lost his son. He hadn’t realised, still didn’t seem to realise, that it was because of Laura that he still had a son who loved him.

      Hawk’s daughter had been conceived that night in his arms when Leonie had briefly begun to hope again, even her veneer of cheerful recklessness stripped from her when she learned that she carried his child.

      Looking at Hawk now, as he faced her so steadily across the lounge, waiting for her to deny that Holly was his child, Leonie knew he was the last man she should have gambled even the tiniest piece of love on, that it was just as well he had killed the emotion before it had even begun to possess her. She would have been destroyed utterly by caring for this man. Or his child.

      ‘If you’ve come for Holly I’m sure June could have her things packed in about half an hour or so,’ she told him calmly. ‘Do you have someone you can get to take care of her for you?’

       CHAPTER THREE

      WHAT the hell did she mean, he could just pick up the baby and walk out of here! She had almost died giving birth to Holly; didn’t she care for her at all? He couldn’t accept that. Leonie loved Laura with a fierceness that bordered on over-protectiveness; she couldn’t possibly care any less for her own child!

      And yet she had just told him he could take Holly with him when he left.

      He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Laura has gone to call Hal,’ he told her abruptly. ‘I’ve withdrawn all my objections to their getting married.’

      If he had hoped that news at least would please her he was disappointed; she remained as unmoving as ever. What was wrong with her, damn it! Could she have post-natal depression? He had heard it could totally devastate a woman after she had had a baby, especially if she had been through a rough birth.

      ‘Leonie, did you hear what I said—–’

      ‘Did you hear what I said?’ she interrupted calmly. ‘I told you Holly can be ready to go when you are.’

      Hawk rose forcefully to his feet. ‘You can’t mean that!’ he exploded.

      ‘If you would rather wait until you’ve made arrangements for someone professional to take care of her she can stay on here for a while,’ Leonie offered. ‘She’s quite comfortable here. We have a nursery—–’

      ‘Quite com—–!’ Hawk echoed thunderously.

      ‘That’s your child you’re calmly discussing giving away!’

      She looked at him with emotionless green eyes. ‘I’m not giving her away—she’s your daughter.’

      Even though he had already been certain of that it still left him breathless to hear Holly called his daughter. He and Amy had always wanted other children besides Hal, but she had been killed before it became possible. At his age he had given up any idea of having other children, deciding he would bounce Hal’s children on his knee instead when the time came. Holly was an unexpected—and delightful!—gift to him; he couldn’t accept that Leonie didn’t feel the same way about her.

      ‘I have no intention of taking Holly away from you,’ he bit out between gritted teeth.

      The uncertainty in her eyes was quickly masked. ‘You don’t?’ she enquired coolly.

      ‘Leonie, you almost died giving birth to her!’ He frustratedly tried to elicit some show of emotion from her, aching inside at the thought that he might have lost her for ever and not known about it until now.

      She gave a vague smile. ‘I told you, I’m much better now.’

      If anything she looked more ethereal this evening than she had earlier, the daylight hours seeming to have drained her of the small store of energy she had.

      He had done this to her, had wanted her to the point of madness that night, and then tried to blame it all on her the next morning.

      Because all those months ago she had got to him in a way that no other woman had, not even Amy. She had touched him with her humour, with her spirit, and lastly with the overwhelming capacity she had for passion. He could have stayed buried in her all night long, on one long continual high, never wanting to reach the point of release. God, he had stayed in her most of the night; it was only when morning came, the cold light of dawn revealing her duplicity to him, that he had forced himself to remember exactly who she was. He couldn’t allow himself to care for her!

      When she had admitted to going to bed with him only as a means of placating him for Hal’s and Laura’s sake he had struck out in the only way he was able without actually exerting physical violence, and had watched as the softness drained out of her, as she too forgot the beauty of their lovemaking.

      But his respite from the torture of reliving her softness in his arms had been only brief, never a day passing during the following months when he hadn’t imagined he could smell her, taste her on his lips, feel the very essence of her as her body melted into his. It had been a frustrating nine months, when no other woman had felt right in his arms, until eventually he had stopped even looking at other women, knowing it was this sprite he wanted. He had taken Sarah with him to any social functions he just couldn’t get out of, knowing he didn’t have to put on an act with her, that she just ignored his bad temper. Neither did she expect him to make love to her at the end of the evening, and get upset when he didn’t want to!

      He had been hell to live with, making Sarah’s and Jake’s lives hell too. No wonder Jake was walking out on him! He should really

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