Free Mistress at a Price by Sara Craven

left the door open for a moment when she came for your tray. ’

    ‘ How — extremely fortunate. ’

    ‘ Indeed, ’ he said gravely. ‘ I must remember to leave her a generous tip. ’

    ‘ I thought you ’ d — simply gone. ’ Now, why had she said that? Cat wondered with vexation. It sounded really needy. And that was the last impression she wanted to convey.

    ‘ No, ’ he said. ‘ That was never part of the plan. As you should know by now. I merely thought it would be more discreet if I had breakfast in the restaurant, that ’ s all. ’

    ‘ Yes, ’ Cat said. ‘ Of course. ’ She began to disentangle the bath sheet, and his hand shot out and captured her wrist.

    ‘ Hey, where are you going? ’

    ‘ I have to get dressed, ’ she said. Because it ’ s far too beguiling , lying in your arms like this . I could get to enjoy it far too much , and I can ’ t afford to do that . It ’ s too dangerous . ‘ Besides, ’ she added quickly, ‘ this towel is getting clammy, and the chambermaid could come back. ’

    ‘ The door is locked, ’ he said. ‘ And I hung the “ Do Not Disturb ” sign outside. ’

    ‘ You were very sure of your welcome. ’ She introduced an austere note.

    He grinned at her. ‘ Not at all. Just — hopeful. ’

    ‘ But we can ’ t stay here, ’ she said. ‘ There ’ s a check-out time. ’

    ‘ And you have to get back to London. ’ He sighed. ‘ If you insist on putting your clothes on, could you walk round the room without them a couple of times? I want to check if my photographic memory still works. ’

    It was ludicrous, after what had happened between them, but Cat felt herself blushing.

    She made her voice sound light as she reached for her clothing. ‘ I think we both have enough memories to be going on with. ’

    ‘ Spoilsport. ’ Liam lay back, watching her, his head pillowed on his folded arms. ‘ I ’ m going back to London too, ’ he said, after a pause. ‘ Which makes it convenient. ’

    ‘ In what way? ’ Cat zipped herself into her skirt.

    ‘ In that I won ’ t have to travel from one end of Britain to the other when I pick you up for dinner tonight, ’ he returned.

    There was a long silence. Cat ’ s hands fumbled on the button of her waistband, then reached for her top and dragged it over her head.

    Liam studied her, brows slightly raised. ‘ You don ’ t object to that, I hope? ’

    She said slowly, ‘ You don ’ t know where I live. ’

    ‘ But I ’ m relying on you to tell me, ’ he said. ‘ Address, telephone, fax, e-mail, date of birth, favourite flower — every last detail that you wouldn ’ t tell me last night. ’

    She touched dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘ I — I don ’ t think I want to do that. ’

    Liam threw off his share of the towel and stretched indolently, making her sharply aware of every lean, suntanned inch of him. ‘ Then I shall have to rely on my powers of persuasion. ’ He held out his hand, his smile wickedly enticing, making the breath catch in her throat. ‘ Come here, darling — please. ’ His voice was husky.

    She felt her pulses begin to race. Experienced the first stirrings of that delicious melting sensation all over again.

    Realised how much she wanted to do as he asked — how desperately she ached to go to him and allow herself to be drawn down into his arms.

    Into his arms and into the trap, she reminded herself with sudden force. Lured there by the possibility — the dream of a shared future.

    Forgetting how starkly the past twenty-four hours had demonstrated how the dream could turn to nightmare. The harsh evidence from her own family circle.

    You begin as strangers, she thought, then you allow yourself to be seduced — confused by passion into believing that this time it will be different — eternal. But when passion dies you ’ re strangers again, with all the hurt and bitterness that implies. And the loneliness.

    The image of Aunt Susan sitting