Chapter 11

Letting herself into the house at almost nine, she dropped her key fob into the holder by the doorway and slipped out of her loafers. She was tired and emotionally drained. The shop had been super busy the entire day, and her staff barely had time to grab something to eat before returning to the floor.

It had been almost two weeks, and she still had not heard from Royce. During the days, the lack of communication was bearable, and Madison had been to see her three times since her arrival, but her visits had a bitter-sweet quality.

The little girl looked so much like her father that each time she was around, the yearning for him became so acute that it was like a physical ache inside her chest.

She told Michael she was involved and knew how foolish that sounded. She was the only one involved in this relationship if she could call it that.

He was calling all the shots, and she wondered if she should take back some of the power she had given him—if he had not gone on to someone else, she thought bitterly.

Some tea was needed because her stomach felt lousy, and she went to bed. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she planned to attend services and do housework.

She was just heading into the kitchen after the shower when she heard the doorbell chiming. Anticipation and a pounding excitement had her rooted to the spot. It had to be him, she thought, suddenly feeling faint.

No one else would be arrogant enough to come here at night. She took a deep breath and walked casually to the door. It was him! Feeling the shivers running all over her body, Indie had to take several deep, calming breaths before she disengaged the lock and opened the door.

"It took you a while," he drawled. His dark hair was tousled, and he had a day's hair growth on his face. The baby blue cotton shirt clung to his broad shoulders, and he smelled wonderful. "Are you going to let me in?"

"You have some nerve, showing up here at this time of night without calling." She said heatedly.

"I never promised to keep in touch." Pushing her out of the way, he turned and locked the door, blue-gray eyes roving over her face. He could smell the body wash she had used. Forcing himself not to jump on her, he moved away and headed into the living room.

"I was about to make myself some tea and go to bed. I am tired."

"I hate tea and would appreciate something stronger. Is there any brandy?"

Without a word, she turned and left the room.

Royce stood by the faux fireplace, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue dress pants. He had a miserable time, unable to concentrate on anything. He had reached for the phone several times to call, just to hear her voice, and had stopped himself. He had been unable to sleep.

He would tumble into bed after drinking several glasses of alcohol, intent on dulling the terrible yearning he had for her, but that would eventually backfire, and he would lay there staring up at the ceiling and willing the rampaging lust to go away. She was in his bloodstream, in every damn fiber of his being.

He had tried to take someone to bed, but that had also been hopeless. He felt distaste as soon as he took the woman in his arms.

"Here." He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had not heard her enter the room.

"Thanks." He took a sip from the glass as he watched her walk over to sit on the single sofa.

She was wearing an old velour robe, but he could see from the gap in the folds that she was not wearing anything under it, or whatever she had on was very skimpy. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been gone almost two weeks, and she could have been with someone else.

"What have you been up to?"

Her eyes widened as she stared at him. She had put the cup on the table in front of her and had not touched it.

"All sorts of things." She said obliquely.

"Such as?" He prodded, staring at her intently.

"Tending to my store, spending time with friends, that sort of thing."

"Male or female?" The question just popped out of his mouth without him realizing it.

"That's none of your business."

"You are right." Tossing back the drink, he slammed the glass on the mantle and started toward her. "Get up."

"You don't-" She broke off with a gasp as he bent forward and hauled her to her feet.

"Would you like to know what I have been doing?" His hands were clamped on her arms, fingers digging into her flesh.

"No. Not particularly." She felt faint, her body reacting to his in the usual alarming manner.

"I have been having these lurid dreams, and that is when I am still awake. And the dreams were so vivid that they made me think you were right there with me." One hand lifted to cup the back of her neck.

"Want to know what the dream was about?" His deep voice had dropped a decibel, sending shivers rioting over her body. "You. Always you. The taste of you, the scent, the texture of your skin. The way you feel wrapped around my cock.

The tightness that tends to suck me in until I am touching your womb. Your nipples are branding my chest, searing my skin. The sounds you make when you are coming all over me.

I was in meetings, important life-changing ones, and my cock would be burgeoning with lust so powerful that, at one point, I had to excuse myself from the room to go into the bathroom. Guess what I did while I was there?"

Indie felt as if her knees were giving out.

"Let me tell you." He continued grimly when she did not respond. "I had to relieve myself. In one of the fancy stalls, I had to use my hand and pretend that I was driving myself in you to get some relief.

And it was far from satisfying. Wanting you is like a fever inside me, a fire burning that is gaining strength like being fed oxygen. I can"t stop wanting you, Indie. I want to rip you apart." His face had hardened. "I want to sink myself deep inside you and never come back out.

I want to use my mouth on your voluptuous curves and brand you - I want to make love to you until I am utterly weak and sated. That's what's been happening to me." His voice had changed and turned brisk, and to her shock, he just stepped back and released her.

"Meet me upstairs."

When she made her way into her bedroom, he was stretched out, completely naked, his hands at the back of his head. The sheer magnificence of his body had her rooted to the spot, her movements completely uncoordinated. He was powerful, shoulders and chest heavily muscled, leading down to a stomach that was washboard flat.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered.

She automatically dropped the robe to the floor, proving what he already suspected. She had been naked underneath the robe. He felt the yearning rushing through his body like a tidal wave and knew that he would not last and would be rough.

He shifted as soon as she climbed in and ordered her on her knees. "I want you from behind." He rasped. His heart was thudding inside his chest, and he felt like someone had lit a fire under him. He was feverish.

How had he managed to stay away from her for so long? His hands moved over her supple derriere slowly as he tried valiantly to slow down his lust.

But sinking deep inside her was his primary goal, and he could not wait. "Damn you," he whispered thickly as he guided himself inside her. He was shattered. Arching his back, he went in deeper; the feel of her enveloping him was so exquisitely excellent, so damn unique, that he could not move.

"Oh, sweet Christ!" He whispered thickly. "Don't move," he urged, his body shuddering. "I don't want to come yet." But she bent her back and pushed upwards, and he was lost.

Running his hands up and down her back, he drove into her with a force that sent her into the headboard. His control broke, and he could not stop himself or even slow things down. He came violently; the groan tore from his chest as he flooded her with his seed.

It took him a while to realize that she had not climaxed. Reaching underneath, he rubbed his finger over her swollen flesh.

She came almost immediately, her bottom shooting upwards against him and sending him into a dizzy spin all over again.

When she collapsed flat on the bed, he went down with her, only just managing to roll off her, his breathing shallow, his skin coated with sweat.

Rolling to her side, she folded her hands under her cheek as she stared at him.

"I need a drink," he muttered without looking at her.

"I could go and get it."

"No." He turned his head to look at her. "You must be damned proud of yourself."

"Why?"

"The power you have over me."

"I would not exactly call it-"

"What would you call it then?" His lips twisted cynically.

"I love you."

His eyes flared at that. "I don't want your love."

"I know. You are content to accept my body."

"Precisely," he told her insolently. "I already told you that is all I have to offer."

"It's not enough." Tugging at the sheets, she used them to cover herself.

"What the hell do you mean by that? Are you expecting a ring?""Eventually. I already told you what I want, Royce."

"Right, a baby."

"Yes. I have been to the doctor-"

"Why?"

"To find out if there is any hope of conceiving?"

"And?" He asked her tersely.

"There is." Her smile came, and the sight of her dimples, the contrast of her white teeth against her lips, had his heart turning over. "And I am holding onto hope. I want your baby so bad that I am willing to do just about anything. But I want to be more than a body to you. And until you are willing to commit, I don't want to see you again."

"What?" He could scarcely believe what she was saying.

"I need a commitment from you. I have fallen in love with you, and I spent almost two weeks hoping against hope that you would call. I am no longer going to be your doormat. I have allowed you to call all the shots while I accept the little crumbs you hand over.

You have not called and just took it for granted that as soon as you turn up, I will accept you with open arms, and that's exactly what I did." Taking a shaky breath, she met his gaze directly, trying to keep the tears burning the back of her eyes at bay. "Until you are ready to commit, I ask you to stay away from me."

He stared at her for a few seconds, his mind whirling. "I don't allow anyone to dictate to me, and I don't do ultimatums," he told her coldly.

"So I guess this is goodbye." Her throat was aching from unshed tears.

"I guess it is." Swinging his legs off the bed, he went to get his clothes. "Whenever you have come to your senses, you know where to reach me."

Turning to face her, he shrugged into his shirt, eyes wandering over her face. "I crave your body, but not enough for me to change the status of what we have going on."

"I love you." She told him achingly. "What you plan on doing with that is up to you. I am not her, Royce. If you are open to what I am offering, I guarantee I will make you happy. I want to make you smile and would put your needs above mine. I would give you a family you would not doubt about.

I want to give you babies, maybe four, but I would settle for two and be a mother to Madison. You would come home each day knowing that I was there waiting for you to hear about your day, to tell you about mine. I would love you unconditionally and help you to learn to love me that way, too."

He was rooted to the spot and felt like something was holding him there. He felt his heart flipping over and the ache starting inside his chest. He wanted to accept what she was offering, wanted to believe her, but years of bitterness, disillusionment, and doubts had taken their toll. And he could not allow himself to open up again.

"That's a charming speech," he said, clearing the huskiness from his throat. "And if I believed in fairytales, I would climb back into that bed.

But life is far from having a storybook ending." Buttoning up his shirt, he sat on the sofa and pulled on his boots. "Like I said, if you are willing to accept my offer, just give me a call." With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

She gave in to the tears and felt the loss of him burning inside her chest.

*****

He drove around aimlessly for an hour before deciding it was time to head home. As soon as he landed, he phoned ahead and said he would be home in the next couple of hours, and it was past that. He knew his mother and daughter would be waiting for him.

It did not matter that he was not in the mood to see anyone and have a conversation. He knew his daughter would have questions about his trip, and of course, he had no intention of telling her about the visit with her mother.

Marilyn had tried once more to get him to agree to her getting in touch with Madison, and this time, she had brought her husband along to reinforce the fact that she was no longer the person she had been in the past. But that had not budged him.He had told the poor besotted fool that he should be careful.

"She is a brilliant actress and missed her calling. She would make a passable career in Hollywood. She certainly fooled me and everyone around her."

The doors were swung open by Joseph, the butler, valet, and sometimes gardener who had been with the family since before he was born.

"Welcome home, Mr. Royce." His stooped shoulders straightened just a little as he took Royce's jacket. "Ms. Rachel is in the blue-and-white salon with Ms. Madison."

"Thank you, Joseph." He managed a smile.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No. I am not hungry." He strode past the man and entered the salon.

"Daddy!" Madison rushed forward, ignoring her grandmother"s suggestion to walk rather than run. "I have missed you!" She exclaimed, launching into his arms.

He held her a little awkwardly before putting her away. "You look like you have grown two inches," he said.

"That's silly, Daddy." The little girl beamed at him. "I am still the same size. Did you bring me a gift?"

"Typical female." He acknowledged sardonically. "It's in my case, and since it's way past your bedtime-"

"I was waiting until you got here. Will you come up and read me a story," she asked, hoping.

"We'll see." He looked at the doorway and saw her nanny standing there. "Go on up."

He waited until she left the room before going to the cabinet to pour a drink."You look tired," Rachel commented, staring at him.

"Rough several days."

"We were expecting you earlier."

"I had something to do." Tossing back the drink, he poured some more and took it to the delicately woven chair across from her.

"Are you hungry?"

"No." Cradling the glass between his hands, he propped his hands on his thighs. "I saw Marilyn."

Rachel blinked at him in shock. "She called?"

"Yes. She got the information about me being in Europe and managed to track me down."

"What did she want?"

Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his legs at the ankle. "To see Madison."

"What?"

"She has changed and has regrets. She is also married and expecting a child."

"Oh my God. The nerve of that woman. Did you believe her?"

"My gullibility was used up six years ago, so I am fresh out." His mind flashed back to Indie"s poignant speech just before he left. "I told her that she should go to hell or something to that effect."

"What if she comes here?" Rachel felt the fear tugging at her heart. "Or try and fight to get Madison?"

"That's not going to happen," he said firmly. "She signed a binding legal document that relinquished all rights to Madison. I had to remind her of it. She claimed that she just wanted to make peace with her."

"I cannot believe this." Rachel rose gracefully and went to the cabinet to pour herself a glass of wine. "That woman is unbelievable. She thinks she can return to your lives after causing you and Madison so much grief." She turned to look at her son. "Are you—do you still have feelings for her?"

He laughed sharply. "The only thing I feel for her is utter contempt, nothing more." he sipped the drink, his mind inadvertently turning to the last few minutes. He could still feel Indie wrapped around him.

He had intended to spend quality time with her, exploring her voluptuous curves, using his mouth to wring moans from her, filling himself with the taste and scent of her. She had spoiled that by bringing her feelings into it, and it filled him with so much anger that he wanted an outlet.

He had spent the past several days yearning to feel her against him and had foolishly rushed home to be with her. Only to be met with an ultimatum. Well, to hell with her!

"Darling?"

Shaking his head, he focused on his mother"s words.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said abruptly. "I guess jet lag is catching up to me." Tossing back the drink, he rose and put the glass away. "I will look in on Madison and go to bed."

"I am worried."

"There is no need." His voice was unnecessarily sharp. "Marilyn does not have a legal foothold, and she knows it. I am not going to let her get to my daughter."

Rachel watched him stride out of the room. Taking the wine with her, she sat back down with a troubled look. Marilyn had been so sweet that no one had seen the person behind the mask. She had thought that her being in Royce's life was precisely what he wanted.

After her husband"s death, she tried to heal the breach between them and failed. But when he met Marilyn, he started to soften, laugh again, and be happy. Now, he was even more approachable than ever, and seeing him so unhappy broke her heart.

And he was. She had seen the strain etched on his face and the bleak look in his eyes. Madison wanted to see him laugh, and Rachel prayed that a miracle would happen.

Taking a sip of her wine, she decided to be proactive and take matters into her own hands. She would reach out to that monster who had caused havoc in their lives and clarify her position.

Madison was her grandchild, and there was no way she would allow that woman into her life. Finishing the wine, she rose, her mind made up and a plan already formulating. Madison needs protection from that woman, and that is true.