War of Love Read online

  'You are beautiful,' Lyon murmured raggedly. 'Absolutely lovely!'

  She knelt on the bed, revelling in the pleasure of helping him undress. She had known his body had to be as beautiful as those hands she found so fasci­nating, and was not disappointed when he stood un­clothed beside her, dark hair covering that muscled chest on its path down to his thighs, not an ounce of superfluous flesh anywhere, his stomach taut, his need of her evident in his nakedness.

  Nothing mattered to either of them now but pleasuring each other. And Lyon gave Silke pleasure as she had never known before, time after time, until she quivered with her need for his full possession, so desperately wanted him inside her, where she knew instinctively he belonged.

  'Touch me, Silke,' he encouraged achingly. 'Help me. Guide me.'

  He felt like velvet, and as he shuddered beneath her touch she knew they both wanted that velvet hardness inside her, sheathed inside her silky warmth, giving them both even more pleasure, pleasure undreamt of. And so she did as he asked, guiding him, groaning her protest as he would have stopped at the barrier that suddenly halted his progress.

  'Silke?' He looked down at her with stunned disbelief.

  'Don't go, Lyon,' she pleaded as he would have pulled away from her.

  He shook his head. 'But you're a-----'

  'Not any more.' She took the initiative, arching up against him, looking up into his eyes as he breached that barrier, knowing only a brief moment of pain, and then that overwhelming pleasure returned as Lyon joined totally with her.

  'You—oh, God...!' He ceased even trying to remain controlled as their bodies moved instinctively together in total harmony, bending his head so that his lips could claim a pouting breast.

  And at the first touch of his mouth against her hardened nipple Silke felt the shudderings of an ec­stasy she had never known before, wave after wave of pleasure taking her away from any reality but Lyon and their mutual lovemaking. Because Lyon was just as out of control as she was, tried desperately to be gentle still, but finally gave in to the primitive urge that was even stronger than he was, his mouth claiming hers even as he moved rhythmically inside her. And Silke knew that earth-shattering ecstasy once more before Lyon groaned his own pleasure, filling her, engulfing her.

  Silke had often wondered how she would feel after making love for the first time. And now she knew. Awkward. Embarrassed. Apprehensive... Maybe if it hadn't been Lyon who had made love to her she wouldn't have felt any of those things, certainly not the latter. But it was Lyon, a man she really hadn't known for very long, a man whom she loved but who didn't love her. A man who had been shocked by her virginity...

  She had loved James, but, as they had always known they were going to marry, the question of their becoming lovers before that marriage hadn't really arisen. She had often asked herself, after James had gone off and married someone else, whether their lack of a physical relationship might have contributed to his going. Maybe it had. Although she doubted she would have known the ecstasy with him that she had just experienced. Lyon had known exactly how to make love to her to give her the ultimate in pleasure. And she hated the women who had given him that knowledge.

  He lay on his back on the bed beside her, not touching her, not looking at her, staring up at the ceiling. Silke watched him beneath lowered lashes, wondering what he was thinking, but as usual his ex­pression gave away none of his thoughts.

  What happened now? How was she supposed to get through the next few minutes with any of her dignity intact? Or maybe she wasn't. This should never have happened-----

  'This should never have happened,' Lyon harshly echoed her thoughts even as he swung his legs off the bed to stand up and begin pulling on his clothes-clothes that had been strewn about the room in their haste to feel flesh against flesh. 'You should have told me,' he added accusingly once he had his trousers on and was tucking his shirt into the waistband with savage movements. 'This makes absolutely no dif­ference to my dislike of your mother marrying my uncle, you know,' he told her coldly. 'I still-----'

  'Don't!' she warned harshly, all awkwardness and embarrassment gone. As for apprehension...! 'Get out of here, Lyon,' she instructed coldly, getting up herself to pull on her grey silky robe to firmly tie the belt about her waist. 'And don't come back!' Her eyes flashed a warning at him not even to mention her mother and Henry again in connection with what had just happened.

  He was fully dressed now, looking at her with nar­rowed steely grey eyes—looking nothing at all like the passionate, consumed man who had just made love to her! Maybe that was something else she had learnt today—you didn't have to be in love with the person you went to bed with. Because although she might have realised she was in love with Lyon, he certainly wasn't in love with her! How naive she had been all these years to believe you actually had to love the person you made love with. But then it obviously hadn't been making love for Lyon but something much more ugly...

  'I asked you to go,' she told him in a controlled voice. She just wanted to be alone, to try to salvage something from this situation. Starting with her pride.

  'I still can't believe-----' He gave a perplexed shake of his head. 'Silke, you and Cameron-----'

  'I don't want to talk about it,' she snapped dismissively. 'My relationship with James is nothing to do with you.'

  'But you were going to marry the man.' Lyon frowned.

  She looked at him challengingly. 'Yes?'

  His frown deepened, and Silke could only imagine how she must look, her hair a blonde tangle about her face, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly swollen from the passion of their kisses. Just the thought of it made her face fill with heated colour and she could no longer meet his gaze.

  'Never mind,' Lyon rasped harshly. 'Obviously, whatever happened—or didn't happen—between you in the past, Cameron has decided to renew the relationship!'

  Silke's eyes widened. She had no idea why James had contacted her after all this time, but she certainly didn't believe it was for the reason Lyon did; James was married, and he had to know her at least well enough, after all this time, to realise she would never become involved with him again while he was a married man. She would never become involved with him again anyway!

  Especially now... She had just made love with Lyon Buchanan, of all people!

  'James can decide what he pleases; it really doesn't affect me,' Silke dismissed, walking to the bedroom door. 'I believe you were leaving,' she said again pointedly.

  Lyon didn't move, fully dressed now, his dark hair slightly ruffled. From her fingers running through its silky thickness, Silke realised with an inward lurch of her stomach.

  'We have to talk about what happened just now-----'

  'We don't have to talk about anything,' she cut in forcefully, wishing he would just leave so that she could lick her wounds in private. And she did feel very emotionally bruised, still couldn't quite believe what had happened between the two of them only minutes ago in this bedroom. She couldn't even look at the bed, didn't know how she was ever going to be able to sleep in it again without remembering Lyon being there. She didn't know how she was ever going to be able to sleep again anyway! 'We both know that—just now, was a mistake,' she added awkwardly.

  'Maybe more of one than either of us realises. Yet,' Lyon concluded grimly.

  Silke looked at him with puzzled eyes. How could it be more of a mistake than it already was? What— oh, no! She paled as she realised Lyon was referring to the possible consequences of what had just hap­pened between them. But she couldn't be pregnant just from... Of course she could; she wasn't that naive that she didn't know it only took the once to become pregnant. And because Lyon hadn't realised how innocent she was it hadn't entered his head—or hers!—to use contraception. Besides, she remem­bered with renewed embarrassment, she had taken matters out of his control and made that impossible for him.

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide. 'You surely don't think that I deliberately-----'

  'Don't be so damned
stupid,' he rasped harshly. 'Neither of us planned what happened between us just now—that's why we're in the predicament we are!' he added self-disgustedly.

  Silke swallowed hard. 'We probably aren't in any predicament at all,' she dismissed with more confi­dence than she felt. God, what if she were to be pregnant? What would they—she—do? Would Lyon expect her to... ? It wouldn't be any of his business, she decided firmly. It was her body, for goodness' sake; she could do what she liked with it—and that included giving birth to Lyon's child if she chose to do so. Just the thought of it made her stomach lurch!

  ' "Probably" doesn't do it, I'm afraid,' he bit out coldly.

  'Well, for the moment it will have to, won't it?' Silke cut in heatedly. 'I'm not about to stand here now and discuss something that's probably not even a possibility.' She felt far too vulnerable standing here in her bedroom wearing only her silky dressing-gown, especially as Lyon was fully dressed. 'I suggest we just wait and see.' She walked to the bedroom doorway, pointedly waiting for him to leave, breathing an inward sigh of relief when he at last left her bedroom. Even if it was only to come to an abrupt halt in her lounge!

  'I'll wait here for you while you dress for dinner,' he told her abruptly.

  Silke gave a snort of disbelief. 'You aren't serious!' She stared at him.

  'Would you rather I waited outside in my car?'

  'I would rather you just left; I have no intention of having dinner with you now!' As if she could calmly sit across a table from him in a restaurant after what had just happened between them!

  'We still have things to talk about, Silke,' he said grimly.

  'We've already discussed the possibility of my being pregnant-----'

  'Not that,' he dismissed impatiently. 'That will become all too apparent in time. There's still the problem of your mother and my uncle.'

  Silke frowned, looking at him searchingly. 'Is that the reason you invited me out to dinner?' she said slowly.

  He gave a curt nod. "The chances are they haven't actually gone through with the wedding yet, and-----'

  'I don't believe you,' she cut in forcefully, her hands clenched so tightly at her sides that her nails were digging into her palms. She had known there had to be a reason for his sudden invitation to dinner, but this! My God, did the man never give up? Obviously not. So much for his interest in seeing some of her jewellery designs in the right setting! 'I hope they have, Lyon. I hope they're already married and that there isn't a damn thing you can do about it!' She was so angry she could have hit him at that moment. 'Get out, Lyon. Just get out,' she added disgustedly.

  'You-----'

  'Now, Lyon,' she told him through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing wamingly.

  He looked at her broodingly for several long sec­onds, finally giving an angry snort. 'You haven't seen the last of me, Silke, even if my uncle comes to his senses and decides not to marry your mother after all-----'

  'He'll marry her,' Silke said with defiant certainty.

  He gave a dismissively disgusted shrug. 'Then that will be his problem. But the two of us now have un­finished business, Silke, and-----'

  'As far as you're concerned it's finished business, Lyon,' she cut in vehemently.

  He shook his head, his eyes glacial. 'If there's a child I'll make it my business again, Silke.' He strode purposefully to the door. 'Count on it!' he warned before leaving, closing the door forcefully behind him.

  It sounded more like a threat than a promise!

  And, knowing Lyon as she did, it probably was. Oh, God, please let there not be any repercussions from her stupidity.

  The stupidity of loving Lyon Buchanan...

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It had been a long and difficult week, a week when Silke had done a lot of soul-searching. She hadn't seen Lyon again since that evening at her flat, but the memory of it had never been far from her mind. In fact, it hadn't been out of it!

  And the week certainly hadn't been helped by the fact that James had indeed 'called' her 'tomorrow'; in fact he had done better than that, he had tele­phoned her at the agency before coming there to see her in person. And what he had to say to her hadn't endeared him to her one little bit!

  The only highlight of the week had been that her mother and Henry had actually managed to get married without any more interference from Lyon. A fact she was sure he was furious about! Not that the older couple looked at all troubled by that when they had returned from their honeymoon yesterday, the two of them obviously glowingly happy together.

  But their return from their few days' honeymoon had been done deliberately Silke had learned last night, Henry informing her that there was a board meeting today—during which he intended proposing that Buchanan's look into the idea of introducing an exclusive jewellery department in their London branch!

  Silke's answer to that had been a definite no. And no amount of arguing on Henry's part had managed to persuade her otherwise. Much to Henry's chagrin. He had accused her of being 'as stubborn as her mother had been at eighteen!'.

  But Silke had no intention of being accused of nep­otism by Lyon. Besides, she was being kept busy enough at the moment anyway. With her mother now married to Henry she had little interest in running the agency, wanted to spend time with her new husband, making sure he didn't overdo things, and so Silke could run the agency for her. Until such time as she decided to sell it or close it down. And then Silke would rethink her future. As far away from Buchanan's as possible!

  Silke had known that Henry was far from happy with her refusal, but in the circumstances there was really little he could do about it. She wanted to stay as far away from Lyon in future as her mother's marriage to his uncle would allow.

  'So we're finally having dinner together.'

  Silke drew in a deeply controlling breath. She hadn't wanted to come to dinner with her mother and Henry this evening at all, had guessed Lyon would be a guest too, but had known she couldn't refuse when her mother pointed out that it was their first dinner party they had given together as husband and wife, and that it would look very odd if her only child weren't present. And so Silke had gritted her teeth and come to the dinner party. Only to find Lyon had arrived ahead of her, looking handsomely remote in a black dinner-suit and snowy white shirt.

  It had been easy to avoid talking to him as they sipped their drinks before the meal, Henry eager to introduce his new family to his friends. And Silke had been only too happy to fall in with this arrangement. Although she had been very much aware of Lyon's brooding presence in the room as she laughed and chatted with the other guests.

  But as they all took their seats at the beautifully set dinner-table in her mother's new home, it became ob­vious she wasn't going to be able to ignore Lyon any longer; he was seated right next to her! It should have occurred to her that this might be the case, she now realised. After all, the other eight people here were all married couples; it was only natural, given the cir­cumstances, that Lyon would be her dinner partner for the evening. She cursed the fact now that she hadn't asked if she could bring someone with her. Anyone!

  She forced herself to look directly at him now, after having avoided doing so for the last half-hour. Although she had always known exactly where he was in the room, she acknowledged self-derisively. She had needed to know where he was so that she could avoid him!

  But his mention now of 'having dinner together' only succeeded in bringing so vividly to mind the evening when they hadn't got as far as having dinner. Because they had ended up in her bed together instead!

  She only hoped none of her inner turmoil at that memory showed as she coolly met his gaze. 'So we are,' she returned mildly, sitting back slightly as the avocado accompanied by prawns was placed in front of her.

  Lyon waited until he had his own food before speaking to her again. 'Is that jewellery some of your own design?'

  It had been the last thing Silke had expected him to say, and she almost choked on a prawn as she turned to look at him. Of all the things he coul
d have said...! What did it matter whether the chunky gold bracelet, earrings and necklace were her design; the two of them had made love a week ago!

  But he didn't seem to be troubled by the same memories, was looking at the chunky bracelet on her wrist with cool interest. Well, maybe he just wasn't troubled by those memories; after all, it had hardly been the first time for him, had it? And any concern he might have had that it had been that for her seemed to have gone.

  'Yes,' she finally confirmed tautly, swallowing hard, the prawn feeling as if it were stuck in her throat now. And she had the rest of the meal to get through yet-somehow!

  She was hardly prepared for him to reach out to clasp her wrist with one of those beautifully tapered hands, lifting her hand towards him. Just the touch of his hand on her flesh was enough to make her want to wrench out of his grasp. It was an impulse she only succeeded in resisting with effort, forcing herself not to show any outward sign of her distress. Although she wasn't sure she had managed to hide the slight trembling of the hand he held...

  'It's beautiful,' he murmured huskily, looking up suddenly, velvet-grey eyes holding her gaze.

  Silke's breath caught—and held. What was he doing? She glanced about them self-consciously, but none of the other guests appeared to have noticed their exchange, either talking or already eating their food. Silke turned back to Lyon, swallowing hard.

  'The bracelet,' he continued softly. 'It's beautiful.'

  She had known he meant the bracelet! Of course she had! What else could he have meant? Certainly not her hand? She only hoped the warmth in her cheeks didn't give away the fact that briefly—very briefly!—she had thought that was exactly what he meant.

  'Thank you,' she accepted distantly, firmly re­leasing her wrist before pointedly turning to the man who sat to her left, engaging him in lightly trivial con­versation about the food. She couldn't have said any­thing more to Lyon at that moment if she had tried! And she didn't want to try, wanted a few minutes to collect her scattered wits.