Christmas Present Part 3

He knew what he was doing was madness, he knew that he never should have allowed himself that first fiery taste of her. And once he had, he knew he shouldn't be continuing it. But her lips were so soft, the sound she made so tantalizing. Without further thought he accepted the invitation she gave him and plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth. Raw-need rushed to his head and down into his groin.

His hands tightened on her upper arms like iron bands, making it impossible for her to move.

She was caught in a trap of desire, oblivious to the rhythmic music of the stream and the horses that had wandered a few feet away to graze. Sense of place or propriety was lost to her. She strained against him and groaned with pleasure when she felt the hard ridge of his s.e.x press against her pelvis. His kiss was hot, urgent, all-consuming. And she was left bereft and confused when he abruptly pulled away from her.

His eyes glittered like dark sapphires as his chest heaved with the harsh intake and expulsion of air. He looked like a man who very much wanted a woman, but as she stared bewildered at him, he brought his hand up to his mouth and wiped it across his lips. "What's wrong, Kells? What happened?"

"Nothing is wrong," he said roughly. "You wanted me to kiss you. I kissed you."

"Yes, but-"

"You got what you wanted."

Anger surged in her. "And you didn't?"

"As a matter of fact, I enjoyed the h.e.l.l out of it, but that's all there is to it. It's over. I came here to do business with your father, not seduce his daughter." He stalked over to his horse and lifted its reins.

d.a.m.n. He was right, she thought with chagrin And after all, it had been just a kiss, one of countless she had received. Those kisses hadn't meant anything and neither had this one. She had even known he was going to kiss her, and in a very overt way had initiated it. So it had happened; now the thing to do was forget it.

Grappling for a hold on reality, she said, "We should be getting back. Lunch will be served soon." With a curt nod he mounted his horse.

For the most part their ride back to the house was made in silence. When they did speak, it was in a polite, stilted way and on subjects that didn't come close to touching what had happened between them.

They were nearly to the house before it hit Bria that the kiss she and Kells had shared wasn't the kiss she had "seen." No, in that kiss her arms had been around his neck and his hand had been beneath her sweater. Very pa.s.sionate. Wild.

Dear G.o.d, what was happening to her?

When Bria and Kells reached the stables, she quickly excused herself to race to the house, to her room, to the mirror.

"Come on," she muttered with frustration as she stared at her own reflection. "Do your stuff. Show me something."

Her own image continued to stare back at her.

"Dammit. " She hit the arm of the chair. "What in the h.e.l.l is going on?"

She sat back on her heels and tried to come up with a meaning, an explanation for the things she had seen. First there had been her mother on Shalimar, something she knew had happened in the past. Then there had been Kells looking down on Killara, something that to her knowledge hadn't happened. Then she had seen the two of them kissing. It had happened, only not in the way she had seen it in the mirror.

"If you're supposed to be some sort of crystal ball, you're a complete failure," she said to the mirror.

She was gripping the arms of the chair to push herself up when the image in the mirror changed and she saw their housekeeper, Mrs. Copeland, carrying a crystal compote dish full of fruit into the dining room. Just as Mrs. Copeland reached the table, she turned suddenly and chopped the dish. It crashed on the floor. Then Bria was looking at her own reflection again.

"This is crazy," she whispered to herself, shaken. "Crazy."

She sat where she was, waiting until she thought her legs would hold her weight without giving way beneath her. In the bathroom she repeatedly splashed cool water on her face. Then she went in search of Mrs. Copeland and the compote dish.

Downstairs, she reached the doorway of the dining room just as Mrs. Copeland, carrying the fruit-filled compote dish, came into the room, using the door that led from the kitchen. The scene was exactly as it had been moments before when she had seen it in the mirror. Even the fruit was the same.

Something in Bria wanted to cry out to the woman to be careful, to hold on tightly to the dish, but reason prevailed. She didn't want to do anything that might influence the outcome of the tableau unfolding before her.

Mrs. Copeland walked briskly toward the dining table and was nearly to it when someone called to her from the kitchen. She turned suddenly and the compote dish slipped from her hands. Giving a cry of distress, she gazed down at the shattered gla.s.s and fruit that now lay at her feet.

Bria eased away from the door and fell back against the wall. Panic rose in her until it was a scream in her throat, trying to escape. In desperation she sought something normal to focus on. She was in Killara's stately entry hall, with its Italian marble floor and magnificent Waterford chandelier. Against a curved wall the stairway swept gracefully downward from the second floor. As always, her mother had decorated the banister with greenery, ropes of luminescent pearls, tiny clear lights, and red velvet bows. Pots of red poinsettias adorned each step.

Bria ran shaking fingers through her hair.

Seeking out the normal wasn't helping. The normal had ceased to exist the moment she had found the mirror and then met Kells.

With great effort she attempted to will her panic away. When Kells walked up a minute later, she had been only partially successful.

He took one look at her nearly colorless face and closed his hand around her upper arm. "What's wrong, Bria? What's happened? Are you all right?"

What was happening between the two of them might be confusing to her, but the things she saw in the mirror made her think she was losing her mind. Kells, at least, made things happen in her that felt good. Without thinking she spread her fingers over his chest, unconsciously trying to absorb some of his strength and warmth. "I'm fine."

With his free hand he cupped the side of her face. "Then why do you look so pale?"

His touch was working its magic, heating her blood, sending it rushing hotly through her veins. But she didn't feel she could tell him the truth, at least not until she could reasonably explain the phenomenon of the mirror. She had to keep in mind that he was a stranger-a stranger she had seen looking down on Killara with an angry expression on his face. It was bred into her bones to protect Killara. She improvised. "I'm just hungry, that's all."

His brows drew together. "Are you sure that's all it is? You looked like this when I first saw you."

"I was probably hungry then too. Really, it's no big deal. I'm just hungry."

"Your dad said you needed to rest, that it was the reason they asked you to take some time off."

She pa.s.sed a hand over her eyes. "I haven't had a vacation in five years, but I've been doing something I love, learning the business. It's been an exciting, fun time."

"But now you're tired."

He actually sounded concerned, she thought. She had to be wrong; she was probably still in shock. "I told you. I'm okay. You know how parents worry."

"No, actually, I don't."

Remembering that his parents had died when he was young, she sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Forget it. Didn't you have any breakfast?"

"No, but then, I rarely eat breakfast."

He pulled her away from the wall and kept his hand on her. "Let's go see how near to serving lunch they are."

As it happened, lunch was ready. And as soon as Mrs. Copeland had cleaned up the gla.s.s and the fruit, the meal was served.

Bria felt Kells's gaze on her all through lunch, so much so that she barely ate. His presence and his gaze were a tangible force. She had known him less than twenty-four hours, yet she couldn't remember a time when he hadn't loomed large in her life. It didn't make sense that he could affect her so, but then, at the moment so little did.

Immediately after lunch she asked her mother and father to meet her in her bedroom.

"What's up?" Cara asked, perching on the edge of the bed. Burke stood a few feet away.

"It's about the mirror."

Burke nodded, gazing at it. "We need to find somewhere to hang it."

"This isn't about hanging it. Dad. It's about the things I see when I look into the mirror."

"Did you have another dream, honey?" Cara asked, a flicker of worry in her lovely gray eyes.

"What I'm seeing couldn't be a dream. For one thing, I'm wide awake when I see these things; I'm sure I am. For another, the details are too real, and I'm seeing things that have either happened or are about to happen."

"What do you mean?"

She made a quick decision to withhold the times she had seen Kells, and she chose the latest episode to tell them about. "Right before lunch I looked into the mirror and saw Mrs. Copeland drop the compote dish. Then I came downstairs, stood in the dining room doorway, and actually saw her do it. It happened just as it did in the mirror, detail for detail."

Cara threw a worried glance at Burke; he returned it.

Her frustration built as Bria looked from one to the other. "I'm not making this up."

Cara slid off the bed and crossed to her. "Don't you think it's possible that you fell asleep for a brief period of time-you know, a little catnap-and dreamed it?"

Bria shook her head. "No, I don't. Not anymore. I was wide awake. Look into the mirror, both of you. Go on. Look, really look.""

With a glance at each other that plainly said humor her, they did as she asked, first one, then the other. Several minutes later neither of them had seen anything other than their own reflection. And Bria was ready to scream.

Burke put his arm around her. "We believe you, honey," he said in a particularly gentle voice he had always reserved for when she was hurt or sick. "We believe that you think you are seeing scenes in the mirror. But we can also see a broader picture than you can. Like how you've worn yourself out these last five years, learning the business and-"

"I'm not that tired, Dad-"

"No, Bria, your father's right. You're worn down We shouldn't have asked you to take Kells out today. You need to kick back for a few days and do nothing."

"I enjoyed spending the morning with Kells." She really had, she realized, and was certain she didn't want to explore what that said about her. "Besides, I'd go crazy doing nothing." Crazier than she obviously already was, she silently added.

"Then at least try to take things a little easier, be kinder to yourself," Cara said. "Rest as much as possible. Sleep late. Read a good book."

Burke walked to her and put his arm around her. "Take your mother's advice, honey. And I'll get the mirror out of your room. I'll keep it in my study until we decide where to hang it."

Cara nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

"No."

Burke exchanged another worried glance with Cara. "It's for the best, Bria. The mirror obviously disturbs you."

"No-that is, I'd like to keep it here in my room for a while. And I promise I won't let it bother me. Please, Dad."

Burke's dark brows drew together. Cara shrugged. "Okay," he said, "if that's what you want. But promise me you'll get plenty of rest."

"I will," she murmured.

Her parents' gentle, reasonable, consoling manner was like a knife across her nerves. They didn't believe her. And after all, why should they? What she was telling them was positively ludicrous. And unless the mirror decided to show them something, there would be no basis for them to believe. From now on she would keep whatever she saw to herself. And one way or another, she was going to solve the mystery of the mirror.

I hate to be entertained, Kells thought later that evening, prowling his room, restless, unable to sleep. The afternoon and evening had seemed endless. Burke and his wife were the consummate host and hostess, making certain he had everything he needed, ensuring that he wasn't bored for a moment. The truth was, though, he didn't want to spend time with either of them. He would much rather have had the contracts expressed to him in Australia, signed them there, then expressed them back.

He must be among a mirrority of businessmen who weren't pleased when the Delaneys came courting. First Patrick Delaney had come, then Burke. Initially he had resisted, but eventually they had offered him a deal on his own terms too good to turn down. What a Delaney wanted, a Delaney got.

But again, he must be one of the few people in the world who would consider turning down an invitation to Killara. His first impulse had been to refuse when Burke had insisted he let him return the hospitality to Patrick. Kells's reasons for not wanting to visit Killara were vague, even to him. In the end, he had grudgingly given in.

He wished he hadn't. He was uncomfortable being on Killara, and he had no intention of staying a minute longer than necessary. He didn't want to become involved with Burke and Cara Delaney, or their home-or, heaven help him, their daughter. He ran his hand around the back of his neck as he realized he had reached the crux of his agitation.

Brio.

He sure as h.e.l.l hadn't counted on Bria. Unconsciously he had kept track of her today. When he had been with Burke, he had fed him seemingly irrelevant questions until Burke had divulged his daughter's whereabouts. He had done the same with Cara.

His need to know Bria's movements and activities didn't make sense. But then, neither did any of the emotions currently bombarding him. He wanted Bria, there was no question about it. He had made the mistake of kissing her, getting a sample of her taste, and he had been hard-pressed not to take her right there by the stream. Where was his caution? His common sense? Dammit, why was he letting her get to him?

There was something bothering her; something had spooked her-and badly. Twice now he had seen her pale and shaken, and he didn't like it one bit. He shouldn't care, but much to his disgust, he realized he did.

He walked to the window and stared down. The garden and pool were a pale shade of moonglow. He and Burke had walked there that morning before he and Bria had gone riding, had kissed. Dammit.

He turned back to the room and glanced at the bedside clock. Two AM. Lord, why couldn't he sleep? A knock at the door drew a frown from him. Curious about who else was up at this hour, he went to answer it.

"h.e.l.lo, Kells."

"Bria?" She was wearing an ivory satin robe, and her long hair tumbled over the rich material like a river

of fire. Her skin was scrubbed clean, and appeared to be as smooth and soft as a child's, but her eyes were shadowed with fatigue. Protectiveness confusingly mixed with desire and took him by surprise. "May I come in?" He stepped aside so that she could enter and closed the door behind him. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong." She glanced around the large room, but the room with its king-size bed and comfortable sitting area barely made an impression. His image remained with her, an incredibly s.e.xy image. He was wearing trousers; his chest and feet were bare. "I was surprised to see your lights still on. Isn't the bed comfortable?"

"It's very comfortable. Do you want to try it?"

"What?" She jerked around to face him. He was eyeing her broodingly.

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "Apparently you can't sleep either. Why are you

wandering the halls this late at night?"

"I wasn't wandering. I said I was surprised to see your lights still on, but I came here hoping that you'd

be up." "Really?" He stared at her. "You're remarkably candid, some people might say dangerously so." She clasped her hands in front of her. "I'm sorry. I know how this must look, but-" "It's not how it looks, Bria, it's how it feels." She wasn't so stupid that she didn't know what he meant.

The air between them fairly crackled with heat and electricity. Beneath the satin of her robe she could feel

her nipples hardening and a dull ache beginning low in her body. She combed stiff fingers through her hair, pulling a portion of it back behind her shoulder as she did. "Look, let me just ask you what I came here to ask, and then I'll leave."