Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (15 page)

She had filled one suitcase and was halfway through with the second, when there was a knock on the front door. That would be Johnny. She started to call out for him to come in, when she realized that she had locked the door. “Just a minute, Johnny.” She hurriedly crossed to the door to let him in.

Michael Donovan brushed her aside and strode into the cottage. He crossed to the open bedroom door, and, with a raking glance, took in the open suitcases and the hurried preparations for departure. He turned slowly, and Brenna flinched at his furious expression and blazing eyes. In their short acquaintance she had seen him angry many times, but never like this. He looked like a dangerous animal ready to spring.

“Johnny won't be coming,” he said softly. “I told Paula I would attend to everything.”

Brenna bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “Does Paula always act as a spy for you?” she asked shakily. The sight of him had been a shock that threatened to vanquish the little control she still had over her emotions.

“Not always,” Donovan said harshly. “Let's just say, she knew I'd be interested in your little emergency!” His leashed anger broke through it's bonds. “My God! That bastard only had to get you alone for an hour, to make you go running back to him like a bitch in heat. Don't you have any pride or self-respect? The son of a bitch got you pregnant and then deserted you!”

She was stunned. He actually thought she was running to Chadeaux instead of away from him. The ridiculousness of the surmise seemed wildly funny in her desperate state, and she laughed hysterically.

It was a mistake. In two strides he had reached her, his hands gripping her shoulders brutally as he shook her. “Shut up, damn you!” he rasped, his eyes like hot coals in his white face. “Do you think I'm just going to let you walk away from me? You're not going to him. I'll stop you any way I can.” His eyes were tormented as they ran over her contemptuously. “Look at you. You couldn't wait to get rid of me, so that you could dress up for him. Did it work? Did he think you were even more beautiful than he remembered? Is that why he asked you to come back to him?”

“No! no! You've got it all wrong. I'd never do that. I couldn't.” Tears were running down her cheeks as the last of her fragile control vanished. “I hate him,” she said brokenly. Suddenly she collapsed against him, clinging to his rock-like strength with desperation, her body wracked with sobs.

Donovan was frozen with surprise for a long moment, and
then his arms went slowly around her to hold her securely. “Then why are you going back to him?” he asked bluntly. “Does he have some kind of hold on you? For God's sake, tell me what's wrong, Brenna.”

“He wants Randy,” she said baldly. “He's going to take Randy away from me.” She stepped back reluctantly from that magically warming embrace, and immediately felt alone and vulnerable again. “I was trying to run away from him,” she said wearily.

“You were also running away from me,” Donovan said coolly. “And any chance you might have for a career. Do you think any film-maker in the business would take a chance on you again, once it got around that you'd run out before the picture was finished?”

“No, I guess I didn't think at all,” Brenna admitted huskily. “But I still would have done the same thing if I had. I can't let Paul Chadeaux get his hands on Randy.” She wiped her eyes childishly with the back of her hand.

“No one is going to take your child away from you,” Donovan said with conviction. “I won't let them. If you had come to me instead of flying into a panic, I'd have told you that.”

She shook her head ruefully at the sheer royal arrogance of the man. It would not happen, because Donovan did not will it so. Long live Michael Donovan. In spite of herself, she couldn't help being a little reassured by his boundless confidence. Aside from their burgeoning personal relationship, Donovan had a business interest in seeing that Brenna Sloan completed his picture on schedule. He would bend the same ruthless energy to her problem as to any other obstacle that got in his way.

She opened her lips to confess that Randy was not her child but Janine's. She knew he was entitled to know everything, if she was going to solicit his help. Under the circumstances, Janine would surely forgive her for breaking her promise. Suddenly
Brenna was beset by doubts. Would Donovan be as eager to help her if he knew the child wasn't hers? He had no affection for Randy. Wouldn't he, like everyone else, think that she should turn Randy over to his natural father? She couldn't take the chance. Randy was too important to her.

Donovan strolled over to the bar and made himself a drink. Pouring her a small whiskey, he returned to hand it to her.

She accepted it, a small smile curving her lips. “This seems to be your day for plying me with liquor,” she said.

“You need it,” he said curtly. “Now suppose you tell me why you think Chadeaux has a chance of gaining custody of Randy. Didn't you say the father wasn't named on the birth certificate?”

Not looking at him, Brenna briefly related Chadeaux's threats. She purposely did not mention Janine, leaving Donovan to assume that it was Chadeaux's intention to hire detectives to find witnesses to their affair that had so terrified her.

“That's all?” Donovan asked, his eyes narrowed on her flushed face. “You're sure he wasn't trying to blackmail you? He didn't offer to leave Randy with you for a consideration?”

Brenna shook her head, relieved that he had mistaken her guilt for distress. She made a face. “He made an offer,” she admitted dryly. “But I couldn't take marriage with Paul Chadeaux even for Randy.”

Donovan looked at his drink. “Marriage,” he said thoughtfully. “The bastard must know you very well. In time, when you'd gotten desperate enough, you might have given in to even that. It's obvious you'd do anything for the child.” He took a long swallow of his drink. “It makes you very vulnerable, Brenna. I can see that I'm going to have to build a fence around you to keep out the predators.”

“A fence?” Brenna asked blankly.

“I'm going to marry you myself,” Donovan said coolly.

She felt her heart lurch, and the blood rush dizzily to her
head. “That's not very funny,” she said breathlessly, moistening her lips.

“It wasn't intended to be,” Donovan said calmly. “I've just offered you a solution to your problem. Marriage to me would safeguard your claim to Randy, and protect you from any further harassment from Chadeaux. I know how to take care of my own.”

“He could still locate those witnesses and push his claim to Randy.”

His eyes were totally ruthless. “Not if I claim that I'm Randy's father. I don't relish the idea of casting myself as a seducer of a teenage Lolita, but I imagine my word would be taken over Chadeaux's. I pour a lot of money into the state's economy, and I have a few friends in high places.”

Brenna's eyes were wide with shock. “No one would believe you,” she said. “I didn't even know you three years ago.”

Donovan shrugged. “Who's to know that?” he asked sardonically. “For every witness that Chadeaux produces to testify that you were his mistress, I'll have two to swear you were mine. In case you haven't heard, money talks!”

“You'd pay someone to perjure themselves?” Brenna asked, aghast.

“If necessary,” Donovan said bluntly. “Would you rather lose Randy? There are no guarantees that you'll get justice just because you're right. Sometimes justice has to be manipulated.” He smiled tightly. “However, it may not come to that. Your ex-lover seems to be a little on the shady side. I may be able to put the screws on him in some other way. I'll get my lawyers on it tomorrow.” He drained his glass, and set it down on the coffee table. “It would be best if we were married immediately,” he said simply. “Shall we say, three days? That will take care of the waiting period, and give you a chance to finish the picture. I'll send the company doctor by the set tomorrow to take care of the blood test.”

“Wait!” Brenna protested, holding up her hand distractedly. “I've got to think. It's all going too fast.” Donovan was proceeding with his usual steamroller tactics, and she felt she would be swept away in the wake of his single-minded drive like a leaf in a storm if she didn't slow him down.

“What's to think about?” Donovan asked impatiently. “You get your son, your career, and a wealthy husband. What more could you want?”

The bitter cynicism in his face hurt her in some mysterious fashion. “Why are you doing this?” she asked bewilderedly. “Yes, I'm getting all that, but what are you getting out of this marriage?”

The blue eyes were suddenly impenetrable as Donovan considered her question. “What am I getting?” His mouth twisted cynically. “I'm getting Brenna Sloan in my bed until I tire of her. I get a chance to work off this obsession I have for you. Closeness has been known to kill stone dead more than one great passion. Maybe I'll get lucky.”

“You expect me to…” Brenna blushed, and then was furious with herself when Donovan raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“You're damn right I do,” he said bluntly. “This isn't some storybook. This is real life, Brenna. There's always a price tag on everything. Sometimes it's hidden, but the price is there. In this case, I don't think you'll find it hard to pay.”

Brenna shivered. “You make it sound so… business-like,” she said unhappily.

“I think I can promise you it won't be at all business-like once we're in bed,” he said dryly. “We really turn each other on, remember? I told you once I don't play games. I like all the cards on the table. For saving your son for you, all I want is your word that you won't leave me until I tell you to go.”

Brenna's mouth twisted wryly. “Yet you retain the right to toss me aside whenever you get bored with me,” she said sadly.
“Jake said you always had an escape clause written into every contract.”

There was a flicker of emotion deep in Donovan's eyes before he looked away. “That's right, I do,” he said coolly. “Do I have your promise?”

Brenna's throat was tight and aching as she looked at Donovan's hard, expressionless face. She had a fleeting memory of another Donovan walking with her hand in hand through the woods. Why did it hurt so much to realize she might never reach further than the physical with this man?

“Yes, you have my promise,” she said wearily.

“Good,” Donovan said briskly, as if he had never expected anything else. He dropped a light kiss on her forehead as if she were a small child. “You'd better get to bed. You're exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Her face must have reflected her surprise, for a sardonic smile twisted Donovan's mouth. “You expected me to drag you off to bed once I had your word? You must have had some poor lovers, Brenna. Now that I have a commitment from you, I can wait.” He grimaced. “Not long, but I can wait.” She was staring after him, still speechless, when the door closed behind him.

eight

BRENNA SIPPED HER CHAMPAGNE, GAZING
over the crowded living room with a curious feeling of remoteness. It was almost as if she were a guest and not the central figure at this wedding reception. There was no possibility of her occupying center stage with Michael Donovan in the same scene, she thought wryly. Even the glamour surrounding the bride was eclipsed by a groom with Donovan's dynamic charisma.

Not that she had been neglected. On the contrary, she had been fussed over and toadied to, to such an extent that she was forced to move to this quiet corner to escape. She had no illusions that it was her own charm that had instigated such an effusive display. Two hours ago the little nobody actress had become Mrs. Michael Donovan, and so must be cultivated. She had the ear of the throne.

“A bride for such a short time and left all alone? Michael isn't usually so careless with his possessions.” Jake Dominic's mocking voice made her look up quickly. Devastatingly attractive, as usual, in conventional black evening clothes, he was a welcome sight to Brenna, after putting up with the fawning sycophants all evening.

“He appears to be busy,” Brenna said calmly, her eyes searching
out Donovan's red head in a far corner of the room, as he bent to listen attentively to a distinguished gray-haired man.

“Judge Simon Arthington, State Supreme Court Judge,” Jake said thoughtfully. “And before that, I saw him with Senator Atkins. Unusual company to cultivate on one's wedding day, wouldn't you say?”

“Perhaps he's just being a good host,” Brenna said evasively. “They are friends of his, aren't they?”

“Oh, they're friends of his,” Jake said cynically. “Michael is a very generous contributor to their campaign funds. They're very fond of him.” He looked around the room distastefully. “I see several other ‘friends' of Michael's here.” He shrugged, and turned to smile charmingly at her. “Have I told you how lovely you are tonight? You're something out of Tolstoy.”

She smiled back at him, wrinkling her nose saucily. “I should be. I was too busy slaving for you to go shopping, so Michael had wardrobe run me up this little number. I have an idea it was originally meant for a remake of
War and Peace
.”

All joking aside, she really loved the gown. It was an exquisitely simple garment in lemon yellow, embroidered with white daisies. The empire cut and low round neck merely hinted gracefully at the smallness of her waist and hips, but boldly accented the swell of her breasts. She wore no jewelry and only a garland of daisies on her head. Her hair had been brushed to a sensuous silken sheen and allowed to fall almost to her waist, to complement the romantic aura of the gown.