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heart gave a tiny thump of fright.
'What is going on, Trista?' he asked her. His voice was quiet but implacable.
'Nothing.' She made to turn away from him in the direction of the sink, but
he caught at her wrists, capturing them both in a firm, unbreakable grip.
'Come on,' he said. 'Come clean. What's happened to upset you?'
Looking at him blindly, she said, 'I'm not upset '
Pierce gave her a little shake. 'Don't tell me lies,' he said.
'What about you?' she shot back at him then.
'Me?' he said blankly. 'What about me? What are you talking about?'
She bit her lip. 'Have you never told me lies?' she challenged him. He still
had that almost frightening look in his eyes. She repeated huskily, 'Have you
never told me lies?'
He was silent for a moment before he said, 'In what connection, exactly?'
'Any connection!' she cried wildly. 'Have you?'
'No,' he said tersely. 'I don't tell lies, Trista. Now, will you for pete's sake tell
me what this is all about?'
'I saw you,' she said sulkily. 'Today. At lunch.'
His expression didn't alter by one iota. 'So?'
'I bumped into Sally,' she explained. 'Sally Cremorne she was at our
wedding . . .'
Impatiently, he repeated. 'So?'
'We . . . had lunch at that bistro, near your office.'
'So did I,' he said. 'I didn't see you.'
'I know. You were with Keita.'
He said in a level voice, 'I know who I had lunch with, thanks.' His hands
had tightened on her wrists. For the third time, he said, 'So?'
Trista looked down at their hands. Her shoulders lifted in a small, hopeless
shrug. 'You . . . were holding her hand.'
She saw his chest rise and fall. His grip shifted from her wrists to her
shoulders. He rocked her back and forth chidingly. 'Trista, Trista!' he said.
'You incredible little idiot! Why didn't you just come over and say hello?'
Her eyes sparkling with tears of chagrin, she said, 'How could I? You
seemed to be . . .'
His voice suddenly stern, he said, 'What?' And when she didn't answer, he
said, 'Go on. We seemed to be . . .?'
'I thought you wanted to be alone,' she muttered evasively. Then, looking up
she added resentfully, 'You were holding her hand!'
His mouth a little grim, he agreed. 'Yes, I was. And on the strength of that,
you concluded I was having a torrid affair with our junior partner, is that it?'
His hands tightened again. 'I'm not sure I oughtn't to spank you!' he said. 'I
think I'm insulted.'
She looked up at him hopefully. 'Well. . . what were you doing?'
'Having lunch,' he replied tantalisingly.
Trista's eyes sparked with temper, and he added, 'Taking Keita out to lunch
in the hope of helping her get over a stressful time. We'd been in court all
morning. She was assisting me in a child abuse case. She'd been fine with
the paperwork, very professional, very objective, reading all the nasty
details. But in court we were confronted with the victim. She hadn't had to
face that before. She was OK in there, but afterwards she let go a bit. I
thought it would do her good to have a drink and a decent meal, in the
company of someone who'd been through it and could understand what she
was feeling.'
'You're defending the abuser?'
'The alleged abuser. He's entitled to a fair trial, no matter what he's accused
of. It's my job to see he gets, it.'
'I know.' Her father had explained all that, when she was a young teenager
and full of indignant idealism.
'But Keita,' Pierce explained, 'was having her first crisis of that sort it's
something every young barrister must face, sooner or later.'
'So you . . . comforted her.'
'Yes.'
'And . . . that's all it was?' Her eyes searched his anxiously.
'For goodness' sake, Trista!' he said in a goaded voice. 'I shouldn't have to
tell you that!' He suddenly hauled her close and covered her mouth with an
angry, exasperated kiss, hard and passionate.
For a moment she remained rigid in his arms, then hers wound about him,
and she returned the kiss fiercely, with an overwhelming relief.
'You little fodP.' he groaned against her neck, holding her close. 'What on
earth gave you the idea that I'd think of any other woman when I've got you
. . .?'
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' she whispered, her lips feverishly touching his cheek,
his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth.
'I should think so!' His arms tightened until they endangered her ability to
breathe. 'I'll make you sorry, all right.'
She gave a breathless little squeal as he lifted her into his arms.
'Shut up!' he said masterfully.
Trista laughed, and he grinned back at her, then strode along the passage,
pushed the door of the bedroom shut with his foot and threw her on to the
softness of the bed.
'What are you going to do?' she asked in mock fear.
'Guess.' He dropped his tie to the carpet and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Demurely, she said, 'I can't think.'
Casting off the shirt, he sat on the bed and began taking off his shoes. 'Can't
you?' he asked. 'Use your imagination.'
Trista shut her eyes tightly. 'Oooh!'
She heard his soft laughter before he slid on to the bed beside her.
'I'm going to ravish you,' he said. And proceeded to do so.'
On Christmas Day they had lunch at Pierce's parents' house with the rest of
the family. Ken's mother was there, too, and Mrs Allyn had invited
Geoffrey, but he declined. Hester would have dinner at his house, and Pierce
and Trista were invited to join them.
When Trista, panting and smiling from a game of chase with the children,
picked up some plates from the table where they had eaten outdoors and
took them into the kitchen to help her mother-in-law, Mrs Allyn said quietly,
'Shouldn't you be taking it easy, dear?'
Surprised, Trista coloured. 'I'm all right.'
'You look blooming,' Pierce's mother assured her. 'I'm not surprised my son
can't keep his eyes off you. But you're pregnant, aren't you?'
'I'm not sure yet,' Trista said. 'I hope so .. . how did you know?'
Mrs Allyn chuckled. 'I'm surprised everyone hasn't twigged. 'Some women
get a special glow about them. To me, it's perfectly obvious. Have you said
anything to Pierce?'
Trista shook her head. A little nervously she added, 'Do you think he'll be
pleased?'
'My dear, he'll be delighted!' Mrs Allyn hugged her. 'Now you sit down in
the sun for a while. I can manage here, and I see Charley's on her way to help
anyway. Go and see a doctor after the holiday, and I'm sure you'll find I'm
right.'
'I haven't been feeling sick, or anything,' Trista told Glenda doubtfully, when
she visited her in her surgery. 'Shouldn't I be, by now?'
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