Читать книгу The Sheikh Who Loved Her - Kate Hardy - Страница 11

WHAT the hell?

As they entered the bar Razi’s gaze was immediately drawn to the stage where Lucy was singing.

Lucy was singing?

He couldn’t believe his eyes, though he’d have known her anywhere. But this was a very different Lucy. Her hair was a shimmering curtain of gold, hanging to her waist, and she was wearing make-up that enhanced her features without being too heavy. Her top was something blue and soft that framed her face and set off the lustre of her hair, but it was her singing voice that really captivated him—as it had every other man in the room.

His expression darkened as he took in all the other male onlookers lusting after Lucy. Her singing and the sincerity of her interpretation had them gripped. Her voice was richly seductive and as beautiful as if it came from her very soul. It was also the husky tone he had imagined hearing in bed …

There was a solid mass of bodies at front of the stage between him and Lucy, but it parted for him like the Red Sea. He didn’t even have to elbow his way through. His motors were running and everyone knew it. No one cared to get in his way. She had finished her song and the audience was demanding an encore. Men were cheering and wolf-whistling as he reached the front, by which time she was singing again. The fact that that they found her pleasing was irrelevant to him—or maybe even made it worse. His warrior ancestry pressed down on him. The fact that he adored women demanded action. For however short a time Lucy Tennant was his to protect and defend—

And make love to, he added silently as she stared at him in alarm.

Her voice faltered. The audience fell silent. The tension mounted. He sensed a tipping moment when the crowd would either cheer her to the rafters or boo her off the stage. Her eyes locked with his in silent appeal.

For one fire-burst moment she was so high on adrenalin she exulted in the fact that Mac was staring at her. She had been persuaded to sing an encore, but she wanted to sing for Mac—so he could see who she could be and hear what she could never hope to express in words. This was Lucy Tennant flying high and wide, allowing the music to speak for her. Singing made anything possible …

Or would have done, had not Mac’s eyes been narrowed. With disapproval? It was hard to tell. He was looking at her—the audience was looking at him—and then at her. And back to Mac. Their little drama was proving far more interesting than the karaoke competition and she could hardly ignore him. Slowly but surely all her confidence-inspiring adrenalin seeped away, and then everything spiralled in. What was she doing singing on a stage—other than looking ridiculous?

But then the incredible happened. Mac’s face changed, relaxed. His eyes darkened as he stared at her and his mouth slowly curved in a sexy smile. Was that a nod of approval? Was it? Mac wanted her to sing for him and that was what she was going to do.

The moment she started singing again everyone began to cheer. They were on their feet applauding her—a noisy frame to the stillness that had developed between her and Mac. By the time she had finished the song, she was oblivious to the cheers. She was trembling all over, her brain in a whirl of confusion. How amazing that moment of connection between them had felt! Mac’s power … His reaction to her singing … Her reaction to him … Arousal … Frustration. Overwhelming relief …

Mostly relief, Lucy realised now she was coming back down to earth. A few more seconds on stage without Mac willing her on and she might have turned into her usual bashful self—and for a crowd fuelled up on drink and excitement that wouldn’t have worked.

Now she’d won. Incredibly, she’d won. She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as her friends crowded to the front of the stage. Mac stood at the side at the foot of the steps, quietly waiting for her. That was perhaps the sexiest, the most telling moment of all. They had to call her name twice she was so distracted by him, and on the second time of calling her Mac looked up, his face creasing in the familiar bad-boy smile as he slowly began to applaud without ever once losing eye contact with her. ‘Go on,’ he mouthed. ‘You won …’

Still shaking her head, she walked forward to accept her prize.

‘I don’t know why you find it so surprising,’ Mac said, offering her his hand to help her down the steps at the side of the stage. ‘You have a great voice, Lucy—and a great way of putting a song across.’ He shrugged, muscles easing across the wide spread of his shoulders as he stared down at her with humour in his eyes.

‘You’re still here,’ she said foolishly, all her shyness returning in a rush. Being on stage was one thing—being here in front of Mac with no spotlights between them was something else.

‘Of course I’m still here,’ he said as if she’d said something very puzzling indeed. ‘Why would I go?’

Breathing was hard suddenly. She could think of a million reasons why he would go, but she wasn’t going to give him any hints. Instead she forced a laugh, knowing he had to be joking. Mac was a guest and she was a chalet girl. He didn’t want her—not in that way.

‘Drink?’ he suggested. ‘Or back to the chalet?’

She blinked, refocusing in a rush. There was no mistaking his meaning. Even she wasn’t naïve enough for that. It was all there in his eyes and in Mac’s body language. It didn’t come much more direct. His eyes spoke of sensual promise. There could be no misunderstanding. And, of course, she should rebuff, rebel, refuse—and to hell with the fact that Mac was a guest and she mustn’t offend him—

But there was a small problem with that. She wanted him.

She was violently aroused.

Mac’s compelling gaze didn’t waver from her face for a single moment, and suddenly the thought that he might want her back at the chalet to clear out the cinders or coddle him an egg seemed far more ridiculous than the realisation that he wanted her in bed. Mac, in casual clothes that moulded his powerful frame with formidable attention to detail, wanted her.

Mac, who looked as fresh and ready for action as if he hadn’t been thrashing the slopes for the past few hours, wanted her?

He looked lush. Mac was the quintessential forbidden fruit. She would miss out on her taste if she didn’t find the courage to seize the moment—and when better than now? She would never get another chance like this one. ‘I’d better get my coat.’

‘You better had,’ he said.

He felt a surge of heat and triumph—not that the final outcome had ever been in any doubt. Lucy had needs and he had urges. It was a match made in … Val d’Isere. It was a match that would last for precisely one night. He’d leave her happy, but he’d leave. His playboy life was over. Duty beckoned and he was ready to serve.

He smiled as she came shyly towards him, all buttoned up and ready to be undressed. He’d serve Lucy Tennant and then he’d serve Isla de Sinnebar with the same focus and energy—though for a lifetime rather than a single night.

By the time they reached the chalet he had extended Lucy’s time with him to one night and one day to accommodate all his plans. He enjoyed her company. He loved her voice. She didn’t have the slightest idea how beautiful she was. Granted, the outfit she was wearing now was dull, but that only whetted his appetite for unpeeling her. She’d be like a ripe, delicious fruit emerging from layers of tasteless pith, and from what he’d seen of Lucy on stage there was enough sensitivity and passion to keep his interest way beyond a single night. It was just a shame life didn’t work that way. However he felt about her and whatever happened between them, duty would always come first for him, but that was no reason not to make the most of the time they had.

The chalet was empty when they got back. Taking off her boots slowly, she could feel herself blushing scarlet, second-guessing his plans. When it came to sex she knew she could only disappoint. What she knew about sex could be written on a pin head and to date Mac had only seen her camouflaged in layers of clothing, but when that came off—

‘Are you cold? Shall I run a bath for you?’

She stared at him incredulously. Mac run a bath for her? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

His smile widened. ‘Better still, let’s use the hot tub together. Don’t pretend it hasn’t occurred to you.’

Now his arm was round her shoulder and he was leading her up the quaint wooden stairs, past the cosy living room, and on up the next flight of stairs to the main bedrooms, and then up another flight to the master suite on the top floor, which was entirely his.

She was trembling so hard she hardly registered what was happening as he closed the door behind them. Unzipping his jacket, he tugged it off and tossed it aside. ‘Your turn,’ he said, flashing a glance down the length of her safely bundled-up body.

He wanted to play striptease? ‘I want to thank you for not sacking me,’ she said primly, clinging with everything she’d got to the one thing that made some sense.

‘I don’t talk business after six o’clock—it’s a rule I have,’ he murmured, toying with the toggle on her jacket. ‘And I’m still waiting. For you to take it off?’ he prompted, angling his chin to direct his amused stare into her eyes.

She supposed that was okay. Unzipping her jacket self-consciously, she hung it neatly on a chair.

Mac flipped the braces off his ski pants and tugged off his top.

She gasped and looked away.

‘I’m waiting, Lucy.’

Match that impossibly hard-muscled torso with something he’d find desirable? Match Mac’s confidence? She couldn’t—She really couldn’t—

Mac gave her no chance to nurse her concerns. One minute he was leaning against the wall, looking relaxed, and the next she was in his arms.

‘Shy?’ he murmured. ‘I like that. Though I would never have guessed you were shy after seeing you on stage tonight.’ His mouth curved in a wicked grin, only millimetres from her mouth.

‘That was a one-off,’ she admitted, staring into his eyes.

This was all happening so fast she felt dizzy. But in a good way, Lucy decided. The sensation of being pressed into hard, unyielding muscle was amazing—and would have been even more so without quite so many layers in between. Mac toyed with the zipper on her fleece, sliding it down slowly. All she could think of was his erection, pressing insistently huge and hard against her. To say she was melting with desire was something of an understatement.

‘Say something,’ he murmured.

‘I can’t …’

Cupping her buttocks possessively, he smiled. ‘You’re right—why waste time talking?’

His hands tightened and released until every pleasurable sensation she had ever known in her life was exceeded by infinity. She couldn’t stifle a moan or breathe steadily or pretend a moment longer. Every nerve ending in her body was primed and ready—every resolution she had ever made to remain at least pure-ish until The One came along meant nothing. There was no past, no future, there was only this, longing for Mac to make love to her.

As if sensing this change, he took her hand, linking their fingers in a gesture that was both deeply intimate and reassuring. He led her past the king-sized bed she had dressed herself with crisp white sheets, and on towards the doorway leading into the impossibly luxurious bathroom and from there to the deck and the hot tub. She cleaned the area twice a day and knew it well. She had even stood here dreaming, but she had never imagined in her wildest dreams that one day she might use it, let alone make love in it. It was as if she was seeing it all again through new eyes—the exquisite apricot-veined marble that complemented the azure skies and shimmering snow-capped mountains in daylight, now framed in black velvet shimmering with diamond stars. There was an uninterrupted wall of glass overlooking the moonlit mountains, and, as far as she was concerned, it was the most romantic place on earth …

‘Second thoughts?’ Mac murmured, misunderstanding her silence as she stood gazing out.

‘None,’ she assured him.

‘Do you want to get undressed in the bedroom?’ Lifting her hand to his lips, he held her gaze.

She looked so vulnerable she touched some long-forgotten part of him. He had learned to switch his feelings on and off like a light bulb as a boy when it had been the only way to cope with the disappointment of promised visits from a mother who never came to see him. Now he understood his mother had had too much to lose. The ruling sheikh, his father, wouldn’t tolerate his mistress having another love interest—even if that love interest was their son. His mother had had to forget him, just as he had learned to forget all the other women who had passed through his life. But Lucy was different—at least, she was for tonight.

The hot tub was bubbling temptingly and steam was rising into the night sky by the time she returned from the bedroom. There was a mountain range of foam waiting for her to step into. He was gazing east towards the Isla de Sinnebar when she pushed the door open and came out to meet him. His heart juddered when he saw her. He was still half naked and his feet were bare, while Lucy was wearing an abundance of duvet in stark white—and still managing to look indescribably lovely to him.

‘You won’t need the duvet in the hot tub.’ He grinned as he held out his hand to take it from her.

She stood her ground, clutching it tightly.

‘Have you changed your mind?’ He would never force her. ‘Do you want me to leave you to it?’

‘No need,’ she whispered. And taking a deep breath, she dropped the duvet and walked towards him.

Two more paces and she was in his arms.

‘Are you going to bathe with your clothes on, Mac?’

He smiled into her eyes. She was so trusting and so beautiful, and just for tonight they were going to live the dream.

She glanced at the glittering foam. ‘Shall I undress you?’ she suggested shyly. Her voice was shaking.

He smiled down at her. ‘Or you could enjoy the hot tub all by yourself.’

She held his gaze with her honest eyes. ‘I don’t trust myself in all that water without something to hold on to …’

His lips tugged in a grin. ‘You have all the answers, don’t you?’

‘It’s work in progress,’ she admitted with the truthfulness he loved about her, and then her face grew serious as she no doubt contemplated what was about to happen.

His mood changed too. Pushing the last of his doubts aside, he laced his fingers through her hair and, cupping her head, drew her close to kiss her. Her lips were plump and yielded softly beneath his mouth. Kissing Lucy filled him with feelings he couldn’t name—feelings it was better not to name. Sex was what they both wanted and needed, and sex, like skiing, was a sport at which he excelled.