Читать книгу The Crown Affair - Lucy King, Lucy King - Страница 9

WELL, that had been something of a surprise, thought Laura, resisting the urge to punch the air and setting off in Matt’s wake instead. Having never employed such wily tactics before, she hadn’t really expected the pout and the eyelash flutter to work. But while she might be faintly stunned that they had, Matt, judging by the merciless pace he set as he stalked along the path, was fuming.

By the time they reached the front door of the house Laura was hot, panting and, without doubt, hideously red in the face. Matt, on the other hand, hadn’t broken a sweat.

If she was being brutally honest, her current breathlessness wasn’t entirely due to the unexpected exercise. She’d trotted along behind him, her gaze fixed to his lithe muscular frame as if magnetised, and her body had begun to hum with something other than adrenalin. The easy way he moved and the purposefulness of his stride had her thinking about all the other things he might do purposefully and easily, and her head had gone all fuzzy. She’d scraped her hair back into a messy ponytail in the faint hope it might cool her down but it hadn’t worked.

‘Where would you like to start?’ he snapped, dropping his keys onto the console table and whipping round to face her.

With the removal of his T-shirt ideally, Laura decided, totally distracted by the rippling muscles in his forearms as he crossed them over his chest. First she’d slide her hands beneath it and draw it over his head. Once she’d dealt with that she’d run her hands down his torso and tackle his belt. Then she’d undo the buttons of his jeans, hook her hands over the waistband and ease them down over his hips before pushing him down onto a deep soft sofa that was bound to be lurking somewhere around the place. And then she’d sink to her knees and—

‘Laura?’

Laura blinked and hurtled back to reality. God. She was doing it again. At the heat that rushed through her, her cheeks began to burn even more fiercely.

For the first time since she’d decided to become an architect she thanked God for the eighteenth century window tax that had bricked up thousands of windows and ultimately led to dark halls across the country. Including, to her eternal gratitude, this one.

‘Yes. Sorry.’ She blinked and swallowed and gathered her scattered wits. The house. He was talking about the house. Of course. ‘The—ah—attic, I think,’ she said. As far away from Matt and his disturbing effect on her equilibrium as possible.

‘I’ll take you to it,’ he said, heading for the stairs.

What? Alarm knotted her stomach. He was planning to accompany her? Laura shivered at the thought. With him watching her every move she’d never get anything done.

‘No,’ she blurted out.

Matt stopped, turned and stared at her in surprise. As well he might.

‘I mean, it’s fine,’ she added hastily with a quick smile. ‘I’m sure you have things to be getting on with and I should be able to find the attic. Top of the house, right?’

‘Where else?’

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing as if trying to work out if she was entirely trustworthy, and, what with the unorthodox methods she’d employed to inveigle her way inside his house, she couldn’t entirely blame him.

‘Well, quite.’ Laura swallowed hard and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘Look, Matt,’ she said, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, ‘I really do work better alone. And I promise not to run off with the silver.’

Matt frowned and then shrugged. ‘Fine. I’ll be in the library if you need anything.’

Oh, for God’s sake, Matt thought, scowling down at the report into Sassania’s fishing quotas that he’d been trying to work on and shoving it aside. How long did getting a few photos take? The house wasn’t that big, but Laura had been up there for an hour at least. She couldn’t have found that much of architectural interest, could she?

Something banged right above his head and Matt winced. Perhaps she had. Judging by the sounds of scraping furniture and the hammering on walls that had been coming from various parts of the house, Laura was taking the whole place apart.

While part of him reluctantly admired her thoroughness and determination, another, more persistent part of him had spent the past hour wondering whether her enthusiasm and passion for her work carried over into other areas of life. Like sex.

An image of her lying on his bed, naked, her hair spilling all over his pillows, her long tanned limbs tangled in his sheets, her eyes all slumberous and inviting, slammed into his head yet again and his body stiffened painfully.

Matt shoved his hands through his hair and ground his teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous. He was a sensible rational man of thirty-three, not a hormone-ridden adolescent. So why was he finding it so hard to concentrate? Why had he spent the past ten minutes reading the same page of that damned report with still no idea of what it was about?

It hadn’t been that long since he’d had sex, had it? He cast his mind back and tried to remember the last time he’d had a woman in his bed. Was it six months ago? A year? Surely it couldn’t be longer than that, could it?

Matt frowned. Even if it was, there was no need to panic. He’d been busy. That was all. And it wasn’t as if he needed sex. He’d gone far longer without it and had survived perfectly well.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs. His blood rushed to his head and he pushed himself away from his desk and leapt to his feet. He needed to get out, before he did something really rash like bundle her back upstairs and demand she show him the architectural features of his bedroom.

He’d go and chop what was left of those logs. The release of hard physical work after spending months in stifling meeting rooms had worked earlier. It would work now. Just to be on the safe side he’d stay out there until she’d finished. If he ran out of logs, he’d fire up the lawnmower.

And there was another benefit of his strategy, he thought, identifying the sound of a camera clicking coming from the drawing room and striding across the hall. Laura could let herself out. Once he’d told her where he was going he need never lay eyes on her ever again. And then maybe, just maybe, his body would stop twitching and aching and straining, and he’d regain some sort of equilibrium.

Good. Excellent. It was a brilliant plan. With every step he took he could feel his head clearing and his sanity returning.

Until he got to the doorway. Where he stopped dead.

As he’d figured, Laura was in the drawing room. What he hadn’t allowed for was that she’d be investigating the fireplace. With her back to him, on her knees. With her legs spread and her bottom in the air.

His gaze dropped, automatically zooming in on her bottom, and as his blood rushed to his feet and his body began to pound with lust the breath whooshed from his lungs and his brilliant plan turned to dust.

Laura sensed Matt’s presence a nanosecond before she heard it. The nape of her neck pricked, her pulse skipped and goosebumps sprang up all over her skin. And then she caught the sharp exhalation of breath and the muttered oath, and with utter horror the picture she realised she must be presenting flashed into her head.

Barely a minute ago she’d walked into the drawing room and immediately spied the ornamented fireback of the fireplace. She’d rattled off a couple of photos before hunkering down to take a closer look. As a result she was on her hands and knees, face to the stone and bottom to the air.

Oh, God. A cold clammy sweat broke out over her entire body as mortification flooded through her. It was so not a good look. Heaven only knew what Matt must be thinking.

Desperately seeking to claw back some kind of dignity, Laura clambered to her feet as elegantly and quickly as she could.

Which would have been absolutely fine had she not been tucked inside a four-foot-high fireplace.

Realisation came way too late.

As did Matt’s shout of warning.

With a sickening thud her skull cracked against solid seventeenth century stone. Her yelp of shock ricocheted around the fireplace. For a second she could feel absolutely nothing. Could see nothing but a fuzzy sort of blackness dotted with stars. Could hear nothing but the hammering of her heart.

Then as the blackness faded an excruciating pain shot the entire length of her body and spread throughout her limbs. She let out an agonised gasp. Her stomach churned and sent a wave of nausea rolling into her throat. Her knees buckled and she crumpled. She screwed her eyes tight shut and braced herself for more unimaginable pain.

Which didn’t come.

How strange. Where was the agony? Where was the shock?

Faintly bewildered, Laura just hung there for a second, suspended by two bands of steel that had come from who knew where and snapped round her waist. Come to think of it, what exactly was the solid thing she was pressed up against and why was her body suddenly zinging with electricity?

Her heart beginning to pound even faster, Laura gingerly opened her eyes. And found herself staring straight up into Matt’s, so close, so dark and so focused on her that she nearly saw stars all over again.

When he’d caught her he’d evidently had to clamp her to him. Now every inch of her body was plastered up against his and awareness fizzled along her nerve endings. She could feel the tension in his muscles as he held her. She could feel his heart banging against the palm of her hand. The intoxicating scent of him enveloped her, seeped into her head and made her dizzy.

He was so close she could see flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes. So close his mouth was barely an inch from her own. The lingering traces of pain and shock receded and slow drugging desire began to hum in the pit of her stomach.

Laura’s pulse leapt. Her lips actually tingled. All she’d have to do would be to lift her head a fraction and she could put an end to the speculation and find out exactly what he tasted like. Perhaps she could blame it on concussion, because, Lord, it was tempting.

But it was also just not on, Laura reminded herself, dragging her gaze from Matt’s mouth and fixing it firmly on the wedge of tanned flesh exposed by the V of his T-shirt.

The only reason she was in his house was because she’d guilt-tripped him into it. He didn’t really want her here and, as was clear from the scowl on his face, he wasn’t exactly ecstatic about having had to jump to her rescue.

A kiss from her would be about as welcome to him as UPVC windows were to her. No doubt about it.

Unfortunately knowing that wasn’t apparently enough to stop a deep sigh of longing escaping her lips.

Heat rushed to her cheeks in the silence that followed. God, she really hoped Matt hadn’t caught that. And she really hoped he couldn’t feel her swelling breasts and hardening nipples press against his chest.

But as his arms tightened around her any hope she might have had that he hadn’t noticed her reaction to him evaporated. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes jerked up and met his just in time to catch something flaring in the brown depths. Barely a flash, but it was enough to set her heart galloping and her head spinning. And then she felt another part of his anatomy flaring and the bottom fell out of her stomach.

Oh, good Lord.

It wasn’t just her. He felt it, too. Laura’s heart thumped. Judging by the impressive evidence swelling against her hip, Matt was as attracted to her as she was to him. His head was moving forward. His eyes were darkening as they roamed over her face, lingering on her mouth before sweeping back up to meet hers.

For a split second delight shot through her and then quite suddenly panic elbowed the delight aside and thumped her squarely in the chest. Her nerves started to twist into a tangled mess.

Oh, God. If Matt did want her as much as she wanted him then she ought to leave. As soon as possible.

Because if he did make a move and kissed her, she’d never be able to resist. One thing would lead to another and another and another, and before she knew it she’d be back where she started, assertiveness course or no assertiveness course.

It would be even worse if he didn’t kiss her. Because then the danger was that what with her highly unstable behaviour of late she’d be the one to make a move.

Either way the outcome would be a disaster of epic proportions.

So why wasn’t she pushing him away? Why was she letting him get closer?

Time seemed to skid to a halt and Laura couldn’t move. Matt’s hand came up to cup her face and her skin burned as if he’d branded her. Anticipation thundered through her and her bones melted. When he slid his hand up and threaded his fingers through her hair Laura couldn’t help lifting her face. Couldn’t stop her breath hitching and her lips parting.

God, who cared if she couldn’t resist? If this was wrong, why did it feel so right? Her gaze dropped to his mouth and her heart hammered. Desperation to taste him clawed at her insides and she had to bite on her lip to stop another whimper of need escaping.

‘It doesn’t look as if you need stitches,’ he murmured, ‘but you’ll have quite a bump.’

What?

Laura froze. The whimper died in her throat. For a moment bewilderment besieged her brain. And then clarity dawned and she went scorchingly hot.

Agh. The bump on her head couldn’t possibly be any bigger than the one she’d just had crashing back to reality.

What on earth was the matter with her? How could she have got it so wrong? Thank God Matt had drawn back before she’d lost patience and grasped the initiative.

At the thought of just how massive a fool she could have made of herself mortification roared through her and made her cheeks burn. God, was there no hope for her?

Suddenly desperate to get away, Laura wriggled in his arms and pushed against his chest. When his arms loosened she stepped back. And nearly collapsed all over again.

‘Steady,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and keeping her upright.

Laura summoned strength to her watery limbs, shook herself free and forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Look,’ she said with a calmness she really didn’t feel. ‘Thank you for catching me and everything, but you must be busy and I’ve imposed quite long enough. I think I should go.’

Ten minutes ago Matt would have been first in line to agree. Now, with lust ricocheting around him so violently it made his head spin, he wasn’t so sure.

He could still feel Laura in his arms, all that warmth and softness crushed up against him. Her scent, something light and jasminey, was still floating around inside his head. The memory of the smoothness of her cheek beneath his palm and the silkiness of her hair winding round his fingers made his hands itch to touch her again.

When she’d looked up at him with those extraordinary eyes of hers, her mouth parting and her breathing shallow, practically inviting him to kiss her senseless, it had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to do exactly that. Quite apart from the fact that he’d decided he really couldn’t go there, she’d just banged her head. She might well have concussion.

Matt gritted his teeth and fought back the desire to haul her into his arms. Maybe he’d banged his head, too. Maybe he had concussion. What else could be causing this pummelling urge to disregard his common sense, throw caution to the wind, drag her down to the sofa and sink himself inside her?

It would be utter madness. He was about to disappear off to another country. He could promise her nothing even if he’d wanted to.

But it would also be fantastic. Dynamite. It would certainly beat chopping logs the whole weekend. It had been too long since he’d had a woman in his bed and who knew when the opportunity would next arise? Who knew when he’d have the time?

Desire pounded through him and his control began to unravel.

‘Matt?’ she said with a sexy kind of breathiness that had him envisaging her saying his name in a whole lot of other ways.

At the images that spun through his head, the last vestiges of his resistance crumbled and Matt gave in. He wanted her. She wanted him. Why shouldn’t they go for it and to hell with the consequences?

Ruthlessly ignoring the little voice inside his head demanding to know what on earth he thought he was doing, Matt tilted his head and gave her a slow smile. ‘I think you should stay.’