Читать книгу Susan Stephens Selection: The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King - Susan Stephens, Susan Stephens - Страница 13

CHAPTER EIGHT

THERE was no time to dwell on Guy’s disapproval. The moment Kate returned downstairs she was thrown into the thick of things. While she had been getting ready the whole village seemed to have descended on the cottage. She felt a stab of disappointment when she saw the kitchen was deserted, with no sign of Guy. But hearing a steady rumble of conversation outside, punctuated by laughter and shouts of recognition, she knew she had to get over it. She had shed her working outfit in favour of a simple linen dress in a soft shade of lavender and, having brushed out her long hair in frantic haste, she’d chosen the fastest option, leaving it loose to billow around her shoulders in a bright golden haze.

The strong afternoon sunlight was already mellowing into a rich apricot glow as she hurried to remove some warm apple brioche out of the warming oven. After dusting the sweet bread with icing sugar, she slipped it on to a large oval dish and placed it on to a tray, ready to go outside. Hovering for a moment by the window, Kate couldn’t help smiling to see Monsieur Dupont, missing only his badge of office—his crisp white jacket—holding court with the new arrivals clustered around him… Then she spotted Giles’s wife, Elise, chatting with Megan, and Madame Duplessis actually flushing with pleasure as she held the attention of the brawny young village blacksmith. And someone had thought to bring an accordion, and was playing so well that a few people had already started dancing on the stone-flagged patio.

The party was a success, she realised happily. And best of all, she decided as her gaze rested upon a tiny, but elegant figure, Guy’s mother was moving around the garden, offering titbits to the villagers and basking in their obvious delight at seeing her again—the men whipping off their hats and the women’s eyes full of pleasure to see this evidence of her recovery. Food was a great icebreaker, Kate mused, as she lifted out a large plastic container of her own cardamom ice-cream from one of the cooler bags Madame Duplessis had thought to bring over from the château. Putting the ice cream and a scoop next to the brioche, she opened the door, picked up the tray and hurried outside.

‘Félicitations!’

‘Guy! I thought you’d gone.’ Kate tensed as she gazed up, then relaxed into bemused speculation as she weighed up his outfit. His strong tanned arms shaded with dark hair and ornamented by nothing more than a slim gold watch on a black leather strap were now adorned with a tea towel! ‘What on earth are you doing with that?’ she said, noticing a second one he’d tied around his waist to cover his linen trousers. After all that had happened, his narrow-eyed look of wry indulgence was all the more surprising.

‘Someone had to take charge of the barbecue,’ he said dryly. ‘You surely didn’t think I’d leave it to Megan…?’

‘Why not? She’s perfectly capable.’ Kate’s heart jumped when she saw a humorous twist tug at his lips.

‘When she’s not distracted, I’d agree with you,’ Guy agreed evenly. ‘But right now…’

He shrugged and as Kate followed his gaze she saw Guy’s chauffeur busily plying Megan with morsels of cake from his plate.

‘I’ve heard of angel cake, but never Cupid’s,’ Guy murmured as he removed the tray from her hands.

When the villagers saw their Count bearing down on them with yet more delectable food a space was quickly cleared on the table for him and a queue formed for the pudding. Elise hurried over to take care of the serving, and then Guy found that his place at the barbecue had also been supplanted, this time by Monsieur Dupont. Just behind the barbecue an old feed trough had been packed with ice and filled with bottles of wine. Tossing his temporary apron aside, Guy filled up two glasses and returned to Kate’s side.

‘Buves ceci,’ he said, pressing the glass into her hand. ‘You look like you could use it.’

As compliments went, she’d heard better, but at least he was true to his word. Not only was he behaving as if no dispute existed between them, but he’d stayed on to help and had entered into the spirit of the party… So calm down, Kate told herself. ‘Thank you, it’s delicious,’ she murmured, keeping her eyes safely fixed on the pale golden liquid.

‘What can you smell?’ Guy demanded, jolting her attention back to his face when she had been so resolved not to succumb.

‘It’s your wine?’

‘Naturellement,’ he said expansively. ‘Now, concentrate and tell me what aromas you can detect.’

‘Concentrate?’ Was he joking?

‘I’ll show you,’ Guy said, putting his own glass down. Coming to stand behind her, he put his hand over hers and held the glass up so that it was well out in front of her. ‘Belle robe!’ he exclaimed softly.

‘You like my dress?’ Kate queried uncertainly, intensely conscious of the pulse that seemed to be throbbing through her hand, a pulse she was sure he must feel too.

‘In this context,’ he murmured, ‘I am remarking on the beautiful colour of the wine.’

‘I see,’ Kate said, attempting studious attention when she was sure the quality of her voice was enough to give her away.

‘Now we swirl and sniff.’

‘We do?’

After a quick rotation of the glass, Guy reached under her long hair with his other hand to find the sensitive area at the back of her neck, his thumb controlling, his fingers splaying to nurse her scalp. ‘Breathe in through your nose,’ he commanded softly, encouraging her forward, ‘and then tell me what you have discovered.’

Nothing she could safely tell him about, Kate thought ruefully as she obeyed him.

‘Well, Kate?’ he demanded, clearly expecting some erudite comment.

‘Er… Honey, melon…sunshine?’ she added in desperation.

‘Très bien,’ he drawled.

His praise thrilled through her and, considering the exceptional circumstances, Kate couldn’t help feeling rather pleased with herself.

‘Now sip,’ he instructed as he brought the glass to her lips.

‘Can I swallow?’

His look was X-rated. ‘I’ll leave that up to you,’ he murmured dryly.

‘Mmm, delicious,’ she said, flashing him a wide-eyed look.

‘Here, let me take that,’ Guy said, removing the glass from her hand, his face a mask of beautifully controlled amusement. ‘Shall we dance?’

‘Dance?’

‘Yes, you know,’ he prompted softly. ‘I take hold of you and we move together rhythmically.’

This was one game she was never going to win, Kate decided. Nonchalant compliance was the only way if she was to stand a chance of concealing the ridiculous amount of happiness bubbling away inside her at the realisation that he seemed to have forgiven her.

Taking her silence for assent, Guy linked her arm through his and led her towards the patio. Men and women and children were packed in, jostling for space as they danced to the boisterous music. But as soon as they saw Guy approaching some people nudged others and others stopped dancing altogether, until finally the accordionist’s fingers faltered and then stilled.

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, Kate pinned an apologetic smile to her face as she glanced around. Perhaps this was as good a moment as any to return to the kitchen.

Sensing her uncertainty, Guy firmed his grip on her arm. ‘Continuez…please,’ he insisted. ‘Mademoiselle Foster is a little timid…’

‘No, I’m not!’ Kate whispered fiercely.

He gave a rueful shrug, the corners of his mouth sloping in wry amusement as the music started up again, but at a more sedate pace—and Kate aimed a kick at his shins. ‘Missed,’ he said, contentedly drawing her close.

With her defiance dispatched at a touch, Kate’s senses flared beneath Guy’s controlling hands. Firm, but restrained, he left her in no doubt that she would not be allowed to get away until he was ready. Not that she wanted to…ever. But this was only power play for him, she reminded herself forcefully. Guy had always relished the opportunity to bait what he called her wilful spirit—and nothing had changed. She had no doubt he would wield that same power—and with swingeing attention to detail when it came to asserting the wretched covenants when it suited him. But until then… Constraint was seductive, she realised, as the smallest movement of his fingers caused her own to respond, yielding; searching, until the urge to explore the contours of his enclosing fist was impossible to ignore.

Guy made no move either to discourage or encourage, but simply permitted her to twine her fingers through his. It was enough. She was on fire for him. He responded with equal subtlety, one hand shifting very slightly on her waist, increasing the pressure as they moved easily together to the music. His message was unmistakable…if she chose to hear it. Kate flicked a glance around but, having accepted the fact that their Count was happy to mingle with them on the makeshift dance floor, everyone had started dancing again. There was no one to see as she rested her cheek against his chest and wondered what it would be like to have Guy make love to her…to see him focus his mind, his strength and his considerable finesse on pleasuring her.

She could feel the hard contours of his body through the lightweight summer fabrics and picturing him without any clothes on at all didn’t take a great leap of the imagination. The thought of Guy stretched out completely naked and fully exposed for her to enjoy on some huge bed was intoxicating. How small she would look next to him, Kate mused, sighing with delicious anticipation as she pressed her breasts up against an unyielding expanse of chest… He would overwhelm her…engulf her with his powerful frame which, if the laws of proportion held true, meant that this wonderful body currently nudging against every erogenous zone she possessed would be completed by the most magnificent erection—the very thought of which sent a bolt of sensation shimmering down her spine to lodge in a place that was already disgracefully receptive. For a moment she could think of nothing at all as she allowed some tantalising little spasms to herald a foretaste of his lovemaking.

She felt his arms tighten around her, almost as if he sensed what was happening, sensed it and supported her so that she could relax into the startlingly pleasurable waves. A moan that was little more than a sigh escaped her as they faded away again far too soon… Hearing that, he stroked one hand very slowly down the length of her back almost as if to console her. She had always known Guy would be a wonderful and intuitive lover; one who knew just how to draw out the pleasure for her until she was forced to beg him for release. He would choose the moment—he would know when to tip her over the edge. He might be all charm, elegance and sophistication on the outside, but those wickedly expressive eyes and all too knowledgeable hands gave him away… They belonged to a connoisseur of the sensual arts, and one who was driving her crazy right now with his whispering passes of a rock-hard thigh against the pulsing site of her arousal.

‘Forgive me, Kate… Kate.’ He was forced to repeat her name a little louder to drag her back from her erotic daydreams.

‘Forgive you—’ she murmured distractedly, looking up at him with eyes clouded with desire. ‘For what?’

‘I haven’t been paying you enough attention,’ he murmured, a gleam of intuition brightening his gaze as he stared down at her.

As his cool minty breath caressed her neck Kate felt all the tiny hairs stand erect. Had he been neglecting her? If this was how it felt to be ignored she couldn’t wait to have his full attention. ‘Have you been sidetracked? I hadn’t noticed.’ His eyes were dark with humour when she looked up into them.

‘Bien, I’ve been talking to quite a few people,’ he said. ‘You must have noticed.’

‘Well, I didn’t,’ Kate said, adding by way of an excuse, ‘I’ve been enjoying the dancing too much.’

‘So that’s what it was,’ he said, pretending to be serious, though she could see the amusement tugging at his lips.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Those little sighs of yours,’ he murmured within nibbling distance of her ear.

He seemed to stop just short of exploring it with his tongue and Kate could do nothing to stop the shiver that vibrated through his hands. ‘So, what were you talking about?’ she said, looking for safer ground.

‘Oh, the little personal things that worry people the most.’

‘I suppose setting the business back on track has taken up all your time.’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘And the business must remain a prime concern if it is to flourish. But I think I’ve turned the corner so it’s time to play catch-up on everything I’ve been missing.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, I have time to take a look around at what’s happening closer to home,’ he said enigmatically, falling into the rhythm of the slow dance again.

As the darkening sky became tinged with tangerine and magenta their fellow dancers slipped away and it was a moment or two before Kate realised that the music had stopped.

‘No, you two, please don’t stop on my account—’

As the voice of Guy’s mother slipped between Kate and her fantasy, Guy showed no inclination to release her.

‘What a lovely party, my dear,’ the Countess said, touching her arm. ‘We are all so very grateful to you—’

‘Oh, no, it was nothing—’

‘It was a great deal more than nothing,’ the Countess reprimanded her gently. ‘You have no idea how it brought people together and made them so happy that all their worries were left behind for an afternoon. Why,’ she exclaimed, ‘I can’t remember anything quite like it since—’ She stopped suddenly and Guy reached out his hand. The Countess took it in a firm grip. ‘Look at you, you lucky man!’ she said, collecting herself hurriedly.

‘A beautiful woman on each arm,’ he supplied, smiling down at her.

He drew both of them close, planting a kiss on the crown of each head. He would have to make it fair—for the sake of appearances, Kate realised, exchanging smiles with the Countess. ‘I’m so pleased you enjoyed yourself. And now you’ve been to see us, don’t be a stranger.’

‘Well, actually, that’s the reason I wanted to have a word with you,’ the Countess said, casting a measuring glance at Kate from beneath a thick fringe of lashes so like her son’s.

‘Shall we sit down, Mother?’ Guy suggested, moving to take her arm.

‘Contrary to what you might think, Guy,’ she informed him promptly, ‘I am quite capable of dancing the night away should I choose to do so.’

‘Of course, Mother,’ he said, inclining his head in a brief bow.

‘Now, Kate,’ she said, turning the full beam of still beautiful eyes on Kate’s face. ‘Megan said it would make more sense if I stayed over at the cottage tonight, and I wanted to speak to you before I agreed. You see,’ she continued, seeing Kate’s face light up with interest, ‘Megan has a plan.’

‘A plan?’ Guy queried.

‘To paint the river at dawn—to capture the special way light filters through the trees… You don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind, Mother… Kate?’

Kate thought quickly. There was still a very nice guest room going spare, overlooking the garden. ‘Of course I don’t mind. In fact, I’ll probably join you on the painting expedition—’

‘Ah…’ The Countess looked crestfallen for a moment.

‘Is there a problem?’ Kate said gently, all her energies focused on nurturing the Countess’s tentative return to the outside world.

‘My plants—’

‘The gardeners can very easily add your prize collection to their watering duties,’ Guy pointed out with typical masculine pragmatism.

‘Out of the question,’ his mother corrected firmly. ‘I trust those plants to no one—but Kate. You will do that for me, dear?’

‘Of course, but…’

‘Last thing at night and first thing in the morning,’ the Countess instructed, shooting a warning glance at her son. ‘You’ll find the feed by the side of the watering can. Guy will show you what to do.’ And, having made her wishes clear, she gave Kate’s arm a grateful pat then sailed back to join Megan’s group of fledgling artists, a group Kate was thrilled to see had grown to include a number of villagers as well as the guests from La Petite Maison.

Realising that either Guy or his chauffeur was now destined to run to and fro with her from the château, Kate turned to offer her apologies.

‘I’m very grateful to you for the improvement I see in my mother,’ he said bluntly. ‘And, frankly, I don’t see the problem. Stay over,’ he said as if he was inviting her to take tea on the lawn. ‘I don’t think we should compromise her recovery by placing unnecessary obstacles in her path, do you?’

‘Well, no… No, of course not.’ Kate’s heart stopped. Guy’s invitation was so tempting, so full of possibilities. ‘But do I really need to stay?’ she said, longing for him to insist she did.

‘Why not? It’s not as if I’m short of bedrooms, and you’ve stayed at the château before.’

‘But it will only take a couple of minutes at most to see to the plants—’

‘I thought we had a lot to talk about.’

So much for fantasies! She might have known the covenants would raise their ugly heads sooner or later.

‘We might have another drink,’ Guy told her reasonably. ‘Then I shan’t want to drive.’

‘But your driver—’

‘Will be at Madame Duplessis’s disposal.’

Kate thought about it for a moment. Much as she hated being backed into a corner, she could hardly force the issue. ‘So, what do you want to discuss?’

‘Must I draw up an agenda?’

His choice of words confirmed her suspicions that the topic for discussion was business.

‘You’ve done all you can here,’ he pointed out.

Glancing towards the cottage, Kate saw a group of about a dozen people clustered around Megan, hanging on her every word. She needed time to think—to work out how to save the situation. ‘But there’s the clearing up to do,’ she argued.

‘Don’t you think Madame Duplessis can take care of that?’

Now she saw that a number of staff from the château had arrived and were setting everything straight again under the housekeeper’s direction.

‘Let’s go,’ Guy said, reaching for his jacket.

‘I’ll need some things—’

‘You’ve got a whole room full of clothes at the château,’ he said, drawing her arm through his. ‘Or had you forgotten?’

Guy drove his iron-grey Aston Martin straight round to the back of the château and took Kate down the same flight of steps she’d ventured down before. Pausing only to snap on the lights, he led the way across the concrete floor of the vast plant nursery. Opening the door through which he had disappeared on her first visit, he beckoned her in.

‘Welcome to Mother’s retreat,’ he said, bending to switch on a lamp that provided just a mellow glow in contrast to the stark working light they had just left. ‘You’re very honoured,’ he said, stepping deeper into the small room. ‘No one is allowed in here apart from me—and now you,’ he said, searching her face for a reaction.

Kate stood in silence, looking around, and then turned to shut the door behind her—shutting out the world, she realised, feeling the heavy pall of sadness close around her.

‘Perhaps now you can understand why I am so grateful to you,’ Guy said softly, leaning back against an old mahogany sideboard housing a collection of beautiful pot plants.

It had seen some wear, Kate thought, though the pictures in their silver frames vying for space amidst the plants had been dusted recently and their frames gleamed bright with attention. There was more furniture in the room—all of it old and shabby, almost as if it had been picked up in one of the characterful flea markets in Paris.

‘From their student days,’ Guy confirmed, reading her face. ‘They shared a small flat—’

‘Your mother and father?’

‘They were also young once,’ he said, his eyes reflecting the depth of his affection for them.

Moving closer, Kate could see the photographs. Some, old and grainy, showed the Countess as a beautiful young girl, her face glowing with vitality…and love. ‘Your father was so handsome,’ she remarked, seeing the resemblance at once between father and son. She stroked one finger down a lock of ebony hair tied with a white lace ribbon faded in part to yellow that hung over one corner of the frame.

‘My father’s,’ Guy confirmed. ‘Taken on honeymoon while he slept and tied with a ribbon Mother saved from her wedding bouquet.’

‘That’s the most romantic thing I ever heard,’ Kate said softly. ‘Your mother must have loved him very much.’

‘I loved him very much,’ Guy corrected gently, ‘but he was her life.’

‘We must help her,’ Kate said passionately as she stared into Guy’s eyes. She could see his loss written there as clearly as she had seen it in his mother’s eyes, and impulsively she reached out her hand to him. ‘I know you’re hurting too.’

‘We all are,’ he said, taking both her hands in his and bringing them to his lips.

‘You were right, you know,’ Kate admitted.

‘About?’

‘Me… Aunt Alice. I can see why you were so worried about the way I reacted when the cottage was on fire. This isn’t the way…’ She gazed about the tiny room filled with a lifetime of memories. ‘Thank you.’ She watched his eyes grow tender as he looked at her.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, leaving go of her hands to take hold of her arms.

‘For what?’ Kate murmured as a frisson of awareness coursed through her.

‘For showing my mother that life can go on,’ he said. ‘I know it can never be the same again for her, but her recovery is the only memorial my father would ask for. There was a time when I thought this room would become the extent of her world without him—until you came back…’

‘Oh, nonsense,’ Kate protested softly. ‘Megan’s the one you should be thanking.’ Guy’s face told her she was wrong.

‘You have no idea how my mother missed you.’

‘I missed her too, Guy. And I missed Villeneuve—’

‘And me?’ he said softly. When she didn’t answer, he cupped her face in his hands, making her pulse race as the air between them filled with a heady energy. Dipping his head, Guy brushed his lips very gently against her mouth.

‘The plants—’ Kate murmured, making no effort to move away.

‘Will wait,’ Guy said. ‘I won’t.’

‘No, I promised.’ But as she went to move away desire curled around the hands she was putting up against his chest and transformed the intended push into a caress.

‘Check them, if it makes you feel better.’

He let her go, but Kate could still feel the imprint of his hands. With all the senses in her possession she ached for him. She had waited so long; they both had. She stood for a moment without moving, staring at the plants waiting for her attention and then back again to Guy. She was just as needy as they were, but for Guy’s attention—personal and prolonged.

‘Go,’ he said again softly, dipping his head to urge her across. Their eyes met and locked, like a beam that pulled her towards him rather than away. Seeing her hesitate, he ran one hand lightly down her arm and then up again, keeping hold of her. ‘Let’s check them together,’ he suggested.

Moving slowly down the line, they checked each pot in turn. ‘They don’t need watering, do they?’ Guy said, drawing her round in front of him.

‘I don’t understand—’

‘Like I said,’ he whispered against her mouth, ‘Mother was young once too.’

* * *

It must be a dream, Kate thought as she walked into Guy’s private suite of rooms through tall, arched doors. She had never visited this part of the château before, and in contrast to the more public areas it seemed almost Spartan by comparison—yet typically Guy, she thought, gazing around. She saw at once that he’d gone for clean lines, strong shapes and a high degree of comfort. But as he closed the double doors behind them she suddenly felt shy, like a young girl on a first date.

Seeing her face, Guy took her by the hand and brought her with him into the room, switching on some concealed lighting on the way. The floor was square block parquet, the huge windows dressed with sheer drapes. The subtle use of lighting together with a subdued colour palette in shades of white and fawn with touches of yellow ochre gave a sense of order and relaxation. Matching sofas covered in cappuccino suede sat either side of a soft gold wool rug and two large dogs with glossy cinnamon-coloured coats curled around each other in a wicker basket so that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other finished.

‘Ric—rac?’ Kate queried softly. For as long as she could remember, Guy had kept two dogs—company for each other, he used to say, she remembered with a smile. And as their actions always seemed to mirror each other’s, so the single name that split so beautifully into Ric and Rac suited them to perfection—especially as in French their name expressed the boisterous retrievers’ penchant for living life by the skin of their teeth.

‘Descendants,’ he said ruefully as he led her on. ‘Time passes.’

Four large wood-framed mirrors drew the eye to a formal group of monochrome shots of impressive office blocks. Seeing her staring at them, Guy stopped and stood behind her with his hands loosely linked around her waist.

‘If ever I feel like easing off,’ he murmured, nuzzling against her neck, ‘I only have to look at those to remind me how hard I have to work to keep all my companies powering forward.’ As she sighed with understanding—or maybe something else—he nudged her hair aside to lavish kisses down her neck.

Kate felt as if she was being enveloped in a seductive cocoon. Guy might be setting a relaxed pace, but they both knew there was only one outcome and that made it the most erotic form of foreplay she could possibly imagine. She was easing into him, melting against him, and had to forcibly drag herself away before she could speak. ‘And what about distractions like this?’ she demanded softly, turning her face up for his kiss.

‘Necessary to life,’ he breathed against her mouth.

As she moved in his arms, his hands tracked up slowly from her waist, but before he could claim her breasts Kate broke away with an exclamation. ‘What beautiful flowers!’ Her curiosity was roused. The bright floral arrangement was the only suggestion of softening in what was essentially a male preserve.

Guy looked at the summer arrangement in the grate of the cream stone fireplace and then back at Kate, his eyes alive with amused speculation as he slanted a look at her.

‘Madame Duplessis informed me that my room needed flowers,’ he explained.

‘Oh.’ Relief flooded through her. For a moment she had pictured Guy’s mysterious secretary who, in her mind’s eye, grew more luscious and irresistible with each passing day. ‘Madame Duplessis was right. They are lovely,’ Kate managed evenly, ‘and they do add something.’

‘Oh?’

‘Well, your apartment—’ She stopped, at a loss for words. It was hardly her place to comment on his unexpectedly contemporary choice of furnishings.

‘Isn’t what you expected?’ Guy supplied. ‘But when you have lived all your life surrounded by the splendour of Château Villeneuve, you find that you want very little. Champagne?’ As he spoke he slipped off his jacket and tossed it on to one of the chairs. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw her eyes darken.

Collecting herself quickly, Kate tore her glance away from the broad sweep of his shoulders beneath the crisp white shirt and the tantalising glimpse of hard tanned chest shaded with dark hair just visible where he had undone a couple of buttons. ‘Were you expecting someone?’ she challenged, focusing instead on the ice bucket and glasses.

‘Only you,’ he said as he loosened his cuffs.

She steeled herself not to look. ‘How can I be sure of that?’

‘You can’t,’ he said, rolling back his sleeves.

Kate heard her breathing quicken and grow loud in the silence. There was no way she could ignore the power in his arms, or fail to interpret the look in his eyes. And when he held out his hands to her she went to him without hesitation. He felt so good, so hard and strong, and he tasted as delectable as the warm male scent filling her nostrils. And this time his kiss was not that of an older man respecting the untutored innocence of a much younger woman, but the response of a man meeting his lover on equal terms. He ravished her mouth with a searing hunger, kissing her all the way across the room, backing her towards the door. Then, using one hand to turn the handle, he put his shoulder against it and, swinging her into his arms, carried her across the subtly lit room.

His huge bed was cool and firm, with plump down pillows and an ivory silk throw that he snatched back and threw to the floor. Kate found herself on linen sheets, freshly laundered and scented with lavender. The strength of her passion might have surprised him but he mastered her easily, holding her firm underneath him while he whispered promises that conjured up such erotic images she only begged him for more and in words she barely recognised.

But Guy was too strong for her and would not be hurried. He chose instead to watch her responses with a lazy interest, capturing her wrists and holding them high above her head whilst tracing an unhurried path down her neck, her shoulder and then her arm with his other hand. Time was suspended in a realm where sensation ruled and Kate barely registered the fact that he had eased the zip down the back of her dress until she felt him teasing her nipple with his tongue through the taut lace of her bra.

With long, shuddering sighs, she meshed her fingers through his thick black hair, increasing the pressure, but he broke away, taking his shirt over his head in one fluid move. As he reached for the buckle on his black leather belt she watched him release it, thrilling with pleasure to see him as eager as she was to be rid of his clothes. Then, as he lowered the zip on his linen trousers and swung off the bed to step out of them, she feasted her eyes again on his iron-flat stomach banded with muscle. Relishing her female power, Kate allowed her gaze to rove slowly and appreciatively over his magnificently proportioned torso and then on to where his black silk underpants accentuated, rather than concealed, his raging desire. Sprawling back with one arm tucked comfortably behind her head, she bent one knee a little, deliberately and very provocatively, as she continued to stare at him.

Realising he was the floor show with an audience of one, Guy caught her gaze and returned it loaded with the promise of delicious retribution. Then, matching his length to hers, he rested his head on the heel of his hand and scorched a trail with his eyes over every deeply aroused inch of her. Only after what seemed like the longest time did he turn his attention back to her face. ‘Your lips are red and swollen from my kisses,’ he observed, tracing them with one firm thumb pad. ‘Your eyes are emerald-bright and feverish with desire… And your hair is gloriously disordered and streaming over your breasts…’

Each of his words was like a caress and each one of them stimulated her a little more. She gasped out loud when his hand claimed her breast. But when she reached for him he only laughed softly and held her hand away.

‘Not yet,’ he said, scoring tantalising circles around her achingly sensitive nipples with the tips of his nails. ‘Take your bra off for me first.’ And now it was his turn to settle back to watch her with his head resting comfortably on his arms.

‘Not yet,’ Kate said, deliberately provoking him. Straddling him so that she had the comfort of feeling his arousal against her, she thrust out her breasts. She knew how Guy loved to toy with her responses, play her effortlessly so that as each moment passed she thought the next would bring satisfaction, only to have him deny her again… Well, now it was her turn. As he moved forward to take matters into his own hands she leaned back. ‘Not yet,’ she repeated in a voice full of irony.

But she had underestimated him and his reflexes were lightning-fast. The gasp as he swung her underneath him turned to a moan as his hands closed over each distended nipple and his thumbs began to chafe them firmly, mercilessly through the taut fabric until the livid buds became unbearably sensitive. ‘You always did like playing games,’ he said. ‘Is this what you had in mind?’

‘Yes… Oh, yes—’ she managed before his plundering mouth cut her off again. And then her bra was gone and her lush breasts were fully exposed for his perusal. She had the satisfaction of hearing his sharp breath of approval before strong hands robbed her mind of the power of thought as they moved to measure and stroke and clasp and mould. Then, dipping his head to suckle, he teased her with his lips and with his teeth until she knew she would go mad with frustration.

As she sucked in a deep and shuddering breath he looked up, but the confident humour in his eyes warned her that he hadn’t finished with her yet. Teasing her breasts with his hands, he lit a trail of fire down to her waist with his kisses until, finally easing her thighs apart, he sank down between her legs.

He nuzzled the damp scrap of lace, tracing the swollen lips it confined with his tongue. But as Kate lifted her knees and cupped her hands behind them, opening herself more for his enjoyment, with a low growl of triumph he seized the thong and ripped it off. Kate responded immediately, impatient fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his black silk underwear. Guy allowed her to wrestle him for a while until, pushing her on to her back, he brought the playfulness to a close with stroking fingers and a mouth that knew too much about pleasure. But when almost immediately Kate found herself teetering on the edge of release she tried to push him away.

Lifting his head, he murmured wryly, ‘This is no time to be self-conscious.’

‘I know,’ Kate admitted huskily, turning her head away to mumble, ‘but I’m scared.’

Reaching a hand up, he cupped her chin to turn her back to face him. ‘Scared of what, baby…losing control?’ And when she didn’t answer he coaxed her legs apart again. ‘Don’t worry… I’ve got you. Let go.’

And when she did as he said it was with such a burst of sensation she cried out in astonishment and bucked against him for the longest time until he wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her more intimately and more tenderly than ever before. ‘And now it’s my turn,’ he murmured, guiding her hand down to where there was no hope at all of containing him within one of her fine-boned fists. But when the fears came back he knew just how to soothe them and how to tempt her on until, lodging one powerful thigh between her legs, he finally held her powerless beneath him.

‘I’m really frightened now,’ Kate admitted in a gasp, and more by his size than any doubt as to his consideration for her.

‘No, you’re not,’ Guy insisted huskily, warming her ear with his breath. ‘You’re inexperienced and apprehensive, but never frightened, Kate—not with me. I would never, never hurt you.’

With her gaze firmly locked in his she accepted the steady thrust, trusting him completely as he stretched her beyond anything she would have thought possible, filling her with an intensity of sensation she could never have anticipated. The sense of completeness made her cry out his name and she stabbed her fingers into his taut buttocks as he withdrew slowly, making him plunge deeply again. And as he felt her rise towards him in an unmistakable plea for more Guy built the rhythm, adding a little more force each time until they were moving urgently together.

He was supremely responsive, moving with firm, deep strokes to inflame the quiver within her until it became an all-consuming need, and when the pulsating energy consumed them both the violence of his spasms prolonged her own stunning release. For a while it seemed to Kate as if the aftershocks would never end. But Guy knew just how to soothe her back down again, tucking strands of damp hair behind her ears and bathing her face with kisses, then stroking her body until finally she quietened against him and snuggled contentedly into the nook between his neck and shoulder.

‘No sleep,’ he warned softly. ‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’ she said faintly in a sleep-slurred voice.

‘Because,’ he murmured, moving on to his side, ‘I’m not finished with you yet.’

‘Oh, really?’ Kate breathed as she stretched out languorously with her arms flung up to rest on the soft mound of pillows.

‘Yes, really,’ Guy insisted in a voice laced with dry humour as he moved one of her legs over his thighs, spreading her wide again.

As he settled in closer Kate felt him brush against her as he turned her on to her side. And this time when he thrust inside her there was no fear, only moans of sheer delight as he proved she still needed his attention. ‘Are you never satisfied?’ she gasped as he took up the familiar rhythm and intensified the sensation with the steady movement of his fingers.

‘I just want to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m away,’ he said as he used the heel of one hand to nudge her into the best position.

‘Away?’

But this was not the time for discussion, and Guy made sure that pleasure took her over until the thought that he might be leaving soon was submerged beneath tidal waves of sensation.

Kate woke to find Guy dressed ready to go out. The dark formal suit, together with the tailored shirt and silk tie instantly rang warning bells in her mind. ‘Where are you going?’ she said, suddenly wide awake. As he bent to plant a kiss on her mouth she sat up and they clashed with an awkwardness totally at odds with the harmony they had enjoyed only hours before.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly as he straightened up. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you. Something urgent’s cropped up—business,’ he explained reassuringly when he saw the look on her face. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be away long. Go back to sleep.’

His voice was soothing, and maybe he stayed until she went back to sleep, or maybe she simply never woke up properly in the first place, Kate thought drowsily when she woke up later that same morning. But Guy had said nothing about going away, she thought, tossing back the covers. A pang of uncertainty hit her square in the stomach. They hadn’t exactly had a proper conversation, she remembered as she sat up. Torrid images hit her all together, blotting out the tenderness and leaving doubt in its place. This just wasn’t like her, Kate realised, clutching her knees as she struggled to hang on to the fact that she was rational, sensible and cautious by nature and that Guy was the most honourable man she knew. No, she argued with herself as she buried her face. That was how she used to be, until Guy turned her whole world on its head—and he had only taken what was freely offered.

Why should he tell her where he was going? What hold did she have on him? Had last night meant nothing to him? She felt physically sick as she bit down hard on her lip and tried not to care. The trouble was she loved him; she had always loved him and always would love him. And what if he didn’t feel the same? She cast about in desperation for some strong independent woman theme to provide her with a survival strategy, but it didn’t work. She knew she would take whatever Guy had to give her and on whatever terms he chose.