All I Want Is You (23 page)

I must have cried out, I think, because he stopped abruptly. ‘Sophie. Am I hurting you?’

‘No. No, you’re not…’
Far from it. Oh, far from it. So deep – so incredibly deep…
‘Please don’t stop,’ I whispered.

He kept his hips still for another moment, but I think I must have groaned aloud, shifting myself against him, desperate for more, because he began to pleasure me again, slowly at first and carefully; but as I begged with my body his strokes lengthened and intensified as I caught his rhythm and matched it.
Surely I couldn’t… not again…

‘Let yourself go, Sophie,’ he whispered. ‘Come again, for me.’

Then I realised he was kneeling upright behind me, gripping my hips firmly. The intensity of his penetration thrilled me. He was thrusting harder now, and I revelled in the feel of him, in his possession of me, the pleasure he took in me, as I in him. My hips moved too, more and more frantically; the steady spiral of pleasure gripped my body as he drove deep, deeper than I could have believed, inside me – then held me as I exploded with pleasure.

And I realised he was close to his own extremity. Calling out my name savagely, he pumped twice, hard, then pulled out, shuddering, to spill his seed. His breathing rasped in his throat. Afterwards he untied my wrists, and though I was still blindfolded, he lay and drew me close, cradling me against his beautifully muscular body. I was motionless, I was sated. Then he pressed a swift kiss to my forehead before easing himself away, and I heard him swiftly going about the business of getting dressed.

When he came back to me, to sit beside me and untie the blindfold with care, I lay very still, curled up facing away from him, naked and vulnerable. I was overwhelmed by this man. There would never be anybody else for me. ‘Sophie,’ he said. ‘Sophie – you’re
crying?
’

‘No.’ I lifted my face to him steadily. ‘Of course I’m not!’

Quickly he gathered me to him, rocking me in his lovely strong arms. ‘Oh, Sophie. What is it?’

‘You know what,’ I whispered, my voice breaking slightly, though I fought, I fought so hard for control. I gave no explanation in words – I simply picked up the blindfold and let it fall.

He touched my cheek where just one tear had trickled. ‘Oh, God. You don’t still think it’s because I don’t feel you worthy to look at me?’

I gazed up at him, my Mr Maldon; so beautiful, so bestowing of delicious pleasure, but he was breaking my heart all over again. I said, ‘What else am I supposed to think?’

He held me. He cradled me, still naked, on his lap; he kissed me and I flung my arms round his shoulders, but my tears were damp on his white shirt.

‘No,’ he was breathing, ‘no, it’s not like that.’

I pulled myself away a little. ‘But it
is
like that,’ I answered bitterly. ‘Don’t worry, I learned my lesson at Belfield Hall. All the nobility are the same. None of them will acknowledge that we’re in the same room as them, that we even exist…’

He held me tight, kissing my cheek over and over. ‘You mustn’t think it’s because of that, Sophie,’ he said urgently. ‘But I
must
be obeyed in this. I’m damaged, I told you that. Badly damaged – but I want you to stay with me. Does it matter to you so very much not to see me, not to touch me when I’m making love to you?’

I was silent, thinking,
At least he’s letting me touch him now.
Indeed, my arms were still round his shoulders, and my fingertips could feel his warm skin through his shirt, could sense his muscles and sinews flexing under my touch. I gazed up at him and said at last, very steadily, ‘I think it would be the most magical moment in my life to see your face, and your expression when you move inside me, Ash. To see if it… if it means as much to you as it does to me.’

‘Oh, Sophie.’ His eyes were sad, so sad. He drew his hand across his face. ‘Oh, Sophie. You don’t know what you mean to me.’

Then tell me
, I wanted to cry out.
Tell me your secrets.

But he was silent, merely holding out the silk dressing gown again.

When I’d put it on, he drew me to the bed again beside him, in his arms, and my heart ached desperately for him. My poor Mr Maldon, with his dreadfully scarred hands – oh, what had happened to him since first I met him?

He pressed his forehead against mine. ‘You’re my good angel, Sophie. Do you know that?’

I lifted my eyes to his in surprise. ‘Your…?’

He smiled and stroked my cheek. ‘My good angel,’ he repeated. ‘You believe in me whatever I do, don’t you?’

His eyes were still bleak despite his smile, and I flung my arms around his neck once more. ‘Of course,’ I breathed. ‘Of course I believe in you. You must stop hating yourself. I still think you’re good and brave and true—’

‘Do you?’ he broke in. His eyes were sardonic now.

‘Yes! Yes, I do! You took on the dukedom because you cared about ordinary working people, the miners and all the men who work on your estate—’

He broke in. ‘I took the dukedom for revenge, Sophie. Nothing more, nothing less.’

My heart was plummeting suddenly but I thought I understood. ‘Of course. You hated the Duke and Duchess – and Lord Charlwood – for the way they treated you during the summer you had to stay there.’

I remembered too Beatrice telling me, before I left Belfield Hall, how around the time I’d first met him, Ash and the Duke had had some fierce argument over money, and had never spoken since. ‘Ash,’ I went on, ‘they never acknowledged your existence, they were cruel to you. No one can blame you for how you felt, no one.’

He kissed my fingers one by one, but there was no tenderness in his eyes. He said, ‘It’s bigger than that, Sophie. I learned to cope with their rejection quickly enough because they were nothing to me. No, I took the dukedom because I wanted revenge, on all the upper-class aristocrats who believe their birth makes them superior to everyone else on earth.’

I was silent, because now his bitterness was frightening me. This proud man was scarred to his very soul.
Oh, my poor, sad Mr Maldon.
I shivered inside for him, and for myself.

‘Will you still stay with me, Sophie?’ he asked me quietly at last.

As if there was ever any doubt now about that. A week? A month? It didn’t matter – nothing mattered except being with him. ‘Yes.’ My voice was a soft sigh as I curled myself into him and yawned sleepily. ‘But oh, Ash, what time is it?’

He touched the tip of my nose. ‘Time for you to get some sleep. I must just attend to some correspondence before morning.’

I snuggled against him again, remembering the orderly heaps of papers on his desk. ‘Don’t you ever sleep?’

‘I’ve got estates to manage, remember?’ he smiled, tucking my loose hair behind my ears. ‘Lots of farmland. Factories and mines as well.’

‘So you
do
care! You do!’

‘I like to make money,’ he said. ‘And that’s enough talking for tonight, sleepyhead.’

I was deliciously tired. He found me one of his crisp white shirts to sleep in – it was far too big for me, and I remember we laughed about it together, then he tucked me into his bed and said he’d join me very soon.

I fell asleep almost straight away, merely turning and blinking sleepily when he eased himself into the bed and held me in his arms. But I woke suddenly just before dawn, feeling frightened, imagining –
had
I imagined it? – that he’d cried out sharply in his dreams. My spirits were low as I gazed at his exquisite profile. How long could this last? Not long, I feared. Surely he had too many dark secrets to ever give himself fully to anyone, let alone me.

But oh, he was beautiful; and I’d agreed to stay, God help me, I’d agreed to stay.

I awoke the next morning, suddenly aware that the place in the bed where he’d lain next to me was cold and empty. Then I realised that the sound of the bedroom door opening had disturbed me – Mrs Lambert was coming in, with a tea-tray. Remembering I was wearing one of Ash’s shirts, I pulled the sheet over myself, but she looked as calm as ever, as if she was used to finding some semi-clad woman in her master’s bed. No doubt she was, I thought, suddenly bleak.

‘His Grace has had to go out on business,’ she told me as she set the tray down on the bedside table. ‘But he said you weren’t to rush. Breakfast will be served downstairs when you’re ready.’ She smiled her kind smile. ‘Your friend Cora is in the breakfast room now, and she’s eating well. Shall I run you a bath, Miss Davis? Or there’s the shower.’

Cora. Oh, God, I’d almost forgotten about Cora. ‘Thank you, I’ll take a shower.’

She started to turn, then hesitated. ‘I realise that you arrived without your luggage, so I’ve put some clothes in the dressing room for you.’ She pointed to a door I’d noticed earlier – it opened into a room that I’d seen
could be accessed from the sitting room also. ‘I do hope,’ she went on, ‘that they’re suitable.’

Clothes too.
Another chill settled round my heart. His house was so well equipped that even a new and unexpected mistress was almost instantly provided for. When she’d gone I lay there a moment or two, wondering. Then I jumped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.

Last night I’d only seen Ash’s rooms by lamplight, but now I realised that the bathroom here was on a scale to match his other private rooms, with a huge marble bath adorned with gilt taps. And the shower! Swiftly I pulled off Ash’s shirt and experimented with the handles, until streams of lovely hot water flooded down over me from the ceiling above – bliss. There was lavender soap there, and shampoo; I washed myself all over, pausing as I smoothed my hands over my legs and discovered how deliciously tender I was between my thighs.
Last night. Oh, last night my man was wonderful.

I dried myself thoroughly on one of the big fluffy towels. My hair was still damp, but I combed it out, knowing it was short enough to dry quickly in this beautiful, warm house. Swiftly I looked through the clothes in the dressing room that Mrs Lambert had mentioned; some were still in tissue paper, like the frocks Beatrice used to give me to wear.
Oh, my.
These were of equally exquisite quality. I eased on one of the simplest – an apricot-patterned chiffon day gown with a swirling skirt – and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked different: sleek and assured, and fresh from the arms of a man who – last night at least – had loved me as I’d loved him.

I hurried downstairs to find Cora, who was at the
breakfast table hungrily tucking into scrambled eggs and toast.

‘Well,’ she said. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she looked me up and down. ‘What a pretty dress. And you look as though you slept rather well. This man. This amazing, rich man who owns this dream of a place – I gather you know him?’

‘Yes.’ My voice was scarcely a whisper.

Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, Sophie. Oh no. It’s
him
, isn’t it? The one you told me about, who wouldn’t let you see him or touch him – who did all kinds of… oh, my God
.
Is he still – you know, the same?’

I nodded, my throat suddenly tight as I sat down beside her; she leaned closer and murmured, because a housemaid was hovering, ‘And is it still bloody marvellous with him? The sex, I mean. Does he still make you come and come until you don’t know if you’re on your head or your heels?’

‘Something like that. Oh, Cora…’ My voice broke in a little sob; her arms flew round me and she hugged me, rocking me. ‘Oh, sweetie. And he’s a duke, I hear, an actual, blue-blooded duke… Sophie, what are you going to do?’

I pulled myself away a little and gazed at her. ‘I’ll cope,’ I said. I poured myself coffee.

‘Are you sure you can?’

‘No.’ I tried to smile. ‘No, I’m not sure at all. But what about you, Cora?’

‘What about me? I’m a bloody hopeless case, I am.’ With a bleak laugh she started to spread more toast with marmalade.

‘We’ll sort something, Cora!’ I urged. ‘You see, I’ve spoken to Ash about you…’

‘Ash, eh?’ She carried on eating.

I pressed on, ‘Yes. We were thinking – you might be able to get your old job back at Cally’s. You were such a lovely dancer, Cora! And Ash thinks he can find you somewhere better to live—’

‘Not with you?’ she whispered. ‘Like before?’

I felt cold. ‘I’m staying here. Just for a while. You can stay too, I’m sure Ash won’t mind; for as long as you like, until you find something—’

‘I can’t stay,’ she cut in. She poured herself more coffee and drank it almost defiantly. ‘I’d ruin everything for you. No.’

‘You
will
stay,’ I insisted. ‘Ash has said you’ll be fine here, for oh, at least a week or two, you see how big this place is! And Cora, we can easily walk to the shops on Oxford Street from here – why don’t we do that, this morning?’

She stood up, a half-smile on her face. ‘Oxford Street, why not? Eat your breakfast, Sophie, you’ll need to keep up your strength for that gorgeous man of yours. I’ll go to my room and put some lipstick on, then I’ll meet you in the hall in half an hour, shall I?’

I rose to hug her. ‘Everything will be all right, Cora, you’ll see.’

She clasped me very close. ‘Attagirl. Don’t let him break you, Sophie.’

I was ready and waiting in that vast hallway in half an hour, but Cora wasn’t. With a sudden feeling of panic I hurried up to her room – Mrs Lambert had explained to me where it was.

Her perfume still hung on the air, but there was no Cora. There was just a note, lying on the dressing table.

Love you, sweetie. But I’m better out of your life.

Ash told me there was nothing more I could have done for her, and in my sadness for her I accepted it. Looking back now, knowing what I know now, I should have tramped the streets to find my poor, damaged friend. But you see I was with my Mr Maldon, and selfishly nothing except him mattered to me.

The next few days – and nights – were like a dream to me, one of the kind where you snuggle deliciously into your pillow never wanting to wake up, and if Ash’s dreams were darker, as they had been on the night I first slept with him, I wasn’t aware of them. I was so happy, even though Ash was out most days at meetings with his lawyers and other businessmen. ‘You could go shopping,’ he told me one morning in his bedroom as he was preparing to go out. ‘I’ll tell James to take you wherever you want, in the car.’