Dark Blue: Study in Seduction, Book 1 (21 page)

“It was placed so carefully in the drawer, with the lavender. As if someone wanted us to find it.”

He hesitated. “Maybe. I don’t know. It might have been a joke, although it’s not in the best of taste, I admit.”

“A joke? By whom?”

“I’m not sure. I told you my family is
farfelu
, but if you’re bothered by it, I’ll get rid of it.”

Alex searched her face. His eyes glittered darkly as he silently handed her a stark choice. She knew her answer would lead her into a new sensual territory, darker and more disturbing than anything she’d experienced until now.

“Carla? Do you want me to keep the martinet? I need to know.”

The question was clear enough, and instinctively, she knew that it wasn’t about whether she wanted the whip thrown away or not. Alex was asking her if she wanted him to use it on her.

Once again, she struggled between giving in to her fears—or surrendering to her darkest desires.

Her struggle didn’t last long. Almost without her thinking about it, she gave a nod of assent that was tiny and momentary.

Attuned to her needs, Alex needed no more encouragement.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply and tenderly.

“
Bien
.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Carla glanced up from her Kindle at the blue water gently lapping the tiles. While Alex worked on a paper, she’d gone to the pool for the morning. Although she’d loved seeing Provence in Alex’s company, Carla was secretly relieved to have a chance to simply lounge at La Bastide for a day.

Gaby hadn’t gone to Paris after a day or two. In fact, she was still at La Bastide over a week later, having been invited to stay as long as she wanted to by Mme. Lemaitre and evidently having found her work in Provence more complicated than she’d thought.

However, Gaby might just as well not have been within a hundred miles of La Bastide for all they’d seen of her. Either she was out working or Alex had been showing Carla the stunning landscape around La Bastide. He’d taken her to the village of Castellane, and they’d climbed the rocky outcrop to the tiny chapel at the top. They’d driven the cornice around the Gorges du Verdon, ventured into the Alpine foothills and had picnics by milky-blue lakes. They’d even made it to Grasse, where Alex had bought Carla a perfume he’d chosen especially for her.

The lavender fields surrounding the town had reminded Carla of the martinet nestled undisturbed in its drawer, but still he hadn’t mentioned it again. In the evenings, he’d taken her to local bistros, and on the few occasions they’d had a family meal at La Bastide, Gaby had only been there once. Today, there were only Carla and Alex at the house. Mme. Lemaitre had gone shopping and would be away all day, and Gaby was on a location visit.

They were alone at last. Carla abandoned her Kindle and frowned at the reddening on her chest and thighs. She’d slathered the sunscreen on her fair skin, but it was probably time to cover up or go for a swim to cool down. It was almost noon, and the sun would only grow fiercer. As she slipped into the water, her brief wince at the initial shock was soon replaced with a sigh of pleasure as she swam among oleander blossoms that had drifted onto the water. The sun was hot on her head as the cicadas set up their loud midday chorus and the scent of lavender and wild thyme filled the air.

Yes, she had begun to understand how La Bastide could seduce someone. Without the family around, no matter how polite they were, the house was less oppressive. Or perhaps she had simply relaxed without the pressure of having to be on her best behaviour in front of his family. She swam a couple of dozen lengths until her arms and legs began to grow weary, then climbed up the steps and picked up a towel.

Qu’elle est belle.

How beautiful she was, so lovely that she stole his breath away. Alex ducked back into the shadows of the salon as Carla climbed the circular steps from the pool. Her hair, the colour of dark honey, was caught in a clip on top of her head, and she wore a pink bikini, smaller and more daring than he would ever have believed she owned. Her skin, glistening with water droplets, had begun to turn pale gold in the sun. It was if she’d blossomed since they’d left Oxford. It could, have course, simply have been that she was free of the tension and sleepless nights of her exams.

There was more. Under his tutelage, he’d hoped she’d flourished because she’d been able to explore the true expanse of her sensuality.

And he had barely started.

She walked to the stone trough and pump in the middle of the courtyard and ran her hands under the water, splashing it over her arms. Alex shivered as she dipped her feet in the water. A lethal cocktail of emotions assaulted him as he watched her pat her limbs with a towel. Lust, shame, pain, pleasure, guilt and grief… But what about love?

He wanted to love her, suspected she might have fallen in love with him, yet also feared he could never give her what she truly needed and deserved—the whole Alex, free of the demons of the past, ready to commit to marriage and a family. Her own husband had betrayed her and been unable to give her children, and she’d told him how much that had hurt. While she acted as if she was happy with their sexual relationship, said she didn’t mind it being secret—in time, she must want more.

He already wanted more, but he couldn’t see a way forward for them. Even if they went public, that was the easy part. It was beyond that that seemed dark and misty to him. Marriage, children… They weren’t teenagers; they were both mature people who had already endured enough of life’s slings and arrows without inviting more. The stakes of a relationship were high and had ramped up massively the longer and more intimately he had known her. Sooner or later—and sooner, he suspected—the crunch would come, and he would have to face the truth.

But for now, he had only one thing on his mind.

Carla walked back to the lounger and picked up her towel, patting her skin dry with it. Alex’s erection hardened as she dabbed her full breasts and rubbed her thighs and that soft, curvy bottom which might have been created just for his chastising hand. His own skin tingled. His memories of La Bastide were so dark. Carla had brought light and sun to them. He could lead Carla into a new level of sensuality and pleasure, if she would surrender to him. He stopped, struck by a new thought that sucked his breath away. Perhaps he could exorcise his own demons and move into a new place himself?

“Have you enjoyed your swim?”

Carla had just laid the towel on the lounger when Alex crossed the courtyard towards her.

“Yes, thank you. How’s the paper going?”

He shrugged. “Okay, if you’re into the sexual politics of the Cavalier poets.”

“I am. I’d like to do my second-year dissertation on them.”

His eyes glittered in the sunlight. “Then I’ll give you some extra tutorials when we’re back in Oxford.”

She sensed a change in atmosphere, subtle yet enough to bring goose bumps out on her flesh. “Not now?”

“I’ve other lessons in mind for you now.”

The shift was obvious, and the air shimmered between them like the heat haze above the mountains. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of lesson yet.”

Alex held out his hand. “Oh, you are, Carla. More than ready.”

Her limbs were heavy as she let him lead her across the courtyard and through the cool interior of the house to the guest wing. Inside, the house was silent.

“Is everyone definitely out?” she asked, sensing they needed total privacy for what he might have planned. Even the anticipation of it made her shiver inwardly.

“There’s no one within a mile of La Bastide. No cleaners due, no
Maman
, no Olivier and no Gaby.”

He opened the door of the guest suite and gestured for Carla to go in ahead of him. She passed through, and he turned the key behind her.

“Do we really need to lock it if there’s no one around?”

He smiled. “Better to be safe than sorry.” He crossed to the French doors and drew the muslin drapes across, leaving the shutters open so that muted sunlight still lit the room.

Then he turned to her, and his eyes darkened, no longer the urbane Alex but a sensual predator.

“Go into the bathroom, take off your bikini and then come out here to me,” he ordered.

Her stomach did a somersault. So this was it. She’d known what was coming, and there was no going back. This would be uncharted territory for her, and she hoped it might lead to a new intimacy with Alex. She wanted to submit completely to him and embrace the pain and pleasure involved with equal gratitude.

“Yes, Alex,” she said quietly.

In the bathroom, she unwound the towel and placed it on the rail. Her wet fingers fumbled with the damp knot of her bikini, and her arm shook as she pulled it over her head. Her breasts were already so heavy with arousal, they almost hurt, and when she slipped her bikini pants off, they were wet, not simply from the water but from her need for him.

The tiles were cool under her bare feet as she caught sight of her flushed face in the mirror and her nipples, pebbled and berry red. There were muted sounds from the bedroom, but one she could not mistake: the drawer being opened and the gentle thud of it being closed.

She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Carla. I’m waiting.”

At his command, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom.

Alex stood by the bed, barefoot, the martinet in his hand. At all four corners of the frame, twisted silken cords snaked across the white cover like serpents on fresh white snow to a space in the centre.

A space prepared especially for her.

He laid the martinet on the cover and started to unbutton his shirt front, and her hand flew to her mouth. Was her lesson with the martinet going to be so rigorous that he needed to strip off to deliver it? Carla stopped a few feet away. She didn’t think she could surrender that much to Alex, give that much to him.

“Alex. I don’t think I can do this.”

He paused, his shirt unbuttoned above the waist, revealing the smattering of dark hair across his chest. “I think what you’re trying to say is that you’re not sure you can abandon this much control. You think I’ll take you beyond your limits.”

Her throat was dry. “You already have done, but this might be too far.”

He laid the martinet on the bed. “Come here, please.”

The “please” encouraged her, so she walked forward to face him.

He touched her cheek. “If it reassures you, I’m always judging what your limits are, testing them out, edging you a tiny bit beyond, but I do understand if you don’t trust me, more than you imagine. You can admit to that.”

“I…I’m not sure, Alex.” She wasn’t afraid that the cruel kiss of the martinet would be too much to bear. She didn’t trust him to let her inside his own fears and secrets. And she knew he had them and had buried them deep in the shadows of La Bastide, far away from the light of the sun.

He ran his finger over her nipples. “You will trust me because I trust you, and I’m going to prove that. You can feel what it’s like to be in control, what it’s like to wield the martinet yourself, and then you can tell me if you trust me again. If you really don’t want to experience it, then I’ll never push you again. All I ask is that you allow yourself the chance to find out.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Alex unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and stripped it off. Though she’d seen him naked many times now, the sight of his tanned chest and taut abs still made her shiver with lust. And that desire was stoked higher by the thrilling fear of what he had in mind. Him trust
her
? Her wield the power?

It was an idea as intoxicating as any wine.

His boxers were stripped off with his jeans, and he stood before her, powerfully nude, his erection jutting in front of him.

“Pick up the martinet,” he said.

Pick it up? Did he mean…? She guessed what he expected, but shock paralysed her. “No. I can’t.”

“You can and you will. You need to feel what it’s like to be in control and know the responsibility. Then you’ll know that I won’t go any further than you need.”

But probably further than I want.
Need
and
want
are two very different things.

She took the whip from the cover as Alex moved to the foot of the bed. He stroked her cheek. “
Tres bien
, Carla. You can do this.”

Could she? Carla was so far from feeling in control, it was almost a joke. The handle of the whip was cool and smooth against her hot palm. Its lashes hung limp and innocent. It felt like a child’s toy in her hand, all the threat gone.

He gripped the upright of the bedframe, one hand above the other, leaning forward. His back was smooth, his muscular thighs spattered with dark hair, his firm backside paler against his tanned back and limbs. She didn’t want to mark or blemish such austere beauty.

“Do I need to tie you up?”

He laughed softly. “I hope not.”

“How do you know I won’t go too far?”

“I don’t. I’m going to trust your judgment. That’s the point. Try it.”

She flicked the whip experimentally through the air, but there was no sound. “Even though I’m inexperienced.”