Her Foreign Affair (37 page)

She loved him.

The exotic tea tasted exquisite on her tongue, and he drank from her mouth, taking in her hunger, desire, need for him.

Yes! Thank you, God! His heart sang, joining the mighty chorus reverberating in his head. Randi, in his arms, her love surrounding him, filling him… The years rolled back, and all that had been dusty, gray, and cold in his world burst into exotic color, light, and soul enriching heat. Jean, his Jeannie, was back, this time to stay, because now she’d confessed; nothing would keep them apart ever again. She’d even promised. He had her, and he wasn’t letting go. Not for anything.

Not even the damn carriage clock, which chimed the first quarter hour from the mantel, could pry them more than a few inches apart.

Regretfully, Court eased the kiss into tender nibbles. “As much as I want to make love to your beautiful body, we have guests arriving in approximately one hour. One more cup of tea, and then it’s off to the showers for you. I’ll even help.”

“You’ll help me how?” The kisses she placed near his mouth and along his jaw were sweet temptations he steeled himself to resist. It took a strong man to hold out against such a sweet assault.

He ignored the question while refilling the cup. “What do you think of this tea?”

“You want to talk about tea now?” The soft seduction of her breath in his ear, lips on his earlobe, just about destroyed his plans.

“It’s that or we skip Christmas and go straight to making love for three days.” He offered the cup to her.

“You’d forget about Christmas for me?” she whispered, as she took the cup, irreverently drained it in one gulp, and set it on the tray.

He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer yet, snuggling her right up against his straining cock. “Yes, I would. But don’t spoil my fun. I have plans, darling.”

“Well then, I’m all yours.”

He bent his neck and placed a kiss on the swell of her breast. “I’m absolutely mad for you, Jeannie-mine. But”—he surged to his feet with her legs tightening around his waist, arms about his neck, her lovely bum in his hands—“we don’t have time for slacking off. If it weren’t Christmas with guests, we’d hole up here and eat off each other.” Ah there was the sweet flush he loved.

Bless her little soul, she tightened her grip around his neck, and pulled his head down to hers. “Kiss me, Court. Kiss me thoroughly, then make love to me in the shower.”

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

* * * *

Randi clung to him, arms wrapped around Court’s neck. His hands cupped her bottom and lifted her higher. “Kiss me,” she heard herself begging. Fortunately, he complied, and by the time she somewhat regained her senses, he had her pinned against a tile wall with steam billowing around them.

“Didn’t we forget something?”

Court grinned, looking entirely pleased and a touch smug, the smile guaranteed to capture her completely. “I think we might want to lose the clothes.”

She laughed. Still in her Christmas underwear, she was silly enough as it was, but he was fully dressed, still wearing his shoes. Together they pulled off the wet clothes and left them in a heap in the corner of the huge shower.

“How old is this house?” she asked.

“At least three centuries,” he answered, reaching for a bottle on a built-in shelf.

“I didn’t know they made bathrooms like this back then.”

“They didn’t. This was once a dressing room. The dressing room was once a bedroom. This is why I can never remember how many bedrooms we currently have.” Shampoo flowed into his hand. “Get your hair wet. You get the full treatment tonight. Tomorrow you get to take care of me.” He nibbled on her earlobe, then worked the foaming liquid into her hair, his fingers strong yet gentle as they massaged her scalp. A refreshing lemony fragrance mixed with the rising steam.

“Keep moaning like that, and I won’t finish washing you before pouncing.”

“Promises.” She wrapped her hands around his waist, loving the feel of his skin, and pulled him closer. Soap slipped down between them, creating slick friction where they touched from chest to belly to thigh. She particularly loved the feeling of his erection between them and moved against it.

Court groaned. “The lady likes to play with fire.” He maneuvered her beneath the spray again, his fingers working with the water to rinse the lather from her hair.

“I like your torch, does that count?” Holding onto his waist, she leaned back, opening herself up to him, her head tipped back into the water. The flow ran down her body, teasing every bit as much as Court touching her.

“My torch likes you, so I suppose it does.”

“And every good torch needs a holder.” She moved against him again and felt him twitch in response.

When he spoke, the words came out gruffly. “A sheath for the knight’s sword?”

“A place for everything and everything in its place.”

Court pulled her against him, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom, holding her tight. “How many more bad clichés can we come up with?”

“Before you decide to stick that thing in me? I don’t know. What are you waiting—”

The thought was left unfinished as he lifted her, impaled her on his body, and pinned her against the wall again, this time with the obvious intent of loving her senseless.

How he managed to find the spark of energy inside her, she didn’t think she’d ever know. He filled her, challenged her, drove her higher. At last, the empty cold spot deep inside crumbled. Being with Court felt better than it ever had. Clinging to him, she let him take her where he would, which was heaven for just the two of them. His mouth ravaged hers, his hands gripped her bottom, his fingers rubbed where they could reach. When one finger rubbed in a spot that had rarely been touched, she wiggled and moaned.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No, please, no…”

“You sure?” he asked roughly.

“Yes!”

“Easy, love, easy. Give it a min.”

“Just like that, Court, yes!”

Three weeks of frustration gathered inside her and built up into one tight little bundle. The key to releasing it lay solely with Court, and he knew it. She felt his muscles bunching and straining as he held and touched her, creating fire that burned soul deep.

“That’s my girl. Ah, Jeannie, I’ve missed you.”

His finger twisted and touched the right nerves. Like a flame burning along a line of gun powder, a message ran down the fuse of her nervous system to the right bundle of tension, which he also managed to touch as she ground herself against him until she couldn’t breathe. The tile warmed behind her back, and his chest braced her front, flattening her breasts between them. His body rubbed hers, and she moved against him, muscles clenching, embracing him deep within. Tempted to close her eyes, she couldn’t because she didn’t want to miss the expression on Court’s face as the world around her shattered in an explosion of light, glitter, and mist. She heard voices cry out and echo back from the hard surfaces of the room.

“Stay with me, love,” Court panted. A moment later, he drove deeper and buried his face against her neck. His hands tightened, driving her higher until a bright light exploded once more behind her eyes.

Slowly, so slowly, she drifted back from her release, and Court slipped his finger from her, sending another spasm of pleasure along her sensitized system.

“Easy, love.” He kissed her neck and let her legs lower, one at a time until she stood once more, although his body still pinned her against the wall.

“So…” Unable to think of a fitting word, she let the thought drift away.

“So, right, love.” Court rested his lips against her temple. “It’s always like that with you.”

“Yes.” Only Court had ever made her burn, and yet, instead of using her up, she felt reborn. “Only you.”

They took more time to wash with long caresses, and lingering touches, urgency calmed for the moment. At last Court twisted the taps and turned off the water.

“Much as I hate to move onward…” He reached for a thick towel and wrapped it around her.

After drying her hair and applying a slightly heavier than usual layer of makeup, Randi let him wrap her in his robe and lead her from the bathroom. In his dressing room, they found a simple black silk sheath and a wool suit in olive, which even Court had to admit didn’t flatter her so well. Although it was a hair loose because she hadn’t been eating lately, they decided on the black silk. His grumbles about the endless black stopped when she put on the emerald earrings he’d given her in New York.

“Heaven help me, Randi, you grow more beautiful with each passing moment. But you’re missing something.”

Speechless, she could only gape as he settled a necklace of diamonds and emeralds around her neck. The jewels sparkled where they lay against the black silk.

“I meant to give you this in New York…” His shrug made it unnecessary to spell out the rest.

“Court, I’m sorry—”

“No, love, I’m sorry. I treated you dreadfully. Forgive me?”

Finished fastening the clasp, he rested his hands on her shoulders as they both looked into the mirror.

“I shouldn’t have left like I did.”

“Water under the bridge. What a picture we make, you think?”

Nodding, she took the time to really look at the two of them together in the full length mirror, Court attired in a fine suit of black, she matching in the silk dress, which fell to an inch below her knees. Black flats suited her travel-weary feet just fine, though the lack of heels made her look very short against his height. Blond and red hair gleamed in the dimmed lights of the dressing room.

“This is how you’ll look in candlelight, love. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“You too.” She meant it, but said it with a teasing lilt. “Are you sure we have to go downstairs?”

“Aye. We’ve delayed as long as possible. Far longer than we should have. Lord of the manor must make an appearance.”

“Are you truly a Lord?”

Court laughed. “No, just owner of the biggest house in the neighborhood.” A gentle finger traced the contour of her cheek as the carriage clock chimed the hour with eight strikes of the hammer. “And speaking of, we’re later than I thought. The good people will be anxious for their dinner.”

“How many people are here for dinner?”

Court grinned at the whispered question. At the bottom of the stairs, the swell of voices sharing holiday greetings was boisterous to say the least.

“Seventy, eighty, possibly ninety. I don’t remember. Martin will know.” It was really fifty as that was all the dining hall would accommodate in comfort, but the look on her face was priceless.

“So many?”

“A few are extended family sprung from nursing homes for the evening. We also have local merchants, barristers, doctors and the like. Even the local vicar who will slip away for midnight mass. In fact, most of the people will clear out for church, or will be picked up by the senior bus, saving us from having to kick them out.”

With her arm tucked securely around his, Court had never felt more proud to escort a woman anywhere. At their appearance just inside the drawing room door, a hush began to settle as people noticed and turned their direction.

“Merry Christmas!” he called out and same came back in reply only from many more voices. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. Shall we go in to dinner now?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned with Randi still on his arm and led the way to the dining room.

With the crowd following them, Randi only had a moment to gape at what Court had to privately admit was something of a rather grand dining room. Especially when compared with the modest arrangement in her home. Her face paled a bit, and her hand tightened on his arm. A previous ancestor had decorated the room in his own interpretation of something the Tudor court might have recognized, from leaded windows to carved wood paneling, but without the dais and trestle tables. Bea had wanted to redo it, but Court had put his foot down, personally liking the rich design, especially for grand events such as this night.

At the door he and Randi formed a tiny receiving line. With his in-laws near the front of the line, right behind Larry who’d pushed his way in front, it seemed the best chance to quietly introduce her to the guests.

“Drew, please help people find their seats. Birdie goes at my left,” he said quietly as his mother passed with Randi’s father firmly in tow. “Larry.”

“Randi, my love, I’m so pleased to see you again. Court’s been teasing me unmercifully. You simply must introduce me to your daughter.” His friend bent over Randi’s hand, ignoring Court completely. Par for the course.

“You’ll meet her in a few moments, Larry,” Court said. “Get on with you now. There are a few other daughters who would appreciate help being seated.”

“Oh sure, leave me to assist the sturdy farmer’s girls and your elderly aunts.” With a wink, he ambled off happily enough, leaving Court and Randi to greet the people looking her over with polite curiosity. The whole—house, room, crowd—had stunned Randi, but she didn’t let it show now. Something that increased his pride.

“Randi, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Catchpole, my in-laws. Harry, Anne, this is Ms. Randi Ferguson of the United States.”

Polite words of greeting were murmured, and the people eager to enter swept the stiff couple into the dining room. Hopefully, they’d be seated at the far end of the table near his mother. At least they didn’t seem to recognize her name. Not yet. Although they’d surely heard of his daughter by now, which probably accounted for the disapproving glares. They weren’t stupid by any means, and were probably putting the pieces together quite well on their own.

Finally, Court escorted Randi to her seat on his right. As he assisted her, the other ladies were helped into their chairs, and serving staff moved forward to begin pouring wine. Court stood for a moment before taking his seat.

It was times like these he enjoyed his life. Randi on his right with Drew to her right, Birdie on his left, with Larry on her left, his sister and her family filling seats on either side. Down at his mother’s end of the table—far, far away—his in-laws, Randi’s father, the vicar, and various aunts and uncles. Friends he’d grown up with and local dignitaries filled the ranks in between.