His Convenient Marriage (21 page)

'It didn't matter.' She looked down at her hands, twisting the aquamarine ring on her finger, struggling to keep her voice level and hide the agony of emotion inside her. 'Your instinct for trouble was quite right, it seems.'

He frowned. 'But I thought it would concern the Court, not Jenny.'

'It did.' She swallowed. 'I discovered tonight that Alastair and Linnet have been having an affair for years.'

'Ah,' he said, softly. 'So that's come out at last.'

She stared at him. 'You—knew`

He nodded. 'Remember the night I took you to dinner at The White Hart?'

'Yes.' She didn't just remember. Every detail was etched in her mind for ever.

'And the couple wrapped round each other in that parked car? When I met Lady Markham, I realised at once that she was the woman involved, and that she was desperate to know if I'd seen enough to identify her—and the boyfriend. When I recognised him, I became—interested.' He gave her a level look. 'So what happened? Did Alastair make a full confession in the moonlight before he proposed to you?'

She looked down at her hands. 'There was—no pro¬posal.'

'You amaze me,' Miles said sardonically. 'I'd assumed you'd be the path back to his father's favour. So—how did you find out?'

She bit her lip.` I—overheard something I shouldn't have done.'

'Poor Chessie,' he said. 'It's been a night of unwelcome revelations, hasn't it? Does it hurt very much?'

'Hurt?' She looked up, suddenly incredulous. 'Heavens, no. I got over Alastair a long time ago.'

Although I didn't know it, she thought, until he kissed me that night, and I wished it were you...

'It's just that I always thought they hated each other.' She shook her head. 'I feel such a fool'

'They're the foolish ones.' He shrugged. 'They may get to spend the rest of their lives together.'

She said in a low voice, `I don't think so.'

His lip curled. 'You mean he's decided to dump her? Could he be having conscience problems at last?'

'Yes,' she said quietly. 'Because his father found out, and that's what triggered his stroke.'

'Proving that honesty is not always the best policy.' He was silent for a moment. 'What about you, Francesca? Do you believe there's a place for secrets—or do you prefer everything laid on the line—publish and be damned?'

'That might depend on the secret.' Oh, God, she thought, he's going to tell me about Sandie Wells—that their love affair is on again—and I can't bear it. I can't...

He said, 'There's something I need to tell you, Chessie.'

She flung up a defensive hand, trying to laugh. 'Oh, no— not another unwelcome revelation, please.'

'As you wish.' His tone was level. 'Then, let's talk about something else. You're a wonderful dancer—did you know that? All inhibitions flown when the music starts.'

She flushed. 'You didn't watch me for very long.'

'No,' he said. `I found it more disturbing than I'd bar¬gained for. Dancing is one of the things I can't do—like playing football with the children I hope to have one day, or carrying my wife upstairs to bed. I jog along most of the time, then, just occasionally, reality bites hard.'

Her mind winced away from the images he'd created. She said falteringly, 'You have your books—a career a lot of people would envy...' The woman you've always wanted.

'And that should satisfy me?' he asked ironically. He shook his head. 'It doesn't work like that, Francesca. But you really don't want to hear my plans, do you?'

'Well—it is rather late.' She got clumsily to her feet. 'And we've both had a difficult evening. You look tired.'

'Do I?' He watched her from half-closed eyes, a faint smile playing about his mouth. 'Yet sleep's the last thing on my mind.'

'All the same, perhaps you should go.' Chessie was aware she was trembling, unable to take her eyes from him. 'But before you do, I have to thank you—for what you did for Jenny, and...' She hesitated.

'And?' Miles prompted.

'And for this dress.' She looked down at herself. `I don't think I've ever worn anything so lovely—even if it was only for half an evening. I—I'm so grateful.'

'You made it beautiful,' he said quietly.

Her voice broke. 'Please—you mustn't...'

'Why not?'

She said passionately, 'Because it isn't right—it isn't fair.'

Miles got slowly to his feet. 'You said you were grate¬ful,' he reminded her softly as he began to walk towards her. 'Isn't it time you offered some proof?'

She said his name in a small, frightened voice, but it didn't stop him.

'All evening,' he said, 'I've dreamed of this moment.' He reached her, and his arms went round her, pulling her hard against his body. 'Chessie.' His voice was suddenly harsh, passionately urgent. 'Don't send me away. Not to¬night.'

She knew that she should. But the stark, trembling yearn¬ing within her would not be denied any longer.

If this one night was all he could offer, she thought, then she would take it. Give herself this solitary memory of the few hours when he'd been hers alone to comfort her in the desert of loneliness that awaited her.

Then his mouth came down hard on hers, and all think¬ing ceased.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHESSIE'S bedroom was full of shadows, a small bedside lamp providing the sole illumination. She watched Miles close the door and come towards her, and knew that, no matter how much she wanted him, now that the moment had come she felt absurdly shy.

'You're trembling,' he said softly as he drew her towards him. He framed her face with his hands, looking searchingly into her eyes. 'Am I really so scary?'

'No. It's just that...'

'That in all the best stories, the virgin ends up with the prince, not the ogre?' He was smiling faintly, but there was a question in his eyes.

'Don't—don't ever use that word again,' she said pas¬sionately. 'Miles—I never did—I swear it...' And you were always the prince—only I was too blind to realise.

'I was teasing you,' he whispered. 'Isn't that allowed?'

He kissed her again, his mouth moving warmly and sen¬suously on hers, and she surrendered helplessly to the pleasure of it, her arms sliding up round his neck to hold him closer still.

His hand stroked her hair, and the nape of her neck, then moved downwards to release the tiny hook at the back of her dress, and, unhurriedly, to lower the zip.

Eyes closed, she stood motionless, listening to the heavy thud of her heartbeat, reassured by the gentleness of his touch.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, tensing as he slid the straps of the dress from her shoulders, and she felt the silky fabric glide down her body, and pool round her feet.

Her hands went up automatically to cover her bared breasts, but he caught her wrists, forestalling her.

He said huskily, 'Darling—please. I—need to look at you. To remember you like this always.'

Her lashes lifted wonderingly, and for a breathless mo¬ment she studied him. In the lamplight, he seemed almost haggard, deep hollows beneath his cheekbones, and the scar a livid slash as the burn of his gaze travelled over her.

He said softly, remotely, '"But beauty's self she is..."'

That strange note in his voice sent alarm signals through her senses. Because it sounded almost like regret—as if he planned, even at this moment, to step back.

Instinct came to her aid. Chessie lifted her hands, push¬ing back her hair in a deliberately languorous gesture, while the smile that curved her mouth beckoned and promised.

She whispered, 'Just a few inches of lace.'

She heard the harsh catch of his breath, saw the stark yearning in his face, and then she moved, taking his hand, and leading him to the bed.

They lay facing each other. He stroked the curve of her face with his hand, then kissed her softly, fleetingly on her mouth, her eyes, her throat, and the hollow beneath her ear.

But even as her body sighed with pleasure she was con¬scious that Miles was still fully dressed while she was al¬most naked. She reached shyly to unfasten his shirt, but he captured her hand and kissed it, whispering, 'Later.'

'I don't understand...'

'Don't try,' he murmured against her mouth. 'This is all just for you.'

He kissed her, his lips parting hers in sensuous mastery, and she surrendered her inner sweetness to the invasion of his tongue, her arms sliding up round his neck, her hands tangling in his hair as she responded.

He was touching her now, his fingers tracing tiny pat¬terns on her skin, the lightest brush of his hand making her pulses leap and throb.

The blue eyes were fixed on her face, observing every slight intake of breath between her parted lips, the dilation of her pupils, the play of colour in her cheeks.

Each thrill of response seemed to swell and intensify, and when, at last, his hand moulded her breast, the warm, rounded flesh blossomed against his palm, her nipple hard¬ening irresistibly under the exquisite teasing of his fingers. He bent his head, taking each rosy peak in turn between his lips, and suckling it gently.

The caressing hand moved downwards, exploring every curve and hollow, and she heard herself moan softly in mingled surprise and delight as her body moved restlessly in a growing fever of arousal and need.

His mouth covered hers, kissing her deeply and sensually in unequivocal demand as his hand pushed aside the scrap of lace and found the molten velvet heat of her.

Chessie gasped, her body arching against the intimate glide of his fingers as he stroked the core of her woman¬hood, exploring and inciting. Circling her tiny vibrant peak with languorous insistence as his mouth moved down to her breast.

His tongue flickering against her nipple echoed the fric¬tion of his touch against her secret heated bud. She could scarcely breathe, all her senses suspended in some limbo of anticipation. And, just as she thought she could bear no more, she was pierced by a pleasure so sudden and so fierce it was almost anguish, and she cried out as shivers of rap¬ture convulsed her entire being.

Afterwards there were tears on her face, and he brushed them away with his lips.

'Still scared?' he whispered.

She shook her head slowly. 'Only of myself.' The thought of what he could make her do—how he could make her feel—frankly terrified her. Yet at the same time, she could feel excitement building again inside her.

He laughed softly, and switched off the lamp.

In the darkness, she heard the rustle of his clothes as he removed them. Felt the warmth of his naked skin caressing hers as he pulled her back into his arms, the points of her breasts grazing his chest, his thighs hard against her soft¬ness.

As they kissed Miles took her hand, guiding her to him, so that she could experience the stark strength of his male arousal.

'I'm not made of glass,' he murmured as his lips began a leisurely traverse of her throat.

'I'm afraid of hurting you.' For the first time in her life, she found herself cursing her lack of experience. Her total uncertainty that she could please him on this one night they would spend together.

She felt his smile against her skin. 'If you do, I promise I'll scream.' Then, with his voice thickening suddenly, 'Oh, God, yes—yes...'

His mouth and hands were warm and sure as they moved on her, and she felt an answering heat building inside her as she caressed him. So that when his hands slid under her hips, lifting her gently towards him for his full possession, she was not merely acceptant, but eager for this last mys¬tery to be revealed. As he filled her, completed her in a way she had never dreamed of, she felt the breath catch in her throat.

Instantly, he paused. 'Are you all right?' His voice was shaken—urgent. 'Darling, I'm scared I'll hurt you too.'

Instinct came to her aid again. She moved, slowly and luxuriously, beneath him, hearing him gasp. 'Only if you stop,' she whispered.

At first he was gentle, murmuring endearments—reas¬surance—against her lips, then as she began to respond more boldly the rhythm of his mastery changed- strengthened. And she was carried with him, swept away on the flood-tide of his passion, her body as insistent as - driven , both of them aware of nothing but the rasp of their breathing, and each silken, burning thrust taking them inexorably towards their goal.

As the pleasure overtook her, overwhelmed her, she felt herself screaming silently as each glorious spasm tore into her, wrenching her apart, tossing her like glittering frag¬ments into a dark universe where there was only his voice, groaning her name like a prayer.

When the maelstrom receded, she lay, drained and spent, in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest. She could have remained there for ever, but she was suddenly aware that he did not share her total relaxation. That she could feel the tension radiating through him like an electric current. That he was trying to move, slowly and gingerly, his teeth gritted to hold back a groan.

She sat up. 'Miles—darling—what is it?'

'Nothing.' His voice was curt with pain. 'I'll be fine.'

'Oh, God, it's your back, isn't it?' She was suddenly frantic. 'I didn't think—didn't realise. You must be in ag¬ony.'

'A little.' There was faint laughter in his voice as his hand stroked her face. 'But the pleasure of you was well worth any torment, believe me.'

`I’ll get you something—a drink—painkillers.' She reached for the lamp and switched it on.

He shifted position quickly, pulling the sheet up to cover him. 'No—I don't need anything. And turn the light off— please.'

For a moment, she was bewildered, and then she remem¬bered the hidden scarring. The dream of happiness it had so brutally ended for him. And knew what she had to do.

She said gently, 'Miles—you've seen me naked. It's only fair if I claim the same privilege.'

His face was ashen, slicked with sweat. 'You don't un¬derstand...'

'Yes.' She bent over him, kissing his mouth. 'Yes, I do.'

Her lips moved down over his shoulder, licking the salt from his skin, and across to the hair-roughened plane of his chest, teasing the flat male nipples with the tip of her tongue.