In the Millionaire's Possession (33 page)

Helen
’
s entire being tensed in shock, followed immediately by an agony of guilty, terrified delight. She tried once more to say no. To find the strength, somehow, to push him away and stop this shameful, delicious pleasure before it carried her away beyond all the barriers she
’
d tried to build against him.

But the only sound that came from her throat was a small sob. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to distance herself
—
to hang on to some kind of self-control. But it was already too late.

Her awareness had shrunk to the distant splash of the rain, her own jagged, fevered breathing, and the hot, beautiful semidarkness that surrounded her
—
invaded her. She knew nothing but the response that Marc was forcing from her trembling body, the alchemy of his experienced caresses, seducing her bewildered senses and sweeping away her innocence for ever.

The pleasure began slowly, at first little more than a breeze rippling across still water, then building with irresistible, quivering urgency into a great wave, gathering force and speed as it lifted her, all control gone, to some unimagined peak of rapture and held her there.

Then the wave broke, and she crashed with it, helpless, whimpering, torn apart by the spasms of ecstasy that possessed her.

She lay dazed and trembling, unable to speak or move, or even to comprehend what had just happened to her. She was no longer certain where she was, or even who she was.

A strange euphoria was spreading throughout her body. Every bone, muscle and skin cell was utterly relaxed, tingling with this new delight, as if she was floating in some beatific dream, drained and weightless.

She was dimly aware that Marc had moved away from her, and found herself reaching out a bereft hand, searching for him blindly across the empty bed.

‘
Sois tranquille
,
mon amour
. I am here.
’
His voice was a whisper. He
’
d used his brief absence to strip, she realised, as he drew her to him, and she gasped silently as she felt the warmth of his aroused and powerful nakedness against her body.

Instinctively, she arched towards him, thrilling again at his touch, her arms circling his neck, the tips of her breasts grazing his hair-roughened chest, and heard him groan softly. His hands took her gently, positioning her, then he entered her with one strong, fluid thrust.

Her yielding was total, immediate. Almost languidly she lifted her legs, locking them round his hips, her own movements mirroring the smooth, almost voluptuous drive of his loins, drawing him deeper still into her body.

‘
Tell me.
’
His voice was a hoarse whisper.
‘
Tell me if I hurt you.
’

‘
I want you.
’
Her reply was hardly more than a breath.
‘
I want
—
everything…
’

She
’
d thought after that previous implosion of ecstasy that still lingered, suffusing her with its joy, she would find herself exhausted, emptied of sensation, incapable of anything but compliance. But she was wrong.

The controlled force of his possession was evoking a response that went far beyond mere surrender. Suddenly her body was coming unexpectedly, ardently to life again, and as his rhythm increased, became fiercer, she found she was being carried away with him, striving with him on some long, sweet spiral of such intensity that it frightened her.

Pleasure hovered on the verge of pain, and she heard herself crying out, crushing her mouth against his shoulder as the long, shuddering convulsions of her climax pulled her over the edge into Paradise. Seconds later he followed her, wildly groaning her name as he reached the white heat of fulfilment in his turn.

Afterwards they lay quietly in a tangle of sweat-soaked limbs, his arms holding her as she pillowed her head on his chest, both waiting for the storm of their breathing to subside.

But for Helen the descent to earth was swift, and soon unhappy.

Because now she knew there was no more room for pretence. She had taken as completely as she had given. And by so doing she
’
d sacrificed her self-respect, and any forlorn hope of feigning her indifference.

However it might have begun, Marc had given her a night she would remember always. But soon he would be lying with his lips against someone else
’
s hair, his long fingers drowsily caressing another woman
’
s breast. And she
’
d allowed herself to forget that for the sake of a few hours of total ravishment.

A little domestic entertainment
. The coolly jeering words came back to haunt her. Because that was all he wanted
—
to ensure that when he came to Monteagle she
’
d be waiting for him with passionate eagerness, ready to give him anything he wanted. A perpetual honeymoon, Helen thought, biting her lower lip, still swollen from his kisses. Until, of course, her sexual education was complete, by which time her novelty for him would probably have worn off.

And all this pain
—
this heartbreak
—
she had brought upon herself.

I shall have to learn not to think, she told herself, as Marc
’
s soft, regular breathing informed her that he
’
d fallen asleep. Not to wonder what he
’
s doing when he
’
s away, or who he might be with. No scenes and no accusations.

If I can manage to turn a perpetually blind eye, and he is reasonably discreet, then maybe our separate lives can be made to work.

She leaned across and switched off the lamp.

And now, she thought, she would try to sleep.

She opened her eyes to sunshine and birdsong, and Marc bending over her, clearly about to kiss her
—
and not for the first time, she thought, blushing, assailed by a vivid memory of him kissing her awake in the early dawn, and making love to her with such tenderness and grace that afterwards she
’
d found herself weeping in his arms.

‘
Bonjour
.
’
He propped himself on an elbow and smiled at her.
‘
You awaken very beautifully.
’

Her blush deepened. At some point during the night he must have retrieved the sheet, she realised, and covered her with it, because she now had a shield against the over-bright light of day. And, more importantly, against his eyes.

‘
Good morning,
’
she said, a touch awkwardly.
‘
Has
—
has the rain stopped?
’

‘
You are a true Englishwoman,
cherie
.
’
He was laughing.
‘
You wish to discuss the weather even when you are in bed with your lover.
’

But you
’
re not my lover, she thought with sudden pain, even as her body clenched once more in unwilling yearning. Last night had nothing to do with love. It was simply a vindication of your own prowess in bed, because I rejected you. You needed to prove that you could make me want you against my own will and judgement. And against all reason
—
because I
’
m not the only woman in your life, and we both know it.

‘
I
’
m sorry,
’
she said stiffly.

‘
No, you must not be. It is charming.
’
He leaned down and kissed her mouth softly.
‘
And I wish very much that we could stay here for ever, but we have a plane to catch. Besides,
’
he added, stroking her cheek,
‘
there will be tonight.
’

‘
Two planes,
’
Helen corrected, remembering the resolution she
’
d made last night and how badly she needed to keep it. He only had to look at her, she thought. Or smile. Or touch her lightly with a fingertip, and she was dying to melt in his arms. But she could not allow him to do this to her. Could not
—
would not
—
live this lie with him.
‘
We
—
we
’
re on different flights.
’
She took a steadying breath.
‘
And yours, if you remember, is the earliest.
’

‘
Different flights?
’
Marc repeated slowly.
‘
What are you talking about? We will be travelling together. You are coming with me to Paris,
naturellement
.
’

‘
No,
’
she said.
‘
I
’
m going back to England and Monteagle, as we agreed.
’

Marc sat up abruptly, the sheet falling away from his body, and she looked away swiftly. Oh, God, she needed no reminders…

He said,
‘
But that was yesterday
—
before…
’

‘
Before we had sex, you mean? You feel that should make some difference?
’
She kept her voice light.
‘
I don
’
t see why.
’

‘
I had hoped,
’
he said very quietly,
‘
that perhaps you would want to be with me. Now that we have found each other at last.
’

But not in Paris, she wanted to scream at him. Never in Paris
—
at this famous apartment of yours, in the bed where you make love to your mistress. Don
’
t you see that I
can
’
t
go there? And that I won
’
t
—
ever?

‘
But I shall be with you,
’
she returned instead.
‘
That is whenever you choose to come back to Monteagle.
’

‘
Which may not be for some time,
’
he said. He looked at her steadily.
‘
That does not concern you?
’

‘
You may come and go as you please. It
’
s not up to me to interfere in your life
—
your decisions.
’
The rawness in her heart gave her voice an edge.

‘
I believed,
’
he said with sudden bleakness,
‘
that I had given you that right. So why do you refuse me?
’
He paused, and his voice hardened.
‘
Is it because there is some other one involved in our relationship? Has that come between us? Answer me.
’

‘
You seem to know already.
’
She felt her heart give a sudden jolt. She hadn
’
t intended this, she thought wretchedly. She hadn
’
t thought he
’
d want to discuss Angeline Vallon or any of his women with her. She
’
d assumed he
’
d prefer her to ignore the rumours which would no doubt reach her. That he
’
d expect gratitude for Monteagle to keep her silent.

Why, she asked herself desperately, wasn
’
t he playing according to the rules? But then, when had Marc ever done so?

‘
Ah
,
Mon Dieu
.
’
He almost groaned the words, then was silent for a moment. At last, he said unevenly,
‘
Hélène
—
you are being a fool. Yet in spite of all this we can make our marriage work
—
I know it. This
—
other thing
—
it will not last. It cannot. And you cannot allow it to matter. To damage what we might have together.

‘
Cherie
.
’
His voice deepened.
‘
You must not do this to yourself
—
to us.
’