Love in Vogue (41 page)

She gulped then and looked into his eyes; brilliant blue eyes, as intense and tender as they had always been. Full of love and hope. He was hers.
Hers.
How could she have been so blind? So utterly stupid? And how dared he trick her into admitting her feelings? She launched herself at him, furious.

‘You pig! Making me think you’ve got someone else!’

He grinned devilishly, pulling her close. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

Oh, it was wonderful to be in his arms again, feel his heart pounding against hers. She flung her arms around him. ‘Yves, I love you. I love you!’

Their lips met. Yolande felt his fingers trying to loosen her hair. She quickly took out the clips and shook the chestnut locks free, then his mouth was burning hers as it had never done before. Hot, passionate kisses, his tongue seeking hers, drawing her into him, driving her wild with desire. His hands caressed her shoulders, her breasts, her thighs. She could hardly believe it was Yves. Her whole body ached for him.

Quickly upstairs hand in hand, along the corridor to his bedroom. Nervous, she suddenly freed herself and moved away. She’d adored him when she was a child, miserably watched him go out with other girls, been thrilled when he had finally told her he loved her and asked her to marry him; but they had never even seen each other completely naked. Now she was a couple of feet away from his bed and there was no mistaking the expression in his eyes.

He moved close and rested his hands on her arms. ‘Yolande, what’s wrong? I want to make love to you.’

‘But you … we never …’ She was stammering. But her face gave it all away.

‘My God, you didn’t think I couldn’t?’

‘What was I supposed to think? You’ve never so much as kissed me like that before.’

‘I want you now. I wanted you then. I’ve always wanted you.’ He pulled her tightly against him.

She was shocked to feel a huge erection pushing into her belly. No mistaking that, either. And then the nerves were jangling again. ‘Yves, I’m not that girl anymore.’ The tears sprang into her eyes. ‘You can’t want me now. I’m scarred and ugly, and I’ve been an absolute bitch, and …’

‘Don’t you say that! Just let me tell you what you are.’ He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. ‘My Yolande.’ Another kiss, just below her left ear, longer, deeper. ‘Beautiful.’ Her right ear this time, erotic, teasing. ‘Tender, warm.’ Her throat. Nibbling, licking.

Oh, he was so good at this. She felt a stab of raw lust right through her.

‘Kind, generous.’ Down between her breasts, tracing patterns on her skin with his tongue.

She moaned. What the hell was he doing to her?

‘Funny, clever.’

Before she realised what was happening, he had unzipped her dress and slipped it off, unhooked her bra. His tongue and teeth teased and sucked her nipples, setting off fire between her legs. More, please, more … His mouth moved down, over her belly, then lower. Her briefs were suddenly gone, and he was stoking the heat between her thighs. Light, flickering touches.

‘Adorable, charming.’ He was pulling her stocking down, so gently, over the scars on her left leg. And then he dropped light kisses all along each wound. ‘Sexy, desirable …’

‘Oh Yves,’ she said helplessly. ‘Show me.’

He scooped her up in his arms and she was on the bed. His mouth came down on hers, crushing, demanding this time, and she responded with an urgent hunger she didn’t know she possessed. She had to have him, hold him, love him, feel him throb beneath her hands. Clothes were tugged, sent flying.

‘Dear God,’ Yolande murmured when he lay naked beside her. ‘You’re enormous.’

‘I’m all yours.’

Skin to skin, heart-stopping kisses, his hands and fingers exploring, detonating explosions throughout her body. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his mouth back again and again, each kiss a fresh exploration; deep, wet, endless pleasure, and she couldn’t seem to get enough. She reached down to touch him, but he pushed her hand away.

‘You first.’

Yolande just melted into it. Such clever fingers, stroking
.
Just there, oh perfect, lovely … don’t stop. No, don’t stop! Her legs were stretched wider, knees pushed back. Then his tongue. Oh my God, where had he learnt to do
that
? Patrick had never hit that spot. She writhed under him and moaned, panted, screamed as he pushed her to the edge, and then he plunged his fingers into her and played her like an instrument. His mouth closed over hers as she bucked and trembled and gasped his name.

And then he made her come again. And finally, when she thought she couldn’t take any more, thought she’d die, he entered her and took her somewhere she’d never been before, where all that mattered was Yves and the moment and his body, heart and soul becoming a living part of her.

Much later Yolande lay
cradled in
his arms, almost unbearably happy but totally confused. ‘I never knew it could be like that,’ she murmured, kissing his neck. ‘It was magical, darling. No one’s ever made me feel that way before.’

‘I always knew it would be magic with you.’

‘Yves, can you forgive me? Truly forgive me? I’ve been so horrible to you.’ It hurt her to think of the pain she’d caused him. ‘I really want to make you happy. I love you more than I can possibly say. Oh God, I’m making such a hash of this. I want to apologise.’

‘You’re doing fine.’ His voice was thick with emotion. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. We start from here. I love you, Yolande. I’ve never loved anyone else.’ He kissed her, long and hard. ‘I never will.’

‘I’ve got something to confess too. I’ve been in love with you since I was five years old. Before I even knew what it meant. You were always there. Even when we quarrelled, even when we were apart. You always will be.’

He pulled her closer, and she clung to him. ‘My darling. How on earth did I manage to lose you?’

‘I thought you didn’t love me. Didn’t need me. Didn’t really want me.’

He groaned. ‘But I asked you to marry me! It’s not something I make a habit of. And I’ve wanted to make love to you for years. Ever since you stopped wearing your hair in that ridiculous ponytail. How old were you then?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Do you remember you said you’d have your hair down or cut it all off? I could have died for you then. But you were only thirteen and I was eighteen. So I waited. And you had that grungy boyfriend at the Lycée.’

‘Pierre? He wasn’t grungy.’

‘He certainly was. So I waited. Then you went to university in the States. So I waited some more. But I wanted you all right.’

‘But when we were engaged, why were you afraid to touch me? You never even kissed me properly.’

‘If I’d kissed you how I wanted to, I couldn’t have kept control of myself.’

She looked at him, then flushed with embarrassment as realisation dawned. ‘Oh God. You wanted to wait until we were married. Yves, I’m so sorry. If you’d only just told me …’

He sighed. ‘It’s my fault. I was a complete idiot. I thought you understood that you were so precious to me, I wanted to make it mean something really special. A sign of my commitment. If you hadn’t got sidetracked at Hervy we would have married sooner and then it would have all worked out.’

That was a very polite way of referring to Patrick. Yolande kissed him lingeringly. Some day she would earn his forgiveness – now she just took it with love.

‘Do you know, my grandmother warned me about going with you to Vougeot? She said you were sure to get ideas.’

‘Actually, I had a few before I asked you.’

She sat up. ‘You know, I think I’m rather cross with you.’

‘Mmm?’

‘I need to make you pay.’ She ran both hands slowly over the thick black hair on his chest and stomach, down his sides, and over his thighs, then massaged her way back up to his groin. He was such a gorgeous man, all rippling muscle and hard contours and he was fully erect again. She wanted more of him, much much more.

Yves smiled. ‘Why?’

Her hands wrapped around his cock, stroking, fondling. She knew she could make him do whatever she wanted. Intoxicating power. ‘For making me jealous. For making me fall in love with you. Twice.’ She wanted to make him quiver, make him tremble. She lowered her head. ‘And for making me wait all these years.’

He suppressed a moan as her tongue made contact. ‘Wait for what?’

‘For the pleasure of driving you mad.’

She didn’t think she ever wanted to stop, could ever have enough, give him enough, show him that he meant all to her, that she belonged to him and never wanted to belong anywhere else. Every taste of him left her wanting more. And she gave more.

If this wasn’t heaven, Yves didn’t know what was. She was expertly tormenting him, thrilling him, emptying his mind of everything except the two of them and the night. When he could take no more, he hauled her up and took her mouth in a long kiss.

She lowered herself onto him, eager, aching. She couldn’t believe how right it felt, how familiar to be filled so completely by Yves. And the dance began again.

‘I forgot to ask you something,’ he said.

She was in a fine rhythm now, hips pumping, breath catching. ‘Hmm? What?’

‘How soon can you marry me?’

‘You want an answer right now?’

How did he expect her to think straight with him throbbing and pounding inside her, building up layers of heat and ecstasy?

‘Darling,’ he said, and thrust harder, ‘it’s what’s known as pressing home one’s advantage.’

‘Name the day,’ she gasped. ‘Because I certainly can’t even remember what week it is. Oh, Yves. … 
Yves 
…!’

And that was answer enough.

The following day Philippe saw it instantly, the moment they got out of the car at the Château de Briteuil and walked towards him. He gave Yves a huge smile and a bear hug.

‘Nice work, Yves.
Finally.
’

Then he hoisted Yolande up in his arms, swung her round, and planted two kisses on each cheek. ‘Hello, beautiful. I hope we’re top of the guest list.’

‘What guest list?’

‘You’re not going to tell me you and my slowcoach brother aren’t planning a wedding at last?’

‘How did you know?’ she demanded when he put her down.

‘You have the look,’ he said, as they turned to enter the house. ‘Both of you. I think it’s catching. I saw the very same look on my own face in the mirror this morning.’

Yolande caught something else in his expression. ‘Philippe! Claire’s pregnant, isn’t she?’

He stopped and held out his arms as they both jumped him with shrieks of delight. It was going to be one hell of a party.

Grace Beidecker held the phone closer to her ear. ‘How was the birthday party, Corinne? Oh, good, good. Do give Marie-Christine my love. You’re
engaged
? Darling, that’s marvellous! Can I speak to him? Hello, Miles, my dear … I’m thrilled … Yes, June should be good. We’ll block out our diaries. Oh, Yolande wants a word. Hello, darling. How was the dinner last night? You’re
what
?
Seriously
? Fantastic! Do give him a big kiss from me. Yes, of course, we’d be absolutely delighted to … so soon? Well, I understand …’

Tex sauntered up to her as the call ended. ‘What’s the big story?

‘Corinne and Miles have just got engaged. And Yolande and Yves are getting married in a fortnight.’

For once his composure was ruffled. ‘
In a fortnight?
They weren’t even dating the last I heard.’

‘Tex, please … She wants you to give her away.’

‘No kidding.’ He gave her a comical look and tugged her into his arms. ‘Those girls of yours will be the death of me, Grace. OK, you win. I guess that means we won’t be staying home for Christmas after all. I knew I shouldn’t have bought those new slippers.’

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