Novels by PENNY JORDAN - الصفحة 18

18-11-07, 07:32 PM

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الكاتب:	نيارااا
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التسجيل:	Jun 2006
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Blackmailing the socity Bride

Blackmailing the socity Bride

Synopsis:

Marriage: Millionaire banker Marcus Canning has decided it's time to
become a father - and a husband....

Penniless: Lucy is facing crippling debts alone - having kicked out her
cheating, stealing ex-husband....

Wedded: Lucy knows she's been chosen by Marcus for convenience - but
she's always loved him and she can't resist his passionate lovemaking....

Sex: That's all it is for Marcus - until he discovers his wife is being
blackmailed by another man....

Chapter One

'So what you're saying is that my ex-husband has damaged my business so
badly that it and I are both virtually bankrupt?'

Lucy stared at her solicitor. A deepening sense of sickening shock and
fear was gripping her, a feeling that the situation she was involved in
was so frightening and unbearable that it could not possibly be real.

But it was real. She was here, seated in front of Mr McVicar, while he
told her that her ex-husband had so badly damaged the reputation and
financial status of the event organisation company she had set up with
such enthusiasm and delight prior to their marriage that it was no
longer viable.

Nick had cheated her sexually and financially all through their brief
marriage...but then, hadn't she done some cheating herself? A guilty
conscience wasn't going to help her now, Lucy warned herself, as she
struggled with the massive weight of the problems she now faced.

'I've got some commissions for events for the rest of this year,' she
told the solicitor, crossing her fingers behind her back and hoping that
he wouldn't ask her how many, since in reality there were so few.
'Perhaps, in view of that, the bank.,.?'

Her solicitor shook his head. He liked his pretty young client, and felt
very sorry for her, but in his opinion her nature was too gentle for the
unforgiving world of business.

'I'm sorry, my dear,' he told her. 'As you've already

6

said yourself, several potential clients have cancelled then-events and
asked for their deposits back already, and I'm afraid... Well, let's
just say we live in a harsh world, where confidence is something no one
can put a price on.'

'And because of what Nick has done no one will have any confidence in
Pret a Party any more-is that what you mean?' Lucy asked him bitterly.
'Even though Nick is no longer a part of the business, or my life, and I
was the one who started it up in the first place?'

The solicitor's sympathetic look was all the answer she needed.

'I dare say I shouldn't blame clients for backing out. After all, I
suppose in their eyes if I was stupid enough to marry Nick then I can't
have much credibility,' Lucy said with bitter humour. That was certainly
what Marcus believed. She knew that well enough.

Marcus. If there was one person she would like to somehow magically
remove from her life and her memories for ever, that person wasn't Nick,
but Marcus.

'Is there nothing I can do to save the business?' She appealed to her
solicitor.

'If you could find a new partner-someone of probity and known financial
stature, whom people respect and trust, and who is willing to inject
enough capital to settle all Pret a Party's outstanding obligations...'

'But I intend to pay those off myself. I still have money in my trust
fund,' Lucy interrupted fiercely.

'Yes, of course. I realise that. But I'm afraid that clearing Pret a
Party's debts, whilst a very honourable thing to do, will not revive
client confidence in you, Lucy. Regrettably, the actions of your
ex-husband have damaged the reputation of the business virtually beyond
repair, and the fact that both your partners have left Pret a Party-'

'But that's because they both got married and have other
responsibilities now, that's all. Not because of anything else! Carly's
pregnant and has her son to look after, as well as working alongside
Ricardo with the orphanages he has set up, and Julia has a new baby to
look after-plus she's involved in the Foundation-'

'Of course.' Her solicitor soothed her sympathetically. "I know all
this, Lucy, but unfortunately the eyes of the outer and greater
world-the world from which you hope to attract new business-do not see
it. I really am sorry, my dear.' He paused. 'Have you thought of
approaching Marcus? He-'

'No! Never! And I absolutely and totally forbid you to say anything
about any of this to him, Mr McVicar.' Lucy spoke fiercely, standing up
so abruptly that she almost knocked over her chair. Panic and misery
gripped her by the throat as powerfully as though it were Marcus himself
closing his fingers around it. How he would love this. How he would love
telling her that he had warned her all along that this would happen. How
he would look down that aristocratic nose of his with those ice-cold
eyes while he ticked off a list of all that she had done wrong, all the
ways in which she had failed.

Sometimes, in the eyes of her family and Marcus, Lucy felt as though she
had spent the whole of her life failing. For a start she had been a girl
and not a boy, a daughter and not a son-a daughter to be married off and
not a son to be an heir. And, even though her parents had gone on to
have a son, Lucy had somehow always felt she had let them down by being
born first, and the wrong sex. Not that her parents had ever said that
she was a disappointment to them, but Lucy had been born with a
sensitive kind of nature and did not need to be told what people felt.
She had sensed her parents' disappointment-just as

8

in later years she had recognised Marcus's impatient irritation with her.

Not that anyone ever needed to guess what Marcus thought or felt. She
had never known anyone more capable of or uncompromising about saying
exactly what he thought and felt. And he had made it plain from the
first moment he had confronted Lucy across the large desk in his London
office that he did not approve of the fact that her late great-uncle had
left her such a large sum of money.

'I suppose that's why you agreed to be my trustee, is it?' Lucy had
accused him. 'Because you don't approve of me having the money and you
want to make life as difficult for me as possible!'

'That kind of remark merely confirms my concern about your late
great-uncle's mental state when he made his will,' had been Marcus's
caustic response.

'I suppose you were hoping he would leave his money to you?' Lucy had
shot back.

In response, Marcus had given her a look that had made her face burn,
and made her feel as though she wanted to crawl into a corner.

'Don't be so bloody infantile,' he had told her coldly.

Of course she hadn't realised then that Marcus had millions, if not
billions of his own, tucked away in the vaults of his family's merchant
bank, of which he was the CEO.

Mr McVicar watched her sympathetically. He knew perfectly well of the
tension and ill feeling that existed between his client and the
formidably wealthy banker her late great-uncle had appointed as trustee
for the money he had left her.

That money had nearly all gone now-swallowed up by the greed and
fraudulent actions of Lucy's ex-husband and the failure of her
once-successful small business.

But in his view there was still no one better placed to help her in her
present difficult situation than Marcus, whose business savvy was both
awesome and legendary. Mr McVicar himself had urged her not to agree to
her bank's request that she secure Pret a Party's finances by pledging
her inheritance, but she had refused to listen to him. Morally Lucy was
beyond reproach, but unfortunately she had been too gullible for her own
good, and she was paying the price for that now.

He returned to the problem at hand. 'If you could attract a wealthy
business partner who would be prepared to put money into the business,
then-'

'Actually, that's exactly what I've been doing.'

As soon as the words had left her mouth Lucy wondered what on earth she
was doing. Was it Mr McVicar's reference to Marcus that had prompted her
into lying to him and creating a fictional potential backer? Lucy closed
her eyes in helpless acknowledgement of her own vulnerability. Somehow
just hearing Marcus's name was enough to goad her into a fury of
defensiveness.

Mr McVicar looked both relieved and surprised.

'Well, that is really excellent news, Lucy. It puts a different
complexion on matters entirely,' he told her enthusiastically, looking
so pleased that her guilt increased uncomfortably. 'The very best
outcome one could have hoped for, in fact. But obviously it is something
we shall need to discuss. I think we should set up a meeting with your
proposed partner and his or her legal advisers just as soon as we can.
Oh, and of course we must let your bank know what is in the wind. I am
sure that they will be inclined to be far more flexible once they know
that fresh capital will be injected into Pret a Party. I also think it
would be a good idea to go public, even perhaps take a half-page
announcement in those papers most frequently read by your clients
stating once again that your ex-husband

10

now has no access to or involvement with any aspect of Pret a Party's
business, and that moreover you now have a new partner. That should do a
tremendous amount to offset the upsetting effect Nick's fraudulent
behaviour has had on the business.'

Lucy felt as though she were trapped in ever-deepening mud of a
particularly sticky and clinging consistency. Why on earth had she let
the thought of Marcus's disapproval propel her into such stupidity? What
on earth had she done? How could she admit now to Mr McVicar that she
had lied-and why?

'Er, I can't tell you who he is at the moment, Mr McVicar,' Lucy began
uncomfortably. 'It's all very much a secret. Negotiations
are...um...well, you know how it is...'

'Of course. But I must urge you to remember, Lucy, that time is very
much of the essence here.'

Nodding her head, Lucy made her escape as quickly as she could. How
could she have lied like that? It went against everything she believed
in. Now she felt sickeningly guilty and ashamed of herself, and she had
to blink away her self-pitying tears as she stood outside her
solicitor's Mayfair office in the bright autumn sunshine.

What on earth was she going to do? It would take a miracle to save her
now. Automatically, she turned the corner and hurried into Bond Street,
not bothering to glance into the windows of the expensive shops lining
the street. Designer labci clothes were not really her thing. She liked
vintage clothes, salvaged from street markets and family attics. Their
fabrics were so lush, the feel of them against her skin something she
treasured and loved: real silk and satin cashmere; sturdy wool; cool
cotton and linen. Man-made fibres might be more practical for modern-day
city living, but in many ways she was an old-fashioned

girl who craved a return to a quieter, more gentle way of life.

The truth was that secretly she would have loved nothing more than to
marry and produce a large brood of much-loved children whom she and her
husband would raise in an equally large and loved country house. She
envied her two best friends their happy marriages and new young families
more than they or anyone else knew-after all, she had her pride, just
like anyone else. It was that pride that had led her into setting up
Pret a Party in the first place. The very same pride that had just led
her into telling that stupid, stupid lie, she reminded herself miserably.

The magazines on a nearby newsstand caught her eye, and she stopped to
study them. To the forefront, as always, was A-List Life. Lucy started
to smile.

Its eccentric owner and editor Dorland Chesterfield had been such a good
friend to her, using Pret a Party to organise several of the events he
had hosted-events attended by the world's top celebrities. She might
even have considered turning to him for help to get her out of the mess
Nick had left her in were it not for the fact that she knew if there was
anything guaranteed to overwhelm his genuine kind-heartedness it was his
love of passing on gossip. The last thing she needed right now was to
have the story of her downfall spread over the pages of A-List Life.

Of course both her friends-now ex-partners in Pret a Party-had extremely
wealthy husbands, and both of them had in turn come to see her and
gently offered financial help, but Lucy could not accept it. For one
thing there was that wretched pride of hers, and for another it was not
just money she needed, but someone to work in the business with her.
Being given money to clear Pret a Party's debts was a kind gesture, but
she wanted-needed, in fact-to Prove that she was not the silly fool
everyone obviously

12

thought her, and that she could make a success of her business.

Yes, marrying Nick had been a mistake, and, yes, she had-as Marcus had
unmercifully pointed out to her- rushed into the marriage, but she'd had
her own reasons for doing that. Reasons she could never, ever allow
Marcus to discover.

She picked up a copy of A-List Life and handed over some coins, giving a
reciprocal smile to the newsstand vendor before turning to cross the
road. The sunlight glinting on her shoulder-length naturally blonde hair
caused the driver of a large, highly polished, diplomat-plated Mercedes
to slow down and study her appreciatively.

As she regained the pavement Lucy flipped open the magazine and quickly
checked the *******s-more out of habit than anything else. It was over
three months now since Pret a Party had managed a large event of any
kind, never mind one glitzy enough to merit page-space in Dorland's
magazine, but to her astonishment she suddenly saw Pret a Party's name
beneath the words: A-List Life's Favourite Party of All Time.'

Bemused, she turned the pages, her eyes widening as she recognised the
photographs covering the entire mid-section of the magazine. They were
from the huge summer party Pret a Party had organised for A-List Life
the previous year.

Tears stung her eyes. It was so typical of Dorland to do something so
generous--and it was generous of him to republish those photographs,
even it" at the same time it was also a way of blowing his own trumpet.

Although at the time she had refused to admit it to anyone, she had
known then that her marriage had been a mistake, and she had known, too,
that Nick was being unfaithful. She had known that Nick was cheating on her,

yes, but she had not known that he was also defrauding her business and
her customers-even if her two best friends Carry and Julia had suspected
what was happening.

Out of concern for her they had kept their suspicions to themselves. Not
so Marcus. Lucy knew that she would never be able to forget the searing
humiliation of having to stand in front of Marcus whilst he listed with
cold fury the fraudulent activities Nick had been engaged in whilst in
charge of finances in Pret a Party.

'Why the hell did you marry him in the first place?' he had demanded
savagely, before adding, 'No, don't bother to tell me. I already know
the answer. Did it never occur to you that you could have sex with him
without marrying him?'

Lucy's face burned hotly now, just remembering how Marcus had looked at her,

'Perhaps I wanted more than sex,' she had countered. She had wanted
more, certainly, but she had not received it. But then, neither had she
given Nick more. And as for the sex... Her face burned again, but for a
different reason.

The Nick who had spoken so urgently and flatteringly of his desire for
her before their marriage had very quickly turned into a Nick who
derided and taunted her for her lack of sexual expertise and
desirability after it. And who could blame him? The effort of
maintaining the fantasy of hot, urgent longing for him with which she
had thrown herself into their relationship had proved too much for her
to sustain once they were married. Nick had taunted her for her sexual
inexperience, claiming that she was frigid and she turned him off, and
she had been in too much torment, compounded by her guilt and
self-loathing, to protest.

'More than sex? Really? And you actually thought you

14

would get more from someone like him?' he had demanded sarcastically.

'It's all very well for you to stand there and-and criticise me,' Lucy
had told him wildly. 'But I don't see that you are exactly having any
success with a long-term relationship!'

'Maybe that's because I haven't chosen to commit to one. I can certainly
assure you that when I do my commitment to it and my conviction about it
will be properly thought out and permanent. My decision won't be made
off the back of imagining myself in love following an alfresco holiday
shag.'

Lucy's hands tightened into impotent fists now, just remembering those
contemptuous words, and the manner in which they had been delivered,
with Marcus looking at her with that arrogant, obnoxious, Marcus look of
his.

She had tried to defend herself, of course. 'That was not-I was not-'she
had begun, but typically Marcus had refused to allow her to continue.
'Oh. come off it, Lucy,' he'd said harshly, 'we all know what happened.
After all, the photographs were plastered all over the celebrity gossip
rags. You, minus bikini top, draped all over Blayne, saying that you
were up for a good time and looking for everything that went with that."

'Goodness,' she had retaliated, in a brittle voice, 'you've actually
remembered the caption word for word. Did you have to practise repeating
it for very long to do that, Marcus?'

Of course she had regretted the idiotic quote recorded in the magazine.
But when you were jet lagged, and you'd packed in such a rush that you'd
omitted to pack matching bikini tops and bottoms, and you got caught out
and papped by some prowling paparazzi with nothing better to do and no
one better to photograph, you naturally did your

best to make a joke of your plight-especially when those same paparazzi
could sometimes be so important to the success of your business.

Not all celebrities, no matter what they might choose to say in public,
genuinely wanted to avoid those camera lenses. Many actively sought out
the events and parties where they would be spotted and photographed.
Thus, Lucy had felt she could not afford to offend the guy who had
snapped her, no matter what her own personal feelings.

If he'd seen her twenty-four hours later, then the photograph he would
have taken would have been a very different one. Then, after a decent
night's sleep and with the loan of a bikini from Jules, she would
probably have been in control enough to tell him truthfully that she was
simply taking a much-needed holiday from the mounting stress of running
a successful business.

Unfortunately the photographer had taken it into his head that her life
was far more interesting than it actually was, and from then on neither
he nor his camera had been very far from her side.

Nick had revelled in the attention. At the time she had taken that as a
sign that, unlike the other men she had dated, he would be able to cope
with her work and its effect on their personal life. She hadn't realised
that for Nick everything had its price-including photographs of them
together, if not actually having sex in a variety of exotic locations
then as close to it as was possible, given that she was wearing bikini
bottoms and he was wearing swimming shorts.

She had had no idea that she was being set up with a view to them being
taken until it was too late and they had been published. And by then she
and Nick were married-

Naturally in public she'd had to shrug off her real feelings and pretend
that she welcomed her new image as a

16

randy, any thing-goes, up-for-it and eager for sex party girl, only too
delighted to let the whole world see how much she wanted her new
husband. Even if by then that same new husband had been privately
calling her frigid and useless in bed, and spending more nights out of
their marriage bed than he was spending in it with her.

She looked at her watch a little bit anxiously. She had spent rather
longer with her solicitor than she had expected, and she was due to put
in an appearance at her great-aunt Alice's ninetieth birthday party this
afternoon.

Great-Aunt Alice lived in Knightsbridge, in a huge old-fashioned
apartment that was always freezing cold because, despite her wealth, she
refused to have the central heating on.

No one in the family ever wanted to visit her in winter, and even in
summer the wise visited equipped with extra layers in the form of
cardigans, pashminas and the like, to ward off the icy blasts which
Great-Aunt Alice insisted were necessary for good health and were the
reason she was still hale and hearty at ninety.

'Balls,' Lucy's younger cousin Johnny had always claimed. 'The reason
she's still alive is because she's too bloody mean to die. God knows, I
could do with my share of her millions.'

"What makes you think you'll get a share?' Lucy's brother Piers had
asked wryly.

'I'm bound to," Johnny had replied smugly. 'I'm her favourite.'

'Yah? Well, you certainly work hard enough at it,' Piers had mocked him.

Nineteen-year-old Johnny, with his slightly louche lifestyle, permanent
lack of money and winning ways, had a reputation within the family of
being someone who was constantly wheeling and dealing. Lucy suspected
that Marcus probably disapproved of Johnny almost as much as he did her.

Marcus! But she didn't disapprove of him, did she? And that was the
cause of, if not all, then surely most of the problems in her life. It
had, after all, been to escape from loving Marcus and the knowledge that
that love would never be returned that she had thrown herself into
Nick's arms. And it was because she still loved Marcus now, despite all
her attempts to stop doing so, that she treated him with hostility and
resentment. That was her shield, her only protection against the
potential humiliation of Marcus-or anyone else-ever discovering how she
felt about him.

19

'Goodness. It's actually warm in here!' Lucy removed the cashmere wrap
she had pulled on over her delicate silk chiffon dress the moment she
walked into Great-Aunt Alice's hallway.

'Yes, I bribed Johnson to put the heat on.' Her brother Piers grinned.

'You might have told me that before,' Lucy grumbled affectionately, as
she fanned herself with her hand to cool down her flushed face. 'How
warm did you tell him to make it? It's like a sauna in here. The flowers
I've bought Great-Aunt Alice will have wilted before she gets them.'

'Never mind your flowers-what about my chocolates?' Piers told her ruefully.

'Piers thought Johnson was probably still working in Fahrenheit,' Lucy's
father chipped in. 'So he told him to set the temperature gauge at
sixty-eight. None of us realised what had happened until Johnson came
back and said that the gauge only went to forty.'

Lucy joined in the good-natured laughter at her brother's expense, and
then suddenly froze as the door opened and Marcus walked in.

Was it her imagination or was there really a small, sharp silence-as
though not just she but everyone else was aware of just how formidable
and commanding Marcus was?

It wasn't only that he was tall-just nicely over six foot-or even that
he was sexily broad-shouldered and taut-muscled. It wasn't even that
combination of thick dark hair and striking ice-grey eyes which could
sometimes burn almost green.

So what was it about him that made not just her own sex but men as well
turn and look towards him'' Turn and look up to him, Lucy amended.

Could it have something to do with the fact that he ran the merchant
bank which had been in his family for so many generations? Because of
that he was in a position of great trust, responsible not just for the
present and future of his clients, but in many cases for the secrets of
their ancestors as well.

But even if one took away all of that-even if he had walked in as a
stranger off the street-women would still have turned their heads to
look at him and would have gone on looking, Lucy acknowledged. Because
Marcus was sexy. In fact, Marcus was very sexy. Her heart attempted to
do a high dive inside her chest, then realised it was attempting the
impossible and ended up crashing sickeningly to its floor. She gulped at
the glass of champagne Piers had handed to her as much for something to
do- some reason not to have to look at Marcus-as for Dutch courage.

He was wearing one of his customary hand-made plain dark suits, a
typical banker's white shirt with a blue stripe, and a red tie.

She took another gulp of her champagne.

'Want another?* Piers asked her.

Lucy shook her head. She wasn't much of a drinker anyway, and her work
meant that it was essential she kept a clear head in social situations,
so she had quickly learned to simply take a small sip from her glass and
then abandon it discreetly somewhere. The up side of this was that she
always had a clear head, but the down side was that her body was simply
not up to dealing with anything more

20

than one small glass of anything alcoholic. But right now the numbing
effect of a couple of glasses of champagne was probably just what she
needed to help her cope with Marcus's presence, intimidatingly up close,
if not exactly as personal as her foolish heart craved.

'Oh, good. Marcus has made it after all,' Lucy heard her mother
exclaiming to Lucy's great-uncle in a pleased voice. 'Charles, do go
over and ask him to join us.'

'Goodness, it is hot,' Lucy said wildly. 'I think I'd better go and get
these poor flowers into some water.'

Her heart was thumping its familiar message to her as she made her
escape, champagne glass in hand, heading for the rambling patchwork of
corridors and small rooms to the rear of the huge apartment which her
great-aunt still referred to as the servants' quarters.

How on earth did Johnson and Mrs Johnson, aided only by a daily, manage
to cope with looking after somewhere this size? Lucy wondered
sympathetically as she hurried down one of the corridors and into the
'flower room'. A row of vases had already been assembled on the worktop,
already filled with water, and Lucy unwrapped her own offering and
busied herself placing the flowers stem by stem into water.

Was she really so afraid of seeing Marcus? Her hands trembled. Did she
really need to ask herself that question? How old was she? Twenty-nine.
And how long had it been since she had come down from university and
looked at Marcus across the width of his desk and known...?

Tears suddenly blurred her vision.

Oh, yes, she had known then, immediately, that she had fallen in love
with him, but she had known with equal immediacy that he did not return
her feelings-that in fact, so far as he was concerned, her presence in
his life was

an inconvenience and an irritation he would far rather have been without.

She had been young enough then to dream her foolish dreams regardless,
to fantasise about things changing, about walking into Marcus's office
one day and having Marcus look at her as though he wanted to drag her
clothes off and possess her right there and then. She had whiled away
many an irascible lecture from Marcus by allowing herself the pleasure
of imagining him standing up and coming towards her. taking hold of her
and putting his desk, or sometimes his chair, more often than not both
of them, to the kind of erotic use for which they had definitely not
been designed.

But the reality was, of course, that she was the one who wanted to tear
his clothes off. And then one day she had looked at him and seen the way
he was looking at her And she had known that her foolish erotic
fantasies and her even more foolish romantic daydreams were just that.
Marcus did not either want or love her, and he was never going to do so.
That was when she had decided that she needed to find someone
else-because if she didn't one-day her feelings were going to get too
much for her and she was going to totally humiliate herself by declaring
them to Marcus.

A husband and then hopefully a family of her own would stop her from
doing that, surely? she'd thought. But she hadn't even managed to get
that right, had she? Her marriage had been a disaster-privately and
publicly. Very publicly.

-She wasn't the kind of person who wanted to be alone. She loved
children, and had known from a young age that she wanted her own.
Although she loved them both dearly, sometimes she felt wretchedly
envious of the love and happiness her two best friends had found with
their husbands.

22

And one day she knew Marcus would marry-and when he did... A shudder of
vicious pain savaged her emotions.

When he did, she made herself continue, she hoped to be protected from
what she knew she would feel by the *******ment and love she had found
with another man and her family. How foolishly and dangerously she had
deluded herself.

She couldn't stay here in the flower room for ever, Lucy realised, and
with any luck Marcus might actually have already left by now. Giving her
flowers a final tweak, she turned to leave.

As soon as she opened the door into the drawing room the first person
she saw was her cousin Johnny, who grabbed her arm and announced
eagerly, 'Great-I've been looking for you. More champagne?' Without
waiting for her to respond, he took a glass from a passing waiter and
handed it to her.

'Must say the old girl isn't stinting with the champers. It must be
costing her a pretty penny to put this do on. Champers...waiters. Did
you organise it?'

'Yes,' Lucy said ruefully, remembering the hard bargain her great-aunt
had driven over costs, and how in the end she had given in and suggested
she give Great-Aunt Alice the business cost as her birthday present,
provided her great-aunt supplied the champagne, the hors d'oeuvres and
the waiters' wages. Which probably explained the lack of any food, Lucy
decided.

She tried not to look at Marcus, who was standing the full width of the
room away from her but facing towards her, and watching her, she could
see, with a very grim look tightening his mouth. She took a quick,
nervous, sustaining sip of her champagne, and then another. She couldn't
bear to think about what would happen if Marcus ever got to hear about
that idiotic lie she had told Mr.
McVicar. In the absence of a miracle, she was going have to dispose of
her supposed investor as speedily as she had invented him.

'Actually, Luce, there's something I need to discuss with you.'

'What?' Somehow or other Lucy managed to drag her attention away from
Marcus.

'I need to talk to you,' Johnny repeated patiently.

'You do?' Immediately Lucy was alert to her own prospective danger.
'Johnny, if it's a loan you're after,' she began warningly, 'I haven't
forgotten that you still owe me fifty pounds from last time. Even if you
have.'

'It isn't anything like that,' Johnny assured her earnestly. 'Fact is,
sweet cos, it just so happens that a business acquaintance of mine has
asked me if I would introduce you to him.'

'He has?' Lucy said cautiously.

'Mmm. Have another glass of champagne,' he added encouragingly, removing
Lucy's half-empty glass before she could refuse or protest and summoning
the still-circulating waiter so that he could hand her a fresh glass.

18-11-07, 07:39 PM

المشاركة رقم: 87

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
اللقب:

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jun 2006
العضوية:	7129
المشاركات:	287
الجنس	أنثى
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نقاط التقييم:	43

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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

On the other side of the room Marcus's unwavering focus on her had
hardened into a grim-mouthed coldness that caused Lucy's hand to tremble
so much she almost spilt her champagne.

'If he's thinking of commissioning Pret a Paity to do an event for
him...' she began, trying to move round so that she couldn't see Marcus,
and failing as he moved ton.

'No, what he's got in mind is making an investment in Pret a Party.'

'What?' Now she did spill a few drops of her champagne, before managing
to take a steadying gulp of it.

'Oh. yes. He's a bit of an entrepreneur. He's made absolutely stacks of
money from this turnkey business he

24

owns. You know the kind of thing...' Johnny enlarged. 'He employs
cleaners, cooks, someone to wait in for the gas man, someone to collect
your cleaning-all that kind of stuff-for these rich City types who can't
afford the time to do it themselves. He saw the spread in A-List Life,
and heard that you're my cousin, and he said that Pret a Party is
exactly the kind of investment he's looking for. So I said I was seeing
you today and that I'd sound you out.'

'Johnny...' Her head was spinning, and it didn't occur to her to connect
that with her unfamiliar consumption of champagne.

'Why don't you let him talk to you and tell you what he's got in mind
himself? I could give him your office phone number...'

When she had reflected that she needed a miracle she'd never imagined
she would get one-and certainly not one of this potential magnitude. She
felt positively light-headed with relief, almost dizzy.

'Well, yes-okay, Johnny,' she agreed gratefully.

'Great.' Johnny looked at his watch, announcing, 'Lord, is that the
time? I've got to go. His name's Andrew Walker, by the way.'

She hadn't finished her champagne, but she put her glass on the tray as
the waiter went past, absent-mindedly picking up a fresh glass and
wincing slightly as she did so. She knew she shouldn't have worn these
high heels. Shoes were Julia's thing, not hers, and she had only been
persuaded into buying the strappy sandals with their far too high thin
heels because they were the perfect shade of cornflower-blue to wear
with one of her favourite dresses.

Unfortunately, though, they were not parquet-floor-friendly-especially
when that floor had been polished in the old-fashioned way and was as
slippery as an ice rink.

She looked round the room, but she couldn't see either

her parents or her brother, and she was just wondering if she could make
her own escape when suddenly Marcus was standing in front of her,
announcing grimly, 'Don't you think you've had enough?'

Enough of what? Lucy wanted to ask him. Enough of loving you? Enough of
wanting you and aching for you? Enough of dreaming of you whilst the man
I married because I couldn't have you slept in bed beside me ? Enough of
knowing that you are never ever going to love me? Oh, yes, she'd had
enough of that.

'Actually, Marcus, no-I don't.' The familiar pain was back, and it was
intensifying with every second she had to spend in his company. It
seared her and drove her, maddening her with its agonising ache so that
she barely knew what she was saying.

Marcus was looking at her with familiar contempt and irritation. Lucy
gasped in dismay as someone standing behind her accidentally bumped into
her. The combined vertiginous effects of stilettos and Marcus-induced
heartache was definitely not good for one's balance, Lucy thought
miserably, as Marcus gripped her arm firmly to steady her.

'Just how much champagne have you had?' Marcus demanded grimly.

'Not enough,' Lucy answered, with a flippancy she didn't feel.

Marcus was looking at her with a blend of irritation and impatience.
'You can hardly stand,' he told her critically.

'So what?' Lucy tossed her head. She was defying Marcus-baiting him, in
fact! What on earth was happening to her? She was winding him up, and
pushing her luck as she did so. She knew that, but somehow she couldn't
help herself. Somehow she needed to see that look of angry irritation
mixed with contempt in his eyes just to remind herself of the futility
of dreaming impossible dreams.

26

'Actually, I rather think I'd like some more champagne. I'm celebrating,
you see,' she heard herself telling him, uncharacteristically and
recklessly emptying her glass before he could remove it and then looking
round for the waiter with what she didn't realise was champagne-induced
vagueness. Her lips did feel slightly numb, it was true, but then so did
her toes, and they hadn't had any contact whatsoever with the champagne,
had they?

'Celebrating what?' Marcus demanded tersely, his hold on her arm tightening.

'My miracle,' Lucy responded, forming the words very carefully.

She might have imagined it, but she thought Marcus actually swore
softly. 'The only miracle here is that you're still standing,' he muttered.

The waiter was almost level with her. She reached out to pick up a full
glass of champagne from the tray he was carrying, but Marcus got there
before she could lift the glass, the fingers of his free hand closing
hard on her own:

'Leave it where it is, Lucy,' he commanded her calmly.

'I'm thirsty,' Lucy protested. Thirsty for the nectar of his kiss,
thirsty for the feel of his mouth on her own, on her skin, everywhere,
whilst she drank in the taste of him. She looked at his hand, at his
long, strong fingers curled around her own. She wanted to put her other
hand on top of it, so that she could touch him. She wanted to lift his
hand to her mouth so that she could breathe in the scent of his skin as
she explored it with her lips and with her tongue. Longing burned
through her, leaping from nerve-ending to nerve-ending until she was
filled with it, possessed by it...

'I think it's time we left." The cool hardness of Marcus's voice chilled
her overheated thoughts.

'We?' she queried warily.

'Yes. We. I was just about to leave-and, unless you want the remainder
of your great-aunt's guests to witness the unedifying sight of you
sprawled on her parquet floor, I rather think you would be wise to leave
with me. In fact, I am going to insist on it.'

'You're my trustee, Marcus, not my guardian or my keeper.'

'Right now, I'm a man very close to the edge of his patience. And
besides, I need to talk to you about Pret a Party.'

Lucy stiffened defensively.

'If you're going to lecture me about Nick again-' she began, but Marcus
simply ignored her and continued as though she hadn't interrupted him.

'You may remember me mentioning some time ago that my sister Beatrice
wants to plan a surprise party for her husband's fiftieth birthday?'

'Yes,' Lucy agreed. Beatrice was Marcus's elder sister, and her husband
George was something very important in the mysterious highest echelons
of the civil service.

'I have to go and see Beatrice later this week, and she suggested that I
should take you along with me so that she can discuss her party with
you. I thought you might want to check your diary before we fix on a date.'

Lucy exhaled weakly. She was grateful to be given any business right
now-even if it meant having to spend time with Marcus in order to obtain it.

'I've got a fairly free week,' she responded, as nonchalantly as she
could. The truth was that she had a wholly free week; in fact the only
event she had coming up in the whole of the next month was a launch bash
for a sportswear manufacturer.

Somehow or other they had actually reached the door to the hallway,
where her great-aunt was already saying

28

goodbye to some of her other guests, and it was obvious that Marcus had
every intention of hauling her through it. If she dug in her heels,
would he literally drag her across the parquet?

'You're walking too fast,' she told him breathlessly, and then gave a
small startled 'oof of exhaled breath as he stopped so suddenly that she
cannoned straight into him.

She was standing body to body with Marcus, and he had one hand on her
arm whilst his other was pressed into the small of her back. She could
smell the faint lemony scent of his cologne, mixed with warm man scent.
Suddenly the back of her throat prickled treacherously with tears. How
many hours had she wasted after she had first smelled it on him haunting
the men's toiletries departments of upmarket stores? Sniffing and
testing and searching, hoping that she might recognise it and find out
just what it was he wore, so that she could buy some and put a little on
her pillows, so that she could wear it herself if necessary- anything
just to be able to feel closer to him. But she had never discovered what
it was.

Body to body with Marcus. If only by some miracle he would draw her
closer now, and bend his head and cover her mouth with his-if only, if
only...

'Marcus, dear boy-so good of you to come. And Lucy...'

Lucy could feel her face burning as Marcus stepped back from her but
still continued to hold on to her arm.

The almost flirtatious warmth of her voice as her great-aunt had greeted
Marcus chilled quite distinctly over her own name. Lucy noticed
cynically. Was there any woman on the surface of the earth who was
immune to Marcus's personal brand of male charm?

'A truly delightful occasion, Alice. Thank you for inviting me.'

'My dear boy, how could I not? After all, your family have been taking
care of our family's financial affairs since before the Peninsular War.
Of course there should have been food, but I'm afraid Lucy rather let me
down there.'

Lucy gasped in outrage.

'That- Ouch!' she protested as Marcus trod on her toes, then hustled her
out into the street-just as though she were a prisoner under armed
guard, Lucy decided indignantly.

'You do realise that you stood on my toes, don't you?' she objected, as
she breathed in the familiar scent of the sun-warmed city.

'Better my foot on your toes than your foot in your own mouth, don't you
think?' Marcus suggested.

It took Lucy several seconds to recognise what he was saying, but once
she had she glowered indignantly and told him, 'It was Great-Aunt Alice
herself who decided not to have any food. It was nothing to do with me.'

'You amaze me sometimes, you know, Lucy,' Marcus told her grimly. 'Has
no one ever told you that a little tact goes a long way towards oiling
the wheels of business and reputation?'

'You're a fine one to talk! You never bother using tact when you talk to
me, do you?'

'Some situations call for stronger measures,' Marcus answered grimly.

'If you mean my marriage-' Lucy began hotly, and then stopped.

Her marriage was just not something she felt safe discussing with
Marcus. The last thing she wanted was to have him probing into the whys
and wherefores of her relationship with Nick. There was no point in
allowing herself to be drawn into an argument she already knew she

was not going to win.

30

'You can let go of me now. Marcus,' Lucy hissed valiantly several
seconds later, when he was still holding on to her. But Marcus ignored
her, keeping a firm grip on her arm as he flagged down a taxi and then
opened the door for her, almost pushing her inside it. Lucy resentfully
moved as far away from him as she could as he sat down beside her.

'Where to, guv?" the taxi driver demanded.

'Wendover Square. Number twenty-one.'

'Arncott Street."

They had both spoken together.

'Make yer mind up,' the cabbie complained.

'Wendover Square,' Marcus repeated, before Lucy could speak, leaving her
to glower angrily at him.

'It would have been easier if he'd dropped me off first, Marcus."

'I want to talk to you,' Marcus told her coolly.

'So talk,' she said recklessly.

"In private,' Marcus informed her in a very gritty voice.

The taxi driver was turning into Wendover Square, its elegant Georgian
houses overlooking one of London's most attractive private squares.

Marcus's house-the same house his grandfather and his great-grandfather
had lived in, in fact all his ancestors right back to the Carring who
had first begun the bank in the days of the Peninsular War-had just
about the best position in the whole square. Four storeys high and
double fronted, with a proper back garden, it was a true family house,
and Lucy could see how impressed the cabbie was as he pulled up outside
it and unlocked the door for them.

'I do hope that whatever you want to say to me isn't going to take too
long, Marcus.' Lucy was trying to sound as businesslike as possible-a
difficult task when suddenly, for no discernible reason, her tongue
seemed to be

slipping and sliding over her words, and the motion of the taxi had made
her feel very dizzy indeed.

'No Mrs Crabtree?' she managed to articulate, when Marcus opened the
door and there was no sign of his housekeeper. As Lucy knew, the woman
treated her employer as though he were at the very most one step down
from god status.

'She's gone to stay with her daughter, to help look after her new baby.'

'Oh!' Lucy gave an exclamation of surprise as she semi-stumbled in the
hallway.

'I told you you'd had too much to drink,' Marcus said grimly. 'And
you're certainly in no fit state to go anywhere on your own.'

His accusation stung-and all the more so because it was just not true.
She didn't drink! But before she could say so, he was continuing curtly,
'You're out of touch, Lucy. The tipsy, thirty-something, Bridget
Jones-type female is over. The in thing now is the committed working
mother with two children and a husband-and if you don't believe me take
a look at your own friends. Carly and Julia are both married now, and
both mothers.'

As though she needed reminding of that! Lucy thought miserably.

'I am not thirty-anything,' she told him crossly instead. 'And, just in
case you had forgotten, I've been married.'

'Forgotten? How the hell could anyone forget that?'

'And I have not had too much to drink,' Lucy added forcefully.

The look Marcus gave her made her whole body burn, never mind just her face.

'No? Well, all I can say is that if this is the state you were in when
Nick Blayne picked you up, it's no wonder-'

32

'It's no wonder what?' Lucy stopped him. 'No wonder that I went to bed
with him? Well, for your information, I went to bed with him because-'

'Spare me your reminiscences about how much you loved him, Lucy,' Marcus
told her flatly. 'Blayne saw you coming and took advantage of
you-financially, emotionally, and for all I know sexually as well. He
used you, Lucy, and you let him. Couldn't you see what he was?' he
demanded in exasperation. 'I should have thought even a sixteen-year-old
virgin could have recognised that the man was a user.'

'Sixteen-year-old virgins probably have better eyesight than twenty-plus
unmarrieds,' Lucy retaliated flippantly. How many times had she used
flippancy as her defence against the powerful blasts of Marcus's
irritated broadsides? Surety more than enough to know how much they
increased his ire. But what else could she do? Without her protective
shield of nonchalance she might just break down into a sobbing wreck of
pleading female misery, and he would like that, even less!

'I loved Nick,' she lied wildly.

'Did you? Or did you just want to go to bed with him?'

'A girl doesn't have to marry a man in order to have sex with him these
days, Marcus. She doesn't even have to love him. All she needs to do is
simply do it.'

She could see the contempt flashing through his eyes as he looked at her.

"Have you any idea just how provocative that statement is? Or how
vulnerable you are?'

Lucy stared at him. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean that right now any man could get you into his bed.'

That was so not true!'

'No? Want me to prove it to you?'

'You couldn't,' Lucy objected recklessly.

'No?'

He reached for her so suddenly that she didn't even have time to think
about evading him, never mind actually do so. One minute she was
standing in his hallway, the next she was in Marcus's arms, held
securely against him. His mouth came down on her own, hard and sure, hot
with male pride and anger, and he took her half-parted lips in a
victor's kiss. And she didn't care, she didn't care one little bit. A
feeling far more potent than the bubbles from a thousand bottles of
champagne hit her emotions. He was kissing her. Marcus was kissing her.

Marcus was kissing her.

Marcus was kissing her!

35

'Oh. Mmm. Oh...' Greedily Lucy clung, both to the sensation and to the
man delivering it, reaching up to wrap her arms tightly around Marcus's
neck as she caved in to her own need. She had wanted him too much and
for too long to resist this...this miracle of miracles, she decided
headily, and she moved even closer to him, trying to ease the ache deep
inside her body by arching into him and moving her body against his.

'Oh, Marcus...' she sighed ecstatically, as she felt the unmistakable
surge of his erection pressing into her.

'Lucy...no!' He pushed her sharply away.

Bereft and stunned, she stared reproachfully at him.

'You see, this is exactly the kind of situation I've brought you here to
avoid,' he told her brusquely. 'If I'd let you make your own way home-'

'But what if I don't want to avoid it?' Lucy demanded provocatively.
'What if I want...' What on earth was she saying? Another minute and
she'd be telling Marcus that this was what she had been dreaming from
the first time she had stood opposite him in his office. Dreaming of,
lusting after, longing for...

'Never mind what you want,' Marcus told her acerbically. 'What you need
right now is to sleep off that champagne.'

Reddening and humiliated, Lucy started to walk towards the door. 'Well,
in that case I'd better go home, then, hadn't I?' she said petulantly.
The truth was that, whilst she wasn't drunk, the glass and a half of
champagne she'd

had was a whole glass more than she normally had to drink-on an empty
stomach, too. And there was no doubt that the combined effect of
Marcus's presence, the privacy of his house, plus the intensity of her
feelings for him were all working together to make her want to put into
practice the feverish lust-filled desires she had kept hidden for so
very long. However, dizzy with lust and longing though she was, she was
still in control enough to recognise that the best place for her right
now was somewhere with a comfortable bed and no Marcus.

"No way.' Marcus stopped her. 'You can sleep it off here. Come on-this way."

He had turned her round and was practically frogmarching her up the
stairs. Lucy recognised wrathfully. She tried to pull away from him, and
to her chagrin overbalanced on her spindly heels.

'Right-that's it,' Marcus announced, swinging her "up into his arms
before she could stop him as he climbed the last couple of stairs.

With her face buried against his shoulder, and her hand splayed out
across his shirt, perfectly able to feel the crisp male hair beneath it,
Lucy felt as though she had suddenly become a sort of sexual Lucy in
Wonderland, fallen into a magical fantasy world.

Still carrying her, Marcus strode down the landing and in true Hollywood
hero fashion pushed open a bedroom floor with one highly polished shoe.
How typical of Marcus that he would wear such traditional-looking shoes.
Lucy acknowledged, whilst her stomach muscles cramped in pleasure at the
exciting discovery that said shoes looked rather bigger than those worn
by her unmourned ex-husband. They must be at least, a size eleven, maybe
even larger...

The room they were in was obviously a guest room.

36

pristinely neat and decorated in a rather old-fashioned and very
unadventurous mix of traditional chintz and heavy inherited family
furniture.

Not that Lucy had very much inclination to study the furniture-not when
Marcus was sliding her down his body in such a delicious and
delirium-inducing way. Sliding her down his body and trying to step back
from her, she recognised. But she wasn't going to let him.

The shock of her own thoughts was a powerful adrenaline surge, filling
her with a determination that was turning her into someone she hardly
recognised. Someone who was demanding to know why she should not have
what she wanted; why she should not do as others did and simply take
what she wanted. Why she should not for once in her life simply put
herself and her own needs first.

She had never experienced anything so alluringly tempting, so
wonderfully empowering, so overwhelming irresistible. Why should she try
to resist it? Why shouldn't she seize this opportunity? Why shouldn't
she allow herself to seduce Marcus into taking her to bed? Why shouldn't
she do what other women did all the time instead of denying herself what
she so desperately wanted? Why should she always be the one to go
without? Why shouldn't she allow herself this one night?

And tomorrow? When she had to face Marcus's anger and rejection?

But this wasn't tomorrow. It was today. It was here and now. She was
already dealing with Marcus's rejection and had been for years. Why
shouldn't she sweeten it with the kind of memories that would burn
within the shrine of her most secret places for ever?

'Marcus... Marcus...' she whispered fiercely against his lips, and she
lifted her mouth to his, wriggling as close to him as she could,
oblivious to the fact that her movements

had caused the press-studs fastening her fragile silk dress to pop open
until she felt the unwanted presence of its small cap sleeves halfway
down her arms.

The unwanted intrusion of her dress and its unfamiliarly draped sleeves
was easily dealt with. She simply dropped her arms and let it slide down
to the floor, to pool round her feet, then stepped out of it. Thus
freed, she lifted her arms and wrapped them tightly round Marcus's neck,
standing in only one shoe, a thin silk camisole and matching
fluted-legged brief French knickers. Ridiculously, perhaps, one of the
first things she had done after Nick's betrayal and their subsequent
divorce was to go inside the Agent Provocateur shop she walked past most
days on her way to her office and treat herself to the kind of underwear
that every sensual woman had a right to enjoy-even if her husband had
labelled her as sexless.

Marcus was trying to say something to her. she realised, as she rubbed
her nose against the bare flesh of his throat with open sensual
pleasure, breathing in the scent of him. And she could feel his fingers
biting into the soft skin of her upper arms, too. But she was too lost
in the sheer wonder of the moment, and what was happening, to pay any
attention to what he might be trying to say. Why speak, after all, when
they could be doing this? Lucy decided giddily in adrenaline- and
love-fuelled need, as she created around herself the familiar fantasy
that had comforted her Marcus-deprived body for so long. The fantasy in
which Marcus just could not resist her and didn't even want to. Poor
Marcus. He was probably dreadfully uncomfortable in all those
clothes-that tie, that buttoned-up shirt-surely it behoved her to aid
him with their removal?

She tried for the tie first, her tongue-tip pressed firmly against her
teeth as she worked at the knot with eager fingers.

38

'Lucy!'

'Mmm?' She had worn a tie at school, as part of her uniform, so surely
unknotting this one...?

'Lucy...' Marcus's hands covered her own. Lucy looked up at him and gave
him an approving smile. Obviously he shared her own eagerness for him to
be rid of his clothes and wanted to help her. She intended to say as
much to him, but suddenly she became distracted as she looked at his
mouth, and then she couldn't look away again.

'Marcus.' She whispered his name in dizzy delight as she looked at it
and longed for it, touching her own tongue to her lips as her eyes
darkened with the heat of her own hunger for him.

Reaching up, she pressed her mouth tenderly against his. His lips felt
firm and strong, his flesh sensuously distracting and hunger-inducing as
she breathed tiny kisses against it, little nibbles that grew bolder as
each taste fuelled her need for more. Marcus's hands left her arms and
gripped her waist.

It was nice to be held so tightly, she acknowledged, but it would be
even nicer if he were to touch her breast. So much easier, surely, for
her to simply take his hand and place it against the warm swell of her
own flesh beneath the thin silk of her cami and hold it there whilst her
tongue darted excitedly against the closed line of his mouth, begging
for entrance to the pleasures that lay beyond them...

'Lucy!'

What was Marcus doing? He couldn't be pushing her away. Frantically she
reached out to him, then lost her balance and started to fall backwards
onto the bed behind her.

Immediately Marcus made a grab for her, but it was too late, and somehow
or other she was lying on the bed, with Marcus on top of her. The full
weight of his body was

pressing her down into the mattress and it felt so good. In fact it
felt, he felt like heaven...like everything good she had ever
experienced in the whole of her life, only ten times more than that. She
exhaled in delighted bliss and wrapped her arms tightly round his neck,
pressing her mouth against his, her lips parted invitingly.

She heard Marcus make a thick muffled sound. Surely not a groan? And
then his hands were in her hair, his fingers hard and warm against her
scalp as he held her head in sensual imprisonment and his mouth moved on
hers.

Had she imagined she knew what a kiss was? She had known nothing-less
than nothing, Lucy admitted, as the emotional champagne bubbles of
delight and disbelief exploded inside her and raced along her veins into
every part of her body. Most especially to those bits of her body that
were particularly receptive to the kind of pleasure Marcus was giving
her. Even her toes were curling, in a silent exclamation of thrilled awe.

So this was what it felt like to be truly aroused by and responsive to a
man. No wonder in times gone by mothers of impressionable daughters had
guarded them so ferociously. Already she was hooked on what Marcus was
giving her; already she wanted and needed more. His tongue-tip teased
the sensitivity of her lips with small, almost whip-like tormenting
caresses before suddenly hardening and thrusting deep into her mouth,
not just once but repeatedly, until her whole body was shuddering in
rhythmic response to those thrusts.

Dizzily Lucy reflected that she'd asked for one miracle but had actually
got two! Was that how it worked with this miracle thing? Once you had
tuned in to miracles, so to speak, did they just keep on coming? Little
miracles Popping up here, there and everywhere?

40

'Oh, I do so hope there will be more,' she whispered ecstatically as
Marcus released her mouth.

'What?' he demanded, looking down at her, all blazing impatience and
irritation and lethal male desire.

'More,' she repeated sweetly, giving him a beatific smile. 'I would like
more, Marcus. Much more,' she emphasised.

'You want more?' he repeated.

Why was he looking at her like that? As though he couldn't believe what
he was hearing? As though the hard pulse of his erection didn't exist?

Lucy wasn't going to let herself be dragged out of her fantasy.

'Oh, yes,' she agreed. Now that he had kissed her, and she had tasted
him, her body was so fixated on him that it would probably mount an
all-out rebellion if it was denied him now. She wanted him and she was
going to have him, she decided firmly. She deserved to have him.

'It's been such a long time, you see,' she told him. And it had. Such a
very, very long time since she had first looked at him and wanted him.
And now here was her very own personal miracle, making it possible for
her to have him. So of course she wanted more of them-and of him, too.
But right now she didn't have time to explain all of that to him because
right now...right now she had far more important and exciting things she
wanted to do.

She looked up into his eyes and then gave in to the temptation to stroke
her tongue-tip along the line of his throat. She heard him groan, felt
him shudder, and then his hands were on her body, as she had so much
longed for them to be, cupping her breasts whilst she tugged off his tie
and her fingers worked busily to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. The
pads of his thumbs were stroking her erect nipples, working the silk of
her camisole against

them until she moaned in helpless delight at the effect his deliberate
stroking of the fine silk against her sensitive flesh was having on her.

But she got her own back. She had unfastened his shirt and was free to
slide her hands inside it, palms flat against the hard muscle of his
chest. She lifted her head and kissed his collarbone, stringing tiny
kisses together in mute arousal. His fingers plucked erotically at one
nipple whilst her own urgent movements brought the other free of her
cami. She flicked her tongue-tip urgently against the small stone
hardness of Marcus's flat male nipples, tasting first one and then the
other, tormenting herself with the knowledge of the pleasure that lay
ahead of her when she allowed her hands and her mouth to move down over
his body.

Marcus bent his head and kissed her throat. His fingertip traced the
shape of her ear whilst his teeth nibbled gently on her lobe, and then
his mouth caressed the flesh just behind it. A spasm of intense pleasure
and longing shot through her, and she arched her back to bring her
breast fully into his hand, a small, keening moan bubbling in her
throat. Her toes curled, and automatically she opened her legs in eager
supplication.

Against her body she could feel the erect heat and hardness of Marcus's
own arousal, whilst what he was doing to that tiny spot of flesh was
practically bringing her to the point of orgasm all by itself.

more alluring.

18-11-07, 07:53 PM

المشاركة رقم: 88

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
اللقب:

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jun 2006
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter Three

ChapterThree

She felt as though a magical cord was somehow stretched from her breast
to her belly, and that what Marcus was doing to her was tightening it to
the point where she wanted to scream with urgent longing for him to do
more, to take her further, deeper.

'Marcus, I'm going to come,' she protested thickly. But instead of
heeding her warning and removing his clothes, so that he could slide
into her, he lifted his head and looked steadily at her whilst his
fingers moved more purposefully over her. Over her and into her.
Stroking her, teasing her, until she was so hot, and so wet, and so
wanting...

'I'm not coming until you're inside me,' she told him, panting out the
words as she struggled to hold back her orgasm, her fingers closing over
him through the fabric of his clothes and her body shuddering violently
in excitement as she realised how thick and strong he actually was.

He undressed with speedy efficiency, scarcely giving her time to enjoy
the pleasure of looking at his naked body-Then he undressed her as well,
and then positioned himself between her welcoming, eager thighs.

'Missionary position?' she huffed, pulling a small face.

"It's all we've got time for if you want me inside you when we come.'
Marcus told her rawly, before bending his head to kiss her naked breasts
in turn whilst he rubbed the hard hot head of his erection against her
clitoris until

she called out frantically to him, begging him to satisfy her.

Lucy felt her orgasm seize her in its seismic grip with his third
thrust, her muscles fastening round him to hold and caress him, to draw
from him the sharp, sweet juice of life itself.

She knew the moment she opened her eyes that she wasn't in her own bed.
But it was several seconds before she realised just whose bed she was
in-or rather whose bedroom, since the room she was in was obviously a
guest room. Marcus's guest room. In Marcus's Wendover Square house.

She gave a small despairing groan as the events of the previous
afternoon and evening formed images inside her head-images she was
forced to view without the protection of her earlier adrenaline-induced
armour.

What on earth had possessed her to behave like that? Granted, she loved
Marcus, and always would love him, but last night she had... She
swallowed uncomfortably whilst her whole body burned in the flames of
her own shocking memories.

She looked at her watch. Ten a.m.

She shot upright in the bed. It couldn't possibly be! She'd always woken
up at seven at the very latest-always. Even on her honeymoon.

But last night with Marcus she'd had the kind of sex, the quality of sex
that she most definitely had not had with Nick-either on her honeymoon
or at any other time.

Marcus? Where was he? She hauled up the duvet, holding it to cover her
naked breasts, even though some sixth sense told her that the house was
a Marcus-free zone. Her clothes, which she could blush-makingly remember
abandoning all over the place, had been thoughtfully retrieved

44

and neatly folded-although she couldn't see her knickers-and there was
an envelope propped up on the tallboy with her name written across it in
Marcus's imperious hand. Keeping the duvet wrapped around herself, she
got out of bed and padded over to the tallboy. Inside the envelope was a
piece of paper on which Marcus had written economically.

Your underwear is in the dryer. Don't leave without having some
breakfast-coffee, fruit, cereal, etc, in cupboards and fridge. Will be
in touch this p.m. re visit to Beatrice.

Her knickers were in the dryer! How domestic, how authoritarian-how Marcus.

And how lovely to know they would be clean. If she had one tiny little
hang-up, it was that she was almost too neat and tidy-and everything
that went with that, Lucy admitted as she hurried into the bathroom. But
then boarding school did that to a person, she reflected, as she stood
beneath the *******ing sting of the shower, lathering her skin and her hair.

The decor in Marcus's house might be slightly old-fashioned, but the
guest bathroom was well stocked with everything that an overnight
visitor minus her sponge bag might need. Lucy smiled approvingly when
she found a new toothbrush as well as toothpaste in the basket beside
the basin, along with a new comb, a small unopened jar of face cream and
even deodorant.

Fortunately her hair was naturally straight, so she had no need to do
anything other than wash and comb it, knowing that by the time she
reached her office it would have dried. And even more fortunately, given
the time and the

fact that she had a considerable amount of paperwork to attend to, she
could go straight there and change into a pair of jeans once she got
there. She always kept several changes of clothes there, just in case.

Her head had begun to ache unpleasantly-a combination of anxiety about
what Marcus might be likely to say to her about last night and lack of
caffeine, Lucy decided as she made her way downstairs in her silk dress
but minus her stiletto shoes.

Marcus's kitchen was, of course, immaculate. Having retrieved her
underwear from the laundry room and quickly put it on-no matter how
saucy it might be, she simply was not a 'no knickers' girl, Lucy decided
firmly- she hurried into the kitchen, desperately in need of a very
strong cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later, after going through every cupboard and finding only
decaf, she was forced to admit that there was an unbridgeable gap
between her idea of what constituted a proper breakfast drink and Marcus's.

Decaf. She screwed up her nose in distaste as she made herself a cup and
munched half-heartedly on a banana.

Those butterflies in her stomach weren't there just because she needed
her caffeine fix. They were there because last night she had seduced
Marcus. Because she had thrown herself at him-and onto him. Her face
started to burn, and not just with the guilty embarrassment she ought to
be feeling. Her mental self might feel guilt and shame and be dreading
having to face Marcus, but her physical self was positively crowing with
delight, reliving with relish every single intimate caress and kiss. It
certainly had no intention of feeling any kind of shame whatsoever.

But what about her emotional self? Lucy wondered sadly as she let
herself out of the house, carefully checking the door had locked behind
her before setting off to

46

walk the short distance to her Sloane Street office. Her emotional self
was caught between the two opposing forces of her mind and her body. Her
emotional self loved Marcus and yearned for him to love her back. Her
mental self said that it was simply not possible, and warned her of the
pain and humiliation she was coursing. Her physical self, on the other
hand, was still wallowing in the triumphant afterglow of sex with a
lover who had elevated the experience to a plane hitherto unknown to her
other than via fevered fantasies and lustful daydreams.

Add to all of that the fact that the thought of seeing Marcus again was
making her feel physically sick with apprehension, and it was no wonder
her head was pounding. Lucy decided as she hurried into the coffee shop
she regularly used to obtain her daytime caffeine fix. To her relief she
was the only customer.

'Your usual?' the girl behind the counter asked cheerfully.

'Please, Sarah-no, make that two,' Lucy told her. 'And a couple of
chocolate brownies as well."

Sarah gave her a wicked grin.

'Caffeine and carbs? It must have been a good night last night.'

The best-at least what I can remember of it,' Lucy agreed, rolling her
eyes and grinning back. But the truth was that the first bit of her
light-hearted response to Sarah's teasing was exactly that- -the truth.
It had been the best-and was likely to remain so, she reminded herself
grimly as she gathered up her double espressos and her brownies and
stepped back into the late-morning sunshine.

Marcus would certainly not want a rerun, and now that she had had her
fantasies come to life-now that she knew just how far short they had
fallen of the reality of the heaven of Marcus's arms around her.
Marcus's mouth on

hers, Marcus's lovemaking-she was going to have to spend the rest of her
life not just knowing she could never love anyone else but also knowing
that she was never going to want to have sex with anyone else.

It was a miserable thing to have to admit to herself as she hurried into
the building that housed Pret a Party's offices, pausing to exchange
smiles with Harry the doorman as she did so.

Once, Pret a Party's offices had been filled with the busy hum of
telephones ringing, clients calling, the laughter of her two best
friends and partners. But now they were empty and silent. Kicking the
door closed as she balanced her coffee, Lucy fought the temptation not
to think about how Marcus had kicked the bedroom door open last
night-and what had happened after he had.

Five minutes later, her dress exchanged for a tee shirt and a pair of
jeans, and her French knickers carefully parcelled up to be rewashed and
kept as a very personal souvenir, Lucy savoured the last delicious gulp
of coffee whilst she scrolled down her e-mails.

No new requests for Pret a Party's services, she saw gloomily. The only
commission she had pending was the sportswear manufacturer's launch of a
new football boot, which was to be held at a very trendy nightclub of
the type favoured by TV celebs, models, premier league footballers and
the like.

Everything was already in place for the launch, but while she drank her
second coffee Lucy brought up the worksheets for it to check them over.

She had based the whole event on the manufacturer's logo and colours,
playing on a 'team event' theme, since they were launching a football
boot. Cheerleaders dressed in a highly-sexed version of a football strip
would provide the main entertainment by chanting the client's name, a

48

new cocktail was going to be served, and Lucy had decided that the food
was going to be miniature portions of that favourite laddish treat-curry
and chips in a plastic carton.

When her telephone suddenly rang she stared at it apprehensively.
Marcus, it had to be! She picked up the receiver and flicked her tongue
nervously over her dry lips.

'May I speak to the Honourable Lucy Blayne, please?'

How was it possible for her heart to sink with relief? Lucy wondered, as
she corrected her caller discreetly by responding. 'Lucy Cardrew speaking.*

'Oh, hi. It's Andrew Walker here-your cousin Johnny...'

Andrew Walker. The miracle who might be going to save Pret a Party and
what was left of her trust fund.

'Oh, yes-of course!'

"Look, I know it's short notice, but I'm going to be out of the country
from tomorrow, so I wondered if there was any chance that you might be
free for lunch today so that we could talk things over and set the ball
rolling, so to speak."

Lucy looked at her watch. It was gone twelve now.

'I could make a late lunch at half one?' she suggested.

'Great. Is the Brasserie in Pont Street okay for you?'

'Perfect,' Lucy confirmed. Pont Street was virtually round the corner
from her office, and the Brasserie was one of her favourite eateries.

'Excellent. I'll see you there at one-thirty, then."

Replacing the receiver, Lucy looked down at her jeans. She would have to
change them for something more suitable for a business lunch. The Armani
suit, probably-referred to by her friends as 'the armour', because Lucy
invariably wore it whenever she had a business meeting to attend. And
always when she went to see Marcus to ask him to release more money from
her trust fund.

49

At dead on one-thirty, fortified by two more cups of espresso and
armoured with the Armani, Lucy fought her way past the untidy jumble of
camera-toting, motorbike-riding paparazzi clustered boldly outside the
Brasserie, waiting for its celeb diners to arrive and leave, and pushed
open the door. She was immediately greeted with a welcoming smile from
the receptionist, who recognised her.

'I'm having lunch with a Mr Walker-Andrew Walker?'

'Mr Walker is already here and waiting at the table,' the mattre d'
informed her.

'Oh, Angelo, you're back! How lovely. Did you have a wonderful time in
Sydney with your son and grandchildren?' Lucy asked warmly.

'That boy-he is doing so well. He has his own restaurant now,' Angelo
informed her proudly as he escorted her past the other tables to one set
discreetly out of earshot of the others.

The man seated there stood up as she approached, extending his hand.
'Andrew Walker,' he introduced himself, and Lucy shook it and sat down.

'Hello Andrew-Lucy Cardvew."

He was a middle-aged man of middle height with an unremarkable face. He
was smartly if somewhat formally dressed, in a suit that-like those
Marcus wore-had obviously come from a bespoke tailor. The shirt had all
the hallmarks of its Jermyn Street origins, and his shoes were handmade
too. but whereas Marcus always looked completely at home and at ease in
the formality of his dark

50

business suits and handmade shirts, Andrew Walker looked rather
uncomfortable in his clothes, and they in turn looked new and somewhat
alien to him.

As he signalled to the waiter he told Lucy, 'Your cousin will have
already mentioned to you that I may be interested in investing in your
business?'

'Yes,' Lucy acknowledged, thanking the waiter for the menu he was
handing her and shaking her head when Andrew asked her what wine she
would like.

'Just water for me,' she told the waiter firmly.

Andrew didn't resume talking about his plans until after they had been
served with their food, and even then he kept his voice low and
conspiratorial as he leaned across the table to tell her firmly, 'I must
stress that at this stage it is imperative that you don't discuss my
approach to you with anyone else.'

'But my solicitor will have to know, surely?' Lucy protested.

'Ultimately, perhaps. Although I would prefer it if my own solicitor
drew up all the necessary agreements first.' He gave a small shrug. 'I
have discovered that the success of my existing business has resulted in
other people becoming very keen to find out what my future financial
moves will be. Any market can only sustain a certain amount of business.
How much business do you have in hand at the moment?'

'Very little,' Lucy told him honestly. 'I expect you know about the
financial problems the business has had to face following my divorce?'

'Of course.'

'I've got a big event coming up next month-the launch of a new football
boot-'

'And that kind of business is profitable?'

'Corporate business is hugely profitable compared with

private business.' Lucy explained. 'When I'm asked to organise an event
where the client wants access to my address book, in order to ensure
that they have enough A-list celebs at the event to assure them of
maximum press coverage, I can charge more than when I am organising a
private event, where the guest fist is supplied by the person giving the
event. Obviously any kind of launch is an event when the attendance of
the right kind of high-profile celebrities is a must. For this event,
for instance, the client is guaranteeing the attendance of the premier
league football star who is the face of their brand, and I have sent
invitations to everyone in my address book who is guaranteed to bring
the press to the event."

"Everyone" being...?'

Lucy gave a small shrug. 'Certain top-rank models and soap stars-the top
names, not the Sand Cisi-a smattering of It Girl-types and rock star
offspring, plus some of the more sociable dot-com millionaires. People
who are glamorous and newsworthy, kind who will add lustre to the event.'

'I see... So I take it that much of Pret a Party's market value lies in
its address book?"

'In some ways,' Lucy agreed.

'When it comes to organising food and drink, venues, flowers, that kind
of thing, who is responsible for choosing who will supply those?"

'Pret a Party,' Lucy told him promptly. 'I'm very strict about who I do
and don't use. Pret a Party's reputation has keen built on the quality
of everything we provide-and that includes the ancillary services we
use. whether they uro marquees or food.'

Mmm. Have you ever thought about selling the Pret a Party concept as a
franchise?"

'No.'

52

'Well, that is one of the areas I am very interested in us looking into
as business partners. It will be expensive to start with, of course,
until the franchisee revenue starts to come in. But what I have in mind
is to use the contacts I have already made via my turnkey business to
build up our own ancillary service agencies-so that we can supply our
franchisees with everything they need and the Pret a Party guarantee of
quality. We buy our own marquees and we provide the men to erect them.
We supply the waiters, the glasses and the drinks. We provide the
florists and the musicians and the cleaning staff-in fact, we supply
everything and anything else our franchisees and their clients may need.'

Lucy stared at him, her food forgotten. That's brilliant,' she told him,
her eyes shining. 'But it will cost a fortune...'

'Indeed it will. But I think the eventual return will make it a
worthwhile investment.'

Lucy didn't know what to say. The most she had been hoping for had been
an injection of capital to refloat the business so that she could build
it up again, but what Andrew Walker was talking about so
matter-of-factly was the creation of a whole business empire.

'As I've already said, I would like your assurance that what we are
discussing is kept strictly between the two of us at this stage.'

Lucy nodded her head.

'I'd like to get things moving as quickly as possible, but obviously
you're going to need time to think over my proposal. How would you feel
about us meeting up again when I get back from this trip?'

'That...That sounds fine,' Lucy managed to tell him, as she fought to
sound businesslike and professional rather than giddy with the delight
and relief she was actually feeling.

'Here's my card,' Andrew Walker told her. 'I have just bought a new
property in Holland Park. It's in the course of being renovated at the
moment, but once the renovations are finished I intend to throw a large
party there for my friends and my business contacts. If all goes as I
hope it will, that event will be organised by Pret a Party, and will be
a means of introducing our new joint venture to everyone.'

'Brilliant,' Lucy repeated, and meant it.

It was three o'clock before Lucy got back to her office, her head
buzzing with excited thoughts and plans. She could scarcely believe her
good luck, and all because Andrew had happened to see that spread about
Pret a Party in A-List Life,

The only down side to this wonderful piece of good luck was that she
wasn't going to be able to say anything about it to Marcus. Or at least
not just yet. It would be such a relief to know that she didn't have to
plead with him to change his mind and allow her to use what was left of"
her trust fund to clear Pret a Party's overdraft and give her some
much-needed working capital. She looked at the telephone. There was no
message from Marcus, despite the fact that he had said he would be in
touch with her. Had he changed his mind? Had he been thinking about last
night and decided that he simply never wanted to see her again, just in
case she tried to repeat her behaviour?

And if he did ring what was he likely to say?

She needed an espresso, Lucy decided.

Marcus frowned as he studied the view from his office window. His
father, grandfather, great-grandfather and all those who had gone before
them had occupied this office in their turn, and Marcus had known from
the moment he

54

had been old enough to know such things that one day he would have to
take over responsibility for the bank and its clients. His father's
death when Marcus had been only six years old had meant that Marcus had
been brought up by his mother and grandfather, who'd made sure that
Marcus was aware of how important the bank was, and the fact that he was
expected to dedicate his life to it. At twenty-one, fresh from
university, Marcus had resented that responsibility, and the way that
life had forced it on him, even while he had felt honour-bound to accept
it. His grandfather at nearly eighty had needed to be allowed to retire,
and he had a duty to take over from him.

And so he had put aside his dreams of travelling the world and focused
instead on doing what he had to do.

He was nearly six years older than Lucy, and the first time she had
walked into his office his feelings towards her had been a mixture of
irritation and impatience. Irritation because he'd had enough on his
plate without having to act as her trustee, and impatience because he
had seen in her eyes the dazed look of a young woman about to develop a
huge and unwanted crush on him.

Marcus did not consider himself to be vain. But he had had enough
relationships to know what the look Lucy had given him meant. He might
have had no choice other than to do what was expected of him and take
over the bank, but he had grimly and determinedly held on to what
independence he did have. Marriage, so far as he was concerned, was a
necessary evil he wanted to put off for as long as he could. One day,
yes, he would marry, and provide the bank with its future administrator,
but not yet And he certainly had no intention of ever allowing himself
to fall in love.

His mouth hardened. Marcus had seen at first hand the destruction
'falling in love' could cause. His own father

had fallen in love when Marcus was six, and he had left his
wife-Marcus's mother-abandoning her and his two children because of that
'love'. He had destroyed their family and left Marcus feeling betrayed
and bereft. And, since he had not been able to hate the father he had
loved so much, his six-year-old mind had turned its hatred on the
emotion that had caused him to leave instead.

Three weeks after he had left them Marcus's father had been killed in an
accident-along with his lover. Marcus had mourned him and promised
himself that he would never make the same mistake as his father. He
would never, ever allow himself to fall in love. Because of that he had
made sure that the women he dated, the women he slept with, were
sophisticated, slightly older than he was himself, often post-divorce
and pre-second marriage. Women who enjoyed sex and were socially aware,
women who understood the rules of the game as he chose to play it-women,
in short, who were the complete opposite of Lucy.

Over the years the initial irritation and impatience he had felt towards
Lucy had fused together to become a gut reaction which was activated
every time he saw her, and it had been intensified to the point where it
had been laced with incredulous disbelief and anger when she had married
Nick Blayne.

She was supposed to be an intelligent young woman. She must have been
able to see what Nick Blayne was. But she had obviously been too blinded
by 'love' to care. Love and lust, if the newspaper photographs he had
seen of her cavorting half naked with Blayne on the Caribbean island
where she had first met him were anything to go by.

Irritation, impatience, anger-and. if he was honest with himself,
perhaps a touch of guilt?

56

Guilt? What the hell did he have to feel guilty about? He hadn't been
responsible for her marrying Blayne, or the catastrophic events that had
followed. He had done everything within his power to stop Lucy
destroying her own financial security and allowing her now ex-husband to
plunder the trust fund, but she had refused to listen to him.

But, ridiculously, he did feel guilty. And for some reason that made him
feel even more intensely irritated and angry with Lucy.

He was, he reminded himself grimly, her trustee, and he was now
ruthlessly determined to protect what was left of her inheritance-from
Lucy herself, if that should prove necessary.

He was well aware that her original blushing, bashful self-consciousness
and virginal sexual curiosity about him had turned to resentment edged
with apprehension. He had made it clear to her that he was not going to
be persuaded into allowing her to remove what was left of her trust fund
to put into her ailing business, no matter how much pressure she put on
him to do so.

Pret a Party was suffering the natural death throes of a business ruined
by greed and mismanagement. The only thing that could save it now was a
massive injection of capital and a very firm hand grasping its control.
That had translated in Marcus's mind into his massive capital injection
and his firm hand, but whilst he could quite easily spare the money, he
could not spare the time to salvage the wreckage of Lucy's once
profitable business.

He had stood by and watched-first assessingly, then reluctantly and then
grudgingly admiringly-as she built up Pret a Party into a very nice
little business, even if she had continued to irritate him with her
almost aggressive

post-crush antagonism towards him and her refusal to listen to his advice.

But all that had been before last night! Taking Lucy to bed had been the
last thing on his mind when he had removed her from the party.

But he had done so. And now...

Marcus frowned heavily. He was almost thirty-five years old-an age by
which all his male ancestors had already been married and had fathered
the male heir who would ultimately take over the family bank. Since he
had never been in love, it was hard for Marcus to envisage what being
'in love' might feel like. His observations of love in others inclined
him to the view that he was better off not knowing. He had deliberately
chosen relationships which allowed him to avoid marriage, but at the
same time he had known that ultimately he must marry. And over this last
year he had become increasingly aware of his duty to the bank and to the
past. He needed a wife and he needed an heir.

Finding a wife would not be a problem, but finding the right kind of
wife-who would adapt to his way of life and understand the duties and
responsibilities it carried- could be one. Especially when the kind of
marriage he wanted was one based on practicality rather than emotion.
Especially when one considered his wish to father an heir.

It was time for him to find himself a woman. A woman with whom he was
both socially and sexually compatible. A woman, perhaps, like Lucy.

Lucy? Had he gone mad? She exasperated him as no other woman could, and
her marriage to Nick Blayne had only increased his impatient anger
towards her.

But last night she had enticed and aroused him as no other woman had.

The truth was that Lucy needed protecting from herself.

58

He would certainly be a far safer and more suitable husband for her than
another Nick Blayne. A marriage between them would benefit them both. He
needed a wife, and Lucy certainly needed a husband-if only to prevent
her from repeating the mistake she had made in marrying Blayne.

And Lucy loved children.

Actually, for them to marry one another was in many ways entirely
logical. She understood the world he lived in because it was also her
world. They both wanted children, and sexually he had sown all the wild
oats he wanted to sow-even if a part of him still mourned the loss of
his youthful dreams of travel and adventure.

His mind was made up, Marcus decided abruptly. He intended to marry
Lucy. And the sooner the better.

All he had to do now was find a way to convince her that she needed to
marry him. And Marcus thought he knew exactly how to do that.

The sensuality Lucy had displayed last night had surprised him, as had
the pleasurable intensity of her sexual response to him.. Lucy was a
woman with a warm sex drive, a woman currently without a sexual partner
in her life and quite dearly a woman who wanted one.

All he had to do was make her need work in his favour, Marcus decided
coolly. He walked over to his desk and picked up the telephone receiver.

The message light was flashing on her telephone when Lucy walked back
into the office. She had been longer at the coffee shop than she had
expected. Her heart slammed the length of her chest cavity before
skidding dangerously to a halt as she played the message and heard
Marcus's voice, telling her that he had arranged for them to visit his

sister and that he would pick her up from her office at four o'clock.

Four o'clock? It was ten to now, Lucy saw, panic-stricken.

Thirteen and a half minutes later she was on her way downstairs, her
hair combed, her lips glossed, and her heart thudding like a drum beat.
'There you are-come on. There's a traffic warden on the prowl and I
don't want to get a ticket.'

There was no time to object as Marcus took hold of her arm and hurried
over to the Bentley parked illegally outside the office block, opening
the passenger door for her so that she could scramble in whilst he
strode round to the driver's door.

The interior of the car smelled of leather and Marcus, and Lucy leaned
back in her seat and closed her eyes, breathing as slowly and carefully
as she could.

'Our flight leaves at six-which means you've just about got time to pack
if I drive you back to your flat now.'

'What? What flight? Where are we going?' Her eyes snapped open and she
lurched forward in her seat.

'To see Beatrice, of course,' Marcus told her patiently. 'Remember?
You're going to advise her about organising a party for George's fiftieth.'

'Your sister lives in Chelsea!' Lucy protested dizzily.

'Most of the time, yes. But she and George also have a villa in Majorca,
and that's where she is right now. She thought it would be a good idea
if you flew out to see her while she's there, so that she can discuss
George's party with you while he isn't around. She doesn't want him to
guess what's going on.'

Silently Lucy digested what he was saying to her. It was not
particularly unusual for clients to fly her out to all

60

manner of places, in order to consult her or to get her opinion of their
chosen venue for their event, but Marcus had said very clearly 'our
flight', which meant...

'You're going to Majorca as well?' she demanded.

'I have some family business I need to discuss with Beatrice, so she
suggested we might as well travel out together,' Marcus told her calmly.
'We'll be staying for a couple of days, so you'll need to pack a few
things.'

'And I'll have to get changed. I can't travel to Pahna wearing armour,'
Lucy protested.

'Armour?'

Lucy could feel herself going red at she recognised her slip-up.

'It's what I call my business suit,' she mumbled.

She could feel Marcus looking at her, but his only comment was a very
dry, 'Mmm."

18-11-07, 08:02 PM

المشاركة رقم: 89

المعلومات
الكاتب:	نيارااا
اللقب:

البيانات
التسجيل:	Jun 2006
العضوية:	7129
المشاركات:	287
الجنس	أنثى
معدل التقييم:
نقاط التقييم:	43

االدولة

مدونتي

الإتصالات
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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Marcus turned into Sloane Square and then cut through a couple of narrow
back streets before finally bringing the Bentley to a halt in a
conveniently empty parking space right outside the block of flats where
she lived.

'I'll come up with you.'

It was a statement, not a question or an offer.

Wasn't Marcus going to say anything about last night? She had been
dreading seeing him all day, worrying about what he would say and how
she could respond.

She had told herself that the worst-case scenario would be if he had
simply guessed the truth and challenged her with it. She had even
rehearsed the scene mentally inside her head to prepare herself.

Marcus would say: You're in love with me, aren't you? Lucy: What?
Certainly not. What on earth makes you think that I could be?

Marcus-in that horrid dry voice he could use to such dramatic effect:
Last night?

Lucy-breezily, looking amused and nonchalant: Oh, that! Good heavens,
no. I just fancied a shag, that's all.

But evidently that wasn't going to be how it happened.

Leaving Marcus to follow her, Lucy hurried past the concierge with a
quick 'hello' and then up the stairs. Her flat was on the first floor,
and tiny, but at least she owned it outright and it wasn't a drain on
her finances-unlike the much grander flat Nick had insisted on them
renting during their marriage.

She unlocked the door and walked into the small hallway. The enclosed
and windowless space had been made larger and brighter by the addition
of two non-matching mirrors she had 'borrowed' from the attics at home.
A small table, also rescued from attic oblivion, which she had painted
cream just like the walls, stood under one of the mirrors. On it Lucy
had arranged not flowers, since she believed that every living thing
needed natural light and proper fresh air, but instead her precious Jo
Malone scented candles and a collection of glass candlesticks. Would
Marcus notice the tasteful effect of the arrangement as he followed her
into the hallway?

Beyond the hallway lay a tiny sitting room, furnished and decorated in
various shades of cream, and pin-neat.

'Before I do anything else I'm going to make myself a cup of coffee,'
Lucy told Marcus. 'Would you like a cup?'

'No, thanks. We don't have very much time, you know,' he reminded her.

'You're the one who's organised this, not me, and I'm not going anywhere
until I've had my caffeine fix,' Lucy informed him stubbornly, heading
for the kitchen.

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'Fine! Where do you keep your passport, Lucy?'

'In the bureau behind the sofa,' Lucy told him from the kitchen.

Marcus opened the bureau and saw passports immediately. Two of them were
bundled together inside a rubber band. He snapped off the band and
opened the top one, and then wished that he hadn't. It was the passport
Lucy had had when she had been married, and the photograph inside it
showed a bright-eyed, happy-looking young woman. Her current passport,
though-the one she had obtained after her divorce, when she had reverted
to her maiden name-showed a thinner-faced young woman whose eyes held
stark pain and despair. What on earth had she seen in Nick Blayne? How
could she have loved him? Was it really 'loved'?

'Did you find the passport?' Lucy asked as she walked past him with her
coffee and pushed open her bedroom door. Lifting a small case from
beneath the bed onto it, she began methodically opening drawers and
placing what she thought she would need on her bed.

'Look-while you're doing that, why don't I pack your toiletries for you?"

Having Marcus safely out of the way and out of her line of vision,
instead of standing there watching her and making her think about last
night, was a very good idea, Lucy acknowledged. So she nodded her head
and handed him the bag she used for such necessities, exhaling slowly
when he had disappeared into her small bathroom.

Determinedly Lucy started to fold the Things she had put on the bed. and
place them into the flat packs she always used for travelling.

'Lucy, what about your pills?' Marcus called out the bathroom.

Her pills! Thank heavens he had reminded her. She had learned the hard
way never to go anywhere without her sun allergy pills.

'In the cabinet,' she called back. 'Second shelf down, right-hand side.'

She heard him opening the cabinet door as she placed the flat packs in
her case, and then he called out again, 'I can't find them.'

Putting down the pack she was holding, Lucy walked into the bathroom,
holding her breath when she was forced to squeeze past him to reach the
cabinet.

They're right here,' she told him, taking the allergy tablets from the
shelf.

'Those aren't contraceptive pills,' Marcus objected.

Contraceptive pills?

'No. I don't take contraceptive pills. I don't need to. I've never
needed to. Nick always used a condom. It was something he was obsessive
about. He told me that he never had and never would have sex without
wearing one.'

This wasn't a subject she wanted to discuss with Marcus in any way,
shape or form, Lucy recognised. But she couldn't help wondering if the
fact that Marcus had felt so good inside her last night had been because
he had been inside her skin to skin, and she had loved the intimacy of
knowing that.

As Lucy hurried back into the bedroom Marcus frowned. Last night, with
unprecedented recklessness, the last thing on his mind had been the need
for any kind of contraceptive or health precaution. He had to admit that
hearing Lucy's ex-husband had insisted on wearing a condom was very good
news.

He watched her whilst she finished her packing. He could feel his body
tightening, and a very specific ache gripping it. He wanted her.

64

He was supposed to be focusing on getting her to want him, not allowing
himself to want her. 'Ready?' he demanded tersely. Lucy gave an
unsmiling nod of assent.

65

Palma airport was always busy, and today was no exception. Lucy
struggled to dodge the mounds of luggage and keep up with Marcus who,
despite having their luggage to deal with, still somehow or other
managed to have a positively 'parting of the Red Sea' effect on the
crowds. They opened to allow him through, and then closed again, forcing
her to fight her way through.

Marcus had now reached the exit, where he was being approached by two
pretty girls wearing the uniforms of a certain car rental firm. Was it a
car they were hoping to persuade him to hire, or a date they were hoping
to be offered? Lucy wondered jealously as she finally caught up with him.

'I was just explaining to these ladies that the hotel will have sent a
car to collect us,' he told Lucy.

'The hotel? What hotel?' Lucy demanded as he started to walk towards the
waiting chauffeurs with their boards displaying clients' names. 'I
thought we were staying with Beatrice.'

'Did you? The villa's quite small and remote, and since Beatrice is
there to oversee some remedial work on the bathrooms I didn't think it
was a good idea for us to expect her to put us up. I've booked us into a
hotel instead. It's iil Dei a, very close to the Residencia, and
supposed to be even better. And don't worry about the bill. I shall be
Paying it. Ah, there's our driver.'

If she stood on her tiptoes, she could just about see the

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smartly uniformed chauffeur holding up a placard that read 'Hotel
Boutique, Deia'.

Lucy knew Majorca quite well, since it had recently become very much one
of the 'in' places to stay, following on from various celebs buying
property in an exclusive enclave of villas and boutique hotels that had
sprung up on a previously undeveloped part of the island's coastline.
The Residencia had been the place to stay in this upmarket resort, and
from what she had heard the new Hotel Boutique was even more special.
Lucy had heard rave reviews from clients who had stayed there.

Outside the airport, the warmth of the night air wrapped round her like
soft cashmere as the chauffeur opened the doors of a large Mercedes
limousine for them.

Marcus slid into the seat next to her and the chauffeur closed the doors.

'Where exactly is Beatrice's villa?' she asked Marcus uncertainly as the
Mercedes joined the queue of traffic waiting to leave the airport.

'Up in the hills outside Palma.'

'But that's a long way from Deia,' Lucy objected. 'Wouldn't it have been
better for us to have stayed somewhere closer?'

'The Boutique has an excellent reputation, and I thought you'd prefer to
stay there.'

'How long will it take us to get there?' Lucy asked.

'Not that long. Why?'

'I need another caffeine fix. I'm desperate for a cup of coffee.'

And he was desperate for her, Marcus found himself thinking. 'Do you
want me to ask the driver to stop somewhere?'

Lucy shook her head. 'No, I'll wait.'

She was beginning to feel tired, and more than a little

bit headachy, but despite the comfort of the Mercedes she couldn't relax
properly-not with Marcus right there next to her.

The road climbed and turned, winding through the hills, and then started
to drop down again. Below them Lucy could see the lights of villas,
dotted either side of the river ravine, and below them the small harbour
itself. Pure, perfect picture-postcard stuff.

The Mercedes turned in to a narrow stone tunnel beyond which lay a paved
forecourt. Within seconds, or so it seemed, they were standing in the
jasmine-scented coolness of the foyer, a huge fan whirring above their
heads, traditional terracotta tiles underfoot, and the decor echoing the
very best of traditional Majorcan interiors. The white walls were warmed
by striking paintings and woven rugs in rich earthy colours.

'If you will follow Jose, he will show you to your suites.' The
receptionist smiled as she handed Marcus two key cards, and a very young
and very handsome young Majorcan appeared from out of nowhere to assist
them.

The lift was tucked away discreetly in a corner, and as it bore them
upwards Jose told them proudly, 'You have the best suites in the whole
hotel. The King of Spain himself, he has stayed there with his family.'

The lift stopped and Jose held the doors open, giving a small bow as he
encouraged her to step through ahead of him.

A short, wide corridor lay in front of her, its walls painted white and
hung with more paintings. Lucy was tempted to linger and inspect them
more closely, drawn by the richness of the oil paint, but her head was
pounding and she was desperate for coffee.

Only two doors opened off the corridor. Jose stopped at

68

the first of them and opened the door, inviting Lucy to step inside.

As she did so, her eyes widened in appreciation. In front of her was a
large room with a high ceiling, furnished with traditional dark, heavy
wooden furniture which included a huge four-poster bed. Floor-to-ceiling
wooden shutters filled one wall, and when Jose went to open them for her
Lucy gasped in delight. The shutters concealed glass patio doors beyond
which was a well-lit private terrace, complete with its own plunge pool,
and beyond that an uninterrupted view of the sea and sky.

'Thank you, Jose. I'll find my own way around everything.' Lucy smiled
and tipped him so that he could leave and show Marcus to his suite.

As soon as she had closed the door behind Jose, Lucy picked up the
telephone and hurriedly dialled Room Service. Only when she had ordered
her much-needed coffee did she start to study the suite properly.

A wooden screen that could be folded back separated the bedroom from an
integral, sensually luxurious, huge round bath, set into the floor right
in front of the patio windows so that one might lie in the bath and look
out across the terrace and beyond it.

The wall opposite the patio doors was completely mirrored, as was the
wall at right angles to it, and set against the right angle was an
all-glass shower cubicle, so that in effect one could bathe or shower
and see one's reflection in the mirrors at the same time.

She heard a knock on her bedroom door. Her coffee-Wonderful! But when
she went to open the door it was Marcus who was standing outside it.

'I've brought you this,' he told her, handing her a card key. 'I'm going
to ring Beatrice in a minute, and fix up a meeting with her for
tomorrow, but so far as dinner tonight

is concerned, there's supposed to be an excellent restaurant down by the
harbour. It's eight now, so if I book a table for ten...?'

'Yes. Fine,' Lucy agreed, exhaling in relief as she saw the waiter
coming down the corridor.

Ten minutes later, with her caffeine levels replenished, Lucy explored
the rest of her suite.

In addition to her open plan bedroom-cum-bathroom, she also had a
self-contained dressing room and a second bathroom, with another shower
plus bidet and lavatory.

She would have to change before she went out for dinner. A shower would
be speedier, but she just couldn't resist the temptation to wallow
self-indulgently in the bath.

Lucy lay soaking in the bubble-topped silky warm water of her bath,
luxuriating in the sensuality of the experience. She had left her
shutters open, so that she could enjoy the view out to sea should she
feel energetic enough to lift her head off the bath pillow. Instead,
though, she opened her eyes and looked towards the mirrored wall. There
was something irresistibly sensual about the combination of a huge bath
and a mirror in which one could see oneself using it. This was
definitely a suite for lovers.

Lovers. There was only one man she wanted as her lover. Only one man she
had ever wanted, full stop. And that man was Marcus.

Marcus.

Was his suite the same as her own? Was he right now lazing in a tub of
hot water, his body naked beneath the suds? A shiver of sensual pleasure
iced through her own heat, as pleasurable as ice-cream melted by hot
chocolate sauce-only a thousand times more so she suspected that Marcus
was more likely to prefer

70

a fierce shower to a lazy linger in a bath. And he still hadn't said a
word about last night.

Lucy closed her eyes and stroked the soapy water over her skin,
imagining that it was still last night and that Marcus was here with
her, touching her, stroking her. A wet heat that had nothing at all to
do with the water flooded her sex. This was getting dangerous. But she
couldn't resist the temptation to lie there and fantasise, to imagine
and remember. She closed her eyes...

She had almost fallen asleep in the bath! And look at the time! It was
gone nine o'clock. Reaching for the plug, Lucy stepped up out of the
bath and reached for one of the deliciously thick, fluffy towels. The
mirror threw back her reflection-white soap bubbles slithering silkily
down her body, covering her sex and then revealing it. She could feel
the hot beat of her own desire as it pulsed out its hungry message. Her
fingers touched her own body, stroking the foam from the swell of her
mound and then moving lower. She watched her own movements in the
mirrors, unable to look away. Her heart had started to race, a fierce
wanton urgency filling her. Slowly and delicately, her tongue-tip
pressed to her teeth, .

Marcus... Immediately her flesh swelled and glistened richly, her heart
pumping...

Somewhere outside the intensity of her concentration she heard a noise
that sounded like a door opening...

A door opening! Immediately she removed her hand and reached for a
towel, her face burning with self-conscious heat as she realised that
Marcus was standing in her bedroom.

How long had he been there? How much had he seen? Behind him she could
see what must be a connecting door

between the two suites. He must have knocked, but she had obviously been
too preoccupied to hear him. Her face burned with the knowledge of what
she had so nearly been preoccupied with!

'How much longer is it going to take you to get ready?' he asked her.
'Only it's nearly nine-thirty now.'

He, Lucy recognised dizzily, was already changed, wearing a pair of
light-coloured chinos with a darker-coloured top.

'I'm virtually there,' she replied, and then blushed vividly as she
realised just what connotation could be placed on her comment, and how
appropriate it had almost been. She did not dare look at Marcus as she
almost scurried past him and into her dressing room.

'It's a long, steep walk down to the harbour, so I've asked the hotel to
provide us with a car and a driver,' Marcus announced as they walked
into the foyer together, and Lucy glanced down at her
strappy-sandal-shod feet. The same sandals she had been wearing
yesterday. The same sandals one of which she had left on his stairs, and
then found placed neatly with its twin this morning, alongside her
clothes...

She wasn't normally a fan of high-heeled shoes, but the dress she was
wearing had a pretty handkerchief hem and demanded equally pretty footwear.

From the hotel, the road to the harbour wound down alongside the river,
the wooded slopes broken up by the lights of a scattering of expensive
luxury villas,

The harbour itself was tiny, and predictably filled with sleek
expensive-looking yachts-just as the restaurants fronting onto the
harbour were filled with equally sleek and expensive-looking diners.

This was very much Notting-Hill-on-Sea territory, Lucy thought ruefully.
Within seconds of leaving their car and

72

taking less than half a dozen steps, she had seen at least half a dozen
famous faces amongst the groups of people already seated at the tables
set up outside the restaurants and bars.

'The place I've booked us into has a reputation for serving top-quality
fish dishes,' Marcus told her. 'And, knowing how much you like fish, I
thought you might prefer that to a more traditional tapas bar.'

'Yes, I would,' Lucy agreed, as she stiffed a small yawn.

'Sleepy?'

'No, not really. I think my bath must have made me feel tired,' Lucy
responded without thinking, and then felt her whole body start to burn
as she tensed, dreading hearing Marcus say that he knew exactly why she
might be feeling tired.

There was really no reason for her to feel embarrassed about something
so natural. Heavens, she didn't know any women of her own age who were
not prepared to trade opinions on the latest vibrator. But somehow the
fact that Marcus might have seen her almost engaged in such a very
intimate and personal act of self-pleasure made her feel acutely
embarrassed. Especially after last night. Oh, yes, especially after last
night. Now he might think that it was her desire for him that had
prompted her to such a course of action.

He might think it, but she actually knew it, Lucy admitted to herself,
as Marcus guided her between the packed tables and into the restaurant
itself,

Typically, Marcus had managed to secure them a table with just about the
best view of the harbour possible, and he had been right about the food
as well, Lucy saw, when her own meal was placed in front her. Her mouth
started to water. Pan-fried scallops with an Asian fusion-style

warm salad. Marcus, she noted, had chosen a thick tuna

steak.

'More wine?'

Lucy shook her head firmly. She was already on her second glass, and
beginning to feel pleasantly relaxed. She didn't need or want any more.

Marcus had only had two glasses himself, although she noticed that,
unlike her, he did not nod his head when the waiter asked if they wanted
coffee.

'Espresso?' he commented after she had given her order. 'You'll never
sleep.'

'Watch me,' Lucy answered flippantly, and then went bright red. Heavens,
Marcus was going to think she was propositioning him if she kept on
saying idiotic things like that.

Watch her? Oh, he would love to... And not only watch, either.

'What time did you say we were seeing Beatrice tomorrow?' Lucy asked
Marcus hastily, trying to sound businesslike and efficient.

'She's going to ring me in the morning to confirm,' Marcus told her as
he glanced at his watch. 'I don't want to rush you, but the car should
be back for us any minute now.'

Her coffee had arrived and Lucy drank it greedily, relishing both its
smell and its taste, while Marcus summoned' their waiter and asked for
the bill.

She certainly wasn't going to risk having another bath after what had
happened earlier, Lucy decided as she locked her suite door and stepped
out of her sandals. Instead she would make do with a shower. She yawned
sleepily. After last night, and then Marcus walking in on her and

74

almost finding her touching herself, she should have been : on edge all
evening, but instead she had actually felt very relaxed-so relaxed, in
fact, that on a couple of occasions she had even laughed. Marcus had
proved to be an unexpectedly entertaining and interesting dinner
companion, and she had been sorry when the evening had come to an
end-and not just because, given the choice, she would have so much
preferred to end it in Marcus's arms, in Marcus's bed.

She undressed quickly and pulled on the complimentary bathrobe before
tidying away her clothes and heading for the shower.

She had just stepped out of it and towelled herself her dry when she
heard a knock on her patio window. She realised that Marcus was standing
outside, beckoning to her. Like her, he too was wearing a bathrobe, but
whereas on her it fell to the floor and trailed behind her, on Marcus it
only just covered his knees. The sight of the bare tanned flesh of his
legs made the muscles in her lower body clench in unmistakable need.

Fighting down her reaction, she went to open the door, pulling her own
robe protectively around her as she did so. Marcus had obviously walked
across from his own suite, she recognised, and she realised that they
actually shared the terrace, which ran the full length of both suites.

'Marcus, I was just about to go to bed,' she protested.

He ignored her, taking hold of her arm and commanding, 'Come and look at
this,' as he drew her towards the stone parapet that edged the terrace.

'Look at what?' she demanded, and then stood still, a soft 'Oh!' of
pleasure escaping from her lips as down below their hotel, at one of the
villas, fireworks exploded in a burst of scarlet stars.

'Fireworks,' she whispered, entranced.

'I remembered how much you like them.' Marcus smiled.

'They're magical-like champagne in the sky,' Lucy responded softly.
'Someone must be celebrating something.'

As he wanted to celebrate her, Marcus thought. But in a far more private
and intimate way. He would gladly create sexual fireworks for her if she
would just allow him.

Another burst of stars followed the first one, this time a shower of
sparkling silver and white against the night dark sky.

She looked as excited and enthralled as a small child, Marcus reflected,
as she hung onto the stone balustrade and watched. But she wasn't a child.

Lucy could feel Marcus standing behind her, the warmth of his body
taking the chill of the evening breeze from hers and making her want to
lean back against him...skin to skin...whilst the fireworks lit the sky
and her own desire exploded inside her. She looked down. Marcus was
leaning forward to get a better view of the fireworks, his hands either
side of her own, so that she was enclosed between his body and the parapet.

A burst of gold and crimson exploded into the darkness before falling
back to earth...

'Oh, Marcus...' Without thinking, she turned round. He was so close to
her. So very close.

'Marcus...' She looked up at his mouth and swallowed.

Oh, God, but she wanted him.

'They've finished now. I'd better go in,' she told him jerkily, almost
pushing him out of her way in her desperate need to get away from him
before she did something even more stupid than she had done already.

She was in so much of a rush that she didn't realise he had followed her
inside her suite and was closing the patio door until it was too late.

76

She couldn't even move when he began to walk towards her, her mouth
suddenly too dry for her to speak and her legs too weak for her to move.

In complete silence he took hold of her hand and drew her with him
toward the bath and then past it, until they were standing in front of
the mirror. Just where she had been standing earlier, when he had...

The colour came and went in her face as he took her in his arms and
started to kiss her, holding her face in his hands whilst he brushed her
trembling lips over and over again with his own, until she had forgotten
everything but her own need to have his mouth on her now, longer and
harder. Her own hands rose to cover his shoulders, her fingers digging
deep into the muscles as she shuddered fiercely beneath the sudden
thrusting possession of his tongue. She felt his hands on her body,
pushing the robe off her shoulders, and immediately she dropped her arms
so that she could step out of it.

Very slowly Marcus turned her round and drew her back against himself,
so that she was facing the mirror and he was standing behind her. His
hands skimmed her body, stroking her skin, cupping her breasts, whilst
her nipples pushed eagerly against his touch and his mouth teased the
sensitive pleasure spot just behind her ear.

Her whole body arched as the breath left her lungs in a sob of erotic
longing. Helplessly Lucy closed her eyes- half shocked by the sight of
her own naked arousal and the erotic movement of Marcus's hands over her
body, and half so aroused by it that she wanted him to take her there
and then. To bend her forward until she could rest her hands against the
mirror, whilst her hair tumbled round her face ,
She was wet, so very wet, and hot and aching, her muscles quivering in
anticipation of the pleasure and satisfaction her body craved.

'Open your eyes, Lucy, and look in the mirror.'

Very slowly, she did so.

Marcus caressed her naked shoulders, his hands sliding down to cup her
breasts whilst he kissed her throat. The sensation of the slightly rough
pads of his fingertips against the exquisite sensitivity of her tight
nipples made her cry out and arch her back, to bring her breasts closer
to his caress while she pressed her buttocks back against him in eager,
urgent movement.

'Is that good?'

His voice sounded thicker, deeper, sending a message to her own senses
like a note running along a wire. He was plucking erotically at her
nipples, his tanned skin a contrast to her own pale softness and the
dark hot flush of her engorged flesh.

His hands moved lower down, over her ribcage, lower... Lucy sighed and
squirmed, closing her eyes in anticipation of the pleasure to come.

'No...open your eyes and watch me,' Marcus insisted thickly.

. Lucy couldn't remove her aroused gaze from the
movement of his hands. Her heart started to hammer against the wall of
her chest as slowly and deliberately he folded back the soft flesh-just
as she herself had done earlier. She looked into the mirror and saw in
his eyes that he had seen her, had known what she was thinking. What she
had been wanting. What she had been on the verge of doing....

78

Isn't this better?' he demanded softly. 'Why pleasure yourself, Lucy,
when I can do it for you?'

His mouth caressed the magic spot just below her ear and her whole body
convulsed.

'Did you know that the nerve-endings in this spot here are directly
connected to your nerve-endings right here?' she heard him whisper in
her ear, as he kissed her skin again and ,.

Once. Twice. And then faster. Until she was breathing frantically fast
and her whole body was shuddering in the grip of orgasm.

She couldn't move. She couldn't even stand. She felt boneless,
weightless...and pleasured. Pleasured, but not satisfied, she knew, as
Marcus swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

Only when he had placed her on it and removed his own robe,
and she had allowed herself
to enjoy the delicious pleasure touching him had relayed via her
fingertips to each and every one of her senses, did she think to say
uncertainly, 'Marcus, I don't think we should be doing this...'

'Why ever not? You enjoyed it last night, didn't you?'

Enjoyed it? Of course she'd enjoyed it. But that wasn't the issue, or
the point she was trying to make.

And yet she was murmuring dizzily, 'Oh, yes, I did.'

'And so did I. So there's no problem, is there?'

'No, I don't suppose there is,' Lucy agreed weakly.

How could there be any kind of problem when Marcus was touching her like
this? Kissing her like this? 'Mmm,' she sighed happily against his
mouth, and she reached up and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

79

Lucy looked at the pillow next to her own. It was still squashed from
having Marcus's sleeping head lying on it. She reached out and tenderly
traced the indentation, a smile of soft happiness curving her mouth.
Last night had been so wonderful-and what had made it even more
wonderful had been falling asleep cuddled up next to Marcus, free to
snuggle in against him and breathe in the scent of him. She had woken up
several times during the night, just for the pleasure of reassuring
herself that he was still there.

But he wasn't always going to be 'still there', was he? She had no idea
what had prompted Marcus to indulge in this brief and unexpected sexual
adventure with her, but she knew already how much it was going to hurt
when he grew tired of it-and of her. She didn't want Marcus for a brief
fling. She wanted him for life. Despair swamped her earlier euphoria.

'Come on, sleepyhead, wake up. I've ordered breakfast, and it will be
here any minute.'

Marcus! Lucy shot upright in the bed, and then blushed and reached for
the protection of the duvet to cover her bare breasts, all too aware of
the amused and quizzical look in Marcus's eyes. He sat down beside her,
firmly removed her 'protection', and bent his head to kiss first one
nipple and then -the other. Then he murmured appreciatively, 'Maybe I
should phone Room Service and tell them to delay breakfast.'

'Mmm,' Lucy agreed weakly, and then grabbed for the duvet again when
there was a knock on the door.

18-11-07, 08:45 PM

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كاتب الموضوع : نيارااا المنتدى : الارشيف

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

'I'll get them to take our breakfast through my suite onto the terrace,'
Marcus offered, leaving the bed to go and close the shutters for her.
'But don't you dare go back to sleep.'

Sleep! That was the last thing she felt like doing, Lucy thought as she
headed for the shower.

'I was just about to come and make sure you hadn't gone back to sleep,'
Marcus told her ten minutes later, when she opened the shutters and
walked through the patio doors onto the terrace.

'I've ordered coffee for you,' he continued. 'And fruit juice, and
poached eggs with tomatoes and mushrooms. There's some toast as well.'

'A cooked breakfast? Yuck.' Lucy shuddered as she sat down and
immediately looked longingly at the coffee pot.

Marcus was already pouring coffee for her, and she breathed in its rich
aroma whilst her tastebuds prepared themselves for their morning surge
of caffeine. Marcus, she noticed, was drinking green tea.

'The body needs protein in the morning,' Marcus told her firmly, as he
removed the cover from his own breakfast. 'It can't function properly
without it.'

'Oh, thank you, Dr Atkins,' Lucy retorted sourly as she reached for her
coffee. But the eggs did look appetising. She reached out and pinched a
mushroom from Marcus's plate.

'Eat,' Marcus commanded, handing her her own breakfast. 'As soon as
we've finished breakfast I'll go and ring Beatrice and check what time
she's expecting to meet up with us,' he added, as she tucked into her
eggs and realised just how hungry she actually was. 'But first there is
something I want to discuss with you.'

Lucy had to put down her coffee cup because her hand

had started to tremble. Here it was-the demand for an explanation she
had been dreading so much.

'If it's about last night...and...and the day before...' she

began defensively.

'It is,' Marcus agreed. 'It seems to me, Lucy, that it would be a very
good idea if you and I were to get married.'

Had she heard him correctly? Was he trying to make some kind of joke?
'Married? You mean, as in to one another?' she asked him cautiously.

'Of course I mean as in to one another.'

'But-but, Marcus...why? I mean, why would you- we-want to do that? I
mean, you don't even like me very much!' Lucy blurted out, too shocked
not to be honest.

'I think that you and I would be very well suited to one another.'

Lucy reached for her coffee cup and took a deep gulp. He hadn't said
that he did like her, she noticed. And he certainly hadn't said that he
loved her.

'We share a similar background, and I suspect a very similar outlook on
life. We both, I think, want children, and, despite the ending of your
marriage to Nick, I believe that, like me, you think of commitment made
to another person via marriage as one that is made for life--for better
or for worse, in a relationship to which one is totally committed.
Because make no mistake-if we do marry, I shall be committed completely
and totally to our marriage, and to you and to our children, and I shall
expect the same commitment from you.'

Total and complete commitment from Marcus to her? Was she dreaming?

'But-but...'

'But what?' Marcus demanded coolly. "As the last two

82

days have proved, we are exceptionally sexually compatible.'

'But people don't get married just because they are having good sex
together!' Lucy protested. 'You can't want to marry me because of that,
Marcus.'

'There are other reasons,' he agreed.

'What other reasons?'

'I'll be thirty-five in December,' Marcus told her calmly. 'All the men
in my family-my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather and back
beyond that-married before they were thirty-five. It's a family
tradition, and one I have no intention of breaking.'

Did he mean that if she refused him he would find someone else who wouldn't?

She thought about how it would feel, being married to Marcus without
being loved by him when she loved him so much. It would hurt-and very
badly. Then she thought about how she would feel seeing Marcus married
to someone else because he wanted to be married before his thirty-fifth
birthday.

There just wasn't any comparison. She could not bear the thought of
seeing Marcus married to someone else when she could have been married
to him herself.

'And we have to be aware of the fact that, since you don't take the pill
and I haven't been using any form of contraception, you might already
have conceived my child,' Marcus reminded her. 'I know how much you love
children, Lucy, but I don't think you'd want to be a single mother-and I
certainly wouldn't allow you to bring up my child without me being a
part of its life. It would be far more practical for us to get married.'

Practical! She didn't want practical. She wanted undying love, and
promises that she would be showered with kisses day and night.

But Marcus didn't love her, Lucy reminded herself sternly. Just as Nick
hadn't loved her-and look what had happened there.

She couldn't marry him. And she couldn't not marry him.

She hadn't loved Nick, had she? But she did love Marcus-and besides,
Marcus was a completely different man from Nick. Marcus had stated
un*****ocally that their marriage would be a permanent commitment, and
that meant it would be exactly that. And she wanted that. She wanted it
so very badly. She wanted to wake up every morning in a bed she shared
with him, she wanted to conceive his children, and she wanted to grow
old with him.

Love could grow, couldn't it? And Marcus did want her. Unlike Nick,
Marcus wanted to have sex with her. Unlike Nick, Marcus enjoyed having
sex with her-he had said so.

'Marcus, if we were to...to become a couple, don't you think that people
might think it rather odd and ask questions?'

"Why should they? And if they do I shall simply tell them that I had
always planned to marry you, and that since Blayne beat me to it first
time round I'm making sure I don't lose you to anyone else."

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. If only that was the truth.

'So, are you willing to accept my proposal? I promise you that I think a
marriage between us will work very well, Lucy, and I shall certainly do
everything within my power to ensure that it does.'

I don't know. I'm so confused...'

Marcus sounded more as though he were chairing a business meeting than
proposing to her. But then to him

84

no doubt their marriage was a kind of business arrangement, she thought
sadly.

'Perhaps I should take you back to bed,' Marcus murmured softly. 'That
might help make up your mind.'

Her insides melted, then somehow she was nodding her head, and Marcus
was saying coolly, 'Good, so it's agreed, then. We won't say anything
official until I've had a chance to speak to your father-and besides,
I'd prefer us to wait until we return to London to choose your ring.
There is a family betrothal ring-so astoundingly ugly, according to my
mother, that she threatened not to marry my father unless he allowed her
to choose something for herself-but personally, I think that for an
engaged couple to opt for a ring of their own choosing invests it with
something more personal and shared than the passing-down of a family ring-'

'I agree with you.' Lucy stopped him dizzily. Was this really happening?
Was she really sitting here over breakfast with Marcus, talking about
their marriage and her engagement ring, having just spent a wonderful
night in bed with him?

'We're virtually in October now,' Marcus continued. 'My birthday is in
early December, so I'd like to be married before the end of November if
possible. Just a small affair-if that's all right with you?'

'Oh, yes. Of course. A simple register office ceremony...'

'No.' Marcus shook his head, silencing her. 'No, I'd prefer a church
service, Lucy. After all, I think we're both agreed that we are making a
lifetime commitment to one another-I certainly view our marriage as a
permanent commitment. Since you and Blayne didn't marry in church, there
is, in my opinion, no moral or legal reason why we should not do so. And
even if the actual wedding

has to be in a register office I'd like a church blessing, if possible.
I imagine the Brompton Oratory would be the best choice. You'll want to
be married from your parents' London home, and since that is in
Knightsbridge...'

Lucy stared at him. The Oratory was the church of choice for lots of
society brides and their mothers, and very grand.

Marcus was looking at his watch.

it's nearly eleven now, and we're meeting Beatrice at twelve-thirty in
Palma to have lunch with her. So that only leaves us half an hour to get
ready-besides which, I'd better give her a ring and remind her. She's
got possibly the worst memory of anyone I know.'

They both stood up, and then on some impulse she didn't want to
investigate too closely Lucy put her hand on Marcus's arm and tugged at
the sleeve of his robe, so that he bent his head towards her. Raising
herself up on her tiptoes, she pressed her mouth to his and kissed him
softly.

She could feel the rigidity of his muscles, and her face burned as she
released him and stepped back from him.

Marcus watched her through narrowed eyes. It was one thing for her to
want him, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the intensity with which
he wanted her back. It would suit his purposes very nicely for her to
lose control in his arms, but he certainly did not want his own
self-control to be breached-and he didn't like having to admit that it
could be-especially not by Lucy.

Even so, he couldn't afford to risk alienating her at this stage by
appearing to reject her.

Lucy exhaled in shock as Marcus reached for her and threw her back into
his arms.

How and when had Marcus's hands slipped inside her robe to her naked
skin? she wondered blissfully, when she

86

suddenly realised that the sensation of his mouth on hers wasn't the
only sensual pleasure she was experiencing.

Instinctively she moved closer to him, and discovered to her delight
that he was aroused and hard. She made a small sound of female pleasure
and approval as she pressed even closer-and then reluctantly she
remembered Beatrice.

'You said we should get ready to meet your sister,' she reminded him,
the words semi-mumbled beneath the increasing passion of his kiss.

To hell with Beatrice,' she heard him respond thickly, but he started to
release her, giving her one last hard kiss as he did so, acknowledging,
'Yes, you're right. We'd better make a move.' She was going to marry
Marcus. She still couldn't take it in.

They had arrived in Palma five minutes earlier, having been driven there
by the hotel's chauffeur service.

'I thought we'd be going to Beatrice's villa to discuss the party,' Lucy
commented.

'Beatrice suggested we meet up for lunch instead,' Marcus answered. 'The
restaurant's just down here.'

Lucy knew Palma quite well, and the restaurant in front of them was one
that was patronised by wealthy locals and visitors alike. Knowing how
elegantly and expensively Marcus's elder sister dressed, Lucy had
decided to wear something a little bit more formal than she would
normally have chosen-and now that she had seen where they were to have
lunch she was glad of that fact. Her linen skirt with its row of pretty
eyelet details just above the hem, teamed with a white strappy top worn
under a crunchy cotton-linen asymmetrically styled cardigan-type jacket,
had been a good choice; virtually every other woman in

the restaurant seemed to be wearing a combination of very stylish linens
and cottons, in that smart way that continental women seemed to be able
to adopt so easily.

'Beatrice obviously hasn't arrived yet, but we may as well go straight
to our table and wait for her there-unless you want a drink in the bar
first?' Marcus suggested.

'No, let's go straight to the table,' Lucy told him. She didn't want him
thinking that she couldn't get through half a day without an alcoholic
drink, especially when it wasn't true. Coffee, now-well, that was different.

They had been waiting for about five minutes when the restaurant door
opened and Marcus's sister came hurrying in. Tall and dark-haired, like
Marcus, she was wearing black linen pants and an oatmeal-coloured cotton
top, her hair drawn back off her face, her large Oliver's People
sunglasses perched on top of her head.

'Marcus!' she exclaimed as she hurried over and kissed him. 'I am so
sorry I'm late. And Lucy-how very kind of you to give up your time like
this.'

'We haven't ordered anything yet, Bea. Would you like something to
drink?' Marcus asked, as the waiter drew out her chair for her.

'Oh, yes-a spritzer, please. I'm driving. That's why I was late. I
couldn't find anywhere to park. What's the weather like at home? When I
spoke to Mother the other day she said it was raining. I'm going to have
to stay out here until half term, and the wretched plumber says now that
he can't get the tiles we ordered, which means that when Boffy and Izzy
come out for their half term break we'll only have one bathroom.'

Lucy already knew that-contrary to her rather formidable
appearance-Beatrice was something of a 'dizzy brunette', but it still
bemused her to hear Beatrice expressing such sentiments when the only
reason Lucy was here

88

was so that they could talk about George's surprise birthday party
without him knowing.

'I can definitely recommend the food here, Lucy,' Beatrice told her.
'Especially the fish. Although perhaps not the bouillabaisse-it is
rather an acquired taste.'

The menus arrived, and while Marcus and Beatrice talked, or rather
Beatrice talked and Marcus listened, Lucy studied hers.

'Have you had any thoughts about George's party, Beatrice?' Lucy asked,
once the waiter had taken their orders.

'What? Oh, not really. George wants something small- just a few family
and friends. He has this thing about castles, and he did wonder if we
might hire one somewhere. What do you think?'

'Well, that's certainly possible,' Lucy agreed, mentally rolling her eyes.

Their food had arrived, and Lucy eyed her plate hungrily. It must be all
the sex she was having that was giving her such a good appetite, she
decided, and then went bright red as the thought of sex and appetite
somehow led to thoughts of those two elements combined together, and all
the ways that Marcus might satisfy her hunger for him.

'Goodness, Lucy, you look quite flushed. Are you all right? It is warm
in here. I think we can talk more about George's party once I'm back in
London. After all, I've got until next year, and right now these
wretched workmen have got me in such a state I can't think about
anything else.'

They had all finished eating, and Marcus turned to Lucy and asked
calmly, 'What about pudding?'

'Not for me. But I would love an espresso.'

'An espresso? Lucy, my dear, is that wise? All that caffeine in your
system will have you chattering non-stop for the rest of the day.'

Lucy had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling,
and then she made the mistake of looking at Marcus. He looked every bit
as amused as she felt, and when he gave her a small, rueful and very
private smile Lucy felt as though she had been handed the keys to
heaven. She and Marcus were sharing an intimate moment of understanding
and humour, just as though they were really in a proper relationship.

Suddenly Lucy felt as though she could touch the sky and reach for
anything-even one day, perhaps, Marcus's love.

'I can't wait to ring Mother and tell her that I've seen you both,'
Beatrice announced twenty minutes later, after they had walked her back
to her car. She then not only hugged Lucy but also kissed her
affectionately as well, before saying meaningfully, 'Mother is going to
be so pleased. She's always had a soft spot for Lucy...'

'Marcus, I think Beatrice has guessed about us,' Lucy warned him after
they had waved goodbye to her.

'I should hope so, after all the hints I dropped,' Marcus agreed dryly.

'What? You said we weren't going to tell anyone yet!'

'I haven't told her. I've just dropped a few hints. Knowing Beatrice the
way I do, it won't be very long before she's convinced herself that she
guessed about us ages ago-and that should help to ease away any
uncomfortable questions about the speed with which things have happened.'

It would also place another barrier in the way of Lucy changing her mind
and backing out of marrying him, Marcus reflected cynically.

'We've got another hour before the hotel chauffeur is due to pick us up.
How about a walk?'

90

'Lovely,' Lucy told him, and meant it.

What she hadn't been prepared for was that Marcus would choose to walk
in the direction of a very expensive-looking jewellers and then draw her
towards its windows. 'See anything you like?' he asked.

'I thought you said we wouldn't get a ring until we get home?'

'Yes, of course-for one thing I thought you might want to choose a stone
and then a setting-but I wasn't thinking of a ring right now, Lucy.
You've just agreed to be my wife, and, whilst your engagement ring will
be a public acknowledgement of that fact, I would like to celebrate it
with something rather more personal-a pair of earrings, perhaps?
Something like those?' he added, indicating the very pair of diamond
studs Lucy hadn't been able to stop gazing at.

'Marcus, you don't have to buy me anything,' she protested.

'That's right. I don't have to,' he agreed blandly as he rang the bell
for admittance to the shop. 'But I do want to.'

They were inside the shop-all thick carpets, glass display cases, the
quiet and very serious hum of air-conditioning and wealth, and
immaculately groomed young male and female sales assistants.

As soon as Marcus told one of them what he wanted, they were taken to a
small private room and offered comfortable seats.

'Perhaps you would care for a drink-water, coffee?' the sales assistant
offered.

'Oh, coffee please.' Lucy thanked him. ignoring the way Marcus lifted
his eyebrow. 'Okay, so you don't do caffeine,' she hissed, as soon as
they were alone. 'But I do.'

'Caffeine and champagne,' Marcus agreed dryly.

The salesman was returning, carrying Lucy's coffee and accompanied by an
older, obviously more senior member of the shop's staff. It was too late
for Lucy to defend herself on the champagne charge.

'You have an excellent eye if I may say so, senora,' the senior salesman
told Lucy approvingly as he spread the roll of fabric he was carrying on
top of the immaculate glass and then placed the earrings on it.

'These stones are excellent quality, and without any blemish. They are D
quality, which means they have exceptional clarity and purity. They are
one and a half carats each, and set in platinum.'

And they would cost a fortune, Lucy recognised, as she mentally said
goodbye to them.

'They are lovely,' she began 'But-'

'Why don't you try them on?' Marcus overrode her.

Reluctantly, Lucy did so, and then looked at her reflection in the
mirror the salesman gave her. The stones burned with blue-white fire and
were, as he had said, of exceptional purity.

'Please excuse me a moment,' the salesman murmured, getting up and
leaving the room.

'Marcus, you mustn't buy me these,' Lucy told him as soon as they were
alone.

'Why not? Don't you like them? Personally, I think they suit you very well.'

Not like them? Was he kidding? No woman could possibly not like diamonds
such as these.

'Of course I like them. But that isn't the point.'

'No? Then what is?' he challenged her.

'The cost, of course. Marcus, these are going to be dreadfully
expensive.' She looked so worried, with her forehead creased in that
small frown and her eyes shadowed with anxiety, that it actually made
him frown himself.

92

She was the first woman he had ever bought jewellery for who had begged
him not to do so because of its cost.

The salesman had returned, carrying a small square box.

'We'll take the earrings. My fiancée loves them,' Marcus announced coolly.

The salesman beamed. 'Ah, senor, you will not regret their purchase, I
do assure you. They will more than keep their value. And it occurs to me
that you might like to see this bangle, which has the same quality of
stones, but of only one carat each. The bangle itself is made of
platinum and white gold. The design is modern but delicate,' he
enthused, removing the bangle from its box so that they could see it.

Once again Lucy found that she was holding her breath. The bangle was
beautiful, simple and elegant, its simple curving lines set with three
diamonds all offset from one another.

'Try it on,' Marcus urged her.

Lucy shook her head. 'No,' she told him firmly, standing up with a
determination that rather astonished her. 'It is beautiful,' she agreed,
turning to the salesman. 'But I don't wear very much jewellery, other
than my watch. The earrings are more than enough.'

Lucy waited discreetly in the main part of the shop whilst Marcus paid
for her earrings, then automatically fell into step beside him as they
walked back outside into the late-afternoon sunshine. She longed to move
closer to him, to slip her arm through his, or even better for him to
take her hand in his. But of course he did no such thing. A small,
unexpectedly sharp pang of pain seized her.

'Thank you for my earrings, Marcus,' she told him quietly, fighting back
her longing to turn towards him and kiss him. 'They are beautiful, but
really you shouldn't have.'

She watched as he gave a dismissive, almost uncaring shrug. 'Of course I
should. Is there anything else you'd like to look at? Only our car
should be here in another few minutes.'

Lucy shook her head. If she was honest, what she wanted to do right now,
more than anything else, was to go back to their hotel so that she could
be on her own with Marcus.

The ache that had begun earlier in her bedroom, when he had kissed her,
had gradually but very determinedly been increasing in intensity all the
time she had been with him, and it was now an urgent pulsing female need
that was overriding any other desire she might have had. She wanted
Marcus and she wanted him desperately, eagerly, completely and utterly.
And, what was more, that wanting had nothing whatsoever to do with the
diamonds or anything else he might buy her.

'How do you feel about having dinner here on the terrace this evening?
We can go out, if you like, or dine in the hotel restaurant. But I
thought in view of the fact that we shall be returning to London
tomorrow morning, in our new role as an engaged couple, this evening
might be a good opportunity to discuss any concerns you might have about
the future.'

'Dinner on the terrace sounds wonderful,' Lucy told Marcus truthfully,
They were in her suite, having just returned from Palma.

'We're going to have to talk about Pret a Party, and how you visualise
its future at some stage,' Marcus continued.

Pret a Party! Lucy realised with shock that she had barely given her
business a thought since she had Marcus had stepped onto their flight to
Palma.

94

'Oh, you don't-' She began immediately to reassure Marcus that he did
not need to worry that she would be expecting him to rescue her ailing
business from debt, and then stopped. Andrew Walker had said that he
didn't want her to mention their discussion to anyone at this stage, and
until he actually came back to her with a firm offer there wasn't really
anything to discuss, was there? If she told Marcus now that her problems
with her business were over, that Pret a Party had a potential investor,
and then had to tell him that she had been let down, she was going to
look very silly and gullible. Just as she had done when Nick had cheated
her. She could still remember how angry and contemptuous Marcus had been
then. She didn't want that to happen a second time.

"Must we talk about Pret a Party tonight?' Lucy asked him. 'Only...'

'Only what?" Marcus probed.

'Only I thought that tonight could be for...us,' Lucy whispered,
pink-cheeked. She could feel her blush deepening as she saw the way he
was looking at her.

'For us? Well, it certainly might be a good idea if we discuss some of
the practical issues we need to sort out.'

Disappointment filled her. That was not what she had meant at all.

'Practical issues?' Did he mean things like contraception? Lucy wondered
uncertainly. If so, she would have to find the words to tell him that
she relished the experience of feeling him inside her without anything
between them so much that she would prefer it if she made herself
responsible for that side of things and took the contraceptive pill.

'Yes. Practical issues,' Marcus repeated. 'Such as where we are going to
live. I'd prefer to keep my Wendover

Square house as our London home. After all, it's been in my family for
nearly two hundred years.'

'It is a lovely house,' Lucy agreed, 'especially with the garden. But
I'll want to redecorate it. And I'll definitely want an espresso-maker
in the kitchen,' she added teasingly.

'The decorating I do not have a problem with,' Marcus returned dryly.
The espresso machine might require some in-depth discussion and a
compromise. Perhaps even some compensation. But I like the idea of us
looking for a house in the country,' he continued.

'Mmm, I'd like that too. Though I'll want to continue to work, Marcus.'

'Of course. So shall I,' he agreed drolly, before looking at his watch
and telling her, 'But remember, since we have been having sex without
contraception, you could already be pregnant. Running a business and
caring for a new baby wouldn't be easy. Look, it's six o'clock now and I
need a shower. Why don't I go to my own suite, order dinner for eight,
have a shower, get changed, make a couple of phone calls and then meet
you outside on the terrace at, say, seven-thirty?'

'Perfect,' Lucy told him, although she was disappointed when he walked
over to the communicating door, opened it and walked through it without
kissing her before he left.

She would have a shower herself, she decided. Then a small smile curled
her mouth as she glanced towards the bath. The thought of enjoying a
long lazy soak was very tempting, especially with her memories of the
erotic pleasure it had led to later.

She hadn't brought any 'occasion'-type clothes with her, which was
another reason to prefer having dinner on their own terrace.

She reached for the telephone and pressed the numbers

96

for Room Service, so that she could order some coffee, then closed the
shutters and pulled out the folding door that enabled her to close off
the shower and bathroom area from the rest of the bedroom. Being
surprised in the bath by Marcus was one thing; having one of the waiters
walk in whilst she was in the shower was something else again-and
something that she most definitely did not want to happen.

It didn't take her long to shower. She loved the luxury of thick, fluffy
and constantly replenished hotel towels and bathrobes, she reflected, as
she dried herself and then smoothed her body with delicious-smelling
lotion before pulling on her robe and folding back the sliding doors.

Her coffee had arrived, and she went over to the occasional table to
pour it, pausing with a small frown when she saw the dark green,
gold-embossed gift-wrapped box lying on the table next to the coffee
tray, beside the complimentary hand-made chocolates provided by the
hotel. She recognised the name embossed on the ribbon immediately. It
was the name of the jewellers they had been in that afternoon.

This hadn't been provided by the hotel, Lucy reflected, as she picked up
the box and started to unwrap it. And it was too large to contain her
earrings. Her suspicions turned to certainty when she removed the
wrapping paper and opened it to find inside the bangle they had been
shown in the shop.

Marcus had bought it for her? As well as the earrings? He really was
spoiling her. Materially, yes, he was spoiling her. But she would much
rather have been spoiled by his love.

In the end they decided that they might as well stay in their robes for
dinner. There was no one to see them, after all, and besides, it added a
special intimacy to their evening. Lucy looked down at the bangle she
was now wearing- The moon was bathing the terrace in its cool sharp
light. Lucy picked up one of her prawns and dipped it in mayonnaise,
licking her fingers after she had finished eating it, and then smiling.

'What's the smile for?' Marcus asked.

'I was just thinking about that scene in Henry Fielding's Tom Jones-you
know, the sex and food one...'

'Oh, yes? Is that a hint?'

Lucy shook her head. 'Certainly not,' she retorted self-consciously, but
when he stood up and started to walk very purposefully towards her, her
heart did a backflip in giddy excitement and anticipation.

But when he stopped in front of her it wasn't to take her in his arms,
as she had been hoping. Instead he produced the small box that contained
her earrings.

'I should have given you these.'

He sounded so abrupt and cold that Lucy frowned. He might have said that
he wanted to marry her, but he certainly wasn't behaving as though he did.

'You shouldn't have got me this as well,' she told him, touching her
bangle. 'The earrings are more than enough.' As she spoke she reached
for the box, but to her surprise Marcus shook his head and reached for
her hand, pulling her firmly to her feet.

She had to hold her breath as he carefully inserted the earrings into
her earlobes. Not because she was afraid he might be too rough, but
because she was afraid that she might betray to him just how she felt
about him. The sensation of his warm breath on her bare skin was so
sensuously erotic that it made her whole body melt with longing for him.
She knew that she was trembling inside with the intensity of her
feelings, and that very soon she would be trembling outwardly as well.

98

The earrings were in place, and, had he loved her, this surely should
have been the moment when Marcus bent his head and kissed her-a truly
special and intimate moment they would both remember for ever-but
instead he was moving away from her.

And then, so suddenly, so shockingly that her whole body thrilled
erotically, he came back to her, pushing the robe off her shoulders with
hard knowing hands that kept her arms straight so that it could fall
away completely, while he kissed her so fiercely that she could feel the
heavy, erratic thud of his heartbeat as though it were throbbing inside
her own chest.

The only sound to break the silence was the acceleration of their
combined breathing, and then, as abruptly as he had taken hold of her,
Marcus released her mouth and began to caress her eagerly responsive flesh.

Moonlight celebrated the beauty of her naked body, The terrace was
private enough for Lucy to know that they could not be overlooked, and
there was something gloriously erotic and exciting about standing naked
in the moonlight as Marcus caressed her skin with delicate fingertips,
brushing his lips against her throat.
Marcus looked at the night-dark peaks of her nipples and then bent his
head to suckle erotically on one of them, Still caressing her, he arched Lucy back against
his arm so that her whole body was offered up to him.

He could feel her moving urgently against him as her desire quickened.

'Marcus,' Lucy moaned, 'I think I'm going to come..."

'Good,' he told her thickly, as he lifted his mouth from her breast to
her lips. 'I want you to.'

'I want you inside me,' Lucy begged.

'Later. Don't talk now,' he told her. 'Just enjoy.' Don't talk. Lucy
closed her eyes and gasped as her body tightened and pleasure began to
shudder through her.