Untamed Passion_Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  “Yeah,” Sophia moaned and he slapped the other side.

  Her orgasm blossomed and grew bigger than ever, until it consumed her. She shattered in a million crystal pieces, burying her face in the covers to stifle her loud scream.

  Alistair shouted her name with another hard plunge, every sensation magnified by the pleasure that he could feel rippling through Sophia’s body.

  He gripped her hips tightly, holding her against him as he finished and her entire body jerked and convulsed as she rode her violent and intense climax in tandem with his.

  Eyes closed, her breath coming in torturous gasps, she stayed exactly where his hands put her as he withdrew.

  “Are you all right?” Alistair asked huskily, after a few minutes.

  She nodded, unable to form a coherent response. His heart was beating against her cheek as wildly as hers against his ribs.

  “You are the most amazing woman,” he whispered, and kissed the top of her head, holding her tightly against him. “No one has ever made me feel like this. Tha mo cridhe buin do Thu.”

  “What?” she breathed, almost sleeping.

  “My heart belongs to you,” he murmured in her hair, completely sated and happy, running a hand over her curvaceous back. “Only to you.”

  Chapter 24

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up,” he whispered in Sophia’s ear.

  “I’m not blonde!” She threw a pillow at him and rolled to the other side of the bed. Muscles she didn’t know she had, complained with the movement. She grunted.

  “Come on, Beauty. Wake up.”

  She groaned, “You wore me out.”

  “And you liked it,” Alistair laughed. He lay across the bed on his stomach and his fingers caressed her back.

  “Yeah, I did like it.” She opened one eye, looked at him and mumbled something in Portuguese that he was not sure he wanted her to translate. “I want more.”

  He had already showered and dressed in a white linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms, and loose jeans.

  She rolled to his side and stretched. “What time is it?”

  “Eleven o’clock. Everyone’s already had breakfast and Munro called. He left the airport with your sister and her fiancé a few minutes ago. They will be here at any moment.”

  “Oh, my God!” Sophia jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Felipe and Angelica from Rio de Janeiro and the twins from Florence had arrived on the day before. Alice and Elena had planned a weekend at Galewick Hall to take some of the load off Sophia’s shoulders. The MacCraig, Allenthorp, and Espírito Santo families had blended very well.

  Even the twins. Alistair chuckled to himself and lay down on his back. He could hear bells toiling in the air. It was funny to see Alexander and Tavish agog with the blonde petite women. The only ones missing were Carolina and her fiancé, who had just arrived from California.

  Alistair’s forehead creased. There’s something about that guy that I don’t trust. The way he looks at Sophia. He shook his head, annoyed, remembering the way Drake had treated Sophia on the few occasions they were together in Rio. He better keep his hands away from Sophia. He sighed. Davidoff, Ashford, Westwood…the list is growing. Well, this is the price I—

  “Ready, Handsome,” Sophia threw herself over his body with a huge smile on her face.

  He was startled from his musings. “Jesus Christ, Sophia! Are you planning on killing me before the wedding?”

  She smiled mischievously and rubbed herself on his crotch, kissing him passionately, her hands delving in his silky hair to slant his mouth to her exploration.

  He grunted in her mouth and his hands went under the skirt of her dress finding the round cheeks of her buttocks. He broke the kiss, frowning. “Are you going commando?”

  She threw her head back in a happy laugh and picked up his hand showing him the tiny thong she was wearing.

  He moaned, closed his eyes and his hands pressed her onto him. “Definitively, you want to kill me.”

  Her eyes were sparkling when she dropped a last kiss on his lips, “Only with sex, milord.”

  2:49 p.m.

  Sophia sat beside Felipe on one of the library sofas and whispered, “What happened to Carol?”

  Felipe harrumphed, “She says it’s love.”

  Maybe it was exactly what Carol needed. Sophia was flabbergasted. She almost didn’t recognize the ravishing and fashionable woman who regally stepped out of the Rolls.

  In less than four months, Carolina was a new woman. She was thinner than Sophia, and wearing contact lenses under rosé gold Cartier sunglasses, a stylish short dress and high-heels that elongated her already long legs, she looked like a model. Especially next to Drake who treated her like a porcelain doll. However, there was something strange Sophia could not name.

  Sophia crossed her legs. Immediately, Alistair placed an arm over her shoulders and his free hand came to rest on her thigh. She looked up at him and saw lust in his green depths. He raised an eyebrow and dipped his head to whisper in her ear, “I can’t forget your thong. Want to go upstairs?”

  She gave him a mischievous smile and shook her head. “Behave.”

  “Sophia, have you been to the ESCALA?” Carol asked Sophia.

  Where? “Escala?”

  “The Essex Collection of Art from Latin America,” Tavish said as he sat in the armchair next to Alistair. “It’s nearby at Wivenhoe Park on the grounds of the University of Essex. They have a very interesting collection.”

  “In fact, Tavish Uilleam, it’s the only public collection in Europe that is dedicated to modern and contemporary art from Latin America,” Drake drawled from his place beside Carolina. “Carol is going to play one of the roles in my next movie and she needs to immerse herself in the field.”

  Sophia’s gaze crossed with Felipe’s.

  “I didn’t know that Carol had talent for acting,” Felipe raised his brows.

  “Carolina,” Drake drawled her name sensuously on his tongue fixing his eyes on Felipe’s, “is a woman of many, many hidden talents. It just took me a minute to see she was not valued as she should be.”

  Really? Sophia put her hand over Felipe’s fisted one.

  Carolina looked at her fiancé with adoration in her eyes. She entwined her fingers in his and told Sophia, “Drake is a dear.”

  “How about you, Sophia?” The Californian film director raked his gaze over Sophia. “You could play the supporting character.”

  “Thank—” She was interrupted when Alistair’s possessive hand fell from her shoulder to her waist and he yanked her closer.

  “Sophia will only be playing the leading role of my life.” Alistair glared at Drake. “Not a chance I’d share her with anything else. Not even Hollywood.”

  Drake’s eagle eyes sparkled and he licked his lips unpleasantly. “Your loss, Sophia. No man is worth such a sacrifice.”

  Alistair’s angry grunt sprung Sophia into action. She jumped from the sofa. “Vic, Val! Let’s take a walk around the stables. They are amazing!”

  Alice immediately stood up. “Great idea, Sophia.”

  “We are heading to the ESCALA,” said Carolina. “Aren’t we, my love?”

  In his Californian accent, Drake answered Carol without taking his eyes off Sophia and Alistair. “Yeah, we are.”

  Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse

  Monday, August 2, 2010

  9:45 a.m.

  He was feeling too miserable to dispute anything. Since Sophia had told him about her wedding, a strange feeling of doom had descended upon his soul. But somehow he kept on. His business was booming and Barbara had been doing her best to cheer him up.

  The blow of reality had come when he saw Sophia leaving that wretched gallery with a blade sticking out of her soft belly and holding on to Alistair’s hand as if he were her lifeline. His heart broke and he understood in that moment that she was lost to him.

  He felt as if his life had ended.


  He didn’t have any more hope. She was to be married. Ethan knew his heart could only take so much pain. The only thing he could enjoy from Sophia was her friendship. He’d rather have that than nothing.

  “So, sir, how much are you going to give her foundation as a wedding gift?” Scott smiled, gently calling Ethan’s attention back to him.

  I don’t care. Everything I have is hers. “Call Mrs. Chanda. See what’s the average donation and double it. Think about a few lines for the card. I don’t have the heart to do it.” His eyes roamed around his soulless home. As empty as his life was now. He had everything money could buy, but he didn’t have what he wanted most: Sophia’s love. His eyes stopped on the Francis Bacon. He remembered she said she loved his paintings on the first night they made love and when they went to Tate Modern together. “Scott.”

  “Sir?”

  “Call White Cube. See if they have someone that could take the Francis Bacon down and wrap it. Send it to her house as my wedding present. Today.”

  “Sir…” Scott’s mouth dropped open. He knew Ethan loved the tortured painting more than any other in his apartment. Besides, it was worth a fortune. “The Francis Bacon?! But-but—”

  “No buts, Scott,” Ethan sipped his coffee. “She loves Bacon’s paintings.”

  Scott was flabbergasted by the whole scene. He had never seen Ethan having breakfast in his pajamas, with his sun-kissed hair tousled from sleep, unshaved, no light in his azure eyes. It pained him to see his boss so down and disheartened. He knew Barbara had been sleeping in the guest room. Alone.

  “I want her to have something that will remind her of me. Something personal.” This way, at least, she’s going to think of me every day.

  “It’s not that simple,” Scott answered. “He doesn’t want to go ahead with the plan anymore.”

  “Simple? No. Doable? Yes,” replied Ghost’s computerized voice. “And, what is best: it would not cost much. Can you imagine how he would feel with her beside him? How grateful he is going to be?”

  “I don’t know…” Scott ran the back of his hand over his forehead.

  Scott would do anything to see the smile back on the face of the proud man who had showed him only kindness. However, to act behind his back and against his wishes could have terrible consequences.

  “It’s not magical or anything. No one will ever know how we did it. MacCraig’s sister-in-law is bent on revenge. We can use her and then put all the blame on her.”

  Scott scratched his head, not sure of what to answer. “Mr. Ashford loves her. He’ll be furious if she is hurt or humiliated.”

  “I can guarantee her honor would not be touched, if this is your fear. In the end, the fault would be MacCraig’s or Miller’s.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. Did I ever disappoint you?” Ghost smiled as he heard Scott’s sigh and his negative response. “Great. Hear me out.”

  Scott sat more comfortably on his chair, praying he was doing the right thing and said, “I’m all ears.”

  Chapter 25

  Airgead Caisteal

  Friday, August 6, 2010

  7:02 p.m.

  Tomorrow.

  Tomorrow, she will be mine. Mine and no one else’s. No Davidoff, Ashford, Westwood, not even Leibowitz. She will be a MacCraig. He breathed in the fresh air and looked around.

  The amorphous chaos by the loch had taken the shape of a tall pavilion that ended in an incredible chapel, which looked like it was made of crystal. The Santo family had a creative vein he never could have imagined from Sophia’s line of work. Everything they created was different, classy, and dashing. From the stationary to the dresses. He was sure the guests would be surprised tomorrow.

  Alistair shook his head, amused, as he sat in one of the acrylic chairs and watched Jeff Leatham, with a white rose between his teeth, dance and laugh with Valentina and Victoria.

  He turned his head as he heard Sophia’s musical laughter. She was still wearing the riding gear she had ordered for the tournament that his father had held at Craigdale Castle in their honor. Her daring redingote was made in the MacCraig’s tartan colors: red and yellow thin lines crossed with the brightest-green and midnight-blue large lines. She was happily showing the world she was to be his.

  Still, he was unsure. Still, he couldn’t believe it.

  Tavish and Sophia, arm in arm, walked down the stairs and made their way onto the catwalk covered with Persian rugs over a wide white carpet, which started at the last step and ended at the entrance of the chapel.

  Jealousy elbowed its way into Alistair’s heart and he squinted at the handsome couple his brother and his fiancée made. Tavish had been around Sophia more and more since her stabbing. He would fit her better; he doesn’t have my past; he could give her children. Perhaps it’s another MacCraig she wants. And perhaps…another MacCraig wants her too.

  He looked away, reasoning with himself. Stop this, Alistair Connor. You should be grateful that Sophia is adored by your family and that she’s not another Heather.

  A soft hand on his shoulder made him raise his head, lines still creasing his forehead. He could see the joy shining inside those light-brown eyes he loved so much and he prayed the joy was because of him.

  “I was looking for you,” she said, straddling the chair in front of him.

  “Here I am.” He smiled at her and scooted to the edge of his chair to kiss her. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Tavish had walked to where the twins were.

  “I have a proposal,” she said, after he broke the kiss. “We—I want us to sleep separately tonight.”

  What? He looked at her speechless. Why?

  “It—It may sound strange but…it’s just that—Oh! Dammit! I want to surprise you tomorrow. I want you—”

  “Nae.”

  “No?” she looked at him quizzically. “Why not?”

  Because I’m unsure and I want you near me. I need you. “Nobody has ever told you nae?” He raised an eyebrow and his poker-face mask descended over him.

  Oh, yeah. You, included. “But it’s such an innocent request. It won’t hurt—”

  He stood up and held out his hand for her. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”

  She watched his face as they walked away from the hubbub in silence and entered the maze by the Sequoia Alley.

  They came to a bench and sat down.

  Sophia could hear the delightful squeals of Gabriela, Ariadne, and the other children who had come with their parents to her wedding. “Gabriela is loving all this activity.”

  “Aye,” he answered curtly.

  Sophia looked at him. There it is again. That unnerving unreadable mask. She rolled her eyes heavenward. Sophia, don’t you think it’s time to stop this? She stood up and moved in front of him. That’s enough. She bent down, put her hands on his knees, and looking deep into his eyes, scolded, “Stop. Stop that right now. We are getting married tomorrow for better and for worse. Wipe that mask off your face and tell me what you are feeling.” She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, tapping her foot on the ground, “Right now, Alistair Connor.”

  He didn’t know if he should laugh or scowl back at her. On impulse, he snaked his arms around her waist and brought her flush against him, burrowing his nose in her breasts. White roses, orange blossoms and vanilla. This is my apple a day.

  “Hey,” she whispered, dipping her fingers in his long hair, combing it. “What is it?”

  Alistair raised his head to look at her, and for a shimmering moment, Sophia thought she saw fear in those forest-green eyes.

  She caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs and traced his lips. “Talk to me.”

  Do you love me? Will I be able to make you happy? But his fears seemed too ridiculous to be voiced and he just shook his head, incapable of understanding himself.

  But she knew him already. “I love you, you know? I know I don’t say it much. It’s so overwhelming that I don’t want to trivialize what I’m feeling. Sometimes, s
ilence says more than words.”

  He kept his eyelids lowered, his long black lashes shadowing his cheekbones.

  “Alistair Connor. Look at me,” she perched sideways on his thigh when he raised his head again. “You can trust me with your feelings.”

  He sighed deeply and his lips curled in a self-deprecating grimace. “Jittery bridal nerves.”

  Oh. Cute. She smiled, endeared. “Really?”

  “Aye,” he nodded. “Don’t ask me to sleep away from you. No’ tonight. I need you.”

  She gazed at his eyes, which could communicate so many emotions when he let them, and agreed, “It will be as you wish, Alistair Connor.”

  “Sophia. Forever will be not enough to show you how much I love you,” he whispered before kissing her with fervent passion. He realized that his stomach was tied in knots.

  She shifted, looking for a more comfortable position and he made her straddle him without breaking the kiss.

  “I knew you were her Prince Charming!”

  Gabriela’s voice reached them through a thick fog of lust and they sprang apart.

  Alistair’s hands on her waist stopped her from falling on her butt and he guided her onto the bench beside him.

  Sophia looked at him, asking for help. However, he seemed on the verge of laughing.

  Gabriela threw herself on her mother’s legs. “It’s sooo romantic, Mama.”

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Kids are too advanced for their ages nowadays. Alistair thinned his lips to impede his bubbling amazement.

  Oh, God! Struggling with her own laughter, Sophia picked Gabriela up in her arms, setting her on her lap. “Do you think so, Angel?”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” The little girl united her hands and entwined her fingers, her blue eyes looking dreamingly at her mother. “Soooo romantic.” Gabriela beamed at Alistair. “Just like in Beauty and the Beast.”

  Oh, no. Not that Beast again. Alistair crossed his arms over his chest and growled at the child, “I am. Not. The beast.”