Food forgotten, he lifted her hand to his lips, smothering the slender fingers with feather-light kisses, and saw her face go white, her mouth twist with pain as if she’d been dealt a mortal blow.
Bess dragged her hand away from the drugging pleasure of his lips, reality sending her hurtling into cold despair. He only had to touch her to make her lose all sense of decency, a helpless victim of her tortured needs.
‘Don’t do this to me,’ she pleaded thinly, sitting very upright, very rigid, consciously holding herself together because she was desperately afraid of going to pieces. ‘You make me hate myself.’
‘Why?’ He looked at the end of his tether, his patience only kept by an immense effort of will. ‘Is the way we feel about each other—wanting each other—something to be ashamed of?’
She dragged a sharp breath through her nostrils. ‘You won’t defeat me with that kind of logic,’ she told him rawly. ‘You disgust me almost as much as I disgust myself. I can’t stop you cheating on Helen in the future, but it won’t be with me.’ She glared into his frowning eyes, recognising the question mark in the silver depths. ‘Never again. Marry her, if that’s what you want. But I never want to have to see you again.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘THIS is intolerable!’
Even though Bess had already made a move to leave he was on his feet before her. Their waiter came gliding up immediately, as if he were on supersonic castors, and Bess, willing her legs to stop shaking, waited for the small moments it took for Luke to assure the anxious man that there was nothing wrong with the food or the ambience, apologise, settle the bill in full and sweep her out, only the inescapable grip of his hand on her arm keeping her upright.
Thankfully, a taxi had just drawn up, disgorging elegantly dressed passengers who disappeared into the restaurant, talking together in low voices. Bess, hovering between plain old-fashioned hysteria and gut-wrenching misery, hoped these people would stay long enough to eat the meal they ordered.
Wrenching free, she darted forward and gave the office address to the driver.
‘Cancel that,’ Luke instructed bitingly from right behind her, hustling her inside and naming a street in Little Venice.
‘I don’t want—’ she spat out contemptuously, but he cut her off, turning to her as the vehicle drew out into the traffic, his eyes glittering darkly.
‘At this moment I don’t give a damn what you want—or think you want. What I need, what we both need, is a little time, a little privacy.’ He settled back in his seat, giving her a look that dared her to argue. ‘You’ve obviously got a few wires crossed. And we’re going to have to straighten them out.’ He angled himself into the corner, pinning her with his eyes. ‘To begin with, what gave you the idea I wanted to marry Helen? I have no intention of doing any such thing, believe me.’
‘Does she know that?’ she snapped at him. Who did he think he was lying to? She knew what she knew, didn’t she? Only last night her mother had been going on about the logistics of preparing for a glittering wedding!
‘I would imagine the thought has never entered her head,’ he responded, almost lightly. ‘And when we arrive at my home you can tell me why it entered yours. And while we’re getting there try to relax; take a few deep breaths. I don’t make love to unconscious women, and you look about to pass out.’
She wanted to tell him he wasn’t funny, that lovemaking—oh, heaven forbid!—wasn’t something to make jokes about. But she did feel peculiar; she could almost feel the pallor in her face. She pressed her fingers to her eyes and began to shake. Was he telling the truth, or just being unspeakably cruel?
The breeze from the canal revived her as they reached their destination and exited the cab. It feathered through her hair and trickled over her skin, cooling her.
‘This is where you live?’ she asked, simply for something to say. She couldn’t yet bring herself to grapple with the implications of what he’d told her on the journey. She needed a little more time to get her head straight.
He looked around him, as if surprised by her question, his glance encompassing the quiet, treelined street, the stately, white painted mini-mansion which faced the Regent’s Canal, magnolias in full bloom, willows bending gracefully over the water, black swans and colourful barges. He shrugged.
‘Little Venice. When I am in London, yes, this is where I live.’ He took her arm, glancing down at her. ‘It’s a place to be. Well-mannered. My mother approves of my London address, if nothing else.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘For myself, I would prefer...’
He allowed his preferences to hang on the air, as if for the moment they were unimportant. And as he escorted her towards the porticoed entrance Bess supplied ‘Tuscany’ in her mind—a word which immediately conjured up images of villages perched on the top of cypress-covered hills, old terraced olive groves disappearing into the hot, shimmering blue haze, craggy mountaintops where the warm wind carried the scent of a thousand herbs.
Horribly, she wanted to cry. She knew so much about this complicated man, and yet she knew so very little. Almost nothing.
‘Fortunately, it’s my housekeeper’s day off. We’ll have all the privacy we need,’ he told her as he opened the panelled front door. Wordlessly, he swept her through the dignified entrance hall, pushing open a door and standing back for her to enter.
Bess shuddered. She didn’t think privacy was a good idea where she and this man were concerned. She looked round the room with awe. Furnished with restrained elegance, it had massive French windows which opened onto a terrace above a sweep of closely manicured lawn which, in turn, was surrounded by tall trees.
A silent, secluded place. She gave another involuntary shudder, watching as he restlessly paced the gleaming parquet, scuffing up a rug that looked priceless, loosening his navy silk tie with one hand, opening the French windows with the other.
‘Outside, in the sun,’ he commanded tersely, shrugging out of his suit jacket and draping it casually, along with his tie, over the back of a chair, then extending his hand towards her.
She ignored it, her heart hammering painfully as she demanded, ‘Were you telling the truth? Are you trying to tell me you won’t be marrying my sister?’
‘Outside,’ he repeated, but this time there was a smile in his eyes. ‘You get the most extraordinary ideas.’ He walked out onto the terrace. Bess followed as if pulled by an invisible string. Was he lying? Or what? And what would be the point of lying if the truth were to be made very public indeed in a matter of weeks?
‘Why should I be marrying Helen? Admittedly, she’s a beautiful creature, and sparkling company, but I’ve been down that road once, and I’ve no intention of going down it again. Shall we sit?’
A group of padded loungers were angled around a low table at the far end of the terrace, and as she made her way towards them she noted the profusion of flowering geraniums in white stone containers. Was their strong, spicy scent responsible for the wave of giddiness that washed over her, or was it simply confusion, the sudden washing away of guilt, the sudden hope—?
She smacked that down.
‘Everyone knows you and Helen are to marry—in four weeks’ time,’ she told him thickly, needing to hear him contradict her again because what he had told her, emphatically told her, didn’t make sense.
‘Name one person,’ he challenged, lounging back, a flicker of a smile playing over his mouth, the glint in his eyes positively lethal.
No one had ever come out and told her, not in so many words—but then Jessica had said it was supposed to be a huge secret.
‘She has never, ever taken a man-friend home to introduce him to the family,’ she defended. ‘Let alone invited one to stay for the weekend.’ That was what had started wedding bells clanging in Jessica’s head.
‘And she’s not working. Apart from a couple of trips to London, apparently, and the short trip to Italy, she’s been living at home since the weekend you spent there with her. And that’s unheard of. Since she landed her first
assignment her career’s meant more than anything to her. Getting her to relax, take a breather, was always impossible. Yet it’s been weeks—’
‘On that flimsy evidence you decided she was to be the second Mrs Luke Vaccari?’ he scorned, and put like that it did sound stupid.
But Bess rose to the occasion, pointing out, ‘You told me yourself she was busy choosing a wedding dress—weeks ago. And I heard her ask you if twelve bridesmaids would be over the top. You told her you didn’t mind—it would be her big day, after all. And only last night I was talking to Mum—she told me how busy she and Helen were—ordering flowers, finalising the guest list—that sort of stuff.’
How could he deny the facts? She dropped her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? How could she love a man who was not only promiscuous but also an unprincipled liar? She’d thought she knew herself, but patently she didn’t.
‘Poor baby!’ She felt his hands on her arms, pulling her to her feet. ‘I can see how the misunderstanding must have happened. You must have felt so guilty—making love with the man you believed was about to marry your sister. And what kind of louse would it have made me seem?’
She heard the gentle regret in his voice. It sounded so genuine that she was stunned, unable to resist when he eased her back onto the seat. He sat on the table in front of her, and she dragged her gaze from the warmth of his eyes because he was making her melt inside, willing to believe anything he said, and she mustn’t let herself be that foolish.
‘We have to get this out of the way, put your mind at rest before we can move on,’ he told her, and she didn’t have time to examine what he meant by moving on because he was explaining, ‘As for my relationship with Helen, well, it was the usual sort of thing. We were introduced at a promotional party. My company financed the development of the product and Helen was there as the face that dominated the advertising campaigns. And, as she’d be the first to point out, she can be utterly be-witching, totally irresistible when she wants to be.
‘Don’t—’ He raised his hand to ease away the frown of sharp distaste that had gathered between her eyes, and there was an edge to his honey-dark voice now. ‘These things happen.’ He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘God, you’re such an innocent! So innocent it hurts.’
She twisted her head away, her frown deepening. She had lost what innocence she’d had. He had seen to that.
‘That tells me nothing,‘ she said thinly. ‘Simply explains your initial relationship.’ But did it? Had he and Helen been lovers? It sounded very much like it. ‘These things happen,’ he had said. And Helen’s attitude towards him had been definitely proprietorial.
He ignored her waspish retort and continued steadily. ‘She wanted my financial backing and set out to convince me of the viability of her project. She has savings of her own, and your father’s willing to help out. But she needed more to get the business off to a flying start.
‘Wisely, she’s making a career change before she has one foisted on her—bowing out gracefully while she’s still on top. A wedding boutique in Mayfair—she aims to sell designs by Europe’s newest young talents. Not only bridal gowns but accessories, and bridesmaids’ dresses, designer labels for the mother of the bride.
‘It’s due to open in around four weeks, and she’s making a big event of it. There’s going to be a catwalk show—hence her question about the number of bridesmaids’ dresses to be modelled—plus a champagne reception for invited names, photographers, journalists—the lot. The organising of which is what is probably tying her and your mother up in knots right now.
‘I accepted her invitation that weekend because it seemed as good an opportunity as any to talk business not only with Helen but also with your father, and when I left the women were up to their ears in design portfolios.’
His heart jerked as he saw the sudden flare of joy in her eyes, but there was more to tell her, a whole lot more. But first...
‘You’re not wearing your ring.’ His mouth curved slightly but his eyes were serious. ‘Lost it again?’
‘I—’ Bess ran her tongue over his lips. That smile of his made her feel as if she’d been run over by a bus, her stomach behaving as if she were on a giant roller coaster ride, nerves fluttering, pulses racing, everything inside her going haywire because she knew the truth now, and he’d said he’d missed her, and they were free to see if they had something to build on. ‘I can’t marry Tom.’
‘How did he take it?’ She didn’t seem too sure of her decision. Her hesitation told him that.
And his suspicion was confirmed when she answered quickly, ‘I haven’t broken the news yet.’ Then, suddenly, she said decisively, ‘I’ll go to see him on Sunday. Give him back his ring.’
‘Good,’ he said heavily. His eyes were bleak and Bess, unhappy, puzzled at the change of mood, asked quickly, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I want to make love to you, that’s what’s wrong.’ He levered himself to his feet. His face was set. ‘So much so, I don’t know if I can handle it.’
‘You could before,’ she reminded him unsteadily, and saw his eyes close briefly, his lips clamp together, before he gave her a hard, dark look.
‘That shouldn’t have happened. I’m not proud of it. But it seems,’ he added drily, ‘I have precious little control where you’re concerned. The life you had led, your vulnerability—your very innocence—put you out of bounds. Or should have done. The blame for what happened that night is entirely mine.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said firmly. She had to be firm or she would go to pieces. Would she ever understand this man?
‘You will.’ He faced her squarely. ‘When I tell you what I’ve got in mind, you’ll understand. And that’s what I’m afraid of,’ he said tightly. He swung away. ‘Neither of us ate lunch. I’ll find something—a little food, a little wine.’
He had no desire to eat, but he’d try anything to defuse the situation. It was explosive. He wanted her so badly. Memories of how they’d been together had been driving him wild for weeks.
‘I’m not hungry.’ Or only for him, she added silently. And desperate to clear the confusion from her mind. He’d dispelled her belief that he and Helen were to marry with a few words of explanation, wiped away the guilt she’d been burdened with for weeks, and that on its own was enough to scramble her brain.
But the way he was acting, almost as if he disliked her, hinting at something unimaginable, confessing that he was disgusted with himself for what had happened that night, was unendurable.
She couldn’t take much more, and didn’t know why he’d brought her here, if that was the way he felt.
‘If you have something to say to me, say it. Then I’ll leave. You obviously regret bringing me here.’
‘Leave?’ Hard hands cupped her face, the burning intensity of his eyes daring her to look away. ‘You haunt my mind, torment me!’ he said explosively. ‘You don’t walk away from me, not ever again!’
Then, just as quickly, he released her, gathering control, his eyes self-mocking as he invited, ‘Sit down. This might take some time.’ He watched her as she sank back on the lounger. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. Hers was not the brittle, glittering beauty of her sister but a loveliness that went soul-deep.
And what he had to say to her was brutal. And yet he couldn’t deny it. He didn’t like himself right now.
‘Bess...’ He wasn’t going to dress this up. ‘I want you, and I know you want me. We were, very briefly, lovers. It wasn’t something we went into lightly—for both of us, for different reasons, it was anguished, driven by a passion, a need neither of us could deny.’
‘Lovers...’ She picked the word out and examined it nervously. The love had been—still was—all on her side. He’d put what had happened between them down on the level of lust.
He sat down on the low table, leaning forward slightly, his hands hanging loosely between his legs. ‘Yes, lovers. And I’d like that to continue. For you, the objections seem to be out of the
way. You no longer want to marry Tom—at least that’s what you’re saying now—and you know my relationship with Helen is purely business. But mine—’ he spread his hands then relaxed them again ‘—still exist. It is for you to tell me they’re valid. Or not. Whatever you decide.’
‘And they are?’ Suddenly she felt afraid. Afraid of the depth of her passion for this man, a depth she could so easily drown in. Afraid of the most clinical way he had told her he wanted her.
He didn’t answer her directly, telling her instead, ‘I sympathised with you before I met you. Helen was too engrossed in herself to talk much about her family, but when she did it was of your parents, and with affection. You she dismissed. I wonder if she knew you could be more desirable than she? That, once awakened to your true potential as a woman, you would eclipse her? Did she dance at your engagement party because once you were safely married to the estimable Tom she knew you would never be awakened, never threaten her?
‘Whatever—’ he gave her a wry smile ‘—when I saw you, I saw waste. And set out to do something about it. I meddled—which, believe it or not, is something I’ve never felt the need to do before. And succeeded too well. I watched you, saw the transformation, and wanted you like hell. And, despite telling myself you deserve better than an affair, that is what I’m offering you.’
He heard the sudden intake of her breath and held her eyes with his grim determination to force her to understand.
‘I want you. But I won’t denigrate our passion, our needs by having a hole-and-corner affair.’ His nostrils flared with distaste. ‘Having you phone me when your flatmate’s out, or you sneaking over here on my housekeeper’s day off, the odd snatched weekend at some anonymous hotel.’
His silver eyes bored sharply into the green depths of hers. ‘Do you understand? I can offer you no long-term commitment, no guarantees, but I want you to move in here with me, live with me openly. I will not have either of us act as if our needs are something to be ashamed of.
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