Passionate Awakening

by Diana Hamilton

  'But I don't really know you,' she murmured, drowning in sensation. Not knowing him didn't really matter at all, not now. She had changed out of recognition, was prepared, as never before, to base her whole existence on love, to trust her emotions.

  'Then we'll have fun learning about each other, won't we?' he suggested, scooping her up in his arms as the incoming tide crept around their melded hips. Carrying her, held close to his body, he lovingly laid her down on the warm sand, drinking in every exposed inch of her body with heated eyes.

  Annie stretched luxuriously, unashamedly, her movements sensual, languid, watching him watching her as, with a few economical movements he removed his own clothing and she was filled with a strange wild ecstasy as she drank in the pagan magnificence of his superb male body.

  Then he was beside her, his fingers tantalisingly slow as he removed the tiny scraps of fabric that partially covered her aching breasts. Then, slowly, he lowered his head, taking one hardened peak between his lips, his hands moulding her hips to the hard maleness of his, making her mindless with longing.

  She whispered his name as his body covered her and he said rawly, 'Annie, I love you,' and the wonder of those words, the touch of the hair-roughened bronze satin of his skin, set her on fire.

  Arching her body to his, she responded wildly, lost in the hot, sweet urgency of a desire she could no longer control or deny, a desire she now welcomed without reservation.

  His breathing was deep, ragged, and her hands reached up, her fingers twining through his dark hair before languorously moving down over his shoulders, over the tight skin of his back, his rib-cage, getting to know the shape of him, the feel of him. And, hungrily, his lips took hers, took her breasts, moving wildly, relentlessly, as if he wanted to devour the whole of her, one hand sliding along the heated silk of her thighs to effortlessly remove the tiny triangle of fabric that was the only barrier remaining between them.

  'You're no longer afraid of love?' It was not exactly a question, more a statement, because he had to know now, after the ecstatic way she had followed him to the delirious heights of loving, that, for her, fear of unfettered emotion, of her own sexuality, was a thing of the past. Hadn't she, over the past overwhelmingly beautiful hour, shown him as much?

  Wordlessly affirming what he already knew, she nuzzled her rumpled head into the crook of his shoulder as they walked slowly towards the villa. One strong arm held her possessively against his side, their bodies, where they touched, seeming to fuse.

  Annie trailed the towel from one languid hand, unashamed now of the near nudity of her body.

  She wondered how she could bear to be apart from Luke, even for the one night he had grudgingly conceded she must spend with Willa.

  They had arranged that she would drive him to the village where he would find a room at one of the hotels, and then she would—with difficulty, she knew—return to the villa to do her duty at the wretched party her mother had decided to give. And tomorrow she would join him and they'd make plans. What those plans would entail he hadn't said and she didn't know. How far into the future he was looking was something she didn't dare to think about. But he had said he loved her and that was all she needed to know.

  They were nearing the house, their footsteps growing slower as if both of them would delay the separation, however brief it was to be, and Annie asked, 'That yours?' meaning the single suitcase on the gravel sweep in front of the villa. She wondered if Griff had arrived, a full day earlier than he'd said he would.

  'Uh huh,' Luke confirmed. 'I always travel light, but this time I threw enough gear together to last me for what might have turned out to be a protracted tour of Europe in search of a shapely, redheaded, stubborn female.' His hand tightened on the naked flesh of her slender waist. 'I dropped it where I stood when a large, dour woman told me you'd gone down to the beach.'

  'That would have been Nora.' Annie smiled up into his eyes. 'She's Willa's minder. And tell me, how did you know where to find me?' It had seemed like a miracle when he had appeared on the beach and, as if she couldn't yet get to grips with the reality, she needed to have it explained.

  'Easy. Joan told me.' His voice roughened as if he were in pain. 'When I realised you'd gone, without so much as saying goodbye, I nearly went out of my mind. It was as much as Norman could do to speak to me at all, let alone tell me where I could find you. But Joan took pity and came to my room while I was packing. She told me you'd broken your engagement and gone to your mother's. I guess that lady—Nora, did you say?— thought I was out of my head when I just dropped everything and ran for the beach. I hadn't hoped that things would turn out to be so easy!'

  As if on cue, Nora appeared between the marble pillars flanking the main door.

  'Willa wants to know if your fiancé would like to make use of the villa while he's here?' she said to Annie, her eyes openly assessing Luke's undeniably charismatic person.

  Annie opened her mouth to deny the natural mistake, but Luke stepped forward, introducing himself, extending his hand, and Nora, to Annie's amusement, actually blushed when her own hand was swallowed by his.

  'I'd be delighted to stay,' he said, smiling wickedly over his shoulder at Annie, leaving her in no doubt that he found Nora's mistake amusing and that he relished the opportunity for the two of them to spend more time together. He probably wondered why she hadn't made the offer herself, and she couldn't have explained why she hadn't, not in words that would have made much sense.

  As Luke bent to pick up his abandoned suitcase a slight movement overhead caught Annie's eyes. Looking up, she saw the corner of a bedroom curtain drop back into place by the scarlet-tipped hand of a secret observer. Willa.

  It was ridiculous to be feeling so apprehensive, Annie nagged at herself as she took a hurried shower. Willa had obviously been spying on them as they'd walked up from the beach, the time they had taken giving her ample opportunity to send Nora down with that message. But what of it? she mentally chided herself. It was only a natural interest in the man she mistakenly believed to be her daughter's fiancé.

  But how interested was Willa? And what direction would that interest take?

  Pushing the grumbling thoughts aside, Annie towelled herself dry. Luke had said he loved her and Luke wasn't another Hernando—besides, she was older now, more sure of herself. She could handle Willa!

  Reassuring herself, she recalled how, when Nora had offered to take Luke to his room, she had mentioned that Willa wanted to see her. Annie had been expecting the third degree, but Willa had only mentioned Luke once, and that, as it were, in passing, saying in a barely interested tone, 'It's as well I happened to be sitting in my window when your fiancé arrived. Nora tells me he was going to take a room in the village. He'd have gone away with a poor opinion of my hospitality.'

  She had gone on to ask Annie whether she should wear the blue or the grey, both simple, understatedly elegant dresses, and Annie had said, 'The blue. The colour suits you so well.' And Willa had agreed, smiling, no frost in her eyes now, leaving Annie to wonder if her mother was really herself again, because she always made sure she shone brilliantly at any social gathering, and she wouldn't do that in either of the dresses she had picked out of her lavish wardrobe.

  And for a moment Annie had hugged her, wanting to give her some reassurance because, just for a while, Willa had looked like a lost kitten. Amazingly, her mother hadn't pushed her away as she always had done in the past when Annie had tried to show affection, and that gave her even more reason to hope that things would be different this time. If she had changed during the past seven years, then so had Willa.

  She hadn't bothered to correct the mistaken assumption that Luke was the fiancé Annie had mentioned in her last letter. The difference in the names had obviously not struck Willa yet, and the whole tangled story would take too long to tell, especially as her mother was anxious to get herself ready for when her guests arrived.

  Fortunately, the dress Annie had picked out, almost at random from the rails
in the boutique, suited her. Had she known that Luke would be arriving out of the blue she would have gone to endless trouble and probably still not bettered this one—the first dress in her size she had come across.

  The turquoise chiffon flattered her vivid hair and creamy skin, and the scoop-necked bodice, held by a couple of narrow straps, fitted sleekly at the waist and hips and made the most of her slender yet curvy figure.

  The simple style of the dress needed no ornamentation, and that was just as well, since she had left the few pieces she did possess back at The Laurels. And it was just as well that Willa had decided to dress simply tonight. If the star had elected to pull out all the stops, then she, Annie, would have been well and truly eclipsed!

  Tonight was to be a simple affair all round, she reassured herself. Just a few of Willa's friends, all of them British expatriates who had made permanent homes in Capri. It would be nothing like Willa's wilder parties, the sort which had made Annie squirm in the old days. Nothing at all to feel apprehensive about.

  'Darling! You look fabulous! Utterly divine, as always! We'd heard such worrying rumours about you—' The high-pitched voice shrilled from the open salon doors and reverberated around the spacious hallway.

  Annie, reaching the bottom step of the curving staircase, recognised Jacinth's voice and smiled wryly to herself. The permanent Brits on the island formed a colony of sorts, and the rumours of Willa's collapse after being thrown over by her toy boy would have been bouncing back and forth among the section who formed Willa's circle, growing more outrageous with each repetition.

  Willa, astute as she was, had invited the linchpins along tonight to prove she was as vital as ever, totally unconcerned by the departure of whatever-his-name-had-been! Annie had to admire her.

  She would look gracious and sophisticated in the blue cocktail dress—a touch subdued, perhaps— but even so, the very antithesis of the slightly deranged, insecure middle-aged woman of a couple of days ago.

  Willa had disappeared somewhere but all the guests had arrived, Annie noted as she walked into the salon, her heart flipping and flopping like a landed fish as she spied Luke at the opposite end of the long room. He looked breathtakingly handsome in a superbly cut white dinner-jacket and narrow black trousers and she was on her way to join him, greeting her mother's guests pleasantly— although she could neither like nor respect them— when she was accosted.

  'Annie, dear thing—I swear you're all grown up at last!' This was Jacinth again, overbearing, over-bright, dressed in a plum-coloured and gold caftan, and drawing in tow her languid third husband, a retired interior designer. 'We've all been so worried about darling Willa—quite incommunicado for positively weeks, and rumours about her health flying around like bats!'

  Green eyes glittered maliciously and Willa, emerging from an alcove, cut in lightly, 'So naughty of me to worry you all! But, as you see, I'm bursting with disgustingly rude health! I've simply been selfishly spoiling myself and indulging in a lovely long rest!'

  Every head turned, as Willa had intended, and she stretched out her hands, her beautiful, world-famous smile pinned to her face.

  The sober blue dress was nowhere to be seen. Willa wore—or almost wore—sleek black satin that might have been moulded to her willowy shape, the halter neckline leaving her back bare, only partially covering milky-white breasts. There were diamonds cascading from her throat and wrists, practically dripping from her fingers, and the silver-blonde candyfloss hair was entrancingly piled on top of her head, a few tendrils escaping to tease her perfect, piquant face and the slender grace of her long, long neck.

  From then on the party became something of a nightmare, a recurring nightmare, and Annie could only stand and watch as the replay began.

  She had been there before, she had watched the enticing flick of those big brown eyes, the tilt of that beautiful head, the slow drift of impossibly long dark lashes, the inviting smile, the cat-like flick of the tip of a pointed tongue over glossy scarlet lips. She had witnessed Willa give this performance with a dozen different men, and one of them had been Hernando. This time it was Luke.

  But this time things were different, she assured herself robustly. Luke loved her, he had said so, and even if he hadn't then his lovemaking, on the sun-warmed sands, would have left her in no doubt. Willa's captivating wiles wouldn't mean a thing to him, and she herself would go and rescue him as soon as she could!

  But to her annoyance she found herself surrounded by most of her mother's guests, a dozen people managing to seem like a hundred. It was almost as though they were in collusion with the glittering actress, giving her all the space she needed. She had pinned Luke down in a far corner of the huge room and he was apparently well content with the situation, listening as if spellbound to Willa's obviously sparkling conversation!

  Annie banked down the absurd little fires of jealousy and responded as well she could to the questions being lobbed at her from all directions. These people had known her from her schooldays, more used to seeing her as a gangling child hovering in the background. The new Annie, after an absence of seven years, was obviously an eye-opener, and she found that she was being swamped with champagne—the only drink Willa would serve—as her glass was topped up again and again.

  As soon as she'd eaten some of the abundant and delicious food she would rescue Luke, she promised herself, trying to edge away from the group without seeming rude. Willa, in this mood and dressed to kill, was totally irresistible. Annie had had too much evidence of this over the years to doubt it now, and although she was far more sure of herself these days she wasn't about to tempt fate!

  'So that delicious hunk is your fiancé?' Liz Landor, a watercolourist of remarkable talent and no scruples, enquired breathily as her current escort held a lighter to her thin black cheroot. 'I'd watch it, if I were you, sweetie.' She inhaled deeply and her hoarse voice caught on a snigger. 'We all know no man can resist the divine Willa Kennedy's attentions, and we wouldn't want to see poor little Annie's nose put of out joint again!'

  It was a direct reference to the shameful Hernando episode and Annie didn't want publicly reminding of that, thank you very much! Nor did she want her attention drawn to the big seduction scene being so cleverly enacted by her incomparable parent at the other end of the room. She was already too aware of every nuance of that patently scintillating conversation, of every flicker of expertly projected body language, of every movement, every speaking gesture.

  But what had happened between her mother and Hernando had happened seven years ago and Annie, drawing herself to her full height, her magnificent eyes glittering with determination, said in deceptively dulcet tones, 'Why don't you all help yourselves to food? I really must go and rescue Luke. I suspect Willa no longer recognises when she's boring the socks off a guy!'

  'So long as she only bores his sock off!' Jacinth sniggered again as Annie walked away, furious colour staining her cheeks. On her way across the room, Annie was aware of a dozen pairs of eyes on her back and she deliberately slowed her hectic pace to set down her empty glass on a side-table after recklessly draining the contents. Her perfect teeth were showing in a fixedly bright smile as she edged herself in front of Willa and placed a slim hand on Luke's arm.

  'Sorry, Mother, but I'm going to drag Luke away now.' She gave him a too-bright glance. 'I want you to see the garden by moonlight, darling.' Turning to Willa, ignoring her hard look of pique, she observed, 'You're completely neglecting your guests, but don't leave it too long before you go to bed— we don't want you overdoing it again, do we?'

  And perhaps that snide remark, coupled with the way she'd separated Willa from her fun, had been a mistake, she thought as she slipped out of the french windows, Luke close behind her. Willa would tolerate such behaviour from no one!

  'Your mother's a fascinating woman. And even more beautiful than she appears on screen.' Luke's appreciative voice came from just behind her.

  'Isn't she just!' she muttered, and tottered along the terraces, headin
g for the rose garden.

  The night was silky warm, the breeze a mere whisper in the tall dark cypresses, the moonlight a silver caress. A night for romance. But Annie wasn't feeling romantic; she was feeling more than a little intoxicated!

  All that carelessly swallowed champagne had left her feeling decidedly odd, she decided as one of her high heels twisted beneath her. She didn't like the feeling of lost control it gave her.

  'Hey!' Luke pulled her gently into his arms, one hand cradling her head against his chest, and she melted weakly against him, the inside of her head whirling round and round. 'What's wrong, Annie? Tell me?'

  Heard through his chest his voice was a deep warm and comforting rumble and she wanted to stay where she was forever. She couldn't possibly tell him she'd been jealous of her own mother! So she groaned against his shoulder, 'Too much champagne!'

  'I noticed.' He held her a little away from him, searching her features with kind eyes, his voice wryly amused as he added, 'You hardly ever drink, do you? But to take too much champagne just once is perfectly excusable. Now, bed for you, sweetheart.'

  With a single gentle movement he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back towards the villa. Annie wound her arms around his neck and wanted to cry. So much for their romantic stroll in the moonlight! She felt very ashamed of herself and of the stupid worm of jealousy that had led her to taking all those drinks without noticing what she was doing.

  She had been stupid to be even the tiniest bit worried over the effect the magnificent Willa Kennedy was having on Luke. If she hadn't watched the star take Hernando from her, she would have viewed her mother's antics with slightly pitying amusement. Besides, Luke loved her. He had made love to her with passion, but with deep tenderness, too, and that had to mean something very positive. And he had told her he loved her and that must have meant something very much more. And, loving him in return, she trusted him. He wouldn't have followed her here if she weren't very special to him. He wouldn't wreck what they had going for each other for the sake of one of the short-lived, tempestuous affairs which Willa considered her right with any man who turned her on!