‘Go to it, Mrs Richardson,’ he said. ‘I’ll grab my things and meet you there.’
After he’d changed swiftly and left her alone, Rhiannon sank onto the bed with her bikini in her hands and her cheeks hot.
Why was she acting like a terrified virgin? she wondered. Not that it was that so much; it was more that she felt as if she were standing at an open doorway looking on to a blank view.
She clicked her tongue exasperatedly and started to shed her clothes.
The bikini was emerald and white, quite accidentally matching the colours of her engagement ring. She put it on and wrapped a gauzy, silvery sarong round her, knotting it between her breasts. She slid her feet into flat silver sandals and drew a deep breath.
The path to the pool led over a suspension bridge that spanned a small ravine with water flowing down it. She paused for a moment to look at the ferns and lush foliage then continued her journey towards the unknown…
Stop it, she commanded herself. You’re being ridiculous!
There was no one in sight at the pool area and only Lee in the pool, lapping it in a strong, even crawl.
She shed her sarong and dived in. The water was warm and silky and she came up and spread her arms luxuriously.
A pair of strong arms slid round her waist from behind and a deep, husky voice said into her ear, ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’
‘We…haven’t?’ she replied after a startled moment.
‘No.’ He trod water and she didn’t have to do anything but lie back against him.
‘But—’ she began.
‘Shhh…’ her captor said. ‘I’m actually a dangerous pirate in disguise with a taste for untraditional sirens, two-legged ones. I’m renowned for capturing them—the longer their legs the better—and taking them away to a distant dark shore, where, by the light of a bonfire, I have my ravishingly seductive way with them before discarding them.’
Rhiannon made a strange little sound in her throat.
‘At least,’ he paused and cupped her breasts, ‘that’s how my wife seems to look upon me. As if, at the very least, I’ve caused an ocean of tears to be shed over
me. You might even say she’s viewing me with deep suspicion.’
Rhiannon bit her lip. ‘Lee…’
Once again his hands moved on her slippery body and she trembled as his fingers slid beneath the elastic of her bikini bottom to cradle her hip. Then he floated backwards, taking her with him until they could stand.
He turned her round in his arms so she was facing him.
Both their heads were sleek and wet, they had droplets on their eyelashes. His upper body was smooth, muscled and tanned whilst hers was curvy and creamy pale.
‘Rhiannon,’ he paused at the same time as he traced the valley between her breasts, ‘we made a commitment, one that I fully intend to keep.’
She stared deeply into his eyes for a long moment and saw that he meant it. Then she sighed a quivering little sigh and said, ‘Would you do me a favour?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you kiss me? I seem to need it rather badly.’
‘By all means.’ He lowered his mouth to hers.
When they finally drew apart, and she got her breath back, she was struck by a
sudden thought. ‘Are we the only two people on the planet?’
‘No. There are other people staying here but I’m reliably informed they’ve gone to Cooktown on a day trip—ah,’ he added, ‘from the sounds I hear, they may be returning.’
‘Would it be a good idea to remove ourselves to a more private place?’
He laughed down into her eyes. ‘You’re full of good ideas, Rhiannon—yes, it would!’
They were laughing as they scrambled out of the pool and fled down the path towards their bure.
They were still laughing and cool and damp but the laughter died as hunger took its place, not for food but each other.
‘It’s been a long four weeks,’ he murmured as he un-clipped her bikini top.
‘Thank you for waiting.’
‘I can’t exactly say my pleasure,’ he looked amused, ‘but sometimes it’s important to get the timing right.’ He drew the top off slowly and dropped it to the floor. ‘Now these,’ he gently stroked her breasts, ‘believe it or not, have almost taken precedence over your legs in my imagination.’
She gasped as he pressed her nipples between his fingers.
‘And I have a very fertile imagination when it comes to you, Rhiannon,’ he added, studying her through half-closed lids.
‘You do?’
‘Mmm…Often at all the wrong moments too. How about you?’ His hands slid down to her hips, pushing her bikini bottom down.
She said unevenly, ‘I have been known to experience a curious ambivalence towards you.’ She wriggled and stepped out of her bikini bottoms. ‘One moment I’ve felt like demolishing you, the next, wishing I was waking up in your bed.’
‘That’s been quite apparent,’ he said gravely. ‘I don’t know how I survived your demolition moments.’
She chuckled. ‘They were actually quite feeble, as you very well know.’
He drew her into his arms and said into her hair, ‘You’re welcome to demolish me right now, as powerfully as you like.’
‘I have a better idea,’ she said softly. ‘I know we don’t have a deserted shore or a bonfire but we could turn on a lamp and you could demonstrate your ravishing seduction technique. I mean to say, I didn’t give you a lot of time to—well, you know what I mean, last time around.’
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. ‘You sure you’re not laughing at me?’
‘Perish the thought.’
‘Very well. Stay right there. I’ll be back in a moment.’
She stayed whilst he moved into the lounge and presently came back with two glasses of champagne. He handed her one and waited while she sipped it, then he tipped some of his over her breasts.
She gasped and gasped again as her nipples exploded with the shock of it and he bent his head and tasted each one in turn. Then he got rid of their glasses and picked her up to lay her on the bed.
‘Turn over,’ he commanded and she rolled onto her stomach obediently with her arms stretched above her head.
He lay down beside her with his head propped on one hand and swept the other down her back in languorous strokes, pausing at the downy hollows above her hips before sculpting the curves of her bottom and tracking through the creases at the tops of her thighs.
‘Oh,’ she breathed as a fire started to build in the pit of her stomach and she moved luxuriously, ‘don’t stop, that’s divine.’
And she parted her legs with a husky little sound that was a mixture of desire and an invitation.
His fingers slipped between her thighs and she felt herself grow warm and wet as the fire in her belly grew.
‘Am I allowed to have any say in this ravishment, because if not it might be too late before—?’
‘Be my guest. If there’s one thing I believe in equality about it’s this.’
She turned over and sat up. ‘Lie still, then. Don’t move a muscle.’ And she eased herself on top of him, having assured herself he was as ready as she was.
‘There.’ She smiled secretively as her body accepted his erection. ‘How about that?’
‘Am I allowed to talk?’
‘No.’ She put her fingers to his lips then ran them through his hair and lifted herself so her nipples were just brushing the hard wall of his chest.
He took a tortured breath and claimed her with ever more powerful thrusts and she received them with mounting excitement then an explosion of sensation…
‘That was even closer than the last time,’ he said, when they came down from the heights. ‘How did I do?’
Rhiannon moved cautiously then laid her cheek on his chest with a sigh of contentment. ‘What you don’t know is that I’m Secretary-General of the Siren’s Union, the two-legged division, that is, come to check you out. N
ot only you but your workplace relations et cetera, et cetera.’
‘Now, that was sneaky,’ he said. ‘You might have let me know.’
‘You…well, I’ll have to think out my report, but I can reassure you I won’t be placing any bans on you at the moment.’
He grinned wickedly then sobered and tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes. ‘No. Really. Are you happy to be married to me now, Rhiannon?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply then looked concerned. ‘I don’t know why I was so—’
‘I do,’ he interrupted. ‘It was a leap into the unknown. You were under enormous pressure but we can make this work. By the way, I’ve got something for you.’ He reached over and pulled open the bedside-table drawer. He took out a long, slim black leather box tooled with gold and handed it to her.
Rhiannon took a breath and pressed the catch with her mind reeling because she’d seen one such box before, on her eighteenth birthday…
It was an exquisite string of Australian South Sea pearls, some of the most sought-after cultured pearls in the world.
She exhaled slowly and lifted the string from its bed of velvet. She knew a bit about pearls and could tell that their lustre, the beauty of light being reflected from the surface of the pearl, was exceptional, so was the white-pink colour and she could feel the perfect synergy—the way the strand draped like a piece of silk. The clasp was eighteen-carat gold, pave-set with white diamonds.
‘Oh, Lee,’ she said huskily, ‘you shouldn’t have. I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything.’ He took the strand from her and put it on her.
‘As soon as I saw them I knew I wouldn’t rest until I gave them their perfect setting. Yes,’ he trailed the strand with his fingers—it came to rest between her breasts, ‘I was right.’
‘Does that mean…?’ She looked at him wide-eyed.
He smiled into her eyes. ‘It means you may wear them at other times, for example when you’re dressed, at your peril.’
Her lips curved. ‘If that means what I think it means I might be safer just wearing them in bed.’
‘Depends what you mean by “safer”.’
She pushed her fingers through his hair. ‘Well, better prepared, then. Thank you so much.’
‘On this occasion,’ he took her in his arms and lay back with her, ‘I can say my pleasure, ma’am.’
Four days later they left the Bloomfield.
Days when they swam, or beach-combed, they fished, but above all they got to know each other better.
Of course, Rhiannon reasoned, while their passion for each other was so white-hot there was not a lot they were going to dislike about each other.
Nor could she ever forget how he’d helped her over the barrier of nerves and whether she’d done the right thing she’d been unable to break through on their wedding day but they did seem to have a lot in common.
Little things. They were both action people, they had the same taste in music, they were cryptic-cross-word fans and had some hilarious times doing them together, including a strip form of the game that was new to Rhiannon and led on to other things…
But all the same, she had moments of—perhaps disbelief was the best way to put it, she thought, and one of them created some tension between them.
She was watching a travel programme on television one evening, in the bedroom, while Lee was talking to George Benson, his PA, on the phone in the lounge.
She was changed and in bed when the programme touched on the French Riviera, and it brought Andrea to mind for Rhiannon in a curious way.
She suddenly remembered Mary’s remark about what Andrea would do with herself up at Southall, anyway, and it seemed to make sense—what would Andrea have done with herself at Southall? Yes, a wonderful home but far removed from the trendiness and glamour of the Riviera for someone who was heavily into fashion.
So why would she want to make it her headquarters?
And why did it activate a deep sense of unease in her she couldn’t explain? Rhiannon wondered. The connection with Southall? That led to the disturbing thought, a thought that grew less comfortable by the day, that she didn’t know if, without that clause in his father’s will, Lee would have married her.
But that didn’t make sense when their honeymoon, at least, was going so well.
Or, she thought with a sense of dread now, was it going too well for her? To the extent that she hated the thought that Lee had had every valid reason for marrying her except the one that mattered most—he hadn’t fallen in love with her…
‘Penny for ‘em?’
She looked up at Lee with a frown. ‘I—No, nothing.’
‘There’s ways and means of getting it out of you, lady,’ he drawled, and joined her on the bed.
‘Lee,’ she sat up and hugged her knees, ‘what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?’
It was his turn to frown. ‘Is that a kind of “I have a headache” non sequitur?’
‘Funnily enough,’ she said slowly, ‘my head doesn’t feel too good at the moment.’
He sat up and stared into her eyes for a long moment. ‘OK,’ he got off the bed, ‘I’ll get you an aspirin and sleep on the couch.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean—’
He shrugged and interrupted her. ‘I’ve got some more calls to make anyway and the couch makes up as a bed.’ He turned away and went through to the bathroom.
Rhiannon stared after him and knew she’d had another door shut in her face. She spent a miserable, uneasy night on her own. Had she asked for it?
In light of her proclamation of independence—how foolish had that been? she asked herself—was she entitled to be disturbed because keeping Andrea out of Southall had been a big part of Lee’s motivation?
And what was hovering on the edge of her mind but refusing to reveal itself?
The next morning, she woke late to find him sitting on the side of the bed with a cup of tea for her.
She stretched, yawned then she remembered and her eyes flew to his face.
‘Feeling better?’ he queried as he set the cup and saucer on the bedside table.
‘I—Yes.’ She bit her lip.
He surveyed her discomfort. ‘It’s OK,’ he said quietly. ‘I suspect I was a bit of a bastard last night. As you once remarked to me, men can have very fragile egos.’
Her eyes softened and she put her hand into his. ‘Not only men.’
‘Well,’ he closed his fingers around hers, ‘we’re off to the Hope Isles today, it looks to be a magnificent day for sailing and they’re something else, but you, my dear, are running a tad late. Think you can shower, dress and have breakfast in half an hour?’
‘Just watch me!’
His lips twisted into a smile. ‘I will, with pleasure.’
They had a wonderful day but when they arrived back at their bure after dinner that night they only got as far as the lounge.
Rhiannon wore an apricot silk halter-neck top with a frothy white skirt and high white strappy sandals. She was also wearing her pearls.
She’d tied her hair back and coaxed some wavy tendrils to frame her face—the high humidity was causing her hair to curl slightly.
She put her silver purse on a chair and stretched—eliciting a strange little growl from Lee.
She eyed him, still with her arms stretched upwards, and he crossed the room in two quick strides and backed her against the wall, pinning her arms above her head with his hands.
‘What?’ she queried.
He wore a white linen shirt with patch pockets and designer jeans. His tan had deepened and his eyes glinted sapphire-blue with dangerous little glints in them.
‘Does the Siren’s Union have a position on upright sex?’
Rhiannon’s eyes widened. ‘You mean…’ She stopped.
‘I mean as in here and now.’
‘Well,’ she paused, ‘I—’
‘Like this.’ He released her arms, but as they sank to her sides his fingers reache
d behind her neck and untied the halter-neck and pulled it down, revealing her breasts. ‘Because if they don’t I’m happy to provide not only a rationale but a demonstration.’
‘Right here? Against this wall?’
‘Yes,’ he said crisply. ‘Starting with the rationale,’ he drew his hands down her body to her waist, ‘I’ve been dying to do this from the moment we sat down to dinner because every time you moved this blasted flimsy silk,’ he took a handful of it and crushed it, ‘has afforded me tantalising but veiled,’ he emphasised the word, ‘outlines that made me lose my appetite.’
‘That sounds—that doesn’t sound good,’ she protested.
‘It was perfectly good. It just relocated my hunger in a different direction.
And I did warn you about the consequences of wearing your pearls in public,’ he added.
Her lips curved into a smile. ‘I didn’t actually notice that you weren’t eating.’
‘I did go through the motions,’ he agreed, ‘but not with any great pleasure.
Well, that was the rationale, now for the demonstration.’
She closed her hand over his and started to speak but he overrode her.
‘Rhiannon,’ he growled, ‘I don’t know if you believe me but I’m going crazy.’
‘Maybe this will help,’ she said with utter gravity as she removed the top, swiftly released her skirt and kicked it away as it pooled at her feet. And she stood tall and proud in front of him, wearing only a very small pair of stretch-lace bikini briefs, her high-heeled sandals—and her pearls.
He took a breath and a muscle flickered in his jaw as that dark blue gaze tracked her from head to toe. Her ripe breasts with their velvet tips, the translucence of her skin that even challenged her pearls, the slenderness of her waist, her belly button, the tiny triangle of lace of her briefs and the lovely length of her legs.
The most divine tremors started to run through her and she began to flick his shirt buttons open. Then her fingers reached the waist of his jeans and she flipped open the stud and drew down the zip.
The Australian's Housekeeper Bride Page 10
