Time stood still. Then Marc reached out for her. She slipped her cold hand into his warm one. The dance began again. He raised her hand to his lips as she stepped away from the pool of silver at her feet. Marc drew her away, twirling her around slowly as though she were a ballerina in her corset and lace. Then with a slight pressure of his hand, Alex stopped with her back to him, filled with a yearning passion for the man she loved.
She was mesmerizingly beautiful, thought Marc, elegant, exquisite and more alive than any other woman he’d ever known. And she was his. He knew it by the way she stilled beneath his touch, trusting him, loving him, and so incredibly desirable, he could scarcely breathe.
He drew her against him, revelling in the lushness of her curves as she relaxed into the strength of his embrace.
Her breasts strained against the constraints of the bodice. He lowered his head to drift butterfly kisses along her neck and collarbone, teased by the delicate scent of bare skin. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist, cinching its span before roving upwards, slipping beneath the satiny material. Alex gasped and instinctively arched backwards, clinging to his neck like a woman drowning. Her excitement flooded Marc’s body with desire and he groaned. He had to slow down. He wanted her in his bed, but he wanted her in his heart even more. There could be no mistakes.
He felt Alex quiver as he relinquished his hold; his fingertips traced the delicate chain of her necklace against her flushed skin. “May I?” he asked softly.
“Please….”
She tipped her head forward. Loose tendrils of hair teased the slender length of her neck, brushing like silk against his fingers, bringing him to the brink, as he carefully removed her necklace and placed it on the mantelpiece.
Slowly, he reached for the pins she wore in her hair. Their aquamarine stones twinkled like tiny blue stars in the candlelight. One by one, measuring movements to heartbeats, Marc gently slid them out, and set them next to the necklace.
His fingers splayed against her neck, touch and tenderness, then as she looked over her shoulder at him with invitation on her lips, he reached for the zipper of her bodice.
His mouth was dry as he unhooked the top closure, and then ever so slowly slid the zipper down until he reached the small of her back.
She turned to face him, raising her hands to remove her earrings. The loosened straps of her gown moved with her, exposing the swell of her breasts and the lace garment beneath. She looked steadily into his eyes, her own reflecting the clear light of the candle flames.
Marc held out his hand for the last of her jewellery and set it beside the dragoon, all the while holding the heat of her gaze in his own.
“Are you sure?” His voice was husky.
She stepped against him, arms circling his neck. “Completely,” she whispered.
And as it was meant to be, he scooped her up in his arms and swept her from the room.
Alex drifted in and out of sleep, her mind awash with images of Marc…the twist of muscles along his shoulders as he reached for her, the stubble of his chin rasping against the side of her neck as he kissed her throat, the flat expanse of his belly as he rose above her. Her body throbbed….
Reluctantly, she fought her way to the surface, staying awake just long enough for her eyelids to flutter open, note the predawn light, and then close again.
She sighed. Something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t care. She was warm and cozy, and it was way too early to get up. Besides, her dreams were so compellingly real, so perfect, that she could almost taste the salty musk of Marc’s skin. She wanted only to slip back into that bubble of warmth and unremitting desire.
Alex gave the duvet a tug. When it didn’t move, she muttered and wiggled her bottom to the middle of the bed where it was soft and comfy and…Alex’s eyes popped open…hard.
Flipping over like a fish on a line, she gaped at the man who had invaded and conquered all her dreams.
“Expecting someone else, were you?” Marc’s blue eyes lit with laughter. His bare arm snaked around her back, warm and heavy, and drew her close. “You couldn’t have forgotten me that fast,” he breathed. “In fact, I know you didn’t…unless those cute little moans I heard were already spoken for.”
“I didn’t!” Alex spluttered, knowing damn well she might have. She’d been so lost in the aftermath of their love making that anything was possible.
“You did,” teased Marc. “And you snuffled as well.”
Alex’s looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you mean ‘snuffled’?”
Marc’s whiskers tickled her ear. “A delicate snoring sound, known to be exhibited by the female of the species.”
“Really?”
“Truly.” With Marc lightly nipping her ear lobe, Alex’s right hand crept around behind him, and yanked on his pillow.
“Hey!” Marc clawed the air and rolled.
Alex swung her arm and whacked him with his own pillow. “Serves you right, you sexist….”
“What?” Laughing, Marc snatched the pillow from her hands.
“Movie star,” blurted Alex as she dove for the safety of the duvet.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Marc whipped off the duvet, and with a swift overhand, pummelled her back with the stolen pillow.
Seconds later, they tumbled into a shrieking mêlée of legs and arms, with feathers flying and passions rising.
Alex fell backward, laughing. And then everything stopped. On his knees above her, Marc gazed down at her, eyes alight with passion. He dropped the pillow over the side of the bed and with a groan settled down over her.
Arms reaching to encircle him, Alex shuddered with delight. Her dreams had been real.
When Alex woke again, the sky was awash with the pink glow of dawn. Instinctively she looked toward the centre of the bed, but it was empty.
Her perfect night was over. It was time to go.
For a moment she lay with her eyes closed, trying to recapture the elation of a few hours before, but she could hardly ignore the vacant spot beside her. She yawned widely, trying to settle her thrumming nerves, and scanned the barely furnished room. Other than this mattress, a couple of open suitcases, and a chair that doubled as a clothes hamper, Marc had added nothing.
Except her.
For now.
Knowing she should simply get up and get on with her day, Alex turned over instead and looked toward the soft sounds of his movements, feasting her eyes on her lover. He had pulled on a shirt, and was rummaging around in his case. “What are you doing?” she asked finally.
He looked over at her and smiled, strong cheekbones and deep eyes highlighted by the dawn glow. Despite herself, a curl of heat shot through her body.
“Looking for my tie.”
“Because?” She propped herself up on an elbow and wrapped the duvet tightly around herself.
“Got it!” Marc stood up and turned towards her. Alex swallowed hard. He was wearing nothing but his dress shirt from the night before. Which hung loosely at his sides. Showcasing his physique from top to bottom. The curl of heat became a twist of fire.
“I’m wearing my tux, thus providing the evidence that I am seeing you home after a celebrity after-party and a champagne breakfast. And you are wearing jewels and an evening gown…at least you will be after you get your lazy, but absolutely gorgeous, bottom out of my bed.”
He tossed his tie over his shoulder. “On the other hand,” he said as he advanced towards her, “you don’t ever have to go if you don’t want to.” He lowered himself on top of her covering her with his weight.
But as Alex splayed her hands over the breadth of his back, she felt her heart clench. He hadn’t said the words that she’d wanted to hear…but then neither had she.
And perhaps it was just as well; the shadow of yesterday’s conflicts between them was harsher in the cold light of day. Marc had made it in time, and had walked beside her on the red carpet, but only just – he’d chosen hi
s work over a personal commitment to her. And how could she fault him when that had been her decision as well.
Still, she responded to his caress with abandon, amazed at how her body could totally ignore her doubting mind. “Aren’t you going back to Yorkshire?” she asked in a feeble attempt to get back on track.
“Eventually,” Marc murmured into her ear, “but I’m sure Douglas has everything in hand.” He kissed her one more time and propped himself back up, using a single finger to gently stroke along her collarbone. “You’ll love Fallowfield, Alex. It’s so different from London. The air is fresher for one thing, and the house is bursting with possibilities, and history.”
His enthusiasm was oozing out of every pore, and suddenly Alex felt increasingly threatened. Which was absolutely ridiculous considering how passionate she was about The Sadler. Marc had had to come to accept the demands of her new position, and at the very least, she owed him the same support. Because if he was as dedicated to his profession as she was to hers, committing to a relationship would be hard for them both.
But Alex always met a challenge head-on. Love wasn’t any different, was it? She pushed her worries away and relaxed in Marc’s arms. “I’ve called a cab,” he crooned. “We have about fifteen minutes.”
Nothing could have cleared her mind faster.
They were downstairs in twenty. Sitting in the backseat in their rumpled evening clothes, they held hands as the driver navigated the crush of early morning traffic.
It was slow going, but Marc didn’t mind. He would have been happy no matter how long it took, but he sensed the low twang of anxiety from the woman beside him. She had said she planned to head right to her flat and sleep until noon, but Marc knew that wouldn’t stop her from worrying about the upcoming board meeting or the myriad decisions she would have to make before the day was out. She had a career and responsibilities as did he.
And the closer they got to the hotel, the greater likelihood those responsibilities would cloud her thoughts and she would begin to distance herself.
From him.
“The mews?” he asked, wanting to reclaim her attention. Stir her memory.
Alex shook her head. “Not this time.” She smiled in acknowledgement of the night he’d walked her home. Marc squeezed her hand, remembering how afraid she had been that her position would be compromised. He glanced at her calm and confident face. She was no longer the CEO-in-waiting; she was the head of The Sadler Hotel, and she would walk through the front door. “No more skulking,” she added for good measure.
Marc nodded, and leaned back, feeling a swell of happiness. And relief. When he’d escorted her to last night’s event, they’d revealed themselves to the world; later when she’d accompanied him home, they had discovered each other in ways that Marc had never expected. He recognized it for what it was…passion exalted by love.
Anything was possible now, he thought as they drew up in front of the hotel.
“I’ll come round,” he said to Alex, and slipped out of the taxi after instructing the driver to wait. He held the door open for her, taking her hand as he had the night before. Alex alighted, head held high as they approached the entrance together.
George was waiting, but not for them. The Right Honourable and Mrs. Smith-Jones had just exited the hotel and were coming down the steps.
“Good morning, Miss Kirkwood,” said the elderly gentleman. “You look lovely, dear. Late night?” he asked innocently.
“More like early morning,” acknowledged Alex.
Apparently, the Rt. Honourables were on their way to New York.
Marc watched the exchange, captured by the bemused look on the older woman’s face. She obviously remembered her encounter with Marc in the lobby, because she was now eying him speculatively. “Ma’am,” he said.
Alex quickly made the introductions.
Penelope Smith-Jones blinked. “I believe we’ve met before.”
“We have," said Marc blithely. “In the lobby of The Sadler.”
He opened his mouth to say more, but Alex stepped in front of him and addressed the elderly couple. “I do hope you enjoy your trip,” she said smoothly. “George,” she added over her shoulder, “would you?”
The chauffeur touched a finger to his cap, helped the couple into the car and then sped away to Alex’s solicitous wave.
Alex fixed her gaze on Marc. “Don’t you dare laugh.”
“Never,” Marc grinned. “You are such a pro.” He placed his hands on her shoulders wanting to prolong their parting, but knowing it was time. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Kirkwood. Last night’s performance was…absolutely spectacular.”
“What about this morning’s?” Alex whispered.
“Definitely worth repeating, don’t you think?” murmured Marc.
“Definitely.” She rose on her tiptoes and gave him a brief, but intimate, kiss before leaving him in a whisper of silk and satin.
Marc stood on the pavement, savouring the moment as he watched Alex enter the hotel on her own terms, an independent woman at the top of her game. He’d been incredibly lucky to have met her when he did. If she hadn’t been the head concierge, she would never have mistaken him for a plumber, and then forgiven him for being a star. He smiled ruefully. It was time to go.
But as the taxi swung around into the opposing lane to return Marc to his flat, a familiar glint of reflected light caught Marc’s eye.
“Pull over!” he shouted, twisting in his seat. There it was again. A quick flash from the bushes across the road from The Sadler. Which, in his world, could only mean one thing.
The driver did the best he could in the heavy traffic, but with all the vehicles in the way, it was impossible. “Sir?” the cabbie prompted after an irate driver beside them leaned on his horn.
Marc took one last look then turned back in his seat. He was tempted to run back, to flush out the photographer who had been lying in wait, but the odds were whoever it was, had already scarpered, or even worse, hit the send button.
“We might as well go,” he said grimly. He’d seen this play out before…to him…to friends in the business…to innocent people caught in the voracious nets of celebrity culture.
The best he could hope for was that he was either mistaken or about to be blackmailed.
Anything else didn’t bear thinking about.
CHAPTER TEN
The cheerful lunchtime clatter of The Sadler’s Garden Room was subsiding as patrons gathered their belongings and left for an afternoon of shopping, sightseeing, or a return to their offices. Alex glanced around the room contentedly as she sipped her tea.
“You seem to have had quite an appetite today.” Eugenie Sadler eyed her granddaughter’s empty plate.
Alex gulped the hot liquid and tried not to blush. If Grannie only knew….
She’d been having a late lunch with Helen and her grandmother, regaling them with anecdotes from the previous evening while she devoured one of her favourite dishes, mandarin salad with avocado and roast chicken.
“You know what it’s like, Grannie, smoked salmon hors d’oeuvres and things with little bits of spinach,” she said, blithely repeating Marc’s comments about not getting food stuck in your teeth or getting caught on camera stuffing your face, “and no one ever takes more than the tiniest sip of champagne.”
“So they don’t need the loo in the middle of the premiere,” Helen laughed. “Was it a good production of Twelfth Night?”
“It was delightful.” Alex sighed. Everything about the evening had been delightful. First, the heady sense of taking her place among the throng attending the premiere. And then the deeper warmth of companionship when Marc had reached for her hand as the lights dimmed. She’d thrilled as the familiar love story unfolded on the screen. Even the farcical romp of mistaken identities had resonated enough to make Marc give her a nudge. His eyes had glimmered in the half-light at her low laugh. And then later….
Fighting down a fre
sh wave of longing for Marc, Alex searched frantically for a topic that would satisfy her audience and take her own mind from such dangerous territory.
“The costumes,” Alex continued. “The costumes were fabulous.”
Her grandmother smiled. “I am looking forward to seeing it.”
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “I think it’s especially nice to see a play you really like being done so beautifully on the screen. And Sir Andrew Aguecheek was hilarious. He’d stayed here once…the actor that is, and he remembered me.”
“I think you have stars in your eyes, my dear,” said her grandmother topping up her tea from the hot water pot.
“Was that a joke, Grannie?” teased Alex.
“Just take care, darling, that’s all I ask.”
Nothing was going to spoil her cloud of happiness, thought Alex, not even Grannie’s word of caution. But she did have to get to work. “I can’t thank you both enough,” Alex said catching hold of their hands. “For everything you have done to help me, and not just dressing me for the most exciting night of my life.”
“Our pleasure,” said Helen with a nod to her employer.
Leaving the two women to dawdle over their tea, Alex threaded her way through the dining room. Normally, she would be surreptitiously checking every table, gauging the mood of the lingering guests, and whether or not they were being well looked after. But all she could think about was Marc – his welcoming smile, his eyes alight with love for her, and the feel of his embrace. Alex swallowed. If he was awake, he’d be scrounging around in that ridiculous fridge of his, searching for something to eat.
She didn’t need an excuse to call him, but if the old saying about the way to a man’s heart was true, then inviting him to join her in the Garden Room for a late supper was a brilliant idea.
And perfect timing. Kate was just arriving with the evening’s menus. Alex turned towards her, her step faltering when she saw the anguished expression on her friend’s face.
“Everything okay?” Alex asked as she drew near.
Undone by the Star Page 14
