‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah. Me, too.’ He swallowed before rasping out the next words. ‘I would have supported her. Provided for her. Even married her. Done any damned thing she might reasonably have wanted. But I never got the chance.’
‘Because you were powerless,’ she said slowly. ‘A man always is in a situation like that. She didn’t want you to know and there was nothing else you could have done. You answered her questions truthfully because you didn’t know why she was asking them.’
‘And maybe I should have guessed,’ he said bitterly.
‘But you didn’t have that kind of relationship, did you? It was supposed to be upfront and honest, but that only works if both parties want the same thing. Was that around the time you left England?’
He nodded. ‘I couldn’t wait to get away. To leave the old, tainted life behind me. I went to Australia and started a new life there. I set up offices in Brisbane and bought the cattle station. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time—because the country was ripe for new technology. The money started pouring in and the work provided a distraction, but whenever I could I would spend any spare time I had at Poonbarra, working on the land.’
It must have been a kind of escape for him, thought Sophie, to muster those cattle and build those fences. To toil and sweat beneath the fierce and unforgiving sun. A new life, far away from the pain of the old one. Just as it had been for her.
She guessed that was why he’d rarely returned to England and why he hadn’t seen much of his family over the years, because the chance of running into Molly’s twin must have filled him with horror. She thought about what he’d said about his mother. Women hadn’t done right by Rafe Carter, had they? No wonder he’d stayed away from commitment and why he regarded them as nothing more than sexual playthings.
But today he had confronted all the darkness of his past. Did that mean he had drawn a line in the sand and could finally leave it behind? ‘Rafe—’
‘No.’ His voice was harsh now. ‘I don’t want to talk about it any more, Sophie. Do you understand?’
Oh, she understood, all right. How could she fail to? She nodded as he began to walk towards her and knew from the dark look on his face that he wanted to take out his pent-up anger and frustration on her and just how he intended to do it. Was he treating her as a convenience, using her to blot out the bitter memories of what another woman had done to him, and shouldn’t she object to that? Yet the moment he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, she didn’t care. Who cared if his passion was fuelled by anger? Was it so wrong to want him this badly?
She acknowledged the brutal hardness of his kiss, but when her hands reached up to cradle his head, he groaned and softened it. He unzipped her skirt so that it pooled around her ankles and she stepped out of it and pulled at his trouser belt, as intent on quickly removing his clothes as he was hers. But she could feel something deep in her heart being tugged as he drew her against his naked body. Some stupid little ache that made her long for something more than the satisfaction of the physical.
The rug in front of the blazing fire wasn’t particularly soft but Sophie didn’t care about that either. All she could feel was the warmth from the flames licking over their bare skin as their bodies met. Wordlessly she moved over him, straddling him. She could feel the hard bones of his hips against the softness of her thighs—and he felt very big as she brought him deep inside her. They’d never done it in this position before and her initial tentativeness was instantly banished by the smoky look of pleasure on his face as he filled her. He spread his fingers over her breasts and played with her hardened nipples as she rode him with a total lack of inhibition. And when her body began to tighten with the now familiar shimmerings of orgasm, his hands anchored her so that he went deeper still until she gasped out loud, in Greek.
* * *
She must have drifted off to sleep because when she opened her eyes, it was to find that Rafe had covered them with a blanket and his naked body was pressed against her bare back. For a moment she just revelled in the feel of his warm flesh next to hers and the way he’d slung his arm over her hips, so that his fingertips rested carelessly in the cluster of curls at her thighs. She remembered the things he’d told her about his past. The way he’d unburdened himself. Did it mean something that he’d chosen to confide in her, or was she in danger of reading too much into the situation? No matter. The future could wait. Lying there together like that was just about perfect and as she stirred a little she could feel his hand automatically begin to drift downwards, when there was a loud banging at the bedroom door.
‘Rafe?’ It was Nick’s voice.
‘Go away,’ Rafe mumbled, his breath warm against the back of her neck.
‘I need to speak to you. Now.’
Cursing a little beneath his breath, Rafe got to his feet and pulled on a pair of jeans, still doing up the zip as he walked over and opened the door, behind which his half-brother was standing. He didn’t invite him in and Sophie couldn’t hear what was being said—only the low murmur of their voices before Rafe quietly closed the door and came back into the room.
She looked up into his face, but if she’d been hoping for some new kind of openness after the things they’d talked about, then she’d been way off mark because his features were as dark and as unreadable as ever. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘You could say that.’ His voice sounded grim. ‘My brother’s had a phone call from the landlord of the local pub. The snow has started to melt and a man and woman have checked in. He thinks they may be journalists.’
She sat up, clutching onto the blanket. ‘How—?’
He shrugged. ‘I suspect Sharla let them know you’re here—inadvertently or not, I don’t know. The question is how we deal with it.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘There’s only one way to deal with it and I can’t keep avoiding it for ever. There’s no point in me trying to concoct another life—it won’t make any difference. And maybe it’s time to stop running.’ She clutched the blanket a little tighter to her breasts. ‘To let Myron know I’m a grown-up now and can make my own decisions. To tell him that I need to forge a new future for myself.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘And do you know what that future will be?’
‘Not yet. I’d just hoped...’
‘Hoped what?’ he questioned as her words tailed away.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. After my fairly successful stab at independence, it’s a pity I have to return being pursued by the press. I’d hoped to make a more...controlled arrival.’
‘Unless you refuse to play ball,’ he said slowly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why should the damned press back you into a corner?’ he demanded. ‘Why go back earlier than originally planned?’
‘That was pretty much on the cards the minute you returned unexpectedly to Poonbarra. I don’t really have any alternative, Rafe. I can’t stay here. And I can’t face the thought of turning up somewhere else just before Christmas, with a load of news-hungry journalists on my tail.’
There was a pause. ‘Unless you came to New York with me for Christmas.’
Sophie tried to squash the leap of hope in her heart as she met his shadowed gaze. ‘But you must have plans?’
‘None I can’t get out of. The only thing set in stone is my Boxing Day ski trip to Vermont. But New York is the most anonymous city in the world and I can have my PR people make sure nobody bothers you.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, even though she was filled with an excitement she was trying very hard to contain.
‘The city is beautiful during the holidays,’ he continued softly. ‘And I think there’s a lot more sex we need to have before I’m willing to let you go. I’m not offering you a home, Sophie—as long as you understand that. Just a temporary shelte
r.’
Her smile didn’t falter, even though the baldness of his statement left her in no doubt of his feelings for her. But surely it was better to know exactly where she stood. And he was offering her a solution, wasn’t he? Practical help in the form of a Christmas break in a city she’d never visited, rather than a scandal-wrapped return to her island home. There was no contest, really.
‘I’d like that,’ she said.
‘Good. In that case, I’ll have my jet prepared.’ His eyes gleamed as he unzipped his jeans and started walking towards her. ‘And in the meantime...why don’t you lose the blanket?’
CHAPTER NINE
THIS HIGH UP, the snowy winter light was on the harsher side of bright. A penthouse apartment high in the sky—far above the streets and away from the sounds of the New York traffic. Chosen specifically for its isolation and for the fact that nobody could see you, or hear you. An apartment Rafe had never shared with anyone.
Until now.
He stared at Sophie’s back, silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline as she watched the ant-like people far below. His home, his space, his life. A fortress of a place which up until now had always been inviolate. People came here rarely because hospitality on home turf had never been his thing. He preferred to take people out to dinner, rather than be stuck with guests who wouldn’t take the hint and go home. The same with lovers, too. Not for him the awkward morning ritual of trying to remove a woman who wanted to stay.
Why had he invited Sophie here? He ran his gaze over the gleam of her bare legs. Because he felt partly responsible for the arrival of the press in the Cotswolds? Yes. And the sexual chemistry between them had been an added incentive. Why turn his back on a physical compatibility which was as good as theirs? But it was more than that. He’d confided in her. Told her stuff he’d never told anyone else. Stuff which had stirred up feelings inside him which had left a raw and gaping void. He’d thought exposing his secrets would make the darkness go away, but he had been wrong. He told himself he just needed time. And that maybe having Sophie here with him was nothing but an insurance policy. A charm offensive to get her onside and make sure she kept those secrets close to her heart.
He acknowledged another stir of lust as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. This morning she was wearing one of his shirts which came to just below her bottom as she surveyed the cityscape. One hand was planted on her hips as she watched the snow tumbling towards the city streets. It was a pose designed to show off her long legs to their best advantage—something he suspected she knew very well, despite her relative inexperience. But she was a fast learner, he thought approvingly. She’d learnt to remove her clothes and tantalise him better than any of those high-class strippers he knew rich out-of-towners visited down on Midtown West.
His groin throbbed with a relentless beat as he walked over to her and slid his arms around her waist, lifting aside the still-damp curtain of dark hair to plant a lingering kiss at the base of her neck.
‘Good swim?’ he murmured.
‘Fifty lengths—and all I had to do was take the elevator.’
‘That’s the beauty of having a pool in the basement.’
‘Yes. Rafe,’ she added indistinctly as he cupped his hands over her breasts and began to massage them through the cotton of her shirt. ‘You do realise I’m standing in front of the window?’
‘I do. And you’re nineteen floors up.’
‘Somebody might have a pair of binoculars.’
‘The glass is mirror-coated,’ he said, moving one hand down. ‘Which means nobody gets to see—although, if it turns you on, you can always pretend someone is watching me slide my hand down between your legs and easing you open like this.’
‘You are...’ she gasped as he slipped his finger inside her ‘...incorrigible.’
‘Am I?’ He moved his finger against her, loving the way her head fell helplessly back against him, the scent of her sex heavy in the air as he brought her to a shuddering climax right where she stood. He felt the buckling of her knees as she slumped back against him and thought about carrying her over to the sofa. But she was nothing if not surprising because she quickly gained her equilibrium and turned around, her face flushed and a small smile on her lips as she ran the flat of her palm experimentally over his groin.
‘Oh,’ she said, digging her teeth into her bottom lip almost shyly as she explored the hard and throbbing ridge covered by the denim of his jeans. ‘I see. You are a very excitable man, aren’t you, Rafe Carter?’
He gave a low and exultant laugh. ‘Is that what I am?’
‘Among other things.’
The rasp of his zip sliding down was the only sound other than his ragged breathing as she sank to her knees in front of him and teased him with her fingers, before putting the moist tip against her lips.
‘Sophie,’ he groaned as her tongue gave a playful lick.
Sophie lowered her lips onto him, loving the sensation of sucking this most intimate part of him. She liked having the silken thickness of him deep in her mouth, just as she liked tasting that first salty bead of moisture which showed he was close to climax. He’d taught her so much. About her body. About his. Sometimes she wished she could grab hold of time and freeze it because the clock was ticking down towards Christmas and once the holiday was over, she’d be far away from here. From him.
But her thoughts were forgotten as his hands clamped around her head and his fingers dug into her scalp as his excitement grew. She could feel him tense and hear that distinctive choking sound he made, just as he flooded her mouth and she drank him in.
She opened her eyes and looked up to find him staring at her and she slid her tongue slowly over her lips, which were still sticky with his salty essence. His eyes darkened but his hands were gentle as he pulled her to her feet and led her into the huge wet room adjoining his bedroom, where he turned on the warm jets of the shower.
‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’ he questioned, slicking thick soapy foam over her body.
‘I’d love to go to that lovely restaurant in Gramercy again.’
‘Then that’s where we’ll go.’
‘Won’t you need to book?’
His smile was wolfish as he sluiced suds from her skin, paying specially close attention to her thrusting nipples. ‘I never need to book.’
Overlooking a snowy courtyard garden, the restaurant was exquisite and afterwards they went to an art gallery in Chelsea where a friend of Rafe’s was exhibiting his sculptures. Sophie drank champagne and chatted with the artist and decided she liked New York, a city where it was possible to blend in and lose yourself. She liked it nearly as much as Poonbarra. Her heart missed a beat. The two places which had felt most like home had one thing in common.
Him.
She glanced across the gallery, where Rafe was standing studying a sculpture, his thumb rubbing thoughtfully at his chin while close by a striking-looking blonde in a mulberry-coloured velvet coat was trying to catch his eye.
Sophie thought about how it would be once she had returned to Isolaverde. That one day soon, this blonde—or someone like her—wouldn’t just be chatting to Rafe about a marble figure, but would be accompanying him back to his gorgeous penthouse, to do to him what Sophie had been doing earlier. A sickening image sprang to her mind—of somebody else unzipping his jeans. Somebody else taking him so intimately into her mouth...
Sophie’s heart clenched as she put her glass down on the tray of a passing waitress and waited for the feeling to pass. But these pangs of longing and possession had been getting more and more frequent as the days had ticked by. Was it sexual jealousy she was experiencing, or something else? Something she was too scared to acknowledge because it was as futile as expecting the sun to rise at midnight. That her feelings for Rafe were becoming more complicated than either of them would ever have anticipa
ted.
Far more than he would ever have wanted.
She wondered if he’d noticed her attitude towards him softening, or whether she’d managed successfully to hide her growing feelings. She suspected he would push her away if he got an inkling she’d started to care for him in a way he had warned her against, right from the start.
She tried to pinpoint when her attitude had slid from lust into tenderness and then into a wistful longing for a future which could never be hers. Was it when he’d protected her from the press and continued to protect her, here in his adopted city? Or when he’d made love to her and shown her that sex could be about tenderness as well as hot, hard passion? She swallowed.
No. She knew exactly when it had been. When he’d opened up his heart and told her about the baby he’d lost and she’d seen the raw pain on his face and heard the bitter heartbreak in his voice. In that moment he had revealed a vulnerability she’d never associated with a man like him, and that had changed everything. And she didn’t want it to change.
Because she couldn’t afford to fall in love with Rafe Carter.
* * *
On Christmas morning, Sophie woke first—slipping from the bed and disappearing into one of the dressing rooms before starting to busy herself in the kitchen. She gave a smile of satisfaction as she cracked the first eggshell against the side of the bowl. Six months ago and she hadn’t known one end of a frying pan from the other and now she made the best omelette in Manhattan. Well, that was what Rafe said. She was humming beneath her breath when he came out of the bedroom in just a pair of boxers, the hand which had been raking back his mussed hair suddenly stilling.
He ran his gaze over her. ‘Sweet heaven. What’s this?’
She did a twirl. ‘You don’t like it?’
Rafe felt a shaft of lust arrowing down to his groin. She was like every male fantasy come to life and standing in front of him, wearing a short baby-doll nightdress in scarlet silk, trimmed with fake white fur. The tiny matching knickers—which showed as she moved—were the same bright red and a Santa hat was crammed down over her dark hair. ‘Santa, baby,’ he murmured. ‘Come here.’
A Royal Vow of Convenience Page 11
