by Lara Temple
He hadn’t even noticed he’d registered those details, but now they rushed at him, a whole knowledge of the mouth moving against his, seeking his, seeking him. He met every one of them: tasted, coaxed, soothed, took. His hands did the same and he only stopped their roving when she squirmed closer to him, shooting sheer agonised lust in every direction from his arousal.
Disastrous, supplicating words stuck in his throat—he could almost hear his voice speaking them. But it was their condemning echo that forced him to break the kiss—this wasn’t right.
You have no right.
Still, he couldn’t quite let her go, so he held her there, his mouth pressed against the rapid tattoo of her pulse at her temple, breathing her in, his breath coming back to him, hot and fast and shallow and bringing with it her lily-cool scent of early spring, still carrying the winds of winter, but signalling the coming warmth and brightness of summer. She even smelled like a conflict.
And it was his job to defuse them.
‘God. Ellie... This... Damn it.’
* * *
Ellie surfaced into his struggle for control, his arms already stiffening about her, the words hard against her sensitised skin.
She clasped his head, turning so that his denial was smothered against her mouth, and kissed him. It wasn’t as practised as his. She pressed too hard, she could feel the pressure of her teeth against her lips, her nails edged into the soft skin at his nape.
Not yet. Please...
She only realised she’d spoken aloud when he answered her muffled cry with a rough sound, almost a growl, his hand splaying into the small of her back, as his mouth closed on hers again. She heard her own whimper of relief beneath the thudding of the pulse in her ears, her lips parting to welcome him back as if she had been waiting for him for years.
‘I need to taste you, Ellie. Open for me.’
His words rumbled through her, harsh and low like distant thunder, and she obeyed. His tongue sought the heat of her mouth, a counterpoint to the hard pressure against her stomach that even in her inexperience she knew was a sign of arousal. Everywhere he touched stoked pleasure upon pleasure. His hands were mapping her, painting her into this new world, the side of her thigh, over her hip to cup her buttock and bring her closer still, then flaring up her waist until the heel of his palm brushed her breast.
She whimpered, trying to turn towards that elusive caress. She felt her breasts tighten as he stroked, his motions far too languorous for the fevered kiss, the contrast transforming her skin into a tingling fabric stretched over hot coals. When his thumb finally brushed the layers of fabric over the hardened peak, she pulled her mouth from his, turning her face into the curve of his neck at the burst of agonised pleasure.
She had never imagined it would be so exciting. That it would make her body press back of its own volition, her hips trying to meet and match that pressure, her core filling with an uncomfortable, yearning pulse.
Her hands tangled in his dark hair, her nerve ends alive with joy at finally being able to touch, to take. In a moment now he would show her where this was going, show her the beauty she knew was possible.
‘Chase.’ Her voice was deep and dark and not at all her own, but she hardly heard it except as an echo of yearning. ‘Chase. Please...’
His curse was lost in a harsh indrawn breath and she felt her name rumble through him, his hands move roughly over her back, and she loved it. Loved the sensation of the fabric dragging against her skin, the pressure of his fingers shaping her into being, and when they sank down and gathered her behind, raising her against his body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoes because she needed to be as close as she could be, breathing him in, her mouth touching the beautiful lines and the warm silk skin of his neck she’d so wanted to taste.
And she’d been so right—he tasted of her own personal heaven. She could even taste the words he was speaking against her, but then he moved, his fingers sliding into her hair, sending a burst of pleasure over her scalp and down her spine as he raised her face to his and kissed her, pressing her back against the boulders.
The world melted, there was no cold stone behind her, no rising sea breeze mixing with their scent, no faraway thunder rippling through the air—only Chase kissing her as though he needed her to survive. She melted into the sensations, not caring that she whimpered when his tongue touched hers, lighting her from within, drawing a heated surge upwards that she knew he could answer, that all she had to do was follow and he would finally show her.
She clung to him like a limpet, utterly without thought or shame. So when he suddenly shuddered and stopped she just pressed harder, but now his arms were stiff as steel around her.
‘Enough. Ellie. We must stop.’
His voice was harsh and a mixture of shock and shame finally woke her. She sank back on to her heels, her hands falling from his neck. He detached his own arms and moved away from her, rubbing his jaw as if someone had just struck him.
She hadn’t even noticed it had begun to rain, slow, sluggish drops tapping on her head and shoulders. He took her bonnet from where it lay on its side by a puddle on the rocks, one faded pink ribbon floating on the glinting surface.
‘I’m sorry. It’s wet.’ His words were terse and she could hear his shame, remorse and outrage at himself.
She tied her bedraggled bonnet and searched for something to say, but nothing came.
A rumble of thunder galvanised them into action and he reached out to take her arm, but she hurried past him. When they reached the bottom of the Tor he caught her arm.
‘Wait, Ellie. We must talk. I should not have done that.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for. It was my choice. I told you to do it,’ she replied, hiding behind the sagging straw of her bonnet.
‘That is no excuse. I rarely do as I am told and I certainly have never...’ He took her hands and she stared down at the hands holding hers. They were much larger and darker, and she noted that the knuckles on his right hand were rougher and that the small finger on his left hand was stiffer than the others, as if it had once been broken.
‘Ellie, Listen... Oh, hell, there’s Henry.’
His voice was another vibrating torture on her nerves, but before she could drag herself back into sanity, he dropped her hands and all expression left his face. She turned to see Henry riding towards them, leading a saddled mare. Behind her Chase spoke rapidly.
‘Ellie. We are both leaving today, and there are some matters I must attend to which cannot be put off. But I promise it will all come right in the end... Damn and blast Henry,’ he muttered as Henry reached them and dismounted.
‘Trust you to go walking in the rain, Eleanor. The maid said she saw you walking towards the Tor, so I came to fetch you. The carriage will be ready in an hour and you must eat something before you go. Sorry, Chase, I didn’t know you were out as well. You’d best hurry back.’ He raised Ellie on to the mare in one easy motion before she could even think and then swung up himself and prodded the horses towards the Manor.
Life held greater challenges, much more serious ones than a broken heart. So why did it feel as though this pain outstripped anything she had felt before? That every yard opening between them was draining her of breath and warmth. That by the time she reached Whitworth, she might be nothing but a dried, hollowed husk.
It made no sense at all.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Out of the way, Inky.’ Chase removed the cat from the table and deposited her on the floor. ‘You’re letting her run wild, Sam. Olivia and Lucas won’t thank you when they return and find their monster cat has become uncontested Queen of the Hall.’
Sam wiped her brush on a rag and sat back with a sigh. The blue drawing room had been their mother’s refuge, but Sam had it cleared of everything, making room for two enormous tables and a specially commissioned slanting desk where a sketch
of a mosque was waiting for its final touches.
‘I don’t think they will mind that as much as my indefinite presence here.’
Chase leaned against the table, measuring his response.
‘Has Olivia given you any reason to feel unwelcome?’
Sam’s blue-grey eyes rose to his. They used to be so expressive, but like Sinclair Hall they’d fallen into disrepair and now they just reflected a rueful weariness. Chase still hoped that, like the Hall, their old grandeur could be resurrected.
‘Not at all. She has done her best to convince me I will always have a home here, but just looking at the two of them... I told Lucas I would like to have Rose Cottage. He’s not happy about it, but perhaps you can convince him when you see them in Egypt.’
Chase rubbed his palms against the table edge.
‘I can see why he might not be happy about that. You do know Rose Cottage was where Grandfather and Uncle John kept their stable of mistresses?’
‘Over twenty years ago, Chase dear. The place is practically a ruin now, but it is close, it is large and there is no one living there who must be displaced because I’m too frightened to start my life again elsewhere. Would it be so very bad? I mean, would it cause gossip for Lucas?’
‘Everything causes gossip for Lucas. For all of us. It’s like swimming in gossip soup; every movement makes ripples in it.’
Sam laughed and leaned down to scratch Inky, who’d positioned herself with her rear raised defiantly in Chase’s direction. Chase sighed and glanced at the illustration Sam was working on.
‘You have the minaret on the wrong side.’
‘What?’
‘The minaret—it is on the south-west corner of the Abu Hasan mosque. That is Abu Hasan, isn’t it?’
‘I...yes. I forgot. Do you remember whether the arch was round or scalloped? I wanted the drawing to show Gabriel from the Desert Boy coming to seek advice from the mystic Al-Masri and I was hoping there might be a drawing in the Description de l’Égypte, but there isn’t.’
Chase was about to answer when he stopped himself. The moment of truth was upon them.
‘You’ll just have to see for yourself. When you come with me to Egypt.’
Sam put down her brush and selected another, finer one.
‘I don’t think that is a good idea after all, Chase.’
Inky pawed the air next to Sam’s knee, but was ignored and came to stand by Chase, eyeing him with her unsettling round grey eyes. Chase smiled at the feline and crouched down to pay tribute.
‘Inky, do me a service and tell my sister that she wouldn’t know a good idea if it jumped on to her lap and bit her. You may feel free to demonstrate my point, too.’
‘They are on their honeymoon, Chase.’
‘Yes, I noticed that as well. But I have a solution so you needn’t expose yourself overmuch to Lucas and Olivia’s turtle-dove act. I shall find you a companion. Someone nice and interesting so the two of you can go off and ignore the lovebirds and that way they won’t feel constrained to play nursemaid, either. It’s a perfect solution.’
‘A perfect solution? To saddle me with some old biddy who will complain about the heat and the flies—’
‘No,’ he interrupted. ‘Someone young who you can take around and show her how marvellous Egypt is. You used to love it when people visited and you could take them to the bazaars and the pyramids and to the temples at Qetara.’
‘You are so transparent, Chase.’ Sam sighed and he clenched his jaw, but clung to his temper.
‘So, you will leave me to make an awkward third all alone?’
‘You at least can do as you wish once you reach Egypt and you probably will do precisely that. No doubt Oswald already requested you see to untangling some political knot while you are there.’
‘Actually, I haven’t spoken with Oswald since I arrived at Huxley and I will do my best to avoid him before my departure so that is unlikely to be the case.’
Sam snorted.
‘Oswald probably knows precisely where you are and what you are doing and what you ate for breakfast and what lovely lady you have in keeping at the moment and you know it. I’m surprised he can even spare his key dispenser of oil upon troubled political waters for a jaunt to Egypt. Now that he has all but lost Lucas, he must be short of able hands.’
It was close enough to the truth, so Chase didn’t bother denying it.
‘I have no lady in keeping at the moment, thank you, and this trip to Egypt is purely personal and will remain that way, whatever our esteemed uncle’s agenda. If there is one thing I learned from Oswald it is that everyone is expendable. Other than himself, of course. I have given him and the Crown the last ten years of my life and upon more than one occasion almost given them the whole of it. I think I deserve a couple of months of freedom to celebrate that decade of service. So I can assure you I won’t disappear and leave you stranded with the lovebirds. I am going because I failed Huxley while he was alive, but I intend to fulfil his last wish. We owe Huxley that.’
‘It still isn’t necessary we both go. Huxley is dead, Mama is dead, everyone but the three of us are dead. I’m content here, Chase. Why must you always try to make things better? Better isn’t always better, you know. Sometimes just staying where one is can be the most sensible thing to do.’
Sensible.
Sensible Sam. It was just wrong.
Sensible Sam and sensible Ellie.
Utterly, unacceptably wrong.
‘I’ll only be a burden there.’ Sam repeated, staring at her drawing. ‘I shall have to start again on this. I cannot believe I forgot it was on the other side.’
‘The colour is wrong, too.’
‘It is?’
‘You’ve been away too long. If the best you can do is copy from the likes of Burckhardt and the Description de L’Egypte, how much longer do you think the Desert Boy author is going to give you these commissions?’ Chase said.
Watching the fear creep over his sister’s face, he could see these concerns were already in her mind. He was being mean, but he couldn’t help it. He felt mean.
‘Sam, I need your help. Why can’t—?’ He broke off, sheathing his temper.
Sam turned, looking at him fully for the first time since he arrived that afternoon.
She’d been a plump child—as enthusiastic about food as about everything in life, but since her marriage she’d been steadily fading. She looked unwell, even paler than usual. Lucas and Chase had hoped her widowhood would release her, but, if anything, she’d sunk further since returning to England.
He hated seeing her like this. It was like watching their mother all over again. But he knew all too well that he could not save her.
He fixed problems, he did not save people.
Just as he’d fixed at least one of Ellie’s problems yesterday, but that did not mean he’d saved her from the role she’d assumed in her family’s life.
‘I was wondering about that since you arrived, Chase. Something is wrong, isn’t it? Has something happened? It isn’t Lucas and Olivia?’
‘No, of course not. As far as I know they are either still in Venice or on their way to Egypt.’
‘Then what? Something is wrong. I may have become pitifully self-absorbed, but I can still tell when you are trying too hard. Just like you did with Mama. I am not like her, you know.’
‘I know.’
He looked down at his boots. Inky’s white-tipped tail was brushing idly at them, her eyes moving between them as if following their conversation.
‘I don’t think you do sometimes, Chase. But that is not the point. The point is there is something wrong with you. There is, isn’t there? Are you ill... Chase, are you in trouble?’
He held out a hand at the rising concern in her voice. He had hoped to get through this without bringing himself into the equation. But pe
rhaps that wasn’t possible.
‘I suppose I am. In a way. I was hoping to do this without...burdening you, but...’
‘It isn’t a burden if you need my help, Chase. I won’t assuage your conscience by being something I do not think I can be, but I would do anything in my power to help you and Lucas, you should know that.’
Chase went to warm his hands by the fire.
He was actually afraid to speak of it, he realised. As if laying it before Sam might make it twist out of his control. Or worse—she might reflect what he least wanted to hear.
‘You’ll be angry with me.’
‘Well, that’s nothing new. You always think you know best. It is very annoying. Especially in a brother. Tell me why I shall be angry with you.’
‘I want you to come to Egypt in part so I can convince someone else to come to Egypt. I’m exploiting you.’
‘Someone else. Is it related to Oswald?’
‘No. God, no. I wouldn’t involve you in that. What the devil do you think I am?’
‘Far too nice. Oswald never told you I was quite useful to him in Venice, did he?’
That knocked Chase out of his melancholy.
‘What? I’ll skin him alive. Don’t tell me Lucas knew of this.’
‘Of course not. It was a long time ago. Just some help keeping an eye on a few dignitaries who frequented the Montillio Casino. So, who is this someone else?’
‘It is a little complicated. Henry Whelford is...was...well, possibly still is but only...in any case he became betrothed.’
‘Oh. Is he the “someone else”? What has he to do with Egypt?’
