Bride Required

by Alison Fraser

  He intercepted her, a hand pulling her round. ‘It isn’t a matter of trust, dammit!’

  ‘Oh, right! Yes! So what is it?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’

  His eyes burned into hers, accusing her of something.

  Dee’s defence was her frown. She really hadn’t a clue what he meant.

  ‘You don’t, do you?’ he concluded for himself, anger cooling even as he stated, ‘You can’t marry Joseph.’

  ‘Okay, find someone else for him.’ She countered what seemed a purely arbitrary decision. ‘Maybe one of your ex-girlfriends would do it.’

  His sighed heavily. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  ‘Of course, I forgot,’ she flipped back. ‘They’re all too bloody old for Joseph!’

  He’d offended her—it seemed fair to return the compliment.

  ‘Being my age, you mean?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Thirty-four—you really think that’s so old?’

  Dee wished she hadn’t started this. Who would have thought he’d be so sensitive?

  ‘It was a joke,’ she pouted, and tried to pull away.

  He wouldn’t let her. ‘But you think it all the same, right?’

  ‘No, you’re the one who thinks it.’ Dee was tired of being on the defensive. ‘You’re the one who bangs on about the age difference and acts like you’re my damned father!’

  His expression went from stiff to rigid. She’d gone too far.

  ‘On the contrary,’ he ground out, ‘I’d say I haven’t acted like your father—or more precisely your stepfather… Maybe that’s my mistake.’

  Dee’s eyes blazed at mention of Edward, and she might have struck Baxter if he hadn’t grabbed her arms.

  ‘Is that what you want?’ He dragged her body against his and she realised in shock that he was already aroused. ‘Is this what you like? To know your power over men?’

  Her own response was immediate and alarming, but it was all wrong—to feel desire in such circumstances. ‘No, please…’

  “‘No, please”,’ he mocked her. ‘How virginal! But are you? I wonder…’

  Anger returned, overshadowing any love Dee had for him.

  ‘That’s for me to know—’ she hissed at him, recklessly, foolishly.

  ‘And presumably for me to find out?’ he finished with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Is that an invitation?’

  ‘No, it bloody well isn’t!’ Dee pushed at the wall of his chest. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Not yet.’ She continued struggling, and he backed her hard against the door. ‘You started this game of dare, so why not finish it? You want to be treated like a woman, don’t you?’

  Dee didn’t know what she wanted any more. She went still as a hand was placed on her neck, tilting her head upwards. She stared back at him in defiance, but refused to turn away as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her without passion, meaning to punish.

  She clenched her lips, meaning to resist.

  But it was hard. It was so long since they’d been this close, so long since he’d held her, and somehow the anger got lost and the kiss became something else—a soft, persuasive murmur on her lips, a call to the senses, sweet and clear, until she began kissing him back, her body swaying to his.

  When he finally raised his head, she couldn’t remember why they’d been arguing. She just stood there, transfixed by longing, wide blue eyes willing him to kiss her again.

  ‘This isn’t right.’ The words were a whisper, fading away even as he cupped her face in his hands, even as his mouth sought hers once more.

  Lips touched, then parted. Breath caught, then quickened. Desire stirred, then flared.

  They weren’t playing games any more, and Dee didn’t hide how she felt, snaking her arms round his neck, her mouth opening to his, accepting his passion, giving him her love. She felt excited rather than alarmed as he began to kiss her deeply, demanding more. Closer he drew her, and she went, wrapping her body round his, until he acknowledged his need for her with a groan. Then it was hands touching through clothes—restless, seeking, urgent—their mouths kissing, hard and hungry, breathless with desire.

  ‘Not here,’ Dee managed to gasp when he would have pulled her down onto the floor.

  ‘No, not here,’ Baxter echoed as he remembered where they were, and grabbed her hand.

  He pulled her with him out into the hallway and along the darkened corridor to the spare room.

  With some last vestige of sanity, Dee tried to say something about Morag being upstairs and Cat not liking it. But he started to kiss her again, hands sliding down to the soft curve of her hips and lifting her body to the heat of his.

  Then his mouth left hers to follow the long arch of her throat, touching the wildly beating pulse, tasting her sweet-smelling skin down the hollow at her throat until he reached the barrier of her clothing. Frustrated by it, he backed her towards the high brass bed, undoing the buttons of her shirt as they went. With each button that was undone his lips touched the exposed skin, trailing down the valley between her breasts until the sides of the shirt parted.

  Dee was left trembling. She stood before him, wanting more yet dreading it, too. He raised his head, and for a moment his eyes searched her face. She hid her love, knowing he didn’t want it. She hid her fear, too, as he slipped the shirt down her arms, letting it fall to the floor. She was naked yet it was her face he continued to watch, his eyes holding hers, keeping her there, a willing captive, as he stripped off his own shirt to reveal a broad chest matted by dark hair.

  When Baxter finally moved his gaze downwards, it was to find the reality of her was better even than his memory—the swollen pout of her mouth, the long, graceful neck, the tanned slope of her shoulders merging with the paleness of milk, a woman’s breasts, proud and full, over a narrow ribcage and flat stomach, skin smooth as silk until the triangle of hair between her thighs, then smooth again on her endless legs.

  His eyes caressed each part of her as he made love to her in his mind. Dee might have felt shame, but didn’t. His gaze told her more clearly than words that he thought her beautiful.

  It was when he finally touched her, smoothing a hand down her arm, that she shivered.

  ‘You’re cold.’

  She let him believe it, and he drew her into his arms, offering her his warmth. But the shock of it, his hard, hair-covered body against the soft contours of hers, made her shiver more, and he led her to the bed.

  ‘Lie down.’ She did as he said, and he covered her with the sheet.

  Still shivering, Dee watched as he finished undressing himself. He unstrapped his watch first, placing it on the bedside table, before unbuckling his belt. He stripped off his jeans, socks and shoes, leaving on his boxer shorts as he climbed into the bed with her.

  The heat of the moment had gone, but it didn’t seem to matter. He still wanted her. The hand that touched her hair, her cheek, her lips, told her that. And Dee realised she’d been waiting for this ever since her first night at the tower. She felt nerves, not fear. She loved this man.

  ‘I’m afraid I have nothing.’ He brushed a lock of hair from her face. ‘So this time’s for you.’

  Dee was slow to realise what he meant. No protection. She hadn’t even thought about it.

  She should have been grateful to him, but it told her how used he was to this situation. She was one of many. She had to remember that.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ He misunderstood her frown. ‘If you don’t like anything, just say… Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ Dee wondered if it was too late to say stop.

  He gazed across the pillow at her, and the idea drifted away. When he softly demanded, ‘Kiss me,’ she didn’t hesitate.

  She leaned over him and he lay back on the pillow, his hand lightly caressing the nape of her neck. She lowered her head to his and he lay passive for a moment, perhaps needing a sign of her willingness. He got it in the sweet touch of her lips moving on his, and he didn’t wait for
more.

  He caught Dee by surprise as he slid an arm down her bare back, holding her body to his, while the other hand was in her hair, cradling her head as he stole her breath and her reason with a kiss so intimate it left her shaking.

  He was still kissing her when he rolled her over until she was on her back and he was above her, then his mouth moved elsewhere—everywhere—her face, her cheek, her hair, then trailed downwards to her neck, her shoulders, his lips leaving their imprint, gently biting, licking the light sweat on her skin, tasting her, tormenting her till she could bear it no longer and, her fingers entwined in his hair, put her breast to the mouth that sought it.

  He took it with a groan of pleasure and made sweet, agonising circles with his tongue until she ached for the roughly sensual bite and play of his teeth and mouth. She moaned, unable to stop, as he sucked on one breast and touched the other, making longing turn to pain and spreading its sweet agony through her body.

  He knew, knew it all—how to touch her, where, when. She was gasping by the time he slid his hand to her belly, where desire furled and unfurled like a living thing at the core of her being. She was ready yet not ready, recoiling instinctively when he finally touched her between the silk of her thighs.

  He kissed her mouth again, her throat, her breasts, until she opened for him and the slow, pleasuring stroke of his fingers, and moaned aloud at each wave that was rising and falling, flowing through her, washing over her, higher and higher till she cried aloud in final understanding of his words—this time’s for you…this time’s for you!

  She opened her eyes wide in that moment and met his. She felt that her face was bare, all emotion exposed, but she could do nothing to cover it. She lay there catching her breath while he lay beside her, watching, knowing, his hand now a tender caress on her arm.

  There was tenderness in his voice, too, as he finally murmured, ‘I didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘No,’ she choked out.

  ‘Good.’ He smiled briefly, before saying in more serious tones, ‘You were…are a virgin, aren’t you?’

  Dee nodded. She supposed it must have been obvious.

  ‘Does it matter?’ Her tone implied it didn’t matter to her. She wanted him to be the first…wanted him to be the last.

  ‘It seemed wrong, with you so much younger, but now…’ He shook his head as if everything had changed. ‘I don’t know any more. I’m not sure what you want from me.’

  His love. That was all. That was everything.

  But Dee was no fool. She knew how the game was played.

  ‘Isn’t this enough?’ She smiled as if it were for her.

  He looked uncertain. Perhaps he couldn’t believe his luck—a woman who didn’t try to tie him down.

  Dee felt she had to convince him. She slid her arms round his neck once more and pulled his mouth down to hers. If he hesitated, it was only briefly. The next moment he was kissing her with an intimacy that told her desire hadn’t faded for him—or for her—and that all idea of restraint was fast disappearing.

  Later Dee acknowledged she would have done anything for him—anything he asked, anything he wanted, regardless.

  Only time ran out for them with the sound of a car crunching into the driveway.

  They broke off their lovemaking and raised their heads.

  Panic crossed Dee’s face as she realised who it had to be. She looked up at Baxter’s face, expecting her feelings to be reflected there.

  He merely grimaced. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll just be Cat.’

  ‘Just Cat!’ she cried back, already scrambling from underneath him.

  He let her go, laughing dryly, ‘Cat’s well aware I sleep with women.’

  He seemed amused by the situation, but Dee wasn’t.

  ‘It’s not your reputation that bothers me,’ she retorted as, modesty forgotten, she dived across the bed for her shirt.

  Baxter remained cool, leaning back to admire the view. ‘You have a birthmark.’

  Dee knew she had a birthmark—knew where, too. She jumped off the bed, dragging the quilt round her to hide it.

  She didn’t think of the consequences until she turned to discover him, quiltless, and making no effort to cover himself. An image of long limbs and a flat, muscular torso imprinted itself in her brain before she swerved her eyes upwards to his face.

  ‘Please.’ She couldn’t bear to have Cat think she was easy—even if she was!

  Her distress registered, and Baxter finally rose to pull on his jeans and shirt. He did so calmly, slipping, sockless, into his shoes while a desperate Dee searched for her night-shirt. He found that first, too, and helped her into it, bending to kiss her mouth as he did so.

  Dee’s heart stopped for a moment. It was a deeply sensual kiss. Even with his sister at the door and sanity returned, he still wanted her.

  Dee hadn’t time to sort it out in her head as they heard Cat and Ewan entering the hall, then calling their names. Of course; they would have seen Baxter’s car outside.

  ‘Make the bed,’ he instructed. ‘And if they come in here leave the talking to me.’

  Dee did as she was told, desperately straightening the cover and pillows.

  She was aware of him opening a window, and for a second she thought he was going to climb out of it. But he remained where he was, calling out, ‘In here, Sis,’ as footsteps approached the door.

  Cat entered, then stopped dead in the doorway, eyes going from Dee, combing desperate fingers through a mess of hair, to her brother, casually standing by the window.

  Dee greeted her with a smile so fixed it was painful.

  Baxter was a shade more natural as he drawled, ‘Dee’s feeling hot. The window was jammed.’

  ‘Right.’ Cat Macdonald’s eyes rested on a dishevelled Dee before switching past her to the bedside table.

  Dee followed her gaze to find Baxter’s wristwatch still where he’d left it under the lamp.

  Then Cat’s attention returned to Baxter, noting the sweat on his brow with a dry, ‘You seem to be suffering from the heat as well… Perhaps you need a cold shower.’

  Cat’s tongue was firmly in her cheek as she traded looks with her brother.

  ‘Good idea.’ He greeted the suggestion with a smile. ‘I’ll be off… Unless, of course, Dee wants to come home now?’ His eyes fixed on Dee, clearly asking her to go back to the tower with him.

  She knew if she did they would continue what they’d started, but then what? Carry on acting as normal? Get up the next day and pretend nothing had happened? She couldn’t do that.

  She stood there, biting her lip, wanting to go, wanting to stay.

  Cat sensed her indecision, and said, ‘That’s silly. Dee isn’t even dressed…in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Oh, I noticed.’ Baxter deflected any censure with a smile.

  ‘Yes, and I wasn’t born yesterday,’ his sister countered, her tone wry.

  Dee alone seemed bothered by the look of the thing. Maybe brother and sister were used to such situations. Maybe Baxter Ross had seduced half the countryside under Cat’s indulgent eye.

  ‘Odd you should say that,’ Baxter ran on, ‘but Dee was.’

  ‘Was what?’

  ‘Born yesterday.’

  ‘Really?’ Cat’s eyes moved back to Dee. ‘You should have said. Which one was it again?’

  ‘My eighteenth,’ Dee relayed.

  ‘Eighteenth?’ Cat repeated, as if it was a surprise to her, then arched a brow in Baxter’s direction.

  His lips quirked slightly. ‘All right, I know. I don’t need the lecture.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to give one,’ his sister denied. ‘I just hope you’ve thought about what you’re doing.’

  ‘I have, believe me,’ Baxter confirmed dryly.

  Dee realised her age was the issue, and resented the two-way discussion that excluded her. Did Baxter still think she was a child?

  He tried a slanting smile on her and she blanked him.

  ‘Well, congratulations.�
�� Cat reverted to a lighter tone. ‘Eighteen. It’s the big one these days. We should mark it.’

  ‘I’m going to,’ Dee returned. ‘I’ll send you an invitation.’

  ‘Invitation? You’re having a party?’ Cat enquired.

  Dee shook her head. ‘Wedding. I’m getting married.’

  ‘Getting married?’ Cat echoed with a gasp, then veered between shock and apparent delight. ‘You mean…? I don’t believe it! Baxter, why didn’t you say something? How fantastic!’

  Baxter didn’t answer. His gaze was intent on Dee; she had certainly wiped the smile off his face. She knew then there would be no future for her with this man.

  Dee let him sweat a moment longer before she added, ‘To Joseph.’

  ‘Joseph?’ Cat echoed. ‘But I thought…’

  It was obvious what she’d thought. Perhaps Baxter had thought it, too—that Dee was mad enough to believe marriage was on the agenda.

  He looked furious, but then they were back where they’d started, before he’d tried to seduce her into changing her mind.

  ‘Is this true?’ Cat enquired of him, now totally bewildered.

  ‘Ask her.’ Dark blue eyes bored into Dee’s.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Dee held his gaze.

  ‘I don’t understand this.’ Cat was still trying to read signals, feeling she’d misread them earlier. ‘You’re going to marry Joseph… Because of the immigration thing?’

  Dee nodded.

  ‘And that’s all?’ Cat added.

  ‘Who knows with her?’ Baxter’s mouth had gone into a thin, contemptuous line.

  ‘You approve?’ His sister queried of him.

  ‘Does it matter?’ His expression said he’d had enough.

  He pushed himself away from the wall and crossed to the door.

  Dee’s voice stopped him in his tracks. ‘Yes, it does. Joseph will only do it on your say-so, and you know that.’

  He rounded on her in fury. ‘So what do you want from me? My blessing? God, you know how to twist the knife.’

  He took a threatening step towards her, and his sister interceded, ‘Please, both of you, this is crazy!’

  But Baxter barely listened. ‘All right, you have it,’ he growled at Dee. ‘My blessing… In fact, why don’t you go the whole hog and ask me to give you away?’