Chain of Love

by Anne Stuart

  “How dare you!” she fumed, fighting the delicious lassitude that washed over her. “You must be drunk. Get out of my bed!”

  In answer he pulled her closer still into his warmth, and against her will she felt her body melt against his. He must have sensed her weakening, for he gave her a gentle, approving kiss on one bare shoulder. “That’s right,” he whispered, his breath hot on her skin. “All we’re going to do is sleep together. For now.” A moment later he was, to Cathy’s mingled outrage, relief, and amazement, sound asleep.

  She knew afterward that she was partly to blame for what happened. Still, he had insisted on getting in bed with her, against her vociferous protests. So was it her fault that hours later, half waking, half asleep, she had snuggled deeper against the long, warm body wrapped around her? That she had, sighing peacefully, turned in his arms and rested her sleepy head on his hair-roughened chest, had slid her arm around his lean waist and pressed her slender, unconsciously yearning body to his. One of his hands had moved down her back, to urge her slender hips against his, while the other gently cupped her chin. Opening her sleep-filled eyes, she gazed into Sin’s probing hazel stare. He gave her more than enough time to turn her head, to elude his slowly descending mouth. Her arms tightened around his waist, her fingers splayed out across his leanly muscled back, as she willingly drew him closer. With a muffled groan his mouth met hers.

  There was nothing tentative about this kiss, none of the reassuring gentleness of the night before. He kissed her long and deep and hard, with a kind of savage tenderness that was inexplicably arousing. Pressing her back into the soft mattress, he half covered her body with his, his long, bare legs holding the lower part of her body captive, as he plundered her willing mouth. His hand, which had been stroking her neck with long, sure strokes, moved down to caress one full, straining breast, his thumb rubbing gently until the tip hardened in fevered response beneath the silk gown. All her free will seemed drained away, leaving her a grateful captive of his knowing hands.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered against her soft mouth. “I want you so much.” The hoarse words warmed her fluttering heart as she pressed closer.

  Trailing fiery kisses down her jaw and the slender column of her neck, his mouth caught her breast, his tongue flicking over the rosy-tipped peak. Her nightgown had somehow gotten pushed down to her waist, leaving both breasts free for his sensuous attention, and as he moved his mouth to the other nipple she moaned deep in her throat. His hand trailed along one slender thigh, moving upward with inexorable determination, until he reached the innermost center of her being. She stiffened for a moment, then arched her back, reaching blindly for the waves of pleasure he was coaxing from her.

  She slid her hands lower on his firm, muscled back, reaching the waistband of his shorts, and then stopped, confused. Greg hadn’t liked her to be too bold—he wanted her lying there, passive, accepting his orders. She tried to blot out the memory, concentrating on Sin’s wickedly clever hands and mouth, and a small moan of pleasure escaped from the back of her throat.

  “That’s it,” he whispered against her silken skin. “Let me love you. I could make it so good for you, if you’ll let me love you. Please, Cathy.”

  Through the sinking, swirling mass of sensations and emotions his enticing voice filtered through. “Let me love you,” he’d said. Greg had another word for it. Many other words, all obscene, all necessary to him, the constant litany of filth as he hurt her.

  “No!” she cried, yanking herself out of his arms and stumbling from the bed. “No, no, no, no!” she wept, shaking with panic and something else as she huddled on the floor, her arms wrapped around her shivering body. Pressing her face against the rough cotton bedspread, she sobbed in frustration and despair.

  There was nothing but silence from the man in the bed for a long, breathless moment. Cathy was too miserable to look, certain he hated her, certain he was in a towering rage, so that when she felt gentle hands on her bare shoulder she flinched away in panic.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Cathy,” Sin said gently, reaching down and lifting her shaking body into his arms, holding her against his broad, bare chest. Carefully skirting the bed, he moved to the upholstered loveseat on the far side of the room, sitting down very carefully so as not to disturb his comforting hold on her.

  Cathy knew she had no right to accept his comfort when she had led him on so shamelessly. “I’m so sorry,” she wept into his warm, bare shoulder, awash with guilt, fear, and frustration. “But I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Shhh,” he soothed, stroking her back with long, sure, calming strokes. “I know you can’t. Not right now. It’s my fault anyway. I didn’t mean to rush you—I thought I had more control. It’s just that you’re so damned enticing.” He reached a hand under her chin, forcing her tear-drenched face up to meet his. “Come on, Cathy. It’s not so bad, is it? The big bad wolf stopped in time, didn’t he?” He smiled down at her, a dazzling smile that melted the last of her panic.

  “I guess so,” she whispered, managing a shaky smile in return. He stared at her for a long, breathless moment, and Cathy wondered if he was going to kiss her again. If he did, if he took her back to that bed, she didn’t think she’d be able to stop him.

  Gently but determinedly he put her to one side, standing up and stretching, moving quite definitely out of her reach. “Why don’t you get a shower while I go for my run?” he suggested, grabbing a sweatshirt out of the closet. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” He disappeared into the bathroom and emerged with a towel.

  Cathy watched him from her perch on the love seat. “How much do you usually run?” she questioned, striving to put a casual note in things.

  “Usually a couple of miles. This morning, however, I think I’m going to need to run twice that much, and take a nice, long swim. I’m afraid I have a lot of excess energy to work off.” He bent over her, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her troubled eyes. “See you at breakfast?” His voice and touch were incredibly gentle.

  “I...I guess so.”

  “Good. I’ll be hungry,” he announced with a grin that bordered just slightly on a leer, and left. Cathy watched him go with mixed emotions, foremost among them regret. And a stubbornly optimistic sense of promise.

  To Cathy’s immense relief Meg and Charles joined them for breakfast. To have had to make casual conversation facing Sin’s tender, all too knowing eyes would have been a bit more than she was up to just then. Fortunately, the other three were all in excellent spirits, with more than enough to chatter about. Cathy would have thought her abstraction had gone unnoticed, had it not been for the small attentions Sin paid her. A soft touch on her arm as he offered her muffins, the reassuring momentary press of his knee against hers, the lingering of his fingers as he handed her the salt.

  “I can’t believe I feel so splendid!” Meg crowed. “It must be having you here, darling,” she purred to her husband. “This is the first morning I’ve had without nausea in three weeks. I feel like doing something to celebrate. What should we do, Cath?”

  All Cathy’s attention at that moment had been directed to the strong backs of Sin’s hands, the light splattering of dark hairs, the thin, long ringers, strong knuckles and well-shaped nails.

  Hands that had already discovered ways to give her untold pleasures. Startled by Meg’s question, she looked up, to meet Sin’s knowing gaze. She blushed, a deep, fiery red. “I—I don’t know. Whatever you’d like to do,” she said lamely.

  “I know what you can do,” Sin broke in, the light in his eyes telling Cathy he had read her mind. “You can go shopping. There are a few things I want to do in town, and I would be more than happy to take you in. We can spend the morning on our various errands and get back here in time for lunch and an afternoon swim. How does that sound?”

  “Perfectly divine,” Meg breathed. “Don’t you think so, Cathy?”

  “Fine. But I don’t really have anything I need to buy,” she murmured.

  “Now ther
e I take issue with you.” Sin’s eyes were laughing. “What was that pink and green flowered monstrosity on the back of the bathroom door?”

  Cathy’s blush deepened. Sin’s tone and words sounded so terribly connubial. “That’s my bathing suit,” she replied with a trace of defiance.

  “I was afraid of that,” he sighed. “Your only one, no doubt.”

  “One is sufficient,” she replied haughtily.

  Sin ignored her, turning to an amused Meg. “I can rely on you to see that she buys something more suitable, can’t I, Meg? Suitably scant, I mean.”

  “You can, indeed,” her traitorous sister agreed enthusiastically. “I’ve always told her it’s a damn shame to have her lovely body and then cover it with old women’s clothing.”

  “Am I to be consulted in this?” Cathy asked with dangerous calm.

  “Oh, by all means,” Sin said airily. “I’m sure Meg will let you have your choice, as long as you restrain your Quakerish tendencies. After all, this entire hotel thinks you’re my woman, and I have some standards to maintain.”

  “You—you—” Words of outrage failed her. She had to content herself with a murderous glare that Sin met with a bland smile. A sudden, wicked plan began to form in her mind. She would buy a new bathing suit if he insisted. The largest, most old-fashioned, enveloping old lady’s swimsuit she could find. Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it, she thought with satisfaction.

  That plan, however, was much easier to envision than to carry out. The small, elegant boutiques that were scattered about St. Alphonse’s main city of Verlage had nothing that would cater to senior citizens. The most enveloping of swimsuits were demure two-piece ensembles that still showed an alarming expanse of skin.

  “Foiled again, eh, sis?” Meg questioned with amusement, having been the recipient of Cathy’s evil plan. “Serves you right. Of course, you can always reverse your plan.”

  Cathy was in the midst of perusing an unbelievably scanty sea-green bikini, wondering who in the world would have the nerve to wear it. Although the scraps of material looked better suited to a precocious ten-year-old, the tag and label insisted it was her size. “How would I do that?” she inquired absently, holding the suit up to the light.

  “You could buy the skimpiest, slinkiest swim-suit available. Something so outrageous Sin would be sorry he ever opened his mouth. The one you’re holding looks like a good candidate,” Meg observed.

  “Oh, heavens, I couldn’t do that,” Cathy laughed, quickly shoving the suit back on the rack with a clatter of plastic hangers.

  “And why not? You haven’t got an ounce of extra flesh on your body. There’s no reason why you, of all people, couldn’t get away with some-thing as skimpy as that.”

  Cathy’s eyes strayed back to the rack. “He would be flabbergasted,” she admitted with a wicked chuckle.

  “He’d be speechless,” Meg encouraged her. “And that’s something I’d like to see. Sin always seems in complete control.”

  Not always, Cathy thought silently, retrieving the suit. “Maybe I’ll try it on,” she said aloud.

  “Don’t do that. If you try it on you might chicken out. You’re a perfect size eight; you know that as well as I do. Just ask the lady to wrap it for you. The color matches your eyes perfectly.”

  On the verge of backing down, Cathy hesitated, torn. “It does?”

  “Absolutely. Look, let me buy it for you, as a present,” Meg urged.

  “Nope. I’ll buy it myself,” she said with sudden decisiveness. “After all, it’s time I learned to live dangerously. I...” Her voice trailed off as she headed toward the smiling saleslady. Her eye had caught the dress behind her. “Oh, my heavens.”

  “I see what you mean.” Meg’s voice was awed. “Who in the world would have the nerve to wear a dress like that? Not that it isn’t beautiful. But gracious, it would cling to every single line and curve... and that hot pink! I’ve never seen such a seductive dress in my entire life.” She reached out and touched a silky fold reverently, sighing loudly. “That’s the sort of dress I’ve always wished I could wear. But I just wouldn’t have the nerve.” She eyed her sister’s meditative expression with a secret smile, then added to the effect. “I couldn’t get away with it, though. I haven’t got the frontage to fill out that decolletage, and there doesn’t seem to be any back to the thing at all. Why, it would fall right off me. But God, what a dress!”

  “What size is it?” Cathy asked in a curiously resigned tone.

  “Size eight, mademoiselle.” The saleslady had rushed over, quite willing to be of service in the matter of the most expensive dress in the shop. “Would mademoiselle care to try it on?”

  “Oh, why don’t you?” Meg encouraged her eagerly. “Just for fun! No one will see you—it would be such a lark. How often does one come across a dress like that in one’s life? It looks as if it was designed with your body in mind.”

  “No, I won’t try it on,” Cathy said with unshakable certainty, and Meg’s and the saleslady’s faces fell. She turned to her sister with a mischievous smile. “After all, as you just said, I’m a perfect size eight. If you would just wrap that with the bathing suit?” she asked the beaming shop-keeper.

  By the time the two sisters met up with Sin and Charles they were absolutely laden down with packages, all containing clothes for Cathy. Silk blouses in jade green, hot pink, and deep plum, lean-fitting linen pants, evening sandals with tiny gold straps, and several pairs of quite the shortest shorts Cathy had ever seen filled their packages. Sin watched their approach with amusement, taking the bulk of their purchases in his arms.

  “You didn’t buy anything after all?” Meg questioned as they headed toward the Land Rover with its striped awning. “I thought you had urgent shopping to do.”

  “Good things come in small packages, nosy,” he replied mysteriously, and refused to say any-thing more.

  It took her a surprisingly long time to put all her clothes away after the light, sinfully delicious lunch served at Pirate’s Cove. Silky little wisps of underwear replaced her serviceable cotton briefs and plain white bras; the pink dress she hid in the back of her closet. Her old bathing suit had mysteriously disappeared, thanks, no doubt, to Sin’s meddling. One look at her body in the new, sea-green bikini was enough to send her rummaging through every corner of the spacious room. It was well and truly gone.

  “I can’t be seen in public in this,” she gasped aloud to the mirror, tugging uselessly at the thin fabric. Her high, round breasts seemed about to spill from the thin, banded top, and the bottom was cut high on the thigh, slashed low across the hipbones, and just managed to cover her firm, rounded buttocks. If she didn’t die of embarrassment she would undoubtedly strangle on it as it came off when she tried to swim. Of all the stupid, frivolous ideas. The color may have matched her eyes, but who was going to look at her eyes when everything else under the sun was exposed? She let out a helpless little groan, shaking her long blond hair down about her shoulders in a vain effort to provide more covering. The sun-tipped strands stopped several inches short of the rounded curve of her breast.

  “I wondered what was keeping you,” Sin’s lazy voice came from the open door. “I was afraid you might have—” His voice trailed off as his wide eyes swept over the full, scantily clad length of her. Straightening from his lounging position in the doorway, he moved into the room, shutting the door behind him with an ominous little click. His face was completely unreadable in the early afternoon sunlight streaming in from the sliding glass door. Very slowly he walked all the way around her, his eyes raking her body in a fashion that in anyone else would have been incredibly offensive. With Sin, however, the effect made her tremble slightly with confused longing.

  When he had finished his circuit and his eyes finally lifted to meet hers, there was an unmistakable light in their hazel depths, and the dimple in his right cheek was in full evidence.

  “Are you trying to give me high blood pressure?” he asked mildly enough.

&n
bsp; “I’ve seen people wearing less on the beach,” she said in self-defense, not sure whether she actually had.

  “At this particular moment I’m not interested in what other people are wearing,” he said huskily, moving away from her and heading toward his dresser. “I guess my shopping was successful after all. I bought you a present.” His eyes flickered briefly over her body, then back to her face again. “Something to go with your new image.”

  He tossed her a small, velvet jeweler’s box. Startled, she caught it with one hand. “Don’t look so frightened.” He grinned suddenly. “It’s not an engagement ring.”

  “I hadn’t thought it was,” she said with chilly dignity, wondering for not the first time how he managed to read her mind. Quickly she snapped open the lid. Nestled in the black velvet was a long, thin, gold chain, with a small, clear emerald. “What-what is it?”

  He moved up close to her, his lean, strong body dwarfing hers, and took the box out of nerveless fingers. “It’s a chain for your waist. It’s supposed to be worn with a bikini.” Suiting action to words, he unclasped the tiny clasp and drew it around her waist, his arms snaking around her. She drew in her breath at the potent touch of his hands on her bare flesh, and he laughed. “You don’t need to hold your breath—it’s more than big enough,” he said casually, reclasping it and letting it fall. It rested just above her hipbones, the emerald winking up at her.

  “Sin,” she breathed, mesmerized. “I can’t accept it.”

  “Why not?” He stepped back to admire the effect.

  “Well, it’s too... expensive.”

  “I can afford it.”

  “But it’s too...intimate.”

  His grin broadened, threatening to split his tanned face. “Nothing’s as intimate as that damned bathing suit,” he said. “And I thought you’d learned I don’t take no for an answer.”

  “You did this morning,” she said breathlessly, then felt herself blushing.

  He surveyed her for a moment, and then, before she could divine his intention, he moved toward her, put a hand behind her neck, and kissed her briefly and quite, quite thoroughly. Her mouth was seared by the contact, but before she had a chance to respond he moved away. “Now go on out and get some sun on that magnificent body of yours,” he ordered lightly. “I’ll be along shortly.”