Back in the Headlines

by Sharon Kendrick

  The older staff had moaned about the extra work but Roxy had been glad of nature’s intervention. Glad that the wintry transformation had distracted her from the infinitely more disturbing memory of what had happened in the picture gallery at lunchtime.

  Despite the icy weather, she could feel her cheeks burning as she let herself into her cottage. She quickly shut the door on the inclement weather and could see from the lit fire and biscuit crumbs that Amy was at home.

  ‘Hello?’ she called loudly.

  There was a thump from upstairs and then an answering voice. ‘I’m in the bath!”

  Roxy was pleased not to have to face her housemate. She felt so shaken by her encounter with Titus that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to have a coherent conversation with anyone—let alone the bubbly Amy who still couldn’t quite believe she was sharing a cottage with an ex-member of The Lollipops.

  Shaking the snow from her jacket and pulling off her boots, Roxy walked over to the fire and stood with her palms splayed out in front of the dancing flames.

  Was she insane—to have been so eager and responsive when her aristocratic boss had seduced her? She grimaced. Not that he’d needed to do much actual seducing. She had launched herself into his arms like a heat-seeking missile and if Vanessa hadn’t suddenly appeared, she wondered if she would have let him do what he said he wanted to do.

  Lay her right down there on that carpet and—

  She felt the tension in her body as she remembered the harsh way he had bitten out those words. Yet she could hardly blame him for being so graphic when she’d been leading him on. Making those flippant little comments and smiling those knowing little smiles. But when he’d started kissing her … something had changed. It had stopped being a game and it had felt deadly serious. She’d gone up in flames—as if he’d put some kind of spell on her. She tried telling herself that it was because it had been so long since she’d made love that she’d responded to him so passionately. Wasn’t that an infinitely preferable reason for her behaviour? Because the alternative was that Titus Alexander had liberated emotions which up until now had been locked away.

  A fierce pounding on the front door startled her, but not nearly as much as the muffled sound of an imperious voice.

  ‘Open the bloody door! ’

  Heart racing, she pulled open the door and was almost knocked over by the fierce wind which gusted in. A tall figure, covered in white, stepped inside and despite her confused thoughts, Roxy started laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ growled Titus as he shook the thick layer of snow from his dark overcoat.

  ‘You look like a snowman!’

  ‘And right now I feel like one. For God’s sake, let me in.’

  ‘You can’t come in!’ she muttered.

  ‘What do you mean, I can’t come in? I can do any damned thing I please.’ He walked straight past her and thrust a bottle of wine into her hand. ‘I come bearing gifts—so why don’t you go and open this, like a good girl?’

  Roxy’s fingers automatically closed around the bottle but his breathtaking arrogance combined with somebody calling her a ‘good girl’ was enough to tempt her into telling him just what he could do with his wine. But her thoughts were far more focused on the very real fear that Amy would come bouncing downstairs at any moment, clad only in a towel.

  She put the bottle of wine down on the dresser and turned to him. ‘Titus, I mean it. You can’t—’

  ‘It’s too late for that,’ he said savagely and pulled her into his arms to kiss her.

  It was a hungry, almost brutal kiss which instantly drove all thoughts of Amy clean out of Roxy’s mind. It obliterated everything but the desire to have more. His face was icy but his lips were warm and she could feel snowflakes melting on her cheeks as they fell from his tawny hair. Unsteadily, she reached up to grip the broad lines of his shoulders, her fingers kneading luxuriously against their powerful musculature.

  ‘Titus,’ she breathed. ‘This is insane.’

  ‘Now that,’ he agreed unsteadily, ‘I would agree with. But you know something? It just feels too good to stop.’

  His mouth came down on hers again, blotting out all her doubts and uncertainties. His hands moulded the shape of her body and now he was moving one of them down towards her belly and was rucking up her skirt. She could feel the grazing urgency of his fingers as they moved over her thigh and she moaned as they slipped aside the panel of her knickers to delve into her molten heat. ‘Oh, God, Titus. You can’t—’

  ‘Can’t I?’ His breath felt warm against her cheek, his heart pounding so ferociously that he thought it might explode. ‘Don’t you like that?’

  ‘You know I do,’ she gasped.

  ‘Well, so do I.’ His breathing was laboured; he felt more excited than he’d felt in a long time—perhaps ever. He wanted to devour her. To taste and touch every delicious inch of her. Luxuriously, he strummed his finger against her aroused flesh, wanting her compliant and gasping in his arms before he carried her upstairs to bed.

  ‘T-Titus.’

  ‘Shh.’ He silenced her with another kiss, hearing the urgent little moans she made in time with her rising breath. He was luxuriating in the sticky, sensual feel of her until he became vaguely aware of a distant sound and he wrenched his lips away from hers, though his finger kept moving. ‘What’s that noise?’

  ‘My … my housemate,’ she managed to gasp.

  ‘Your housemate?’ he echoed furiously.

  ‘Y-yes. She’s … she’s in the bath!’

  Furiously, he snatched his hand free and took a step away from her intoxicating proximity. ‘This is fast becoming a farce,’ he hissed.

  Despite her own deep sense of frustration, Roxy couldn’t resist the hint of a smile. Because suddenly, with that dark, truculent expression on his face and his sensual lips forming a decided pout, she could see exactly what he must have looked like as a little boy.

  ‘Titus not getting what he wants?’ she teased as she struggled to get her breath back.

  His eyes met hers. ‘I’d say it was more a case of Roxanne not getting what she wants, wouldn’t you?’ he murmured as his gaze flicked deliberately over her heaving breasts. ‘Does she go out? Your housemate?’

  Roxy nodded, that brazenly sexual scrutiny of his making it difficult for her to get any words out. ‘Y-yes. In fact, she’s getting ready to go out now. She works in the village pub some evenings.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘She leaves here at seven. Titus, you must go. Please. Unless you want her to come downstairs and find you.’

  For a moment, Titus reflected on the irony of being shown out of one of his own properties by this most junior member of his staff. And the sight of her ruffled hair and flushed cheeks was enough to tempt his best resolve. Couldn’t he just take her upstairs and lock the door—and to hell with the housemate? Surely she didn’t have to share a bedroom? But sanity prevailed as with an almighty effort he walked over to the door.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he promised on a silken whisper as he pulled the door open and went out into the blizzard.

  Roxy was trembling when she shut the door behind him and she ran upstairs to her tiny bedroom, unwilling to face Amy when she was still in such a state. She leaned on the dressing table to support herself and closed her eyes, overcome by a combination of guilt and pleasure.

  Had that really just happened? Had Titus Alexander just come to her house and almost brought her to orgasm, while she had clung to him like a wild woman and almost let him?

  She glanced at her watch as she heard Amy leave the bathroom and then begin to move around in her bedroom next door. It was now gone six and Titus had said he was coming back at seven. The question was whether she geared herself up to telling him that it was a big mistake and that she’d changed her mind. Because wouldn’t that be the most sensible thing to do? For both of them.

  She felt the rapid beat of her heart, knowing that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She didn’t want her e
nduring memory of Titus to be some furtive little encounter on the doorstep of one of his properties. Didn’t it feel like for ever since she’d felt passion like this? She wanted to make love with him properly and with no holds barred. She wanted to hold him in her arms afterwards and to cradle his tawny head until he fell asleep. She wanted to kiss his skin and to breathe in his own, very particular scent.

  Walking into the still steam-filled bathroom, she turned on the bath. She would pull out all the stops before he got here, and then, then—

  ‘Roxy!’

  Above the spluttering gurgle of the hot tap, Roxy lifted her head to hear Amy’s shout. ‘What?’

  ‘Can you come here for a second?’

  For a moment Roxy felt a pang of genuine panic, as if she’d left some incriminating piece of evidence to show what had just taken place.

  With reluctant steps she went downstairs to see Amy wrapping a chiffon scarf around her neck, prior to leaving for her part-time job at the local pub. She often complained that the Torchester estate didn’t pay her nearly enough, though Roxy suspected that the pub work had more to do with the male eye-candy regularly seen propping up the bar.

  She and Amy had hit it off immediately—though Amy’s friendly attitude had been tinged with disbelief when she’d recognised Roxy as having been a member of The Lollipops.

  This happened less and less—in fact, it hardly happened at all, these days. Roxy wondered if it was because she was getting too old to be associated with a girl-band, or maybe her undyed hair and minimal make-up was super efficient as a disguise. Roxy didn’t mind. At least not being recognised meant you didn’t have to endure all those questions which always began with, ‘Didn’t you used to be …?’ and ended up by making her feel a failure.

  But Amy had been a genuine fan of the band—she’d bought Sweet and Sticky, which had been The Lollipops’ first album. She’d even been to one of their concerts—the one where Justina had famously been wearing the sequined hot pants. Her genuine liking of the band’s music had made Roxy feel a rare pang of nostalgia for her crazy days on tour with the group.

  Amy gave the chiffon scarf a final twist and pointed at the dresser. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What?’ questioned Roxy, still feeling slightly dazed by Titus’s provocative visit.

  ‘This!’ Amy picked up the bottle of wine and glanced down at the label. ‘Chateau Margaux,’ she read, before looking up to give Roxy a questioning look. ‘Now, I’m no wine buff but even I know that this isn’t your average plonk. Where did you get it?’

  ‘I …’ Roxy sucked in a deep breath. ‘Titus gave it to me.’

  ‘Titus?’

  ‘Um, I mean—the Duke.’

  Amy’s brows did another swift elevation. ‘The Duke gave you a bottle of expensive wine?’

  Roxy nodded. ‘Yes, he did. Because … because I managed to catch one of his expensive Georgian glasses before it tumbled to the ground. Did you realise that those glasses cost over six hundred quid?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Amy slowly.

  ‘So I did him a big favour, really. Saved him a lot of money.’ Roxy flashed a smile as she consoled herself with the thought that it was the truth—or at least a variation of the truth. No need to tell her housemate that the glass wouldn’t have been in danger if the Duke himself hadn’t walked into the room and made her fingers tremble so much that she’d almost dropped it. ‘Gotta run,’ she breathed. ‘Mustn’t let my bath overflow!’

  Roxy ran back upstairs to the tiny bathroom just in time to stop water from slopping over the sides, and she had to let the plug out for a minute before she risked getting in. Her bath was rapid rather than relaxing and afterwards she pulled on a long, crushed velvet skirt and teamed it with a beautiful cashmere sweater she’d had for ages, but which she hardly ever wore because she wanted to preserve it. She brushed her hair and applied lip-gloss and perfume—but it wasn’t until she heard Amy leaving that she risked going downstairs and she flinched as she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror.

  She looked …

  She swallowed.

  She couldn’t ever remember looking quite so shiny before. Her eyes were glittering wildly and her lips glimmered with their shimmering of gloss. Her dark-blonde hair hung in a silky-satin curtain over her shoulders and the combination of cashmere and velvet made her look … expensive. As if she’d made an effort. Well, she had made an effort.

  But the realisation of how much was riding on this made her hesitate as she wondered if she was in danger of becoming some kind of laughing stock. She had spruced herself up for the Duke after that shocking demonstration of how quickly he could turn her on. She was making it very clear that she was a very willing participant in all this—and surely that was the wrong message to send out, particularly to a man like him. Yet it didn’t seem that she had an alternative, not when she wanted him so badly.

  The minute hand on the clock ticked by so slowly and she started wondering if perhaps the battery was running out. She resisted the urge to go and peep from behind the curtains but by ten past seven, she was climbing the walls with frustration and embarrassment.

  He wasn’t coming.

  It was the worst case of all scenarios.

  He had decided that this was a big mistake and best forgotten.

  So how on earth would she face him next time she saw him?

  But just after she’d pulled the cork on the wine, having decided to drink at least half the contents of the bottle as some kind of miserable compensation, there was a loud banging on the door.

  And all thoughts of what she should or shouldn’t say were forgotten as she opened the door and fell into his arms.

  His kiss was heated and urgent, his embrace hard and possessive. Roxy made a distracted little sound as Titus moved away from her, shutting the door on the snowy night. And then he came back and tangled his fingers in her hair, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her eager face for a moment before asking coolly, ‘I’m assuming she’s gone?’

  Roxy nodded.

  He pushed her up against the wall and then pressed his body up against hers in a very deliberate display of masculine mastery. She could feel the proud jut of his hips and the steely shaft of his erection as it nudged against her and she drew in a deep breath of excitement mingled with a stupid kind of nervousness.

  ‘Do you know how slowly these last two hours have passed?’ he questioned unsteadily as he pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her velvet skirt.

  ‘I th-think I have a good idea,’ she breathed.

  His fingers were brushing against her bare skin and he was murmuring little sounds of appreciation into her ear and instantly Roxy felt the melting response of her hungry body. And suddenly she was afraid it was all going to happen too quickly, the way it had done before. That it would be the perfunctory pursuit of pleasure and then he might leave—and she wouldn’t get a chance to savour this magnificent man. Perhaps he read her thoughts—or maybe it suited her to think that—because he lifted his head and his grey eyes narrowed in question.

  ‘Are you going to take me upstairs?’ he whispered, his finger finding her belly button and kneading at it with erotic thoroughness. ‘Or are you angling to have me do it to you right here, up against the wall?’

  ‘No,’ she whispered back. ‘Come … come with me.’ She turned and headed for the staircase, acutely aware of him behind her—her heart pounding as she led him into her room. Briefly, she saw him glance round in surprise and she thought that the fairly featureless little bedroom must look so very different from his own, back in the great house.

  Outside, their lives were so different, she thought. But in this anonymous little room, those differences didn’t matter. He might be a Duke and she might be a singer who’d fallen on hard times, but in this one very fundamental act, at least, they were equals.

  ‘Is this better?’ she questioned as she went into his waiting arms.

  ‘Much. And this is better still.’ His mouth brush
ed over hers with featherlight tease. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered but the unexpected tenderness was tantalising. He began to kiss her again and suddenly Roxy understood why women sometimes said it made them feel faint when a man kissed them. She felt like that now. As if she might have slid to the ground in some helpless kind of swoon if Titus hadn’t been holding her. And that feeling was dangerous.

  But danger was easy to ignore—especially when he was undressing her in a way which was making her body shudder. Her velvet skirt whispered to the ground, closely followed by the cashmere sweater. With a smooth dexterity he disposed of her bra and slithered her knickers off, and she found herself revelling in the speculative gleam of his eyes.

  ‘You are very, very beautiful but I think you’d better get into bed,’ he instructed shakily. ‘You’re shivering.’

  But Roxy’s shivering didn’t stop once she was covered by the duvet. If anything it increased, because he had pulled his sweater off and was unzipping his jeans and the slow and complicit way he smiled at her when his erection sprang free actually made her blush.

  ‘Oh, Roxanne,’ he murmured as he climbed into bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. ‘I can’t believe you’re blushing.’

  Neither could she—but there was something about Titus which was making her feel about sixteen. As if this had never happened before. As if the briefest of butterfly touches could start off a whole chain-reaction of feelings which could make her heart clench with wistful longing. And she had better keep those rather pitiful thoughts to herself, she told herself fiercely. Just imagine how much that would inflate his already inflated ego if he knew she could be so instantly smitten.

  ‘Just shut up and kiss me,’ she said and he was laughing softly as she pulled his tawny head down towards her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE delicate stroking of fingertips over his rib cage roused Titus from the comfortable half-world between waking and sleeping. Slitting open his eyes, he saw from the flickering light which danced shadows around the room that the candle had burned low.