Back in the Headlines

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Any way you want,’ he said. ‘I can always wait for you to brush your hair out or put your wig back on. I don’t care. I just want to dance with you.’

  For a moment, Roxy was tempted by a scenario she’d never thought could happen. She imagined going back in there as his partner. Imagined the thrill of being led onto the dance floor and taken into his arms. Because even though she sensed that part of him disapproved of her over-the-top gesture, she knew he was proud of her performance. She’d given him the ultimate in original birthday presents and now, in that very alpha way of his, he wanted to show her off.

  For a moment she allowed herself to go along with the fantasy. She could picture the jealous faces of all the women who had been seeking his attention all evening. She could imagine the hard warmth of his body as they moved in time to the music. It would be very clear to everyone that they were lovers and she wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t wanted that. But what would be the point? Wouldn’t it only give her a taste of a life which could never be hers, no matter how many impromptu cabarets she organised in his honour? All she would be was a very shiny trophy on his arm.

  ‘Roxanne?’

  His question broke into her troubled thoughts and as he pulled her into his arms she knew she had to give him an answer. She’d been so caught up in the fantasy that she’d forgotten one vital thing.

  She was a nobody.

  Playing for time, she tilted her chin up and he leaned forward to kiss her throat. ‘I can’t face going back in there among all those people,’ she said. ‘Or having to answer a million questions. I’ll just head back to the cottage. It’s going to be a long night here. I’ll see you tomorrow, Titus.’ But she knew that by the time he awoke she would be long gone.

  Titus felt the thrust of her breasts through the sheer material of her dress and he closed his eyes as his body tensed with a desire so intense it felt almost like pain. ‘Or you could spend the night here,’ he suggested unsteadily.

  For a moment, she thought she must have misheard him. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Here. Or, more specifically—in my ducal bedchamber,’ he said, his grey eyes glittering with humour as he deliberately used the outdated description.

  Roxy wanted to laugh and yet she didn’t want to laugh. How dared he try to make her laugh when this was no laughing matter? When she’d never been good enough to take to his bedroom before and she still wasn’t good enough, not really. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  His fingers tightened around her arms. ‘For God’s sake, Roxanne—isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why the hell not?’

  Roxy flinched. He made it sound as if her only intention had been to try to worm her way into his bed. ‘It isn’t important,’ she muttered.

  ‘Well, actually, it is. It’s important to me. I want you here with me tonight. In my house and in my bed.’ His voice lowered into a silken whisper. ‘And don’t you realise that I always get what I want?’

  She realised only one thing at that moment and that was how two-faced he could be. This wasn’t some grand gesture of letting her know how important she was to him. He wanted her in his bed like some ego-feeding prize—while a few minutes ago he had just dismissed her to one of the guests as if she were worthless. She had been a shining star tonight and this was to be her reward. Restricted access had temporarily been lifted and Roxy Carmichael was being allowed into the ducal bed!

  For a moment, she considered telling him just what he could do with his offer. That she knew exactly where she stood and maybe it was time she bid farewell to all her romantic dreams. But this sensible option was quickly superseded by another very emotional one. Because even while her heart rebelled at what he’d said about her—her body still ached for him as much as it had ever done. She wanted Titus Alexander and she loved him. So why shouldn’t she have one last night with him—a night that neither of them would ever forget?

  ‘Okay,’ she said, forcing all the dark doubts from her mind as she picked up the carrier bag containing her jeans, sweater and sheepskin boots. ‘I will.’

  ‘You certainly know how to keep a man on tenterhooks,’ he commented drily.

  Roxy forced a smile. ‘I know where your bedroom is, of course—but perhaps you’d better take me up there yourself. I’d hate to run into Vanessa along the way. Then you can go back to your party and I’ll wait for you there.’

  Titus shook his head. ‘But I’m not going anywhere. There’s only one party I’m interested in right now—and that’s the one which is going to take place in my bedroom.’

  Roxy told herself that his corny words meant nothing but that didn’t stop her traitorous body from softening in response to them. He caught hold of her hand and she let him lead her through a set of corridors she’d never been in before and which turned out to be a short cut to his bedroom.

  In normal circumstances she might have been intimidated by the thought of spending the night in the canopied four-poster bed, which looked impossibly large and grand. But what were normal circumstances? Roxy didn’t think she’d ever known what most people thought of as normality, though maybe everyone felt like that, deep down. You were always measuring your life against other people’s experiences—and your own always seemed to fall short.

  Titus had shut the door and was now slipping the white fur stole from her shoulders. ‘How the hell did you manage to pull this off?’

  Roxy forced a weak smile. If things had been different, she might have told this particular story with laughing recall—but now it just felt like an episode she’d rather forget.

  ‘There’s a dress-hire place in London,’ she said. ‘Someone I knew from my days in The Lollipops.’

  ‘Well, you look … amazing.’ Deliberately, he let the tip of his tongue slide against the parchment dryness of his lips. ‘Now come here before I die with frustration.’

  Mindlessly, she went into his arms and let him kiss her. I’m going to miss this, she thought as she opened her mouth beneath his. I’m going to miss this so much. And wouldn’t you know it? That tonight he was kissing her with a passion which took her breath away, or maybe it was all made more profound by the significance of being in his stately home. It made what was about to happen seem unbearably poignant and she knew that she needed to slow the pace down. Pushing her hands against the hard muscle of his shoulders, she took a step back. ‘I’d … I’d better take this dress off.’

  ‘Here, let me.’

  ‘It’s very delicate.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that I can be gentle, Roxanne,’ he murmured.

  She wanted to cry because she realised that he could. Very gentle. His fingertips were whispering so softly over her body that her heart felt as if it were about to shatter with hopeless longing.

  He peeled the dress away from her body and made a barely audible sound as he stared at her. ‘You’re …’ He swallowed. ‘You’re not wearing anything underneath.’

  ‘I couldn’t—not even a thong, I’m afraid. It’s a very unforgiving dress.’

  ‘Roxanne—’ He said her name in a way he’d never said it before as he hung the dress on a chair and pulled her into his arms.

  For one brief moment she wanted to ask why he had ruined everything—why he had denounced her in such a cruel way—but she was so fired up by desire that she began to undress him with a fervour which was equal to his.

  He was laughing as she tugged the clothes from his body until they were both completely naked. Or at least, he was. Roxanne was still wearing the towering gold stilettos which put her eyes almost on a level with his. As if she’d read his thoughts, she bent to slide them off.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said roughly. ‘Leave them on.’

  But Roxy shook her head as she ignored him and took them off anyway. She was through with playing any more parts. She wasn’t going to conveniently morph from Marilyn Monroe into his stereotype of a perfect lover—naked but for her glittery gold shoes. Tonight she wasn’t going to be anyone but herself—the essen
tial woman beneath all the different layers which had been constructed over time and by circumstance.

  ‘Kiss me,’ she said.

  He heard the slight break in her voice and it spoke to something deep inside him as he carried her onto the bed, laying her down on the velvet crimson cover so that she looked like a medieval painting. He felt the bed dip beneath his weight as he joined her and began to kiss her, his mouth moving from her lips down to the cherry-tipped nipples. She writhed as she felt his tongue licking against her belly and she tugged at his shoulders, urging him back up—so that his face was looking down into hers.

  ‘No. Not like that. Not this time,’ she whispered.

  He nodded, slipping on a condom he suddenly had no desire to wear before slowly entering her. Instantly, he lost himself in her tight heat and as she wrapped her legs around his bare back it felt as if she’d suddenly taken lack of inhibition to a whole new level. Because this was Roxanne on fire. Her kisses were deep and drugging. Her hands seemed to whisper over every inch of his skin—working an exquisite magic wherever they touched. He heard himself gasping with helpless pleasure as she took control.

  She was whispering things into his ear. Things he could barely make out through his heightened senses. He felt the tension building. He felt as if his body was going to explode—as if he might die with desire for her. She gave a wild cry as she orgasmed around him and his own responding cry sounded guttural as his seed pumped deep inside her.

  Afterwards, he felt curiously shaken—even more so when he felt the wetness of her tears against his face. His normal response would have been to put distance between them—because women and tears were never a good combination, especially in bed. But Titus was as contented as a jungle predator who had just been fed a large lump of juicy flesh, so instead he lazily turned his head and traced a thoughtful finger along the smooth damp surface of her cheek.

  ‘Roxanne?’ he said, but she didn’t answer and his question was forgotten as fireworks began to erupt in the sky outside the huge windows of his bedroom. He shook her gently by the shoulder. ‘Someone must have given the order to light them. Look out there.’

  Obediently, Roxanne stared straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the lavish display as she watched the fireworks explode in the night sky. Silver. Gold. Pink and blue. There were sunbursts and cascades—their whirring sounds mostly drowned by the accompanying strains of classical music. Fireworks to celebrate the birthday of the eleventh Duke of Torchester, with no expenses spared.

  ‘They’re wonderful,’ she said, dredging up what passed for enthusiasm from some dark and empty place deep inside her.

  ‘Aren’t they?’ He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. ‘And perfect timing, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh, perfect,’ she echoed, but her heart felt as if it were breaking and she had no one to blame but herself. She had signed up for this. The nobody who had made the mistake of thinking she was somebody. She had walked right into an affair which had never been intended to last, thinking that she was strong enough to cope and it turned out that she wasn’t. The warmth of her orgasm was fading into a terrible iciness which was encasing her body as she lay perfectly still.

  Comfortably Titus snaked his arm around her waist, hooking her closer so that her bare bottom pushed against the already hardening thrust of his groin. Later, he thought lazily. He would make love to her later. And he let his heavy eyelids drift down to a close.

  Roxanne lay in his arms for what seemed like hours, listening to the sound of his deepening breathing until she was certain he was asleep. Gingerly, she shifted an exploratory leg to the edge of the bed and although he stirred slightly—he did not waken.

  Her movements were silent as she picked up the golden shoes and put them carefully in the bag, along with the rhinestone dress and the white fur stole. Then she slipped into her jeans, sweater and sheepskin boots and let herself out of Titus’s room.

  She needed to be careful. The party was still going on and if she ran into Vanessa at this point it would be little short of nightmare. Like a shadow, she slipped from the house and ran over to her cottage just as dawn was breaking. It was one of those incredible winter mornings with nature providing her very own firework display. Pale apricot and coral light blotted out the fading stars and the great house looked very beautiful against the lightening sky.

  She wondered what Titus would do when he woke. Would he wonder where she had gone—or simply be relieved that she had slipped away without fuss?

  She was shivering by the time she let herself into the cottage and quietly crept up to her room. Gathering together her things, she began to lay them on the bed. Packing was one of the things she was really good at—but then, she’d had enough practice when she was touring. Efficiently, she layered her clothing in the suitcase—and was just wondering whether she could hitch a ride to London from one of the party guests when she heard the front door open.

  She knew it was Titus, but presumably he wasn’t calling out for fear of waking Amy. She found herself praying that he might just turn around and go out again if she didn’t go downstairs to greet him.

  Her breathing sounded unnaturally loud as she heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. And then suddenly, he was standing in the doorway of her bedroom looking dark and powerful and more than a little intimidating.

  For a moment he said nothing—just looked from her face to the suitcase and then back up to her face again.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ he questioned.

  She wanted to scream. To fling herself at him with a burst of heartbroken tears—but Roxy knew that a scene would only complicate things. It would make leaving even more difficult and she needed to stay calm. To show him that she’d thought this through. Most importantly of all—to let him know that she wasn’t going to change her mind.

  ‘Well, that is what is usually implied by someone putting clothes in a suitcase.’ She raised her eyebrows at him in mocking question. ‘I thought you’d know that better than anyone.’

  ‘You’re leaving?’

  She heard the incredulous note in his voice and part of her had to admire his incredible chutzpah. ‘Yes, I’m leaving. It was never intended that I should stay after your party.’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t. But isn’t this just a little dramatic? Slipping away from my bed in the middle of the night, without bothering to tell me?’

  ‘You were asleep.’

  ‘Please don’t insult my intelligence, Roxanne. You could have woken me up.’

  She wedged a shoe down the side of the bulging case. ‘Maybe I was saving us both the embarrassment of bumping into one of your guests—or one of the other staff.’

  ‘Surely that’s something for my consideration, not yours?’

  His arrogance made something inside her snap and Roxy straightened up, all her good intentions to stay calm deserting her. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ she accused. ‘You make this big, magnanimous gesture about letting me spend the night in your precious bedroom—yet you still can’t help yourself from acting superior! I thought I was there last night as your equal—’

  ‘And you were!’

  ‘Well, if that was the case—then I’ll decide when I leave. I don’t need your permission, Titus.’

  His face darkened with frustration. He was not given to voicing his emotions, nor to analysing them. Over the years he had learnt to observe other people’s behaviour but never to react to it. But suddenly he found himself breaking one of his own rules. ‘I thought that your timing was particularly bad, in view of what had just happened.’

  ‘You mean, because we’d just had sex?’

  ‘Do you have to put it quite so crudely?’

  She shook her head, determined not to be sucked into any more fantasising, but it wasn’t easy—not when it was your heart’s dearest desire. ‘But why wouldn’t I be crude, Titus—when I’m nothing but a nobody?’ She saw him flinch. Saw the growing comprehension in his eyes as he made the connection a
nd she geared herself up for the showdown she’d been hoping to avoid. ‘Beginning to get the picture now? Because I heard you! I heard you telling that man that I was nobody! ’

  He frowned as he recalled his throwaway comment to his old schoolfriend and his mouth hardened. ‘I did it because—’

  ‘No!’ she flared back, seeing his dark expression as she cut through his protestation. ‘I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses! There’s no possible explanation which would make that ever seem all right!’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ he questioned, a slow anger beginning to simmer away inside him. ‘Then forgive me if I fail to be impressed at your lack of perception. I actually did it to protect you.’

  She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘To protect me?’

  ‘That’s right. Because I didn’t want you having to contend with any speculation—or questions. The kind of questions you once told me you hated. I thought that exposure as my lover would open you up to all that picking over of your past.’

  ‘Or future?’ she said quietly, because she didn’t believe him. She didn’t want to believe him—because if she thought that he’d acted out of kindness, then wouldn’t it make walking away impossible? ‘Your future.’

  ‘My future?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You were protecting yourself, Titus—and maybe I don’t blame you. Because if the world found out that the Duke of Torchester had been sleeping with his cleaner—then wouldn’t that prompt the kind of questions which you wouldn’t want to answer?’

  His voice was silky. ‘Questions such as what, Roxanne?’

  ‘A story like this would be a gift for the tabloids,’ she said. ‘Put two high-profile people together and suddenly the world starts speculating about marriage.’

  He gave a bitter laugh as his gaze raked over her, because now he was on very familiar territory indeed. ‘I think that you’re forgetting that you are no longer high profile. And it sounds to me like you’re the one who’s been speculating about marriage, sweetheart.’