'Oh, Lazar,' Glare breathed softly, her eyes shining with tears as she fought against shyness to tell him how it was with her.
'I hoped for so much when I read your card,' he told her, not waiting for her to say more, and looking saddened to see the tears in her eyes. 'I just had to see you. I wanted to see you so much I made myself forget the suicidal feelings I experienced when you rejected me at the airport that last time I held you in my arms.'
'I didn't reject you.' The .words came rocketing to the surface, her shyness forgotten at the hurt she received on knowing his pain. She saw his doubting look and rushed to explain. 'I was startled, that was all, shocked at the emotion in your voice. You spoke in Greek, so I had no idea what you'd said, and before I could ask, you'd gone. I only found out the week before I sent the card.'
Lazar shook his head, still doubting. 'Did I speak in Greek too that day on the beach when I had your lovely body in my arms? That day when, thrilled to have you there, I forgot myself? You ran away from me then, terrified at what I had done.'
'No, Lazar, no,' she argued. 'It may have looked like that, but I was in shock ...'
He looked defeated suddenly as he cut in, not allowing her to finish, 'It shocked you deeply to have my touch intrude on you.'
`Yes,' she admitted truthfully. Then as she saw the way in which his hands clenched on the arms of his chair, the way he turned his head so she would not see the tormented emotion that crossed his face, she hurried on quickly, `But only because you'd awoken something in me I didn't know was there, something in me that shocked me into realising ...'
He turned his head back to look at her, his attention all hers as his night-black eyes bored into her, causing shyness to swamp her. She fought a silent battle with shyness—and won, though she had to swallow hard before she brought out:
`You made me realise I—I didn't want you to—to stop there.'
His expression was one of disbelief, his forehead rising upwards. Silently he studied her, watching the pink colour flush over her cheeks, and sat waiting tensely as though wanting to believe her, but too afraid to dare.
'I realised when I got to my room,' Clare said, 'that—Oh God, this must sound so awfully forward. But oh, Lazar, dearest Lazar, I realised I wasn't afraid of you. I—wanted you to make love to me. It was discovering that about myself that shook me, and made me run.'
Ten years seemed to drop away from him as an incredulous, unbelieving smile started to break. 'You are sure?' he insisted, making no attempt to come anywhere near her. 'Be sure, Clare.' His voice cracked. 'Oh, my darling, be sure. I have so ached for you these long weary months. I don't think I shall be responsible for what happens once I take you in my arms—you have bolted from me before, remember.'
'I'm shy of you, Lazar,' Clare admitted, her smile beaming its way to him. `But that's all it is:
Slowly he rose from his chair, tall, handsome, and so heart-stoppingly the only man for her. He came forward and without volition she too was standing when he came to stop no more than a foot away from her.
`Your new style of dress suits you,' he said his voice husky. 'In itself it is an indication that I should believe you—you would not have dreamt of wearing a dress that so hinted at your womanhood last August.'
Clare stood, not moving, watching as a light kindled in his eyes as they travelled over her and rested on the contours of her breasts. And then as though he could wait no longer to have her in his arms, he moved that small step closer and very gently pulled her to him.
A sigh of pure bliss escaped Clare as she leaned her head up against the hard wall of his chest. She could feel him trembling as he held her loosely to him, held her as though afraid if he held her more tightly she might panic. He made no attempt to kiss her, but she didn't care. After all the agony of those days and nights apart from him, it was heaven just to have his arms around her, to know she hadn't got it all so wrong and that Lazar did love her—and more than that, wanted to marry her.
Lazar pulled back, gazing deeply into her eyes, his look adoring as he proceeded to examine her every feature as if he found it incredible that she should be there with him. And yet he still made no attempt to kiss her. Her eyes smiled back at him as she in turn devoured his face. Then slowly it began to dawn on her that he still wasn't a hundred per cent certain that he dare let himself go. He's afraid to kiss me! she thought incredulously.
Her right hand left its comfortable position at his waist. Slowly with a whispering touch her fingers came up to explore his mouth. Then gently she placed the tips of her fingers between his warm lips to part them. Shyly she raised her eyes to his.
`I've been told,' she said huskily, `on the best authority, that you have to hold your mouth just like that when you—er--kiss.'
A deep-throated roar came from the man holding her, the most joyous sound between a laugh and the end of frustration she had ever heard. Then there was no need for her further instruction, for Lazar took over and his mouth was on her own, and he was kissing her and discovering she was eager to learn whatever else he chose to teach her.
At last he pulled back, his look burning into her eyes. She could hear his heart thudding, her own echoing the sound. `Clare, oh, Clare!' he breathed, holding her close, seeming incapable of saying anything else in that wondrous moment but her name.
Tenderly he lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and lying down beside her, his hands stroking her hair, the sides of her face. `Clare, my Clare,' he whispered, his mouth coming down to claim hers again, setting up such a tumult of emotion inside her she just had to cling on, never wanting him to stop.
Again he pulled back and they looked deep into each other's eyes, her hand this time straying to stroke the side of his face. `Do you know how badly I want you?' he asked, his voice quietly husky, his hands stroking possessively over her shoulder.
`I think so,' she murmured, keeping her gaze fixed on his eyes when shyness would have had her dropping her look. 'I—I feel the same way too,' she confessed. ''I think my heart will burst with it.'
His eyes were still holding hers when he placed a hand beneath her breast and felt for himself the rapid thundering of her heart.
`Hold me,' she whispered, wanting to feel the touch of his hand on her breast, but a conviction growing that he was still afraid of alarming her.
`You are not afraid?' he asked, and she knew he was aware of what she was asking.
Because it was true, she answered, `I'm afraid of nothing with you, my darling.'
`Oh, Clare!' was wrenched from him, and then there was no holding back.
With an ecstasy of delight she felt his hand move from her heart to come gently to cup her breast, and as a shuddering sigh of pure bliss left her, she knew as he heard it and kissed her that at last he believed she feared nothing with him.
All restraint gone, she pressed to get nearer when his hand caressed to her lower spine, that hand pressing her even closer up against him, a roan escaping him at the contact of her with his hard body.
`My darling,' he murmured, one hand holding her to him and the other going to the top button of her dress, let me touch your soft skin.'
`Please!' Clare breathed, and so much wanted the same as him, her hands went to the buttons of his black shirt.
She stilled when she felt the delicious tingle of his hands on the satiny skin of her shoulders. Lazar stilled too, bringing back his head so he could see her face, as though suspecting that this was the moment when she would freeze on him.
`Oh, Lazar,' she breathed, her face flushed, her only fear that he would stop making love to her, 'I wish I was lying naked next to you.'
His delight and relief were wonderful to see. `The way we are going, my darling,' he said, a gentle teasing entering his lovemaking, `you may get your wish.'
Clare's pink colour deepened, though how her emotions had the grace to send a deeper blush after she had made such a statement, she couldn't have said. Though Lazar seemed in no hurry to have them naked as gently he slip
ped her bra straps aside to give him access to the love-swollen globes of her breasts. Her fingers searched inside his shirt, her hands gripping him in exquisite fervour when his teeth lightly secured the tip of her breast, making it stand tautly pink on top of its soft firm creamy mountain.
`Oh, Lazar,' came from her in a frenzied whisper of desire. `Oh, my darling, I want you—I want you!'
A rejoicing look was on him as his caressing hand took over her breast from his lips, and his mouth claimed hers. `There is no hurry, my darling,' he told her tenderly. 'I want it to be so right for you. Just ride with it for a while.' He smiled down into her face, all the love in the world there for her in his look. Then, his hands leaving her body, he cupped her face in his hands. `My sweet Clare,' he said huskily, `I love you.' He placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. Then while she just looked at him, her heart full, they both heard the sound of car doors thudding closed.
'Theos, ohi!' rang from him, and she knew then from that heartfelt `God, no!' that Lazar was nowhere near as cool as he would have her believe in breaking through any barriers there might be in his initiation of her. He must then have remembered something their lovemaking had driven from his mind, for he muttered, 'I had forgotten,' and then he was sitting up, helping her to sit up too.
He helped her to straighten her clothing before he attended to his own, making sure she was neatly buttoned up before fastening the buttons on his shirt.
His expression was half angry, half rueful when he looked at her, both of them now sitting decorously on the couch, for all he kept his arm around her.
`I think I have in my way been as frightened as you, my Clare,' he told her softly. 'I was too scared to meet you at the airport in case I said the wrong thing and got off to a bad start—I was not sure if that happened that it would not affect my driving and have us both injured in a car smash ...
`So that's why Rasmus met me,' she said, only now beginning to realise the effect she had on him.
He nodded. `I had no idea what would happen either when Rasmus did get you here,' he said, talking quickly now, wanting this explanation out of the way before his callers were shown in. `I knew my self-control was a puny vessel where you are concerned—I had not meant to come to say goodbye to you when you went away from me. I left it too late, or so I thought, then I found myself in my car racing to Micra because I just had to see you once more. And so after speaking to you this morning—what a joy it was to hear your voice! '—he broke off to give her a smile that warmed her through and through, 'I rang my parents telling them to drop everything, that it was imperative that they got here by tonight.'
Bereft of words, trying desperately to come back to earth after the thrilling explosion of his lovemaking, Clare grasped at what he was saying. He had felt himself so out of control where she was concerned he had sent for his parents, knowing she would be safe from him while they were in residence at the villa.
'Oh, Lazar,' was all she could manage, on a choky little whisper.
'Oh, CIare,' he teased in an effort to bring her temperature down. Then with his other hand holding her two in a firm grip, he said, `Perhaps it will work well that they have arrived.'
`Work well?' she queried, trying to put her intelligence to use, but having no idea what he was meaning.
`You and I, will go to England tomorrow for me to speak with your father. If it would please you I will ask my parents to come with us so we can have a family celebration.'
`You're going to see my father tomorrow?' she gasped, her mind only capable of dealing with one part of what he had said as she wondered if she would ever get used to the way Lazar used aeroplanes as casually as she and her mother used the Mini.
`Of course,' he said, a proud look coming to him. `Tomorrow is the twenty-fifth—it doesn't leave much time to make the arrangements.'
`Arrangements?'
Lazar gave her an adoring look. 'I insist you must be my wife before this year is out, my Clare.'
Clare was still trying to get her breath back when footsteps were heard coming along the hall.
'My beloved little one,' Lazar said huskily, observing she looked a shade nervous to be about to meet his parents, `they are going to love their new daughter.' He smiled, a smile that told her she was the keeper of his heart. `Who could help but love you?' he said tenderly. Their lips met in a gentle touch—a door opened.
Devil in Disguise Page 17