The Terms of Their Affair

by Clare Connelly

  She swore once more into their kiss and then she was still, and silent. After a moment, she even pulled her lips away, so that he could see her face. And he could see reality returning, and realisation dawning. The nuances in her expression shifted gradually, just an atom at a time, but she was teetering on the brink of a panic at what had just happened.

  At what had almost happened, he mentally corrected, for if he’d had the necessary protection, they would have fucked until their bodies couldn’t take any more.

  She stood up quickly, her face drained of all colour. She stared at him as if he were a creature she didn’t recognise. Her expression was rich with disbelief.

  Caradoc was quick. He stood up and moved toward her, his expression inscrutable. “You have nothing to regret,” he said with precision, perfectly comprehending the reason for her silence.

  “Don’t I?” She snapped tartly, her anger directed inwards.

  “You’re a beautiful woman. I wanted you the first moment I saw you.”

  That surprised her. She lifted her gaze to his and then looked away again, when a sharp burst of electricity throbbed from him to her.

  “No, you didn’t,” she said with a shake of her head. Then, she squeezed her eyes shut, as realisation dawned like a fierce sunburst that they had only met that day. Hours earlier.

  She drew in a deep breath of recrimination and spun away from him. “I have never done that.”

  “Let a guy please you with his hands?” He deliberately misunderstood to provoke a reaction and was rewarded by yet another shake of her head. Her hair was flame and sunshine.

  “I just met you! I’ve never done anything with a man I wasn’t involved with. I can’t get involved with you.”

  Caradoc was very still as he let her words sink in. A difficult mess of emotions played out in his mind. There was a strange, unwelcome sense of envy at the consideration of her previous partners. Illogical, too, for he had bedded may beautiful women in his time. But there was a frisson of warning, too, and the delicious taste of challenge that he relished.

  “I don’t want to be involved with you,” he said as clearly as possible, reaching for her hand and pulling her back to face him.

  Caradoc had always been captivating. He had a magnetic personality that was as attractive to men as it was to women. Whether at work or play, he dominated, and people were happy to let him.

  This was no exception.

  Perhaps age would always have determined their dynamic; he was more than ten years her senior. Or possibly the fact that they’d met with Finn in his employ would have given him the upper hand. But in all probability, regardless of who they were and how they met, Caradoc would always have held her easily in his thrall. He was a man who exerted a nameless power, and Finn had never encountered a personality with such gravity. She was a moth to his flame, even then.

  “You don’t?” A throaty murmur, her words pulsed with desire.

  “No.” His smile sent her pulse racing.

  She swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

  “More of that,” he promised sensually. He cupped her bottom; her jeans were still on the floor and he was able to slide his fingers inside the fabric of her underwear and touch her soft, bare skin.

  “But …” She shook her head. “You mean meaningless sex?” The phrase was one she’d heard many times. She said it in that moment without giving it proper thought.

  “Sex is never meaningless, even if the meaning is purely in the attainment of pleasure.”

  She arched a brow, but her heart was flipping over painfully in her chest. “And that’s what you want from me?”

  “Yes.” It was a calculated risk – they were his stock in trade. “I want the same thing you want.”

  “I … what do I want?”

  His laugh was provocative. “You want to keep feeling what you just felt. You want to come with me now and climb into my bed, and feel me move deep inside of you.” He squeezed the flesh of her backside and dipped his head lower, so that his mouth was pressed against her ear. “I will make you feel things you don’t know you are capable of. I will make you feel like you are tormented by pleasure. I will make your body crave mine.”

  How easy it would have been to say yes! To go with him despite her misgivings. But Finn had spent a lifetime being in control of her fate. Even to Caradoc, she wasn’t yet willing to surrender that power.

  “I would hate myself,” she said seriously, reaching up and putting a hand on his cheek.

  But he wasn’t prepared to be so easily defeated. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “How do you know?” She asked breathily. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “No,” he said, removing his hands and stepping away from her. He was cold suddenly, as though a switch had been flicked and he’d become someone else entirely. He was imposing and intimidating. She looked at him with a renewed sense of awe. “But I know people. I know that you want me to convince you that this is okay. Perhaps you even want me to lie to you, and give you the impression that I want more from you than great sex to ease this depressing situation.” She internally recoiled at his sharp description of what he thought they could share. “I’m not going to trick you into my bed. I like sex and I’m attracted to you. But I’m not the kind of man to beg. Nor am I the kind of man to ask twice. While I do want you, it’s your decision.” He shrugged then, drawing attention to his broadly muscled chest. “Come to my bed, or don’t.”

  Oh, the temptation and the torture. She stared at him, her body quivering and her head at war with her desire. On some soul-deep level she understood Caradoc Moore, and the forces that motivated him.

  “I’ve had sex before,” she responded with a shrug of her own. “What makes you think I’d give up my self-respect to have sex with you?”

  The challenge was designed to do what he swore he wouldn’t. Beg. He was not going to give her any assurance beyond what he’d already offered. They would have sex. It would be great. That was the limit of Caradoc’s interest.

  “Your self-respect is your problem, not mine.” He turned around then and began to walk from the room, his powerful frame cutting across the floor with an athletic gait.

  Finn watched him walk away with a sinking heart.

  He had laid down the challenge and she had to decide, quickly, what she wanted.

  One fantastic night with this powerful egomaniac? Or to live forever with the regret of having turned him down?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the time they reached his bedroom door, she was beginning to question her decision. After all, she hardly knew Caradoc. Had she completely lost her mind? She’d been with other men before. What was it about Caradoc that made her put aside all her usual reservations and concerns and agree to this?

  Wasn’t this demeaning her to have fallen in line so easily with his demanding proposition? Come to think of it, had he even propositioned her? A frown marred her features as she tried to remember exactly what he’d said. She couldn’t recall the details, but the more she thought about it, the more she seemed to think it had been something a little like, “If you want to have sex, let’s go. If not, whatever.” Or words to that effect.

  Her hand in his suddenly felt trapped. She moved to pull it away, but he sent her a look of such mocking amusement that she was stilled.

  He shouldered his door inwards and then, once they were inside, locked it shut.

  The room was enormous, as Finn might have expected if she’d given it any thought whatsoever.

  He had a bedroom against the farthest wall, but there was also a set of arm chairs, a television on the wall and a walk-through wardrobe. She presumed the other door housed a private bathroom. The décor in his room was modern and obviously top-end.

  That was all she got to take in. Caradoc’s mouth was on hers again, his head blocking any view she had of the room. It was madness. Did she care?

  Her fingers tangled in his silver hair, and her body was pressing against his, powered by the ne
ed that was overtaking every fibre of her being. She wanted to forget the stupidity of what they were doing and simply feel.

  Caradoc knelt before her so that he could peel her jeans off again, and this time, he made sure to remove her underwear too. Her sweater quickly followed.

  Naked, he was exalted. He wanted to stare at her. To study her.

  “Stand there,” he said with his trademark authority on display.

  “Why?” She said with a small laugh. “It’s cold.”

  “Not for long,” he promised. His eyes devoured her, and where he looked, she felt a corresponding ache.

  “Why are you staring at me?” She said self-consciously, her smile lopsided.

  “You are impossible not to stare at,” he murmured. He moved towards her and caught a handful of her hair in his fist. “I pictured you naked, with this spectacular hair of yours running down your back. I like it like this. Out and wild, as I suspect you are.”

  “I’m not wild,” she promised huskily.

  “Let’s see, shall we?” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. His kiss was powerful and it quickly swept away the last vestiges of any concerns she’d felt. She wanted him. Maybe she was wild! At least, maybe she could be, just for one night. Her hands clawed at his clothes, pushing at them until he was naked, too. She delighted in touching his body; in feeling it beneath her palms. His skin was warm and smooth, but for his hair-roughened chest.

  Yet she forced herself to pull away and study him like a bug in a microscope. He watched her look at him, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

  “You are impossible not to stare at,” she repeated his words back at him, earning a proper grin in response.

  “Touché.” He sobered instantly. “Now. Get in the bed.”

  “Are you always this bossy?” She responded, crossing her arms across her chest.

  “Yes.” His arms were strong; they lifted her easily over his shoulder and carried her to the King Size. He deposited her gently in the middle and then brought his body on top of hers. Their nakedness was intimate and Finn gripped his shoulders hard at the expectation of what was to come.

  And yet, the moment he unfurled a condom and sheathed his length, she was filled with a strange sense of perfect rightness. As though, strangers or not, this was a moment she would always remember.

  Her green eyes met his, and her smile was broad. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

  And regardless of the heartbreak that would follow, Finn had been truly glad, in that moment at least.

  * * *

  “They just don’t make engines like this anymore.” Dougal’s voice, from beneath the car, was muffled.

  But that wasn’t why Finn hadn’t heard.

  She was distracted. It had been four days since arriving at Bagleyhurst and that meant four nights in Caradoc’s bed. Even now, in the arctic garages, she felt her pulse begin to run like lava through her veins.

  He had been right.

  She was wild.

  When it came to Caradoc there were no limitations for Finn. She was his willing student; desperate to enjoy anything he wished to show her. And there was so much she didn’t know.

  Her sexual education, until meeting him, had been insanely dull.

  Caradoc was anything but.

  She bit down on her lower lip and rubbed her wrists, as memories of the night before came flooding back to her. His leather belt, holding her prisoner in his bed, was a memory that would never fade.

  “Finn? D’you hear me?”

  “Oh.” She blinked, and crouched down beside the car. The generic blue coveralls she wore protected her knees from the grease-marked ground. “No.”

  “You’ve been distracted all afternoon.”

  She nodded, her throat in her mouth. The funeral would have been happening at that moment. Actually, it was probably over, she thought, sending a surreptitious glance at the clock on the wall. The church on the edge of the property had been packed with mourners; she’d seen them from the distance of the house, gathering in the gentle lawn that skirted the low stone building. Caradoc would have been at the front and centre. She hadn’t been able to make out his frame in the crowd – her vantage point was too far removed – but she knew the kind of man he was.

  Yes, four nights with Caradoc had shown her more of his character than she’d thought it possible to comprehend. She knew he was arrogant to a fault; but with good cause. He was persistent, he was driven, he had stamina. He could convince anyone of anything; he was the kind of man no one could refuse.

  Caradoc had a kind of powerful personal magnetism. If he chose to use it for evil, then Finn could only imagine how dire the consequences would be. A shiver ran down her back. So what was she doing with him?

  “I’m tired,” she said with far too much honesty, and regretted it instantly.

  “Been partying up in your room?” He teased, with no possible idea of how lively her nights had become.

  She laughed. “Hardly. It’s freezing in my room.”

  “Is it?” He slid out from under the car, his handsome face smudged with grease.

  “You know these old buildings,” she said with a shrug. “Now, let me get under there.”

  “You doubtin’ my work?”

  “Never! Ready and willing to admire it, that’s all.”

  “Well, in that case…” He stood up to make room for her, and Finn was down on the tray in an instant. She slid under the car, leaving only her slender legs protruding.

  “You got a cloth?” She called out.

  “A cloth?”

  “You’ve left oil,” she reprimanded teasingly, sliding out just far enough to wink at him.

  He laughed and lifted his rag, and threw it down at her. She grinned as she slid back under the body and wiped some of the hoses. “It’s impossible to tell if it’s patched without taking it for a run.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Care to see some of this fine countryside?”

  Something like warning tingled down her spine. If it weren’t for the fact that she and Dougal had spent the last few days working side by side, she might have thought he was flirting with her. Only they’d become friends. Colleagues. Fellow car-enthusiasts. That was all.

  Nonetheless, she felt a sense of loyalty to Caradoc that made absolutely no sense. Caradoc had taken great pains to spell out what he wanted from Finn. And what he hadn’t said, she’d come to understand from his actions.

  This was physical for him.

  And for her too, she hastened to mentally add.

  But for Caradoc, it was as though the beasts pursued him in the dark hours. By night, he was a man who could only quieten his mind with the immersion in absolute physical pleasure.

  That was all.

  So why should she not spend time with Dougal?

  “Sure,” she smiled slowly. “That sounds good.”

  “Seraphina!”

  She pushed out from under the car and crouched to her knees, her eyes scanning the brightness beyond the garage. It was a gloomy day but the sun was shining, and the glare was bouncing off the haze of clouds.

  A little figure appeared in the door-frame and then she ran full pelt towards Finn. Her hair was tucked in two neat plaits and she was wearing a beautiful black dress with beading on the cuffs and collar. But all Finn saw was the grief in her little face. She put her arms wide on instinct and Madison sobbed as she fell into them.

  “Oh, darling,” Finn ran her hand comfortingly over the little girl’s head. “Hush, hush.” She held her tight, feeling every sob and gasp of air. Maddie’s tears splashed onto Finn’s shoulders.

  Finn held her until her body was still and her sobs were silenced, though the tears still fell. Over Maddie’s shoulder, she saw Dougal studying the two of them with curiosity. Finn could only presume that in all the time he’d worked for Gower, he’d never come to mean anything personal to the family.

  Finn had well and truly blurred those lines; at least with the two children of Gower.<
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  “Do you know what my dad always said?” Finn murmured quietly, once Maddie had calmed down a little.

  “What?” A snorted, muffled word.

  “That a cup of tea has magical qualities, especially at times like this.”

  Maddie hiccoughed. “My mum says I’m Italian; we don’t drink tea.”

  If Finn hadn’t been so concerned for the little girl she would have laughed at the preposterous denouncement of a drink as comforting as tea. “Well, I don’t know about that. How about I make us a pot of tea and you can tell me what you think?” She stood slowly, careful to keep a hand around Maddie’s slim shoulders.

  As they walked out of the garage, she cast Dougal an apologetic glance. He waved his hands in the air in understanding.

  The front of the house, where she’d pulled up that first night to let Caradoc out, was filled now with elegant and expensive cars. She couldn’t help looking at them with a tinge of curiosity; some were just off-concept cars. At another time, she would have loved to look beneath the bonnets and hear their engines.

  But in that moment, all that mattered was the little girl beside her.

  “Everyone’s in the banquet hall,” Maddie said grimly. “I don’t want to see them.”

  Finn nodded, and changed their course slightly, heading around to the servant’s door she used to enter and exit the house. “Why not?” She queried quietly, hoping to encourage Maddie’s confidence by speaking gently.

  “Because. It’s stupid. No one else really cares. They’re all just here because it’s the done thing.” Those words had been spoken many times to Madison in her short life. She dressed for dinner because it was the done thing. The family took ski seasons in Austria because it was the done thing. She didn’t read books at the table because it wasn’t the done thing. And they sat through a freezing cold ceremony in the family chapel because it was the done thing.

  “Your father’s guests?”

  Madison sobbed again. “They’re my mother’s guests. And his.”

  “His?” Maddie prompted.