by Craven, Sara
‘Oh, God,’ he whispered, the blue eyes burning. ‘I’ve dreamed of you like this. You filled my mind since that first evening, sleeping and waking. I even tried to paint you to—exorcise you—get you out of my system—but it was never any good.’
‘I know.’ Her smile was luminous. Gently, proudly she began to touch herself, as she’d done that day in front of the window. He’d seen her then only in his imagination—but he was watching now, his face stark with desire, heat flaring along his cheekbones.
‘Tara.’ Her name was torn hoarsely from his throat. ‘What are you doing to me?’
She shook her head slowly, her gaze holding his, consumed in a mutual flame.
‘I don’t know,’ she murmured. ‘You tell me.’ She reached out and loosened the towel round his hips. ‘You—show me.’
Naked, he was magnificent, as she’d known he would be, and powerfully aroused. She felt her womanhood clench in excitement and anticipation.
Adam kicked the towel away and moved forwards to where she waited for him, lips parted breathlessly, eyes half closed.
He drew her slowly towards him until the tips of her breasts were brushing his chest. He began to feather tiny kisses on her face, while his hands smoothed their way down her back to the swell of her hips, then lower, to her slender flanks.
He lifted her effortlessly up against his body, and Tara slid her arms round his neck, her legs closing fiercely round him. He kissed her mouth hotly and urgently, then entered her with one deep, upward thrust.
Mouths clinging, they began to move together in pagan, instinctive rhythm. Almost at once Tara could feel the first stirrings of her climax beginning to build inside her, as if her body had been made for this moment alone and she was reaching the end of a journey started long ago.
Her hands gripped his damp shoulders. She tried to control her response a little—or it would be over too soon, and she wanted to keep the glory of him within her for a longer time.
‘No,’ he grated against the harshness of his breathing, as if she’d spoken aloud. ‘Come for me, darling. Come now.’
Crying out soundlessly, she obeyed, her body convulsed by one sweet, dizzying contraction after another, wave upon wave of such savage beauty that she found herself laughing for sheer joy through the helpless tears that spilled down her face.
And heard Adam groan, his body shuddering violently as he reached his own culmination.
Spent, they sank, panting, to the tiled floor, and lay there still entwined in each other’s arms.
‘My sweet love,’ Adam said huskily. ‘I did not intend that.’
‘Are you sorry it happened?’ Tara touched the tip of her tongue to the column of his throat, savouring the musky male scent of him.
‘No, witch, and you know that isn’t what I meant.’ He tilted up her face and kissed her softly. ‘I wanted to take it slowly—make it good for you.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Make it—memorable.’
‘Oh, it was good,’ she whispered. ‘And I think I’ll remember.’
‘But I wanted it to be romantic, too. A long, sweet seduction in a comfortable bed. Wine to drink afterwards.’ He bent his head and kissed her breast, circling the nipple with his tongue, making it stand erect, then surveying his handiwork with a murmur of appreciation. ‘I might even have peeled you a grape,’ he added softly.
Tara, tingling from his caress, gave an elaborate sigh. ‘So, I’ve missed out again. The story of my life.’
Adam smiled, and kissed her on the mouth. ‘Not necessarily,’ he whispered.
She had not known it was possible to feel so intensely—or so differently. This time Adam made her wait, bringing her over and over again to the edge of fulfilment and holding her there, in exquisite, erotic torment.
‘Oh, please.’ Her body twisted beneath his, seeking its release. ‘Now—please.’
‘Is this what you want?’ He moved, paused, then moved again. ‘Or—this?’
‘You know.’ Her voice was thick, almost strangled. ‘You know—damn you.’ And gasped as the first heady ripples of pleasure consumed her, lifted her to some undreamed of peak of ecstasy, then let her drift, trembling, down to some peaceful plateau where she could rest.
When she could speak, ‘I never knew,’ she said, her face half buried in his shoulder. ‘I never knew how it could be.’
He stroked her flushed cheek. ‘You weren’t a virgin.’ It was a statement, matter-of-fact, even tender.
‘No.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘Are you ready to talk about it?’
‘About what?’
‘About whoever it was made you look at the world through frightened eyes.’
Tara moved restively. Jack was an intrusion. An irrelevance. She shook her head. ‘There’s no one.’
‘If you say so.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, turned it over and kissed the palm.
‘Do you know?’ he whispered. ‘Have you the least idea, my love, my sweet wanton witch, how lovely you are? How warm and infinitely willing?’
Only with you. She thought the words, but did not say them. Because they might imply she was asking for a commitment from him.
He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘I think we deserve that bottle of wine now. I’ll get one.’
‘No, I’ll go.’ Tara sat up, running a teasing finger down his chest. ‘You stay there, and build up your strength.’
‘Brave words.’ Lying back against the pillows, he watched her through half-closed lids. ‘If you have those kinds of plans, maybe we should do something practical, like eating.’
‘Fine.’ She reached for her crumpled robe. ‘What would sir like for breakfast?’
Adam picked up his watch from the night table and inspected it. ‘Better make that lunch.’
‘My God.’ She snatched it from him. ‘Have we been in bed all morning?’
‘You had something better to do?’ He sent her a lazy grin.
‘They were going to bring my car back,’ she remembered belatedly.
‘I think we’d have heard them,’ Adam said drily. ‘They’ll want to be paid.’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged reluctantly.
For a few hours, in Adam’s arms, she’d forgotten everything. Now the real world was pushing its way back into her consciousness, and she wasn’t sure she wanted it there.
I don’t want to go downstairs, she thought, because I might find the girl I used to be waiting for me.
It was dawning on her that no amount of rapture could disguise reality, or make it go away. Quite apart from the ugliness that seemed to be threatening her, she realised that she and Adam still confronted each other over an unbridgeable gulf.
Their physical attunement could not be allowed to blind her to the fact that she found his plans for Dean’s Mooring repugnant. Or that he was committed to another girl, whom he had now betrayed.
Just as Jack had betrayed her, she reminded herself, her throat tightening. No different. No more forgivable.
‘What’s the matter?’ He was propped on an elbow, studying her frowningly.
‘Nothing.’ She forced a swift smile. ‘I think the mention of food has made me realise how hungry I am. Will scrambled eggs do?’
‘Perfect.’ He smiled back, but his eyes were still watchful. ‘Do I get room service?’
‘I do charge extra for that.’ She batted her eyelashes suggestively, clowning to hide her sudden emotional confusion.
‘I’m sure we can negotiate a settlement to our mutual satisfaction,’ he said solemnly, and Tara skipped out of the bedroom, laughing.
Just this day, she placated any hovering vengeful gods. I won’t ask for more. I’ll leave. He’ll go back to his Caroline. And we’ll never see each other again. That way, nobody gets hurt.
Or was it already too late for that? she wondered. Was this, in fact, the beginning of a pain that would haunt her through all eternity?
Curled up on the rocking chair, Melusine greeted her with a look of slit-eyed disapproval.
<
br /> ‘How right you are,’ Tara muttered as she prepared a tray with cutlery and two glasses, cut bread for toast, and whisked eggs in a bowl.
She was on her way back from the dining room with a bottle of wine when she heard the unmistakable sound of the back door closing, and footsteps crossing the fiagged kitchen floor.
She froze, hands gripping the wine as if it was a lifeline. She tried to call Adam, but no sound would come.
‘So you are here.’ Becky, slim and chic in dark blue linen, appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘I wondered when I saw no car—and then found the back door unlocked,’ she added chidingly. ‘I know there’s nothing worth stealing, but honestly, sweetie, I could have been anybody.’
‘Yes.’ Tara swallowed deeply. ‘So you could. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘And what on earth are you doing, lolling round in your dressing gown at this time of day?’ Becky paused, her sharp eyes taking in the bottle of wine, then the tray for two waiting on the kitchen table. When she turned back she was grinning broadly. ‘Well, darling, I see congratulations are in order.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ Tara said, praying that Adam would not suddenly appear, stark naked.
Becky winked vulgarly. ‘No, of course not.’
‘There was a terrible storm last night,’ Tara said with dignity. ‘All the electricity went off, and some odd things have been happening. So—a neighbour kindly spent the night.’
‘What neighbour?’ Becky demanded sceptically. ‘The ghost of old man Dean?’ She clicked the kitchen light switch. ‘No shortage of power now.’
‘So I should hope.’ Tara decided to change tack. ‘Anyway, why are you here, Beck? Are the children with you?’ God forbid.
‘No. Ma-in-law, bless her, is collecting them from school and having them for the weekend. So, I thought I’d pay you a flying visit. Take a look at this mysterious boyfriend—neighbour—whatever.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Where’ve you got him? Tied hand and foot to the bed?’
To her fury, Tara found she was blushing hotly. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘And don’t you waste your opportunities,’ Becky retorted, grinning. ‘Use ’em, abuse ‘em, and cast them aside like a worn-out shoe—that’s my advice.’ She eyed the bottle Tara was clutching. ‘Are you planning to pour that wine?’
‘Are you planning to drink and drive?’ Tara riposted, stalking past her into the kitchen and picking up the corkscrew.
‘One glass won’t hurt me. And I have to drink a toast to your emancipation from the grisly past.’ She shook her head as she seated herself at the kitchen table. ‘Harry and I had begun to think it would never happen.’
‘I’d be glad if you and Harry would mind your own business.’ Tara removed the cork with restrained violence.
‘No fun in that,’ said Becky. She accepted the glass Tara handed to her and raised it. ‘Here’s to sex—the tonic that perks up every little bit of you. Long overdue in your case.’ She eyed the mixing bowl. ‘And crack another couple of eggs in there, darling. I’m ravenous.’
‘It’s all right,’ Adam said calmly from the doorway. ‘The lady can have mine.’
He was fully dressed, Tara saw with relief, and carrying his sleeping roll and bag.
‘I really should be going.’ The smile he sent Tara was friendly, no more, and his tone was casual. ‘I’ll take a rain check on lunch.’
‘Are you sure?’ She hoped she didn’t sound as wistful as she felt. ‘This is my sister, by the way. Becky Allan—meet Adam Barnard.’
‘My goodness.’ Becky’s voice simmered with amusement as she gave Adam the full-blooded visual appreciation treatment. ‘You’re not a bit what I was expecting.’ She shook her head. ‘No indeed.’
‘I see,’ Adam said gravely. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad?’
She laughed up at him, using her eyelashes outrageously. ‘I’ll let you know when Tara and I have had a little sibling chat.’
How many years would you get for strangling your only sister? Tara wondered savagely.
She tried to emulate Adam’s casual note. ‘Well—thanks for coming to my rescue last night.’
‘Any time,’ he said courteously. ‘Just call and I’ll be there.’
‘Now there’s an offer you can’t refuse,’ Becky murmured.
Tara gave her a fulminating look, and accompanied him to the front door.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered miserably.
‘Don’t be.’ His kiss was swift and hard. Instant meltdown. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Don’t you have any shame?’ Tara demanded bitterly as she stormed back to the kitchen.
‘Not much,’ Becky admitted cheerfully. ‘Never saw the need for it. But I’m seriously impressed with you, little sister. What a dark horse you are. How many more men have you got concealed round the place?’
Tara began to melt the butter for the eggs. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Never mind. Keep your little secrets, if you must. But if you’ve made a choice, I’d have to say it’s the right one.’
Tara bit her lip. ‘There’s no question of a choice. This is—not what you think.’
‘No, of course not,’ Becky said soothingly. ‘He looks totally knackered, and you’re like the cat that’s got the cream. All quite normal.’ She rose, glass in hand. ‘And you’re letting that butter get too brown,’ she admonished. ‘Cooking and lust don’t mix, so why don’t you leave lunch to me while you go and change out of the seduction gear?’
An unwilling laugh escaped Tara. ‘Oh—all right. Anything you say.’
Washing and dressing restored some of her composure, and Becky’s scrambled eggs, served with grilled tomatoes and crisp fingers of toast, did the rest.
Over lunch, she told her sister what had befallen her car, and Becky reacted with genuine shock.
‘You’ve told the police, of course. What did they say?’
‘They’re not hopeful. No fingerprints and a partial tyre-mark.’
‘But that’s extraordinary,’ Becky said slowly. ‘I mean—why you?’
‘That’s what I’ve asked myself.’ Tara shrugged. ‘And so far I haven’t come up with a solitary answer.’
‘So when did Adam Barnard come into the picture?’
Tara took a sip of wine. ‘He’s Mr Dean’s grandson. He owns the property.’
Becky whistled. ‘Now there’s a surprise. So the old boy wasn’t a bachelor hermit after all.’
Tara expected a further barrage of questions, but Becky relapsed into pensive mode instead, rousing with a start when her sister began clearing the table.
‘Well, I’d better be getting back.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Just wanted to make sure your love life was running smoothly. As we’ve got the house to ourselves, I might welcome Harry home this evening in stilettos and a smile.’
‘Invite me to the christening,’ Tara said drily.
‘Invite me to the wedding,’ Becky came back smartly. She gave Tara a fierce hug. ‘Bye, ducky. Come and stay soon—and bring the lover, whomsoever it happens to be at the time,’ she added largely, and disappeared.
Or did she? It was at least half an hour later that Tara, from an upstairs window, saw her car driving off up the track.
No prizes for guessing where she’s been, she thought wearily. She’s incorrigible.
Adam arrived shortly afterwards.
‘Hi.’ Suddenly she felt oddly shy. ‘Have you come for your glass of wine?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve been on to the garage and they’ve promised to get your car back here by four.’
‘Oh.’ She was taken aback. He was smiling at her, but there was a veiled expression in his eyes. ‘Well—there’s no real hurry.’
‘No?’ he queried drily. ‘I got the impression you were desperate to get away.’
Yes, she thought, but that was then...
She swallowed. ‘I believe you’ve had a visitor.’
‘The redoubtable Mrs Allan.
’ His grin widened appreciatively. ‘Quite a girl, your sister. With a positive thirst for information.’
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’ Tara bit her lip. ‘She really shouldn’t do this...’
‘She cares about you,’ Adam said flatly. ‘And I told her nothing I didn’t want her to know.’
‘Did she ask about Dean’s Mooring—what you were doing there?’
‘Yes. We had a full and frank exchange of views.’
‘I can imagine,’ Tara muttered. She paused. ‘I haven’t much in the way of food left, so I don’t know what we’re going to do about dinner tonight.’
She was hoping he’d say, We’ll go out somewhere—celebrate.
But he didn’t
‘That’s really what I came to tell you,’ he said quietly. ‘When I got back there were all sorts of messages on my answering machine. I’m going to be pretty tied up this evening.’
Tara looked past him. ‘You’re expecting visitors?’
‘So it seems.’ She knew by the hesitation in his voice exactly whom he was expecting. Caroline, she thought, and pain ripped through her.
He went on, ‘And as I assumed you’d be hightailing it back to London...?’
‘Yes,’ she said, too quickly. ‘Yes, of course. It makes absolute sense. There’s nothing to keep me here.’
‘Tara.’ He took a step forwards and she took a step back, maintaining a careful distance between them. ‘There’s something I need to explain.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘There isn’t. Never apologise—never explain. Isn’t that the new golden rule?’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ There was a touch of grimness in his voice. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I’ll be back in London myself next week, and I’d like to—keep in touch.’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he said roughly. ‘Of course we’re going to see each other.’
‘Why?’ she said. ‘Because you took me to bed, Adam?’ She shrugged. ‘These things happen. It’s not some world-shattering event. We had sex. It was terrific. You’re great.’ She kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘The best I’ve ever had—believe me.’