The Seduction Game

by Craven, Sara

  Her body arched to meet him, the breath sighing from her throat as he touched her, the cool fingers stroking the tiny crest of her womanhood, creating slow tides of pure sensation, as if she was the sea and he the moon that drew her.

  She moaned softly in delight, her hands seeking him in their turn, holding him, adoring the male power of him, then guiding him to her. Into her.

  For a moment they were both still, as though acknowledging the miracle of their coming together. Then they began to move, their bodies creating their own intimate harmony, rising and falling, giving and receiving. Inciting, too, and withholding, balancing on some knife-edge of pleasure.

  Until, at last, control became impossible, and there was only rapture.

  A long time later Adam fetched wine, and they drank together out of the same glass, and talked softly about the life they would have together—and, with wonder, how impossible it had once seemed.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you after I rushed you into bed,’ Adam confessed. ‘I hoped so badly that you’d tell me you loved me—but instead we were further apart than ever.’

  She framed his face tenderly between her hands. ‘I was just being noble. Handing you back to the woman you were promised to.’

  ‘And all the time it was you.’ He kissed the tip of her nose, then paused. ‘Tara—if I’d told you that first night we had dinner together, what would you have said?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she told him honestly. ‘I knew there was—something powerful there, but I’d spent a long time telling myself that love wasn’t for me. Maybe I’d have stayed and listened. More probably I’d have run.’

  She lifted herself on to an elbow. ‘Where are we going to live?’

  ‘I have a house in Hampstead,’ he said. ‘I thought you might look at it. See if you like it.’

  ‘How big is it?’

  ‘Big enough for two.’ He smiled at her. ‘Or more.’

  She laughed, stretching luxuriously. ‘Sounds ideal.’

  ‘And for weekends we’ll have Dean’s Mooring,’ he went on.

  ‘But you were going to develop it...?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I abandoned that plan some time ago. Decided the place deserved another chance at family life. And I’m getting a lot of hassle from Bernie as a consequence. She saw it in commercial terms. I had to tell her my future happiness depended on it’

  ‘Oh,’ Tara said, as light dawned. ‘I see now. Bernie’s your partner—your business partner.’ She grinned. ‘Well, Leo was right. She’s certainly gorgeous.’

  ‘Her husband and two sons obviously think so,’ Adam said drily.

  ‘Why did you change your mind—about Dean’s Mooring?’

  ‘Because of you,’ he said. ‘And because the ambience of the place had started to get to me, in spite of the past I’d always thought of Dean’s Mooring in terms of anger and unhappiness, and hated it. But being there with you made me see it didn’t have to be like that.’

  She said gently, ‘Do you want to tell me about your grandfather?’

  Adam lay back on the pillow, frowning a little. ‘He was a very rich, very selfish man. He believed that women existed to serve, and treated my grandmother accordingly. And he was paranoid about people trying to cheat him, so they never entertained at home, or went out very much. But within the limits he imposed she made friends, and a life for herself.

  ‘And when her daughter was born, she was determined that she should have independence. It was one of the few things she stood up to the old monster about.

  ‘One day he announced he’d sold their house, and they were coming to live at Dean’s Mooring. My grandmother was terribly distressed. It meant losing her friends, and the garden which she’d created and adored. And she was afraid, and rightly so, that it would mean Ambrose becoming more reclusive than ever.’

  ‘What did your mother think?’

  ‘She’d managed to distance herself. She’d gone away to school, and then won a place at university. She had her career planned, and she’d also met my father, who was doing post-graduate work.’

  He paused. ‘And then my grandmother died—very suddenly of a heart attack. When Caroline came home for the funeral my grandfather told her she was to leave university and live with him—to cook and keep house as her mother had done. And when she protested he got angry, and told her that she wouldn’t be able to continue with her course anyway, because he was withdrawing all financial support.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘They quarrelled—seriously. He said if she didn’t do as he demanded he would never see her again. But she went back to university anyway. My father was doing paid research for one of his professors, and he had a full grant, so they got married and managed somehow.

  ‘She wrote to Ambrose about her marriage, and told him when I was born too, but he never answered. And a long time later, when I was quite small, she took me down to Dean’s Mooring. I can remember standing outside as she knocked on the door, begging him to open it And his voice telling her to go away. That he never wanted to see her again, and as far as he was concerned she was dead.

  ‘As we walked away I can remember her crying, and I promised myself then that I’d come back one day and tear the house down, brick by brick. Destroy it completely.’

  He paused. ‘The day you saw my mother was the first day she’d ever been back. She’s been a widow for nearly five years now, and I knew she was going to find it—difficult. So I needed to be there for her.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was soft. ‘Oh, yes, of course, my love.’ She was silent for a moment ‘We’ll fight, you know.’

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. ‘Your cat, my dog. But the making-up will be more than worth it, I promise.’ He looked at her, his eyes questioning, suddenly vulnerable. ‘So, will you marry me, Tara, my one and only love?’

  ‘I’m yours,’ she said. ‘Now and for always.’ And drew him gently down to her.

  EPILOGUE

  AS SHE leaned on the window-sill of her bedroom at Dean’s Mooring, Tara could see that the leaves were falling from the silver birches across the river, and feel a tang of autumn in the late-afternoon breeze. The long summer was coming to an end at last.

  . It had been a busy sixteen months, with the wedding first, and then the renovation of the house to supervise. In fact, she and Adam had done a lot of the work themselves, until circumstances had forced her to take life rather more easily.

  The sound of voices and soft laughter drifted up to her, and Tara looked down smiling as her mother and father came into view, with Caroline beside them pushing the baby buggy.

  Strange how nervous she’d been of meeting Adam’s mother, she thought. She’d watched with real trepidation as the tall, elegant figure with its immaculately coiffed blonde hair had walked into her flat with Adam for the first time. After all, this was one powerful lady.

  But as Caroline had come close to her she’d seen that the impression of brittle chic was an illusion. That the still-beautiful face was warm and lived-in, and wise. And had found herself looking into eyes that smiled at her like Adam’s.

  ‘So you’re going to be the daughter I always wanted,’ Caroline had said softly, and hugged her.

  And, after little Carrie was born, Tara had treasured with tears in her eyes the piece that Caroline had written in Woman’s Voice on the joy of becoming a grandmother and the beauty of her granddaughter.

  She heard footsteps on the stair and Adam came in, carrying his daughter in the crook of his arm.

  ‘She’s starting to grizzle,’ he announced.

  ‘She knows it’s suppertime.’ Tara unbuttoned her dress and the baby’s puckered rosebud mouth closed hungrily on her nipple.

  Adam lounged on the bed, his face serious and tender as he watched them together. ‘That,’ he said softly, ‘is something I shall never tire of seeing.’

  Tara looked at him, her eyes luminous with love. ‘You look pretty good yourself. Fatherhood suits you.’

  ‘Marriage
suits me,’ he said. ‘And you suit me most of all. Why have you closed your eyes?’

  ‘Because I want to remember this moment always. The three of us here, and how safe we are, how loved and strong.’ A smile quivered on her lips. ‘Am I tempting fate?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘We make our own destinies. But whatever they throw at us in the future I’m going to be there for you, Tara.’

  ‘And I for you,’ she said gently. ‘My dearest love.’

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-5182-3

  THE SEDUCTION GAME

  First North American Publication 1999.

  Copyright © 1999 by Sara Craven.

  All rights reserved Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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