As far as she was concerned it was a jolly sight too appropriate, Anna thought vexedly. Wondering if he’d just made it up, but afraid to challenge him, she stared resolutely into the glowing fire.
‘Now for my crown…’
He settled the gold crown firmly on his head. It was considerably wider than hers, and sat neatly on his thick corn-coloured hair. ‘What do you think?’
Head on one side, she studied the effect before answering flippantly, ‘It makes you look as though you belong in the medieval swordcraft and sorcery legends, like the ruler of Camelot.’
‘Well, if I’m to be King Arthur you’ll have to change your headband back to a crown and your role to that of Guinevere, Lady of Leonesse.’
When, reluctant to comment, she stayed silent, he pursued, ‘I’m not too familiar with the stories, but as well as being Lancelot’s mistress didn’t Guinevere marry King Arthur and become queen?’
He watched until the colour mounted in her cheeks, before turning his attention to the box.
Having lifted the lid, he said, ‘Well, well, well… And it looks almost good enough to be the genuine article.’
Taking her left hand, he slipped the sparkling solitaire on to the third finger and smiled into her eyes. ‘Now we can consider ourselves engaged.’
Her mouth went dry.
‘Bearing in mind your stated need for some commitment, that’s what I call opportune…’
Weakly, she began, ‘I don’t know what you mean—’
‘Isn’t putting a ring on your finger a necessary preliminary if we’re to become lovers?’
‘But we’re not!’
‘Of course we are,’ he corrected indulgently. ‘We can’t start altering the Arthurian legends.’
So this was just a game he was playing in order to discompose her and amuse himself…
Her fingers still clasped in his, he studied the effect for a moment before observing, ‘Your hand’s slim but strong. A solitaire suits it.’
Then, with no change of tone, ‘Was your real engagement ring a solitaire?’
‘I’ve never had an engagement ring before, either real or pretend.’
Just for an instant his face tightened with what seemed to be anger; then he shrugged slightly and, his expression changing to one of mockery, said, ‘Right, now it’s your turn.’
Hoping she didn’t sound as flustered as she felt, Anna asked, ‘My turn to do what?’
‘I thought, as I’d set the precedent, you might want to give me a kiss for it?’
With the sexual tension running so high, it was the last thing she wanted to do, but, reluctant to make a big deal out of it by refusing, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his cheek.
His voice sardonic, he remarked, ‘How very cool and chaste. Is that the best you can do?’
‘You wanted me to kiss you, and I did.’
‘I can’t help but feel you could show a little more enthusiasm if you tried.’
Rattled now, she informed him, ‘Well, I’ve no intention of trying.’
‘Do I take it you’re afraid of things getting out of hand?’
She was, but, unwilling to admit it, she said, ‘Not at all…’ Trying to sound calm and undisturbed, she added, ‘I’m feeling rather tired. In fact, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to bed.’
Taking off her crown, as if to confirm that the game was over, she got to her feet.
Watching her narrowly, he ran long, lean fingers over his jaw. ‘Running away?’
‘Certainly not,’ she lied. ‘It’s just that it’s getting quite late.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Dear me, so it is! Almost a quarter to eleven.’
Ignoring the sarcasm, she asked, ‘May I take one of the lamps?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I’ll say goodnight.’
Without answering, he rose to his feet and stretched lazily; then, having removed his own crown, went to pick up the second lamp.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked sharply.
‘I thought I’d see you upstairs.’
‘No!’ Swallowing, she added less vehemently, ‘Please don’t trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble. I was going up anyway.’
Trying to keep the panic out of her voice, she reminded him, ‘But earlier you said you were sleeping in front of the fire.’
‘That’s right, I did,’ he agreed.
‘So there’s really no need for you to come up.’
‘I’m afraid there is. For one thing, if I’m sleeping down here I need to fetch some bedding… I’d also like to clean my teeth and take a shower.’
Anna was shuddering at the thought of an icy-cold shower when he added, ‘By the way, I have some good news for you with regards to a shower.’
‘You mean I don’t have to take one?’
Laughing, he told her, ‘When you’ve heard my news you’ll want to.’
‘Do I take it that the generator’s got a new lease of life?’ she asked hopefully.
‘It’s not that good.’
‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’
‘Perhaps it was the shock of this morning’s cold shower that set my brain working, because later I recalled that the bathroom adjoining the nursery used to have a gas water heater.
‘When I went to find the decorations, I took a look. Sure enough there it was, and apparently still serviceable, so I lit it. When I was certain it was going to be okay, I moved everything I thought we might need into there, along with a good supply of towels. It’s only an old-fashioned stand-in-the-bath type shower, but at least the water should be nice and hot.’
‘It sounds wonderful,’ she exclaimed.
Smiling at her fervour, he offered, ‘And, so long as you don’t take more than ten minutes, I’ll let you have first turn.’
‘Lead me to it.’
‘It’s only just along the corridor from your room, so you won’t have far to trek.’
Taking a lamp each, they made their way across the hall and up the stairs.
Away from the warmth of the kitchen the air struck cold, and by the time they reached a door at the end of the corridor Anna was starting to shiver.
‘This is it,’ Gideon announced cheerfully. ‘I’ll leave you to it… Unless, to save the hot water and provide a little more excitement, you’d like to share a shower?’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she said, with more force than politeness, and heard him laugh as he moved away.
Opening the door into an old-fashioned white-tiled bathroom, she found that he’d been as good as his word. There was a large pile of fluffy towels, and her toilet bag and night things had been placed on a long, cork-covered stool, next to his.
It was all so intimate that they could have been man and wife. The thought made the breath catch in her throat and her heart pick up speed.
The heater, as well as providing plenty of hot water, had warmed the air to a reasonable temperature, and if it hadn’t been for the possibility of Gideon returning to find her still undressed Anna would have taken longer.
As it was, she cleaned her teeth and showered without delay, then, having donned her nightdress and dressing-gown, gathered up her belongings and the lamp, and returned to her room.
She was pleased to find that the fire, which had been recently replenished, was burning brightly, and the air was comfortably warm.
As she put the lamp on the mantelpiece, she discovered that a mug of hot chocolate, covered by a saucer, was waiting on the hearth. Sitting by the fire, she took a sip and found it was just how she liked it.
When the mug was empty, hating to go to bed with the taste of chocolate in her mouth, she went into the bathroom to clean her teeth once more.
When she returned to the bedroom, she was startled to find Gideon standing by the hearth, his back to the fire.
‘Why didn’t you knock?’ she demanded.
‘I did, but with the tap running you obviously didn’t hear me.’
He was wearin
g a short burgundy silk dressing-gown, and, judging by his bare legs, not a lot else. With his thick fair hair still damp from the shower, and his green eyes brilliant, he looked dangerously attractive.
Thoroughly rattled, she croaked, ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’
His eyes on her mouth, he said, ‘I have a fancy to kiss you goodnight.’
Remembering only too well how he’d kissed her earlier that evening, and her own helpless response, she cried, ‘No, you mustn’t!’
‘Oh, but I really think I must. You see, knowing what stubble can do to a delicate skin like yours, I’ve shaved especially.’
He lifted her hand and held it to his jaw. ‘Feel,’ he murmured seductively. ‘Smooth as silk.’
Her fingers longed to take up that invitation, to stroke over his chin and trace that beguiling cleft.
Somehow she resisted the temptation and, snatching her hand away as though it had been burnt, said raggedly, ‘I wish you’d go.’
‘You don’t mean that.’ Taking her shoulders in a light grip, he bent his head to rub his cheek against hers.
The fresh, cedar-lime scent of his aftershave in her nostrils, she begged, ‘Please, Gideon, don’t…’
But even as she pleaded she recognised that it was hopeless. Panic-stricken, she pulled away, crying, ‘Why don’t you leave me alone? What do you want?’
Smiling wryly, he said, ‘Do you really need me to answer that?’
Watching the hot colour pour into her face, he went on, ‘I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you, my fascinating, smoky-eyed witch…’
Sliding his hands into the wide sleeves of her towelling dressing-gown, he cupped her elbows and drew her to him.
Like some hypnotised rabbit, she found herself staring into that hard-boned face, unable to look away. The glow from the lamp burnished his hair and threw his features into high relief—the thick sweep of dark lashes, the strong nose, the sensuous curve of his lips.
‘And, though you’ve been fighting it, I know you want me too. The attraction between us was instant and mutual, the chemistry so powerful it was inevitable that we should become lovers.’
She struggled to protest, to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t speak, could no longer deny what she knew to be true.
But she couldn’t let it be true!
Dredged from the depths, a weakened, but still surviving sense of self-preservation enabled her to shake her head. ‘No.’
‘Well, we’ll share a goodnight kiss or two—you can’t deny you want to kiss me—and then see who’s right, shall we?’
‘No, please, I don’t—’
Overriding the half-formed protest, he promised, ‘I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.’
He bent nearer, until his face went out of focus and she was forced to close her eyes, then he started to kiss her.
His kisses were gentle, caring, sweeter than wine; kisses that were undemanding, meant to give pleasure rather than ask for a response.
He grazed over her cheeks and her eyelids and her lips, before finding the silky skin beneath her jaw and tracing the curve of her throat to the warm hollow at the base. Only after moving up to leisurely explore the neat whorls of one ear, and the vulnerable point where shoulder and neck met, did his mouth return to hers.
She began to shiver as he bestowed a series of tantalising little caresses that alternately stroked and plucked at her lips.
Now he was kissing the way he teased—skilfully, persuasively, beguilingly, making her long to kiss him back.
Between kisses he whispered, ‘You’re quite enchanting… No other woman has ever stirred my senses in the way that you do… The moment I saw you I fell under a spell. Now I’m afraid I might never be free again, just fated to become more and more enslaved…’
She hadn’t expected to be seduced by words, and had no defence against them. With a consummate skill, and an ease that dismayed her, he was making himself the master of both her mind and her body.
His hands slid from her elbows to her wrists, then, leaving her sleeves, spread themselves flat-palmed against her spine to urge her closer.
Though he was some six inches taller, she had long legs, and they fitted together snugly, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.
As, his mouth brushing hers, he pressed her soft, feminine curves to his hard, masculine body, her lips parted on a gasp, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
‘Mmm…’ He murmured his satisfaction, and while his fingers stroked the warm skin of her nape and tangled themselves in the dark silk of her hair, he began to explore her mouth with unhurried enjoyment.
She found it mind-blowing.
No one else had ever kissed her in this way. David had always been an impatient lover, regarding any but the most cursory of kisses as a waste of time. Too selfish, too concerned with his own needs, she realised now, to want to give pleasure.
Being kissed so intimately, and with such leisurely appreciation, made little shivers of ecstasy run up and down her spine and every separate nerve-ending in her body zing into life.
While her pulses leapt and her mind reeled, she tried hard to keep a grasp on sanity, to retain enough self-control to enable her to call a halt when she wanted to.
But soon she was swamped by a growing need, a desire to give in, to throw caution to the winds and abandon herself to the pleasure he was giving her.
But if she did, if she let him go on, she would be lost. The small voice of common-sense made itself heard.
Gathering every ounce of strength, both mental and physical, she put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away.
She might as well have tried to move a mountain.
‘Please let me go,’ she begged.
His arms merely tightened, trapping her there.
‘Why? After all, you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?’
Too much.
‘You said you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do,’ she reminded him jerkily. ‘And I don’t want you to go on.’
‘But you do want me to go on—we both know that.’
‘No! If you do…’ Though she left the sentence in midair, it was as explicit as if she’d completed it.
Smiling a little, he promised, ‘I’ll stop when you can convince me that you really want me to stop.’
Shivering, she wondered how on earth she could convince him when she couldn’t convince herself?
His hands cupping her face, holding it up to his and tilting it to suit his wishes, he began to kiss her again, masterful now.
Unable to free herself from his commanding hold on her senses, and the compelling excitement of his kiss, she opened her mouth to his demand.
Having won this small battle, he savoured his spoils to the full.
While she struggled to cope with the sensations his caressing tongue was creating, one hand was busy untying the belt of her robe and slipping it from her shoulders, so that for a moment its weight hung on her arms before he eased it free and let it fall to the floor.
Through the thin cotton of her nightdress his hand began to follow the curve of her breast. Her heart lurched drunkenly, and her insides tied themselves into a knot.
Raising his head, watching her rapt face, he started to brush the nipple with his thumb, making a core of liquid heat form in the pit of her stomach.
Wondering dazedly how so light a touch could cause such exquisite delight, such a flood of desire, she made a small sound, almost like a moan.
His hand stilled, and he said, ‘Look at me, Anna.’ When her heavy lids lifted, green eyes looking deeply into grey, he asked, ‘Do you want me to stop?’
Part of her knew quite clearly that if she said yes, and meant it, he would.
But she didn’t want him to stop.
Over the years she had repressed her natural urge to love and be loved, built a cool, defensive wall to hide behind while she waited for the right man.
For a short time she had mistakenly imagined that David m
ight be that man, but now she knew with complete certainty that Gideon was the one she had been waiting for…
His hands moving to grip the soft flesh of her upper arms, he gave her a slight shake. ‘Do you, Anna?’
With a sigh, she shook her head.
His handsome eyes darkened to jade. ‘So there’ll be no mistake. I want to hear you say it out loud.’
‘I don’t want you to stop.’
A strange look flitted across his face, and after a second or two, his voice level, he laid it on the line. ‘If I do go on, there’ll be no turning back.’
‘I know,’ she answered thickly.
She heard his indrawn breath, before he said, ‘In that case, suppose you take off your nightdress?’
It was a challenge.
Knowing she’d come too far to turn back, she accepted it.
Pulling the garment over her head, she dropped it at her feet. Then, little shivers running through her, unconsciously holding her breath, she waited in an agony of suspense for his touch.
But he seemed to be in no hurry. His eyes moved over her slowly, appreciatively, noting that she was beautifully proportioned, with small, firm breasts, a slim waist, nicely rounded hips and long slender legs.
‘You’re the loveliest thing I ever set eyes on,’ he said softly. ‘Every man’s dream come true… Your skin is flawless, and your breasts are even lovelier than I’d imagined…’
As though assessing her reaction, with a single fingertip he followed the curve of creamy flesh, almost touching the nipple, but not quite.
While she stood still as a statue in the golden glow of the lamp his finger made the return journey, pausing to circle the dusky pink areola.
Smiling at the evidence of her arousal, he went on, ‘I want to kiss them, to nuzzle my face against them, to take a nipple in my mouth and feel it grow even firmer as I suckle…’
Watching the embarrassed colour flood into her cheeks, he asked, ‘Does my saying such things aloud shock you?’
She nodded, and dipped her head. His words had both shocked and excited her.
‘Why?’
‘I suppose I’m a bit of a prude,’ she admitted, adding jerkily, ‘I’m afraid I can’t help it.’
For a moment he looked genuinely surprised, then he began to kiss her burning face, a shower of little tender kisses.
A Vengeful Deception Page 11