Smiling, she shook his hand. ‘Prudence,’ she said firmly. ‘And thank you, Janos, for making me feel so welcome.’
He bowed. ‘No. Thank you for making this happen. You’ve made an old man very happy. And, as sorry as I am that Seymour was unable to be here, I’m in no way disappointed by his replacement. Don’t worry, though! I won’t tell anyone. It can be our little secret.’
‘A remote castle in Hungary and a beautiful woman with a secret. How intriguing! It sounds like the plot for some kind of historical romance.’
They both turned to find Laszlo watching them from the doorway. His eyes fixed on Prudence and then his gaze shifted to his grandfather, his face softening into a smile.
‘So!’ He walked into the room and stopped in front of the painting, frowning. ‘What’s the big secret, then?’
He was still smiling, but his voice was blunt—like a knife against a whetstone. Since her arrival he’d been tormented by dreams of Prudence naked in the barn, and yet every time he’d met her she’d been polite but glacially remote. His smile tightened. It was an icy aloofness that appeared to be reserved only for him, for she’d established a sweetly flirtatious rapport with his grandfather.
Shaking his head, Janos patted his grandson on the arm. ‘Oh, I was just trying to reassure Prudence that her presence here was in no way a disappointment. In fact, I’m rather hoping she might agree to be a charming, if sadly temporary, addition to our bachelor evenings of chess and backgammon.’
Forcing herself to look straight ahead, Prudence managed a faint smile. ‘That would be lovely, Mr de— I mean Janos. But I wouldn’t want to intrude.’
Janos shook his head. ‘Not at all. You’re a long way from home,’ he said firmly. ‘And while you’re our guest it’s our job to make you feel welcome—isn’t it, Laszlo?’
Prudence caught her breath as Laszlo gave the ghost of a smile and nodded slowly. ‘Of course, Papi,’ he said stiffly. ‘But right now you need to go downstairs and find Rosa. Apparently you’re supposed to be discussing curtains?’
Janos frowned. ‘Ah, yes. The curtains. I hadn’t forgotten. I just rather hoped Rosa had.’ He ran a hand over his face and cast an apologetic glance towards Prudence. ‘If you’ll excuse me, my dear? Perhaps, however, I can persuade you to join Laszlo and myself for lunch?’
Watching Janos leave, Prudence felt a pit open up in her stomach and the air seemed suddenly to swell in the pulsing, steepening silence. Since arriving at the castle three days ago she’d made a point of staying in the cottage outside of work hours, and had hardly seen Laszlo except at mealtimes, when she’d found his marked courtesy towards her both grating and depressing. Only now here they were: alone. There was nowhere to hide from his dark, probing gaze. Or from the fluttering, shivery anticipation squirming inside her.
Biting her lip, she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear before remembering that, as usual for work, she’d tied it back into a low ponytail.
‘I don’t have to come to lunch. I could say I have work to do. Or that I’ve got a headache.’ She spoke quickly, desperate to say something before her body began to slip apart and she couldn’t even think straight, far less talk.
Laszlo stared at her, his face expressionless, and then he said coldly, ‘I’d rather you didn’t keep lying to my grandfather, Prudence.’
She glared at him. ‘I’m not lying. I do have work I could be doing.’ And, turning, she began to rifle pointedly through a pile of papers on the desk.
‘And the headache?’ Laszlo said relentlessly.
Gritting her teeth, Prudence turned back to face him. ‘Also true—and standing right in front of me!’ she snapped.
Laszlo stared at her for a long, long moment, until finally he began to drift around the room. From the corner of her eye, she watched furtively as he walked up to his mother’s painting and idly ran a finger down the frame.
‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ she snapped finally.
Turning, he shrugged, and then in a voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright, he said mildly, ‘I have a cure for headaches.’
His eyes locked onto hers and she felt heat break out on her skin. Clenching her fists, she gave him an icy glare. ‘So do I. Painkillers. In my handbag.’
Laszlo frowned. ‘You shouldn’t take pills for a headache. They’re not a cure. You need to treat the cause, not the symptom.’
Prudence glanced at him irritably. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were a doctor. Is that another of your parallel lives?’
A muscle flickered in his cheek. ‘I don’t like you taking drugs.’
‘It’s a painkiller!’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘And I’d be grateful if you kept your remarks to matters relating to the cataloguing. That is unless you think my drug-taking is affecting my job—’
She gazed at him in astonishment as he began peering under tables and rifling through canvases. ‘Be careful! Don’t touch them without gloves.’
She hurried across the room, and then her feet stuttered to a halt as he turned to face her.
‘Wh—what are you doing?’ she stammered. His eyes rested on her face and, legs shaking, she pressed her knees together as her body tightened automatically in response.
‘I’m looking for your high horse,’ he said softly. ‘Or is he in stables with all the others?’
Prudence swallowed. ‘Very funny! I don’t know why you’re making fun of me. It was you who said we couldn’t discuss anything apart from the cataloguing. I’m just following the rules.’
‘But I make the rules. And I can change them too.’
She held her breath as his eyes locked onto hers. Then, abruptly, he walked towards the window and glanced outside.
‘What you need is some fresh air,’ he said smoothly. ‘And some sunlight. A walk, maybe. You used to like going for walks.’
Prudence licked her lips. A sudden, all too vivid memory of where a walk with Laszlo might lead flashed into her head and she felt heat rise up inside her. Cheeks burning, she fumbled for the remnants of her anger—for something that would banish the slow, treacherous thickening of her blood.
‘Okay. I’ll go for a walk before lunch. Satisfied? And now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’
Desperate for him to be gone, she put her hands on her hips and stared pointedly at the door. But instead of leaving he simply stood and watched her in silence until she thought she would scream.
‘Why are you still here?’ she snapped finally. ‘Don’t you have some suits of armour you could polish or something? I thought you had a job running a restaurant.’
He shrugged, shook his head. ‘A chain of restaurants actually. But no. I’m entirely unoccupied.’
Her eyes narrowed. In other words, he was bored. And she was—what? The entertainment? ‘Well, I’m not,’ she said flatly. ‘So why don’t you go climb your towers and survey your estate?’
‘Turrets...’ Laszlo murmured. ‘From the Italian torretta. They help protect a castle from hostile intruders. At least, they’re supposed to.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m ready when you are,’ he added softly.
Prudence felt a niggle of dread. ‘Ready for what?’
He frowned. ‘Our walk, of course.’
His eyes were fixed on her shocked face and she shook her head. Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could hardly hear herself.
‘I said no, Laszlo!’
She took a step back and Laszlo stared at her mockingly.
‘Come on! You need some fresh air. And besides, Rosa gave me some linen to bring over to the cottage. I’ll never hear the end of it if I let you carry it. So either I can come with you now or I can drop by later.’
Prudence stared at him in silence; she felt like a mouse cornered by a cat. But surely she was being over-anxious? She glanced down at her demure navy blouse and olive-coloured work trousers. It wasn’t as though she was dressed for seduction. Besides—she bit her lip—she didn’t want him turning up at th
e cottage at night!
‘Fine. Let’s get it over and done with, then. But I’ll need to take one of these boxes back with me, so you’ll have to wait until I’ve sorted out the paperwork.’
Five minutes later she was walking resentfully towards the cottage, trying to ignore the fact that Laszlo was strolling alongside her, clutching what appeared to be nothing more burdensome than a pile of tea towels. To add insult to injury, the document box she’d chosen to bring with her seemed to have doubled in weight since they’d left the castle and her arms now felt as if they were on fire.
‘Here. Let me.’ A lean brown hand reached out towards her.
‘I can manage,’ she muttered, but Laszlo ignored her feeble resistance. Tugging the box out of her hands, he tucked it under his arm before continuing to saunter calmly by her side.
Determinedly she carried on walking, staring fixedly at the horizon until finally, and to her infinite relief, she saw the roof of the cottage come into view.
She stopped and turned towards him.
‘Thanks very much. I think I can take it from here.’ Looking up at him, she blinked, feeling suddenly hot and stupid as he smiled at her coolly.
‘You know, it’s hotter than I thought,’ he murmured, glancing up at the midday sun. ‘Perhaps I could just grab a glass of water?’
She caught the glint in his eye and gritted her teeth; he’d be asking for a pot of tea and biscuits next. Quickening her pace, she marched across the grass, fuming in silence.
Suddenly he was beside her again. ‘Why aren’t you talking?’
Eyes flashing with fury, she spun round to face him. ‘Mainly because I have absolutely nothing to say to you.’
She watched the corner of his mouth tug upwards.
‘Oh, I think you’ve got plenty to say to me,’ he said softly.
Feeling hopelessly out of her depth, she let out a breath and pointedly looked in the other direction.
Laszlo watched her intently. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve always thought talking was overrated and I can think of much better things to do with your mouth.’
Her chest grew tight. Things were getting too complicated. Breathing was suddenly difficult, and hastily she began to walk down the sloping path that led towards the cottage. The path was still damp from some overnight rain, and as her shoes slithered beneath her she almost fell. Her heart jerked as Laszlo reached over and caught her hand to steady her.
‘Careful,’ he warned softly. ‘Or is walking with me so traumatic you’d rather break your own neck?’
Knocked off balance by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes, she stood half swaying against him. Her blood was singing and heat and confusion crackled under her skin. Looking up, she saw that the sky had grown dark. The air felt suddenly viscous and heavy. A storm was coming.
‘It’s these shoes. The soles are slippery,’ she mumbled, her cheeks suddenly hot.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got you,’ he said calmly.
Holding her breath, she felt his grip on her hand tighten as the first drops of rain splashed onto her face.
They ran towards the cottage, stopping at the door to face one another.
‘I guess I don’t need that water any more,’ he said hoarsely.
Heart pounding, Prudence stared at him. She knew he was giving her a choice. But what choice was there really? Wordlessly she stepped towards him and then, by way of reply, she reached up, slid her arm around his neck and pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth.
Groaning, he pulled her against him, pushing the door open with his body and kicking it shut behind them both. Her mouth parted beneath his and he pulled her towards him, capturing her face between his hands. Grunting, he pulled lightly at the knot at the nape of her neck, tugging her hair free, weaving his fingers between the silken strands.
She moaned, curling her fingers into his shirt, and he deepened the kiss, slowly, languidly sliding his tongue between her lips, teasing her, tasting heat and sweetness. He felt her stir restlessly against him and he groaned softly, his groin tightening in response as she kissed him back, pressing her mouth to his, then catching his lower lip between her teeth.
Senses swimming, he lifted his mouth, his breath snagging in his throat as her hands slid under his shirt, and then he turned his head, breaking the kiss. His pulse seemed to trip and stumble as the scent of her, warm and clean and sweet, filled his nostrils.
‘Prudence...’ he murmured softly. She looked up at him and his stomach clenched, his body growing painfully hard. He saw the struggle within her eyes that so sharply echoed his own. ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.’
The tension inside him was fast, dark and swirling, like a spring tide rising. He could barely breathe for wanting her. Suddenly he was fighting to stay calm.
Reaching out, he touched her cheek gently. ‘Do you want this?’ he asked roughly. The air felt suddenly thick in his throat and he could barely speak. ‘Do you want me?’
She looked up at him and their eyes met, and then she nodded, and her face seemed suddenly to open and uncurl like a flower feeling the sun.
Slowly he let out his breath, and as he traced his thumb over the soft fullness of her mouth, he heard her gasp. A fierce heat engulfed him, for it was the sound of surrender. Desire leapt in his throat and, leaning forward, he lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers.
‘I want to see you. All of you,’ he whispered hoarsely.
In the darkness of the room her eyes looked feverish, almost glazed, and her soft pink mouth was trembling. Reaching out, he undid the fastening of her trousers and gently pushed them down over her hips. Straightening up, he watched dry-mouthed as she unbuttoned her blouse with trembling hands and shrugged it off, so that she was undressed except for the palest pink bra and panties.
Time slowed and Laszlo gazed at her, heart thudding, wordless, waiting. Heat seemed to burn every inch of him and his head was spinning wildly.
‘Take them off,’ he said finally, and slowly she unhooked the bra and peeled it from her shoulders.
His breath rasped in his throat as he stared at her small upturned breasts. She was so beautiful. Helplessly, he reached out and pulled her towards him, sliding his hands slowly up her thighs, over her hips and waist to her breasts, his thumbs brushing against them until he heard her cry out in pleasure.
Then suddenly, he was guiding her back towards the sofa, tugging his shirt off at the same time, wanting to feel the touch of her skin against his. Breathing deeply, he wrenched off his shirt. His eyes never leaving her face, he moved swiftly towards her, straddling her legs and pressing his mouth against the petal-smooth softness of her throat, then lower to the curve of her breast. His lips grazed the rose-coloured nipple, feeling it quiver and harden, and then his mouth closed over the tip, his tongue sliding over it, taking his time.
Blood was roaring in his head, swelling and rolling, humming like a cloud of bees about to swarm. Blindly he reached out and cupped her bottom, lifting her against him. He heard her gasp, felt her arch closer as his hands moved slowly over her hips and between her thighs. He felt her still beneath him as his hand caressed the apex of her thighs, brushing over the already damp silk. Gently he slid her panties over the curve of her bottom. Her fingers gripped the muscles of his arm and she whispered his name, and then her hand moved down over his chest and stomach and she was tugging at the buckle of his belt.
He groaned as she unzipped him, her fingers curling around him, freeing him. Trembling, his breath quickening in his throat, he shifted his weight, moving between her knees, spreading her legs. Her hips lifted to meet him and he pushed up, entering her with a gasp. He heard her answering moan of pleasure and began to move, thrusting inside her.
She clutched him tighter, her body shuddering, her hands tangling through his hair, pressing against him, pressing and pressing—and then she tensed and he heard her cry out. As he felt her flower beneath him he thrust hard, his muscles rippling, his breath choking in hi
s throat and his body spilling inside her.
He lay still and spent. Her body was still gripping him tightly, and gently he caressed her warm, damp skin, feeling the spasms of her body fade. The sound of the rain was deafening now and he was grateful, for it blotted out the frantic beating of his heart.
Breathing unsteadily, he buried his face in her neck, trying to sort out his thoughts. It had been inevitable, he told himself bleakly. Since that moment in the barn the sexual tension between them had been ratcheted up to breaking point. Every single time they’d met it had felt like a minor earthquake. And today, finally, they’d snapped. His heart began to beat faster. It was only natural.
He frowned. But that didn’t make it right. He glanced down at the woman lying in his arms. In the barn, he had ached with wanting her. Her refusal to give in to the powerful sexual attraction they had for one another had been infuriating, not to say painful. He sighed. But now he wondered whether by giving in to that hunger he’d merely set himself up for another sort of discomfort.
His breathing slowed. Hypothetically, it was easy to fall into bed with a woman to whom you had no commitment. There was no need for post-coital conversation or affection. No need even to see her again. But Prudence wasn’t just any woman. She was his wife and pretty much nothing about their relationship was easy.
Feeling her shift against him, he frowned. Now he’d added another layer of complexity to their already tangled relationship. In fact, he was struggling to work out how to even describe what was going on between them—for while he was ostensibly her husband, he was also her boss...and now her lover.
Lightly, he traced a finger down her arm. He must have been crazy to let her stay and work for him, and crazier still to end up sleeping with her. But how was he supposed to resist her when everywhere he looked she was there? Laughing with his grandfather or bending over a notebook, her bottom jutting so alluringly towards him... His face darkened as he felt her stir beside him. It was too late to worry about resisting her. The only question that remained was what he should do next.
Vows Made in Secret Page 8