Marriage on the Agenda

by Lee Wilkinson

  Through the pouring rain she could see the taxi was no longer there.

  Turning on him, she demanded angrily, ‘What did you do? Pay him off and tell him to go?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ He rose to face her. ‘I suggested to Jane that she told him there was no need to wait, as you’d decided to stay the night, and then used the cab to get home herself.’

  Her heart starting to thud against her ribs, Loris said, ‘She must be very trusting if she was prepared to go off and leave another woman here…’

  ‘She trusts me implicitly,’ he assured her, straight-faced.

  ‘I fail to see why she should, when she knows perfectly well that I had no intention of staying the night.’

  ‘Had? Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?’

  Gritting her teeth, she said, ‘No, it doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind. So perhaps you’ll be good enough to call me another taxi.’

  ‘I’m afraid I left my mobile at the office, and the phone here isn’t connected yet,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘You’re lying. I rang Fenny Manor late this afternoon and spoke to Mrs Marchant.’

  ‘I can assure you she was at Harefield then. I was with her when she left the message, and also when you phoned back later.’

  Thoroughly agitated now, Loris said, ‘Well, as you’re responsible for me being stranded here, I must ask you to drive me at least as far as the nearest phone box.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have no transport, and even if I had it wouldn’t be safe to drive over the bridge.’

  ‘If you have no transport, how did you both get back from Harefield?’

  ‘We came by taxi. After going through some deepish water on my way from London my car was playing up so, rather than chance getting stuck, I left it at Jane’s to be looked at.’

  He seemed to have an answer for everything, though she was convinced it was all just a clever fabrication.

  Wondering what kind of game he was playing, what his intentions were, she fought down a feeling bordering on panic and announced firmly, ‘Then I’ll walk to the village and phone from there.’

  ‘The way the water’s still rising you’d have a job to make it on foot… And, apart from that, it must be getting a bit risky to cross the bridge.’

  Shuddering at the memory, she nevertheless said, ‘Well, I’ll have to chance it. Anything’s better than being trapped here.’

  He smiled crookedly. ‘Death before dishonour? How very melodramatic.’

  ‘It’s nothing to joke about,’ she told him vexedly. ‘Mrs Marchant may trust you now, but what would she say if she knew what happened on Saturday night?’

  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Jane’s extremely broad-minded.’

  ‘Well, Mark isn’t, and if he discovered I’d spent the night here alone with you—’

  ‘Oh, we won’t be alone. Elizabeth is here.’

  ‘Elizabeth? Who’s Elizabeth?’

  Stooping to throw another log on the fire, he answered, ‘Our resident ghost. A friendly one, so they tell me. Though I haven’t encountered her personally.’

  ‘Will you be serious for once? As I’ve absolutely no intention of working for you, and we’re both about to get married…’

  He gave her a quick sidelong glance from between thick gold-tipped lashes. His expression held a hint of amusement.

  ‘You are aren’t you?’ she demanded.

  ‘Hopefully.’

  ‘Then what’s the point of all this?’

  Looking serious now, he said, ‘I thought while we were both still single it would be nice to spend another night together.’

  ‘Nice!’ she choked. ‘You must be out of your mind!’

  ‘I’m aware that in the morning you had some second thoughts, but on the whole you seemed to enjoy it enough to be willing to repeat the experience.’

  ‘You know what?’ she said shakily. ‘When you’re on the point of marrying someone else, that’s the most immoral suggestion I ever heard!’

  He looked pained.

  ‘I don’t know how you had the nerve to criticise Mark,’ she went on, two bright spots of angry colour appearing in her cheeks. ‘Compared to you, he’s practically a saint!’

  Jonathan smiled derisively. ‘He’s very far from being a saint. Believe me, any criticism I made of Longton was quite justified. He’s a womaniser and a bully. Look at the way he treated you.’

  Taking her right hand, where the cuff of her cream silk blouse failed to hide a slight red mark, he gently touched his lips to the inside of her wrist.

  It was the sort of thing Mark would never have dreamt of doing, and, oddly shaken by the tenderness of the gesture, she jerked her wrist free.

  ‘That was as much your fault as Mark’s. If you hadn’t gone out of your way to make trouble—’

  ‘Now, is that a nice thing to say?’ he complained.

  ‘It may not be nice, but it’s a fact. And one of these days, if you go on like this, you’re going to end up in serious bother. Each time you’ve come up against Mark you’ve deliberately provoked him, and if I’d admitted it was you who told me the story about the mistress and the baby—’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. In fact I convinced him it wasn’t you. Otherwise you’d have had no job left by now.’

  Finding it a relief to let off steam, she continued to berate him. ‘You just don’t seem to care; you were even late for the meeting, and in your position…’

  Her voice tailed off as something struck her. ‘You said you were at Harefield with Mrs Marchant when she left the message on my answering machine…?’

  ‘That’s right.’ An unholy gleam in his eye told her he was following her train of thought.

  ‘The message was timed at three-fifty. You should have still been at the office—so why weren’t you?’

  ‘I’ll give you one guess.’

  She half shook her head, unwilling to believe it.

  When he said nothing, merely waited, she stammered, ‘Y-you don’t mean Mark…?’

  ‘Fired me?’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘He tried. As soon as I walked into the meeting he cursed me roundly and told me to get out.’

  Concerned, despite herself, she asked, ‘Couldn’t William Grant help?’

  ‘I didn’t want him to. It suited me to go.’

  Of course… Wasn’t he planning to marry someone with money?

  Wearily, she asked, ‘So this plan to lure me down here and force me to stay the night, was it done simply for revenge?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think you’re utterly despicable.’

  ‘That’s a pity, because I think you’re quite enchanting.’

  Turning her back on him, she headed for the door.

  For the second time that day he was there before her, his back to the panels.

  ‘Please get out of my way,’ she said curtly. ‘I want to go.’

  When he made no move, she insisted, ‘I mean it. I’m not joking.’

  ‘Neither am I, when I tell you I have no intention of letting you leave here at least until morning… And possibly not then.’

  Her heart starting to throw itself against her ribs, she protested, ‘You can’t keep me here.’

  ‘I rather think I can,’ he corrected mildly.

  ‘Please, Jonathan,’ she begged.

  ‘I intend to,’ he assured her with a little smile. ‘In fact I can promise you delight…’

  ‘No!’ Heat running through her, she whispered, ‘I don’t want to make love with you, and if you try to force me I’ll never forgive you. Never!’

  ‘I’ve no intention of trying to force you.’

  Her relief was short-lived as he added, ‘I’ll find ways of pleasuring you that will make you more than willing to come to bed with me…’

  Every nerve in her body tightened and, to her horror, she felt the stirrings of desire. Scared to death now, not so much of him as of her own reactions, she moistened h
er dry lips.

  ‘You’re starting to want me already, without me even touching you,’ he taunted.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Loris, I can see it in your face, in the way your body is already responding to the mere thought.’

  She had never in her wildest dreams imagined herself in this kind of predicament. For more than three months she had tried to respond to Mark’s caresses, his passionate kisses, and not been as moved as this, so how could Jonathan affect her so strongly with just a look and a few words?

  Aware that her nipples were growing firm, and terrified that he’d see the evidence of her arousal though the thin silk of her blouse, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  The betraying gesture made him laugh softly.

  Turning away abruptly, she went to stand by the fire. If she couldn’t prevent herself weakening, she must find some way to hide it.

  When Jonathan said he wouldn’t try to force her, she believed him. If she could only say no and mean it, he wouldn’t touch her.

  But, as though he held the key to her newly awakened sexuality, her body was only too responsive, so it was all down to will-power.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WELL, she had never been short of that, Loris told herself hardily, then jumped a mile as Jonathan came to stand close behind her.

  Moving aside the swathe of long dark hair, he touched his lips to the soft skin of her nape, making her shiver.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said raggedly. ‘I don’t want you to touch me.’

  ‘My sweet little liar…’ He nibbled at the sensitive juncture where the neck and shoulder met. ‘You do want me to touch you.’

  He slid his hands over her ribcage and let them rest so that his thumbs just brushed the undersides of her breasts. She could feel their warmth through the fine crêpe de Chine of her blouse.

  Standing irresolute, she wondered frantically what would be her best means of defence. Would it be to turn and fight, or try to ignore what he was doing to her?

  Deciding on passive resistance, she feigned indifference while his mouth travelled slowly up the side of her neck, biting and teasing, sending little frissons of excitement running through her.

  She was so busy trying to resist the delicious torment of his tongue-tip exploring the warm hollow behind her ear that she was scarcely aware of his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her blouse.

  Not until his hands were cupping breasts protected only by a dainty scrap of satin and lace did she fully appreciate her danger.

  And then it was almost too late.

  His thumbs were rubbing lightly across her nipples, arousing a suffocating excitement when, his lips brushing her ear, he whispered, ‘I know quite well you’re not indifferent. I can feel your heart pounding, and your breath coming faster.’

  ‘That’s revulsion,’ she said thickly.

  He laughed. ‘I’ve always liked a woman to have a touch of fighting spirit.’

  ‘If you don’t take your hands off me this minute, I’ll show you more than a touch of fighting spirit.’

  ‘Be careful,’ he warned, ‘there’s nothing that inflames a man’s passion more than a struggle.’

  Guessing he’d only said that to make her stand submissively, she pulled herself free and swung round, her hand raised to slap his face.

  She gave a little gasp as his fingers closed around her wrist.

  His grip loosened immediately. ‘Forgive me, I forgot about the bruise.’

  Then, holding her hand lightly, he offered his cheek. ‘Feel free to go ahead and slap me if it will make you feel any better.’

  The mocking smile that accompanied his offer was like a match to a powder keg.

  Smiling back with saccharine sweetness, she said, ‘I’m sure it will,’ and, swinging her left hand, gave him a slap across the face that cracked like a pistol shot and jerked his head sideways.

  For an instant they both froze. Then as he lifted his hand she flinched away, wishing desperately that she’d controlled the flare of temper.

  Seeing that involuntary movement, he said quickly, reassuringly, ‘It’s all right.’ Then, gingerly feeling his cheek, ‘I’m only assessing the damage.’

  Shaken to the core, because she was anything but a violent person, she said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘I asked for it,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘It just came as something of a surprise…’

  Perhaps he’d presumed she wouldn’t have the nerve, Loris thought as she pulled her blouse together and began to fasten the buttons with unsteady fingers.

  As though he’d walked into her mind and read her thoughts, with wry self-mockery he explained, ‘If you’d used your right hand I would have felt the muscles tense and seen it coming. I just hadn’t allowed for the fact that you might be ambidextrous.’

  His attitude was amused, in no way menacing, and she started to breathe more freely. Though her body still clamoured for his touch, the moment of danger seemed to have passed.

  She had won.

  Tucking her blouse back into her skirt, she said as lightly as possible, ‘Well, now you know I’m not a woman to be trifled with, perhaps you’ll allow me to get my coat and leave.’

  Smiling grimly, he said, ‘My dear Loris, you’ve only won a preliminary skirmish, not the war.’

  Before she could react to the threat in his voice, she found herself lying flat on her back on the sheepskin rug.

  He had gone down with her, his arms breaking her fall. Even so, for a second or two she was shocked into stillness. Then she began to struggle furiously.

  Gently, he pinned her arms above her head with one hand and used the weight of his body to hold her there.

  She continued to writhe and struggle futilely, until, realising that he’d spoken the truth when he’d said, ‘There’s nothing that inflames a man’s passion more than a struggle’ she abruptly froze.

  With a crooked smile, he said, ‘Yes,’ and watched as she blushed hotly. ‘But if, in the next five minutes, I can’t make you admit you want me, then I promise I won’t touch you.’

  His free hand cupping her chin, so she couldn’t turn her face away, he bent his head and kissed her lightly.

  She kept her teeth clenched, and after a second or two his lips began to wander over her cheeks, her temples, her closed eyelids, bestowing soft, butterfly kisses.

  When they returned to resume their teasing, she was forced to redouble her efforts to keep her mouth closed against him.

  If his kisses had been hard and grinding she would have found it easier to fight, but these coaxing, beguiling little caresses that promised such delight made her want to open her mouth to him.

  She shuddered as his tongue-tip traced the outline of her lips and slipped between them to tease the sensitive inner skin, but somehow she held on.

  Slowly and carefully, for the second time that night, he undid the buttons of her blouse, and opening it, nuzzled his face against the swell of her breasts.

  ‘Don’t, please don’t…’ The words ended in a gasp, as through the thin scrap of ivory satin she felt the damp warmth of his breath.

  A moment later he had released the front fastening of her bra and pushed aside the cups, giving him free access to her beautifully shaped breasts and dusky pink nipples.

  As he teased them with mouth and fingers, causing needle-sharp sensations, she moaned a little, the exquisite pleasure almost too much to bear.

  While his mouth continued its torment, his hand moved down to slip off her shoes, before returning to travel up over her nylon-clad calf and knee to find the band of bare skin above the lacy top of her stocking. It paused there for an instant before moving further to discover the dainty satin briefs.

  As she held her breath, his fingertips followed the high-cut leg of her briefs up to her hip and back again. There they paused to softly stroke the silky skin of her inner thigh.

  Her whole body was on fire now, alive with wanting. Nothing else existed but this man and
what he was doing to her. There was no past, no future, only the here and now, and an overwhelming need.

  But, instead of going on to fulfil that need, the hand was withdrawn.

  Suddenly she found she was free, and Jonathan was standing looking down at her. As she lifted a dazed face he took both her hands and helped her to her feet.

  Her eyes wide and unfocused, she staggered a little. Standing aloof, he caught her shoulders and steadied her.

  ‘Jonathan, I…’ Swaying towards him, she put her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his in a wordless plea.

  Refusing to hold her, he insisted, ‘I’d like to hear you say it.’

  Thickly, she said, ‘I want you to make love to me.’

  ‘Well, first we’ll have this off.’ He removed the engagement ring she was wearing and tossed it carelessly onto the wide mantelshelf.

  Then, refusing to hurry, making her wait, he began to undress her. When her skirt, blouse, half-slip and bra were in a pile on the floor, and she was standing in her stockings and briefs, he slipped his hands inside her briefs to cup her buttocks, before bending his head to tease her eager nipples with his tongue once more.

  ‘Please…’ she whispered, in an agony of suspense.

  Straightening, he slipped off his shoes and socks, pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside, before taking her hands and guiding them to the belt on his trousers.

  She had never undressed a man before and, eagerness making her clumsy, she had a struggle to undo the buckle. When it was finally unfastened, she fumbled with shaking fingers to unclip the waist.

  Taking pity on her, he did the rest for her, stepping out of the trousers and sliding his dark silk shorts over lean hips.

  With shoulders much broader than she’d first imagined, his body was graceful and symmetrical. He carried not an ounce of spare flesh and had the toned fitness of an athlete, the muscles rippling beneath skin that was smooth and tanned and healthy.

  As she stared at him, her throat dry, he ordered softly, ‘Let me look at you.’

  Obediently she pushed the briefs down and stepped out of them, then, one hand on his shoulder to steady herself, stripped off first one stocking and then the other.