Carole Mortimer - The Flame of Desire

by Carole Mortimer

  "Luke!" Her face" was scarlet with embarrassment.

  He put down his paint brush, his mouth quirking with amusement. "Why should I lie? You have been destined for my bed since we first met."

  "Since I went over the handlebars of my bicycle with such elegance?'' she teased with brittle humor.

  He nodded. "Since then. I tried very hard to get you to give me your address, but you proved obstinate in not telling me."

  "That was because—"

  "Because you. knew we would meet later, because you intended making a fool of me."

  She looked at him beneath lowered lashes. "And did I?"

  "I do not think so." He grinned. "Am I .not getting what I wanted all along?"

  She raised her eyebrows. "To marry me?"

  He smiled, suddenly looking much younger and less forbidding. "You in my bed," he corrected, coming over to sofa where she sat. He cupped her chin, forcing her to into his velvet-brown eyes, "I will be a very jealous lover," he warned her softly. "But I will be a generous "one."

  "I don't want your money," she protested.

  His long sensitive fingers played with her parted lips. "I was not talking about money," he said huskily.

  "Oh." She couldn't meet the look in his eyes.

  Luke laughed throatily. "It is good to see you can still blush."

  "And why shouldn't I?" she challenged crossly. "I'm not the one with experience."

  He frowned, suddenly serious. "Does it really bother you that much that there have been other women?"

  "Yes! No! I don't know. I—men are usually the experienced ones, aren't they?"

  "Usually," he agreed. "And I really have no way of erasing my past. But I want you to know that not one of those women meant more to me than a brief affair. I can say no more."

  "How do I know I'll mean any more?"

  "You cannot know," he answered truthfully. "But I have never married before, so that should tell you something."

  "It tells me you must want me pretty badly," she said softly.

  "Insanely so," Luke acknowledged huskily. "I have since the moment I saw your hair like sunlight and your eyes like violets. You have the power to drive a man wild with wanting you, and you will be mine."

  "Yours " She felt mesmerized by the seduction in his voice.

  "Yes, mine." His head bent and he claimed her mouth in a searching kiss, gently prizing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue.

  She welcomed the throbbing urgency of his body against hers, her hands unbuttoning his shirt to touch the smooth: skin beneath. His mouth moved the long length of her throat, his warm breath caressing her skin.

  Luke leaned back to look at her, his hands moving to the buttons on her blouse, releasing, each one with slow deliberation. He watched every expression on her face, lightly touching the tip of her hardened nipple as she gasped her pleasure.

  Sophie shuddered, wanting to break away but unable to. She watched his dark head as his mouth closed around her breast, his tongue arousing her to further delight.

  "Oh, Sophie," he groaned. "This is not the right time,1 or place for this."

  She could feel him fighting to regain control, feel the tautness of his thighs, the raggedness of his breathing, and although he protested, he made no effort to stop kissing her. "Luke, you…you will be patient with me when we're—when we're married?" she asked breathlessly.

  He was still touching her breasts, enjoying her pleasure as much as his own. “Patient with you?" he asked vaguely.

  She licked her lips. "With my inexperience."

  He drew a deep shuddering breath, moving back to rebutton her blouse for her. "I will try. But you tempt me until I can think of nothing but you beneath me as I make love to you. I am going to be a very demanding husband."

  She didn't think she was going to mind that. Right now she didn't think she was going to mind that at all.

  Luke stood up, buttoning his own shirt with shaking fingers. "I think you should go now, Sophie. With you my control does not seem to last very long."

  She swung her legs to the floor, standing up unsteadily.

  "But the portrait …."

  He smiled. "I have a feeling it will not be completed until we have been married for some time, until I can look at you and not want to make love to you."

  She smoothed her skirt down to cover her embarrassment, sure that no Englishman would talk so bluntly about desire and lovemaking. But then she wasn't marrying an Ashman. "You managed to almost finish the other ' she reminded him.

  His brown eyes teased her. "I was driven on to do that one to the exclusion of all else. But I will not need to look at it much longer, as soon I will have the real thing."

  To think of Luke looking at that painting whenever he was alone, desiring her, made her cheeks burn. "How soon, Luke?"

  "Very soon if I have my way, cara. Please go now. You understand? " he asked gently.

  She understood, leaving the room as he requested. Not that she thought she would have had the same resolve if they had been alone at his apartment. Everyone believed them to be lovers and so she saw no harm in it becoming a reality, would welcome it even. Anything to stop this constant letdown feeling when their lovemaking wasn't consummated.

  Her stepmother was alone in the lounge when Sophie got downstairs, making her wish she had checked before entering. Rosemary's barbs were the last thing she needed right now, with her lips and body still tingling from Luke's caresses.

  "My God, you look a mess," was her stepmother's opening comment. "I don't need to ask what you've been doing."

  Sophie moved to look out the window. "Where's daddy?"

  "In his study," her stepmother answered shortly. "I suppose you think you've been very clever, trapping a man like Luke into marriage."

  "I didn't."

  "Didn't you?" her voice rose shrilly, her blue eyes venomous. "Well, don't think a little thing like your marriage will put a stop to Luke and I meeting. What we have is very special, you see, so special that Luke wouldn't even discuss it with you. When he's become tired of you, our relationship will still be just as intense. He's had girls like you before. They mean nothing."

  Sophie was white. "You forget one thing. He's marrying me."

  Rosemary smiled. "Only to placate your father. Things could become very awkward for Luke if it was known he had an affair with you. Your father is an influential man. After all, I could hardly marry him myself, now, could I? No, I think it's much better this way—keep it in the family, so to speak."

  "You can't mean that.'' Sophie was incredulous.

  "You just wait and see. I'll still have Luke long after he's tired of your innocence and naivete."

  "I—I think I'll go to my room." She felt sick.

  "You do that," her stepmother said with a satisfied smile. "But remember one thing, Luke is mine—and he'll stay mine long after he's forgotten you."

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS THE SOCIETY WEDDING OF THE YEAR, everyone said, from the media to the two hundred selected guests. The announcement of the marriage between the daughter of Simon and Rosemary Bedford to the celebrated artist Luke Vittorio caused quite a stir.

  Sophie had been horrified at the amount of publicity they had attracted, and found herself followed by the press wherever she went. Luke seemed immune to their followers, taking it all in stride. But then he was used to living his life under the public eye, something she would have to accept as his wife.

  Because of Luke's insistence the wedding had taken place only six weeks after it had first been put to her father, the rush and bustle of the last few weeks made it almost impossible for them to spend any time alone. Consequently Sophie now felt herself married to a stranger, almost faltering as she had seen the look of arrogant possession on Luke's face as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm.

  The reception seemed no less frightening. The congratulations and kisses all received a plastic smile in return that seemed frozen on her lips. Luke's long fingers rested lightly on her e
lbow, although she had no doubt they would clamp on like steel tentacles if she attempted to move, from his side. They hadn't spoken to each other at all, her nervousness increasing as the time for them to leave came closer and closer.

  "I believe it is time you changed," Luke said to her. "We have to leave shortly."

  She had to stop herself from making a mad dash for the house, the reception being held in a marquee in the garden. "I—yes, I—I'll go now."

  Deep brown eyes looked down at her white frightened face. "Would you like me to come with you?"

  Her face colored scarlet. "No! No, I—I think I can manage."

  His firm mouth twisted into a smile. "I was not offering to help you change, merely undress.''

  She knew that, oh, yes, she knew that. But his desire frightened her, too, as everything about this marriage did. As from today she would be completely under Luke's dominance, a prisoner of her own desire for his body and the temptation of his mouth.

  "I won't be long." She moved quickly away from his side to go to her bedroom.

  Her two suitcases stood just inside the door ready for their departure, the rest of her things already moved into Luke's apartment in London. She slumped down on the bed, taking a last look around the room. She had slept here for the last time, as she and Luke would be given a room with a double bed when they visited.

  She looked up with a feeling of apprehension as her stepmother came into the room, beautifully turned out in a sapphire blue silk suit and matching Juliet cap. She looked young enough to be the bride herself, and Sophie had seen Luke watching her as she moved among the guests, his expression telling her nothing of his thoughts.

  "Why are you just sitting there?" Rosemary demanded, opening the wardrobe doors to take out the purple dress Sophie had chosen as her going-away attire. They were flying straight to Paris for the week, and so the dress had been chosen for traveling in for its comfort as well as for its attractiveness. "Shouldn't you be changing?"

  Sophie stood up, moving with dragging steps, unzipping the flowing white wedding gown and stepping out of it as if in a dream. She took off the long veil, releasing her hair from its confining curls to flow smoothly down her back.

  Her stepmother tutted impatiently. "Do hurry up, Sophie. Everyone is .waiting for you downstairs."

  Including Luke! Oh, God, she felt so nervous. He was her husband now; she was Sophie Vittorio, his wife.

  Rosemary looked at her closely. "You aren't going to be sick, are you?"

  She had hardly finished speaking before Sophie made a mad dash to the bathroom, the champagne and small amount of food she had attempted to force down her soon leaving her body with much more rapidity than she had eaten them with. She emerged from the bathroom pale-faced and drawn, the sickness still with her.

  "So you're pregnant after all,'' Rosemary said dryly.

  Sophie's eyes widened with shock. "I am not," she protested. "It was just too much champagne on an empty stomach."

  "No need to lie to me, Sophie. I know the truth, remember?"

  The truth as Luke had led them to believe! "I am not pregnant!"

  "I'm not stupid." Rosemary hung the White wedding' gown in the wardrobe. "I don't suppose you should really have worn this color—in the circumstances," she said thoughtfully.

  "There are no circumstances! And if all the girls who should wear white wore it, the color would go out of " fashion tomorrow.

  "Mm, that's true. Still, I must say you became pregnant pretty easily. Of course Luke's a virile man, but even so…"

  "I am not pregnant!" Sophie's words were forced out between gritted teeth as she strove to hold on to her temper. What was the use? Rosemary would never believe her. "Only time will tell," she amended.

  "It certainly will. Your father will be delighted—now that he's got over his initial surprise. Not that I blame you. I know how persuasive Luke can be."

  “I know,'' Sophie said through stiff lips.

  Rosemary gave a husky laugh. "No need to be jealous, Sophie. After all, he's your husband."

  “And what does that prove?''

  Her stepmother looked thoughtful. "You're right," she said finally. "It doesn't prove a thing."

  ''That's what I thought," Sophie turned on her heel.

  "Excuse me, I have to wash."

  "I'll wait for you and help you change."

  Sophie didn't protest, escaping to the privacy of the bathroom. She hadn't needed her stepmother to tell her that her marriage wasn't worth the paper it was written on, that the marriage vows meant nothing to Luke, even if he had spoken them beautifully. It had been difficult not to believe he meant every word, the seriousness and sincerity of his voice totally convincing. But she knew it was all an act, a lie.

  The smile was fixed back on her lips by the time she walked down the long staircase, bathed in the admiration of the guests. There was a deep approving look in the eyes of the bridegroom, but she couldn't be sure if that was for her or for her stepmother walking two steps behind her. She had a feeling it was the latter.

  Their goodbyes were full of laughter and teasing advice, the single hug from her father making a huge lump rise in her throat. They had said their goodbyes before the ceremony, but it was still a wrench, her final step from being a girl to a woman, no longer just her father's daughter, but another man's wife.

  Luke looked at her in the confines of the car. "Ready?"

  Would she ever be ready for the life she had allowed herself to be trapped into? She doubted it. "Ready," she nodded.

  Rosemary appeared at the open car window. "Be gentle with her, Luke," she advised.

  "I intend to be," he replied softly.

  "But especially gentle," she said with relish. "It's a. . dangerous time, you know."

  Luke frowned at her innuendos. "What is?"

  "Oh, dear, Sophie hasn't told you yet."

  "Told me what?"

  She smiled with satisfaction. "I'll leave it to your little bride to tell you. Have fun." She stepped back from the car, waving with the other guests.

  The car shot away so fast that Sophie was flung back against the headrest. "What did she mean?" Luke asked grimly.

  She turned slowly from waving to look apprehensively at his cold hard face. "I don't know," she lied miserably.

  His foot pressed firmly down on the accelerator. "Yes, you do. What was she talking about, Sophie? "

  "It's all your fault," she accused shakily. "You gave them the idea in the first place.''

  "Explain yourself," he snapped.

  She took a deep breath, her hands entwined nervously on her lap. "My stepmother has the mistaken idea that I'm expecting your baby," she told him.

  Luke gave her a hard, probing look, noting the vulnerability of her trembling mouth, the shadows in her eyes. "And why should she think that?"

  "Because you told them—"

  "But why does she think it is a fact?" he asked abruptly.

  "Because I—I was sick just now and I—I haven't—I—"

  "I see." Cold angry eyes raked over her slender curves. "And is it true?"

  "You know it isn't!" she gasped. "We haven't—"

  "The child does not have to be mine," he interrupted abruptly.

  Sophie gave him a horrified stare. "You can't be serious!"

  "I am very serious. If I find you have… The marriage will end immediately if I find it to be true," he said harshly.

  "But you know it isn't," she said desperately, tears swimming in her eyes.

  “The evidence would seem to show otherwise."

  "Evidence!" Anger entered her voice. "I'm not on trial, Luke. Just because I happen not to have—well, that doesn't mean anything other than that I've had a lot on my mind lately. It sometimes has that effect.''

  "I hope for your sake that that is the case. I would not like to think that your afternoon meeting with Sedgwick Jones came to any more than a tumble in the hay."

  "A tumble in the— You're disgusting!"

  "I am your husband,
" he stated, one of his hands moving out to clasp her chin in a cruel grasp. The expression in his eyes could only be called possessive. "You will do well to remember that it is I and I alone who has the right to claim your body."

  Sophie wrenched out of his grasp, uncaring of the pain it 'caused. "And when that happens you'll know once and for all that I'm not pregnant."

  "How will I know that?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" she snapped.

  He gave her another cold look. "We shall see."

  Sophie was treated to his icy politeness all the way to the airport, accepting the magazines he bought her as an indication that they were not to talk on the short flight, either. She was right—Luke sat back in his seat, his eyes closed.

  . Instead of reading the magazines as he had obviously intended her to do she looked at him, wishing she were in-deed off on the ecstatic honeymoon everyone believed them to be. She had seen the flight attendant give Luke covetous looks, her disappointment obvious as she saw the confetti in Sophie's hair.

  Sophie could understand the girl's interest in Luke—he did look rather magnificent today. He was dressed in a gray-colored suit, his linen immaculate. Of course he was very attractive, anyway, but today he looked even more so, very sexy, his. dark good looks magnetic.

  It was dinnertime when they arrived at their hotel, their rooms adjoining by the large bathroom they were to share. Sophie heaved a sigh of relief when she saw they had separate rooms. At least she would be able to change her clothing in privacy. It was strange just how shy she felt, a sense of the occasion always with her.

  "Your room is satisfactory?" Luke asked her once they were alone.

  Magnificent was more the word she would have used to describe it, the decor deliberately old-fashioned and gracious. "It's lovely, thank you."

  He nodded distantly as if he had never been in any doubt of her answer. "You wish dinner to be sent up here or shall we go down to the dining room?"

  "The dining room, I think," came her swift reply, choosing the lesser of two evils. She didn't want to be up here alone with him any sooner than she needed to be.