Carole Mortimer - The Flame of Desire

by Carole Mortimer

  That was what she had thought. Luke would have convicted her on such flimsy evidence as an omission on the part of nature and perhaps one misdemeanor in her distant past. The thought made her heart heavy.

  "Drink your coffee, Sophie," he encouraged; "And then I will take you sightseeing."

  She automatically did as he said, knowing that she was here now only because she had never been tempted to give herself to another man in the past. It wasn't a very comforting thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEY SPENT TEN IDYLLIC DAYS AND NIGHTS in Paris, Luke deciding to stay on an extra couple of days at the last minute. Sophie had found it amazing at the time that the hotel management had somehow managed to accommodate them on short notice when they were turning other people away. Luke's powerful influence, no doubt.

  The honeymoon had been everything any young woman could wish for, although she really couldn't say she had seen much of Paris itself. It had only taken a word or look from either of them to spark, which ever seemed to be far away, for them to be back in bed together, their bodies entwined.

  The flight back to England had been short and uneventful, but not filled with the cold reserve Luke had treated her to on the flight out. They had talked together, laughed together, and Sophie couldn't help wondering if she was being silly to feel apprehensive about their return to everyday life. After all, all honeymoon couples had to face the same upheaval, the wondering if the honeymoon was indeed over. And she did have one advantage over a lot of women. Luke worked at home, making it possible for her to see him at any time.

  She looked up now as he walked unannounced into the bathroom as she took a shower to freshen up after the flight. Her initial shyness with him was long forgotten as a result of their continual lovemaking. She smiled at him through the spray from the shower, aware that he was say something to her, but unable to hear him above the noise of the falling water. She shook her head, shrugging her puzzlement.

  She gasped as he stepped fully clothed into the shower beside her, her senses spinning as he took the soap from her unresisting fingers and began to soap her body all over. "You're mad, Luke," she laughed huskily. "Your clothes, they're ruined!" The white shirt and trousers were in fact clinging to him like a second skin, his body seducing her through the wet material.

  He discarded the soap, backing her up against the wall, her body molded to his. "You could not hear what I was saying."

  Sophie spluttered with laughter. "But I would have been out of here in a moment."

  Luke switched off the running water, the urgency of his body communicating itself to her as they clung together. "It would not have been soon enough for me." He kissed her wet lips, licking the droplets of water from her face. "I want you now," he groaned, lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom they were to share.

  "But my parents, Luke," she offered a token resistance as he lowered her onto the bed. "They're expecting us for tea."

  He shrugged, stripping off his wet clothes. "So we will arrive for dinner instead. I have not made love ,to you for over five hours."

  "Oh, Luke," she laughed, raising her arms to him invitingly as he stood before her naked.

  Hours later she stirred against him, not wanting to remind him of their promise to visit her parents, but knowing they couldn't leave it any later.

  Luke put a restraining hand on her thigh as she made a move to swing her legs to the floor. "Where are you going?"

  "We must go now, Luke."

  "Not yet." He pulled her back into his arms, kissing her druggingly. "We do not have to leave yet," he moaned ! softly against her throat.

  She fought for some control over her senses, struggling to hold back the rising of her own desire. "We must, Luke," she insisted. "Don't you ever tire of making love tome?"

  "No." His hand rested possessively on her breast.

  "But we seem to have done nothing else since we married."

  His mouth tightened into a grim line, his eyes suddenly cold. He stood up. "You are bored with my lovemaking," he said abruptly.

  "No! I—"

  "Do not make matters any worse," he snapped. "I had forgotten that for the 'English the end of the honeymoon means the end of the more enjoyable part of physical love, that we must become more conventional, save our desire for the night hours."

  "Please, I didn't mean—"

  He put up a hand to silence her. "I will endeavor to show more control in future. Get dressed now and we will be on our way.”

  She had angered him, she knew that, and he wouldn't give her a chance to explain herself. Far from being bored with his lovemaking she felt it was the only thing holding them together. If he took that away from her she would have nothing of him at all.

  It was indeed dinnertime when they reached her parents' house. Martin showed them into the lounge where her father and Rosemary were waiting for them.

  She ran into her father's arms, suddenly his little girl again. "I've missed you," she said through a mist of tears.

  Rosemary received her kiss on the cheek coolly. "You aren't suppose to miss your father on your honeymoon," she said dryly.

  Sophie blushed at the rebuke, conscious of the censure in Luke's eyes, too. She hadn't meant that remark the way it sounded, hadn't in fact been conscious of missing her father until this moment. "I didn't mean—"

  "She did not mean she had missed him that much," Luke cut in tauntingly. "I did not give her the time for that."

  "Yes, well…" Her father cleared his throat noisily. "We expected you earlier than this."

  Luke's deep brown eyes mocked her flushed face. "Sophie was a little tired after our journey. I thought it better for her to… rest."

  A dark blush appeared in her father's cheeks as he accurately read Luke's implication. "I, er, Rosemary tells me that there could be a…a reason for Sophie to rest right now."

  Sophie was horrified. "No! That isn't—"

  "It is a possibility," Luke interrupted calmly.

  She gave him a sharp look. "But we—"

  "Especially now," he continued smoothly.

  She paled. She supposed it was a possibility, more than a possibility. A family had never been discussed by them, and so consequently they had taken no precaution not to have one. How ironic if she should become pregnant now, how very ironic.

  "So you might be a grandfather," Rosemary taunted her husband.

  "It would also make you a grandmother," Sophie put in sweetly.

  Rosemary looked at her with irritation. "Of course it wouldn't. A step grandmother perhaps——"

  "No child could come out with a mouthful like that," Luke said with humor.

  "I'm glad you find the prospect of fatherhood so amusing," Rosemary snapped. "It would certainly make a difference to your life-style."

  He looked unperturbed by her outburst. "Marriage has already done that."

  "I, er, I suggest we all go in to dinner," Simon put in mildly.

  Sophie was very quiet through dinner. Rosemary and Luke seeming to have got over their brief antagonism, and her stepmother dazzled the two men with her charm and sparkling wit.

  There was a certain coolness between herself and Luke as they prepared for bed. She watched him in the mirror as she brushed her long golden hair, watched him and realized this was the longest period since their first night of marriage that Luke hadn't made love to her. And already she felt desolate.

  Her desolation increased as Luke turned over on his side once they were in the huge double bed together, his back turned firmly against her, the room in darkness. "Luke?" she queried when she could stand the silence no longer.

  "Luke, are you asleep?"

  "Not yet," came his muffled reply.

  "Are you going to sleep?"

  He sighed. "That is usually the idea when one goes to bed."

  "But I— Don't you want me?" She could make out his bare back in the darkness, longing for the closeness of him, the male dominance of him.

  "I thought you were tire
d."

  She sniffed miserably. "I am, I suppose."

  Still he didn't move. "You do not sound very sure."

  "I'm not, I— Why are you doing this?" She sat" up in the bed, switching on her side lamp. "Because of that stupid argument we had this afternoon?" she demanded. "But you must know I didn't mean it that way."

  He turned to face her. "And this?" He indicated the chiffon nightgown she wore. "Was this not meant as a'. deterrent?"

  She gave a nervous laugh. "Don't be silly."

  "You have not worn such a garment since our wedding night."

  "I know. But it just seemed—you haven't been very approachable tonight."

  "So you chose to wear that." His disgust was obvious.

  "Are you still angry with me?" There was a note of pleading in her voice.

  "I was not angry, merely respecting your wishes. Oh, go to sleep, Sophie." He turned on his side again. "I would welcome a good night's sleep even if you would not.''

  That put her firmly in her place. She turned slowly and switched off the light. She had made the first move and Luke had made it obvious he didn't want her. She wouldn't try again.

  Sleep was a long time coming to her, her misery unshakable. Sophie knew Luke had fallen asleep quickly by the slow, even tone of his breathing, making her resentment grow. She didn't think she could stand this marriage if Luke's physical warmth was to be denied her as well as everything else. It was the only thing that made this situation bearable.

  She awoke to feel hands running caressingly over her body, hands she recognized only too well. She turned into Luke's arms, raising her face automatically for his kiss. "Mm." She snuggled into him. "I thought you didn't want me tonight."

  "I was wrong," he growled. "Perhaps in a few weeks' time I will be able to sleep meekly at your side, but not yet, not yet!” he groaned, disposing of her nightgown by ripping it from her body. "And there will be no more of those," he said at Her gasp of dismay. "I will keep you warm or you will remain cold.''

  "Yes, Luke," she smiled up at him dreamily.

  "Do not be meek with me, Sophie, not tonight," he said harshly. "That is not what I want from you."

  There was nothing meek about their lovemaking that night, hurting and loving each other until they fell into a .deep, exhausted sleep.

  She woke to find herself alone in the huge bed, only the tingling of her body and the discarded nightdress left to -show her it hadn't all been a dream. She could hear no sound in the apartment but her own breathing. A hurried search of the lounge and kitchen showed her that Luke had gone out.

  There was no note, nothing, and all the joy went out of her. She didn't mean anything to Luke—her body did, but die as a person didn't. All that was left to her was to get on with trying to live the rest of her life, the life she would lead with Luke as his bedmate and later the mother of his children.

  The refrigerator needed stocking up if she were to take on the cooking of their meals, and the apartment needed cleaning and a few homey touches added. She dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, sure that Luke would have returned by the time she got back with the food.

  She quite enjoyed her shopping spree, her first real task as a housewife, although she had to get a taxi back to the apartment as the four bags of food were too much for her to carry alone. Luke would be wanting his lunch and she-was so looking forward to cooking him the steak she had bought. It wasn't exactly proof of her culinary expertise, but at least it should prove edible. After all, she had never told him she could cook.

  She had difficulty undoing the kitchen door, her face flushed from her exertions. She could hear the murmur of voices from the lounge and wondered who their visitor was. Perhaps Luke would like her to take some coffee in.

  She opened the kitchen door to find Luke's dark head bent over a golden female one, their murmured conversation making it impossible for them to hear her entrance. She didn't need to be told who the female was—Rosemary! She hadn't even waited a week before coming back into his life.

  She turned to leave, but their conversation held her immovable. "It was very clever of you, Luke," Rosemary purred; "I don't know how you knew."

  "It was not clever, Rosemary," he replied softly. "And I am glad that one member of this family knows why I married. Sophie."

  "But how long will your marriage last under such circumstances?"

  "I have no idea. Until she realizes the reason, I should think. I do not think she will appreciate my motives."

  But she already knew his motives, and hated it. And fool that she was, she was still with him and couldn't leave him if she tried.

  "She's a silly little fool," Rosemary said suddenly angry.

  "Not a fool, just very young. She does not even begin to realize how I feel about anything.''

  He was wrong, so very wrong. She knew exactly how he felt about her stepmother. God, she was torturing herself listening to this! She had to get out of here.

  "Well, I'm glad you married her. I didn't think I would be, but now everything is working out perfectly."

  "I am glad. And I do not find my lot too hard to bear," Luke said dryly. '

  Rosemary laughed. "I'm sure you don't."

  Sophie had heard enough, closing the door quietly to lean back against it for support. Oh, God, back from her honeymoon one day and already Luke was seeing Rosemary. They had probably been out together this morning.

  She awkwardly collected up the shopping bags and left the apartment before her presence was discovered. They must never know she had overheard them—that would be too humiliating.

  She escaped to the peace of one of the parks, watching the mothers walking their babies in their prams, the ducks paddling unconcernedly in the lake. Everyone seemed so happy in the middle of her misery. But what could she do? She had known of the affair before her marriage, had known of it and hoped that now that she was Luke's wife it would stop. But did it really make any difference, did it stop her loving him and wanting to be with him? If she were truthful, the answer was no.

  She fed the ducks, unconscious of the amount of bread she had given them until she realized half the loaf had disappeared down their eager beaks. It must be getting fate—she would have to return soon.

  This time she made a great deal of noise when entering the apartment, not wanting to interrupt anything more intimate than their private conversation. She was unpacking the shopping when Luke came into the kitchen, looking up briefly to give him a strained smile.

  "Where have you been?" he demanded without any preliminaries.

  She gave the shopping a wry glance. "Isn't it obvious?"

  "You have been gone for hours," he accused.

  "A couple maybe," she acknowledged. She shrugged, "We needed food, so I went shopping.''

  "Why did you not tell me? I could have helped you."

  "You weren't around to tell," she said sharply, more sharply than she had intended.

  "I was in my studio."

  Her hand hesitated on the refrigerator door. "You were?" That was the one place she hadn't thought to look, not expecting him to be working.

  "Of course. You did not think I had gone out and left you alone?"

  "Well, I—"

  He sighed. "You did think that. I heard you moving around in the bedroom and then you had gone." He picked, up the half a loaf that remained. "Have you already eaten?"

  She laughed guiltily. "I fed the ducks."

  He raised dark eyebrows. "I am glad someone has eaten."

  "Are you hungry?"

  "I seem to remember being asked that question once before by you. My answer is the same."

  She backed away from the look in his eyes. "Not now, Luke," she said breathlessly. "I really am hungry. It's hours since we last ate. You must be hungry, too. I didn't realize ,it was so late, almost one-thirty. We really should—"

  "Stop making excuses, Sophie. I get the message!” He slammed out of the room.

  Oh, God, she had done it again. She had been right to feel apprehensive ab
out their return yesterday—the honeymoon was indeed over.

  Lunch was a strained affair, as were most of the meals they shared together over the next few days. The nights were even worse. Luke had meant it when he said she would remain cold if he didn't warm her—and he certainly didn't do that. He didn't touch her.

  She telephoned her father on Thursday morning, inviting him to have lunch with her in town. He agreed readily, much to her relief. Luke was out for the day, visiting a client, he had said, and so she would have the pleasure of seeing her father alone. It would be just the two of them again.

  Her father was already seated at their table when she arrived, his face lighting up with pleasure. "Hello, poppet." He saw her seated opposite him.

  His dear familiar face made her want to cry, although that really wouldn't do. She hadn't invited him here to burden him with her problems; she had just wanted to be with someone who loved her. "You're looking well, daddy."

  "Thank you, although the same can't be said for you. “You look drained."

  She grinned at his honesty. "Thank you, daddy!"

  "Well, you do. I know, I know, I shouldn't have actually said it. Married life isn't easy, is it?"

  Not her married life, anyway.. She looked at him anxiously, "Everything is all right between you and Rosemary?"

  "Couldn't be better. Of course, she wasn't very happy about being left behind today." He patted her hand. "But I wanted to see my little girl alone, satisfy myself that you're really happy with Luke.''

  Sophie frowned. "Mommy is at home?''

  He nodded. "It's been nice having her with me for a change."

  "But I—I thought she was back in London."

  Her father accepted his glass of whiskey from the waiter, watching her as she sipped her Martini and lemonade. "She came up to town a couple of days ago to do some shopping, but that's all. Shall we order?" he indicated the menu.

  Sophie made her choice in a dream. So Luke wasn't seeing Rosemary today. Another woman perhaps? Or could he really have been telling the truth when he said he was visiting a client?

  She felt sure the meal was excellent, her steak in the mushroom sauce one of the tenderest she had ever had, but it might all have been rubber for all the ease with which she ate it.