by Anne Mather
‘Oh, Ben …’ Rachel gazed at him achingly. ‘Can’t you guess why I went to the hotel? Can’t you see what I’m trying to convey?’
‘Was this before or after Barrass threw you out?’ he demanded savagely, and with a little cry of horror Rachel snatched her hand from his grasp.
‘You’d better leave,’ she choked, getting up from the couch and stumbling across the room. ‘Go on. Get out! I never want to see you again!’
He caught her before she reached the door, his hands hard and unyielding on her upper arms as he hauled her back against him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he muttered burying his face in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder, pressing her so close to him she could feel he was trembling, too. ‘It’s only because I love you so much,’ he added brokenly. ‘And I’ve been hurt so often, I couldn’t help hurting you, too.’
Rachel stood there, feeling his lips against her neck, feeling the warmth of his hands gripping her arms, and the heat of his body at her back, and knew she couldn’t fight her feelings any longer. This was her husband, her destiny; the only man she had ever loved.
And so she let herself lean into him, let the sensual warmth of his nearness surround her. His body was so lean and hard, so familiar. She wanted to be closer to him. She wanted to satisfy the needs he could so effortlessly inspire.
His hands slid round her waist, brushing her flat stomach before finding the hem of the old shirt, and sliding up to her bare midriff. His thumbs stroked the undersides of her breasts, causing her nipples to strain helplessly against the cloth. Then, as if sensing her urgency, he took her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently, before massaging the aching peaks against his palms.
She let out a sound then, a cry, that caught in her throat, and betrayed its vulnerability. Waves of heat, of fire, of need, were sweeping over her. She was drowning in their hunger, she was aching with their sweetness.
‘Si—Simon didn’t—throw me out,’ she got out tremulously as Ben’s tongue made a sensuous exploration of her ear, and she felt him give a sigh.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I don’t care why you tried to see me, so long as you did.’ He turned her in his arms, looking down possessively as his fingers made short work of her shirt buttons. ‘Oh, Rachel—whatever you do, don’t send me away again. I don’t think I could stand it.’
‘Nor could I,’ she admitted, her hands cupping his face, stroking his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his beard against her palms. ‘But let me tell you what happened. I want you to know why I went to the hotel.’
‘All right.’
With an obvious effort Ben contained his impatience, fastening at least two of her buttons again before taking her hand and drawing her back to the sofa. This time, he sat down first and pulled her on to his lap. But she could feel the swollen hardness of him, pressing against her bottom, and it was incredibly difficult to concentrate on other things when she so badly wanted him there, inside her.
‘Go on,’ he said, nuzzling her neck, and although she lifted her shoulder to facilitate his efforts she forced herself to speak.
‘I—I’d broken up with Simon before we went to Crag’s Leap that morning,’ she confessed, thereby focusing his attention. ‘We had a row, the night after—after you’d taken me to Watersmeet. I—wouldn’t let him touch me. As you’d guessed, he never had.’
‘Why?’
Ben’s tone was almost matter-of-fact, but a glance at his face warned her he was not as indifferent as he seemed. His eyes were dark and glittering, and there was a tenseness about his expression that was as forbidding as it was exciting.
‘Because I didn’t love him,’ she answered softly. ‘Because, after you made love to me, I knew I could never do that with anyone else. I might want to hate you, and believe me, there have been times when I’ve come close, but I never did. I know it’s taken far too long, but I wanted you back in my life.’
Ben’s exhalation was slow and cautious. ‘Wanted?’ he echoed warily, and she hurried to reassure him.
‘Want,’ she amended urgently. ‘I want you back in my life. If—if you’ll forgive me. For all the pain I’ve put us through.’
Ben smoothed a strand of her hair between his fingers. ‘What made you change your mind?’ he asked quietly, and she had the feeling that her answer now was more important than anything that had gone before.
‘Because I love you,’ she said simply. ‘Because sometimes it’s more important to trust your instincts than your reason. I realised I’d let my own jealousy blind me to the facts. It’s an awful thing, jealousy. It feeds on its own mistakes.’
‘Oh, Rachel …’
With a convulsive movement, his hand gripped her jaw, turning her face to his. Then, with infinite tenderness, he brought her mouth to his, kissing her so sweetly, it was like a benediction.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, feeling the tears on her cheeks and, feeling them, too, he used his tongue to lick them away.
‘All I’m sorry about is that it’s taken you so long to come to your senses,’ he confessed huskily. ‘You’re my only reason for living, Rachel. You—and Daisy. You’re my life.’
Some time later, Rachel stirred amid the tumbled covers of her bed. She didn’t quite remember how she came to be up there, except that Ben had been kissing her, and she seemed to recall him picking her up and carrying her upstairs …
And yes, she thought languorously, she remembered what had happened after that very well. Remembered his concern that he shouldn’t hurt her, and her eagerness to assure him that he wouldn’t. Remembered his undressing her, and caressing her, and how grateful she had been that her clothes had peeled off so easily, and then driving her half crazy with his hands and lips and tongue.
A wave of remembered bliss swept over her as she also remembered undressing him. Some things were never forgotten, and only her trembling fingers had turned a drama into a crisis. She smiled.
But then, he had made love to her—urgently, mindlessly at first, and then unhurriedly, leisurely, sharing the pleasure with her, teaching her again how magical it could be. Their lovemaking had been many things: wild, and tender; studied, and instinctive; a sensual supplication of the body, and a glorious celebration of the senses.
She stretched, and as she did so she became aware of the arm that was lying possessively across her breasts, and the hairy thigh wedged so confidingly between hers. Even in sleep, Ben’s instincts were to keep her close to him, and she turned her head on the pillow to find he was also awake.
And, curiously, she felt a momentary sense of embarrassment. It was so long since he had seen her like this, totally naked and open to his gaze. But when she groped for the sheet, his hand prevented her, and propping himself up on one elbow, he looked down at her with tender eyes.
‘Don’t,’ he said softly. ‘Let me look at you. You know you’re beautiful, don’t you? So soft, and pink, and delicious.’
‘And fat,’ said Rachel ruefully, but she made no further attempt to cover herself. When he looked at her like that, all her inhibitions slipped away, and she could almost believe it herself.
‘You’re not fat,’ he assured her, bending his head to take one dusky nipple in his mouth. His hands slid possessively over her stomach. ‘I wouldn’t have you any other way.’
Rachel trembled. ‘Would—would you have come back if I hadn’t had the fall?’ she ventured huskily, and Ben lifted his head to give her a retiring look.
‘Once I found out you weren’t going to marry Barrass, you mean?’ he asked drily. ‘What do you think?’
‘I hoped you would,’ she admitted, with a shy smile. Then, as his hand dipped erotically between her legs, she hurried on, before her emotions got the better of her. ‘Why—why did you take me to Watersmeet?’ His probing fingers caused her to catch her breath. ‘Did you think I’d remember the Armstrongs’ name?’
Ben sighed, but he allowed her a moment’s breathing space as he said, ‘Well, you did, didn’
t you? Isn’t that why you came to the hotel?’
‘No.’ Rachel was indignant now. ‘I told you. I came to the hotel because I believed you. I didn’t even think about the Armstrong thing, until I found Elena’s photograph a few days later.’
Ben frowned. ‘Her photograph? I didn’t know we had a photograph of her.’
‘Well, we did,’ said Rachel firmly, loving the way he said ‘we’ so naturally. ‘She sent us one, when she answered our advertisement. Don’t you remember? She was standing outside the house.’
‘What house? Oh—you mean Watersmeet.’
‘Yes.’
‘God.’ Ben shook his head. ‘I’d forgotten. And that’s when you remembered? Well, well. Did it make a difference?’
‘Only to me,’ said Rachel ruefully, stroking her hand along his cheek. ‘I was sure you’d never forgive me. But that was why you took me to the house, wasn’t it?’
‘Well, I had intended to say a lot more that evening,’ he conceded. ‘But then I told you that. I didn’t dream we might get any further. I’d forgotten what a sexy creature you are.’
‘Me?’ Rachel laughed, but it was a soft contented sound. ‘It’s not the adjective that instantly springs to my mind.’
‘Well, it does to mine,’ Ben assured her thickly. ‘Now stop talking. We’ve got better things to do.’
Rachel couldn’t help it. A helpless wave of desire was sweeping over her again, and when he moved to lie between her legs her arms slid eagerly about his neck. Need, hot and passionate, was pulsing through her body, and she wound her legs about him as her senses took control.
It was as the heady after-shocks were dying away again that she thought of Daisy. ‘What time is it?’ she exclaimed, realising they must have been here for a couple of hours or more, and Ben obediently examined his watch.
‘It’s nearly half-past six, and yes, Karen will be bringing Daisy back fairly shortly. But don’t worry, she has a key. I gave her one, in case I had to take you to a doctor.’
Rachel gasped. ‘You mean, she could come in, and——’
‘Well, we are married,’ Ben reminded her drily. ‘And before you ask, I had a couple of duplicate keys made while your mother was staying here.’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Her suggestion, I suppose.’
‘As a matter of fact, it was.’
‘Oh, Ben!’ She wound her arms around his neck. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘Take me back, I hope,’ said Ben modestly. ‘I haven’t written a word since you told me you wanted a divorce. And as I was serious about buying a larger house in the district, I think you should help me to get over this writer’s block!’
Auckland Harbour was actually two harbours: the Waitemata, and the Manukua. Dominating Waitemata harbour was a long island, called Rangitoto, and Ralph had told Rachel that no matter which angle you viewed it from it always looked the same.
The city itself, like Rome, was built on seven hills, although in Auckland’s case they were actually seven or more extinct volcanoes. And, as New Zealand’s largest city, it was also very cosmopolitan, enjoying its reputation as one of the cultural capitals of the Southern Hemisphere.
Rachel had been enchanted with it; enchanted, too, by her new stepfather and his generosity. She and Ben and Daisy had been made to feel very much at home and even baby Jaime’s crying hadn’t fazed his step-grandfather a bit.
Jaime’s birth had been, to Rachel, one of the most magical events in a magical year. Contrary to those other occasions, when she had worried herself sick about having another baby, this time she had scarcely known she was pregnant at all until she felt their son move inside her. It had been an easy pregnancy, an easy birth; but it had delayed their visit to see Rachel’s mother and brother in New Zealand. Now, with Jaime almost three months old, and a new book for Ben to promote in the bookshops, it seemed an ideal time for them to combine business with pleasure. And it had been mostly pleasure, Rachel thought, as she watched her husband get out of bed one cool April morning, and draw back the curtains. Pleasure—and an aching sense of immutability; a feeling of permanence that nothing could ever mar.
The view from their bedroom windows was quite spectacular, though Ben, shivering a little, came eagerly back to bed. But the fact that Ralph’s house was built into the hillside overlooking the harbour meant every room had its own charm, and there was no doubt they’d miss it when they got back to London.
They were going home in two days, back to London first, then to the house Ben had bought in Wiltshire. They still owned the house in Upper Morton but they’d rented it to Cyril, since the fire department had insisted he couldn’t live on the shop premises any longer. No one had ever found out who reported the old antiques dealer to the authorities. But Mr O’Shea had a wicked grin whenever the subject was mentioned.
‘Will you be sorry to go back to England?’ Ben asked now, warming his cold toes on her calves, and she shook her head tolerantly.
‘Going home?’ she asked, making the distinction. ‘No, I won’t be sorry to go home. I’ll miss Mum and Ralph, of course, and David and his family, but they’ll be coming over to visit later in the year. And I know Karen is dying to see the baby again. It’s time Daisy went back to her lessons, too.’ She smiled. ‘I know she can’t wait to tell her friends all about her new baby brother. And she’ll be starting at her new school in the autumn.’
Daisy had been very pragmatic about the new arrival. She had treated the baby with an air of pride, mixed with a definite flavour of conceit. She considered she had played no small part in bringing her mother and father back together, and she maintained she’d known all along that it was bound to happen.
Rachel wished she had been so certain, but she let her daughter enjoy her moment of glory. It didn’t matter how she and Ben had breached the gulf that had divided them. The important thing was that they had, and she’d never been as happy in her life.
‘Mmm,’ Ben murmured now, evidently pleased with her response. ‘And what about you? Will you be eager to start work again, now that Jaime’s old enough to be left with a nursemaid?’
Rachel pulled a wry face. ‘No,’ she replied carefully, knowing he still found talking about Elena’s intrusion into their lives painful. She’d told him what Simon had said about the girl and Harry Armstrong, and sometimes, she knew, Ben felt a little bitter at all the time they’d wasted. But only sometimes. Those times were getting less and less frequent. Nevertheless, she had no intention of doing anything that might hurt him ever again, and looking after Jaime was still very much a full-time affair.
‘I wouldn’t mind, you know,’ he said softly, as if he had read her mind, and she guessed how much it had cost him to say that.
Turning to him, she wrapped her arms around him. ‘I would,’ she assured him firmly. ‘At least for the immediate future. Besides, we used to say we wanted four children when Daisy was a baby. Have we abandoned that ambition? Or do you need some time to think about it?’
Ben chuckled. He didn’t.
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IMPRINT: Sexy
ISBN: 9781488743269
TITLE: BRITTLE BONDAGE
First Australian Publication 2014
Copyright © 2014 Anne Mather
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, witho
ut the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Mills & Boon®, Level 4, 132 Arthur Street, North Sydney, N.S.W., Australia 2060.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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