Lovestorm (Harlequin Treasury 1990's)

by Jennifer Taylor

  The soft touch of his fingers against her skin was starting to affect her, making her blood quicken in her veins, her pulse beat faster and faster as though in a race. There was danger in that touch, danger and a strange heady excitement which scared her. This was Jacob she was dealing with and she must never forget what he was like, how easily he would use any sign of weakness to his advantage.

  She drew her hand away from his, forcing herself not to betray any sign of the effect he had on her. ‘Whether you believe me or not is up to you.’ She affected a shrug. ‘Obviously there must have been some sort of misunderstanding and that’s why the messages were never passed on. I can only apologise for it.’

  His laughter grated, rubbing her already stretched nerves rawly sensitive. ‘Spoken like your mother’s daughter, Helen. She would have been proud of you, I’m sure, although I don’t know what she would feel about this marriage of ours.’

  ‘I imagine she would be perfectly happy once she understood the real reason for it!’ Helen couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice and she turned her head away at once, afraid of saying more than was wise. What Jacob had just told her shocked her because she’d had no idea at all about what had gone on. What sort of messages had he left for her? And why had Patricia Sinclair gone to such lengths to stop her receiving them?

  The puzzle kept her busy during the rest of the drive to the house. Helen shook herself out of her reverie, watching curiously as the car pulled up in front of a creamy pink wall behind which she could just make out the green-tiled roof of a long, low bungalow.

  Jacob got out of the car, paying the driver before helping the man unload their cases from the boot. With a wide smile and a friendly wave the man drove off, and Jacob picked up the bags, nodding to Helen to open the gate set into the wall while he carried them through into a garden which was a riot of colour. Helen paused to look round, her gaze lingering appreciatively on the brilliantly coloured flowers which spilled from huge terracotta pots, making a startling contrast to the pale pink walls of the house with its white-painted louvred shutters.

  ‘It’s lovely, Jacob,’ she said involuntarily. ‘I never imagined it would be like this.’

  ‘Why? What did you expect? Something ultra-modern in steel and glass, all rather flashy?’ He set the cases down as he closed the gate, his face set into hard lines, and Helen sighed.

  ‘No, I didn’t. You have far better taste than that. I just meant that I never expected so much colour. It comes as quite a shock after London’s drabness.’

  Jacob’s expression softened. ‘It’s one of the things I like best about this place; all year round there’s such richness of colour. I’ve never regretted my decision to buy the house even though the amount of time I can spend here is, by necessity, limited.’

  He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the white-painted door, pushing it wide so that Helen could enter the house. With the shutters drawn the interior was cool and shadowy, yet there was the fragrance of fresh flowers and polish, as though the house had recently been cleaned.

  Jacob carried the cases inside then set them down as he walked across the hall and pushed the shutters back to allow light to spill inside across the smooth polished wood floor. The entrance hall led directly into a huge lounge area and Helen walked into it, looking around curiously at the elegant yet comfortable furniture covered in creamy-toned fabric and piled with heaps of brilliantly coloured cushions. There were water-colours on the walls, scenes of Bahamian life mixed with several seascapes. She crossed the room to study one which caught her eye, admiring the expert brushwork, the delicate blending of tones.

  ‘Like it?’ Jacob walked over to join her, watching her quietly, yet Helen could sense a certain tenseness about him. She frowned slightly as she turned to look at the picture again, wondering what had caused it, then gasped when she suddenly noticed the signature at the bottom right hand corner of the painting. She turned back to him with shock glittering in her eyes.

  ‘You painted this?’

  ‘Mmm. I do quite a bit of painting when I’m here. I find it relaxing.’

  She had no idea why she should feel so shocked, but she was. Her eyes lingered for a moment more on the painting before she turned away from it almost abruptly, but suddenly Jacob was there in front of her, stopping her from moving away.

  ‘Something new you didn’t know about me, Helen? I told you you might be in for a few surprises.’

  His voice sounded even deeper than usual, soft and vibrant, and she shivered in an uncontrollable reaction to it. Just for a moment her eyes lifted to his and she went hot at the expression which showed so briefly in their depths before he gave a low, taunting laugh which broke the spell at once. ‘Are you still so confident that you won’t need to change your views of me, darling?’

  Helen drew in a shaky breath, fighting to control the pounding beat of her heart as she stared up into his mocking face. ‘It will take more than this to make me change my mind about you, Jacob! Now if you don’t mind I would like to get showered and changed.’ She gave him a challenging little smile. ‘I’m sure there will be plenty of time later for me to make suitably admiring remarks about your new-found talent.’

  If he was annoyed by her sarcasm he gave no sign. He merely stepped aside for her to pass him and smiled in a way which made her palm itch to come into contact with his mocking face. ‘Of course. You’re absolutely right, Helen. For the next couple of weeks we shall have all the time in the world to make fresh discoveries about each other. I can hardly wait.’

  Her face flamed at the deliberately taunting statement, but she faced him squarely. ‘And I think it’s time we got a few ground rules established.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I already know what they are.’ He picked up her case and crossed the hall, opening a door. Through it Helen could see that it was a bedroom, done in the same cool and airy style as the lounge area. In a fast sweep her eyes took stock of the elegant, expensive furnishings then came to a sudden halt on the huge double bed with its canopy of white broderie anglaise. Suddenly it felt as though some unseen hand had gripped her, stopping the air mid-way to her lungs, and she had to fight for breath before she could attempt to speak in a reedy little voice. ‘Look, Jacob, I...’

  ‘What, Helen? Want to make it clear that you have no intention of sharing a bedroom with me?’ He paused as he watched the hot colour flood her pale face, then turned to carry her case into the room and set it down on the bottom of the bed before glancing back at her with a sardonic lift of his brows. ‘I already anticipated that. This is your room. I shall be using the one across the hall. Now I shall leave you to get settled in.’

  He walked past her, disappearing through a door on the opposite side and closing it behind him with a soft finality which made her want to scream. She curbed the urge. Slowly she walked into the bedroom and looked round, studying the tasteful blend of furniture and fabrics while she gave herself time to regain her control, but it was difficult.

  Once again Jacob had out-manoeuvred her, and it wasn’t pleasant realising he could read her so easily. At every turn he seemed to be a few steps ahead, making his plans and carrying them through with an almost galling ease. Yet somehow she had to make her own plans, plans which would eventually bring about his downfall. She could never rest until she had made Jacob pay for all he had done!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HELEN didn’t mean to fall asleep. After she had showered and slipped on a lightweight robe she lay down on the bed to rest for a while, only to wake some time later to darkness.

  For a moment she lay still, trying to orientate herself in the strange room, then slowly the memory of where she was surfaced. She swung her legs off the bed and walked over to the window, surprised to find the French doors open. She didn’t recall opening them but she must have done.

  There was a deliciously cool breeze blowing in through the opening and on a sudden impulse she pushed the doors wide and walked out on to the veranda which ran along the side of the bung
alow. Walking over to the rail which marked the edge of it, she stared across the white sand towards the sea which glittered under a full moon. It was almost idyllically peaceful, just the soft rhythmic sound of the ocean vying gently with the rustling of the palm trees stirred by the breeze, and she sighed softly in appreciation.

  ‘How do you feel now? Less tired after your sleep?’

  She gasped at the unexpected sound of that deep voice, swinging round to pinpoint where Jacob was. Her eyes searched the shadows by the house then came to a halt when she found him seated in a chair further along the veranda. Even as she watched he got up and came towards her, stopping several feet away as he studied her with a thoroughness which brought the colour into her face. She turned away at once to go back inside, suddenly achingly conscious of her state of near undress, the thinness of the robe which the breeze was plastering against her body, and heard Jacob exclaim almost wearily.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Helen, I won’t bite! You don’t need to go rushing off as though I terrify you.’

  She stopped uncertainly, drawn to a halt by that note in his voice and her own realisation of how foolishly she was acting. ‘You don’t terrify me, Jacob. Don’t flatter yourself.’

  He laughed shortly. ‘No? Then you give a very good impression of it.’

  ‘I was merely going inside to get dressed,’ she said stiffly, then wished she’d held her tongue when she felt his gaze drop to the slender curves of her body, clearly outlined through the soft clinging cotton. The feel of his gaze made her go hot all over yet surprisingly, when he replied, there was no hint of anything, not even that mockery she had come to expect, in his tone.

  ‘You’re wearing far more than you would on the beach so don’t worry about it. Come and have a glass of wine, Helen, and relax for a while.’ When she continued to hesitate he smiled faintly. ‘I’m sure we are both adult enough to call a truce for a while, aren’t we, without it endangering the outcome of the war?’

  He walked back along the veranda and sat down again, leaving Helen to follow or not as she chose. For a moment she stood undecided, wondering if it was wise, then with a shrug followed him and sat down on one of the comfortable wicker chairs arranged beside a small cane table. There would undoubtedly be many battles to fight in the future, she didn’t doubt, so why waste her strength when there appeared to be no need?

  When Jacob poured her a glass of wine, she accepted it with a nod of thanks and took a sip, letting the cool liquid rest on her tongue for a second before swallowing it gratefully. She hadn’t realised before just how thirsty she was, and the wine tasted good, fresh and clean as it trickled down her dry throat.

  ‘There’s food if you’re hungry.’ Jacob pushed a platter of cold meats and salad across the table towards her, then set a basket of small fresh rolls beside it. ‘Nothing fancy, I’m afraid, but everything is fresh.’

  Helen glanced at the tempting array, suddenly realising that she was hungry as well as thirsty. She had refused everything apart from coffee on the flight, too tense and strung up to eat the meal offered; now her stomach was telling her that it was way past time she had something. Taking one of the plates, she selected several slices of meat and a generous helping of salad, then broke one of the small rolls open and buttered it. It tasted delicious, light and airy, almost melting in her mouth.

  Jacob must have seen her appreciation because he sat back in his chair, watching her almost indulgently as she ate. ‘I thought you would want something when you woke up. It must be hours since you last ate, Helen.’

  The way he was watching her made her feel self-conscious although she couldn’t explain why. Hurriedly Helen finished the light meal and popped the final piece of roll into her mouth, then visibly jumped when he suddenly leaned towards her. Her eyes flew to meet his, wide and startled, and she saw him shake his head as he caught her chin and turned her face towards the dim light spilling from the house on to the veranda.

  ‘Relax. You’ve got a smear of butter on your lip. I’m only going to wipe it away so don’t panic.’

  He picked up a napkin, wiped it over the corner of her upper lip and dropped it back on to the table, yet even then he didn’t release her. Instead his hand slid down her throat, his fingers coming to rest on the pulse which was beating a tattoo at the base of it, betraying her agitation so clearly. ‘Is it fear that makes your pulse race like this, Helen? Or is it something else?’

  His voice was soft in the night’s stillness, barely carrying above the swishing sound of the waves, the sighing of the breeze as it rustled the stiff leaves, yet to Helen’s ears it seemed unnaturally loud, blanking out all the other sounds. Her head seemed to be full of those rich tones, her body shuddering convulsively as they stroked across her skin. When Jacob gently drew his hand back up her throat and slid his fingers along the curve of her jaw, she stared at him as though mesmerised and heard him give a low, harsh exclamation which seemed to be torn from him. ‘Helen!’

  There was so much emotion in that single word that it shocked her. This was Jacob, tough, ruthless Jacob, yet when he said her name that way there was something oddly vulnerable about the sound of it, as though for a moment he had almost lost that formidable control he always held over himself.

  Suddenly Helen felt afraid, afraid that she was crossing some unseen line beyond which she would be incapable of controlling her own destiny. She tried to free herself from his hold, her eyes luminously green in the glow from the moon. ‘Jacob, I don’t think...’

  ‘The trouble is that you think far too much, Helen. You always have.’ His fingers curved around the back of her head, warm and firm, holding her when she would have moved out of his grasp, drawing her imperceptibly closer to him. ‘Just for a few minutes, sweet, don’t think...just feel.’

  He drew her to him, bending as she came closer to fit his mouth to hers in a long drugging kiss which left her feeling so shaken that she couldn’t stop the helpless gasp which left her lips. Jacob stiffened when he heard that betraying little sound, his eyes staring straight into hers from the distance of mere inches until Helen felt that she was drowning in the glittering blue depths, drowning in the emotion she could see swirling in them. She closed her eyes against the devastating sight but that was a mistake, because now her other senses took control. She could smell the musky, heady scent of his skin, feel the warmth of his body, hear the rapid sound of his breathing mingling with her own, taste the coolness of the wine on his lips, and she was suddenly lost in a maelstrom of feelings and emotions.

  When Jacob pulled her even closer to him to deepen the kiss she made no attempt to stop him, her hands sliding up the warm hard muscles of his chest to rest against his shoulders. Under her hands his skin seemed to burn, the heat so intense that it spread from him to her, heating her own blood to a degree whereby it seemed to scorch her veins, filling her with fire which burned away any lingering thoughts of resisting.

  Her mouth opened willingly under his seeking lips, her whole body shuddering as she felt his tongue slide inside to tangle with hers in a heady rhythm which stirred her unbearably. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, this hot, wild turbulence of emotions. It was rawly elemental, demanding her response, allowing her no leeway. Jacob kissed her and she kissed him back just as deeply, just as desperately, because at that moment that was the thing she wanted to do most in the world.

  When he started to draw back away from her, she whimpered softly, her hands clinging to him convulsively, but all he did was stand up and draw her with him, obviously impatient with the restrictions their seated positions imposed upon the closeness of their bodies. His hands slid down her spine, moulding her to him, so close that she could feel every hard muscle imprinted against her softness, feel the heavy, rapid rising and falling of his powerful chest, the pressure of his thighs. And all the while he kissed her, his mouth demanding more and more from her, more than she had thought herself capable of giving, more than she had given to any man before.

  ‘Jacob!’ Was
that really her voice sounding so full of longing and excitement as it said his name in the silence? Helen knew it must be yet she seemed oddly divorced from it, as though she listened to the voice of a stranger, but then she was acting like a stranger now. She had never felt this way before, never felt the blood pulsing in her veins, never felt the burning heat of desire.

  He drew back abruptly, his eyes glittering as he stared down at her. ‘I knew this would be how it could be, Helen. And I was right!’

  There was undisguised triumph in his voice now, mingling with the throbbing note of passion, and she went cold. She stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes, suddenly realising what she was doing and what she had been inviting! How could she have been such a fool as to let this happen?

  Shame was just as cold as passion had been hot. It filled every part of her, making her want to run from her own foolishness, but pride dictated that she should try to hide how she felt from Jacob.

  ‘Were you? Do you really imagine that I could forget all you have done so easily?’ She laughed scornfully, praying that he wouldn’t hear the real truth behind the brave words. ‘Please let me go.’

  He released her at once, his face betraying little as he watched her. Helen smoothed a hand over her dishevelled hair, avoiding his eyes as she tried to regain her shattered composure.

  ‘Are you saying that this was all a calculated act designed to trick me in some way?’

  ‘Of course. You don’t really imagine that I enjoyed having you kiss me, do you, Jacob?’ She gave a small forced laugh, then shrank back when he took a slow step towards her.

  ‘Oh, I’d say that you gave a good impression of doing just that, darling.’ He reached out suddenly to catch her arm and draw her to him, smiling faintly as he ran his thumb across the swollen fullness of her mouth. ‘A very good impression, in fact.’