The Seduction Trap

by Sara Wood

  Guy’s face loomed into view. ‘She’s not there, is she?’ he asked urgently.

  His hair had been flattened to his head in a mass of black jet, the tendrils on his forehead sending rivers of water pouring down his face.

  ‘No!’ she yelled hysterically against the noise of the hissing rain. ‘Are you glad?’

  ‘Tessa-Tessa,’ he said gently.

  She took one look at his tender expression and the urge to fling herself into the protection of his arms sent her panic-stricken in the opposite direction, running for all she was worth through the deluge.

  Half-blind with tears, she slid and slipped on the wet cobbles as she leapt puddles and splashed through swirling streams which tumbled down the steep streets and made them a nightmare to negotiate.

  At last she arrived at the end of Rue Boulangerie, sobbing with relief. And skidded to a halt at the sight of the graffiti someone had scrawled across the facade of her house in hideous yellow paint.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she groaned. This was the last straw! She crumpled against the wall, forlorn and defeated. ‘Mon Dieu!’ came Guy’s harsh voice in her ear. And to her secret delight he pulled her to him protectively, encircling her shoulder with his arm.

  This time she didn’t try to escape. She needed him. And she clung to him in gratitude. ‘Guy!’ she whimpered, shaking from head to foot.

  His arm tightened and she felt the thrust of anger stiffening his whole body, each muscle group tensing to its limit. He didn’t do it, she thought with relief. And he doesn’t approve. It was some comfort.

  ‘Come away,’ he growled. ‘I have to see.’

  Soaked to the skin, she numbly approached her house, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of control. ‘What does it say?’ she cried hoarsely. When he didn’t answer she lifted her face and screwed up her eyes against the pounding rain. Guy’s expression was grim. Defined by the shimmering rain, his skin stretched tautly over his cheekbones and his eyes glittered with a lethal brilliance. ‘What does it say?’ she yelled. Coal-black eyes met jade. He seemed hurt, as if he’d never imagined anyone would do this. Someone in his beloved village had acted viciously and it disturbed him. Her heart thudded as he crushed her shivering, quivering body closer, still holding her gaze with his.

  Suddenly she didn’t care about the graffiti. He’d seen that things had gone too far and he wanted to shield her from further revenge. That was strangely uplifting. ‘It says, ‘Go home, daughter of a whore’,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Oh, no!’ she gasped, and he hugged her against his chest, his arms protecting her from the rain as far as possible. ‘The rain... come in,’ she ground out shakily.

  When she moved, he tugged her back and stared down at her with an intense expression. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘You’re coming home with me.’

  ‘Why?’ She felt scared of him. This new, sympathetic Guy could mould her into any shape he wanted. She struggled, but his grip was too firm, his arms capturing her too securely. ‘Please, Guy!’ She whimpered into his saturated shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips.

  ‘I don’t want you to be alone,’ he said roughly. ‘I don’t want you going in there.’ She froze. ‘You think ...?’

  ‘I don’t know what to think,’ he said rapidly, ‘except that I can’t risk your safety. And, for God’s sake, let’s not stand out here getting drenched any longer. I don’t want to leave you here on your own and I’m not staying in your house. Your roof will be inviting in several gallons of water an hour. You’re coming back to the chateau whether you like it or not.’ Suddenly she felt too limp and wet and upset to care or protest, and he must have known that because he hurried her along, taking the safest route to the chateau. The feeling of sanctuary when he slammed the big chateau door behind them was tremendous.

  With a sigh of relief, she slid from his grasp and turned grateful eyes on him from between curtains of dripping hair. He too was soaked to the skin, his muscles shaping the now transparent shirt and claiming her hungry gaze.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered shakily.

  ‘Warmth, food and a drink is what you need,’ he muttered.

  Tessa saw where his eyes had strayed and hastily crossed her arms over her body. If his shirt was transparent, so was hers. Already she could feel the cold, hard peaks of her breasts pushing against the sodden material.

  ‘Someone must hate my mother very much,’ she said unhappily. ‘A creditor, perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Guy!’ she cried plaintively. ‘I can’t bear to think of someone out there, trying to hurt me! And... the awful thing is that I’m beginning to come to the conclusion that my mother might have been.. . d-d-deceitful,’ she stammered.

  ‘That’s what I meant when I said you’d get hurt,’ he said gently. ‘I knew you’d find out the truth sooner or later.’

  ‘You waited outside the phone box because you knew she wouldn’t be where I expected,’ she croaked, licking at the drips falling onto her parted lips. ‘I know her type,’ he said simply.

  Tears welled from her eyes and ran down her face, merging with the trickles of rain. ‘That hurts,’ she said helplessly. ‘I trusted her, Guy, I told her that Dad couldn’t be left on his own for long. I’d only cooked enough meals for a certain number of days. We’d arranged that she should go and be with him while I stayed here. She said she was with him when she phoned! She knew he couldn’t fend for himself. How could she do this to Dad?’

  ‘Or to you.’

  Tessa nodded dumbly. Her mother had let her down. She thought of her father, waiting for news, wondering why there was no phone call. She remembered how her mother had insisted that she shouldn’t ring home. That had been cruel. ‘Dad must be very upset,’ she mumbled, ridden with guilt. ‘And you.’

  The velvet tones were too gentle. She squeezed her eyes tightly to stop the tears, but they kept on coming. And Guy drew her into his arms. Their bodies were hot beneath their damp, clinging shirts. She felt the hardness of his thighs, the pressure of his hand on her spine as he held her. Touching him unlocked her resistance. It seemed they melted together, merging into one body.

  I never want this to end, she thought helplessly.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Guy muttered something against her hair. Then he gently detached himself. ‘You’ll get ill if you stay in those wet things,’ he said thickly.

  The nerves in her body tightened almost to breaking-point. The thought of taking off her clothes in the same building as him was suddenly fuel to the flames burning inside her. ‘And you,’ she said, unconsciously mimicking his concern. ‘Besides, we’ll flood the hall. Warp the marble,’ she added inanely, because her voice had been far too husky.

  With a smile, he held out his hand and she grasped it tightly, revelling in the warmth, the huge protection it seemed to afford her. Her legs trembled. Anticipation rippled through her entire nervous system.

  ‘You and your jokes! Escaping again?’ he murmured, pulling her close once more. ‘I-don’t understand.’

  Her voice lay thick on her tongue, slowing it up. Everything about her seemed slow: her hands where they spread on his beautiful chest, her blood flowing turgidly through her veins and her infinitely delayed brain, which was noting the fact that he meant to kiss her but for some reason didn’t seem to be doing anything to make her jerk away.

  Instead it was Guy who drew back. The disappointment flooded through her in icy waves, thrusting her mouth into a pout of denial. Light fingers touched her throat and wandered tantalisingly down to rest in the wet hollow. Then, as she held her breath, he pushed at the open neckline of her shirt, moving only an inch

  or so beneath her collar-bone, but with such deep concentration on his rapt face that she wanted to groan with pleasure.

  ‘We ought to dry off,’ he husked.

  No, she thought. I want to stay here. Somewhere, far away, her voice replied, very, very slowly and thickly, as if she had been drugged, ‘Y-y-yes.’

  Gu
y’s body shuddered and she closed her eyes in dissatisfaction. He must be cold. He’d insist that they parted and she didn’t want that at all. Her hands clawed involuntarily at his shirt and she found herself drawn hard against his body. Her eyes flicked open in alarm when she felt a rigid pressure against her pelvis, the sheer feel of him and her own body’s reaction making her go limp with desire. ‘I don’t want you to get cold,’ he whispered. Then warm me. She tried to send the message but it became lost in the depths of his smouldering eyes. ‘Mmm,’ was all she could manage.

  With infinite care, he peeled back the neck of her shirt and laid his fingertips on her sensitive skin. ‘But you’re hot.’

  ‘Oh.’ And so was he, she realised; she could feel the heat of him through her palms. Puzzled, she looked at her hands. They’d travelled up to his shoulders. Some terrible urge was encouraging her to touch the smoothness of his tanned neck, where his dark hair curled and glistened with jewelled droplets. But he diverted her, lifting her chin and stroking her parted lips.

  I want to snatch at his fingers, she thought. Bite him. Feed and lick and crush ... The savagery shocked her. To stop herself from bearing him to the ground and covering his mouth with hers, she screwed up every muscle and clamped her jaws together hard.

  ‘I want to kiss you,’ he whispered. ‘No,’ she moaned.

  ‘Yes, I do!’ he said in gentle amusement. ‘Mustn’t.’

  Oh, Lord, what a fool to be driven so wild by his touch, his voice, the warm, male smell of him that she could hardly string two words together! But she could step back if she really wanted to; she could demand a shower and a change of clothes and insist ...

  ‘Why not?’ Guy touched her forehead with his lips, the tip of his tongue lapping at her wet skin. ‘You taste of rain. It’s wonderful.’

  Wickedly she let him continue, revelling in the sweetness of his mouth as it travelled over her blissfully shut eyes and across her cheekbones. A hand pressed against her buttocks, thrusting her deep into his pelvis so that she could be in no doubt as to the fact that his arousal had intensified. And miserably she knew she had to call a halt.

  ‘Giselle.’ The name tasted sour in her mouth. Damn him. Damn him for being everything she’d always wanted but also a two-timing opportunist.

  ‘She’s not here,’ he murmured, hungrily contemplating her mouth.

  Tessa’s loins contracted. He knew they did because a slow smile came to his face, seducing her with its promise, sending her quivering body into a spiralling excitement. ‘She-wouldn’t--like this. It’s-not-fair,’ she mumbled jerkily. ‘You’re very thoughtful,’ he said thickly. ‘But Giselle has her own life to lead. She has several boyfriends. I’m not the only man in her life and I’ve been trying to loosen the bonds that tie us for some months now. I have to prepare her for a parting some day.’ His head had angled; it descended. Not like this! Tessa thought. She didn’t want to be the means of ejecting another woman from his life! Frantically Tessa jerked her head back and he paused. ‘I can’t,’ she whispered miserably. ‘You and she-Guy!’

  she gasped in shock. He’d ignored her protest, his fingers now busy with her buttons. ‘No!’

  ‘Tessa!’ he muttered, ‘don’t let Giselle come between us.’

  ‘She is between us!’ she moaned. ‘No. Never has been, never will be. I care about you. I care very much.’ His fingers fumbled at the knot of her shirt. ‘Oh, Tessa!’ he groaned, exposing her breasts to view. And he knelt in front of her as if in worship, apparently stunned by the throbbing creamy globes he cupped in his gentle hands, his palms sliding around the contours of each breast with exquisite care. ‘You’re so beautiful. More beautiful than I ever imagined all these weeks.’.

  ‘All...?’ Her throat dried at the idea that he’d been thinking of her body just as she’d been thinking of his. But for her it was more than that. She put her hands on his shoulders, ready to push him away. But his thumbs brushed across her nipples and her brain closed down as the sharp-sweet pain radiated out through her nerves, destroying her opposition.

  Slowly he stood, his eyes dark with passion. Watching her all the time, he put his hands to his shirt and ripped it open, as if he had no time or patience for buttons. Tessa swallowed nervously. She had to stop him. Convincing her mouth to open and say so was painful because she really didn’t want to. ‘I’m not beautiful. You can’t pretend for ulterior-’

  ‘I don’t have to pretend.’ Impatiently he unpeeled the rest of his sodden shirt and flung it from him, lifting her hands and placing them on his magnificent naked chest. ‘Touch me,’ he urged. ‘Feel me-’

  She swayed, the feel of his firm, satin skin an aphrodisiac to her senses. Suddenly he lost all control and his mouth came down hard on hers, fierce and ruthless, as if he wanted to devour her whole. As desperate as he,

  she kissed him back angrily, knowing this was as far as she would go but incapable of holding back any longer. If nothing else, she would leave with a memory of this kiss. Savage, wild, uncontrollable. Their mouths meshed, nibbled, burned into one another while she pressed hard against the back of his head to deepen his kisses and he did the same with hers, driving her backwards with his passionate, explosive onslaught.

  The wall met her back. They continued to kiss, his mouth driving hers open, the bitter-sweetness of relief from some of the tension making her sigh with pleasure. But now it was time to stop, she told herself hazily. Just one more kiss. Perhaps another...

  ‘Tessa. You are wonderful!’ he breathed huskily into her mouth. It took a moment or so before she recognised that his hands were at her waist, wrestling with the tough and fearfully overstrained button of her shorts. To her dismay, he had managed by sheer brute force to undo it and had already eased her zip down.

  ‘No!’ she cried in alarm, grabbing the waistband. And she groaned because she was aware that he’d let go all restraint and had unleashed the passions he’d suppressed for too long. He was kissing her throat ardently, along her collar-bone, across her shoulder ... making small sounds in his throat as if the taste of her intoxicated him.

  ‘Why not, Tessa?’ he growled, absorbed in unfairly enclosing one painfully hard nipple with his mouth and tugging gently. Her head tipped back. It was everything she’d ever dreamed. But dreams could be shattered. She felt the sweep of his palm over her rounded stomach, the nip of his teeth on the flesh at her waist. And groaned.

  ‘I’ve put on weight!’ she gasped. ‘You...’ She blushed, miserable that this was the truth. ‘You’ll hate my body-’ He kissed her mouth tenderly. ‘I love your body.’

  ‘You can’t.’ She turned her face away.

  He turned it back and kissed her mouth tenderly, reproachfully. ‘I love your curves, the fact that I can’t see your ribs. I love the swell of your stomach and your sexy hips and bottom. I adore the way you eat-with enthusiasm. It suggests an earthy appetite for life and it’s a powerful turn-on for me. I loathe thin women who look like boys or, worse, who have hard muscles. I found you attractive when I first saw you because your personality hit me between the eyes, but now...’ He swallowed, and when he continued he sounded croaky. ‘Now you are rounded like a real woman and I can’t keep my hands off you. I’ve tried-I didn’t want to get involved with you. I didn’t want to be obsessed, like my father, particularly with Estelle Davis’s daughter. I kidded myself that I was flirting with you because I might persuade you to give me the cottages. But that wasn’t true. I kissed you and touched you because I couldn’t keep away.

  ‘I want to hear you laugh, to see the way your mouth curves into a gentle smile. I want to see those incredible eyes gazing into mine. I love the way you fight adversity without losing your femininity, how you can wear paint-stained jeans and plaster in your hair and still look good enough to eat. I love everything about you. I want you, Tessa. I want you very much.’ She was stunned into silence.

  ‘No comment?’ he whispered into her shell-shaped ear. ‘I-I-,

  ‘Well!’ he said, with a feral grin
. ‘Now I know how to silence you so I can do whatever I want.’

  ‘I daren’t trust you,’ she said chokily. ‘I’m scared, Guy. I’ve heard this before. I was fooled before-told I was beautiful. It was a joke-a filthy, mean joke.’

  ‘I could murder that little runt who hurt you!’ he growled. ‘I’m interested in you. Tessa. The person inside. Haven’t I made that clear? I’ve watched you working, seen your reactions to the ups and downs of life. You did your best to help the Donovans and the Kennedys. You felt sorry for your mother’s creditors. I have an overwhelming urge to care for you and protect you, to be with you twenty-four hours a day. I think about you all the time. I can’t get you out of my mind. ‘I’ve never felt like this before. It scares me too. And you know perfectly well I’m not stringing you a line. This is different,’ he murmured, slowly, teasingly kissing her unhappy mouth. ‘You know this is different. I can’t fake my reaction to you.’ And he took her hand, boldly placing it on his loins. ‘Let me make love to you. Say yes,’ he groaned, ‘before I die of longing!’

  ‘I-’ The words stuck in her throat. She felt frightened. ‘I’m terrified of getting hurt.’

  ‘Life’s a risk!’ he said fiercely. ‘But I won’t hurt you, I promise. You know and I know that there’s a chemistry between us. We’re on opposite sides of the fence with barbed wire, guard dogs and ‘Keep Out’ notices all round, but still we’ve got through to each other, still we’ve reached this moment when we can-’ He broke off.

  ‘When we can what?’ she asked, beside herself with curiosity. He sighed. ‘When I lost everything I loved-my father, my home, my country-I built a shell around myself and swore that no one would ever penetrate it and hurt me again. Coming back here has made me want to live again. More so, now I’ve met you.’ He grinned affectionately. ‘I’ve been fighting a losing battle

  ever since you fell out of the hammock. I wanted to pick you up and hold you close because you brought out all the tenderness in me I thought had been obliterated by circumstances. I want you to be a part of my life. A real part. You and me together. That’s my risk, telling you that. Now I expect you to take a risk in return.’