Sally Wentworth - Tiger in His Lair

by Sally Wentworth

  'Romily, darling. Sweetheart!' He bent to kiss her lingeringly, then pulled her head against his chest so that she could kiss and caress him. Raindrops fell on them unheeded as they kissed and touched, Romily giving now as she had only accepted before. She bit his ear as he nuzzled her neck and moved her chest against his, loving the softness of his hairs against her skin, enjoying the strength in his hard muscles and the width of his broad chest. Her hair began to cling damply to her head and she pushed it out of the way with an impatient hand. She was seized with a sudden hunger and dug her nails into him, biting at his shoulder as he held her body hard against him.

  'Romily?' He said her name on a thick, demanding note and she knew immediately what he wanted.

  For a moment she buried her face against his chest, her heart jumping crazily, almost unable to breathe, then she looked at him, her mouth trembling, and it was long seconds before she could breathe, 'Yes!'

  A great light of triumph flared in James's eyes and his hands tightened, hurting her for a moment before they went to the fastening of her jeans. He undressed her very slowly, savouring every moment, every curve and shadow that was revealed to his hungry eyes. He touched her gently, caressingly, passion held achingly in check until there was nothing left to take off. Then he stood up, reached for her hands and put them on his belt.

  Her hands trembling, Romily fumblingly began to take off the rest of his clothes, but she was aware always of his eyes on her, dark with need, and the knowledge that they would soon be lovers. It was impossible, too, to ignore the fact that he wanted her very, very badly. Her hands faltered, and James suddenly couldn't wait any longer and lost control. Picking her up, he laid her on their discarded clothes, then tore off the last of his as he lay down beside her. He began to kiss her in wild, deep abandonment, his mouth and hands rousing her into a frenzy of hunger for fulfilment. Her body arched to meet him, desperate to fill the void of emptiness, and he took her in a blaze of passion, their moans lost beneath the sound of the rain.

  Afterwards, Romily lay quivering in James's arms, feeling the hammering of his heart, but gradually this, and his ragged breathing, returned to something approaching normal and he raised his head to look at her. His blue eyes were tender, happy, as he kissed her lightly on the corner of her mouth. He smiled, not speaking, and gently traced the outline of her profile with his fingertip, then pushed the wet strands of hair back from her face. She was sheltered from the rain as she lay under him, but could look up at the trees and see the clouds far above. Never again, she thought, would she look up at the rain and not remember that moment.

  James's hand moved to her breast and down the long length of her body, stroking her possessively.

  She felt him begin to harden as he moved against her and her eyes widened. He smiled down at her. 'I've been waiting for today for a hell of a long time,' he said in soft, unnecessary explanation.

  He made love to her more slowly this time, using his body to please and excite her, his experience to lift her close to ecstasy for a moment and then away, prolonging the act of love until she lay writhing beneath him, begging him to love her, love her, love her! And only then did he carry her to the very heights of hedonistic sensuousness, holding back his own climax until he knew that they could share the long waves of pleasure that engulfed them.

  It was some time before they dressed, putting their clothes back on anyhow, and walked slowly through the woods to the boathouse. There, James had champagne and caviare already waiting, and Romily looked at him in questioning surprise. 'But how did you…'

  He shook his head. 'I didn't. This was because we'd been apart for a week, and also because I can never take you out to dinner in the evenings, so I thought I'd bring dinner to you. But as it turns out…' Turning her round, he kissed her lingeringly. 'You're wonderful,' he murmured. 'I'd rather eat you than the caviare.'

  Laughing happily, Romily pushed him away. 'I must get dry first. Can I borrow your sweater again?'

  'Of course.' He got it out of the drawer and gave it to her.

  Taking off her outer clothes, she dried herself and pulled the sweater over her head, keeping only her panties on underneath. As she did so, she paused and said, 'Just who did knit this sweater for you?'

  James laughed delightedly. 'I wondered when you'd get round to asking me that. It was Maggie; she made it for me two Christmases ago.'

  'Maggie! And all the time I thought…'

  He grinned mockingly. 'Don't tell me you were jealous?'

  'Certainly not!' But she smiled and came to put her arms round him. James had put on a pair of dry jeans but hadn't yet got round to putting on a shirt.

  'Let's open the champagne,' he suggested.

  They drank it with the caviare, then opened another bottle and lay back side by side on the big settee, their bare feet entwined, which Romily found very sexy. 'This is like a harem couch,' she said teasingly. 'I bet you bring all your women here.'

  James grinned. 'Want to try it out?'

  She tilted her head to consider it. 'Possibly.'

  'Oh—oh!' He immediately reached for her, but she pushed him away.

  'Down, boy! I only said possibly. I haven't finished my champagne.'

  'Tyrant,' he grumbled, kissing her throat. 'Do you know you have the loveliest legs I've ever seen?'

  Romily lifted one up to inspect it. 'Really?'

  'Really.' He slid his hand along her leg. 'All the way from your toes right up to here,' he demonstrated.

  Rather breathlessly she put her leg down. 'You're a leg man, huh?'

  'Definitely. And any other bits you'd like to display.'

  She laughed, looking up at him happily, all her uncertainty gone now as if it had never been. She had committed herself to him and felt secure in her trust. 'James,' she said slowly.

  'Mm?' He took a swallow of his champagne.

  'You remember you asked me once who had hurt me? What he'd done to me?'

  She felt him stiffen beside her. 'Yes.' He put his glass on the floor and turned to face her, giving her his whole attention.

  'It was a man who was a guest at the hotel where I worked. He used to stay there often when he came to London on business. He was an executive director with a big firm. He didn't work his way up, he got into it through his family, so he was quite young, only twenty-eight when I met him.'

  'How did you meet him? You said you never saw the guests.'

  'Quite by accident. The staff weren't allowed to use the front entrance, but I'd arranged to meet a friend and I was late, so I ran round to the front of the hotel. We both made a dive for the same taxi and he suggested we share it as we were both going in the same direction. And it—it grew from there.'

  'So you had an affair with him?' James said rather heavily.

  'Eventually. After about six months. There was 'I no excuse, really. I wanted it as much as he did. But I didn't until he—he bought me a ring. He said it wasn't an engagement ring, but he was always saying what we would do in the future when his job was secure, and I suppose I wanted it so much that I took it that we were engaged. So—I let him take me up to his room.' She stopped, belatedly realising that she had let James make love to her without even mention of marriage or the future, and went on hurriedly, 'It went on for two years, and in the end everyone in the hotel knew about it. They all accepted that we would eventually get married, and even the managers turned a blind eye.' She paused, then said, her voice like lead, 'Which is why it hurt so much when I found out that he was already married.'

  'How did you find out?' James asked evenly.

  She gave a short laugh, bitter with remembered pain. 'Quite simply. His wife had a baby and they put the announcement in the births column of the Daily Telegraph. A dozen people must have pointed it out to me. And it wasn't even his first child!' She took a long swallow of the champagne, her eyes tight closed.

  'So you told him to go to hell, I hope.'

  'Yes. Yes, I did.' Romily paused, her voice for a moment too choked to speak
, then managed on a gulp, 'But he said—he said he'd grown tired of me anyway. That I'd become—repetitive.'

  James swore savagely and held her close to him as she began to shake with sobs, then he started to kiss her eyes, her throat, her lips, until he had driven out the past with the forceful passion of the present and she forgot Richard completely in his arms.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It was still raining when James walked back with Romily to the edge of the woods. Taking her in his arms, he held her in a last embrace, and even with all their waterproofs on it still felt good to be held close to him. They had already arranged to meet again in two days' time, but now James looked at her earnestly and said, 'Promise me you'll tell them about us now.'

  'Yes, all right.' She smiled at him. 'As a matter of fact Carol and Gerald are giving a party next Sunday—a sort of hotel-warming—and they've said I can bring someone, if I like. Would you like to come to that?'

  To her surprise, James hesitated for a long moment before answering, then he nodded decisively. 'Yes, I'd like to.'

  They parted reluctantly and Romily ran the rest of the way on a cloud nine dream, telling herself how stupid she'd been not to trust James before. He was a fantastic lover—far better than Richard had been; a thought that made her realise that she was completely over Richard at last. It had been a hurtful and bitter thing to happen, but now she could put it behind her, chalk it up to experience and be glad that she had at least found out the truth and broken with Richard, otherwise she might have gone on waiting for him indefinitely, letting him use her whenever he was in town. But now she had James and the future was suddenly bright and golden again.

  She was late getting back and went straight into the kitchen to get on with making dinner. Gerald had not only finished and let another room, but had also taken a booking for a table for four from some people from Inverness who had heard that the food was good here, so there would be fourteen people in to dinner. There was a choice of starter, soup, a set main course, then the dessert trolley, followed by cheese and biscuits, and coffee which could be taken in the lounge on one of the settees in front of the log fire. They had got into the routine of Gerald serving pre-dinner drinks, taking the orders and serving the wine, while Carol waited at the tables and Romily did everything in the kitchen, having prepared as much beforehand as she possibly could with Carol's help. This system had worked all right up to now, but Romily decided they would have to have some extra help soon, especially as Gerald had almost finished decorating two more rooms and didn't anticipate any difficulty in letting them out.

  He came into the kitchen shortly after she got back and Romily turned to mention this to him, but something in his face held her tongue. Rather curtly he said, 'You were late getting back.'

  'Yes, I know. I'm sorry, but I prepared quite a lot

  But Gerald went on, 'I thought you must still be at Mrs MacPherson's house, so I drove up there to save you the walk in the rain. She said you weren't there, that you hadn't been there.' He pursed his lips angrily. 'So I thought that perhaps you'd gone to meet Ian MacPherson, but his grandmother said that he was at home with a heavy cold and hadn't been out of the house all day. So just where have you been, Romily?'

  She groaned inwardly. Why had Gerald had to catch her out today of all days? 'Out,' she prevaricated, playing for time.

  'I know you've been out,' he exclaimed. 'What I want to know is where. And who with?'

  Guilt made her feel angry herself and she retorted with, 'I'm not a child, Gerald, I don't have to answer to you for what I do in my spare time! If I were just an employee you wouldn't dare ask me such a question.'

  He looked taken aback. 'You're my sister. What you do concerns me.'

  'It didn't concern you very much before I came to work for you,' she pointed out sharply. 'When you were in Bahrain you hardly even bothered to write!'

  Gerald glared at her frustratedly. 'I don't care who you go out with just so long as it isn't Gordon.'

  For a minute it didn't register and Romily looked blank. 'Gordon who?'

  His grim face relaxed. 'I meant James Gordon. For a minute I thought there might be a possibility that you'd seen him again. But that couldn't be, of course. I'm sorry.' She didn't answer, just looked at him expectantly, and he went on, 'I wouldn't want you ever to go near that swine, Romily.'

  'Swine?' she questioned, trying not to show any emotion in her face. 'That's rather a strong word, surely?'

  'Not for him,' her brother said with a venom she'd never seen him show before. 'Not for him. Just keep away from him, Romily. Don't go anywhere near him!'

  He went away and she let out a long, stunned breath. What on earth had James done to Gerald to make him so angry? But whatever it was must have happened years ago, because she was certain they hadn't met since Carol and Gerald had returned to Scotland. And where did it leave her? She had almost been on the point of telling Gerald when he'd come out with his tirade against James. So now what did she do? She had James making her promise to tell Gerald, and Gerald telling her to keep well away from him. One thing was certain, though; she couldn't possibly let James come to the party now, and she would have to think of some way of trying to break it to Gerald gently. Perhaps if she explained to Carol her sister-in-law might reveal the mystery and help her to bring Gerald round. But if it came to a choice between Gerald's anger and continuing to see James, then she knew James would win every time. If necessary she would leave and Gerald would have to find a new cook, much as she was enjoying her work and didn't want to let him down.

  So it was with a mixture of blissful happiness and rather annoyed puzzlement that Romily waited to see James again. She didn't like the feeling that she was deceiving her relations and had made up her mind to ask him what it was all about, at the moment she felt as if she was playing pig-in-the-middle with an invisible ball. But when she came down to make the breakfasts two mornings later she found a hand-delivered letter from James waiting for her on the mat. It read: 'Forgive me, sweetheart, but I can't meet you today after all. I'm mad as hell about it, but business has raised its ugly head and I have to go to London. I'll see you at the party on Sunday. Until then, my darling, my thoughts will be filled with the most wonderful memories. James.'

  'Oh hell!' Romily spoke aloud, her disappointment acute. She felt that she had just been living for today, and now she would have to wait until Sunday to see him. No, longer than that because she must put him off coming to the party. She sighed in exasperation. And in frustration; already her body was aching to be loved again. The last line of his letter brought an answering smile to her lips; her thoughts had been filled with very little else, too.

  That afternoon she had to be content with going up to Maggie's for another lesson, but first dropped a letter in at the castle for James, telling him not to come to the party and asking him to telephone her so that she could explain. Ian was still at home, but he was much better and hung around until Maggie got fed up with him being under her feet and ordered him back into the sitting-room. He insisted, though, on walking her home, so Romily took the opportunity to let him know, very tactfully, that she would be happy to have him as a friend and neighbour but nothing more. He took it philosophically enough and, it turned out, had been quite expecting her to say it.

  'My grandma warned me ye weren't interested in me. I suppose you like the city types?'

  'I don't know about city types, but I do prefer— well, older men.'

  He laughed. 'I'd better find myself a teenager, then. Maybe to her I'll be an older man!'

  She smiled, glad that he was taking it so well. 'We've got a new girl starting at the hotel soon. Come in and have a cup of tea one morning and meet her.'

  'Aye, I will.' He walked her right up to the main door. 'Goodbye to you, now.'

  'Bye.' he turned to go in just as Carol came to the door, so she left the two of them talking about the garden while she went up to change.

  The weather began to improve at last and that weekend was dry and
sunny, which Romily thought a shame when she had to stay in and prepare all the food for the party. They had decided to close the kitchen on that day and give the guests the option of going out to dinner or going to the party, and the three couples who happened to be there that evening, all Americans, opted for the party.

  When the Sunday morning came round, though, and James hadn't phoned her, Romily began to get a little worried and rang through to the castle to make sure he'd got her message. But the phone was answered by his servant, who said that James wasn't at home.

  'He has arrived back from London, though, hasn't he?' she asked anxiously. 'You did give him my letter?'

  'Yes, miss. I gave it to him on Friday evening as soon as he arrived.'

  'Oh. That—that's all right, then. Thank you.'

  She put the phone down, relieved that he'd got her message. Maybe he hadn't thought it worth phoning for an explanation. Maybe he had already guessed why. Which was more than she had done, Romily thought with some annoyance. It had been five days now since she had been with him and she longed to see him again. Just to be near him and touch hands, to look into each other's eyes with the secret knowledge that they were lovers. But now she would have to wait until she could phone him tomorrow and they could arrange to meet again.

  All that afternoon she and Carol were busy with the last-minute preparations, making canapes, arranging flowers, polishing glasses, getting as much prepared as possible of the hot dishes they would be serving for supper. All the feverish rush of things that build up to the excited, urgent feeling that you ought to have when you give a party. By six-thirty they'd done as much as they possibly could and went upstairs to bathe and change, Carol in happy anticipation, but Romily with a dead feeling of anticlimax; without James here as her guest the party loomed ahead very dull and lifeless.

  At eight o'clock the three of them gathered in the bar for a much-needed drink before the first of the guests arrived. Carol looked good in a new dress of soft blue silk and Romily had put on a rather sexy black outfit of harem trousers and a top with a very low-cut, swathed back and wide gold belt to match her gold high-heeled sandals. But she rather thought it was going to be lost on her brother's friends. Carol had hired a local girl, Susan, to help on the tables and she had come along tonight to open the door to the guests and take their coats so that Carol and Gerald would be free to serve drinks and circulate while Romily took round the canapés and did all the final food preparation.