But she’d never know.
Because she couldn’t even read the damned book title.
“Claudia.” He was so close. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob to her room and she pushed it inwards but he was there, his hand closing over hers, holding her still, preventing her from moving inside, from reaching sanctuary.
“What are you doing?” She demanded in her best, most haughty voice.
He stared at her, his frown one of puzzlement. “You haven’t read the play,” he murmured, running his thumb soothingly over the flesh of her inner-wrist. But it didn’t soothe her. It spread desire like wildfire, making her body stir and awaken in ways that were dangerous and new.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, given that I saw your report cards for English,” he teased. And it was the worst thing he could have said.
“Oh, go to hell.” She pulled away from him and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Only he caught it before it landed in the door frame, and pushed it open once more, following her into her room.
“The Taming of the Shrew is a classic,” he said quietly. “And I felt there are similarities to our current predicament.”
She glared at him, her face pale, her eyes showing disbelief. “You do realise everything you say is making this worse?”
“I am getting that idea,” he said with a nod.
“Then stop talking.”
His eyes narrowed and he prowled towards her, his attention caught by her anger and the beauty of it. “You cannot see the funny side?”
“Of being called a Shrew?” She compensated, knowing that she wasn’t upset about the book he’d chosen so much as the fact he’d chosen to gift her a book. A simple, ordinary present that shouldn’t have resulted in a complete breakdown.
He shook his head, his lips compressed in frustration.
“I suppose you’ve called me worse!” She snapped, spinning away from him and stamping across the bedroom to the window that overlooked the swirling river.
She felt his presence in the room but she didn’t turn around again. She stared broodingly at the river, wishing he would leave, wanting him to go.
Needing him to stay.
“Claudia, I am not a man who apologises often,” he said softly. “But I’m doing so now. It was a silly, spur-of-the-moment joke. I was trying to lighten the mood after what happened in the car.”
She blinked rapidly, warning her tears not to fall. “And I said, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” His words were low and hoarse. “Where you are concerned, I don’t think I am capable of doing anything worth your gratitude.”
She turned around slowly, needing him to clarify his remark, but he was gone.
She was alone in the room, and finally, she let her tears fall.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“IT’S A DISASTER, CLAUDIA. I know you said you can’t make it but we’re in such a pickle. Is there any chance you can make yourself available once more?”
Claudia paused, mid-way through stirring the pudding mix and gnawed on her lower lip. She tossed a guilty look at the clock above the old Aga stove.
Patrick had said they would leave that evening. If she hurried, she could beg a lift back to London. When push came to shove, she doubted Stavros was going to carry through with his threat to withhold her allowance. He wasn’t actually kidnapping her.
“I thought you’d organized Elizabeth Magento to take my place?”
“No one can take your place, dear. You’ve been introducing the event every year since it began.”
“That’s three years,” Claudia pointed out, biting back a smile.
“Yes, three years in which you’ve excelled.”
Claudia began to stir the pudding once more, breathing in the sweetly fragrant combination of cinnamon, nutmeg, brandy and dried fruit.
“Elizabeth will be excellent.”
“Elizabeth doesn’t have quite your reputation, dear,” Lady Margaret FitzHerbert said in a confidential tone. “She’s far too brash for most of our members.” She lowered her voice to a stage-whisper. “And I think she was drunk at this afternoon’s meeting.”
Claudia laughed. The irony of being holed up in Bath because her guardian believed her to be capable of just that kind of behaviour! “I’ll… see if I can make it.”
“You’ll let me know by tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, dear. The gala is Friday. I need time to pull a rabbit out of my hat if you forsake me.”
“Forsake you!” Claudia laughed in earnest now. “I’m hanging up. I’m sure I’ll be able to work something out.”
She wiped her hand on her apron and then reached for her phone, pressing the ‘disconnect’ button and shaking her head as she returned to stirring. The mixture came together into a gloopy mess and she carried the bowl over to the muslin cloth she’d moistened and floured earlier. It was lining a colander; she poured the batter into it, using the spoon to empty the last of the mixing bowl and then she lifted the spoon to her mouth and licked it, sighing as the unmistakable flavor of Christmas assailed her taste buds.
For someone who adored all of the rituals of Christmas so completely, she was incredibly disciplined about not undertaking any of the festive activities at any other time of year. To boil a pudding in June would be a sacrilege. No, December and December alone was the month for fruit mince pies, pudding, egg nog, gingerbread houses, mulled wine and sugarplums.
She wrapped the pudding, singing as she worked, tying the bakers’ twine around the ball and then lifting it to test it for strength. Satisfied, she placed it carefully into the pan of boiling, salted water and stepped back.
Perfect.
The kitchen was a little the worse for wear, and she would tidy it in due course.
But for the moment, more important things called Claudia’s attention. Like speaking to Stavros and explaining why it was imperative for her to return to London.
The gala event was one of the highlights of her year. She couldn’t miss it just because her guardian had decided to exercise his power over her.
She had common sense on her side; the conversation should not have been a difficult one. And yet she dreaded it for one reason alone: she hadn’t seen him since the unpleasant incident with the book, the day before. She’d stayed in her room all afternoon, only venturing into the kitchen to make a sandwich sometime around ten at night.
She checked the time on her watch and padded through the house, keeping an ear out for activity. It was strangely silent. She peeked into the conservatory, smiling as her eyes landed on the Christmas tree, then moved back into the house, down the hallway and up the stairs. Her heartbeat increased with each step she took. He was somewhere in the house, and the probability of that being his bedroom or study were both high.
The bedroom was closest. She moved quietly towards it, her pulse throbbing under her flesh as she went, tormenting her.
She lifted a hand and knocked at the door then stepped back, giving it a wide berth, as though he would emerge and burn her.
He didn’t. Half a minute passed with no sign of Stavros. She exhaled a sigh of relief and moved down the hallway. She needed to speak to him, but it was better for that conversation to take place outside of his bedroom.
Chicken, an inner voice taunted.
What exactly was Claudia waiting for?
Three years earlier, as a naïve eighteen-year-old, she’d begged him to make love to her. To take away her virginity and make her a woman. At twenty-one, she wanted the same thing. She wanted to know what all the fuss was about with sex.
But did she still want her guardian to be the one to teach her?
The kiss pushed itself to the forefront of her mind. His lips on hers. Their breath mingled. Their hearts pounding in unison. The taste of desire heavy between them.
She’d never known it could be like that. A kiss without thought or rational action. A kiss as a simple biological expression of need.
His office was
at the end of the house. It had views in one direction of the river and in the other of the little forest behind the gate house. She paused on the threshold, caught her breath and then knocked three times, hoping the rapping on the door gave the appearance of confidence, which she was far from feeling.
“Nai?”
Show time.
Nerves simmered through her as she pushed the door inwards. Stavros was sitting at his desk, but he wasn’t working. His fingers were templed beneath his chin, and his attention had been caught by the bleak sky beyond.
He turned towards her as she came into the room, his eyes swirling with dark emotions when they met hers. “Claudia.” He gestured to the seat opposite. “Sit.”
“That’s okay,” She shook her head, a nervous gesture that conveyed far too much of her emotional state for Claudia’s liking. “This won’t take long.”
Silence beat around them, thumping in the space, dominating them. “Yes?” He prompted after a moment had passed.
“Patrick and Marta are going away tonight.”
His brows lifted thoughtfully. “I’m aware of this.”
“I want to go with them.”
“To spend Christmas with their grandchildren?” He said with a laugh. “Have you been invited?”
“Not with them.” Frustration fizzed at the edges of her words. “I thought they could take me part-way and I’ll catch an uber from there. Or I could catch an uber the whole way,” she murmured, “Come to think of it.”
“Claudia?”
“I mean, it’s not that far, and as you’ve pointed out, I am reckless when it comes to spending.”
“Claudia?”
She looked at him, all wide-eyed impatience.
“I have made myself clear on this score. You are staying with me through Christmas. At least.”
At least. The addendum trilled inside of her.
“I’ve learned my lesson,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ll tone down my media stuff after Christmas. I promise.”
His laugh was dismissive. “You wouldn’t be saying what you think I want to hear, would you?”
She sighed. “You don’t get me.”
“Huh?” His eyes narrowed, and he stood, pressing his hands into the top of his desk, his gaze pinned to her.
“You don’t get me. You don’t understand my life.”
“No.” He nodded sagely. “I don’t. I don’t understand why you would seek the kind of notoriety you attract.”
“It’s not like that!” She snapped. “Yes, I’m in the papers a lot. Yeah, I go to a heap of high-profile events and parties and launches. But that’s kind of my job.”
“Your job?” He laughed scathingly. “And who is your employer? What is your salary? Do you get annual leave?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I raise the profile of worthwhile charities.” She shrugged. “I do try to use my notoriety, as you call it, to do good stuff.”
“And you’re happy to make yourself a laughing stock in the process.”
“I don’t agree with that,” she murmured.
“The press love you right now. But that will change. You are courting disaster with your current lifestyle. I have seen you in the papers for years. With different men, your relationships the stuff of tabloid fantasies. This love triangle has obsessed the nation. And you don’t care? You don’t care that people are judging you for stealing your best friend’s fiancé?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “They’re not judging me…”
“You really don’t read the papers, do you? People are scathing about your lack of loyalty. Is he worth it, Claudia?”
Something inside of her shifted and then snapped. How frustrated she was by his wrong assumptions about her. How angry his determination not to listen to the truth of her life made her!
“You’re a fool if you believe everything you read in the tabloid press.”
“You’re saying it’s not true?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Nice try, princess, but pictures don’t lie.”
She swallowed past the rage and frustration. “And that really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“You are my ward…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But it’s more than that.” She leaned forward over the desk, catching the faint, lingering smell of spices and alcohol, which reminded her of the pudding bubbling away downstairs. “I think you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” He responded without humour, his expression impossible to read. “And what would I be jealous of?”
“The men I’m photographed with?” She murmured, her eyes boring into his, demanding answers. She was so far out on a limb and she hoped like hell she was right. That she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
“Yes, how right you are. The vain, self-interested men you let fumble all over you have been keeping me up at night.” His eyes narrowed and before she could recognize his intentions, he moved around the desk, so that his body towered over hers. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like?”
She stood slowly, her eyes locked to his even when she was terrified and knew it would be safer to look away. “What what would be like?”
“Sleeping with someone who knows what they’re doing.”
She glared at him, but her heart was tripping over itself, and emotions were rioting beneath the surface of her skin. She had come to see him to explain her need to escape. Nothing more. “I’m going back to London. I have a charity ball I’m obliged to attend.”
“You are laying low while this latest scandal blows over,” he corrected, moving infinitesimally closer.
“Damn it, Stavros!” She stomped her foot to the ground. “This is none of your business.”
“Wrong.”
She sucked in an angry breath.
“Did you know that every time you are in the papers, your father is included? Claudia La Roche, daughter of the late literary giant Christopher La Roche… This is how most articles about you begin.” He leaned closer, his face menacing as it hovered just above hers. “Your life is disgracing his legacy.”
She gasped, the horrible sentence burying deep into her soul and spreading plague and pain in its path. She lifted a hand and brought it down on his cheek hard, so that red covered his flesh. She was shivering with emotions and adrenaline and she took one second to survey the damage of her violent outburst and then spun around, running blindly for the door. She was powered by pain and aches and feelings so hurt they were destroyed beyond repair.
She reached for the door, pulling it inwards but Stavros was behind her, his powerful body dwarfing hers, his expression furious as he slammed the door shut and caged her against it.
“You do not get to run away from this conversation, princess, no matter how unpalatable you find it.”
Claudia spun slowly, pressing her back to the door, staring up at Stavros with eyes that showed all her torment and grief. “You don’t get to talk to me like this, no matter how unpalatable you find me.”
“Unpalatable?” His laugh was a harsh sound of self-derision. “That’s the exact opposite of how I feel about you. I might hate your lifestyle and hate your choices. I sure as hell hate the fact you have let every man with a title paw your beautiful body, but even that fact does not change what I want from you.”
“And what’s that?” She fired back, anger mixing with needs that were just as demanding, just as intense.
“I want to screw you.”
She drew in a ragged, aching breath, her pulse a raging torrent that would rival the storm-swept river outside.
She had to tell him the truth. This couldn’t go on. He wouldn’t want her if he knew that she was still innocent. He was playing with her because he thought they were equals. He thought her sexually experienced and as au fait in matters of flirtation and seduction as him.
“You’re wrong about me,” she said urgently, even as her hands lifted to his chest. Not to push him away but to hold him close. She
tilted her head higher, her mouth inviting his. “You’re so wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” He crushed his lips down on hers with urgency. “But I want you anyway. I hate that I want you. I hate that I feel this.” His lips moved over hers, his tongue warred with hers. “I think I even hate you, Claudia, for what you are doing to your father’s name.”
He pushed her back against the door harder, so that she felt the strength and rigidity of his body pressed to hers. “But God, I want you.”
She cried into his mouth, a sob that was wrenched from her body. This was so wrong. On every level. But it was a tsunami that was dragging her out to sea, taking her deep underwater, removing the possibility for breath and survival.
“I’m not what you think, Stavros,” she kissed the words into him, as his hands found her rear and lifted her, wrapping her legs around him.
“Don’t lie to me.” He pulled his head away, just enough for his dark eyes, glistening like chips of black metal, to show their condemnation and swirling desire. “Right now, I don’t care who you’ve been with. Right now, you’re mine.”
She stared up at him, completely stricken. Because it was true. It was an indisputable fact. She always had been.
“Say it,” his hands lifted up higher, finding the strings of her apron and untying it, so that he could lift it over her head and toss it across the room. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
She was wearing a simple black sweater. His fingers sought the hem and pushed it up her body. She wore nothing beneath it, so that when he lifted it over her head, she was naked from the waist up. Her long hair fell over her breasts.
He sucked in a harsh, ragged breath, his eyes almost accusing when they landed to hers.
“Say it or this stops.”
Claudia nodded, and darted a tongue out, licking her lower lip. “Say what?”
“Say you are mine.”
She groaned and nodded, and felt the angry throb of tears mixing with lust low in her abdomen.
“I am.”
His eyes showing triumph in their flaming black centres and then his head dipped forward, swiftly, his mouth moved over one of her nipples, sucking its erect peach tip into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue and assaulting her with sensations she had never before experienced.
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