Her Irresistible Guardian

by Lisa Torquay

  They spent what was left of the morning strolling along the beaches and they had picnic in one of them. Amy took him around the touristic views in the afternoon. After a brief stop at Amy’s house, they stepped into the night. It was late when they came to the house in the old town. Mark followed her to her bedroom and engulfed her again in his intense lovemaking.

  Amy awoke next morning to find herself wrapped in Mark’s strong arms. He lay along her back with his face buried in her cinnamon silky ringlets. She just remained there enjoying the feel of him, quietly.

  Mark stirred and held her closer. He was waking up. His hands started wandering over her naked lush body. A half-smile in her lips of pure delight. His fingers came up looking for her breast. They rolled her nipple lazily at the same moment he nibbled the nape of her neck. She sighed with pleasure. He pressed his body on hers, she felt his arousal and she arched to feel more. In the attempt to hold her tighter, his body came over hers.

  “Amy.” He groaned in a sleepy hoarse voice. “Please.”

  As answer, she opened her legs and elevated her buttocks for him.

  “I can’t get enough of you, for God’s sake!” And he glided in her in a long, deep thrust, while his fingers searched the core of her.

  Amy was tortured by his fingers and relieved by his thrusts. Together both contradictory actions took her to the edge. He continued moving until she found a hallucinating pleasure. Mark also met with intense release. They fell asleep anew.

  Sunday elapsed calmly as they strolled around the old town. Amy knew Mark must leave today. He had given the opening speech to the managing staff in Mallorca and he was supposed to go back to London to his duties at his company.

  Late afternoon, they came back to her house. Mark had called his crew and warned them to prepare for flying. She stood in the middle of the sitting room, looking at the sunny old city through the window.

  At that moment, he strode to the sitting room and threw his backpack casually at the entrance hall. He approximated her, took her by her shoulders and his attention bored into her enormous honey stare.

  “You’re coming with me to London. We’re going to get married and we’re living in the Georgian mansion.” His voice deep and commanding.

  Amy stared at his predator’s focus and annoyance crept into her. She breathed out a sarcastic smile. “You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”

  His gaze acquired a lost quality, as if he couldn’t understand her point. “It is the only sensible thing to do.”

  Sensible? He sought her in the night with steaming passion. He snuggled possessively. He took her from fiery hells of desire to unthinkable heavens of delight and release and he was sensible? What kind of marriage would this be? Based on their inexorable physical attraction? He never talked about his feelings, neither did she, to be honest. But what if he got tired of her? He had too much sexual energy to keep up with a bland marriage. This scheme scared her to death, to say the least.

  It scared her for more reasons than one. Loss. She had known several losses in her life: her mother at a tender age; Linda, her adored step-mother; and her father. She had gone through too much sorrow from too young age. Without even being aware of it, she dreaded losing Mark, her former guardian, her present lover. In her sensitive, emotional way of thinking, it was better to avoid commitments than feel that pain again.

  “I have business to attend to here, you know.” And she had other business elsewhere as well, but this wasn’t to go public. Not to him.

  “Sell it. Abandon it! Whatever.” His voice became hard; he stepped away from her, raking his hand through his sleek dark hair.

  “I’m not doing anything of the sort.” She lifted her chin in defiance. He turned to her and she held his stare determinedly.

  “What do you propose then? That I travel here on weekends?”

  “I propose nothing!” Her hands hung on her waist in a clear sign that she’d keep her ground. “We get on with our lives. We owe nothing to each other.”

  In a wave of fury he stepped quickly to her and laced her tight by the waist. “And you’re sure we’ll succeed in keeping apart.” He spoke through his teeth.

  “Absolutely.” She eyed him trying to hide the sensations that were already cutting through her body. “We’ve done it for the last period of time.”

  “The devil we have!” He muttered angrily tightening her even more. “I searched for you like crazy; the nights were penitence and memories, anguishing.”

  He was translating exactly what she felt herself during that arid gap of time. But she wasn’t prepared to give up her independence so soon. She had to make him get to his jet before she lost her mind and followed him to the confines of Earth so that he’d continue to pleasure her in that flaming, consuming way of his.

  She disentangled herself from him and walked to the window. “I just want to say that I-I am very grateful for the way you helped me in the past.” She knew she was implying that, for her, their affair was a way to show how thankful she was. The consequences of it wouldn’t be pleasant. “But I have just gained an independence I’ve never had before and I’d like to enjoy it a little further.”

  Her back was to him so she didn’t see his expression. It went from devastation to boiling fury. The idea that she might have accepted him in her bed out of gratitude was outrageous. He wanted to think she was telling an outright lie, that she just wanted to enjoy her new-found freedom. But all he had to do was to look at her youth. Her beauty. Her sensual appetites. And he saw that gratitude was all that was possible for her to feel for him. Not that she hadn’t enjoyed it. Much on the contrary, he saw her face as they made love, or sex, if she wished. There was nothing beyond that though. She didn’t feel the same lavish love he felt for her. A love that devoured his guts, burned his blood and swept his body. His soul was drowned in it and there was nothing he could do about this.

  She turned to him and he hid his turmoil under a stone mask. “Don’t get me wrong.” She said blandly. “I value what we shared.”

  “I see.” He muttered only too silkily. “Good bye.” He grabbed his bag and was out of the door before she could draw a breath.

  As she saw the door closing, the magnitude of what she had done hit her. She had pushed him away forever and she had only herself to blame. Her legs bent and her body found the armchair in the exact second the tears started rolling down her cheeks.

  Back to work, Mark was an automaton. He performed all his duties to perfection. He arrived early and left late. He immersed in work. He tried hard not to think of Amy. But she was there all the time: in his heart, in the longings of his body, in his memory and in the Georgian mansion, where her bedroom remained the same and where, after years, her presence lingered.

  An important major shareholders’ meeting was about to happen in a couple of days and he had to get prepared to it. He had to put together finance reports, planning outlining and presentations. There was a lot of work to be done and it provided just the right opportunity for him to benumb himself with overload.

  Amy wasn’t any better. She continued working in her consultancy business, but without any enthusiasm. She wondered why she needed all that freedom for when she wanted only to be with him again. Her life had become barren and cold. She longed for the warmth and calid moments he alone could bring to her. She just loved him and there wasn’t a way out of it.

  Chapter XIV

  It was five minutes for the meeting with the shareholders to start and Mark was still at his office finishing the final details of the opening presentation. He heard a knock on the door. Ms Scott put her head in. “Mr Torres is calling you, Mr Benton.”

  Mark lifted his head from the laptop distractedly. “I’m coming.” Torres would be participating in the meeting, since the R&D department was the key to the future of MBS and he’d be giving a speech on its achievements and future developments.

  Torres had proven to be an extremely competent professional. In those few months he had structured the R
&D department, implemented new projects and created innovative solutions for security systems. Mark was very satisfied with his job. But Mark still couldn’t swallow his Don Juan-istic manners with his female colleagues.

  Mark joined Juan in the corridor and they walked together to the conference room. Mark entered first and froze, blocking the door for Juan. Among many people sitting around the big table was Amy. She was dressed in a very fine cream French-cut tailleur, her cinnamon curls knotted on the top of her head with some ringlets falling around her perfectly heart-shaped face. A touch of lip-gloss coloured her full tempting lips. Her huge translucent eyes stared blankly at him. He took some seconds to react and step in the room.

  Amy had gone to lengths of care to attend to this meeting. She had become a shareholder now. She had used part of her inheritance to buy MBS shares. Even though she had prepared carefully for this moment, she realized she was not ready to face Mark again. Her heart was pounding furiously, her body was trembling and she sat on the chair upright, trying to stop the sensations that were running wild through her.

  When Juan entered the room he spotted her and smiled cheerfully. “Amy!” He extended his hand to her and she stood up to greet him. “It’s a surprise. You’re a shareholder now!”

  She smiled politely. “Well yes. I bought some through an agent.” As she rose, Mark had a view of her lush body under the coat and knee-length well-adjusted skirt. And his response was the eternally predictable one.

  Mark looked at her disguising the fact that he was dumfounded. A shareholder? And no one alerted him? As soon as the meeting finished he’d make a couple of phone calls to ask a few questions. Besides him, she was the person with the highest number of shares there. Practically a co-owner. How did she manage to turn tables so boldly was a mystery to him. But there was a non-ignorable corner inside him that was happy to see her and happy that she chose his company to invest in.

  The meeting went according to the agenda. The shareholders seemed satisfied with the course MBS was treading. As the meeting came to an interval, everybody was invited to the coffee-break in the lounge.

  Juan offered his arm to Amy to take her to the lounge. At that Mark fumed. Rage cut through him as a rocket.

  “Do you have anywhere to stay?” Mark heard that project-of-a-Latin-lover saying. “I’ve got a spare-room in my flat if you care to consider it.”

  “She has her own room in the Georgian mansion and that’s where she’s staying.” Mark cut the conversation without regard to politeness.

  Amy had arrived this morning from Nice and had left her bags in the baggage locks available in the car park in the underground. She hadn’t thought about a place to stay since she was very anxious about this meeting. She had a notion she’d stay in a hotel somewhere. It’d be only a couple of days anyway. But she missed the Georgian mansion so much, the only place she called home. And she wanted to see it again. And talk to Mrs Smith, whom she missed a lot too.

  “Thank you so much, Juan.” She said in a pleasant way. “But I’d like to stay with Mrs Smith. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “As you wish.” Juan smiled and they walked to the lounge.

  Mark felt a sense of victory even though he had to tolerate that project of a Latin lover to accompany her to the lounge. What victory, you moron? Will you never learn? Wasn’t it so clear the way she felt about you? Grateful. She felt grateful to you! How difficult was it to understand? It still hurt, damn it!

  The meeting finished at mid-afternoon and Mark watched out for Amy. “Come.” He said, walking to her. “I’ll take you to the Georgian mansion.”

  She was talking to another shareholder in the room. She turned to him. “Yes. Sure.” She looked at the shareholder excusing herself and followed him, uncomfortable with the fact that he interrupted her and was taking her home as he wished.

  Mark loaded his top-of-the-range car with her bags, opened the door for her and went to take his seat.

  “So why did you buy shares from MBS?” Mark asked as he drove along the streets of London.

  “It is obviously a good investment.” She answered casting a brief look at him. He was magnificent in a dark green suit, snow-white shirt and silk green tie, matching his height and his stare. It made a contrast with his dark hair and masculine profile. How she had longed for him.

  “I have a feeling you wanted to teach me a lesson.” He stopped at the red-light and turned his focus to her, causing her body to lighten up.

  “Well...how does it feel to be manipulated?” Her huge eyes acquired a sardonic look.

  “Oh, yes, I see.” The light went green and he drove, keeping his eyes on the heavy traffic. “It doesn’t feel that good, after all.”

  “Check mate.” She smiled sideways.

  The damn woman was smart, he had to concede. And now he could understand how she felt when she came to know about the inheritance he had hid from her. He couldn’t do anything about her buying his shares though.

  His car turned at the Georgian mansion and Mark parked it in front of the entrance door to unload her bags.

  Amy was barely able to conceal her adoration as she looked at the house she had missed so much. But the door opened and Mrs Smith came running from inside and held her for a long moment.

  “I couldn’t believe when I saw from the window!” She exclaimed. She looked at Amy. “You look so...mature. Beautiful, as always.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Smith. It’s very nice to see you again.” She smiled openly.

  “Are you back for good?” Mrs Smith was hopeful.

  Amy’s smile faded. “I am afraid not. I have to go back to Nice in a couple of days.”

  “Such a pity.” The middle-aged woman seemed disappointed. “But come on in. I’ll prepare your favourite dinner.”

  “Oh, I was missing your food so much, Mrs Smith.” And she started climbing up the door-steps.

  Mark looked at Amy going in and couldn’t help wanting her with a force he had come to be used to. She belonged here. They belonged here. Why couldn’t she see it? He stepped in the entrance hall as the two women chatted cheerfully. “Excuse me.” He said interrupting them. “I have to go back to the office now. I’ll be home for dinner.” Both women nodded and he left.

  He didn’t have a thing to do in the office, he thought as he re-entered his car. Not urgent ones at least. But being so near Amy would crack him almost definitely. He didn’t want her damned thankfulness. He wanted the whole of her.

  Amy went in her rosy room and sighed at the sight of it. This would always be her shelter from the world. The place where the most wonderful things happened to her. Including Mark. He seemed distant, though. Cocooned in excessive politeness, which intrigued her a little. She looked through the window. It was almost summer again. She could hardly believe nearly a year had passed since she arrived home from Oxford. It seemed a lifetime had elapsed. So much water had gone under the bridge. She felt more like a grown up woman now, more aware of her needs and boundaries. Highly womanly, highly centred.

  She showered and dressed carefully for dinner. A formal elegant dress bought recently in France, her cinnamon silky ringlets falling to her shoulders and a touch of lip-gloss on her full-lips. She descended and sat in the sitting-room reading the day’s paper. The household staff had already left, as usual. Mrs Smith had left dinner ready to be served.

  The front door opened and closed. Steps sounded on the polished wooden floor. And Mark appeared tall and devilishly attractive at the sitting room. “Good evening.” He said formal.

  “Good evening,” she answered in the same tone. “Did you have a nice day at the office?”

  “Fairly nice, apart from the surprises.” And he regarded her askew with a touch of amusement in them.

  “Sorry for that. But I wanted to make a discreet move, so to say.” She sat straight spine, hands folded on her lap.

  Mark looked at her so beautiful, sitting there elegantly. France had done her good. Her translucent eyes were looking at him and ope
rating twisting sensations inside him. He only hoped he could make it through dinner without making a fool of himself.

  “It pays off to be discreet in business.” He loosened his tie; took off his suit-coat and tie. He unbuttoned the first two buttons of his fine shirt. Amy looked away, afraid to be too tempted to go there and finish the job.

  Dinner was an awkward session. It reminded her of the dinner they had at Mallorca, soon when she returned to London and was working at MBS. The tension was sparkling as electricity in the air. And it was barely covered up by the unimportant conversation in progress.

  “When do you intend to go back to Nice?” He asked before he cut a piece of his dessert and ate it.

  “Tomorrow, I suppose. There’s work to be done.” She had thought about staying one or two more days, but she was just realizing how difficult it would be to resist the man in front of her. She couldn’t so much as look at him without reacting acutely to his attractiveness.

  “That’s soon.” Mark glanced at her and looked away in the same second. If he kept looking too much he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go on with that meaningless small talk they were having so far.

  “Life has become busy of late.”

  And they dared to look at each other’s’ eyes. His feline ones observed her so attentively as to absorb every single nuance of her. Her huge translucent stare held his for as long as she could. So they dilated, snitching her in every possible way. She flushed intensely and had to lower her gaze.

  “You know you can stay for as long as you want.” But underneath he was nearly commanding her to stay forever.

  “Thanks. That’s very kind of you.” Just a faint smile because her body was beginning to feel so heavy and malleable. So.receptive.

  At this his eyes hardened, his brows lowered in anger. “I am not kind and I don’t want your gratitude!” He said in a grave menacing voice.

  She lifted her eyes again to him, startled by his tone. She looked at him with wide eyes. “I...” But the words got stuck on her throat.