Gently pushing her away at arms length, he said, "Are you all right?" He looked down, searching for injuries.
Horrified, Kris realised that he could see her nipples clearly which, despite everything, were hard, tip-tilted and pushing against the wet transparent material of her shirt.
His eyes moved lower and then he again held her close, one hand cupping a firm breast first before moving down to the soft swelling of her stomach.
"This child is mine," he whispered hoarsely. "You are my wife and this baby belongs to me." He looked deeply into her eyes. "This is our child."
Kris smiled brightly as his mouth sought hers yet again. She heard his voice, rough with emotion, whisper, "Oh, my darling." He kissed her again. "Thank, God I found you." Urgency crept into his voice as he stared around them, into the storm. "We must go; it won't be long before we're cut off. Are you all right?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
Raoul grabbed her hand and together they lurched into the teeth of the storm. Her breath became harsh with the exertion, and he put an arm around her to help her move against the force of the storm. Before long, they were in water to their knees; the waves broke against them as they struggled to move along.
"Keep going," he urged, sensing her distress. "We're nearly there."
The last hundred metres were a nightmare, and he tried hard not to sound panic stricken as she lost her footing on several occasions. At last they were across the little bay. As they clambered up the rocky sides, they looked back to see that the rough shelter where he'd found her being pounded by the heavy sea. If they had lingered a few minutes longer, they would have been totally cut off.
Raoul pulled up sharply, despite the rain that pelted down and the lightning that streaked across the sky followed by rolls of thunder. "Catch your breath a moment. Are you okay?" He looked anxiously at her strained face.
Kris put her arms across her chest, dreadfully conscious of her exposure under the thin and sodden cladding. She was still too confused by the events to comprehend his gentleness -- inwardly, she dreaded the usual angry withdrawal she knew would follow. She simply nodded her agreement.
He took her hands, oblivious of the storm. With his voice still rough and emotional, he yelled to be heard over the storm. "My Lord, Kris, you gave me such a fright. I thought I had lost you!" He pulled her hard against him and rested his cheek on her hair.
Her body was aflame at his proximity, and she felt his heavy desire as he pressed his legs against hers. Her mind was elated as well as confused by his attitude. What had happened to make him act this way?
"Come, woman, this is ridiculous. We could get ourselves killed out here." He laughed as he pulled her after him. They set off up the slope and across the rain-lashed lawns.
"I-I can't go in like this," she said, quickly. As one, they turned and headed for the veranda of the cottage. He opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter.
Somewhat surprised, she noticed that he closed the door and locked it.
"Go and shower quickly before you catch your death of cold. I'll find your robe." He gently pushed her towards the bathroom. "When you have finished, you and I have to talk, and I don't want to be disturbed. It's good no one knows we are here. Hurry now, get warm."
He led the way into the bathroom. "I'll get a towel out for me, too." Leaning over, he started the hot water.
She was relieved. In all this confusion, he didn't turn on a single light. "I know you shouldn't do this in a thunder storm, but we will have to take a chance this time. It seems to be abating, I think." He was talking conversationally as he emerged from the shower cubicle. "Now, get in there, madam."
As the warm water ran over her body, she felt the fear of the last half hour drain away, but it was replaced with another apprehensive feeling. Raoul, who never discussed anything with her, wanted to talk. Why?
After showering quickly, she put on the robe and tied it firmly around her waist. Then letting her hair fall free, she toweled it dry. To her surprise she had left a lipstick in the cupboard. As she put it on, she glanced at herself in the mirror and smiled at the colour that burned in her cheeks.
Taking a deep breath, she went back to Raoul. To her wonderment, she saw him standing by one of the windows holding the curtain back and staring into the storm. He had dried himself already and was dressed only in an oversized kikoi-style towel that he had wrapped around his waist. He had turned on one small table lamp, and she couldn't help but notice his tousled hair and deep tan, which emphasized his distinguished face. He let the curtain fall back and turned to face her.
Though his face was a mask of fury, his voice was surprisingly gentle. "What the hell were you doing out there anyway? You were damn lucky I arrived when I did. I went to the edge of the garden for a breath of air and to look at the coming storm and spotted you marching across the cove. My God, no one would have known where the devil you were. What got into you? Didn't you know it's a treacherous cove when the tide comes in?"
He seemed more concerned than angry. As he spoke she felt like a little girl being chastisted for her irresponsibility. Suddenly, the reason of why she had gone to the beach in the first place rushed back, and her lovely eyes clouded.
"Don't start crying on me," he said roughly. "Let's talk." He began to cross the room.
However, those simple, long-awaited words made the tears flow. Before she could shut the door, though, he was there, keeping it open with his foot. She said nothing, but turned and ran across the room, flinging herself face down on to the bed, shaking with her sobs.
He moved across the room toward her. He could not have said better words to make the tears come flowing freely, and she turned to run into the bedroom. Before she could shut the door, though, he was there, keeping it open with his foot. She said nothing, but turned and flung herself face down on to the bed, shaking with sobs.
"My God, Kris, stop it." She vaguely heard the baffled note in his voice.
Strong hands were on her shoulders, rolling her over until she lay on her back. When she put her hands over her face, he caught them in one hand, lifting them up against the pillows. His chest pressed against hers bringing his face only inches away. "Oh, Kris, I'm only angry because I could have lost you, but it doesn't warrant these tears. What is it, my darling...what is it?"
Words tumbled out of her, how from the beginning she had only wanted to be good at her job and please him, but had always felt that she never made the mark. How she had fought her feelings after he'd made love to her, and even let it happen again, though he had acted disgusted by the whole thing. Why she'd run away because she thought she was pregnant and didn't want to humiliate him, then her stupidity at coming back when it was a false alarm. Her feelings for PJ and her resolve that she could make her life work, even if he did marry Isabella.
Raoul did nothing to stop the torrent of words. He listened carefully as he cradled her in his arms.
"You made me so angry when you reacted so vehemently about Carl, I decided to make you think he was a man in my life and that I was going on dates. For God's sakes, Raoul, he is my half-brother, not my lover! When things got out of hand, I tried to tell you. I've been trying to tell you this for so long, and you wouldn't let me. I even tried writing you a letter, but you returned it unread. Can you even begin to imagine what it felt like when I found out that I was pregnant...that you wouldn't even consider the possibility that you were the father? I couldn't even talk to you! This whole farce is a nightmare. Then to add to it, Carl seems to pick up the phone or be at the house whenever you are around, and you go charging off again. Now Carl's wife has lost the baby they so desperately wanted and here I am...
"Oh, Raoul, I've had it! I can't live like this any more. Oh, God..." she sobbed wildly. "You made me fall in love with you and it's been such a mess. I love PJ, too, as if she were my own. I thought that time would make things right for us. What an idiot I am...."
"Stop, sweetheart, don't go on. Please, say no more. Shh..." He li
fted her against him, his face buried in her neck. He cradled her as one would comfort an ailing child. "Listen to me, it's my turn, darling," he whispered. "Oh, how I love you, and yet, I've been such a bastard to you who are so sweet and gentle. From the beginning, I've been so jealous of you. I was attracted to you the first day we met. Then that weekend you came with Luke...you seemed to have become cosy with him so soon, I got angry. I felt like I had lost you before I'd even had a chance. I know that jealousy was stupid and it cost me your trust. Later I found out how Luke had opened up to you straight away, and what you did for them....
"Then I made love to you, not under the best of circumstances, and I became furious with myself. You didn't deserve the way I acted. How could I expect you to respond? I hated myself constantly -- you needed gentleness, courting, loving, and every time I blew it. I was a pig, an absolute pig.
"Then came Carl...I hated him with a murderous feeling, like I've never felt before. I didn't give a damn who he was, and I didn't want to know. You seemed happy and vivacious with him, and as far as I was concerned, I'd lost you. I was so sure of myself before, so sure that you would be there for me when I wanted you that I felt black with anger. And like the spoilt bastard I've become, I hurled wrongful arrows at you. Oh, my darling, Luke told me some home truths today and I was mortified. The torment I've put you through! He held nothing back and I can't begin to tell you how sorry and ashamed I am. Oh, my love, have I lost you?"
She managed to free her arms as he was about to say more; she held his head, her fingers in his thick hair.
"Hush, Raoul, don't say any more, please. I can't believe this, we've both been crazy." She pulled away so that she fell against the pillows, her damp hair framing the soft pallor of her face. Her eyes were big and dark and her lips parted, the very picture of sensuality.
He looked down at her, his own face tense and drawn. He was about to speak when she placed her hand against his mouth and shook her head gently. "Don't talk, Raoul, just kiss me...please." Her words were hardly audible.
She took her hand away and for a long hard moment, his eyes wandered over her face, drinking in its beauty and love. There was something else creeping in, a heady look of desire.
Raoul's mouth parted as it came down to meet hers. Gently they touched as though in exploration, then the pressure hardened and her lips parted for his. The fire was rising as his arms tightened around her, his chest pressing against hers. Kissing her hungrily, his hand moved to open her robe. He found and cupped a breast and pulled the nipple gently between finger and thumb, causing a quiver of beautiful sensation to swarm through her. She felt a shiver of expectation; under his expert touch, her body was about to be taken to heights hitherto unknown. Hard little nipples brushed eagerly against his chest as his hand moved to the softness of her rounded belly and down between her legs. He groaned and uttered a curse, tearing his mouth away from hers, almost breaking the spell. Lifting himself away, he stared down at her white throat, unable to look her in the eye.
Suddenly, she realised his problem. He was afraid. He was afraid that he was going to take her violently again. Every time he had pulled away in anger because he'd felt he lacked self-control, and each time he'd thought he had forced his unwanted passions on her. As a result, he felt like a failure when she didn't reach the dizzying heights of desire that she craved.
She put her hands to his face before he could move away. "Look at me, Raoul." Her eyes were almost luminous with desire and her breathing had become shallow. "Would you make love to me if I asked you?"
He leaned down and pressed his lips on the nape of her neck, his voice emerging hoarsely. "Oh, Krissy, I want you so badly. But I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
"You won't, sweetheart. You never have and you never will."
He had shifted his body alongside hers, and taking an initiative she had never done before, she ran her hand over his chest and down to the centre of his pulsing desire. "Darling, make love to me, please." His groan of ecstasy stimulated her even more, but as he writhed beside her, she murmured, "I hope I'll be good enough for you. Oh, darling...."
Running his hands all over her, his mouth caressed her eyes and throat. He made to move, but suddenly she laughed -- a joyous sound -- and wriggled away.
"Oh, no you don't. I'm going to do what you did to me once." Kris pushed him playfully aside. "You get out there where I can see you, and take that towel off."
His face creased into a smile. "Yes, ma'am."
Raoul got off the bed and stood in front of it. Turning, he pulled at the towel, allowing it to fall to the floor in a clump. He stood motionless and watched her face as she let her eyes feast on the hard maleness of his body. The quick intake of her breath at the tangible sight of his blatant desire thrilled him, too.
"Oh, my love, I want you so badly," she whispered as she quickly got up and allowed her robe to fall free. Then she held her arms out to him.
It was enough; he swept her up and laid her on her back on the bed. His controlled gentleness was understated passion, and as their naked bodies touched, it was like playing with fire. He stroked and explored her body, making her arch against him with feelings she had never known. Her senses quickened at the feel of the bunched muscles on his back, rippling beneath her fingers. He teased her intimate places until she was at a fever pitch, crying out, and when he could control himself no longer, he entered her.
Raoul loved her body with his eager thrusts, his passion mounting as Kris wrapped her long legs around his. His body demanded he take her, consume her, but somewhere in the smoky haze of desire, he wanted her to come with him, to rise to the crescendo together. With supreme effort, he slowed his movements to a steady pace. It was exquisite agony.
Their mouths crushed together, feverish with desire as they whispered hoarse endearments. With that fraction of extra time, he felt a subtle change overcome her body before she started to writhe beneath him with total abandon. The floodgates of their passion opened, and they were oblivious to everything but the acute, almost painful exquisiteness of their heightened desire for one another.
There was a rushing noise in her ears and an exquisite feeling overtook her whole body as she arched hard to meet his relentless thrusts. Both of them were rushing headlong, helpless in the face of the sensual tidal wave that consumed them.
Somewhere in the distance she heard herself cry out, "Oh God, I'm coming...oh, Raoul, my darling, take me, take me..." Every fibre of her being was poised for that moment.
When he threw his head back and grunted in the final moment of his climax, he felt her reach her pinnacle as she convulsed again and again around him.
For a while they clung together, drenched with sweat and breathing hard before falling back to lie exhausted and fulfilled. After a moment, he put out his hand to move the hair from her face and felt tears on her cheeks.
"Why are you crying, sweetheart? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He levered himself up to look anxiously down into her eyes.
"Oh, no, it was so beautiful...and I am so very happy," she said huskily.
He bent his head and kissed her softly, his lips touching hers like the kiss of a feather. The teasing kiss traveled over her face, her neck and down to the tips of her breasts. When he took a nipple into his mouth, she felt that light kiss grow in passion until he was sucking strongly. Like the sudden summer storm, their passion rose once more until they were caressing each other in a fever pitch.
It was Kris' urgent fingers that sought to put him inside of her. This simple expression of her desire made him take a deep breath and whisper hoarsely, "My God, I love you...so much."
They were making love...real love. Sex for him had always been for self-satisfaction. Yet, now he wanted to satisfy her, to coax her to the earth-shattering climax he knew she was capable of achieving. This wonderful feeling of unity and love triggered a floodtide of feelings he never knew he'd had.
Raoul began thrusting powerfully and he knew they were, oh, so right together.
Ret
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Chapter Twenty-Five
When they woke hours later than usual, Kris was sure the guests would be wondering where they were. Of course, her clothes were still soaked, but Raoul helped her on with the robe, refusing to let her wear the wet garments. Once dressed -- and in his wet clothing -- they left for the main residence, creeping in through the veranda doors like naughty children. They dashed upstairs to his room. He immediately used the intercom to the kitchen.
Speaking with remarkable control, using his usual aloof tone, Raoul asked if all was well, if the kids were all right, and if there were any messages. Almeira was too shrewd a woman to ever ask questions, and obviously gave him his answers as simply as possible.
Looking grave, he said, "Almeira, do me a favour, please. Will you stay in the house with the children for another hour? Mrs. Metier and I will be going to the hospital right away."
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