by Nalini Singh
He wanted something more, though if pressed, he wouldn’t have been able to say exactly what it was that was missing from his life. He just knew that despite his sexual frustration, no woman had tempted him to break his self-imposed celibacy.
Until now.
Charlotte Ashton had reawakened the craving, a craving sharper than ever before. He might’ve put the strength of his need down to his long period of abstinence, except that compared to the sensual shimmer between him and Charlotte, all his previous relationships had been mere shadows.
She was…unique, he thought, clasping his hands behind his head as he lay in the guest bedroom allocated to him by his hostess. Apparently, it had once been Walker Ashton’s room. All traces of the other man were now gone. A pity, Alexandre mused. Perhaps he might’ve divined something about Charlotte from her brother.
Both his fascination and frustration with her had been mounting since this morning. For the first time in over a year, he’d seen a woman whom he couldn’t get out of his head and she was as wary as a butterfly, as wide-eyed and innocent as a teenager. He wondered if she were truly as innocent as she appeared. Something low in him tightened in expectation and…possession.
Surprise had him sucking in a sharp breath.
Alexandre had never been a possessive man, had never wanted to be, not after the lessons of his childhood. He knew just how changeable women were, knew that a man couldn’t rely on them, beautiful and lovely though they might be. While he’d appreciated and enjoyed their seductive femininity, he’d always kept a safe emotional distance between himself and his lovers.
Even the single time he’d forgotten that vow in the headlong rush of youthful emotion, part of him had remained separate. His fiancée, Celeste’s defection had hurt him but he’d been far from devastated.
But now, a deeply slumbering part of him was waking and it felt like truth. This possessive tyrant was a part of his psyche that he’d forcibly restrained for a lifetime but it refused to be silenced any longer. The tyrant had sensed Charlotte’s compelling scent and decided she belonged to him. Without compromise.
Smiling into the darkness, Alexandre accepted the possessiveness rushing through him, reveling in the powerful emotion after months of jaded weariness. This unabating hunger was uncharted territory, but he welcomed the dangers which lay ahead.
“Charlotte, ma petite,” he whispered into the heavy darkness. “I shall enjoy our dance.”
He spent most of the following day in discussions with James, the head winemaker. To Alexandre’s relief, the other man was in no way threatened by his presence. James knew he was good at what he was employed to do—create popular Ashton wines. Alexandre’s purpose at the estate was entirely different.
They began with an intensive tour of the winery, including the basement cellars. Alexandre was particularly interested in the nature and size of the barrels used to age Ashton vintages, given their affect on the amount of oxygen that reached the maturing wine.
The rest of the time was taken up with an investigation of the fermentation tanks and discussions on technical matters such as sulphurification and cooling. This was necessary background—before he could advise Trace about the future, he had to understand how the winery operated now.
When he finally called it a day, he had barely enough time for a quick shower before heading to Charlotte’s. To his pleasure, she was waiting outside for him, checking things in the outdoor gardens that surrounded her enchanted cottage.
He walked over, taking in the exquisite sight of her in well-worn blue jeans and a short-sleeved white shirt. Detailed with lace and skimming close to her body, the shirt was enticingly feminine. “Bonjour, Charlotte.”
Having seen him arrive, she wasn’t startled, but wariness shadowed her eyes. “Hi.”
“Shall we?” With another woman, he would’ve touched her lower back, or perhaps taken her arm, but with Charlotte, he had a feeling that even such a small advance would be moving too fast.
After a minute hesitation, she began to walk beside him along the lane she used to cycle up to the estate house. There was more than enough daylight left for him to watch his intriguing, mysterious companion.
“You must know much about the vines, having grown up on the estate.” He forced himself to keep his tone conversational and light despite the sensual tension that shivered between them.
Beside him, Charlotte moved her shoulders in a shrug that tried to be careless but was just a little too tense. At the same time, something flickered in her expression and he got the impression that she didn’t like talking about the world she inhabited.
“I don’t know that much.” She looked up to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t really interest me. I’ve picked up bits and pieces over the years.”
“You’re interested only in flowers?” He paused and she did the same, turning to face him.
“Not only. But mostly.” A smile spread across her face. “I will admit that I love the vineyard at this time of year.”
“Why?” He spoke softly, unwilling to trigger her previous wariness when she appeared to be relaxing.
“It’s the fact that they’re coming to life.” Her fingers caressed the edges of a new leaf. Desire spiked—would she stroke her man as sweetly? “Everything’s just beginning and there are so many possibilities in the air.”
He was captivated by the fleeting glimpse of the woman hidden behind the self-contained quietness. “Yes, the possibilities are endless.”
Her cheeks bloomed a soft pink and he knew she understood that they were no longer talking about the vines. Instead of shying away, she said, “The choices we make now have to be the right ones, though—otherwise the damage to the harvest could be substantial.”
“Perhaps that’s true,” he said, delighted by her willingness to at least consider the idea of taking their relationship further. “But there are also times when chances must be taken.”
“It’s safer to follow the known path.”
His lips quirked at the challenge. “Safe approaches produce palatability, nothing more. I prefer my wine to be far more full-bodied, a symphony of aroma and taste to delight the senses. Do you not, chérie?”
“Yes, I do.” There was a dreamy sensuality to her voice that he knew had come about because of his words, and he reveled in it. “I don’t know much about winemaking.”
“I can teach you everything. Ask me any question you wish.”
She parted her lips, as if to speak. And that was all it took. Awareness flashed to life between them, sudden and blinding. Her eyes widened but she didn’t back away as he’d half expected. Instead, invitation trembled in the lushness of her mouth.
He’d told himself to be patient—to coax, not push—but at that moment he couldn’t remember any of his own warnings. Desire washed over him in a powerful wave, obliterating caution. Reaching out, he cupped her cheek with one hand and bent his head. Without any prompting, her lips parted even further, disintegrating his control.
She was soft and tasted like his darkest dreams. The decadent flavor of her was at odds with her innocent eyes and it intoxicated him. He’d intended only a sip but found himself delving deeper, asking for more. For a stunning moment of sensory pleasure, she responded with desire as open and wild as his.
But the moment was far too short. Making a tiny sound, she jerked away. “What…?” Confusion muddled her gaze as she touched her kiss-wet lips with one trembling hand, the other flat on his chest.
He could see that she wasn’t ready to deal with the implications arising from the stunning sensuality of their first kiss. The rapid entanglement of their senses had shaken him and he was by far the more experienced party. He couldn’t blame her for looking like the world had just crumbled from under their feet.
“It was only a kiss.” He kept his hands to his sides, though he wanted nothing more than to hold her. “It was of no moment.” He’d meant to reassure her, but knew he’d said the wrong thing when she stumbled back a step, bruised hurt in h
er eyes.
“I’m afraid you have the wrong idea about me, Mr. Dupree.” Tears glittered but her soft tone was suddenly without compromise. “Find another woman for your kisses of no moment. I’m not interested in relieving your boredom while you’re here.”
“Charlotte.” He wondered if she’d react any better to the truth—that though they’d barely met, he hungered for her like he’d never hungered for another woman.
From the instant he’d seen her, his body had recognized hers and ached for completion. What they’d felt in that kiss had been a sign of the sensual surrender to come, something his innocent lover was in no way prepared to accept.
“Don’t.” She began to back away toward her home. “I shouldn’t have come with you.”
The words cut him. “I would never harm you.”
“It’s what men like you do,” she whispered and then she was gone.
He could’ve caught up in seconds but knew that any chase would be futile. She was in no mood to listen. In an attempt to protect her, he’d wounded her pride and made her feel less of a woman. And he was still smarting from her final words.
What did she know about men like him? Did she place him in the same category as Spencer Ashton? Anger flared. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, he began to stride back toward the estate house. He’d ask someone to come down tomorrow and retrieve the golf cart. Right now, he needed to work off both his anger and a fair dose of sexual tension.
It’s what men like you do.
Maybe she was right. He had no intention of offering her forever, and she was the kind of woman for whom forever had been created.
But, as he’d decided last night, he wasn’t going to let her push him away, either. Not when this thing between them blazed with life on both sides. Charlotte Ashton belonged to Alexandre Dupree—no matter what she’d tried to convince herself of after being singed by the heat of that kiss.
Three
Charlotte wasn’t known for her temper, but she was good and mad as she entered the cottage and slammed the door. How dare he kiss her in a way that melted her bones and then say it was of no moment? How could he not have felt what she had? His reaction had humiliated her, made her feel like that gawky, lonely teenager all over again. And it had made her angry.
She might not be as sophisticated as him, but she had her pride and it wasn’t something that she’d let any man disparage. As far as she was concerned, Alexandre Dupree could find himself a new toy. It no longer mattered that before their kiss, she’d found herself becoming more and more comfortable in his presence.
Oh, he’d still made her stomach flutter with nerves and her femininity sit up and take notice, but she’d begun to lose her shyness. Each time he’d turned those dark French eyes on her, she felt herself coming to life as a woman.
It was just as well that this had ended before it began. She’d said her final words to him in anger, but they were true. He was a powerful, experienced male used to beautiful women and discreet affairs. He’d break her heart if she let him near her.
After giving them both a night to calm down, Alexandre had intended to seek out Charlotte first thing that morning. However, the minute he appeared at breakfast, Trace informed him that an in-depth tour of the vineyard had been organized for him, to be followed later that afternoon by a tasting of Ashton wines.
Unwilling to reveal his interest in Charlotte and further complicate an already complicated situation, he accepted the plans with good grace. The tour of the vineyard calmed his soul. However, the tasting was a disaster—the sweet aroma of Charlotte filled his senses, allowing nothing else to filter through.
No woman had ever affected him like this. He wasn’t sure he liked being fascinated so completely, but he was sure that he wanted the object of his fascination in his arms.
Finally free of all his obligations, he drove to the cottage as evening was falling. To his surprise, Charlotte wasn’t home tucked up safe and warm. Frowning, he walked over to the greenhouse, wondering if she was babying her hothouse flowers.
However, only a single light burned in the greenhouse—it was unlikely she was there. He quickly walked around to make sure. Because of the layout, it was impossible to see from one end of the greenhouse to the other, especially toward the back where her gardens took over.
He was turning to leave the garden area when something shiny caught his eye. Curious, he retraced his steps. It took him a few moments to spot the blue notebook half hidden beneath a trailing sweep of lush greenery. It lay on the small wooden bench beside the fern garden—the steel spine had reflected the light and captured his attention.
Thinking that Charlotte wouldn’t like it if her notes got wet when the garden’s sprinkler system activated, he picked up the slender volume and slipped it into the inner pocket of his lightweight jacket. He’d dressed semi-formally, intending to take Charlotte to dinner. He had every confidence in his ability to charm her out of her temper.
When he strode out, he was startled to see a light being turned on in the cottage. Scowling, he crossed the distance between the two buildings and knocked.
It swung open after a small pause. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes dark and unwelcoming.
He was hit by the utterly unsophisticated urge to haul her to his chest and teach her to never again ask him such a silly question. If she believed him to be a man who gave up easily, then she was in for a surprise.
But used to keeping his emotions under control, he only leaned lazily against the doorjamb, crowding her back into the house. “I came to see you, ma petite. You left me in such anger yesterday—I didn’t wish to cause you pain.”
“You didn’t. I’m fine.”
Reaching up, he captured her chin between his fingertips. “Where have you been? Why didn’t I see you on the way here?”
She pulled her face away. “None of your business.”
He immediately knew that demands would get him nowhere. Anger had given Charlotte the confidence she’d previously lacked around him. Yet this stubborn woman enticed him even more. “I worried for you.”
Her eyes softened, exposing the gentle heart of her. “You shouldn’t have. I went downtown to do some shopping. You probably didn’t see me coming home because I walked through the vineyard instead of using the lane.”
“In the dark? You walked, what is the distance—” he frowned in thought “—more than two miles in the dark?”
“I know this land like the back of my hand and it’s barely two miles, not over two miles.”
He wasn’t appeased. “Charlotte, if I were not a patient man, I would be inclined to be very harsh with you for taking such a chance. You know nothing about the temporary workers who may be about.” He fought the surge of protectiveness that he had no right to display. Gritting his teeth, he told himself that that would soon be rectified. Then he could look after her as she was meant to be looked after.
“Who said you’re a patient man?” Charlotte muttered.
Her feminine temper seemed to have thawed under his concern and when he laced the fingers of one hand through hers, she didn’t immediately move to tug them away. He imagined he could feel the quickening beat of her heart through their linked hands.
“I have the patience of a saint,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Else I would give up trying to coax you and just kidnap you to my chalet deep in the Swiss mountains.”
Fascination glimmered in her eyes.
Leaning over until their lips almost touched, he whispered, “Once I had you all to myself, I would do things to you that would make your toes curl.” When her breath caught, he continued, “That kiss was of very great moment—you know that and so do I. Forgive me for trying to lessen it. Come, chérie, don’t be angry with me.”
Alexandre’s silkily seductive voice rubbed along Charlotte’s nerve endings, setting them afire. It was a potent weapon of seduction, designed to reduce a woman to nothing more than a sensate being, greedy and needy. For a moment, her body swa
yed toward him.
She believed him about the value of the single kiss they’d shared. She understood why he’d come looking for her when they’d barely met. She understood why he felt he had the right to demand her business, why his maleness sought to brand her with his mark.
That kiss had been far more than anything so simple as a kiss. It had been a claiming and the shocking thing was, it had been in no way one-sided. Barely a breath from his lips, she made the mistake of looking into those dark, enigmatic eyes. There was such hunger there, such possession, such need.
Fear spiked.
With a painful start she realized that she could never be enough for this magnificent man. Alexandre needed a woman supremely confident of her own sexuality, her own feminine appeal, a woman ready to accept the invitation in his eyes and partner him in the most intimate of dances. Charlotte wasn’t even close.
Her body froze. “Please,” she whispered, unable to hide the ache inside her. “Please go.”
Stay, her heart whispered. Stay, her body moaned. Stay. But of course, she couldn’t say that. Only in her dreams could she captivate a man like Alexandre and fulfill the sensual demands he would make of her as his woman.
“Charlotte.” His fingers refused to release hers. “Do you really believe that I’m a man who hurts women?”
It was the moment’s vulnerability in his tone that got to her. “No. You…you tempt women.”
“Let me tempt you.” His voice alone was temptation enough, the heat in his eyes pure sorcery.
Fighting the sensual pull between them with everything she had, she tugged away her hand and tried to close the door. “I’m sorry but this can’t happen.” With every word she spoke, she felt more and more the coward. The urge to tell him that what she already felt for him scared her, was almost overwhelming.
“Why not?” He blocked the doorway, big and proud.
Swallowing, she said, “You can’t give me what I need. You can’t be the man I need.” What she needed from a man was a kind of surrender that strong, dominant Alexandre Dupree would never agree to. And even if he did, she’d still be left with her inadequacies.