“I’ve sort of got this boyfriend. Well, he’s not exactly my boyfriend; I’ve broken up with him. In fact I don’t think we were ever actually going out. Anyway. His name is Sebastian, Count of Ledenfeld, and my father loves him and wants me to marry him so that I’ll be a Countess. Then he can tell everyone at his club that his daughter is a Countess.” Zani paused for breath.
“I see, so you went out with this man to please your father.”
“Um. I suppose. That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”
Corbin shrugged noncommittally. “Not particularly.”
“No, it is terrible. I know that. I’ve known all along. He is the clammiest, drippiest, most shudderingly awful person I’ve ever come across, and I put up with him, just for my father. It’s so pathetic.”
“He can’t have been that bad,” said Corbin evenly.
“Oh but he is,” Zani assured him. “Always having two glasses of wine and trying to feel me up.” She winced, realising her nervous babble had taken her into muddy waters. She stopped talking, unwilling to get into the nitty-gritty of the clammy fumblings of Sebastian with someone she’d been kissing only a few minutes before.
“I’ve had two glasses of wine.”
The words hung it the air, their challenge clear. Busy thinking of a suitable put-down, then realising the time for put-downs had hurtled past, Zani groped for something to say. The clock, far off in the house, began to chime again. Silence fell between them and she counted all the way to twelve.
“Midnight,” she said, straightening from the curl she’d slumped into. “Listen. Is it me or has the wind dropped?”
“I don’t know,” he said. That predatory, wanting look was back in his eyes. “The weather is of no importance. Right now, it is just you and me, and an empty house.”
Zani stopped thinking about the weather. In fact she stopped thinking about anything at all, except for the desire that began to unfold in the pit of her stomach. One night. How much harm can one night do?
Knowing she should probably be attempting to resist him, she tipped her head and smiled invitingly. It was all she needed to do.
He took the invitation, leant toward her, and their lips met. The world and its myriad problems receded into a distant haze. They only had thoughts for each other.
Corbin couldn’t decide if he was making the biggest mistake of his life, or the best decision. But what he did know was that Zani, finally, wanted him to kiss her. He’d admit, he was starting to get tired of stealing them. She tasted like red wine. The warm softness of her mouth opened beneath his and he let her draw him in.
The tense desire that had been nagging at him since he first saw her moved inexorably from a dull throb to an incessant pulse. He wanted to be in her, on her, over her, all at once. He wanted to possess her.
He’d never felt such relentless, uncontrollable desire. Lust, pure lust. He who’d dined with plastic models and eager, beautiful society girls, now found himself utterly consumed by an intriguing, unpredictable person. Who, he made the happy discovery, wasn’t wearing any underthings.
“Mon dieu, cherie,” he muttered as he slid a hand tantalisingly along her bare stomach.
Zani didn’t care who’d done what to whom. The problems and insecurities that plagued her, had, for a small slice of time, faded away. From the moment Corbin had kissed her, she’d ceased to trouble herself with anything but the feel of his body against hers. With aching anticipation she willed his exploring hand higher.
“Touch me,” she groaned against his mouth, arching up against him. He obliged, rubbing a thumb over the soft nipple that begged for attention. It instantly hardened, and he pinched, ever so gently. White light filled Zani’s mind, and she cried out.
“Please.” Keeping up the gentle pressure, he ducked his head and began to suck gently. She gasped, and he bit down softly.
“You like?” Corbin raised his head, watching her.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, then, realising she should be sounding more ladylike, “I mean stop, we should…” but Corbin ignored her, dipping his head to the other nipple, paying it merciless attention.
Zani decided to stop worrying about being ladylike. Twisting her hands in the cushions of the sofa she writhed against him. Loud and unashamed. Just when she didn’t think she could stand another moment, he shifted, plundering her mouth, kissing her with an intensity that stole her breath. He was unrelenting.
His hand travelled slowly beneath the waistband of the tracksuit pants. Zani felt rather than heard his growl of approval as he met nothing but naked Zani.
She broke off their kiss and stared deep into his eyes. Feel me, touch me. I’m giving myself to you. He seemed to sense what she thought. Shifting slightly he moved his hand against her. Zani ceased to be able to think at all.
After a time, the fire began to burn low and the outside chill began to creep into the opulent room. They moved together, in unhesitating agreement through the dark corridors of the huge sad house, to the room that had been Zani’s since she’d been a teenager.
A huge four poster bed welcomed them. Corbin peeled off the top she wore, bending to gently nibble her sensitive nipples which hardened in the cold air. She gasped, caught between pleasure and pain.
He lifted his head. Tension vibrated from him. “Zani, I want you so badly. I’ve waited so long.” Kissing gently along her neck, he ran his hands down over the smooth skin of her back. The huge tracksuit pants fell to the floor, with a whisper of nylon.
Zani didn’t need asking twice. Trying not to fumble or shiver, she unbuttoned the shirt he wore, and slid it from his shoulders. She had more trouble with the tight t-shirt, and he stripped it off in a fluid movement then tossed it on the floor.
“Don’t get cold,” he said, and she slipped gratefully into the bed. Within moments he joined her, sliding under the sheets. Zani ran a hand over his chest. His skin felt like it was on fire, though goose bumps followed her touch.
He kissed her again, pushing her gently onto her back, ravishing her mouth with a barely constrained urgency. She could feel the desire pulsing through him. He wanted her badly, and was slowly losing his self control. For a moment she felt almost frightened by his power, but it was swiftly followed by a heady sense of her own control. She’d made him feel like this. He wanted only her. With her hand on his shoulder she urged him closer.
“Now, I want you, please.”
He didn’t need inviting twice.
She arched against him, eyes closed in concentration.
“Look at me,” he commanded, and she opened her eyes. He watched her intently and then bit back a gasp, as he poured himself into her.
They spent the long dark night discovering an inextricable link. A passion that exploded between them, time and time again.
Corbin woke late. A noise like a breath or a sigh caught his attention, and he quickly opened his eyes. For a moment he was disorientated, then a large hairy mole swam into focus. It perched precariously above thin lips curved into a broad grin.
“Mrs. Stewart, I presume,” he said laconically. The room was light, and Zani was nowhere to be seen.
“Aye, lad.” The grin widened as the beady brown eyes travelled down the length of Corbin’s bare chest and lingered with interest at the edge of the bed covers which, mercifully, were firmly tucked around his hips. Unused to such a thorough inspection, particularly from someone the same age as his grandmother, Corbin resisted the impulse to pull the sheet up under his arms in a delicate, maidenly fashion.
He scooted up to sitting, making sure the bed covers stayed in place, and tried to decide what to do next. Thus far his life had not equipped him with knowledge of the etiquette for dealing with elderly retainers after a night of incredible passion with the lady of the house. Somehow he doubted Mrs. Stewart would have an opinion on the matter, either.
“Cup of tea?” She finished her inspection and bustled over to a small table. She was as broad as she was high, and wrapped in a large apron. Perfec
tly terrifying. Corbin cautiously decided to treat the situation as he would any social engagement, and at the same time wondered a little wildly where Zani was.
“White with two sugars. Merci.”
“Nasty blow last night.” For a shocked moment Corbin wondered what she was talking about.
“Oh. The Storm. Oui. Zani and I had to take shelter here. It was far too dangerous on the road.”
“Yes, she mentioned that.” Mrs. Stewart handed him the cup and hovered by the bed.
“Oh, so you’ve seen her today, then?” he asked a little awkwardly.
“Aye,” said Mrs. Stewart neutrally. That appeared to be the end of that conversation, and Corbin wondered if he was supposed to introduce a new topic. The Futures Market, perhaps, or maybe the current state of British school dinners (a subject that the English seemed obsessed with).
“You’ll do, lad.” She patted his leg through the cover, and he did his utmost not to flinch away. She seemed to be working up to something.
“I’ve known Zani since she was born. A beautiful wee child she was, happiest little thing with the dearest nature, unlike that harridan of a brother of hers. Sour and selfish from the day he arrived on the earth.” Corbin wondered where she was going with this. Surely she didn’t usually give naked strangers the family history. At least he hoped not.
“But everything changed when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. T’were a terrible time. Her father simply couldn’t deal with the thought of losing her, and from that moment forth he shut everyone out. The family has never recovered.”
“She mentioned it,” said Corbin.
“Well, then,” said Mrs. Stewart with just a hint of irritation. “You’ll know all about it. Still, normally that one is tighter than a drum. It’s a rare thing for her to confide.”
“Yes. She doesn’t seem to trust anyone. She keeps trying to make me hate her…”
Mrs. Stewart’s eyes narrowed and the thin lips pressed themselves tight. “Hush now.”
Corbin hushed.
“I have never seen hair nor breath of a decent man around her. Just that awful Count of Ledenfeld her fool of a father keeps trying to foist on her. Nasty piece of work he is. Just after her father’s fortunes. Had a run in with one of the village girls a while back. Nasty business.”
Here she hesitated, frowning and shaking her head.
Corbin kept quiet.
“Well, you can imagine my surprise when all of a sudden you turn up, spending the night and thinking you know so much about her. Let me tell you, young man, there is only one thing you need to know about her, and that is that I will not tolerate you hurting her.”
She gave Corbin a look he found he couldn’t break away from. He fidgeted and hated himself for it. She cackled suddenly, and the moment passed. Corbin tried hard not to think of Shakespeare’s witches dancing around their cauldron.
There was a movement outside the door. Zani! Salvation!
“You mind me,” Mrs. Stewart threatened. Shoving the cup of tea into his hand, she moved with surprising agility out the door.
Corbin eyed the tea then put it on the small lace-covered table beside the bed. He wasn’t sure if he’d been welcomed to the family or threatened with his life. Either way he wasn’t taking any chances with the tea.
There was a brief murmured conversation outside the door then it swung open. Zani strode in. Corbin’s breath caught. She looked like the epitome of every schoolboy’s fantasy.
“Mon Dieu,” he muttered. Her hair seemed lighter than usual, more blonde, and framed her face. Normally pale, her cheeks had a pink flush and her lips, after a night of thorough kissing, looked red and bruised. She wore a plain navy top, but her long legs were accentuated by a pair of jodhpurs and mud-splattered long boots.
“Morning.” She smiled shyly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone in the house with Emily, she’s a bit…well, original. But I love her. I’ve been ’round the grounds, to see if there’s much damage, from the storm. I thought I’d leave you to sleep.”
He gestured to her jodhpurs and boots. “You have a horse here?”
“Yes, Rembrandt. He’s about a hundred in horse years. Dad reckons he looks picturesque in the field with Rubens the donkey. But I didn’t ride. They’re just for decoration. I walked. This is the only outfit I had. I keep everything else at my place, in Apuldram…”
Corbin barely heard what she said. He was far too distracted by the tight jodhpurs and the knee high boots. “Come back to bed, please,” he almost moaned.
Their eyes met, and Corbin couldn’t look away from her. She approached slowly across the room and he held out his hand to her. The moment their fingertips touched, he pulled her down on the bed next to him and they began to kiss.
Later—a lot later—it came time for Corbin and Zani to part.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you back?” asked Corbin as they stood outside the house.
“No. I’ll use one of the cars from here to get home. But we need to talk. Corbin, there’s so much I have to tell you.” She had to explain to him everything that’d been happening. It’d be better if it came from her. Then, perhaps, he wouldn’t be angry and would understand.
“I’ll call you at your little house. We’ll make a time and sort things out,” he reassured her.
He gave her a toe-curling kiss. “I have to go. You’re amazing, Zani. Don’t forget it.”
With that he took himself and his four-wheel drive back to Chichester. Zani stood and watched him leave, suppressing the feeling she might never see him again. He’d call. If he didn’t, well, she’d just call him. Maybe he wasn’t madly in love with her, but they could be friends. She’d happily settle for friends, just to have some small part in his life.
The previous night had convinced her of two things. Firstly that Corbin had nothing whatsoever to do with the secrets that’d been leaked from Sunberri. He was an honourable man and if company take-overs were on his agenda, then she was sure he wouldn’t be underhand about it. Secondly, that there was a depth to passion she’d been oblivious to. With a contented smile she returned to the house and a quietly pleased Mrs. Stewart.
“I’m going to borrow one of Dad’s cars,” Zani told Mrs. Stewart as she entered the kitchen. One of her favourite places in the whole house, it always smelled of new bread or one of Mrs. Stewart’s casseroles. The Aga kept the place blissfully warm, and after a tedious day at school she used to end up at the scrubbed kitchen table, doing her homework while Mrs. Stewart pottered around.
“Oh, aye, which were you thinking of?” Mrs. Stewart glanced up from the bread that she kneaded. She had a very strange expression.
“Which one don’t you think he’ll miss?” asked Zani, fully aware that if, as she planned, she took any of the cars without permission there’d be hell to pay.
“Zani, love, they’re all gone. Except for that Land Rover the groundsmen used to use. I don’t think anyone wanted it, not even for parts.”
“What do you mean?” asked Zani in astonishment.
“I mean that a few weeks ago men came and took all of the cars.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
“I overhead him on the phone to Paul saying he’d sold the cars and that he’d transfer the money as soon as he could.”
“What?” Zani sat down heavily.
“I thought you knew, love. He’s let all the staff go, no cleaners, no maintenance crew, no gardeners. Well. Except for Peeves. Peeves, running the entire garden, can you imagine? The man’s eighty-five if he’s a day.”
“I had no idea.” Stunned, Zani tried to process what exactly Mrs. Stewart meant.
“Love, you’re as white as a sheet. Here, I’ll sort you a cup of tea.”
“No, I’m fine. Tell me what you overheard on the phone.”
Mrs. Stewart rinsed sticky dough off her hands and put the kettle on before she replied.
“Well, not that I was listening, mind. But your fath
er said he’d transfer the money and told Paul not to worry, that he’d sell Everwood if need be.”
“My God. What has Paul done? Surely all that money hasn’t gone into Sunberri?”
“Sunberri?” asked Mrs. Stewart, putting a steaming mug of tea in front of Zani. Absently sipping it and burning her tongue, Zani quickly outlined her father’s attempt at insider trading.
“Are you sure you didn’t hear anything else, anything at all on the phone?”
“Yes, love. But, when your dad hung up he was in one of his tempers. He called for me. Of course I took my time, so as not to suggest I’d been eavesdropping. And when I arrived, he said, ‘Emily, you are to take all the vodka in the house and pour it down the sink. We’ll have no more of that muck under this roof’. Then he began to laugh and laugh. I mean, he’s always been a bit unstable, like, but this time I really thought I’d be calling the men-in-white-coats.”
“Did you do it? Pour away the vodka, I mean.”
“Nah! Course not. I’ve recently developed a taste for Black Russians.”
“What, instead of whiskey? Wonders never cease. Still. It’s a strange coincidence, my latest and thus far most difficult client is Russian.” Zani frowned. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to get out of here, somehow. I’ve a meeting with him on Tuesday, and I haven’t even started on the preliminary sketches for his boat.”
“I’ll drive you to the station, love. You can tell me all about Hot Stuff that left this morning!”
“Emily!” Zani laughed.
British Rail had not coped well with the gale and it took Zani hours to get to Chichester. Unable to imagine how she’d manage until her car had been fixed, she hired one. She made the familiar trip to Funtington, where Karen lived with her husband, a wealthy developer, and her five children. Karen worked, as she often told Zani, to keep herself sane.
The sky was thin and blue, and when Zani pulled up outside Karen’s large, disheveled house she could hear the throb of pop music coming from one of the upper rooms. She picked her way over several varieties of sporting equipment, including, but not limited to, lacrosse sticks, football boots, mountain bikes, running shoes and various, worrying piles of jerseys and padded protective clothing. As she walked past, Zani was sure one of the piles moved, and another was definitely steaming.
Secret Intentions Page 14