by Lynne Graham
He let his tongue flick over the achingly sensitive peak and a strangled whimper escaped her as her whole body pushed up to him in an unstoppable wave of response. He lifted his head again, glittering gold eyes sweeping over her as he wrenched her free of the tangled remnants of silk confining her legs. He ran a sure hand back up the tightening length of one slender thigh and discovered the moist warmth of her most delicate flesh, and the spiralling excitement that he could evoke with the tiniest caress sent her ever more violently out of control.
'No, I didn't think you would hit me...' Alex murmured softly, chillingly.
She fought through the wanton layers of her own suffocating pleasure and struggled to think again. 'What...?' she mumbled, relocating her voice an equal challenge.
'I touch you and you wouldn't hear a fire alarm. I touch you at any time of the day or the night and it's instant surrender. You've taught me that in two short weeks. All the sex that I want, whenever I want.' 'A-Alex, what are you—?'
'Saying?' Smouldering golden eyes locked with hers with icy precision. 'Dio... I am not complaining, bella mia. But what a waste of a year. I was needlessly cautious to a degree that now embarrasses me. Sexually harassing you between the filing cabinets would have been a hugely entertaining exercise... You can't keep your hands off me even in the middle of a fight! So if you have to languish over the pretty blond boy you lost, why should I be offended? Between the sheets you're still incredibly willing to satisfy my most basic needs.. .and your own.'
Eyes wide, Sara was rigid with shock until it belatedly dawned on her for the very first time that Alex might actually be jealous—a suspicion that made his verbal offensive wash over her. 'I wasn't thinking about Brian,' she said quietly, intently, wanting to convince him, and she would have said a great deal more with very little encouragement.
But she didn't get the encouragement. In coolly insolent response, Alex scanned the length of her naked body, so trustingly open to his gaze, before he met her anxious eyes again. 'Not right now, no,' he conceded with a pointed derision that was like a slap in the face. 'But, you see, I expect your full attention out of bed too. Feel free to agonise as much as you like over Shorter... but from now on I suggest you indulge your sentiments in private. Your tragedy-queen mood with its accompanying deathly silence sets my teeth on edge.'
And Sara shrank inside herself, the illusion that he might have been becoming jealous of that former love brutally, instantaneously dissolved. Her struggle to hide her growing distress earlier had meant only one thing to Alex once she had denied that Claudia had played any part in her change of mood. He had assumed that Brian was behind her withdrawal—a belief that had provoked not jealousy but coldly sardonic impatience and reproof. Love him all you like, was the message she'd received. Just don't bore me to death with your silly emotionalism.
And that was when Sara felt unbearably, hideously humiliated. She read the other message that Alex was giving her too: her undeniable ability to behave like a wanton slut in bed was just about the only thing he did appreciate about her! With a frantic hand she snatched at the sheet and dragged it clumsily over bared skin that now shamed her. She curved defensively away from him, her flesh clammy. Alex used her own body like a weapon against her. He made her feel cheap. 'Cold and detached,' Pete had said. She stared strickenly into those stunningly golden but frighteningly unreadable eyes and shivered compulsively, as if she were looking into the jaws of death, repulsed by her own vulnerability.
Alex frowned, muttered something fierce in Italian and rugged her firmly back against his warm, muscular length. In bitter pain, she felt the familiar surge of her own body against his and knew that he could make her want him no matter what he did, and that chilled and mortified her even more. She froze in instinctive rejection. 'Don't touch me.'
His strong muscles clenched hard. 'Sara...I'm finding out that I can't live with being the consolation prize. If you want to stay married to me, you have to put the love of your life behind you,' he spelt out with hard emphasis.
Reacting to the part of that threat which related to their marriage, Sara turned white. 'As you did with Elissa?' she whispered feverishly.
His ebony brows drew together. 'Madre di Dio... what—?'
'Because you can't say you put her behind you, can you?' Sara suddenly launched at him an entire octave higher.
'Elissa doesn't come into this!' Alex dismissed with raw, stinging impatience.
Sara turned her head away, her heart thumping at the foot of her throat. 'I heard someone say... at our wedding... that I looked like her...'
The words lay there between them. The pulsing silence seemed to stretch endlessly. She was holding her breath. 'Alex?' she finally prompted very, very tautly.
There was slight movement beside her and the lights went out.
'No comment,' Alex murmured without any expression at all.
The response stunned Sara. She lay there rigid in the darkness but Alex made no further move towards her. However, there was nothing tense about the drowsy sigh of positively indolent satisfaction that escaped him as he shifted against the fine linen sheets and then lay with the stillness of complete relaxation—a reality soon borne out by the deep, even sound of his breathing as he fell asleep... while Sara lay awake. The honeymoon was over.
Alex dealt her a measuring look in the limousine carrying them across London. 'You look tired. You should go straight back to bed.' 'I'm fine, I have to unpack— ' 'The staff will do the unpacking. You might as well rest. I'll be late tonight,' he told her.
Sara stiffened. 'Then I'll go down to Ladymead, see ,.JW the work is going.'
'I should check out the workforce first,' Alex murmured with lazy mockery, dark eyes flicking over her strained face. 'If a brawny plasterer takes off his shirt in your radius, I might be history before I know it.'
'Very funny, Alex.' Flames of colour burnished in her pallor.
'I never did tell you who my first love was—' 'You mean your memory goes back that far?' Alex smiled, his mood infuriatingly buoyant. 'I was twelve. She was thirteen. I lied about my age. She blushed every time she looked at me. She had skin like a peach, black curly hair and braces on her teeth. For the whole of one week I was enraptured.' 'The longevity of your affections is remarkable.' Alex laughed appreciatively, his dark, flashing eyes colliding with hers. 'When she found out I was younger, she cut me dead!'
An involuntary smile crept across the tense line of her mouth, a giant wave of love surging up inside her. She veiled her shadowed eyes immediately but she was angry with herself now for lying awake all night brooding. Alex had never promised to love her, had he? He had said that he could make her happy and he had, but he had also shattered her illusion that she could somehow have more. Maybe she had needed that lesson. It had been very foolish of her to imagine that simply because she had fallen in love Alex might have too.
So she did remind him of Elissa... but it was a well-known fact that people were often attracted by the same particular physical type in human relationships. Why should it be anything more sinister than that? That resemblance might initially have drawn Alex's attention to her but he was far too strong a character to have married her to live out some ridiculous fantasy. Any male who would go to such lengths would be obsessed to a degree that suggested male instability. For goodness' sake, the woman had disappeared out of Alex's life thirteen years ago, turned him off love, hurt him! Elissa had to be more of a bad memory for Alex than a good one.
An hour later she stood in the same bedroom where she had awakened in a bower of flowers almost two months earlier. As she recalled her panic and horror that morning, it didn't seem possible that she was the same person any more. She was changing, she acknowledged; she had changed. In a cheval-glass, she saw a woman sheathed in an elegant Christian Lacroix dress—a woman who looked rich and exclusive and who held her head high. But the alteration was more than one of appearance and self-image. When she was with Alex, Sara realised, she felt extraordinarily free simply t
o be herself.
And wasn't it time that she cleared up his misapprehensions about Brian? If only Alex had not witnessed her shock and distress that day! He had seen too much, got too close. It wasn't that surprising that he should still believe that she loved Brian. Not one single thing had she done to convince him otherwise. And no, Alex was not comfortable with the belief that he was the consolation prize. A rueful smile curved her lips. She didn't blame him for lashing out at her last night. They would have to talk.
Ladymead was festooned with scaffolding and satis-fyingly alive with noise and activity. The repairs and renovation work were moving right on target. There had been no major problems, nothing the architect in charge had not been able to handle. But when the current phase was over there would still be a million things to do, including decorating and furnishing. The size of the project made her head spin but Sara could hardly wait to face the challenge.
She was wandering around the kitchen when one of the workmen put his head round the door. 'There's a woman looking for you out front, Rossini!'
It was Alex's sister, Donatella. Sara stilled in momentary surprise and then walked forward smiling. 'I had no idea you were still here.'
'By the time I did my shopping, wandered round the galleries and caught up with old friends, my one-week stay easily ran over two,' Donatella admitted cheerfully.
'I saw Alex at the office and when he said you were down here I decided to join you... You don't mind?'
'I'm delighted to have the company.'
'I was dying to see it. I still can't believe my eyes. It's a wonderful old house, gloriously picturesque,' Donatella sighed appreciatively as they strolled slowly indoors. 'When Papa said that Alex had bought a ruin, we all laughed because Alex cannot bear to be uncomfortable on the domestic front. He is very spoilt that way. This dust, this dirt, this frantic upheaval would drive him crazy... but what a declaration of love that he should close his eyes to all the imperfections and buy it anyway!'
'Alex knows what I like very well.' Sara's eyes suddenly gleamed with secret amusement. Alex really hadn't needed to hedge his bets with Ladymead the day he'd proposed. She still would have married him. Perhaps it was time she told him that too. 'And he can hardly have been unaware of what was required here. The palazzo must require fairly constant maintenance.'
'But that's different. For Alex that is the home of his earliest memories. He uses it most. Papa rarely goes to Venice now,' Donatella said as they strolled round the echoing ground floor. 'He has never liked the palazzo since Alex's mother died there.'
'Did he love her so much?'
Donatella looked wry. 'He would tell you he did but then they were only together three years. I'm more cynical. With every wife but Francine he fathered another child, found his attention straying and got divorced again. I think he simply likes women too much, but he does like to think of himself as a family man.'
'His children do seem to be surprisingly close.' 'We have Alex to thank for that. He kept us all in contact with each other as we grew up... yet he had the toughest childhood. He had had three stepmothers by the time he was in his teens, none of them substitute mothers.' Donatella grimaced. 'Unfortunately for Alex, he was always very much Papa's favourite. Even my own mother resented Alex, which was sad. He was only a baby when his mother died. It was not his fault that each new wife felt insecure and then decided that her child was being passed over in his favour.'
'Maybe... maybe that's why he fell for an older woman,' Sara muttered abruptly, abstractedly. Understanding what drove Alex in all his complexity did not come easily to her. Yet she so badly wanted to know what made him the way he was: capable of such immense warmth and sensitivity and then such paradoxical and chilling coldness.
'As a mother figure?' Donatella uttered a reluctant laugh and shook her head. 'I don't think so, Sara. Elissa clung to Alex. She leant on him. He was by far the stronger personality.'
'What was she like?'
'As a family friend, we all liked her... That is, until she became involved with Alex.' His sister compressed her lips. 'Everyone knew she was in a lousy marriage. Her husband wasn't the faithful type and she couldn't have children. I suppose she must have been very unhappy but she never complained. She worked tirelessly for charity. She was very well-known for her good works.'
'You're describing a saint.'
'A lot of people saw her in that light, so you can imagine the shocking scandal it caused when she took off with Alex. Nobody could believe it at first but I had seen her with him...' Donatella's eyes were rueful. 'He was very mature for his age, and with Alex she was a different person. It shone out of her. She couldn't hide her love. We were all very surprised when she left Alex after her husband divorced her, but to be truthful... equally relieved.'
'Why? The age difference?'
Donatella hesitated and then sighed. 'Please don't take offence... but talking about Elissa makes me feel uncomfortable. In any case, I can only repeat gossip and my own impressions as a rather judgemental teenager. Alex has never discussed Elissa with any of us.'
Sara grimaced. Tm sorry...my curiosity was running away with me.'
'Why?' her companion asked bluntly. 'Why concern yourself? It was a long time ago, an episode we were all glad to forget.' '
Put like that, her own insecurities seemed neurotic. 'And you have been good for my brother, Sara. I saw a change in Alex today. He's more relaxed, less distant, not so driven as he used to be. You don't seem to be aware of the miracle you have worked. None of us ever really expected Alex to marry. When you grow up as we all did in divided households, it is very hard to have faith in marriage.'
But Alex didn't have faith in marriage. Oh, he had mustered impressive enthusiasm for the institution when he'd proposed but Sara reckoned that that had been for her benefit. No, for Alex this marriage was an experiment, with Ladymead the selected site for a home-making field test. But he would not be at all surprised if the experiment failed and he would probably be equally quick to cut his losses if their relationship hit one too many obstacles. The knowledge made Sara suppress a shiver.
Alex strolled into the drawing room of the town house shortly after midnight to find Sara curled up in the corner of a sofa, surrounded by a pile of magazines. '1 thought you would be in bed. You waited up for me...'
An irrepressible grin slanted her mouth. 'Alex, you suggested I rested this afternoon so that I wouldn't be too tired to wait up! Or did I misinterpret my instructions?'
The faintest colour highlighted the hard slant of his cheekbones and then he laughed. 'I didn't realise I was so transparent.'
'You aren't as a rule,' she said consolingly, her softened gaze roaming over his vibrantly handsome features. 'Would you like something to eat?'
'Nothing.' He surveyed her with an intensity that made her heartbeat quicken. 'So bring me up to date on the bricks and mortar rescue mission,' he invited. 'Everything's going like clockwork.' 'When do we move?'
"That depends on how quickly I can furnish and decorate.'
'I'm amazed that you're not putting us under canvas on that field that the agent had the gross pretension to call a lawn.'
'Somehow I can't see you under canvas.' She swallowed hard and held his gaze. 'And if you don't want to live there you can sell the house when the work's finished... no hard feelings,' she asserted.
An ebony brow was elevated. 'Why?'
'I didn't decide to marry you because you promised to buy it—'
'But it helped...' ' When I was walking round Ladymead that day, I had no idea that you were adout to ask me to marry you or that there was ever likely to be any possibility of it becoming my home.'
A slow smile curved his mobile mouth. 'But at least admit that you pictured some glossy magazine image of wholesome family domesticity: log fires, dogs and cats children...'
'It seems to me that you must have been tuned into pretty much the same wavelength,' Sara protested.
'Your wavelength. I see smoke billowing out from i
nefficient chimneys, cats that scratch and dogs that bark. But that's not important if you're content. Where I live isn't important to me,' Alex returned with wry emphasis. 'As a child I learnt not to put down roots because whenever I did Sandro and I were on the move gain. The abandoned wives and kids always got what was euphemistically termed the marital home. Becoming too comfortable or too attached to the roof over my head was never a good idea.'
The sheer physical upheaval of separation and divorce had not occurred to Sara before. Now she felt guilty. She should have appreciated that Alex had lived in many different houses throughout his childhood, never in one secure home. Had each new wife insisted on a new roof? And every time Sandro had opted for another divorce Alex's world would have been thrown into chaos again.
'While you, on the other hand...' Alex studied her with keen dark eyes. 'You grew up in a house where you were made to feel like an intruder, where nothing was ever really yours and where you felt you did not belong but where you tried very hard to fit. I can understand now why you dream of making a home that is entirely your own and why that need should be so important to you. But I have to confess that I didn't understand all that a month ago.'
And it's at times like this that / understand why I love you, Sara thought. Her throat had thickened. She slid upright and covered the distance between them in seconds. Alex's arms came round her and she breathed in deep. 'If the chimneys smoke, I'll get them fixed, and we'll start out with only one small pet—'
'That would be stretching self-denial too far, cam. The mice in that house require an army of cats.'
'Pest control, Alex...and they've already been...three times,' she admitted ruefully.
With a husky laugh, Alex pulled her close and looked down at her beautiful face. 'Only one warning, bella mia... if you ever bring a wallpaper book to bed-'
'You'll put the house on the market again?' she teased as he lifted her off her feet.