Long-Distance Marriage

by Kendrick, Sharon

  ‘Thank you,’ said Alessandra, and, with as much dignity as she could muster, she picked up her suitcase and sailed out of the room towards the lift with her head held high.

  A sleek black limousine was parked at the front of the building with Babette, in her striking blue uniform, sitting behind the steering wheel. She sprang out to open the back door, a look of open curiosity on her pretty face, though she didn’t ask Alessandra any questions.

  ‘Hi, Miss Walker,’ she said in her soft American drawl. ‘Where to?’

  ‘Prestbury, please.’

  ‘Shall I take your suitcase?’

  Alessandra shook her head and forced a smile. ‘Thank you, but no. I’ll keep it in the back with me.’

  Once inside the car, she slid the glass partitioning firmly shut. She had no desire to make conversational pleasantries with Babette. Not now. Not when she was still smarting from the way in which Cameron had spoken to her in front of all those people.

  She looked at her unsmiling reflection in the window. Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t have barged in like that—but how many times had he done something similar? It was fine for him to ignore her secretary and walk straight into her office, but what happened when she did the same thing? She got kicked out and was left feeling like a puppy abandoned after Christmas.

  She stared out of the window, at the people rushing along the pavements, their faces intent, and everything in her world seemed suddenly shaky. She found that she was asking herself questions which were unanswerable, and the one which was uppermost in her mind was whether she and Cameron had rushed into marriage too quickly. She found herself remembering the old saying which went, Marry in haste and repent at leisure.

  They had certainly married quickly. Yet they’d been so in love that waiting had seemed pointless. And Cameron had been eager to make the ultimate statement of commitment.

  And possession.

  Except that he was now finding that she was not being as amenable to his possession as he might once have hoped.

  The car drove into Prestbury, where Cameron owned a house. It was probably the finest suburb of Manchester, and Cameron’s house was one of the oldest there. It was a large, imposing white building, sitting in almost two acres of mature gardens which needed an army of gardeners to tend them. During the week, whenever Cameron was in residence, he had a housekeeper, a Mrs Marshall, who lived in the gatehouse, and also two women who came in to assist with the cleaning.

  In Alessandra’s opinion the house was much too big, and very expensive to run. On the very few occasions she’d been there she had felt that she rattled around in it like a pea in a shoe box, but Cameron was reluctant to sell. It was his last link with his mother, who had inherited the estate, and he had spent his earliest years there. When his mother had died, he had been sent away to boarding-school, where he had been miserable for a long time. The house at Prestbury held the only happy memories of his childhood—so he had once told her in a rare moment of explanation, for he hated talking about those lonely early years.

  The car moved slowly up the gravel drive and came to a halt outside the house. Swiftly Alessandra got out, thanked Babette briefly, and rang the doorbell. She had her own key, but it seemed foolish to startle the housekeeper, who was not, she thought drily, expecting her. Like Cameron, she mused.

  But one of the great things about Mrs Marshall was that she was very much of the old school. She hadn’t reacted when Cameron had introduced her as his new bride, and she didn’t react now. She didn’t even blink with surprise when she saw Alessandra standing on the doorstep with her suitcase, merely smiled and greeted her and showed her up to the master bedroom, which was dominated by a vast four-poster bed hung with exotic crimson and gold hangings. Alessandra sank down on it gratefully and kicked her shoes off, at ease for the first time since she’d jumped out of bed that morning.

  Mrs Marshall paused by the door. ‘Will you be wanting a hot lunch, Miss Walker?’

  Alessandra shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Just leave me something cold on a tray, would you, Mrs Marshall? I’ll eat in the sitting room.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Walker.’

  Alessandra picked at the delicious chicken salad which was provided, then spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on a sofa, watching a sad old movie on TV. And she told herself fiercely that the movie was the reason she started bubbling into her handkerchief. Nothing else.

  Mrs Marshall brought her a tray of tea at five, just before she left, and Alessandra switched off the TV and drank it in silence, listening to the ticking of the giant grandfather clock which dominated the hall, and watching the world grow dark outside.

  She stayed like that, sitting in the gloom, lost in her uneasy thoughts as the stars began to glimmer in the sky, when she heard the sound of car wheels swishing on gravel, heard the heavy oak door slam and then a moment’s silence before Cameron called, ‘Alessandra?’

  ‘I’m in here.’

  He opened the door and stood there in silence as his eyes began to adjust to the poor light. ‘What are you doing sitting here in the darkness?’ he asked as he snapped the light on, causing her to screw her face up against its brightness, her eyes blinking furiously.

  ‘Thanks for the overwhelming welcome in your office earlier!’ she commented sardonically.

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’

  ‘You made that pretty obvious!’

  ‘You should have warned me,’ he told her softly.

  ‘Should I?’ she retorted. ‘If I’d warned you then you’d probably have instructed the guards to bar my way!’

  He sighed and Alessandra looked at him more closely as he moved towards the sofa, noticing the deep grooves of fatigue which were etched into the hard, handsome face. His chin was faintly shadowed and his eyes were less bright than usual, and, in spite of her anger, she felt her heart turning over and had to force herself not to open her arms to him but to sit perfectly still, a cool question in her eyes.

  ‘I was tied up,’ he told her bluntly. ‘You could see that. You shouldn’t have just barged in like that.’

  She couldn’t believe she was hearing this! ‘Oh, come on, Cameron!’ she responded, her voice hot with indignation. ‘Have you got an exceptionally short memory? Or is this just the old double standard rearing its ugly head once more? How many times have you barged into my office without invitation?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not many. And certainly not when you’ve been in an important meeting.’

  ‘But you didn’t know that, did you? I might have been! And if I had I certainly wouldn’t have spoken to you as though you were something the cat had dragged in! What was so important about your wretched meeting that you couldn’t stop in order to be civil to your wife?’

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt before coming to sit at the other end of the sofa from her, stretching his long legs out in front of him and stifling a yawn. ‘You happened to walk in during some very delicate negotiations. There’s a new shop steward acting for the union, and he’s—shall we say—ambitious. They’ve put in a pay claim, but I’ve asked them to hold back for another two months until the new German factory is running on full production.

  ‘The dispute is less minor than I’d hoped, and I’ve only narrowly managed to avert strike action this week. Relations are about as sensitive as they can be at the moment.’ He shook his head, and yawned again, but an unwilling amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth as he met her gaze. ‘And then you walk in, looking like a million dollars in your fancy red outfit and your suede shoes.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d noticed,’ said Alessandra in a small voice.

  ‘Oh, I noticed all right,’ he replied silkily. ‘And I wasn’t the only one. There wasn’t a man in that room who could keep his eyes off you.’

  ‘And that’s what made you lose your temper, I suppose?’

  ‘No, it damned well isn’t!’ he exploded. ‘What made me lose my temper
was you flouncing in, and blatantly ignoring the silent messages you were getting from me. I couldn’t believe it when you mentioned Vito’s restaurant.’

  ‘But what’s wrong with that?’ she demanded, genuinely confused. ‘We’ve eaten there before.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it,’ he told her with deliberate emphasis, ‘is that what it costs to eat there could probably feed one of those men’s families for a week! How do you think it looked to them when I asked them to hold off their pay claim for another two months when my wife was suggesting blowing that kind of money on a meal?’

  ‘B-but you pay fair wages,’ Alessandra protested. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Sure I do. I pay better wages than anyone else around here. My staff get a damned good deal. Maternity leave, paternity leave, a permanent crèche, excellent medical cover, free lunches—you name it, they’ve got it. I just happen to have more than they will ever have, that’s all.’ He sighed. ‘And no, it isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair, and that’s just the way things are. I just don’t want to rub their noses in it, that’s all. Can’t you understand what I’m saying, Alessandra?’

  ‘Oh, heck,’ she sighed, briefly closing her eyes as she looked at what had happened through their eyes. ‘It didn’t even occur to me—I’m so damned dense at times.’ She paused and looked at him steadily. ‘I’m sorry, Cameron.’

  ‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the kind of welcome you were expecting.’

  ‘That’s all we seem to be saying to each other lately, isn’t it?’ she observed. “Sorry”.’

  He looked at her consideringly. ‘That’s better than never saying it, surely?’

  ‘True.’ She supposed it was. But that didn’t change the fact that something must be wrong for them to need to keep apologising so often.

  ‘I’m bushed,’ he sighed. He leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes, fatigue revealed in every tense muscle of his spectacular frame. ‘Come over here,’ he said, and something in his voice made her heart turn over.

  She crept along the sofa towards him and he took her into his arms. She let her head fall back so that it rested against his chest and they stayed like that, in peaceful silence. ‘We never get the chance to just do this, do we?’ he murmured eventually, against her hair.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Do nothing. Absolutely nothing but hold one another.’

  ‘Mmm. I know.’ Her big dark eyes flickered open to find him studying her intently, and she looked up at him questioningly. ‘But there isn’t really a lot we can do about it.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ he parried obliquely, and there was an iron note of determination in his voice as he added, ‘Perhaps there is, my darling. Perhaps there is.’

  She could feel the tension in him, like tight bands of steel wrapped around his chest, and she wriggled out of his arms until she was kneeling behind him, her hands reaching out to begin to massage the taut sinews of his neck, and she heard him sigh with pleasure as she felt the tension ease out of his body with each firm stroke of her fingers.

  ‘Mmm. That’s good,’ he breathed on a husky note. ‘Makes me forget everything. Strikes. Schedules. Every damned one of them.’

  ‘That was the idea,’ she murmured drily. ‘But that was just for starters.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ he drawled lazily.

  ‘Mmm. Really,’ she murmured as she took the loosened tie off, then unbuttoned his shirt and slipped that off too. His eyes briefly flickered open, an amused question in them.

  ‘Lie down,’ she instructed him softly. ‘On your stomach.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I love it’s a woman who knows her own mind!’

  She smiled as she let her hands massage rhythmically over the broad, smooth expanse of his back, gradually feeling all the tension seeping out of him.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said eventually. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

  ‘That would be telling! Do you like it?’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Does it make you sleepy?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Has the aching gone?’

  He turned over, and she saw the rueful expression on his face. ‘Well, that rather depends...’ Their eyes met.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, one kind of aching’s gone—but it’s been replaced by another. Know what I mean?’

  ‘It’s pretty obvious.’ Alessandra blushed as her eyes were unwittingly drawn downwards.

  ‘Oh, Alessandra,’ he laughed. ‘I love it when you do that!’

  ‘When I do what?’

  ‘Blush.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Mmm. Makes me realise what an innocent you were when I first met you.’

  ‘And you taught me everything I know!’ she mocked him, with a soft smile.

  ‘You were an exemplary pupil,’ he murmured. ‘It was one of the things I liked about you.’

  ‘Was I?’ Her fingers stroked tiny little curves in the centre of his palms. ‘And what else do you like about me?’

  His eyes glittered like precious jewels. ‘Plenty of things.’

  She gave him her most coquettish smile. ‘Do you like it when I do this too?’ And she pulled her scarlet silk top over her head to reveal the filmy drift of black lace which only partially covered her lush breasts.

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured appreciatively. ‘I sure do.’

  ‘What shall I do now?’ she asked him provocatively.

  His eyes were dark and narrowed and hungry. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’

  ‘Would you like me to take the rest off?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  She put her head to one side and pretended to give it some careful thought. ‘I think you would.’

  ‘Then you’re right,’ he said unsteadily.

  She got off the sofa and performed a slow striptease for him, unzipping the scarlet skirt and letting it pool around her ankles so that she could kick it aside. She loved seeing the wild glitter in his eyes, the heated flare of colour which ran along his high cheekbones as he watched her with his complete attention. She deliberately took an age to peel the silk stockings over her creamy thighs and all the way down the slender length of her legs, tossing each one at him when she’d removed it.

  ‘They have your scent,’ he told her softly, and then said, ‘No,’ as he saw her hand reach up to slide down her teddy. ‘Leave that on and come over here.’

  She climbed on top of him, his state of arousal evident to all her senses as he pulled at the belt of his trousers while she wriggled impatiently on his lap, and he groaned with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

  She’d never known him to rid himself of his clothes with such inelegant haste, and, when he was naked, he clasped her hips possessively in his hands and stilled her movements on his lap. ‘I’ve wanted to do this to you all day, since you walked into my office,’ he murmured, and pulled her head down.

  She had expected the kiss to be hard and punishing, but instead she found herself almost drowning in its sweetness, and she couldn’t stop a small cry from escaping her lips—although it wasn’t until he lifted his head that she realised she had been calling his name.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered softly.

  A great wave of sadness swept over her with all the unremitting force of a tidal flow. Did this perfection only exist in his arms? she wondered fleetingly. Were they compatible only for as long as they were engaged in this most basic communion?

  ‘What is it?’ he repeated, and she shook her head distractedly.

  ‘Just love me,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘Please. Love me, Cameron.’

  ‘God, yes,’ he grated rawly. ‘I do. I will. You know I will.’

  She felt him pushing intimately against her, and she trembled violently as he parted her thighs to accommodate him, when—like a sharp blow to the head—she remembered and froze, her hands pushing ineffectually at his broad chest.

  ‘Cameron, stop!’ she cried urgently, and he
lifted his dazed face from her nipple to stare at her uncomprehendingly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Darling, we can’t—I mean, oh, no!’ For he was almost inside her now, and, oh, how she wanted him. ‘Cameron, we mustn’t! I’ve forgotten my pills—I left in such a rush. Have you got anything here we can use?’

  He swore softly and explicitly beneath his breath. ‘No, of course I haven’t—’

  But then something happened.

  Her hips moved—or maybe it was his. Who knew? And almost without warning he slipped inside her as easily as breathing, and her eyes widened in a shocked question as she felt the great throbbing power of him filling her.

  ‘Oh, Lord!’ he groaned.

  ‘Cameron?’ she whispered throatily.

  ‘Yes,’ he urged on a long, shuddering sigh as he began to move. ‘This is how I want to do it. Do you know that? To take all my seed and spill it inside you, Alessandra, so that it bears fruit.’

  Her eyes widened even further as her body clenched ecstatically around him. ‘Cameron?’

  ‘Shall I make you pregnant? Shall I? Shall I do that for you, Alessandra?’

  What he was whispering to her should have made her flee in horror from him, and yet there was something so incredibly irresistible about the husky way in which he spoke, and the things he was actually saying to her. For this was Cameron stripped bare of every facet of his normal controlled sophistication.

  And if this was Cameron at his most primitively masculine, then he was making her feel overwhelmingly feminine, so that, instead of fighting him off, Alessandra found that she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life, her body opening to welcome him then closing around him. It was actually frightening just how much of a woman she felt as Cameron made slow, exciting love to her.

  And each shuddering word he spoke was accompanied by a powerful thrust which seemed to fill her up to her heart, and she gasped as she found herself reaching the peak with breathtaking speed.

  Just before she tumbled over she watched him move, his eyes closed and his face filled with rapture, his head tipping back as he poised on the edge of fulfilment. And, when the release came, it happened to them both at the same time, which had never happened before, so that they were both stunned into a kind of disbelieving silence.