Larry nodded. “Dead-on, love, dead-on. Now, how about a cup of tea?”
“Why not?” she agreed and asked, “Shall I come and help you?”
“I’ll do it. You go and sit down, relax. But it seems a bit cold in here, so perhaps you’d light the fire. It’s laid, it just needs a match, and there’s a box of them over on the coffee table.”
Larry hurried off, and M did as he asked. Once the fire was burning brightly, she sat down on the sofa, took out her cell phone, and dialed Geo, who answered at once.
“Hello?”
“Geo, it’s M.”
“Hi! How was lunch?” Without waiting for an answer, Geo rushed on. “James is here. He came to look at my paintings, and later we’re going to dinner. Are you going to be with Larry this evening?”
“Yes, I am, and I’m happy James is there, Geo.”
“So am I, and—”
“I’ve got some sad news,” M interrupted. “I guess you haven’t heard?”
“No, I haven’t heard anything about anything. What are you talking about?”
M blew out air, took a deep breath, and plunged in. “Caresse called me just after lunch. There’s been a terrible accident.” Her voice began to wobble, her emotions coming to the surface, but then she took firm control of herself, managed to continue. “Frankie’s been killed in a car crash in France.”
“Oh, my God! How awful. What happened?” Geo sounded horror-struck.
M told her everything she knew, explained that she and Larry had been to the studio, confided that Caresse and Frankie had become engaged the night before he left for Morocco. “So as you can imagine, Caresse is pretty much devastated,” M said, adding, “Frankie’s son, Alex, is with her, and a lot of other friends.”
“I think I’d better go over. Maybe there’s something I can do to help them,” Geo said. “What do you think?”
“It would be very nice if you went, comforting. Frankly, I think the two of them are shell-shocked, and what are friends for, if not to be there in a crisis.”
“You’re right. James will come with me, I’m sure of that.”
“Is everything all right with him?”
“Very. Yes, very all right.”
“I’m so glad,” M answered. “If you need to speak to me, I’m on my cell.”
Fifteen
The fire crackled and burned brightly, the flames flaring up the chimney and giving the room a warm, roseate glow. The thunder and lightning had not abated at all; the rain was falling in torrents, and as Larry had predicted, it was a cloudburst, the rain slashing and rattling against the windows.
As she leaned back against the cushions on the big overstuffed sofa, M’s thoughts turned to Larry. She knew that he was smitten with her, he had made that patently clear. And she was smitten with him, totally enamored of him now, as she had been as a teenager. But now it was much more real because she was with him, not merely daydreaming about him.
She was also well aware that she had not encouraged him last night; he had intuitively detected her apprehension and had backed off. It struck her that she must endeavor to allay any fears he might have about her reluctance to be intimate with him; otherwise their relationship would never progress.
The Bad Thing hove into view in her head, and instantly she smothered it, stamped on it, threw it away, and so was able to put it out of her mind. There, it was gone. She would not think of it again. Not ever.
How to explain the way she had pulled away from him and looked scared last evening? I’ll stick to a few partial truths, she decided, that’s the only way that will work.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on Larry, a habit she had perfected as a teenager. Then something extraordinary clicked in her head, and she sat up with a start. She knew, with absolute certainty, that they were destined to be together. That had been in the cards since she was a child; daydreaming about him had been a prelude to this. In her mind and in her heart she knew him well, knew him truly, as he was at the very core of himself. And she felt safe with him in a way she had never experienced before with a man. He was her destiny.
At this moment Larry walked into the library, carrying the tea tray. He said, “You know, it’s a funny thing, M. I feel that I know you, know everything about you, in fact, but then I suddenly realized in the kitchen that there’s one thing I definitely don’t know about you.”
“What’s that?” she asked, sitting up straighter, glancing at him with avid curiosity as he came over to the fireplace.
“I don’t know whether you take milk or lemon in your tea.”
“And I thought you were going to say something world-shaking.”
“Here’s one of those for you then,” he answered as he placed the tray on the coffee table and looked across at her. “Will you marry me?”
She gaped at him, flabbergasted.
“Go on then, give me an answer.”
“I can’t. I’m stunned, Larry.”
“I bet you would have said yes, and with great alacrity, when you were ten years old.”
“That’s true.”
“So?” He raised a black brow, his blue eyes riveted on hers. “So go on, don’t keep me on tenterhooks.”
“The answer is . . . yes. Very much yes.”
“The perfect answer, the only answer.” He grinned at her and added, “Now that that’s out of the way, we can enjoy our tea. Milk or lemon?”
“Today I feel like having it with lemon,” she answered, enjoying this lighthearted, teasing conversation. “And a sweetener, please.”
Within moments he had poured the tea, which he placed in front of her, then he sat down next to her on the sofa. Immediately he took one of her hands in his. He studied it intently for a moment, his eyes reflective. “I wonder what kind of ring I should give you. Diamond, ruby, sapphire, emerald, or pearl? What’s your preference?”
“I’ll let you decide. Surprise me.”
“That doesn’t present a problem. Surprise you I will.”
“There’s just one . . . proviso . . .”
Her voice had grown serious, and he noticed this at once, attuned to her as he had become. Frowning, he asked, “What is it?”
“I think we have to sleep together first. Before we get married, that is.”
Larry stared at her in astonishment. He knew she was not joking with him, and she had caught him off guard.
M recognized that he was at a loss, and she said quietly, “I want to explain something, Larry, about last night when we were outside the restaurant. You thought I was frightened, didn’t you?”
“Well, apprehensive, yes, that I did. And I didn’t want to rush you into bed against your will. That’s why I decided to take you home.”
“And I was a bit disappointed you made that decision, but I fully understood your reaction.”
“I was worried I might do something to spoil things. I didn’t want to turn you off . . . me.”
She moved closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face, and leaning into him, she kissed him fully on the mouth.
Larry responded eagerly, and then almost at once he pulled away from her, gave her another hard, questioning stare.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You haven’t told me what made you afraid of me.”
“It wasn’t you I was afraid of. . . . I suddenly had a bad memory, about someone else. It had nothing to do with you. Honestly, I promise. But when it came back, it threw me for a moment.”
“What kind of bad memory?” he probed, his eyes fastened on her face.
“Some time ago I had a horrendous sexual experience with a boyfriend. He got extremely rough one night, and became angry with me when I tried to hold him off. He was violent actually, and he forced himself on me, hurt me. I was a mess for a long time afterward, and I haven’t been involved with anyone since.”
“What a bastard he must be!” Larry exclaimed, his anger rising. He managed to keep it in check and went on in a lower voice, “I will neve
r harm you in any way. Please trust me on that.”
“I do, and I feel really safe with you, safer than I have for a long time.” She meant what she said, and she gave him the benefit of a confident and loving smile.
He nodded, stood up, grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her to her feet. Putting his arm around her waist, he led her out of the library, across the foyer, and down the corridor to his bedroom.
“Since I am rather anxious to tie the knot, don’t you think we should get that proviso out of the way immediately?”
“At once,” she concurred, leaning against him, her arm going around his waist, her eyes full of laughter.
They went into his bedroom, and he closed the door behind them, turned her to face him, and brought her into his arms. “Darling M, oh, darling,” he said against her neck. “I know you want to be with me, as much as I want to be with you, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait a bit longer? Until you know me better?”
She smiled against his shoulder. “But I do know you, and better than a lot of the people who’ve been in my life for ages. Anyway, I’ve known you since I was ten, remember? That was when I had my mushy dreams about you.”
He had sensed her smile, and he was pleased that she was relaxed and at ease. He knew she was happy being with him, just as he was with her. “Can I now make your mushy little-girl dreams come true?” he asked softly, his breath warm against her neck.
“I wish you would.” Standing away from him, she looked deeply into his eyes, reached out and touched his mouth, slid one finger along his cheek. “Laurence Vaughan. Do you know, I can’t believe it—that I’m standing in your bedroom about to make love with you.”
Stepping close to her, Larry smiled as he began to unbutton her white cotton shirt. He took it off, threw it on the floor, removed her bra, and dropped that as well. Then he pulled his black sweater over his head and discarded it.
They both moved at exactly the same moment, stepped into each other’s arms. Larry slid one hand down her back, brought it around to cup her breast. Bending over her, he kissed it tenderly, then led her to the bed. They undressed and stood gazing at each other for a moment, before Larry said, “You seem shy all of a sudden. Please don’t be shy with me, darling. You’re lovely, M, perfectly beautiful. Come on, let’s be together the way we want. Let’s love each other, know each other in the best way.”
They lay side by side on the bed, holding hands, not saying a word. But soon Larry pushed himself up on one elbow, stared down at her. He loved the length of her—she was almost as tall as he was—and admired the elegant lines of her body, her long legs. Her face was finely featured, her dark eyes compelling, and they held his, and somewhere at the back of his mind he had the sudden feeling that he knew her.
Aware that he was studying her, M stared back at him, saw a fine vein beating in his temple, noticed the hollow in his neck just below the chin. How vulnerable he looked, like a child. Before she could stop herself, she lifted her head and kissed that tender hollow, felt a rush of the most intense emotion for him. And in her heart she knew that she loved him.
Larry kissed her on the mouth, let his hand slide down over her breasts. Her skin was silky under his touch; he stroked her stomach and her thighs, and he was gentle with her and tender.
Putting her hand on his neck, M brought Larry’s face down to hers, and they kissed deeply. It was a rapturous kiss, and they were lost in each other, enjoying their newfound intimacy.
At one moment M caught her breath, so conscious was she of Larry, of his masculinity and physical magnetism. She was growing more aroused, fired on by his burning desire for her, longing to be possessed by him.
His hands continued to roam over her, fondling, caressing, and when finally they came to rest between her legs, she found herself trembling. Within a few seconds, his expert probing aroused her even more, sent spirals of pleasure rushing through her. At one moment she stiffened slightly, and he murmured, “Relax, darling, just let go.” She did as he asked, and a deeper pleasure spread up into her body, filling her with ecstasy.
Now she reached for him, put her hand on him tentatively, let it rest there between his legs. Slowly, she began to stroke him. Her touch was as light as a feather, and a shiver ran through Larry. He thought he was going to cry out or, worse, explode, and so he swiftly moved on top of her, kissing her deeply, wanting all of her.
Staring up into his face, so intense, so concentrated on her, M thought she was drowning in a deep blue ocean as she gazed into his marvelous eyes, and it seemed to her that she was looking into his soul.
Pushing his hands underneath her, he raised her slightly and brought her closer to him. No longer able to stop himself, he took her to him, entered her, held her in his arms, loving her. Larry’s throat was tight with emotion, and his heart was clattering in his chest as they moved together in perfect rhythm, lost in each other as they reached the pinnacle of their pleasure.
Later, sated, they lay quietly, wrapped in each other’s arms, not wanting to let go. M sighed against Larry’s neck, and sighed again in contentment, and he kissed her cheek, loosened his grip on her slightly so that he could place his head on her shoulder.
And as he lay there next to her, waiting for his heart to slow to its normal steady beat, he experienced a feeling of perfect peace washing over him and, a moment later, an absence of pain. He was filled with wonder at himself, and then he instantly knew the reason why. It was because he was with the woman he had searched for all his life and had at last found.
“I almost didn’t go to Iris’s party,” Larry volunteered as he and M sat in the library, enjoying a glass of wine and smoked salmon sandwiches. He shook his head. “Imagine that! If I hadn’t gone, we wouldn’t have met.”
Smiling at him beguilingly, a knowing look in her dark, sparking eyes, M said softly, “Yes, we would. . . . It’s fate . . . destiny.”
“If you say so, my pretty one.”
“You know what? I almost didn’t go myself,” she confided. “I went because I didn’t want to hurt Dax’s feelings.”
Larry gave her a searching look and asked, “Was he, is he, a boyfriend of yours?”
Taken aback by this question, M simply shook her head and also took a sip of wine. Shrugging herself deeper into Larry’s silk dressing gown, which he had earlier insisted she wear, she finally answered, “No, he’s not a boyfriend, never has been. We met at the Blane Agency, when I first got here, and we kept running into each other. One morning he took me to Starbucks for a coffee, and later he introduced me to Geo, who was his girlfriend at that time. She had a room to rent, I took it, and that’s all.” She shrugged her shoulders, half smiled to herself.
“There you are! Look what you do to me! You’ve just witnessed my first flash of jealousy.” Larry laughed drily, rose, threw another log on the fire, and stood hovering in front of it, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue dressing gown.
M said, “You’ve nothing to be jealous about, and incidentally, I’ve never been seriously involved with anyone.” Her head to one side, she threw him a challenging look. Her tone was cheeky when she ventured, “But I don’t think I can say the same about you, mister.”
“You of all people certainly know that, considering that you’ve been studying my life for years.” This was said in a jocular manner, and he laughed, then said, “But I do have a need . . . to know about you, missy.”
“How can you say that? You boasted that you truly knew me.”
“The kind of person you are, yes, but not much else, no details,” he shot back, gazing at her, his blue eyes full of amusement.
“Ask away,” she responded, steeling herself for his probing questions and lining up her lies.
“I suspect you have siblings,” Larry began, “am I correct?”
“Yes, and I’m in the middle. I have a younger brother,” she answered. “They’re okay, really, when it comes down to it.”
“Are any of them married?”
“My two old
er sisters are, but one was recently widowed. Her husband died suddenly of a heart attack in his thirties, just over two years ago now. Very sad, actually. My older brother is single, the happy bachelor, just like you.”
“Maybe he’s not found anyone he wants to spend the rest of his life with, isn’t that a possibility?”
“Absolutely. You’ve hit the nail on the head. He’s very particular. About his women.”
“Do you have a favorite?” Larry asked. “Most of us usually do.”
“Yes, the sister next to me. We call her Birdie. She’s the one who’s widowed.”
“Does she have children?”
“No, she has a job, though; she sells women’s clothes, has a boutique of her own. And before you ask, my brother made quite a lot of money in the produce business, supplying food to hotels and restaurants. He built a good business and sold out. Now, I call him the playboy.”
“And what about your parents?” Larry stared at her, his eyes narrowing.
Knowing this would be the next question, M was totally prepared. “My father’s sort of semiretired these days. He was a builder. He and Mummy are in Australia at the moment, visiting her mother, who’s been sick. My grandmother’s English, but one of her husbands was an Australian.” She grinned at him and raised a brow. “Any other questions?”
“No, no, not really. Thanks for telling me about your family.”
“I have one for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“I know you were named after Sir Laurence Olivier, and that he was a friend of your father’s. But did you know him well? And did you like him?”
“I did know him, of course; he was a friend of my mother’s and therefore a family friend. Also, my parents worked with him. He was my idol when I was growing up, such a great actor, the greatest actually. I wasn’t close to him because of the age difference, but he was always rather nice with me. He died when I was seventeen.”
“Yes, I know that.”
When she sat back and said nothing else, just sipped her wine, Larry said, “No more questions?”
Breaking the Rules (Harte Family Saga Book 7) Page 11