by Penny Jordan
‘Faith?’ Nash questioned her softly, but she shook her head and looked away from him, suddenly as shy and self-conscious as though she had still been fifteen.
Whatever else Faith might lie about she wasn’t hiding her desire for him, Nash recognised. But then some women were like that, weren’t they? Highly sexed…easily aroused…
Nash leaned forward and kissed Faith’s mouth. Her lips clung eagerly to his, her breasts filling his hands, her skin satin-soft.
He kissed her breasts and then her nipples, sucking on them gently, afraid to give way to the full force of his desire in case he hurt her. He kissed the soft warmth of her belly and teased his fingers between the thighs she was keeping unexpectedly tightly closed, moving higher and deeper, feeling her body relax and admit him to the sweet, warm wetness that was waiting for him.
He couldn’t wait much longer. Just touching her like this was driving him crazy. In fact, he couldn’t wait any longer!
‘Open your legs,’ he whispered to her as he kissed her.
Open her legs! Suddenly Faith felt nervous, afraid of somehow disappointing him. After all, this was her first time. She was inexperienced, unknowing.
Hesitantly she started to part her thighs, and then, as Nash started to move slowly over her, against her and then within her, all her doubts and fears fell away and she was climbing, flying, soaring free, a part of Nash as he was a part of her, two equal parts of one perfect whole.
This was what she had been born for, what she had been destined for…this and Nash…
As she felt the gathering force of her arousal Faith closed her eyes, Nash’s name rising from somewhere deep down inside her, its taste on her tongue unbelievably sweet, its sound on her lips a paean of love and welcome.
Unable to stop herself, she wrapped herself around him and whispered passionately, ‘I’m so glad I waited for you, Nash—for this…us…I couldn’t have borne it to happen with anyone else…not the first time—’ Or any other time, she’d wanted to say, but Nash spoke first.
‘What?’ he demanded roughly.
She could feel Nash’s shock, feel the almost painful momentary cessation of his body moving within hers. The thought of losing him, of losing ‘it’ now that she was so close, panicked and drove her. Frantically she moved her body against the stillness of his, once, and then again, and again—until with a raw groan Nash was moving with her, for her, carrying them both so swiftly towards the edge of her known universe that Faith could only cling on to him desperately as the feeling engulfed her, sweeping her into its own vortex.
As he heard Faith cry out Nash shuddered, caught up in the undertow of the sharply conflicting emotions savaging him.
Faith had been a virgin! That was impossible…unbelievable…But his body knew differently, had somehow sensed the truth about her even before she had told him herself. But where his mind had registered the danger of what he was doing once he had heard the words, his body had reacted very differently. And even before Faith herself had so recklessly urged him on he had known that he couldn’t control his body’s desire for her.
Nash closed his eyes and then opened them again, moving away from Faith as he got off the bed and started to reach for his clothes.
Faith’s virginity altered none of his feelings about what she had done to his godfather. How could it? He had no idea why she hadn’t had any previous lovers—although he did know it couldn’t have been from any lack of offers. Had she been saving it until she met the right man? A man rich enough to give her the lifestyle she wanted? A man such as Robert Ferndown?
If so, then why throw away such a valuable bargaining counter now, and with him?
To buy his silence? A long shudder ripped through him. Did she really think…?
It no longer mattered what she thought, or what he felt. How could it? What mattered now was what they had done.
‘What is it? Why are you going?’ Faith demanded anxiously as Nash pulled on his clothes. Why was he leaving her when he should be holding her, loving her?
Her body felt weak; she was in both physical and emotional shock, unable to comprehend anything other than the fact that Nash was deserting her.
Nash waited until he had reached her bedroom door before asking his question.
‘Why?’ he demanded emotionlessly. ‘You’re twenty-five, Faith, a woman.’
What was he trying to say—that she was too old to be a virgin, that he wished she had not been?
Faith felt as though someone had cut her emotional veins and she was slowly bleeding to death, slowly growing colder and colder, emptier and emptier of the love that had burned so hotly and fiercely in Nash’s arms. Ten years apart from him hadn’t been enough to destroy it and neither had the accusations he had flung at her or his misjudgement of her. No, she had had to wait for now, in his arms, to have her love destroyed, murdered, as he had so often accused her of murdering his godfather.
From somewhere she managed to find enough pride to respond stiffly to him.
‘It wasn’t a conscious choice.’ She gave a small, careless shrug and a bitter little smile. ‘I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting—’
Nash stopped her savagely. ‘You should have told me.’
‘I did…’ Faith reminded him quietly.
‘Not then. My God…That was too late, Faith,’ he grated, underlining his meaning and adding crudely, ‘By the time you told me I doubt that a chastity belt could have stopped me!’
‘I wasn’t the one—’ Faith began defensively, but immediately Nash stopped her again.
‘You were the one who offered me sex in return for my…silence,’ he told her sharply. ‘You’re unbelievable—do you know that? What were you thinking? That I’d stop and that your virginity—your prize bargaining counter—would remain intact? Was that why you pretended to be so eager to touch me, Faith—because you were planning to make sure that things never got as far as penetration, that I wouldn’t be able to last that long?’
Faith listened to him in disbelief. She had never offered him sex. What was he talking about? And as for the rest of what he had said—a deep, angry tide of colour swept over her.
‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’re using some form of birth control?’ Nash continued wearily.
One look at Faith’s face confirmed his worst fears.
Faith could feel herself starting to shiver. Now, with her body empty of the sensual urgency and need which had driven her, she couldn’t understand how she had behaved in the way she had. As she forced herself to meet the hard, angry topaz glitter of Nash’s gaze her own fell away.
‘I…I can’t be pregnant,’ she began to stammer, ‘Not after just the once…’
The sound of Nash’s laughter shocked her even more than his rejection of her.
‘I don’t believe this,’ she heard Nash saying forcefully. ‘And from you, the girl your tutors praised to the skies for your maturity and intelligence…your sense of responsibility, your compassion for other people.’
‘You read my tutors’ reports?’ Faith’s forehead began to pleat in suspicion.
‘They were with your references for the job,’ Nash told her after a brief pause. ‘Not that that matters now,’ he added dismissively. ‘Now you and I have rather more urgent things to worry about—don’t we?’
Red-faced, Faith turned away from him. He was right, of course he was right, and she didn’t know why she was behaving so stupidly.
As he opened her bedroom door Nash hesitated.
‘Does Ferndown know about…your virginity?’ he asked her abruptly.
The hot colour in Faith’s face became a burning wave of anger.
‘What business is that of yours?’ she began, biting her lip as she saw the look Nash was giving her. ‘No! No, he doesn’t,’ she admitted reluctantly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS five o’clock in the afternoon. Faith hadn’t seen Nash in nearly two days—since that night when he had left her bedroom, in actual fact�
��and for some reason the emptiness of the large house was now beginning to prey on her a little—the emptiness of the house or the absence of Nash?
The former, of course, Faith insisted firmly to herself as she tried to return her concentration to her work.
Yesterday morning when she had come downstairs to find a note in the kitchen from Nash, saying that he had gone away ‘on business’, her immediate reaction had been one of overwhelming relief.
What had happened between them that night was something she wanted to seal up and hide away somewhere, with a large ‘Danger—do not open’ label on it.
Absent-mindedly she started to doodle on her notepad, a horrified expression widening her eyes as she saw the entwined hearts symbol she had drawn.
What was the matter with her? She didn’t love Nash—not any more—and he most certainly did not love her. But she had…
Her face burning, she stood up and walked over to the study window. It was being here at Hatton that was the cause of her problems and responsible for what had happened—being here at Hatton with Nash. Only Nash wasn’t here now, so she ought to be able to concentrate on her work instead of…
Had Nash really left ‘on business’, or had he left because he wanted to put some distance between them, to underline to her that he didn’t want her in his life?
Faith tensed as the study door opened, her heart thumping, but it was only Mrs Jenson the housekeeper.
‘I’m off now,’ she told Faith.
As she tried to smile in acknowledgement Faith was sharply conscious of the other woman’s unspoken hostility towards her. She had sensed it the first time they had met, and she didn’t think it was just her imagination that it had become somehow more brazenly threatening in Nash’s absence.
Hadn’t she got enough problems to contend with without worrying about Mrs Jenson? Faith asked herself as the housekeeper turned to leave, and returned her attention to her work.
Whilst she worked she tried to visualise Hatton in its converted state, but worryingly such a vision refused to form for her. Instead the only person she could see living here at Hatton was Nash.
The only person?
Agitatedly Faith turned round. Surely it was only natural that when she visualised Nash she should also visualise a family, his family, with him? she tried to defend herself.
Maybe. But was it also natural that she should visualise that same family—those two little girls, those two strong-jawed boys—with Nash’s unmistakable topaz eyes and her own Scandinavian hair colouring?
It was just her memory playing tricks on her, Faith insisted with inward mental indignity. It was just because once, a long time ago, when she had been too naïve and silly to know better, she had fantasised that one day she and Nash would have such a family. It meant nothing now. Nothing…
Her eyes clouded as reality forced her to acknowledge an anxiety she had been pushing to the back of her mind.
Lost, deep in thrall to the wonder of making love with Nash, irresponsibly she had not given a single thought to what the result of that lovemaking might be. Without a previous sex life there had been no need for her to consider such things.
She couldn’t be pregnant, she tried to reassure herself. Apart from anything else she was well past the age when something like an accidental pregnancy was allowable. She was a woman, responsible for her own life—and for a new life which she and Nash might have created?
Her mobile rang, interrupting her thoughts, and the sound of Robert’s voice made her uncomfortably aware of just how what had happened with Nash was likely to be viewed by other people—and especially Robert himself.
‘I just thought I’d ring to see how things are going,’ he explained.
Quickly and professionally Faith outlined to him what she was doing.
Was the business Nash had left to conduct anything to do with the Foundation and the house? Faith did not feel that it was her place to ask, and Robert already sounded harassed and preoccupied.
‘How’s the Smethwick contract going?’ Faith asked him.
‘Not very well,’ he admitted. ‘I’m having lunch with the other members of the board tomorrow and I suspect I’m going to be asked to come up with a solution to the delay. I don’t suppose Nash has said anything to you about Hatton?’ he asked Faith hopefully.
Faith was still feeling guilty about Robert and the problems he was having later in the evening as she cleared away her supper things and then made her way back to the study.
They were having a wonderful spell of good weather and she was tempted to spend the evening outside in the garden. But she had run into a problem with her work on the conversion of the house which she wanted to get to grips with.
Large as it was, in terms of a family house, Faith was concerned that the costs involved in its conversion to a respite home would be too high in relation to the number of people it would ultimately be able to house.
The wonderful Jekyll gardens were not designed for children to play in, and to destroy them in order to create something that was suitable seemed almost sacrilege.
Faith was still trying to find an acceptable solution to the problem several hours later, when Nash arrived back.
As she saw him getting out of his car her first inclination was to hide herself away in her room; her face was already starting to burn a self-conscious pink. But her life had given Faith both courage and the determination to stand up for herself. Why should she hide herself away? What had happened between them had, after all, taken two, even if…
She discovered that she was holding her breath as Nash opened the front door.
She had left the study door slightly ajar; surely he would guess from the fact that she had the light on that she was working here, even if he had not seen her from the drive. And he would, of course, be as reluctant to see her as she was him.
Faith heard the breath rattle betrayingly in her lungs as Nash disproved her anxious theorising by pushing open the study door and walking in.
In the dark-coloured business suit he was wearing he looked even more dauntingly and overpoweringly male.
The remembered torrid heat of their lovemaking seemed to engulf Faith as she tried to match the subtle domination of his body language.
‘I know it’s late but there’s something we need to discuss,’ he told her brusquely as he pushed something towards her across the desk.
‘What’s this?’ Faith asked him uncertainly, eyeing the piece of paper uneasily. She had no idea what it was, but the look on Nash’s face was enough to set all her own internal alarm bells clanging.
‘It’s a special licence,’ Nash told her grimly.
‘A what?’ Bemusedly she looked at him.
‘A special licence,’ Nash repeated in a clipped voice, adding before she could say anything, ‘I know the bishop—he was a close friend of my father’s—and he agreed exceptionally to grant us a licence to get married. I’ve made all the arrangements. The service will take place tomorrow morning at eleven. I’ve already seen the vicar. He was—’
‘Married?’ Faith interrupted him in a shocked voice. ‘No! No! We can’t! That’s not possible,’ she objected. Her heart was pounding. She felt dizzy…disbelieving…filled with panic and yet somehow distanced from what was happening, as though she was merely an onlooker watching her own emotions, observing her own reactions.
But Nash was speaking once again, telling her sharply, ‘I’m afraid it isn’t merely possible, Faith, it’s essential. You and I have to get married. We don’t have any other option.’
Faith could feel other emotions beginning to filter through the protection of her shock now: painful, hurting, damaging emotions that were almost too much for her to bear. Emotions she couldn’t allow herself to even acknowledge, never mind examine.
‘Why?’ she asked Nash, her voice high with defensive panic. ‘We don’t—’
‘Do you really need to ask me that?’ Nash cut across her with grim cynicism. ‘You could be pregnant.’
&
nbsp; Faith closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath. No, of course, she didn’t.
‘Are you trying to suggest that we should get married because of a baby I may or may not be carrying?’ she questioned him sharply.
‘Because you may be carrying my baby,’ Nash agreed harshly, ‘and because…’ He walked over to the study window, keeping his back towards her as he told her coldly, ‘No matter what my opinion of you might be, Faith, I have my own moral code. An old-fashioned moral code by modern standards, perhaps, but it was Philip’s code, and in many ways he had more of an influence on my childhood than either of my parents.’
He paused and then turned round, catching Faith off guard so that there was no time for her to conceal the pain she knew must be in her eyes as he continued mercilessly, ‘Had you been more…experienced…’
‘You’re saying we have to marry because I was a virgin?’ Faith demanded, her disbelief colouring her voice. ‘But that’s…that’s archaic, Nash.’
‘To you, I dare say it is. But the fact remains that according to my moral laws it is the right thing, the only thing I can now do.’
Faith took a deep breath.
‘And if I refuse?’ she asked him, holding her head high as she forced herself to challenge his control of what was happening.
‘I can’t allow you to do that, Faith,’ Nash told her sombrely, maintaining the kind of blistering eye contact with her that would normally have left her raw with pain and despair. ‘If it helps to sweeten the pill for you just try reminding yourself that you’ve played the bargaining counter of your virginity extremely well, and that my wealth is far in excess of Ferndown’s—although I dare say I shall keep a much tighter hold on it where you’re concerned than he would.’
Faith couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think; she couldn’t even breathe so deep and traumatising was what Nash had said to her.