'Can I—touch you now?' she asked tentatively, aching to explore the golden beauty of his body.
Pleasure flared in his eyes at her request. 'If you're sure…?'
He lay completely still as she made her first tentative caresses, but as she became bolder in her exploration he couldn't hold back the shuddering response of his body to the touch of her hands and lips. Cat felt exultant at his uninhibited response, some inner instinct telling her when it was time to stop.
Caleb lifted her above him, accepting the hard rosebud of her nipple into his mouth as he drank from her. 'You're beautiful, Gat,' he groaned as he rolled over so that she was the one beneath him. 'So very beautiful.' Light butterfly kisses were feathered on her cheeks and brow. 'Do you have any idea how much you please me?' he breathed raggedly, his thighs moving languidly against her in their need.
'As much as you need me, I hope,' she said shyly.
His eyes were liquid fire. 'Now, Cat?' he groaned his need.
'Please,' she urged, her gaze locked with his as he moved above her, gently probing the moistness of her, his eyes darkened with pain at her sharply indrawn breath as he surged completely into her, not moving, just watching as her own pain faded, her eyes becoming wide with the wonder of his possession.
They were no longer two people, but one, joined together where their pleasure was the greatest, giving and taking, and as Caleb's thrusts became harder and quicker Cat knew that she had to give, that she needed to give, that she did give, feeling Caleb's body tense before he flowed into her, the two of them still moving gently together even when the crescendo had abated, neither wanting the pleasure to end.
'Oh, Cat,' Caleb groaned as he kissed her languidly. 'Oh God!' He shook uncontrollably.
She held him to her, enjoying the weight of his body, softly caressing his back. 'It was the same for me,' she confided huskily, wonder for the joy they had shared still in her over-bright eyes. 'I never knew there was such—giving.'
He looked down at her with tender eyes. 'Most women would have said pleasure.'
She shook her head. 'It was so much more than that.' Her eyes glowed.
'It was,' he added. 'It still is.'
'Hell just froze over,' she conceded. 'Does it always make you feel this sleepy?' she chattered on, knowing the togetherness he still felt wasn't just the joining of their bodies. She could feel what was happening between them, too, and she needed time to accept what she already thought she felt for this man. With Harry she had never needed to question the tightness of their love; with Caleb there was so much to question, whether it was love being one of the things she needed to know.
He laughed indulgently, taking her with him as he rolled on to his side, their bodies still joined. 'No,' he chuckled as she blinked like a sleepy feline. 'But I can see that tonight I'll have to allow you to go to sleep.'
Her eyes widened. 'You mean you aren't tired?'
The returning hardness of his body was answer enough, and he laughed softly as she blushed. 'Only a little,' he drawled.
'Not even a little,' she gasped at the involuntary movements of his body inside her, wide awake again herself now. 'Caleb, can we—are you ?'
'God, yes,' he groaned. 'I could go on making love to you all night!'
And he did, in every way there was, whether he be tormenting her with slow caresses that made her beg, or fiercely taking her with hard thrusts of his body. There was no question of a giver or a taker in their heated lovemaking, they both gave, until, for now, they were too exhausted to give any more.
Caleb's arms reached out for her instinctively as she slid from his side the next morning, but she managed to reassure his sleepy movements with a lingering kiss on the mouth, leaving the bedroom as quietly as she could, breathing a sigh of relief when she reached her own bedroom without running into any of the Steele staff.
Although perhaps that wasn't so surprising; it was only six-thirty in the morning!
She loved Caleb Steele. This morning there was no doubt in her mind about how she felt. She couldn't have given herself the way that she had, have Caleb give himself to her in the same way, if she hadn't already been in love with him.
What happened now?
What did she want to happen?
She wanted Caleb to love her as she loved him!
Why was that so important? She surely wasn't expecting him to marry her?
She was right to scorn that possibility. Caleb had been a single man since he was her age, had enjoyed his bachelor status to the full, had no reason to settle on one woman and marry her.
But she wanted to marry him! Once again she knew the feeling of loving a man completely, of wanting to be with him, during good times and bad, of wanting to give him children. Any child that Caleb fathered would have to have those dark blue or black eyes of the Steele family, but if they inherited her blonde colouring they would be beautiful children.
But last night Caleb had only wanted to evict the ghost from her life, and while she knew her love for Harry would always be a part of her she knew it was no longer her whole life, that last night Caleb had become the centre of all her hopes and dreams for the future, the future she had believed died with Harry. Would Caleb want that? She didn't think so.
She returned sadly to her original question; what happened now?
It was a question to which she had found no answer by the time she joined Lucien Steele for breakfast in his suite, at his request, not having seen Caleb since she kissed him good morning two hours ago.
Black eyes studied her intently, and Cat felt herself blush self-consciously. Lucien no longer even needed to try and read her dreams in her eyes, the vividness of her time in Caleb's arms last night was glowing in them!
'Miss Howard,' he drawled, standing up with a politeness that was belied by the searching intensity of his gaze. 'Or may I call you Cat?' he added softly.
'Now that you're my son's lover,' Cat felt as if he had said. 'Please,' she invited distantly, 'This is a beautiful suite,' she added, to fill the awkwardness, genuinely liking the warm comfort of the rooms Lucien Steele had made into his home the last two years.
'Thank you,' he accepted drily. 'You're a very beautiful young woman.'
She blushed anew at his bluntness. 'I—thank you,' she accepted uncomfortably.
He smiled. 'I'm not the first member of my family to tell you so,' he mocked.
'Mr Steele—'
'Lucien,' he put in softly. 'Which of them told you you're beautiful, Caleb or Luke?' he mused as if greatly enjoying himself…
'Both of them—I think,' she frowned. 'I—'
'Really?' he chuckled softly. 'I trust you ignored my grandson?'
'Concerning that, yes,' she nodded. 'Otherwise he's a little difficult to ignore.'
Lucien sobered. 'You made quite an impression on him, too!'
She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 'If it's about last night——'
'Which part of it?' he prompted in amusement.
'Mr Steele—'
'Caleb told me you have an annoying habit of becoming formal when you're embarrassed or angry,' he spoke conversationally. 'Which one are you now?'
'Both!' she snapped.
'I can see that you are,' he sympathised regretfully. 'It was wrong of me to tease you in that way. Let's sit down and have breakfast, and I'll tell you all about my marriage to Sonia.'
For a moment she continued to glare at him suspiciously, feeling a little like a fish must feel when it's being wound in on the line, unsure whether it would become the next meal or be put back in the water. But if he wanted to play word-games, let him. She didn't have anything to be ashamed of.
'I would prefer it if you didn't sit and take notes while we eat.' Lucien accepted the coffee she poured for him. 'Anything you don't remember we can go over again another time.'
She listened in fascination as he began to talk of that life in Hollywood during the forties that had never been reproduced: the parties, the cars, the scandals,
and interwoven through it all his ten years of marriage to Sonia Harrison.
'She was truly a "star" in the fullest sense of the word.' His eyes glowed as he remembered his wife's beauty. 'I was happy just to live in her shadow.'
'Oh, but—'
'I was a famous man in my own right,' he softly finished for her. 'Not like Sonia. She was the star of the time. I was called Mr Harrison by hotel porters, in restaurants, by fans we met in the street, even by some of the actors themselves.'
'Didn't you mind?' Cat frowned, able to imagine how awkward that must have been for him.
'God, no,' he dismissed without rancour. 'I would have become Mr Harrison just to remain at her side as her husband.'
Cat had never seen so much love and pride shown in anyone's face as she saw in Lucien Steele's at that moment. It was obvious that he had adored his wife. That he still did.
Suddenly he frowned at Cat. Have you ever seen any of her films?'
She nodded. 'She was very beautiful.'
'Mesmerising,' he breathed softly. 'Everyone loved her. And she loved—only me. And our child. She loved Caleb from the moment he was born. I began to hope that night that she—'
'Yes?' she prompted as he broke off.
His eyes were dark now, the love fading from them. 'A star has many facets, Cat,' he told her slowly. 'Each as bright—and unyielding, as the last.'
Cat sat tensely in her chair, waiting for him to continue as he seemed to have lapsed off into some memory she had no right to. He drew himself back from the hell he had receded to with effort, looking at her with pain-glazed eyes.
'Jealousy is the most destructive emotion there is,' he stated flatly.
She could understand how he could feel the emotion when his wife was constantly with handsome movie stars, men who often felt they had to make a conquest, whether the woman was married or not. It couldn't have been easy being the husband of a screen goddess.
Lucien's mouth twisted as he studied her; 'I can see what you're thinking,' he drawled. 'And you're completely wrong in your conclusions,' he sighed. 'I wasn't the one that was jealous.'
She frowned her confusion. 'Your wife…?' She suddenly realised what he meant, dumbfounded by the claim when this man had obviously adored the woman.
'Yes.' His sigh was heavier this time. 'Of course there was no reason for the jealousy,' he stated unnecessarily. 'I worshipped the ground Sonia glided across. But jealousy can't be reasoned with. And it can't be ignored either.'
Cat sat stiffly as she waited for him to go on, sure that in a moment she was going to hear something she would rather not know—and completely unable to stop it from happening!
'There were arguments, fights,' he revealed harshly. 'Savage fights,' he added in a sickened voice. 'When Sonia seemed to lose all reason, would throw things, anything she could get her hands on.'
Cat didn't want to hear any more of this, it was too personal, too intimate. 'Mr Steele —'
His eyes blazed with anger at her interruption. 'You came here to hear about my marriage to Sonia, Cat, so stop being embarrassed and listen!' he grated. 'Sit down,' he ordered as she stood up.
'Just because this isn't the pretty fairy story you wanted is no reason for you to run away from it.'
'I'm not running away!'
'Then sit down!'
She sat. 'Please, go on,' she invited shakily, feeling as if she were an eavesdropper on intimacies that were no one's concern but this man's. And yet she knew that wasn't strictly true, knew that the picture of Sonia Harrison that her husband was describing in no way matched the press releases of the time where she was known for her beauty and sweet-temperedness.
'I intended to,' he bit out coldly. 'Sonia was a human being, with all the frailties that go along with that; she wasn't the plaster screen goddess they tried to make of her. Maybe if they hadn't tried to mould her in that way she wouldn't have hit out with those angry scenes,' he shrugged. 'The only thing that recompensed for them was the tempestuous making up afterwards,' he sighed. 'Except one night we didn't get as far as making up, the night she threw one thing too many.' He flinched at the memory. 'An oil lamp,' he revealed flatly, as Cat looked puzzled.
She gasped, frowning her disbelief of what he was implying, the steadiness of his gaze showing her that every word he spoke was the truth. 'The night of the fire…?' she realised.
He closed his eyes to shut out the pain of that memory. 'Yes,' he breathed. 'The place went up like a tinder-box. Caleb managed to climb out of a window in his bedroom, but I couldn't find Sonia after the first flames went up.'
This was the 'wandering' Caleb had warned her about and feared his father doing, the 'unpleasant things he said that didn't make sense'. But they did make sense, shockingly so. All the news reports at the time had said the fire had started accidentally, but it hadn't; Sonia Harrison had started that fire, if not deliberately, then in a burst of uncontrollable anger, anger none of the public believed her to be capable of.
She moistened her lips. 'Why are you telling me all this?' she encouraged softly.
'Because I'm tired,' he told her heavily, 'And for another reason I think you guessed the first time you looked at me.'
He was dying.
CHAPTER NINE
'Yes,' he smiled sadly as he saw the realisation in her eyes. 'At least Sonia didn't know she was going to die that night. She wouldn't have thrown the lamp if she had,' he said wryly. 'Sonia loved to be alive.'
'Can't anything be done? For you, I mean,' Cat frowned.
'No, my dear,' He gave her an encouraging smile. 'And I'm not sure I would have wanted it if it could,' he admitted gruffly.
'Oh but—'
'Cat,' he cut in firmly. 'I'm not afraid to die; I've lived for seventy-four years, too many of them without Sonia.'
Seventy-four wasn't old, not in this day and age. 'Surely Caleb—'
'He's called in all the specialists,' Lucien assured her softly. 'To no avail. But it doesn't really matter, because I'll be glad it's all going to end at last. I wanted to die when Sonia did, but it wasn't to be, and I had the responsibility of our son to think of. What's your excuse?' he asked suddenly.
Cat blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'
'I know you loved your young man,' he sympathised gently. 'But it wasn't enough to join him.'
She swallowed hard. 'What do you mean?'
'When Luke asked you last night how you had survived after your fiancé was killed on your wedding day you said you had no choice, that you hadn't been in the car with him.' Lucien watched her with narrowed eyes.
'He told you—all that?' she gasped.
'Caleb treats you as he has no other woman; I had to know the reason for that.'
'And you think it's because I lost Harry in that way?' she demanded to know.
'No,' he denied drily. 'Although it does explain a few things. Cat, don't you realise you did have a choice the day your young man died; you had the choice whether to go on without him or to join him.'
'Suicide?' she choked. 'How can you say that when you—when you—'
'I told you, I had our child to think about. I couldn't deny him both of his parents. Who did you have?' he prompted.
'Myself,' she burst out without thinking. 'I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die…' She was dying as she realised what she was saying, her face buried in her hands.
'Of course you didn't, my dear.' Lucien's hand squeezed her arm understandingly. 'Who would my Caleb have loved if you had?' he gently rebuked. She shook her head. 'Caleb doesn't love me.'
'Doesn't he?' his father mused. 'Well, we shall see. I'm sorry I was so cruel just now, Cat—I'm sure Caleb wouldn't have allowed it if he had known; he doesn't like anyone to be cruel to his little cat,' he said drily. 'I only wanted to show you that although you loved your young man you chose to live after he had gone, and now you have to be strong enough to move on, to make the life for yourself that's open to you, and not to live with the memories that are really no life at all.'
'You have,' she accused.
'Tell me, Cat, how would you feel if Caleb were to die tomorrow?'
All the colour drained from her face, her eyes deep green pools of pain.
'How, Cat?' Lucien prompted roughly.
Her lips moved stiffly, almost of their own volition. 'I don't know.' Her voice came out in a strangulated rasp. But she did know, she did! And it was a betrayal.
'You didn't love Harry any less than you love Caleb,' Lucien assured her at her tragic look. 'Just in a different way. If he had lived, your love for him would have grown deeper, more intense, the way that you now love Caleb.'
'I'm not even sure I do love Caleb.' Again she spoke with less than honesty, and she knew that she wasn't fooling Lucien Steele either.
'You're sure, Cat,' he chided. 'You just aren't willing to admit it yet. Why do you think I told you about Sonia and myself if not to show you the futility of wasting your life in regrets.'
Cat frowned. 'But you've never remarried.'
'Because Sonia was that deeper more intense love as well as my youthful love,' he explained gently. 'I realise you need time to take in all that I've said, but I think you already know and understand what I've been trying to say to you.'
She did, of course she did. She had more or less grown up with Harry, and their falling in love had happened so naturally they had had no doubts about their future together, confident they would grow and continue to love together. And they would have done if Harry hadn't died. But he had been taken from her, and she had continued to grow on her own. So that she could fall in love with Caleb.
Lucien squeezed her arm again. 'And now I'd like to thank you for helping Luke the way you have,' he said briskly.
'Helping him?' she repeated dazedly.
'He's been a hell-raiser since they diagnosed my weakened heart two years ago, but last night you helped him to accept my death. He suddenly realised, after hearing of the death of a nineteen-year-old man who had everything to live for, what I've tried to tell him so many times, that I'm seventy-four years old. You made him realise that isn't such a bad age to die, not when you've had as much out of life as I have.'
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