by Penny Jordan
From her breasts his mouth moved to the valley between them, and began a slow, unhurried descent that involved his tongue describing tormenting circles of pleasure of ever-increasing intensity.
Carrie felt him lower her feet back to the ground and move his hands to span her waist. He knelt on the floor, the downward movement of his lips not stopping until they reached the low-slung waistband of her velour pants.
Violent shudders racked her; her hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails unwittingly digging into his flesh. She felt him pause and then begin to tug down her pants and underwear.
The soft feathering of hair covering her sex could not disguise the tempting, pouting arousal of her body as it flaunted its longing for him
With every kiss that took him closer to the sexual core of her Carrie could feel her heart slamming with increasing ferocity against her ribs.
She was blind, deaf—oblivious to everything but her own need and the huge dammed-up forbidden force of it she had hidden in denial for so very long.
This was why no other man had ever come anywhere near to interesting her enough to share anything more than a mere dinner date with him; this was why she had had found it so easy to live the life of a nun. This…and Luc. Luc…Luc…
Carrie only realised that she was sobbing his name aloud when the deliberate, delicate movement of his tongue against her sex suddenly became the white-hot pressure of his mouth, taking, possessing, exposing both of them in the true, intense ferocity of their mutual need.
The swift, spasming contractions of her pleasure came so quickly that she cried out against them, her fingers twining in Luc’s dark hair as she sobbed out the earthy intensity of her release.
She could feel Luc easing his mouth away from her body and then lifting her, carrying her over to the huge bed, placing her in its centre and moving over her, into her.
The hot, full feel of him within her was a sensation that took her straight back to the past, to the aching sweetness of the innocent virginal surrender of herself to him.
This time too she was giving herself to him, to the increasingly urgent rhythm he was imposing on her willing flesh. She could feel the tiny tremors of sensual excitement starting to build up again, but they were different this time—deeper, stronger, holding him, drawing him fully within her body; she wanted him as close as he could get to where she most longed to have him.
She could feel the harshness of his breath as his own desire overtook him, each thrust of his body binding them closer, deepening the responsive quivers of her own.
Like an avalanche her climax thundered down on her, exploding inside her only a heartbeat after she felt Luc’s hot release.
His heart was thudding heavily against her body, and she could still hear the sound of his laboured breathing.
As the unwanted emotion of what had happened finally flooded through her, filling her eyes with stinging tears, she heard Luc demanding savagely, ‘What is it about you, Carrie, that drives a man to commit an act he can only despise himself for…?’
She could see the look of angry contempt in his eyes as he moved away from her and headed for the bathroom.
For a moment she felt too distressed and weak to move. Right now, more than anything else, she ached for the warmth and comfort of his arms, for his reassurance that he had not meant what he had said…
Shakily she got up off the bed and dragged on her clothes. All those years ago she had ached for those things too. She had not received them then and she certainly was not going to do so now! How much of a fool did she have to make of herself? Carrie wondered sickly as she headed for the bedroom door and pulled it open. Had she really not learned her lesson the first time around?
Carrie stared anxiously at her expression in the bedroom mirror. Did she look as puffy-eyed as she felt? Or had she managed to hide the effects of her nearly sleepless night with the make-up she had just applied? Certainly Benita, her maid, had not said anything when she had brought Carrie her early-morning cup of tea and helped her to dress—other than to tell her excitedly that workmen were already beginning to decorate the town ready for the celebration of the country’s Centenary and the Royal Wedding—her wedding to Luc!
Carrie tensed as she heard a very firm knock on her bedroom door. Her gaze fixed on it as it opened and Luc walked in.
Typically, he was dressed formally in an immaculate suit.
‘Good—you’re here,’ he began curtly. ‘Look, Carrie, about last night—’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She stopped him immediately, getting up and pacing the room as she tried to hide her distress and agitation. ‘Just who did you think I was, Luc?’ she demanded. ‘Your mistress?’
She could barely endure to breathe the same air as him, never mind look at him. Even the silence between them made her raw nerve-endings flinch in pain.
‘I behaved in a way that perhaps I should not have done. I admit that,’ Luc acknowledged coolly. ‘But I wasn’t entirely to blame—was I, Carrie?’
Unable to stop herself or protect herself, she demanded, ‘What do you mean?’
He was going to taunt her for her response to him. She knew that, but somehow she could not stop herself from inviting the humiliation and pain.
‘You pushed me, Carrie. You goaded me and taunted me, and I reacted as any man would have.’
Carrie was too relieved to object to what he was saying.
‘I warn you now that if you’re expecting me to apologise to you—’ Luc continued grimly.
Released from her fear, Carrie felt a surge of strengthening anger.
‘What? You apologise to a mere nobody like me? Of course not! Perish the thought!’ she agreed witheringly.
‘One of the reasons I want to speak with you is that my godmother came to see me first thing this morning…’
‘Did she? Well, I’m sure it wasn’t to congratulate you on our betrothal!’ Carrie murmured dryly.
She could see that Luc was frowning at her.
‘Oh, come on, Luc,’ she told him irritably. ‘She hates the thought of me marrying you almost as much as I do.’
‘Carrie—’ he began grittily, and then stopped as they both heard the sudden barrage of noise that exploded outside the window.
‘What the devil—?’
Carrie could see quite clearly where a plume of smoke was rising from the harbour.
‘Stay here,’ Luc ordered her tersely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CARRIE walked restlessly along one of the paths of the beautifully designed private courtyard garden, going for the umpteenth time to stand by the wall and look through the open arched ‘window’ down to the harbour below.
It was over two hours since Luc had left. The whole castle was abuzz with speculation about the cause of the explosion which had been responsible for the noise they had all heard earlier—and apparently the destruction of one of the yachts in the marina—but no one seemed able to confirm exactly what had happened or why.
The garden—which, Carrie suspected, would normally have been a restful haven—felt like a restrictive prison. What was happening? Where was Luc? She was tempted to go down to the harbour herself, to find out what was going on. In fact she would go down to the harbour, Carrie decided determinedly, hurrying back into the castle.
She was just walking past the doors leading to a corridor that led to the area of the castle used for administrative and governmental offices when they opened and Luc came out.
There was a smudge of dirt across his forehead and what looked like a sooty mark spoiling the immaculate appearance of his suit.
‘Luc?’ Carrie demanded, standing in front of him. ‘What’s happening? They’re saying that one of the yachts in the marina exploded.’
‘Yes,’ Luc agreed tersely.
Carrie went pale.
‘Not Jay’s?’ she exclaimed anxiously.
Immediately Luc’s mouth thinned. ‘No, it was not my cousin’s—although I am sure he will be delighted to know
how concerned you are for him. In fact the yacht in question was fortunately unoccupied, although that does not negate the seriousness of the situation. I don’t believe for one minute that the individuals who planted the bomb that caused the damage had any intention of actually injuring anyone, but—’
‘A bomb?’ Carrie’s voice betrayed her shocked disbelief. ‘Someone put a bomb on one of the yachts? But who on earth would do such a thing, here in S’Antander? This kind of behaviour can’t be condoned by the majority of protestors. Their behaviour has always been peaceful until now, hasn’t it?’
She was still shaking her head, unable to comprehend what had happened, when Jay himself came striding down the corridor towards them, announcing, ‘I’ve only just heard the news. I had to fly out to a business meeting in Zurich this morning and I’ve only now got back. I suppose they hit on Zurafi’s yacht because of all the bad press he’s been getting lately—speculation about his involvement in arms dealing. I’ve got to warn you, Luc, there’s one of a hell of a lot of worried noise coming from the international tax exile crowd. This has made them decidedly jittery. You and S’Antander are going to be in a vulnerable position if—’
‘I do realise the danger, Jay.’ Carrie heard Luc interrupt his cousin tersely. ‘But right now there is very little I can do about it. Of course there are those who have made it plain that they favour having the perpetrators hunted down and flung in some convenient and highly unpleasant dungeon—and I realise that I must find those responsible and they must be punished for their crime—but of course that is exactly what these young idiots hope will happen. That way they would be turned into political martyrs overnight, instead of being seen as merely a bunch of idealistic troublemakers, and bring down the full wrath of the Human Rights Commission upon us. As if things weren’t difficult enough…’
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Jay asked him.
When Luc made no response Jay exploded irritably.
‘Oh, come on, Luc—you can’t just let them get away with it.’
Luc’s eyebrows rose.
‘Okay, okay.’ Jay backed off immediately, spreading his hands in a gesture of apology.
‘You’re the boss here, Luc. What you say goes!’
‘In my grandfather’s day that might have been true, but today…’ Luc frowned and turned to look out of the window. He seemed very distracted, and, Carrie suspected, he had forgotten that she was even there.
‘I’m booked on a flight for New York tonight,’ Jay told him. ‘I’ve got an urgent meeting I can’t get out of. But if you need me, Luc, or if there’s anything I can do…’
Carrie watched as the two men embraced. They really were amazingly alike, especially in profile, and to the casual observer might even have passed as twins.
After Jay had gone Luc turned to look at Carrie.
‘I’ve made arrangements for you to be driven to Milan the day after tomorrow,’ he told her flatly. ‘You’re going to need a suitable wedding dress, and it seems that only two designers can guarantee to have one made for you in time. Appointments have been made for you to attend their salons. I had intended to go with you myself, but under the circumstances…’
His high-handed attitude infuriated Carrie. But his words also sent a juddering sense of anxiety knifing through her at the thought of their upcoming marriage.
‘Of course you can’t go now, Luc. You’ll be far too busy bullying and terrifying these “activists”. But then you like doing things like that, don’t you? And, though their latest methods are unsound, has it occurred to you yet that they might have a point? That in some people’s eyes, you are the one in the wrong? Some people—decent, right-thinking people—would be appalled and…and disgusted at the thought of a ruler who supports and protects people who have acquired their wealth in the ways those exiles they are protesting against have done. But then you don’t care what other people think or feel, do you Luc? You never have and you ever will.’
‘That’s enough.’
The harsh sound of Luc’s voice brought her outburst to trembling silence.
‘For your information,’ Luc continued, but stopped speaking as the double doors burst open and an agitated aide hurried up to him.
‘Highness—there has been a communication from…from the activists. It is addressed to you…’
‘Give it to me,’ Luc commanded him grimly.
Carrie watched tensely as he opened and then read the missive he had been handed.
‘What does it say?’ she asked.
For a moment she thought he was going to refuse to reply, but after dismissing the hovering aide he said curtly, ‘It says that the bombings will continue until I agree to meet their terms.’
‘Their terms…?’
Before she could get any further the doors opened again, this time to admit several of the senior members of the council, one of whom demanded tersely, ‘Highness—is it true? Have they actually dared to make demands? My God, in your grandfather’s day they would have lost their liberty for such an outrage. He would never have tolerated such actions. Treasonable actions, Luc, which by rights—’
‘Henri, calm down. Otherwise you will cause yourself a second heart attack,’ Carrie heard Luc caution the older man dryly.
‘What about the fifth Centenary celebrations and your marriage, Highness?’ another official was asking anxiously. ‘Ought they to be cancelled? Will it be safe?’
Carrie held her breath. Was she going to be allowed to escape from the situation Luc had forced her into after all?
Silently she prayed that she might be, but to her disappointment Luc refused to answer the question outright, saying calmly instead, ‘We already know that there are serious and complex questions at issue here, and because of that I intend to call a full council meeting. In the meantime the public and our people need to be reassured that they are safe, and to that end I shall give orders that those activists who are known to us are to be taken into custody.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
CARRIE couldn’t believe just how quickly the last three weeks had passed. She had been kept busy with a plethora of appointments and minor semi-official functions, all of which she had had to attend without Luc, since he had been out of the country for most of this time on matters of state business.
But now he was back for their wedding!
She gave a small shudder. She didn’t want to think about the number of hours she had wasted thinking about him, and she certainly did not want to admit to the amount of sleep she had lost, not just thinking about him but…Determinedly she switched her thoughts away from her own emotions to concentrate instead on those of her maid.
Benita was most definitely not herself!
‘Is something wrong, Benita?’ Carrie asked her maid sympathetically, whilst she waited for Benita to help her to dress for the formal dinner Luc was giving that evening. She hadn’t seen him all week, and the last time she had seen him they had quarrelled again, with her coming off worst. She had thought about refusing to attend tonight’s dinner, but warily she recognised that Luc was fully capable of storming her bedroom and dressing her himself, if he saw fit!
‘You look very pale,’ she told her maid in concern. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’
To Carrie’s dismay the maid’s eyes brimmed with huge tears, whilst the lips she had pressed firmly together in an effort to control her emotions began to tremble.
‘Benita!’ Carrie protested. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing…It…I…’ Benita shook her head, fighting for self-control, but her emotions overwhelmed her. ‘It is my cousin,’ she wept. ‘He has been taken into custody by the authorities. They suspect him of being…of…He did not mean any harm. He just believes—’ She stopped. ‘He is only sixteen, and his mother—my aunt—is a widow. I am so afraid for him…’
Fresh tears filled her eyes, and Carrie, with a vulnerable brother of her own to worry about, ached with sympathy and understanding for her.
‘We had no idea t
hat he was involved—’ Benita broke off again, and bit her lip. ‘We cannot find out where he is, and we have not been allowed to speak with him. It has been over two weeks since he was arrested and my aunt is beside herself…’
It was too much for Carrie to bear.
‘Benita, why on earth didn’t you say something before? What is his name?’ she asked impetuously. ‘I shall speak to L—to his Highness and try to find out where he is for you.’
Immediately the other girl’s face was wreathed in a sparkling smile of gratitude, whilst Carrie realised sink-ingly what she had done. It was too late for her to regret her impetuosity now though!
Carrie had chosen her outfit for the dinner carefully, fully prepared to do for her maid’s sake what she would never have dreamed of doing for her own—and that was create the right impression to placate Luc and hopefully put him in the kind of mood where he would be open to an appeal on behalf of Benita’s young cousin.
Her admirable intentions lasted just as long as it took her to discover that the Countess was one of the dinner guests!
Carrie had barely had time to do more than take a sip of her pre-dinner cocktail before the Countess swept up to Luc, her lips pursing disapprovingly as she glared at Carrie.
‘So, Luc,’ she began, ‘what is to be done about this disgraceful business? You will have to cancel the wedding now, of course, and the Fifth Centenary celebrations! It simply will not be safe. How can we invite foreign dignitaries to our country when at any moment they could be blown apart by these dangerous criminals who seem so determined to destroy everything your grandfather worked for?’
Before Carrie could stop herself she heard herself protesting hotly. ‘While I firmly oppose some of their methods, I strongly believe that the majority of these activists are not criminals; they are simply a group of people who have ideals and moral beliefs! And quite frankly—’
‘What? You support them?’ The Countess stopped her furiously. ‘Luc, have you heard this?’ she exclaimed. ‘Mind you, I suppose it is only to be expected. You see how unfit she is to be your wife?’ she demanded, her mouth thinning. ‘As a member of the ruling class of this country, Luc, I can only deplore what is happening. But as your godmother,’ she added mock piously, ‘I must say I am relieved that this shocking event has revealed just how impossible it is for you to marry this…this person. The wedding will have to be cancelled immediately, and an announcement made to the effect that your betrothal is at an end.’