‘He,’ Randal drawled wryly, and stepped forwards. The yearling was jet-black, its coat rich and silky. Randal patted its strong muscled neck. ‘He needs a little breaking in, of course. High spirited...just like his namesake.’
Her vanity was aroused. ‘Are you really calling him Miss Lucy’s Passion?’
‘Of course,’ he said coolly. ‘But I can assure you I wouldn’t have paid cold hard cash for an indulgence. His father was Black Jake. He won the National four times in a row. If his colt doesn’t win every major race, I’ll want to know why.’
‘Oh, he’s a fast one, sir,’ Heaphy said at once.
Randal smiled with satisfaction. ‘Blood always tells.’ He patted the yearling again, then stepped away. ‘Thank you, Heaphy. I’ll drive down later in the week, check up on him.’
‘Right you are, sir.’ The Irishman tilted his cap with respect.
Randal turned and led Lucy away again. ‘Shall we have some coffee before we drive back to London?’
‘Why do you even bother to ask?’ Lucy gave him a cool look. ‘You never take any notice of my refusals.’
He laughed as they walked out of the stable block, into the sunlight and fresh air. The scent of horses permeated everywhere. It occurred to her that Randal had many different lives. This atmosphere of nature and fresh air was utterly opposite to the sophistication of the casino.
They went into the main house, and Lucy looked around at the open-plan design with surprise. It was so unlike Mallory. The room they stood in was at least fifty feet long, very bright and modern, rather like an expensive French farmhouse with its stone walls and cavernous ceiling, stark masculine furniture in beige and brown and a circular staircase moving up at the left.
‘Do you live here?’ she asked him later, as they stood in the bright, modern kitchen.
‘Sometimes,’ he drawled.
‘So you have three homes?’
A cool smile touched his hard mouth. ‘I have a low boredom threshold. If I spend too much time at the casino, I start to yearn for wide open spaces and green grass. If I spend too much time here—I start to yearn for sin and sophistication and glamour.’
‘And Mallory?’ she asked, excited by his words.
‘Mallory’s my base,’ he drawled. ‘It’s also home. Home in a way no other place could be. There are generations of my family there. In paintings, plaques, books, memories—even ghosts.’
Her brows rose. ‘Ghosts!’
Randal laughed, leaning lazily, hands in trouser pockets. ‘There are several ghosts at Mallory. My favourite is Lord Anthony Mallory. He was the Highwayman. He had a secret passage built, leading from his bedroom to the stables.’
‘Is it still there?’ she asked, round-eyed.
‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded coolly. ‘Remind me to show you some time. I used to explore it a lot when I first bought the house. I used to go around looking at the portraits of my ancestors all the time. It strengthened my sense of Mallory blood, put me in deeper touch with my true family.’
Lucy studied him, then heard herself say slowly, ‘Did you know my grandfather was illegitimate?’
There was an acute silence. Randal put his cup down, not looking at her, and said coolly, ‘Yes, I knew that. His natural father was an Earl, wasn’t he?’
Lucy nodded, studying his tough face through her lashes. Suddenly, she felt overpoweringly aware of him. Her pulses were leaping, and she was tongue-tied.
To try and break the silence, she said lightly, ‘Do you know, I’ve been in this room for five minutes, and you haven’t said one thing that’s made me want to hit you yet.’
‘I must remedy that,’ he drawled, flicking those wicked blue eyes to meet hers.
‘Oh, no, please don’t!’ she said, lifting haughty blonde brows. ‘It’s such a refreshing change not to feel on the edge of explosion.’
‘I must unquestionably remedy that,’ he said darkly, moving towards her.
Lucy backed, heart thumping. ‘No, you don’t!’
‘But that’s what I want,’ he said softly. ‘To push you to the edge of explosion and then detonate you.’
Her breath caught as he reached for her, and then she darted away, evading his hard hands. Running out into the corridor, she saw a door and thought it might lead out to the garden. Pushing it open, she stumbled in, breathless.
Too late, she realised it was a bedroom.
‘Oh...!’ Staring at the long, low double bed dominating the vast wood and stone room, Lucy’s heart began to thump with abrupt violence. She spun to face Randal as he entered the doorway.
‘Good choice,’ he drawled mockingly, and closed the door.
Quivering with sudden fierce desire, she angrily fought it, saying, ‘I had no idea this was a bedroom!’
‘Instinct brought you here,’ he said softly, walking towards her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ She backed, heart thudding. ‘Let me out at once!’
‘You don’t want to leave,’ he said, advancing.
‘I’m only twenty-three!’ she said fiercely. ‘I’m innocent and untouched!’
‘And dying of frustration.’
Her legs hit the back of the bed. She fell backwards on to it, heart thumping, staring up at him with blazing, greedy eyes as waves of intense need flooded her body at the sight of him standing over a double bed looking down at her like this.
CHAPTER FIVE
RANDAL watched her in silence for a long moment, his face very close. Lucy felt as though she was looking into his eyes for the first time.
‘Lie back on the bed,’ he said under his breath.
Lucy just stared at him, her heart beating very fast.
Suddenly, he shouldered out of his jacket. Lucy’s breath caught sharply. He threw the jacket to the floor and began to unbutton his tight black waistcoat.
‘No!’ She leapt away, but he caught her by the wrist and jerked her back as though she were a rag doll, suddenly making her aware of his real strength for the first time. Landing on her back, she sprawled, breathless, staring up at his dangerous face.
‘You’ve wanted this for a long time,’ he said under his breath.
‘No...’
‘Alone in a bedroom with me,’ he said softly, eyes dark with desire. ‘I see it in you, Lucy. You’re going out of your mind with frustration.’
‘It’s not true!’ She was shaking, her blood pulsing hotly. ‘It’s not true...’
His head moved closer, his hard mouth inches from hers. ‘Don’t you ever want to scream, Lucy?’
Her eyes closed. She shuddered. ‘No...’
‘Don’t you ever want to break things?’ he whispered, and his mouth was suddenly against her throat, sliding along the naked white skin tormentingly. ‘To scream and smash that kitchen apart and tell those two men who guard you to let you live your own life?’
‘Oh, God...’ she whispered thickly, her hand clutching his head as intolerable need pulsed through her. ‘Don’t...’
His mouth moved back to hers. ‘Your body needs love. It’s clamouring for a man’s touch. I can feel it. So can you. Give me your hand. Listen to your own body...listen...’ He took her hand, raised it to the throbbing pulse in her throat. ‘You want me...say yes...give in to your own desire...’
She moaned, lips parting, staring up at him, blood pounding in her ears as she stared at his hard mouth, felt her breath come faster, waves of desire flooding her.
‘You always respond,’ he said thickly. ‘Every time I kiss you, touch you. Then you pull away, end your own pleasure. Why?’
‘Because I hate you!’ she whispered, staring at his mouth.
‘No. You’re punishing yourself. Refusing to give yourself what you need. Like a starving woman refusing food.’
‘It’s not the same thing!’ she said thickly, shaking with desire, hands on his broad shoulders.
‘Yes, it is, Lucy.’ One strong hand stroked slowly down to cup her breast, his blue eyes watching her with dark, ruthless intent as he slowly circled his finge
rs over her breast, and her erect nipple thrust out in stark excitement as he stroked it tormentingly.
‘Don’t, don’t...’ she whispered. ‘Oh...don’t...’
He did not stop; his fingers were unbearably exciting, his face hard.
Suddenly, Lucy gave a hoarse moan of need, and was pulling his dark head down, lifting her face, her mouth passionately parted, and as his lips met hers they fell back together on the bed, the kiss blazing into a reckless fire of intolerable sweetness.
Her hands were in his hair, stroking the strong neck, and suddenly she found her fingers sliding over his dark red silk tie, sliding down to the unbuttoned black waistcoat that hung loose round his taut muscled chest.
She felt him push the silk camisole slowly, slowly up until her breast was bared to him, and as she felt his hand on her naked flesh she completely lost control.
Mindless, drowning in pleasure, Lucy tugged his tie and a second later he was loosening it with deft fingers, throwing it to the floor, and she kissed him with uncontrollable passion as she unbuttoned his white shirt to the waist, and buried her face against that hard-muscled hair-roughened chest.
Randal gave a harsh sound of excitement, and clutched her head to his bare chest. ‘Oh, yes...yes...’ His heart was slamming violently as Lucy’s hot mouth crawled over his flesh. Lucy tore his shirt wide open, explored his torso with her hands and mouth, totally engrossed in her discovery of his body and her own excitement in touching him.
With a groan, he moved from her, tilting her head back as he slid his own mouth to her breast, stroking her with long fingers. She moaned and whispered his name. His tongue slid out over her nipple. Lucy arched against him, gasping, ‘Oh, yes...yes...yes!’ and his mouth came back to hers, their kiss blazing higher, tongues and breath mingling in erotic intensity.
When he tugged the silk camisole over her head she knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t...she wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel those hands on her nakedness, and the pleasure as his hands rubbed her breasts was beyond endurance.
Their naked torsos met as Lucy gave a thick, hoarse cry of sheer pleasure, moving wantonly against his hard hair-roughened chest, her aching breasts rubbing against him in instinctive need. His mouth closed shakingly over hers, and they were both gasping, pressing together, their bodies tangling on the bed in a mêlée of thudding hearts and hot flesh.
Suddenly, he dragged his mouth from hers and he was deeply flushed, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his strong hands gripping her jean-clad thighs as he stared down at her wanton seminude body.
‘We must stop now,’ he said thickly. ‘Or I won’t be able to stop.’
Lucy stared at him feverishly, dazed and shaking from head to foot. She could barely move, let alone speak. She felt like a quivering mass of jelly. Nothing that had ever happened to her had prepared her for the engulfing passion she had just experienced.
‘Did I prove my point?’ Randal asked suddenly, watching her with narrowed glittering eyes.
Bitterness flashed in her passionate eyes. ‘Yes...!’ She raked one hand down his chest, black hairs crinkling beneath her fingers as she felt his hard thudding heartbeat. ‘Oh, yes, you proved your point! But I still hate you for it!’
‘Hate me, then!’ he drawled cruelly. ‘You still gave me what I wanted, and I only wish Edward were here to witness your fall from grace.’
The words were almost a physical blow. She stared in shock as the colour drained from her face.
Randal laughed, enjoying her pain. ‘And you profess to love him!’ He moved away from her, getting off the bed, smiling cruelly as her appalled eyes watched him start to button up his shirt.
Appalled, she crossed her arms in front of her naked breasts, whispering, ‘My God...you swine...you did that deliberately to make me—’
‘I didn’t make you do anything, Lucy,’ he said flatly, knotting his tie. ‘You did it all by yourself.’
Rage flared in her eyes. ‘You know I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t—’
‘All I did was kiss you,’ he said, arching black brows as he buttoned his black waistcoat. ‘You did the rest. And very nice, too.’ He laughed with cynical mockery. ‘You really let the genie out of the box, didn’t you? Good girl. I knew you had it in you.’ He picked up his jacket, turned on his heel, strode to the door and unlocked it. ‘I’ll be in the car,’ he said over one broad shoulder. ‘Come out when you’re ready to face me and I’ll drive you home.’
The door slammed behind him and Lucy knew she had a choice: either she collapsed in tears and self-hatred for behaving like such a whore, or she pulled herself together, forgave her own stupid actions, and showed him just how strong she could be.
There wasn’t really much of a decision to be made. He’d pushed her into that display. He’d deliberately played on her vulnerability, alone in a bedroom with him, frustrated...
Her cheeks flared with hot humiliated colour. All right! she thought furiously. So maybe I am frustrated. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love Edward—or that Edward doesn’t love me! It just means Edward and I want to wait until we’re married before we start behaving like wild animals.
Forcing herself to be calm, she dragged on her camisole, walked to the dressing-table, picked up a comb and dragged it through her blonde hair. She rearranged her camisole so that she looked coolly respectable, then steeled herself to face him.
He was waiting in the long white sports car, lounging at the wheel, one arm resting on the open window.
Lucy walked to the car, head held high, and got in, slamming the door and looking at him down her nose, deliberately as arrogant as possible.
Randal’s hard mouth crooked into a smile. ‘A swift recovery. I’m impressed. No self-torture or recriminations, then?’
‘None,’ she said coldly. ‘I didn’t instigate that. You did. If anyone deserves to be tortured, it’s you.’
He laughed and started the car. ‘And what will you tell Edward?’
‘Nothing,’ she said icily.
‘Good,’ murmured Randal with a flick of his black lashes. ‘That means your relationship with me is already stronger than your relationship with him.’
Lucy glared at him, face colouring furiously. ‘It means no such thing! I happen to love Edward and I—’
‘Do me a favour,’ he drawled, steering the powerful car out through the gates as they swung open for him. ‘Stop telling me you love Edward Blair.’
‘Why?’ she asked, hoping to hurt. ‘Does it bother you?’
‘Not in the least,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘I’m only after your body—remember? You can love anyone you want, so long as I get the response I’m after—and it’s not romantic.’
Her eyes darted across his strong profile. She felt hurt by that. Although why that should be she couldn’t understand, because not only did she not love Randal—she didn’t even like him.
‘If you’re so interested in my body,’ she asked in an icy voice, ‘why did you stop making love to me just now?’
‘I wanted to teach you a lesson,’ he said flatly. ‘And I believe I did. A lesson you won’t ever forget, Miss Winslow.’
‘I’ll certainly make sure I’m never alone with you again,’ she snapped.
‘But will you be able to?’ he said softly. ‘That is the question.’
‘Well, if I ever am alone with you again,’ she flared, stung, ‘I’ll just lie back and think of Edward when you start to pester me with your disgusting attentions!’
He laughed mockingly. ‘You’re the one who couldn’t keep her hands off me, Lucy!’
She snapped, trying to hit out at him blindly. ‘You bastard! You—’
He slammed on the brakes on the quiet country road and turned to her, catching her wrists and holding them bitingly until she stopped struggling, and gave a gasp of furious pain as she stared with blazing green eyes into his hateful face.
‘I’ll always win, Lucy,’ he drawled mockingly, controlling her with ease. ‘But I
like to see you fight. It amuses me to see you wriggle so passionately. You look like a furious cat, hissing and spitting.’
‘You ought to have been a torturer!’ she spat. ‘You’d have loved your work!’
He laughed softly, eyes narrowing on her flushed face. ‘Am I torturing you, Lucy?’
Her mouth shook. ‘I hate you more than any man I’ve ever met!’
A hard smile curved his mouth. ‘That’s fine with me. Just don’t make me crash the car or you’ll never get the chance to stick a hatchet in my head.’
Lucy refused to laugh, jerking her face away, tensely coiled with anger. Randal released her wrists, took off the handbrake, and the car slid away again while Lucy stared furiously out of the window, wishing there was some way to beat him.
They drove back to London in that same tense silence. When they arrived at her house, she tried to get out of the car without saying a word, imagining he would stop her, pull her back for a kiss.
But he didn’t. She stepped out on to the pavement, slammed the door, and then just stood there, pale with shock as she watched the white sports car slide away in the darkness.
Why had he let her go like that? Was it possible that he did not intend to come back again? The thought sent a shard of fear and pain through her. She felt suddenly lost, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Then she went into the house and found it empty. She wondered where her father was, where Edward was. Thinking of Edward made guilt flood through her in waves.
‘Oh, God, what have I done...’ she whispered, hands flying to her face as the full impact of her blazing, reckless passion with Randal on that bed hit her right between the eyes.
She had betrayed Edward—betrayed their lifelong love, their trust, their betrothal. What kind of girl was she? To behave so wantonly with that cruel, cynical man who had expressly told her he wanted only her body. She despised herself; remembered with horror her desire for him, the feverish way she had pushed his shirt open, buried her face hungrily against his flesh, kissing him, stroking him, lifting her head for another of his blazing kisses, and let him pull her camisole off, touch her bare torso and kiss her breasts.
Extreme Provocation Page 7