A High Price to Pay (16 page)

Alison was mute with embarrassment, hot with shame as she tried

desperately to cover herself with her hands, knowing, as she did so,

that it was already far too late.

Never taking his eyes from her, Nick bent and righted the fallen

dressing stool, then shrugged off his dinner jacket, dropping it across

the padded seat. He pulled his black tie loose and discarded that too,

and, still in silence, began to unfasten his shirt.

She found a voice from somewhere. 'I want you to leave—now.'

His mouth twisted. 'I don't think you know what you want. You're

two women, Mrs Bristow, do you know that? All prim, businesslike

self-control on the outside, but underneath--' there was a disturbingly

husky note in his voice, as he pulled off his shirt, 'a little sexy siren,

just waiting to be discovered. You're not sending me away now,

darling. I intend to explore these hidden depths of yours to the full.'

'You—you can't!' Shocked, Alison tried to rally her flagging

defiance. 'I won't let you!'

He smiled rather cynically. 'I'm not seeking your permission.'

'You promised me.' She lifted her chin, her tone lashing him

scornfully. 'You said you wouldn't ask again.'

'And I'm not asking either,' he said softly. 'This time I'm taking.'

'I should have known I couldn't trust you!' Alison tried to edge

sideways. It had suddenly occurred to her that a swift, undignified

scramble across that enormous bed would bring her almost within

reach of the bathroom door, which could be bolted behind her. It

wasn't much of a refuge, but she couldn't believe that Nick would risk

alerting the entire household by kicking a door down to get to her.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, trying

unobtrusively to estimate the distance that divided her from her

sanctuary.

He laughed. 'Then isn't it good to know that your low opinion of me is

perfectly justified?' he mocked.

Alison drew a breath and dived sideways for the bed, trying to fling

herself across its unruffled surface. But Nick was too quick for her.

As she tried to roll sideways he was there too, his weight pinning her

remorselessly to the yielding mattress.

'Such ardour!' he jeered softly. 'I would have carried you, darling, if

you'd just waited another second.' With insulting ease, he pinioned

both her wrists with one hand. 'Just in case you're tempted to try your

wildcat tactics again,' he told her, smiling faintly down into her

dilated eyes. 'I don't intend to spend my married life permanently

scarred.'

'Then let me go.' She was reduced to begging now, but slowly, he

shook his head.

'Not this time, Alison. As we've previously established, celibacy

doesn't suit me.' He slid a finger under one fragile shoulder strap and

then the other, drawing them gently down her slender arms. As he did

so, the lace that covered her breasts began to slip down too, revealing

their soft rose-tipped curves to the intensity of his gaze. His dark head

bent, and gently his mouth caressed each taut nipple in turn, making

her gasp out loud as she was transfixed by a shaft of heated,

unwelcome pleasure. He said quietly, 'And I don't think it suits you

either, my innocent wife,' murmuring the words against her warm

flesh.

'Don't pretend you haven't found adequate consolation.' Alison's own

voice sounded faintly slurred, even to her own ears. The seductive

movement of his lips and tongue against her reluctant skin was

making it difficult for her to think coherently, never mind speak.

He lifted his head and stared down at her, his face hardening, the dark

flush along his cheekbones deepening perceptibly. Then he shrugged.

'Believe what you want,' he said curtly. He sat up, and for a moment

she thought her jibe had secured a reprieve for her, but he had moved

only to facilitate the removal of the rest of his clothes, she soon

realised.

She closed her eyes tightly, blocking out the sight of him, trying

desperately to find some way of armouring her vulnerable senses and

emotions against this enforced possession.

She had thought simply becoming Nick's wife in name only as a high

price to pay for Ladymead and the security of her family. Now, she

realised, she had not known the half of it. Once she belonged to him,

she would have no defences left, and no self-respect either. Wife or

not, to Nick she would be just another conquest, a novelty because

she had actually had the temerity to resist his previous advances.

His mouth brushed hers, softly and sensuously. 'Now it's your turn,'

he whispered.

He unfastened her suspenders and rolled down her delicate stockings,

his hands slow and infinitely careful, his mouth caressing every inch

of her slender legs from her trembling thighs down to her arched

insteps.

A little sigh was impelled from her, and her body twisted restlessly,

seeking an appeasement she barely understood.

'Take it easy, sweetheart,' Nick muttered huskily. 'We have a hell of a

way to go yet.'

He kissed her lips deeply and urgently, parting their softness so that

he could explore her mouth's moist inner warmth. For a moment she

was passive beneath the unaccustomed intimacy, then slowly, stiffly,

as if they were acting of their own volition, her arms lifted and locked

round his neck, and she returned the kiss, shyly at first, and then with

shuddering pleasure, now that the exploration was mutual.

His hands were stroking her breasts, his long fingers teasing the

aroused peaks, creating a torrid, shaking excitement in her innermost

being. It was almost shaming to discover how swift and ready her

responses were, but impossible to deny or conceal them.

His mouth left hers to imprint little kisses across her temples and

cheekbones, brushing her hair aside to seek the whorls and crevices

of her ears, and the sensitivity of her pulsating throat.

She felt the shiver of silk against her body in the gentlest of frictions

as Nick's sure hands uncovered her completely. He raised himself

slightly away from her, his eyes glittering as he took in every inch of

her slender nakedness, his hand sweeping down her body from

shoulder to thigh in a gesture of total ownership.

Her eyes were cloudy with desire, her breath sighing through

passion-swollen lips as she looked back at him.

He drew a sharp, harsh breath, then his hand moved—sought her,

found her with a devastating intimacy, his touch silk and fire as he

caressed her, his fingers lingering, pressuring, luring her body to open

to him and yield up its final secret.

His mouth possessed her breasts again with a new fierceness, a new

demand, and she moaned in her throat, savouring a fresh, more urgent

delight as his lips tugged at her tumescent nipples.

Her hands slid down the long length of his spine as she arched herself

against his body, lifting her slender hips in silent surrender to his

invasive strength.

'Dear God, you take my breath away!' The husky words seemed torn

out of his throat, his hands continuing their expert, devilish,

miraculous incitement of her.

She was reaching some crisis point; every instinct in her

pleasure-racked body told her that. She could hear a voice, only just

recognisable as her own, whispering, 'Oh, please—oh, please .. over

and over again.

Nick groaned something in reply, then his body moved over hers in

stark purpose.

At first there was pain, but the torment of needing to be one with him

was greater, she discovered, as her inexperienced body unclenched to

receive him. He was still for a long moment, gently brushing the tiny

beads of sweat from her forehead with his lips, then kissing her eyes,

and the tip of her small straight nose as he traced a sensuous path back

to her lips.

Mouths locked, bodies locked, they began to move together. He was

being gentle with her, she knew, but there was no need. The warmth

of his body against hers, the heat of him inside her were triggering

new and devastating responses. Digging her hands into his shoulders,

she twined her legs round him in mute offering. At once, the rhythm

of his possession deepened, intensified as he allowed full rein to his

own needs.

And suddenly she was lost, submerged and drowning in a wild, sweet

violence of sensation which transcended all other human experience.

She cried out her joy against his kiss, and felt his lean, powerful body

shudder in her arms.

The aftermath held a peace more complete than she had ever known.

She rested in Nick's embrace, her mind floating, drifting in dreamlike

contentment. When at last he moved, she uttered a small throaty

protest, then relaxed again as she felt the bedcovers drawn over her.

Nick slid down beside her, pulling her against him so that her head

was pillowed on his chest. She turned her face into his body, relishing

the warm scent of him, the firm texture of his skin, then, murmuring

drowsily, she fell asleep.

* * *

of the alarm. She stretched out an arm to switch the buzzer off, then

paused, her attention caught by an unfamiliar sound—the gushing of

water, not too far away.

She frowned, propping herself up on one elbow as she listened. There

was no mistaking it. It was the sound of the shower in her bathroom.

She shook her head, pushing back her tumbled hair, then paused, her

attention totally arrested as she saw the scatter of discarded clothing

on the floor. The warm clouds of sleep still enveloping her brain were

dispelled with a vengeance as the memory of what had happened the

previous night flooded back to her. She collapsed back against her

pillows, her heart banging crazily against her ribs, as every detail

unfolded in her mind's eye, like some erotic action replay.

Oh God, she moaned silently, lifting her hands to her burning face. So

all her pride, her fierce determination to keep Nick at arms' length at

all costs had faltered and failed at the first challenge!

She closed her eyes, wishing that she wasn't blessed, or cursed, with

such total recall. Then, perhaps, she might have forgotten those last

dreaming moments in Nick's arms before sleep claimed her, and the

way she had whispered, 'I love you' into his skin.

Of all the pathetic, humiliating confessions! Alison lashed herself,

her small teeth digging viciously into her lower lip. Not content with

losing a major battle, she had practically surrendered the war as well

by revealing the pitiful extent of her obsession with him. Wasn't it

enough that her body no longer held any secrets for him? she asked

herself painfully. Had he really had to ravish her mind and emotions

too? She felt exposed, vulnerable and frightened as she listened to the

rush of water.

The forgotten alarm sounded stridently, and she jumped almost

guiltily, harassed by another thought. In a few minutes Mrs Horner

would be arriving with her morning tea, and the thought of her face,

when confronted by the blatant evidence of what had taken place the

previous night, galvanised Alison into sudden frenzied activity.

She snatched a pair of her usual practical pyjamas from a drawer and

put them on, fumbling the buttons into their holes in her haste. If she'd

only stuck to simple chain store undies instead of succumbing to the

glamour of all that silk and lace, she might have less to regret this

morning, she thought wretchedly, as she snatched up the clothes on

the floor and bundled them out of sight into the nearest wardrobe.

'Tidying up?' Nick's approach had been silent across the thick pile of

the carpet, and Alison started as his arms went round her, drawing her

back against him. He smelled cool, damp and fresh and the prompting

to relax into his embrace, turning willingly into his arms, was almost

irresistible. Instead, she tensed, pushing at his hands.

'What's the matter?' he asked.

'Mrs Horner will be here at any moment with my tea,' she said flatly.

He shrugged negligently. 'That's all right. We'll send her back for

another cup.'

Alison took a deep breath. 'But I'd prefer you not be found here—if

you don't mind,' she added hurriedly, conscious that the muscles in

the encircling arms had tautened.

'I think I do mind,' Nick said after a pause. 'I'm your husband, and I

think that entitles me to be here. And as Mrs Horner has been married

herself for nearly thirty years, she's hardly likely to be shattered by

the realisation that we've slept together.'

Alison felt colour heat her skin. 'Nevertheless,' she began, but he

interrupted her, turning her inexorably to face him, and running a