Innocent in His Diamonds (11 page)

They both dismounted and he took her reins and stared down at her. ‘You live your life in unabashed emotion. Unbridled passion is great in the bedroom, but in the real world all it does is let you down. I prefer not to become embroiled in the inevitable messy aftermath. Once was enough.'

‘Since I don't recall offering myself to you on a silver platter, I'm assuming your ego is once again in full residence? Or are you just too scared to take a chance on feeling anything other than bitterness for the rest of your life because your belief in love and happiness was shattered once?'

He inhaled sharply. ‘Love? Don't confuse love with sex or duty, Ana. Sex has a limited shelf-life and duty is very easy to shirk when it becomes too burdensome.'

His face contorted into a mask of pain before he exhaled and blinked it away. But that wasn't before her heart lurched at the stark insight into Bastien's beliefs.

‘Bastien—'

‘Chantal will have breakfast ready. Go ahead. I'll meet you in the dining room shortly.'

The content, smiling Bastien from the hilltop had disappeared. Impassive, corporate Bastien was back, his face giving nothing away as he led the horses off.

Ana walked slowly back to the château, Bastien's words haunting her. Their bleakness lodged a thorn in her heart. Had the events of sixteen years ago affected him so much that he'd shut off his heart completely?

Wrenching the tie from her ponytail, she speared her fingers through her hair. She had no business feeling sorry for Bastien. Feeling sorry for the fact that he wouldn't let himself feel, or want, or need. And she absolutely had no business wishing he would feel for her, or want or even need her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
ASTIEN
PUT
THE
phone down and scrubbed a hand over his face. Three days and his investigators had come up empty. Whoever had framed Ana had covered their tracks very well. The police had reported no fingerprints on the inhaler. Not even Ana's...

He frowned.

He'd seen first-hand the extraordinary measures to which people would go to gain wealth and power. How ruthless and determined people could be.

Sixteen years ago Lily Duval had set her deadly sights on his father and employed an almost obsessive single-mindedness in order to seduce him away from his wife and rip his family apart.

And she'd succeeded. That last day in Verbier was for ever etched in his memory—and not just because of his mother's blotched, tearstained face as she'd pleaded with his father, nor the roar of his father's car as he'd driven off, a triumphant Lily Duval by his side.

It was the day his parents had rejected him completely. The day he'd learned to shut off his emotions once and for all.

The silence especially was what he remembered most. He'd retreated to the icy-cold gazebo, his sanctuary, where he'd known no one would disturb him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed and then he'd heard his father's hoarse, frantic call. Seen his ashen face. Watched Lily Duval's manic rage as she'd seen the life she'd almost attained disappearing.

Ana's serene composure had been most shocking of all. She hadn't even blinked when she'd been been instructed to fetch her things. As if she was used to it...

The library door opened, wrenching him from his thoughts.

Ana saw him and faltered. ‘Oh, I thought you were in your study—' She turned to leave, her willowy figure silhouetted perfectly in the hallway light.

He'd relocated to the library because of her. The layout of the château had never troubled him until he'd heard her speaking to her father in Spanish in the sitting room next to his study, her smoky voice hypnotic...enthralling.

Although aware she was half-Colombian, he knew very little about that side of her heritage. Hearing her speak the foreign tongue, the unmistakable excitement in her voice, had made him lose concentration more than once.

‘Come in. I need to talk to you.'

Her trepidation as she stepped into the room grated. Was he
that
unapproachable?

She sat and crossed her legs, and he tried not to let his gaze drop. He failed. Her long, shapely legs, bare and lightly tanned despite the time of year, made Bastien's blood rush a little faster through his veins.

Get a grip!

He picked up the file on his desk. ‘My investigators have drawn a blank.'

Her eyes widened. When she bit her lip, Bastien forced himself not to groan.

‘They found nothing at all?'

‘It seems not.'

A look flitted across her face, one she tried hard to mask. Bastien's suspicions prickled.

‘One thing puzzled me, though.'

Her wary gaze shot to his. ‘What?'

‘The police found no fingerprints on the inhaler. Not even yours.'

She shot up out of her chair, the movement causing her breasts to bounce. His hand tightened on the file.

‘What does that mean? You don't still think I'm lying about this, do you?'

The hurt in her voice caught him on the raw.

‘Calm down. I didn't say that. What aren't you telling me, Ana?'

Her face remained carefully neutral. ‘I'm not following you.'

He sat back in his chair. ‘You're holding something back. I don't want to think the worst—'

‘But you're going to anyway.'

He shrugged. ‘We both know how irrational women and men can be when they're fixated on something.'

She paled and sank back into her chair. Bastien's earlier niggle of doubt returned...expanded.

‘Let me get this straight. You think I'm fixated on you?' she whispered.

‘It's not beyond the realms of possibility.'

One shapely brow arched. ‘Really? Is there an app for that? Because I'd like to have one for Christmas.'

His jaw clenched. ‘Don't get flippant with me, Ana.'

‘And don't get too far up yourself, Bastien, or you might trip and break your neck. Need I remind you that everything that's happened between us so far has been mutual?' she threw at him, then surged out of her seat and headed for the door.

He was up and blocking her way before he'd even realised what he was doing. ‘This conversation isn't over.'

‘Yes, it is. To think I deluded myself into believing I was wrong about you. That you would be interested in helping me.'

She reached past him. He stayed her by taking her arm. Smooth skin registered beneath his fingers, her firm muscles clenching in resistance.

‘Ana, stop.'

‘Go to hell!' she snapped, then mauled at her lip again.

That single action caused his blood to boil, to pool somewhere decidedly south. This time he didn't want to still the movement with his hand. He wanted to use his mouth.

‘You're biting your lip again. Something's up.'

Her sigh released her trapped flesh. ‘You credit me with too much guile, Bastien. Trust me—I'm not worthy of it.'

‘Too late. I know just how beguiling and bewitching you can be when it suits you.'

Her slap came swift and hard. It stung. It also brought him alive in ways Bastien had never imagined. Within seconds he was hard, his erection strong and unstoppable. The hoarse, shaken sound that had emitted from her throat brought his attention to her sleek neck, to the frantic hammering pulse.

Without stopping to think, he lowered his head and flicked his tongue against it. Her shocked gasp washed over his jaw. Drawing her closer, he closed his mouth over her pulse, needing to connect with her life force.

‘No.'

Her protest was firm and solid—nothing like the debilitating weakness that flooded him.

He paused. Slowly he raised his head. Her eyes were pools of hurt, wide and aching. The vice in his chest tightened. When her lips worked as if she wanted to say more his gaze fell to her moist, plump mouth. It tempted him...a siren's call he couldn't resist.

With a suppressed groan, he started to lower his head again.

‘No,'
she stressed again. ‘I'm not fixated on you, Bastien.'

The words were said with a conviction that stopped his breath. But he wanted her to be. Just as he was fixated on her. She'd already succeeded in getting under his skin. She made him want everything he shouldn't.

Hell, last night he'd even found himself reaching for the phone. He'd been halfway to dialling his mother's cell phone before he'd stopped himself. Knowing she was responsible for him placing himself in a position of possible rejection should have made him angry. Instead something had shifted inside him, and the instincts that had seen him through some tough and tricky times had urged him down a different path. A shaky, unsettling path of
maybe
and...
hope
.

‘What aren't you telling me, Ana? If you want me to help you, talk to me.'

His breath stalled as he waited for her to answer.

Her eyes slid from his, distress evident in her face. ‘I...I've been wondering if my mother has anything to do with the drugs...'

Her gaze clashed with his for a fleeting second, then slid away again. But in that split moment he glimpsed deep hurt in their soulful depths.

Bastien realised how difficult it had been for her to admit that. And how brave. He cupped her face in his hands. The pulse of arousal still throbbed in his blood but an underlying tenderness rose out of nowhere—an urge to comfort her that swamped him, left him unable to breathe. He wanted to step back, to withdraw from the feeling, but he found he couldn't move. Found his hands gentling, his head dipping so he could look into her eyes.

‘Why do you think it was her?' he asked softly.

Her breath shuddered out. ‘She was fired from her job. She gets mean when she's upset, but after our conversation yesterday I'm not so sure...' She choked to a halt.

‘I'll have the investigators look into it.'

Her gaze anxiously searched his. ‘What if I'm wrong? I know you think I'm foolish, but if there's hope for our relationship I don't want to ruin it.'

Knowing the emotion he'd let himself entertain, how could he condemn her? ‘You're not foolish. And I'll make sure it's kept discreet.'

Her smile bloomed, lighting up her face. Lighting up inside him. Again something tightened in his chest—harder this time.

The ground shifted beneath his feet.

He wanted to block out her voice by whatever means necessary, to throw caution to the wind, sweep her into his arms and carry her to his bed. His gut tightened as every sense clamoured for just one more taste of her sensual lips. For a chance to cup her breasts, bury his face between them as he surged inside her.

She was casting a spell over him. He knew that. And yet he couldn't move away.

‘Thank you. Sorry I slapped you,' she tagged on, but a small smile teased her lips.

‘Why do I get the impression you don't really mean that?'

Her smile grew. ‘Because you've got a very suspicious mind?'

‘Maybe, but my instincts still warn me that you're dangerous to me, Ana Duval.' The words spilled out before he could stop them.

Her eyes widened. She gave a shocked laugh. ‘I'm not
dangerous
.'

With a twist of his body he reversed their places, backed her against the door. ‘Then why do I feel as if I have to have you or lose my mind?'

Heat blossomed in her cheeks. ‘You—you do?'

‘I want... I
need
to make love with you. You're like a fever in my blood. Last I heard a fever not broken can kill. Which makes you a serious threat to my life.'

* * *

Ana couldn't tear her gaze from Bastien's face. His words wove a dangerous spell over her. A spell she wanted to throw herself into wholeheartedly.

Her mind spun, unable to keep a firm hold on reality.

‘You don't mean that.' Her words emerged from a throat thick with desire.

He pressed his body against hers. ‘I do. You're in my head, in my blood...'

She couldn't deny the powerful message from his body. He wanted her. And, as much as she wanted to deny it, she wanted him too. Badly.

And that was insanity itself...

His head descended again.

One kiss. Just one kiss and then you'll stop
, a tiny voice whispered.

Only it was less of a kiss and more of a possession.

Bastien took control of her mouth and ravaged her senses. His hands cupped her breasts and she moaned, her craving intensifying. What he was doing wasn't enough. She wanted more—much more. She wanted no barriers between them, wanted his hands on her, skin to skin.

As if he'd heard her silent plea he dropped his hands to the seam of her top and pulled it up. Firm hands caressed her bare midriff, forcing her breath out of her lungs. Blood surged underneath her skin, escalating the dizzy spin already sending her off course.

Hanging on to the belief that she was in control, that she could stop despite the haziness of her thoughts, she thrust her tongue against his, savouring its rough texture and boldly following it when Bastien retreated. His chest lifted, sucking in air. His grip tightened at her waist, and then he was easing her top higher, his intent clear.

Ana briefly considered protesting but the fever raging through her was all-consuming—a powerful drug more potent than the heroin she'd been accused of taking. The whisper of air over her skin barely registered before Bastien drew her closer once more. His heat scorched her. He touched, caressed, coaxed the very fire from the core of her being as his hands trailed over her skin.

A sense of awakening overwhelmed Ana. Tears prickled behind her closed lids and she fought to breathe as sensation bombarded her. And through it all Bastien continued to ravage her lips as if he couldn't get enough.

‘Touch me,' he commanded hoarsely.

She obeyed.

His muscles clenched at the touch of her hands on his back. Tentative, excited, she caressed him, following the sleek, toned power of his shoulders until her hands settled on his nape. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, the sound evoking a well of pleasure inside her.

Clenching a fist in his hair, she tugged his head down, bolder in the effort to wring one last ounce of pleasure from the kiss. Because she had to stop soon...had to—

He bit her lower lip as he pinched her hardened nipples. Ana cried out. Liquid fire pooled between her thighs, drenching her with need.

He lifted his head and stared down at her, eyes stormy grey with barely leashed passion. Deliberately, he moulded her breasts, his action slow, tormenting. Another hoarse gasp echoed through the room. Without breaking eye contact he pulled down her bra cup and sucked one hardened nipple into his mouth.

Ana watched, and the sight was so erotic, her knees buckled.

With every pass of his tongue he drove her closer to an unfamiliar precipice. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she was unable to look away as he performed magic with his tongue. He squeezed her breasts together, his movements urgent.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any more delicious he straightened and reached for her bra clasp.

‘I need to see you.'

Her instincts screeched, belatedly swamping her with a sense of preservation. ‘No...'

‘Oui,'
he stressed, the untamed glint in his eyes drying her mouth.

‘I can't. God, you don't even
like
me!'

He tensed, his face registering surprise. ‘That's not true. You can't help who you are—'

Her shocked laughter cut off his words. Roughly, she pushed him away. ‘I can't believe you insult me in one breath and want to make love to me in another.'