Sleeping Love

Sleeping Love

By

Sara Curran-Ross

Sleeping Love

By: Sara Curran-Ross

Copyright © 2011 Sara Curran-Ross

Published by: Hellfire Publishing, Inc at Smashwords

www.hellfirepublishing.com

All rights reserved. No part of this document or the related files may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means (electronic, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Digital ISBN: 978-1-937179-91-5

Cover art by: Dara England

Edited by: Julanne Batterton

This book is work of fiction. Characters, names, places, incidents, and organizations are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Sabrina glanced out of the window, watching the moon cast a silvery shadow over the pretty French countryside. The black Mercedes glided over a hill and entered a picturesque pine forest. It opened out to reveal a beautiful French chateau illuminated by strategic lighting to highlight its majestic size and architecture in the darkness. Sabrina caught her breath. Chateau Valois appeared to have been stolen brick by brick from a fairy-tale. She couldn’t help feeling that it would have been more romantic to have arrived in front of such a grand building by carriage instead of a car.

Its tall, cream turrets were capped with smooth grey and strained to their fullest imposing height. They served to show that not only was the house a home but also an impenetrable fortress just like its owner. She’d expected something elaborate and elegant, after all her host was a wealthy businessman, but this was stunning and far outweighed her expectations.

The car travelled over a drawbridge lying over the moat surrounding the Chateau. It drove through an arch nestled between two towers, and Sabrina heard the car’s wheels softly crunch over the gravel of the inner courtyard opening out in front of them.

He was there striding out of the house as the car came to a halt. His tall intimidating frame sent a curious mixture of excitement and fear tingling along the length of her spine. It was a feeling that had seized her the first time she had met him and continued to intrigue her curiosity. He opened the door before the chauffeur alighted and offered his hand, giving her no choice but to accept his assistance. She felt his hand linger, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. It was an intimate caress, one only made by a lover. Startled, Sabrina pulled her hand away embarrassed. She hardly knew the man and considered his gesture more than a little forward engendering her suspicion.

He gave her a hooded smile as though he had fully anticipated her reaction and remarked on the coldness of the weather, completely undeterred. Expressing his concern that she would be feeling the chill, his arm hung loosely around her waist, bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks as he guided her into the house.

The housekeeper was waiting for them. She gave Sabrina a cordial but guarded greeting, making her believe that the woman was unsure about her presence in the house. The very idea made Sabrina anxious. Housekeepers were the guardians of their employer’s privacy and secrets. It made Sabrina worry if she was in some sort of danger. But she dismissed it as a fanciful notion. The woman led them both up the snaking stone staircase blanketed by a luxurious red carpet to Sabrina’s room.

‘I put you in this room, Sabrina, because it has a good view of the grounds,’ her enigmatic host told her as they entered one of the guest rooms. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked moving away towards the white marble fireplace at the side.

He appeared eager for her approval, but it was hard to take in the splendour of her surroundings when Raoul Valoire was present. His very being dominated the pretty blue room, making it appear small and insignificant. Sabrina swept her eyes over the room making a conscious effort to survey it. The Antique French walnut four poster bed with dark blue curtains and bedding of white and blue silk caught her attention immediately. She quickly removed her gloves and smoothed her hand up one of the thin posts to the intricate gothic carving that decorated it. Sabrina glanced up at one of the four gargoyles on each edge of the wooden canopy, no doubt placed there to ward off evil spirits in the night, and smiled with pleasure. She was looking forward to spending the night in the bed.

‘Yes, of course I do. My life, my job is History. I eat, sleep and breathe it, and here I am surrounded by it. It’s as though I have physically stepped into the past. The room is beautiful,’ she gushed nervously.

Raoul was on his hunches stoking the fire to make it blaze higher. He stopped for a moment, and she was sure she could see his mouth curve into a knowing mocking smile. She prickled. Why did she get the unsettling feeling Raoul Valoire knew more about herself than she did and was enjoying it? The unexpected feeling bore strength and caused uneasiness in her mind. Just a week ago had marked seven years since she had woken up beaten in a London hospital minus her memory. She couldn’t even remember her real name. It made her more than suspicious and fearful when people appeared to know more about herself than she did. Inwardly she rebuked her thoughts.

You are just being paranoid. How could he possibly know anything about you? We both come from very different worlds. There is no way he could know . . . Stop it. He’s just one of those bloody men who knows, exactly how to charm a woman until she falls at his feet. That was quite obvious when we met at his cocktail party in London a week ago. He had all of the women flocking around him. Raoul can pick any woman he wants and with a click of his fingers they would be in his bed. Arrogant, pompous, womanising. . .

She began removing her gloves, loosening the buttons on her coat, trying to think of more derogatory words to call him when she suddenly felt him close behind. Sabrina stopped and turned to look up at him nervously having a crazy thought that he might have heard her thoughts. Raoul’s tall figure dwarfed her small curved form, and she found herself straightening her back to rise to her full petite height.

‘You haven’t taken your coat off yet,’ he said with a frown. ‘Is there something wrong? Are you cold, Sabrina?’

It was the way he said her name, the way it rolled off his tongue with that sexy melodic French lilt, like an intimate caress that made her soften.

‘No, thank you. I’m fine. I was just about to.’

But he was there before she could raise her hands to begin the task, slowly slipping the cashmere coat from her shoulders and depositing it on the bed behind her.

Why stop there? Cold? How could I be? Every time you are near me, I feel myself burning like a furnace. Ever since we met I have felt this, and you know it. You think you have got me just where you want me, and I don’t like it. It’s not like me to be so stupid with a man or to have some silly girl crush. Yet, here I am allowing you to exert your power and reel me in like a dumb fish. Damn it, Sabrina. Get some control.

The man was a virtual stranger. She knew nothing about Raoul Valoire, but her body spoke to her in fleeting images of them in past encounters entwined together in unbridled passion. It was crazy. They were so vivid they felt like memories.

Could they be? Maybe we did meet in the past, and I just can’t remember? Perhaps, I am one of your old conquests? A one night stand or something? Maybe you heard about my memory loss and thought it would be fun to play with me? Stop it Sabrina. You have to start trusting people. It’s just paranoia and your wild imagination kicking off. Calm down.

She looked up at him wondering if somehow he’d seen it too.

Raoul’s eyes were dark and fathomless. They were dangerous eyes, the type that swallowed a woman whole and didn’t allow her up for air. She heard herself give a small inward gasp as those mysterious black-as-the-night pools drew her in and held her prisoner.

Unnerved by the curious effect he was having upon her and feeling a sudden chill, Sabrina pulled away to admire the roaring fire, rubbing her arms.

‘Are you feeling all right, Sabrina? Is there anything I can get you?’ he asked.

She turned around. There it was again, that knowing smile, as if he knew exactly what she was feeling, and it amused him. She studied his face looking for some clue as to the game he was playing, but he was giving nothing away.

Sabrina watched him smile innocently, clearly aware of the purpose of her scrutiny. Every time she looked at him, he took her breath away. That was what made him so deadly, she decided. He possessed the type of looks that would seduce a woman from a mile away. An English mother and French father provided a light Latin warmth to his skin and an aristocratic smoothness to his face. His smooth mid-length hair was an enticing mixture of dark brown flecked intermittently with a lighter version of the colour. Sabrina felt a sudden urge to run her fingers through its rich texture and gave a small jump when a clear picture of her doing just that, vividly entered her mind. It was something she had done before, she could almost swear to it.

Sabrina began stepping backwards both alarmed by her thoughts and on seeing Raoul stride towards her, but there was no safe retreat. Her back was nearly hitting the fireplace, and the heat of the fire was about to scorch and melt the leather of her boots if she got any closer.

Her blue eyes searched his face, looking for some explanation when his eyes narrowed at her. More than a little nervous, she made an attempt to move away to the side. But she found her chin being lifted, and her head tilted sideways. Sabrina took a breath unexpectedly delighted at his gentle hold.

Raoul trailed the warm tips of his fingers along her neck, gently probing the aching stiffness that tormented her so often because she was unable to fully relax. It was a problem that never relented in plaguing her. Surprised, she found herself allowing him to turn her around to face the fire so he could better massage her painfully stiff neck. Pleasure forced her eyes to close as she felt her body obediently soften and melt against his masterful touch.

‘You are always tensing, Sabrina. When will you ever learn to relax?’

It wasn’t even his words that shocked her, it was the gentle familiarity with which he spoke them. Her mind was screaming caution, but her body had a will of its own, paralysing any movement she made to escape. He knew exactly where to touch, to soothe and to deepen the massage to ease her pain. She would swear to it.

What is happening? More to the point, why am I allowing him to touch me like that?

‘Dinner will be ready in half an hour,’ the housekeeper stopped her speech abruptly, her eyes resting anxiously on her employer. They hadn’t even heard her knock.

Raoul lowered his hands. Sabrina moved away from him quickly, feeling grateful that she had been rescued from making a fool of herself. Raoul had been so close in conquering her resistance.

If the housekeeper hadn’t come in . . . Who knows what it would have led to?

But try as she might she couldn’t deny the irritation she felt at the loss of his wonderful caress of her neck. With as much dignity as she could muster and ignoring the warm flush to her cheeks, Sabrina thanked the woman and informed her that she would be downstairs as soon as possible. It was the cue for both of them to leave. The housekeeper took it at once, but Raoul lingered.