The Pleasures of Autumn (12 page)

Sinead tried to collect her wits. She was in a Jeep beside Niall and she was safe. As they left, she heard the sirens of police cars speeding towards the container park.

He turned to give her a quick once-over. ‘Did they hurt you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, they didn’t have time. I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure? I can take you to hospital.’ Why was he going on about this? She didn’t want to go to hospital.

‘They didn’t touch me. I’m fine. Just get me away from here.’ She shut her eyes.

Her mind, normally so active and dependable, had shut down. The surge of adrenaline had kept whatever they had injected her with at bay for a while, but now it was sweeping over her, making it impossible to focus on more than one thing at a time. Her head was foggy and she couldn’t think clearly. The scrape in the wiper, which left a trail of water every time it swiped across the window, held her attention. She frowned at it. That could be dangerous. The smear on the windshield could obstruct the driver’s view. They might have an accident.

Briefly her gaze skittered across to Niall, driving through the traffic with nonchalant skill. She thought about telling him about the smear and decided against it.
His face was set like stone. He might not want her to talk. He had to drive. He needed to pay attention.

She needed to concentrate. There were things she had to know. As soon as she remembered what they were, she would ask him. Then she would sleep.

She dropped her gaze to her hands, clenched in her lap, and gave a cry.

Niall flicked a quick glance in her direction. ‘What is it?’

She held up her hand, index finger extended. ‘I’ve broken a nail.’

He turned to glare at her. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

He wasn’t looking at the road. That was bad.

‘I fished you out of a crap situation, with some of the nastiest scumbags in Europe, and all you can say is you’ve broken a nail?’

‘The road.’ That was important, wasn’t it? She knew watching the road was important.

He obediently turned to glance at the road, but kept his attention on her. ‘Lady, all I can say is that you have to be the coldest piece I’ve ever met.’

‘Yes.’ Yes, she was cold. How did Niall know that? Why had she not noticed before how cold it was? She gripped her hands together to stop them shaking. A dancer never shivered, no matter how bad the heating was or how cold the stage. She opened her mouth to tell him so, and stopped before she could form the words.

She wasn’t supposed to tell him that. She couldn’t talk about Lottie. She stifled an urge to giggle. Secret. Lottie was a secret. She felt drunk. Not giddy drunk but the next
drink after one too many. Her head was fuzzy. What had they injected her with the second time?

Focus, Sinead. Try to remember. It’s important.

‘… and not even a single question about Bertrand?’ Niall asked.

Reality crashed back. ‘Gabriel.’ That was the thing she was trying to remember. Gabriel had been hurt. And it was her fault. ‘Where is he?’

‘I don’t know yet. Are you going to tell me what happened to him?’

She ignored his question. Gabriel. That was it. She had to help Gabriel. ‘You have to go back. I have to find out how he is. They kept beating him and beating him and I couldn’t stop them.’

Did Niall’s face soften a little?

‘I’ll find out as soon as we’re safe.’

They weren’t safe? But she didn’t have time to worry about that.

‘We have to go to Gabriel. Take me to him.’

‘Oh no, lady. I’m not letting you go anywhere again. He is in good hands. He’s going to the hospital, but from now on, you are staying with me.’ For the rest of the journey, Niall ignored her and concentrated on the road.

Sinead lost track of the roads circling Paris and had no idea where they were when he pulled off the five-lane carriageway and onto a small road leading to a side street. He drove down into an underground car park, its electronic gate permanently shadowed by the tall apartment block overhead.

The silence when he cut the Jeep’s engine was shocking. She sat there, wondering what to do now.

Niall came around and opened her door. ‘Out you get. This is where you’ll be staying for the next few days.’

She followed him into the elevator. Niall entered a code and they moved upwards. She counted the floors – thirty-five of them – before the elevator stopped. She stepped into a carpeted corridor.

‘This way.’ He took her arm and guided her to a door at the end of the hallway. He entered another code and opened the door and stepped inside. Two walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view over the city. A galley kitchen was panelled with dark wood. A large slate-coloured couch faced a plasma screen TV.

The normalcy of the apartment was a shocking contrast to the violence she had endured. ‘Does the door lock?’ she asked.

Niall had been pointing out features of the apartment, but he stopped, going from businesslike to tender in a heartbeat. ‘Yes, it locks. It’s a triple deadlock with a built-in alarm.’

‘So I’m safe?’ She hadn’t meant to say that, but the words burst out before she could stop them. She winced. She hated feeling out of control.

There was understanding in his eyes. ‘Yes, you’re safe here. No one can get in, and I won’t let anyone harm you.’

She wondered if she had imagined him saying, ‘except me’, under his breath. It was too bizarre, so she ignored it. Niall had come for her. He had rescued her. She was safe.

His voice changed abruptly. ‘What’s that?’

She looked down and saw a large, dark stain on her top. It had dried to brown, but she knew what it was. She shuddered. It was Gabriel’s blood.

‘Are you hurt? Let me see.’ Without waiting for her permission, Niall was kneeling down beside her, lifting up the hem of her top to examine her. His fingers skimmed across a bruise, making her gasp.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘It’s okay.’ How could she tell him that the gentle brush of his fingers, so hot on her cold skin, had caused a spasm of pleasure to shoot through her? It was so intense it was almost painful. She wanted him to do it again.

But Niall was all business, checking out her bruises and scrapes, his knowing fingers moving over her head, looking for bumps and abrasions. He clicked his tongue over a shallow gash she hadn’t even noticed. ‘I don’t think this will need stitches. I’ve some sticking plasters in the kitchen, they should do the job.’

He went into the kitchen and then reappeared with a packet of wipes and a small metal box. He dabbed her skin with something smelly, opened a pink sticking plaster covered with blue animals and put it on her shoulder. ‘That should do it.’

He flipped the lid on the box of plasters and grinned. ‘Sorry, they’ve got bunny rabbits on them.’

‘Bunny rabbits?’ She was finally losing it. Had he said bunny rabbits?

He ducked his head, making it harder to see the faint trace of colour on his cheekbones. ‘My sister and her family were living here during the summer. My niece is going through a bunny rabbit phase. I’m actually hoping she moves on to boy bands soon, but if Jenny gets into One Direction, I’ll have to avoid her until she’s over it.’

His casual patter about boy bands and bunny rabbits
allowed something in Sinead to unwind. For the first time since she had been kidnapped, she began to believe she was safe. The events of the previous twenty-four hours crashed into her mind and she trembled. Grabbing the hem of the blood-stained top, she yanked it over her head.

‘I need to wash.’ She knew she sounded hysterical, but didn’t care.

‘Come on, the shower is in here.’ Niall led her into the bathroom and turned on the large overhead shower. While it warmed up, he helped her take off the rest of her clothes. She was vaguely aware that she was naked in front of him, but it no longer mattered. All she wanted was a hot shower.

He guided her into it, but there was no rubber mat and she slipped getting in. He caught her before she could fall and held her upright. ‘Niall …’ She had no idea what she was asking.

She didn’t need to. Niall kicked off his shoes and got into the shower with her. He held her securely while she allowed the water to cascade over her, washing away not only the blood and sweat of her ordeal but the fear that had clogged her ability to think. She made no attempt to wash herself. That could wait.

Niall was trying to stand out of the direct angle of the shower, but he was soaked too. ‘You look funny,’ she told him.

‘Says the girl with the bunny rabbit sticking plasters.’ He opened a bottle of shampoo and poured some into his hand. ‘So what happened to you?’

The movement of his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp, was so luxurious that she closed her eyes and gave
herself over to it. ‘I was asleep,’ she told him. ‘It was dark in the apartment. Gabriel has blackout curtains, can’t sleep without them.’

For a moment, his skilled fingers stopped their mesmerizing motion. But now that she was talking, she couldn’t stop.

‘The first thing I knew was a hand over my mouth. I opened my eyes and there was a man standing over me. It was too dark to see anything. I fought. I bit him and he slapped me.’

Niall’s thumb brushed gently over the bruise on her cheekbone. ‘I shouted, but it wasn’t enough. And I could hear Gabriel fighting too. The man put something over my head, and I was being carried.’ She shuddered. ‘He groped me.’

Niall stiffened, but his voice was calm. ‘Go on. Were they speaking French or English?’

She leaned against him, her back to his chest, not caring that he was still fully clothed. ‘Both. But later there was a man with an American accent giving orders. We were put into a van. The floor was metal and it scraped me.’

He dipped his head and brushed a kiss onto the plaster. Despite herself, she was warmed by the gesture.

‘I couldn’t see, there was something over my head. When I could see again, they were taking us into a container or something like that, and then they started beating Gabriel.’ She shuddered again.

‘Shh, shh. It’s over. You’re safe.’ Niall rinsed the suds out of her hair, carefully directing the shower away from her face. He rubbed in conditioner and then scooped up a handful of lemon-scented shower gel and washed her.

He was keeping his touch gentle and non-intrusive, but as his big hands moved over her breasts and grazed her nipples, a shock of sensation streaked through her, breaking her out of memories of the attack.

She turned her head and her gaze rose to meet his. Those hands might be impersonal, but the heat in his eyes told a different story. Niall Moore wanted her. And right now, she wanted him too.

She pushed her breasts back into his hands. ‘Again.’

His fingers flexed, tightening on her, but not giving her the pressure she needed. ‘Sinead –’

She knew he was going to come out with some platitude about her being in shock and not knowing what she wanted. But she wasn’t going to let him tell her what she wanted. She wanted him.

‘I don’t care. Do it again.’

His grip tightened. His fingers were long enough to contain her whole breast, and she revelled in it. She moved slightly so that her nipples grazed his palm, and hissed with pleasure. ‘Oh, that’s so good.’

‘Better than this?’

Now he had her nipple in a slight pinch, the pressure just enough to cause twists of sensation to streak through her, travelling in a straight line to her core.

Her knees weakened, but it didn’t matter. Niall was there, supporting her, holding her. He bent down and kissed her neck, his lips hotter than the water in the shower. She tilted her head to give him better access and he took full advantage, kissing his way up to her ear.

He caught her earlobe between his teeth and nipped delicately.

‘Ah!’ It was precisely what she needed, and yet nowhere near enough. She slipped forwards, and found herself against the tiles of the shower stall.

The contrast between the heat of the Viking at her back and the coolness of the white tiles was shocking. Her nipples hardened even more, becoming rock-hard points of sensation.

She had lost the ability to move, but Niall turned her. She looked up into his eyes and caught her breath. They were ablaze with emotion.

Sinead put up her wet arm and pulled him down to her, desperate to kiss him. His mouth was hot and wild, his tongue a delicious temptation that she couldn’t resist. When he took her mouth, she welcomed him longingly, opening eagerly to him. He tasted of passion, and she sucked fervently at his tongue, unable to get enough of it. She chased it into his mouth, determined not to lose the connection.

In this position, her sensitive breasts were pressed up against his soaked shirt. There was something intensely erotic about being naked while he was fully dressed.

He gave a strangled half laugh as he lifted his head. ‘Wait. We’ll get out and –’

‘No. I want you now.’ The hoarse note of command in her own voice startled her. This wanton, demanding woman couldn’t possibly be her. But the sensations coursing through her were strong and urgent and utterly new. This time there would be no waiting for arousal to build to the point where she could enjoy love-making. The searing lust filling her was burning so hot that she couldn’t wait another minute.

His hands skimmed down her back, lifting her and pressing her against him. The shock of the contact made it impossible to think. She hooked one thigh over his hip, torn between pressing her demanding clit against him, and grabbing his erection with her hands.

‘Now,’ she insisted. ‘Fuck me.’

‘Oh god, I’m going to hell for this,’ he muttered, but let her slide down his body long enough for him to reach into his back pocket. His wallet was as sodden as the rest of him, and he had to fight to get it open, but there – thank you, god – was a condom. She had a moment of shame that she hadn’t even thought of it, before she gave herself up to Niall.

He opened his jeans, allowing his impressive erection to spring free. She couldn’t resist caressing it with greedy hands. Hers, all hers. The tip was already slippery with arousal. She ran her thumb over it in wonder and he shuddered.