Revenge Page 9

  'Oh, no,' she moaned, clawing her fingers through his jet hair. Desperately she struggled for control, to hold on to that overwhelming need that was threatening to explode inside her. Not so soon, it was too soon!

  Almost too late he moved his mouth away from her and Alexia arched her back and let out a frustrated cry of dismay. He answered her impassioned plea by entering her with such deep intensity that she couldn't hold back. Desperately her fingers scored his hips as she drew him into her. Her muscles tightened around him in a hopeless attempt to hold on to the rhythmic thrust that was hurling her further and further out of control. He was in her and moving so forcefully that she couldn't hold on and she cried out her intention.

  In the tumult of it all, the power and hot, hot rush of release, he called out her name, raising her hips with his hands and letting the force of his strength and endurance carry her beyond anything she thought possible. She thought it would never stop, the deep engulfing rush of blood and liquid heat, molten and fiery, reaching every expectant pulse-ending throughout her body.

  But the tempest had not abated and in shocked disbelief she sobbed his name as he continued to move inside her, harder and harder till her desire rose once again like a hungry serpent. She moved restlessly with him, wanting to enhance and enrich every thrust for him. To give and give of herself as he had done for her. She knew she was pleasing him and his pleasure was hers, and she sensed when he was close to that sweet oblivion and matched her own rhythm to it, holding her own sweet release back till neither could hold on any longer.

  Alexia sobbed in disbelief as together their climax exploded in a pulsing swirl of passion and sweet, sweet ecstasy.

  They were wet with exhaustion and couldn't speak till their hearts levelled. Harry cradled her in his arms and whispered soft kisses along her hairline.

  'It's been a long time for you, hasn't it?' were his first softly spoken words.

  Alexia tensed against him. Had it been that damned obvious? 'Gosh, how gauche of me...'

  'Alexia!' he husked deeply and rose up on one elbow to look down at her in the moonlight. 'I wasn't being derisive. I've never made love to a woman who came so quickly, and twice...'

  She rolled out of his way and on to her stomach. She couldn't bear to face him. 'What do you expect after three years of abstinence?' she murmured bleakly into the pillow. 'And all your fault,' she added maliciously to cover her embarrassment.

  ... Tenderly he slid his hand up her spine and then lowered his mouth to the hollow of her back and kissed it sensuously. 'I'll tell you something, Alexia,' he whispered against her perfumed skin, 'if that was the result of three years' abstinence and it was my fault, I'm glad.'

  Alexia's heart started to race again. Harry rolled her over to face him. 'I can't bear the thought of your having made love to anyone else,' he told her softly.

  'Not very realistic thinking for the nineties,' she uttered weakly, not at all sure why he had made a statement like that.

  'Probably not,' he murmured back, 'but this chauvinist would like to hang on to some of the old values.'

  How easy to argue, how easy to throw up the usual feminist arguments to that, but how impossible when the chauvinist in question was caressing your skin so temptingly. Sorry, sisters, she mouthed inwardly as his hands lifted her nightie over her head, but I know which side of the fence I'm on.

  She smiled up at him as he tossed the warm satin up in the air and it hooked over the top of the four-poster and hung there dejectedly.

  'I don't believe this,' she murmured as, deeply aroused, he lowered his lips to her breast.

  'You'd better,' he grated between drawing deeply on her nipple. 'This is the way I operate, and in our haste earlier I didn't have time to discover your other erogenous zones.'

  'Me neither,' she whispered, and ran her hands over his body to seek what she had missed before.

  'Dear God,' he gasped as her hands guided him to her heated need and he entered her. 'This could take a lifetime of discovery.'

  Alexia curled her arms around his neck as he moved, thrusting her into his world of impassioned sensuality. She was glad, so glad she had abstained too. It was almost as if she had known he would be waiting for her at the end of it, to pick up the pieces after she had hit that brick wall.

  Alexia awoke to the smell of frying bacon, and, apart from the perfume of Oscar de la Renta, the next aroma to heaven.

  She was starving and aching and surprisingly content but alone. She lay on her back and stared up at the lacy frills of the bed. It wasn't difficult to suss out the reasons for all those sensations. He was downstairs cooking their breakfast.

  It was a special bed and he was special to put her in it. It was a lovely thought but she frowned nevertheless. How would he be this morning? Warm and loving as he had been through the night? Or would the cold light of day expose the idiocy of what they had done?

  And it had been a wild, reckless thing to do under the circumstances, she thought in dismay. They had come here to talk take-overs and only achieved the taking over of her heart; his she wasn't sure of, and that was another dismal thought. And yet their lovemaking had been perfect, so could she hope that his heart had been taken over too?

  She went to get up as she heard him coming up the stairs.

  'Stay where you are,' he ordered lightly as he came into the room with a tray.

  'Breakfast in bed. What have I done to deserve this?' she asked slyly, inching back down the bed.

  'If you are hoping for a compliment, you've had it—all night!'

  Alexia smiled. 'Am I supposed to be grateful for your libido?'

  'Well, I am, no reason for you not to be happy with what nature provided me with.'

  'Such conceit!' she laughed.

  He grinned at her, handed her her breakfast and sat on the bed to eat his with her. He was unshaven and blue stubble sprouted from his chin and his hair was disgustingly unruly. She knew she loved him in that moment, as if last night hadn't been enough confirmation. But all the usual doubts about his feelings for her crashed in on her, pitching her into a pit of despondency. Why did women think that way? Not very nineties thinking but nevertheless bloody inevitable.

  'What's happening about my car?' she asked, and there was an encouraging glimmer of anger in his eyes. As if he was cross with her to be so eager to get away.

  'The garage brought it back earlier on. It's ready when you are.'

  Alexia glanced at the clock. It was gone eleven and it was very nearly all over, the whole strange but ecstatic weekend. She swallowed her toast to punishingly ease the tightness of her throat.

  'What time do you plan on leaving, or are you staying on?' She pushed her half-eaten breakfast away and reached for her coffee from the bedside table.

  'I've got some things to sort out with the farm this morning but I'll be driving up to London later this afternoon. If you want to hang around you can follow me to the motorway and I'll head you in the right direction.'

  Hang around? Head her in the right direction? How very encouraging! Her stomach tightened. 'Follow you in the jeep?'

  He smiled, but it was a thin smile. 'No, the jeep stays put. It belongs here.'

  Alexia wished she could stay with it, she wished she belonged but it was patently obvious she didn't.

  She gulped at her coffee, watched as he ate his breakfast, wishing he'd hurry up because she wanted out of this not so very special bed.

  At last he put down his knife and fork and shifted the plates back to the tray.

  'Alexia...' Oh, God, no, here it comes, the big heave-ho. She knew it by his tone and the sudden tightening of his jaw. 'Last night was --'

  'Foolish,' she got in before he could say any more, and his eyes darkened so intently that she guessed she'd been spot on. Her whole body pulsed in defence of the hurt to come.

  'I-wasn't going to say that.'

  'No, but no doubt words along the same lines. We should have kept to business this weekend.'

  'I wasn't going
to say that either.'

  'What were you going to say, then?' she grated savagely. The best defence was to attack first. 'That the earth moved last night but this morning the bloody world is back on its very stable and sensible axis!'

  'God! What's got into you?' He stood up and glared down at her and that was confirmation enough for Alexia that he just didn't want to know. If he had he would have taken her in his arms and whispered something sweet and encouraging.

  She scrambled out of the opposite side of the bed and grabbed for her robe on a chair.

  'Last night was a mistake. We should have reached an agreement before anything else,' she suggested frostily, and then looked across at him with eyes so glassy with contempt that he almost flinched. 'Or was that the plan?'

  He was round the four-poster in an instant, gripping her upper arms forcibly. 'Do you think I made love to you in the hope of getting you to agree to my terms?'

  Alexia beamed a cynical smile up to him. 'Do you think I made love to you in the hope you would agree to mine?'

  His lips tightened mutinously and for a second she thought she might have hurt him with that but men like him were indestructible. 'Men don't have the monopoly these days on the casting-couch syndrome, Harry,' she added spitefully because she was hurting so badly inside.

  He released her instantly and she was now seeing the face of Harry Masters the financier and not the man who had made such tender, exciting, erotic love to her through the night. His words when they came confirmed the impression. He was back to business where no doubt his thoughts had been all the time.

  'Maybe we ought to hand this take-over to a third party to deal with,' he suggested bluntly.

  'Chicken out ourselves, you mean?' she threw back derisively. 'You surprise me; I thought your cut and thrust went down to the bone and nothing but witnessing the final death-throes would satisfy you!'

  He grabbed her so viciously that the pain seared her arms, numbing them. 'My God, the brittle bitch is back, isn't she?' he accused, his enraged breath hot on her cheeks. 'Last night I thought I'd broken through the ice-floe but you're just like a damned iceberg; there's more underneath than on top!'

  She tried to wrench away from him but it was impossible unless she cared to dislocate her collarbone. 'What the hell did you expect this weekend, Harry? If it was to bed me for my company, how naive can you get?'

  'And that's what you believe, is it?' he growled.

  She couldn't answer that. Last night she wouldn't have believed it, but this morning was so very different.

  She shrugged her shoulders under his hands. 'The weekend's over,' she told him coolly. 'We've talked, we've made love, you've satisfied your intentions. There's nothing more, is there?' It wasn't a questioning plea but a bald statement of fact.

  He let her go with contempt and his eyes were hard and uncompromising. 'Nothing more,' he knifed back, and Alexia felt it as a deep physical pain. He suddenly reached up, snatched her nightie from the top of the four-poster and flung it towards her. 'Don't forget this!' He turned and went out of the door without another word, leaving her feeling shaken and awkward and ashamed of her performance.

  She crunched the crumpled satin to her chest and for a fleeting second or two she was tempted to run after him and apologise. Oh, God, she had been really, really stupid, making all those accusations. But he hadn't stopped her and she had expected him to because the night had been so beautiful— but the fact that he had taken those insults said it all. He didn't want to know.

  By the time she had packed she was right back where this whole regrettable weekend had started, hating him. But worse, she despised herself for letting it happen. How easily she had let his lovemaking soothe away those lonely bitter years. Now she felt lonelier than ever. For a wonderful night she had been someone's lover—his; part of someone—him; part of a relationship—theirs. Now it was Alexia Townsend again—solo.

  He was waiting downstairs, ready to hand her her briefcase on her way out. Now was the time for that apology but it jammed in her throat. She made the excuse to herself that if he just said one tender word it would burst out but he didn't so she held it back.

  'I'll call you when I get back to London,' he told her as they walked outside to her car. He put her bag and briefcase in the boot and came back to bend down to the window. Alexia was already firing the ignition, desperate to get a motorway between them.

  'And I'll be dropping in to your factory some time, to take a final look around before coming to a decision.'

  'Can't you give me a specific time?' she asked stiffly. No way did she want to be leaping every time a visitor arrived at the works.

  'No can do, I'm afraid. I have a pressing schedule as always and will just have to fit you in when I can.'

  'Don't break a leg on my behalf,' she crisped, revving the engine irritably.

  'I already have,' he told her softly and leaned in to plant a small kiss on her lips.

  She tried to avoid it but it made contact, swiftly and with no real meaning that she could see.

  'Do you know where you're going?'

  She gave a small smile. Round the bend, very probably. 'I've a good sense of direction,' she told him drily.

  'And don't I know it, sweetheart,' he murmured suggestively, and stood back to let her accelerate wildly out of his sight.

  Monday morning Alexia called a meeting with Roland and as they sat in her office drinking coffee she told him of her meeting with Harry Masters over the weekend.

  The journey back from Wales had been smooth and Harry's phone call later that evening equally smooth. He wanted more discussions with her over lunch that week and they had fixed a time and place. All very businesslike and all very impersonal. The call had left her bereft.

  'Are you listening, Alexia?'

  Alexia blinked her eyes at Roland. 'Yes, yes, of course. What were you saying?'

  'That I can put word out that Stroben is up for grabs. I've got some connections and it doesn't sound to me as though Harry Masters is too keen.'

  'No, not keen by half,' she mused, though her thoughts weren't on the same track as Roland's. 'Yes, that would be a good idea, Roland.' She doubted it would bring any serious response but for the moment she was glad to grasp at any floating straw.

  'I'm pleased you've made a definite decision to sell, Alexia. You've been too indecisive of late and I was beginning to get worried.' Roland stood up to leave.

  A reprimand from her financial director she didn't need. 'Just remember one thing, Roland,' she said coolly, 'I want what's best for the company and always have done. Any personal feelings don't enter into any negotiations for Stroben.'

  Roland gave her a quizzical look. 'I wasn't suggesting they did, Alexia. Whatever gave you that idea?'

  Alexia clenched her fists. What the hell was going on here? Why ever had she said that? Personal feelings had no place in what they were discussing but that slip-up was a warning. Harry Masters was business and she'd better remember that in future.

  * * *

  'You never did say how your weekend at Murrays went,' April ventured mid-week. She placed a cup of coffee on Alexia's desk and perched herself on the edge, waiting with bated breath for a reply.

  'Business, business, business,' Alexia rapped out succinctly. No way could she bring herself to admit that she had seen very little of Murrays but had spent the weekend in a romantic Welsh farmhouse and slept and made love in a very romantic French four-poster.

  'No fun, fun, fun?' April twinkled.

  'Not much,' Alexia told her truthfully. Love wasn't fun. Love was painful and miserable, and, in her case, one-way traffic. 'Roland said someone from Petersfield Engineering would be calling for an appointment; have they yet?'

  Petersfield had been approached by Roland with a tentative take-over suggestion and Alexia was waiting in hope.

  'Smart cover-up, Alexia, but not smart enough. A change of subject will not put me off. Come on, make my day and give. What's he like?'

  How tempting
to do what women did, have a good old heart to heart over a cup of coffee. April was the nearest she'd come to a real friend lately but she was also her secretary and hadn't she learned a very important lesson with Harry Masters? Work and pleasure swirled like oil and water and never mixed.

  'Sorry to disappoint you but no romance. We're meeting again on Friday for a working lunch and hopefully that will be the last time.'

  April offered her a very knowing smile. 'Now, who said anything about romance? I simply asked what the divine Harry Masters was like.'

  Another slip-up. Alexia gulped at her coffee. Where the hell had all her coolness and reserve gone?

  April opened her mouth to speak again but the phone rang in her office and she went to take it.

  Saved by the bell! Alexia leaned back in her chair and let out a deep sigh. Would she ever get Harry out of her life? The consul on her desk lit and Alexia picked up the phone.

  'Petersfield on the line,' April told her, 'and he doesn't sound thirty-fourish or sexy with beautifully muscled thighs...'

  'Put him through, April,' Alexia ordered flintily. So Petersfield were interested, were they? This should make her day, so why wasn't she bubbling with anticipation? It wasn't difficult to reason that one out. If she side-stepped Harry Masters and took an offer from Petersfield that would certainly, definitely, positively blow him out of her life forever!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  'You're looking pretty despondent, but it's not surprising in the circumstances,' a voice said from the doorway.

  Alexia raised her dark eyes from the receiver which she had just put down and was staring at rather stupidly. The thought of the recriminations from her directors for the decision she had just made and delivered with such finality to Petersfield would have to be shelved for the moment. There were more pressing issues to deal with. She stood up and faced him.

  April stood behind Harry Masters making apologetic gestures with her hands, and then she shrugged her shoulders helplessly and shut the door behind them.