скачать книгу бесплатно
And now she was left stranded, between his desire for revenge and her father’s indifference.
I’ve wrecked everything, she told herself desolately. Sacrificed the only chance of real happiness I’ve ever been offered.
But she couldn’t let herself think about that, or she would break down completely. And she had to be strong to get through the next few weeks or months, living on the edge of Draco’s life. Strong enough, too, to walk away with her head high when it was over.
And before that she had other problems to deal with.
Her father might be too preoccupied with the loss of his wife to question this ‘job abroad’ too closely, but her aunt and uncle might not be so incurious. They would want a full explanation, and she couldn’t imagine what she would say to them—or to Berry, who would find it unthinkable for her to leave her father in this way.
And how could she explain why her father’s debts were now in abeyance, and the house reprieved, without mentioning the precise terms of her ‘contract’ with Draco?
Her conversation with the consultant had been uncomfortably revealing. Over the years her father’s health cover had been reduced to a minimum. The top-grade private room he was occupying, and the services of the live-in nurse, were being paid for by Draco.
‘I thought you knew and approved, Miss Fielding,’ the consultant had told her, frowning. ‘He described himself as a close friend of the family.’
‘Yes,’ she’d said, dry-mouthed. ‘Yes, of course.’
It seemed there was not a part of her life that Draco didn’t control. And the fact that in this instance his influence was totally benign somehow made it no better.
Oh, God, she thought. It’s all such a mess.
And began, soundlessly and uncontrollably, to cry until she had no more tears left.
It was the sudden chill of the evening breeze across the lake and the clang of the bell announcing that the grounds were closing that eventually roused her from her unhappy reverie.
It was more than time she was getting back. Berry would have dinner waiting for her and would be worried about her non-appearance, she thought, sighing, as she returned reluctantly to her car.
The hall lights were on when she let herself into the house, but there was no sign of the housekeeper—or of dinner either. No place laid in the dining room or welcoming aroma of food in the air. Just—silence.
She called, ‘Berry—I’m home,’ and waited, but there was no response.
Maybe she’d gone into the garden, to pick some last-minute fruit for dessert or bring in some washing, Cressy thought, subduing an unwelcome tingle of apprehension.
She walked to the drawing room door, twisted the handle, and went in.
Draco was standing beside the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantelshelf as he stared down at the empty grate. He turned slightly, the dark eyes narrowing as Cressy paused in the doorway, her hand going to her throat in shock.
He said softly, ‘So here you are at last, agapi mou. I have been waiting for you.’
She said shakily, ‘So I see. Where’s Berry? What’s happened to her?’
His brows lifted. ‘Naturally, I have murdered her and buried her body under the lawn,’ he returned caustically. ‘Or so you seem to think.’
She bit her lip. ‘I don’t think anything of the kind,’ she denied curtly, aware that her heart was hammering in a totally unwelcome way at the sight of him. But then he’d startled her—hadn’t he?
‘I was just a little anxious about her,’ she added defensively.
‘So many anxieties about so many people.’ His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘What a caring heart you have, my golden girl. The truth is that I gave your Mrs Berryman the evening off. I believe she means to go to a cinema.’
‘You gave Berry the evening off?’ She stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘And she agreed?’
His mouth twisted. ‘She was a little reluctant at first, but I can be very persuasive.’
‘To hell with your powers of persuasion,’ Cressy lifted her chin. ‘You had no right to do anything of the sort.’
‘I have all kinds of rights, Cressida mou.’ His tone hardened. ‘And I mean to enjoy all of them.’ He held out a hand. ‘Now come and welcome me properly.’
Mutinously, she walked forward and stood in front of him. When he kissed her she stood unmoving, un-responding to the warm, sensuous pressure of his lips on hers.
After a moment, he drew back.
‘Sulking?’ he asked. ‘What’s the matter? Did I hurt you, perhaps, this morning?’
Colour rushed into her face. She stared down at the carpet. ‘I don’t know.’
He said, ‘Look at me, matia mou. Look at me and say that.’
Cressy raised her eyes unwillingly to him. His smile was faintly mocking, but there was an odd watchfulness in his gaze which she found unnerving.
She said, ‘No—no, you didn’t. As you know quite well.’
‘Where you are concerned, my beautiful one, I suspect I know very little.’ His tone was dry. ‘But I am glad you did not find your first surrender too much of an ordeal.’
She threw her head back defiantly. ‘Your words, kyrie. Not mine. And now perhaps you’d tell me what you’re doing here.’
‘I thought I should pay a visit,’ he said. ‘To make sure that all was well with my property.’ He paused. ‘But I see it is not.’ He took her chin in his hand, studying her, ignoring her gasp of outrage. ‘You have been crying, pethi mou. Why?’
‘Do you really need to ask that?’ She freed herself stormily and stepped back. ‘Or did you imagine I’d be turning cartwheels for joy because the mighty Draco Viannis had sex with me today.’
His mouth tightened. ‘Would you have wept if Draco the fisherman had taken you that day on Myros?’
‘He didn’t exist,’ she said. ‘So how can I know?’
‘You could always—pretend.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s been too much pretence already. Now we have a business arrangement.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he said softly. He removed his jacket, tossed it over the arm of one of the sofas and sat down, loosening his tie.
He smiled at her. ‘Then perhaps you would take off your dress—strictly in the line of business.’
Her skin warmed again, hectically. ‘My—dress?’
‘To begin with.’ His tie followed the jacket, and he began, unhurriedly, to unbutton his shirt.
She said, ‘You—you actually expect me to strip for you?’
‘It is hardly a novelty.’ His tone was dry. ‘After all, Cressida mou, the first time I saw your beautiful breasts it was your own idea.’
Her voice trembled. ‘I—hate you.’
He laughed. ‘That should add an extra dimension to the way you remove your clothes, my lovely one. I cannot wait.’
She said, ‘But someone might come…’
He grinned at her. ‘More than one, I hope, agapi mou.’
To her fury, she realised she was blushing again. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And why do you think I gave the housekeeper leave of absence? Precisely so we should not be disturbed. Now, will you take off your dress, or do you wish me to do it for you?’
‘No.’ Her voice was a thread. ‘I’ll do it.’
She unfastened the long zip, slid the dress from her shoulders and let it pool round her feet.
‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘If we’d been married, would you have degraded me like this?’
‘And if we’d been on our honeymoon, Cressida mou, would you have expected either of us to remain fully clothed for very long?’
‘You,’ she said bitterly, ‘have an answer for everything.’
‘And you, my lovely one, talk too much.’ Draco leaned back, watching her through half-closed eyes. ‘Now take off the rest—but slowly.’
They lay together on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, his hands making a long, lingering voyage of rediscovery.
This time, she thought fiercely, she wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t become some mindless—thing, subject to his every sexual whim. She had a will of her own and she would use it.
But it wasn’t easy. Not when he was kissing her slowly and deeply, his tongue a flame against her own. Not when her breasts were in his hands and the tight buds of her nipples were unfurling slowly under his caress. Or when he was stroking her flanks, cupping the roundness of her buttocks in his palms.
And not when she needed him so desperately, so crazily, to touch her—there—at the very core of her womanhood.
He whispered against her lips. ‘This time you have to ask, agapi mou. You have to tell me what you want.’
Her voice cracked. ‘Draco—please…’
‘Not good enough, my sweet one. Is it this?’ He kissed her breasts, taking each soft, scented mound into his mouth in turn.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘No. Oh, God…’
‘Or this?’ His fingertips brushed her intimately, as lightly as a butterfly kiss and as fleeting.
Her only answer was a soft, involuntary whimper of yearning.
‘Or even—this?’ His voice sank to a whisper as he bent his head and his mouth found her.
She cried out, and for a moment her body went rigid, all her inhibitions rearing up in shock.
But her one prim attempt to push him away was unavailing. He simply captured her wrists in one strong hand and did exactly as he wanted.
Which, Cressy realised, as her whole body began to shake in sudden wanton delight, was exactly what she wanted too.
The last vestiges of control were dissolving under the warm, subtle flicker of his tongue. She was going wild, her head twisting from side to side, the breath bursting hoarsely from her lungs. Pleasure was filling her like a dark flame, driving her to the limits of her endurance. And beyond.
Her whole being seemed to splinter in a rapture so intense she thought she might die.
As awareness slowly returned, she realised she was kissing him, her parted lips clinging to his in abandoned greed. She had marked him too, she saw. There were small crescents on the smooth skin of his shoulders that her nails had scored in those final fainting seconds.
She felt bewildered—and ashamed that her resistance could be so easily and swiftly destroyed. And she was angry, too, because she didn’t want to be Draco’s creature, locked into this—sexual thrall.
He raised his head and looked down at her.
He said, his voice slurred, ‘I couldn’t concentrate at my meeting for thinking of your loveliness—your sweetness. I should be at a dinner tonight with a group of other bankers, but I had to find you—to be with you…’
She turned her head, avoiding his gaze. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
‘No,’ he said with sudden harshness. ‘Just willing.’
He lifted her hips towards him, and smoothly and expertly joined his body to hers.
She could not fight him physically—she was no match for his hard, virile muscularity—but she could close her mind against him. Force herself to lie passive and unresponsive beneath him—refuse herself the delicious agony of consummation that his powerful body was offering her once more. That, she discovered with shock, her own sated flesh was incredibly, impossibly eager to accept.
And Draco knew what she was doing. Because he too was holding back, deliberately tempting her to abandon her self-denial and join him on the path to their mutual delight.
His mouth touched hers, softly, coaxingly, then brushed her closed eyelids. His lips tugged at the lobe of her ear and explored the vulnerable pulse in her throat. He whispered her name almost pleadingly against her breast.
And, in spite of everything, her iron resolve was beginning to falter, her aroused body making demands she could no longer ignore.
But Draco’s patience had cracked too. He was no longer teasing, or even very gentle. Instead, he was driving himself with a kind of grim determination towards his own climax.
At its height, he cried out something in his own language, his voice harsh, almost broken.
When it was over, he rolled away from her and lay, one arm covering his eyes, as his rasping breath slowly returned to normal.
Cressy sat up slowly, pushing her hair from her eyes. She supposed she had scored a small victory, but it seemed a barren, sterile thing, especially when her newly awakened body was aching for the fulfilment she’d spurned.
She felt cold, and a little frightened. She didn’t dare look at him, or say anything, even when, a long time later, he got to his feet and walked to the sofa and his discarded clothing. A brooding silence enclosed them both.
At last he said, ‘You made me use you. Why?’
She said, ‘I assumed you wished to be repaid for my father’s medical bills. You can’t always choose the currency.’
He whispered something under his breath, and the controlled violence of it made her flinch. He picked up her dress and tossed it to her. ‘Cover yourself.’
She slipped it over her head, but didn’t fasten it. She didn’t trust her shaking hands to deal with the zip.
He was fully dressed when he spoke again, his tone clipped, remote. ‘You will find food in the kitchen. I brought a hamper from London. There is chicken, and champagne and peaches.’
She ran her tongue across her dry lips. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
