Desire For Revenge. PENNY JORDAN
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the bubbly liquid.
‘Well, Ralph?’ Tom queried jovially. ‘Have you told them the good news yet?’
‘I thought I’d better get Jane sitting down first,’ Ralph grinned. ‘Tom’s just told me that we’ve got the contract for the software program for his new computer.’
After the buzz of excitement had died down, Tom Merryweather signalled to a hovering waiter to pour the champagne, getting to his feet to toast the success of Ralph’s business.
Sarah was thrilled for her sister and brother-in-law, knowing from what they had told her, what a difference this important contract would make to their lives, and Ralph had also confided that where Tom Merryweather led, others were likely to follow.
The bottle of champagne Tom ordered was a magnum, and by the time Ralph was pressing her third glass of champagne on her, Sarah was feeling decidedly light-headed. She had little head for alcohol at the best of times and the euphoria of hearing about Ralph’s success, combined with the dizzying sense of instantaneous recognition that had flashed between her and the man she had seen in the town square that afternoon seemed to have completely removed her normal reticence. She found herself laughing as easily as Jane at Tom Merryweather’s teasing jokes, and even flirting rather mildly with the older man when he praised her outfit.
Veronica Merryweather was quieter than her husband; a pretty rather than elegant woman, who Sarah suspected was a perfect foil for her more exuberant mate. There was no doubt that they were an extremely happily married couple. They had two daughters, Sarah learned, as she drank her champagne, both married and with children of their own now, and it had been as a direct result of one of their grandchildren desperately needing a very difficult heart operation as a baby which had led to Veronica’s heavy involvement in charity fund raising.
Despite the muzzy sensation brought on by the unaccustomed champagne Sarah could see that through Ralph’s business connections with Tom, her sister was also likely to become involved in working alongside Veronica in her fund raising work. It was a role that would ideally suit her sister, who was already beginning to wonder what she would do with her time once the triplets were at school. Jane had a tremendous flair for organisation and Sarah was pleased to see that this gift would find a proper outlet.
They heard the small dance combo striking up a waltz, and across the table Veronica grinned at her husband and instructed, ‘We’re going to dance this waltz, even if it’s the only time I manage to get you on the floor tonight—they played it for us at our reception when we were married,’ she explained to everyone else.
‘And I asked them to play it for us tonight,’ Tom told her with a corresponding grin.
‘What do you think of them?’ Jane asked Sarah when they had gone.
‘I like them. He seems very down to earth, shrewd, but completely honest, not the sort of man it would be easy to fool, or deceive.’
‘No, he’s got no time for what he calls “posers”,’ Ralph told her. ‘A few of the old brigade locally don’t care for him—but I’ve always found him pleasant enough. He’s apt to call a spade a spade, and he’s come on in life the hard way. He’ll have no truck with any pretence but he’s exceptionally kind-hearted—and not because he’s one of these self-made millionaires who’s out to buy himself a peerage, either.’
‘You must be thrilled to bits about the contract,’ Sarah enthused to Ralph. ‘It will make all the difference to the business. The pair of you should be out celebrating alone tonight without having me tagging along.’
‘Oh, we can celebrate in private later on.’
Ralph grinned, laughing when Jane blushed slightly and said reprovingly, ‘Ralph…’
‘But if you’ll excuse us, Sarah, I would like to dance with my wife.’
‘Dancing…is that what you call it,’ Jane groaned, but nevertheless she stood up, pausing only to say to Sarah, ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Don’t be silly. Off you go.’
Slowly sipping what was left of her champagne Sarah sat back in her chair and studied her surroundings. Apart from a disconcerting tendency to sway rather unnervingly whenever she chanced to move her head too quickly, she could find nothing to criticise in the very traditional Adam décor of the room she was in. The walls had panels in the same eau de nil as her gown, a similar colour contrasted with a soft butter yellow used on the intricately plasterworked ceiling, with the plasterwork itself picked out in white and embellished with gold.
At one end of the room was an Adam fireplace over which hung a giltwood mirror. Several portraits ornamented the rooms, and Sarah was studying one several yards away, a mother and daughter study very much in the style of Lely, wondering if it was genuine, when a voice against her ear made her jump and clutch wildly at the stem of her champagne glass, her eyes swivelling from the picture to those of the man bending over her.
‘She was reputed to be one of Charles II’s many mistresses,’ he murmured dulcetly. ‘That was how the family got this land. Lely in his time had a reputation for being the portraitist of the “Royal Whores”.’
‘So it is genuine?’
The last thing she wanted to do was to talk about their hostess’s art collection. Her heart was thumping so loudly it seemed impossible that she was actually able to carry on a normal conversation. How she managed to be so deeply engrossed in staring at the portrait that she had not heard him approach, especially since she had had every sense attuned for him ever since she had seen him in the ballroom, she had no idea.
At close quarters his eyes were even more darkly blue than she had realised, fringed with thick black lashes, his tanned skin, and slightly mocking expression somehow making him look far more at ease in his costume than any of the other men present.
‘I shouldn’t think so…but it’s a passable enough copy. The original was probably sold years ago. Would you care for another drink?’
Sarah grimaced ruefully into her empty glass. ‘I don’t think I’d better,’ she admitted frankly, ‘I have absolutely no head for chamgagne and that was my third glass. At the moment I doubt if I could so much as walk in a straight line from here to the ballroom!’
‘Why don’t we give it a try?’
Before she knew what was happening he was gently tugging her out of her seat, sliding his hands to her waist to support her as she stood somewhat shakily. As he bent to steady her his jaw was on a level with her mouth and she ached to touch her lips to its hard firmness. A sensation of mild shock quivered through her, its intensity muted by the champagne she had consumed, and as he guided her towards the ballroom, it suddenly struck Sarah that here was the ideal candidate with whom to rid herself of the tiresome burden of her virginity. Every female sense she possessed told her that this man would be a lover whose touch, once experienced, would never be forgotten, and above and beyond that there was something about him that reached out to her on the most primitive and intense level of her being. She wanted to make love with him, she acknowledged inwardly; and the admission brought her no shame or shock, merely a sense of rightness. She trembled, and although she knew he must have felt her physical reaction, unlike Ralph he did not ask her if she was cold, merely lifting one eyebrow and smiling down at her rather quizzically.
‘Before I steal you away, I take it the gentleman I saw you with earlier has no prior claim on you that I should know about?’
She liked that in him, Sarah thought muzzily; that he should so clearly and yet so inoffensively make his desire for her plain, and yet at the same time want to make sure that she was free to reciprocate that desire.
‘None at all,’ she assured him. ‘Ralph is my brother-in-law.’
‘Unfortunate man.’ He drawled the words softly, releasing her waist with his right hand to hold her arm, his thumb stroking softly over the vulnerable underside of her skin where the sleeve fell away from her elbow. While she was still shuddering with delicate pleasure he