Susan Stephens Selection. Susan Stephens
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tiny room filled with a lifetime of memories. ‘Thank you.’ She watched his eyes grow tender as he looked at her.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly, leaving go of her hands to take hold of her arms.
‘For what?’ Kate murmured as a frisson of awareness coursed through her.
‘For showing my mother that life can go on,’ he said. ‘I know it can never be the same again for her, but her recovery is the only memorial my father would ask for. There was a time when I thought this room would become the extent of her world without him—until you came back…’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ Kate protested softly. ‘Megan’s the one you should be thanking.’ Guy’s face told her she was wrong.
‘You have no idea how my mother missed you.’
‘I missed her too, Guy. And I missed Villeneuve—’
‘And me?’ he said softly. When she didn’t answer, he cupped her face in his hands, making her pulse race as the air between them filled with a heady energy. Dipping his head, Guy brushed his lips very gently against her mouth.
‘The plants—’ Kate murmured, making no effort to move away.
‘Will wait,’ Guy said. ‘I won’t.’
‘No, I promised.’ But as she went to move away desire curled around the hands she was putting up against his chest and transformed the intended push into a caress.
‘Check them, if it makes you feel better.’
He let her go, but Kate could still feel the imprint of his hands. With all the senses in her possession she ached for him. She had waited so long; they both had. She stood for a moment without moving, staring at the plants waiting for her attention and then back again to Guy. She was just as needy as they were, but for Guy’s attention—personal and prolonged.
‘Go,’ he said again softly, dipping his head to urge her across. Their eyes met and locked, like a beam that pulled her towards him rather than away. Seeing her hesitate, he ran one hand lightly down her arm and then up again, keeping hold of her. ‘Let’s check them together,’ he suggested.
Moving slowly down the line, they checked each pot in turn. ‘They don’t need watering, do they?’ Guy said, drawing her round in front of him.
‘I don’t understand—’
‘Like I said,’ he whispered against her mouth, ‘Mother was young once too.’
* * *
It must be a dream, Kate thought as she walked into Guy’s private suite of rooms through tall, arched doors. She had never visited this part of the château before, and in contrast to the more public areas it seemed almost Spartan by comparison—yet typically Guy, she thought, gazing around. She saw at once that he’d gone for clean lines, strong shapes and a high degree of comfort. But as he closed the double doors behind them she suddenly felt shy, like a young girl on a first date.
Seeing her face, Guy took her by the hand and brought her with him into the room, switching on some concealed lighting on the way. The floor was square block parquet, the huge windows dressed with sheer drapes. The subtle use of lighting together with a subdued colour palette in shades of white and fawn with touches of yellow ochre gave a sense of order and relaxation. Matching sofas covered in cappuccino suede sat either side of a soft gold wool rug and two large dogs with glossy cinnamon-coloured coats curled around each other in a wicker basket so that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other finished.
‘Ric—rac?’ Kate queried softly. For as long as she could remember, Guy had kept two dogs—company for each other, he used to say, she remembered with a smile. And as their actions always seemed to mirror each other’s, so the single name that split so beautifully into Ric and Rac suited them to perfection—especially as in French their name expressed the boisterous retrievers’ penchant for living life by the skin of their teeth.
‘Descendants,’ he said ruefully as he led her on. ‘Time passes.’
Four large wood-framed mirrors drew the eye to a formal group of monochrome shots of impressive office blocks. Seeing her staring at them, Guy stopped and stood behind her with his hands loosely linked around her waist.
‘If ever I feel like easing off,’ he murmured, nuzzling against her neck, ‘I only have to look at those to remind me how hard I have to work to keep all my companies powering forward.’ As she sighed with understanding—or maybe something else—he nudged her hair aside to lavish kisses down her neck.
Kate felt as if she was being enveloped in a seductive cocoon. Guy might be setting a relaxed pace, but they both knew there was only one outcome and that made it the most erotic form of foreplay she could possibly imagine. She was easing into him, melting against him, and had to forcibly drag herself away before she could speak. ‘And what about distractions like this?’ she demanded softly, turning her face up for his kiss.
‘Necessary to life,’ he breathed against her mouth.
As she moved in his arms, his hands tracked up slowly from her waist, but before he could claim her breasts Kate broke away with an exclamation. ‘What beautiful flowers!’ Her curiosity was roused. The bright floral arrangement was the only suggestion of softening in what was essentially a male preserve.
Guy looked at the summer arrangement in the grate of the cream stone fireplace and then back at Kate, his eyes alive with amused speculation as he slanted a look at her.
‘Madame Duplessis informed me that my room needed flowers,’ he explained.
‘Oh.’ Relief flooded through her. For a moment she had pictured Guy’s mysterious secretary who, in her mind’s eye, grew more luscious and irresistible with each passing day. ‘Madame Duplessis was right. They are lovely,’ Kate managed evenly, ‘and they do add something.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, your apartment—’ She stopped, at a loss for words. It was hardly her place to comment on his unexpectedly contemporary choice of furnishings.
‘Isn’t what you expected?’ Guy supplied. ‘But when you have lived all your life surrounded by the splendour of Château Villeneuve, you find that you want very little. Champagne?’ As he spoke he slipped off his jacket and tossed it on to one of the chairs. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw her eyes darken.
Collecting herself quickly, Kate tore her glance away from the broad sweep of his shoulders beneath the crisp white shirt and the tantalising glimpse of hard tanned chest shaded with dark hair just visible where he had undone a couple of buttons. ‘Were you expecting someone?’ she challenged, focusing instead on the ice bucket and glasses.
‘Only you,’ he said as he loosened his cuffs.
She steeled herself not to look. ‘How can I be sure of that?’
‘You can’t,’ he said, rolling back his sleeves.
Kate heard her breathing quicken and grow loud in the silence. There was no way she could ignore the power in his arms, or fail to interpret the look in his eyes. And when he held out his hands to her she went to him without hesitation. He felt so good, so hard and strong, and he tasted as delectable as the warm male scent filling her nostrils. And this time his kiss was not that of an older man respecting the untutored innocence of a much younger woman, but the response of a man meeting his lover on equal terms. He ravished her mouth with a searing hunger, kissing her all the way across the room, backing her towards the door. Then, using one hand to turn the handle, he put his shoulder against it and, swinging her into his arms, carried her across the subtly lit room.
His huge bed was cool and firm, with plump down pillows and an ivory silk throw that he snatched back and threw to the floor. Kate found herself on linen sheets, freshly laundered and scented with lavender. The strength of her passion might have surprised him but he mastered her easily, holding her firm underneath him while he whispered promises that conjured up such erotic