The Pleasure King's Bride (5 page)

Being free...just for one night...

“Say yes, Christabel. Say you’ll stay with me.”

“Yes,” she said, impelled by more than Jared would ever know to snatch this time from the life she had to lead, the life that was forever burdened by her blindly naive decision to marry Laurens Kruger. “I want this night with you, Jared.”

One stolen night.

What harm could there be in it?

No harm...just pleasure...with the pleasure King.

And he kissed her again to show her how it would be.

What
they had started had to be put on hold until later. They were not alone yet, not in any practical sense, but Christabel felt oddly disconnected to being a mother or a guest in the aftermath of losing her long-held guard against the desires Jared King stirred in her.

It seemed strange, sitting at the table again as though nothing momentous had happened, secretly harbouring the excitement that continued to buzz through her body while Vikki Chan wheeled out the traymobile, reloaded with the next course for dinner. Alicia followed her, holding a cone of chocolate chip ice-cream, and she skipped over to Jared to thank him for the special treat.

Christabel couldn’t stop looking at Jared, imagining what they might do when they were absolutely alone together. Was
he
still aroused? Impossible to know with him sitting on the opposite side of the table. He had felt...big. She wondered what he would look like with no clothes on, how he would feel to her then. Magnificently male and completely self-assured about his sexuality, she decided, not having to prove anything, just being himself. And letting her be herself.

“That looks superb, Vikki, as usual,” he complimented as the old Chinese woman served them portions of steamed fish and braised vegetables and spooned sauce over them.

“Vikki has a Chinese dish with bamboo sticks in it for cooking the fish, Mummy,” Alicia informed her importantly. “She showed me lots of special things. This house has got a really big kitchen. Bigger than our whole caravan.”

“That’s nice,” Christabel answered vaguely, watching Alicia’s tongue wrapping itself around the generous scoop of ice-cream, catching the melting drops before they dribbled down the cone.

She thought of Jared’s tongue, electrifying her lips, invading her mouth, the exciting intimacy it had generated. Would he kiss her breasts like that, licking in a swirl around her nipples...

“And Vikki’s got a shell collection, too,” Alicia rattled on. “She said she’d show me when she finished cooking.”

“That’s nice,” Christabel heard herself say again before forcing her mind to really register what her daughter was telling her. She turned to Vikki Chan, who was still spooning sauce. “Thank you for giving Alicia your time.”

“No problem. It is a joy to see her delight in things. So it should be with a child.”

“Yes,” Christabel agreed, happy there was no problem with Alicia. She needed to be free of problems tonight, free to revel in the joy of her own body meeting Jared King’s...making love...delighting in every pleasure he promised.

“Your mother will be staying longer than your bedtime, Alicia,” Jared smoothly announced, smiling at her daughter. “When you’ve finished looking at the shell collection, I’m sure Vikki can find a bedroom for you to sleep in.”

“A whole bedroom for me?” Alicia’s eyes rounded at the intriguing idea before a more troublesome thought struck. “Where will you be, Mummy?”

“Here,” she answered. “Here with Jared,” she added, her heart filling with the bliss of that reality. Not fantasy tonight. No restless dreaming, either. She’d have the warm, strong, flesh-and-blood man she wanted, touching her in every sense there was.

“There is a bed in the same room as my shells,” Vikki Chan said encouragingly to Alicia. “Perhaps you would like that one. Shall we see?’’

“Yes,” she cried eagerly, only too happy to explore more of the house with the old woman.

They went off together, leaving Christabel and Jared to eat their dinner by themselves.

Jared refilled then glasses with wine. Christabel stared at the tight little black curls on his chest. She remembered her hands ploughing through the thick springy hair on his head as he kissed her. That was different, not the kind of hair she could twirl around her finger. She wondered if the curls would feel soft or wiry.

Jared lifted his glass as he sat down again. “To being free,” he said, uncannily reading her feelings as he did so often.

“This one night,” she answered, more intoxicated by all she envisaged having with him than any wine could make her, but as she sipped the fine, oaky Chardonnay, its taste brought her palate alive and its bouquet was sharply fragrant, as though all her senses were heightened.

The fish was superb, moist, tender, flavoursome. She’d never eaten better. The vegetables and the sauce complemented it perfectly. Unskilled with chopsticks, she automatically used the conventional fork supplied, but she watched Jared using the Chinese implements, the deft control of his fingers, the smooth conveying of food to his mouth, so gracefully sure, never dropping anything.

Everything about him gave her pleasure. And it was such exquisite relief not having to put up defences, to say yes instead of no, to simply let nature take its course without any outside interference. She loved all she knew of Jared King. Tonight she would know more. As much as she could. She’d store it all up in a treasure box of memories and keep it forever.

Jared put down his chopsticks and nodded to her almost empty plate. “Good?’’

“Great!” she replied with spontaneous exuberance, not having to guard her words, not having to repress anything for the rest of this night.

He smiled contentedly, sitting back with his glass of wine, watching her finish the last few morsels. It made Christabel very conscious of what he might be thinking as she ate. Was he remembering how little she wore under her dress? He had to know now, having felt the unrestricted contours when he’d held her. Was he envisaging her naked?

Her pulse quickened as she set her fork down and picked up her glass, looking at him over the rim of it as she sipped the wine, seeing the dark simmer in his eyes and feeling her stomach curl in anticipation.

“Shall we leave the table and enjoy the freshness of the rain?” he said, surging to his feet without waiting for a reply.

The suggestion startled her. “Do you mean...go out in it?” The thunder and lightning had given way to a torrential onslaught that was still pouring down. They’d be soaked in seconds.

“No. Just to the edge of the veranda.” His mouth curved into a sensual tease as he stepped away from his chair, heading for hers. “I can’t bear having the table between us any longer.”

“Oh!”

Her excitement soared as Jared moved to the back of her chair. He dropped a kiss on the top of her hair, his warm lips grazing over the waves springing from its centre parting. “Bring your glass of wine with you,” he murmured persuasively.

It was still in her hand and she stood with it, responding unthinkingly, drawn by the compelling, seductive energy of the man behind her. He whipped away her chair, curled an arm around her waist and moved her out of the pool of lantern light, down the veranda to a more shadowed area and over to the broad balustrade between the posts.

The air did smell fresh with the rain, the oppressive heat dispelled and the dust settled. The black sky was still unbroken, no moon, no stars. She could hear the storm-driven waves in the bay below them roaring and hissing. But they were outside things and she was most conscious of Jared, his hand resting on the curve of her waist and hip, his body half behind hers, brushing against it as he reached past her to set his glass of wine down on the flat width of the balustrade.

Then his arms were wrapped around her midriff, and his cheek was rubbing against her hair, and his mouth was close to her ear, his voice low and husky as he murmured, “You’ve held me away from you so long, I have to know this is real.”

“Yes,” she whispered, hearing the echo of her own need.

“I want to breathe in the scent of your hair...feel it, taste it...”

He trailed hot kisses through it, down her neck, and Christabel instinctively arched back, revelling in the sheer sensuality of his desire for her. She felt him move his thighs apart, nestling her more snugly against him, and one of his hands moved to cup the soft swell of her breast, his thumb sweeping over its peak, fanning it into hard prominence.

She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on inner sensations, unable to resist rolling her bottom against him, inciting more awareness, exulting in the thought of exciting him. She wanted him to touch her other breast. It felt as though it was swelling, aching to be held and caressed, but he abandoned the one he held, his arms sliding down, hands spreading over her stomach, pressing an acute recognition of his arousal.

“I need to touch you and it can’t wait,” he warned, his fingers gliding towards her thighs, gathering up the soft fabric of her dress. “Tell me now if you’ve changed your mind.”

She had no intention of changing her mind. It was wildly urging him on. And it was impossible to make any reply. Her breath caught in her throat as her skirt was lifted and everything inside her stilled, poised in mesmerised waiting for what would come next. Fingertips grazed the bare flesh under her hips, making it pulse with quivery excitement. His thumbs reached up and hooked onto the slim elasticised waistband of the G-string. It was drawn down so swiftly, Christabel barely had time to gasp at the boldness of the move before the flimsy garment was dangling around her ankles.

“Step out of it, Christabel.”

“Jared...” It was more a choked cry of shock than protest.

Instantly his arms were around her hips again, on top of her skirt now, the fabric having naturally fallen as his hands had slid her underwear down her legs. The pressure, back into the cradle of his thighs, was a provocative reminder of her own wanton actions.

“I’ll put it in my pocket,” he assured her. “Neither Vikki nor Alicia will see when they come back. No-one will know you’re naked under that dress except you...and me. And I want to know it, Christabel. I want to know you won’t change your mind when Alicia comes to say good-night. I want to know the yes is still yes.”

The passion in his voice sizzled through her. “It will be,” she promised.

“You were in two minds earlier this evening. Make it decisive now. Don’t tease, Christabel. Show me.”

Tease...
A guilty flush raced up her neck. The way she’d dressed could only be interpreted as teasing, had she not come this far with him, and what he said was true—no one else would know...except them. And there was something deliciously wicked in being dressed and naked at the same time. Wicked and sexy and terribly stimulating, knowing she was so accessible to any intimate touch from him.

She stepped out of the G-string.

He swooped, unbelievably... erotically... kissing the hollows behind her knees as he picked up the scrap of material and scrunched it into his shirt pocket. Then feather-light fingertips swirled up the outside of her calves and her thighs as he slowly straightened up, moving back into position behind her. The caress circled inwards, under her dress, and her whole body went into exquisite suspension again, tremulously waiting for him to reach further... wanting him to stroke her
there.

But the shock of voices coming down the hallway froze that tantalising progress. Jared’s hands slid away and he stepped aside, picking up his wineglass and turning Ins back to the rain, casually propping himself against the balustrade and studying her face as they waited for the approaching intrusion on their privacy. Christabel found her hand clenched tightly around her own wineglass and was amazed she’d kept holding it all this time.

“You are more beautiful to me than any woman I’ve ever known,” Jared murmured. “And I want this night with you more than I’ve wanted anything in my life.”

She shivered at the passionate intensity in his voice, suddenly fearful he would press for more afterwards. “You are special to me, too,” she confessed. “But please understand....”

He pressed a light finger to her lips, halting the words she felt constrained to speak.

“You have a child. And a life you won’t share with me. You don’t have to tell me that, Christabel. You’ve told me so in a thousand ways.”

“I don’t want it to be like this, Jared. It just is,” she pleaded.

He nodded. “I want you to know I value the gift...more than I can say.”

The gift...
it was a lovely way of expressing what they were doing, the giving to each other of what they most wanted, the wonder of it, the pleasure, the satisfaction of finally unwrapping what had only been imagined and knowing all it was.

“Mummy...guess what?”

Christabel felt torn as she turned to face the child who could never be Jared’s child. Alicia was owned by her inheritance, and not even her mother could keep that from having its effect in the long run. Both their lives were circumscribed by it, and for several moments Christabel railed against that fate, having to remind herself that her daughter was the innocent victim of it before she could rise above a fierce wave of resentment and smile at the child she loved, now circling the table, assisting the old woman who’d accompanied her in clearing it.

“What am I to guess, Alicia?” She set her wineglass down on the balustrade, ready to attend to her daughter’s needs.

“You don’t have to tell me a story tonight ‘cause Vikki said she would. She knows about dragons.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“And I’m going to sleep in the shell room.”

“It’s all settled then?”

“Yes,” Vikki Chan answered, nodding reassurance as she added, “I’ll tuck the little one into bed and see that she sleeps.”