Julia James - Diamonds are for Deception

‘Are you?’

Looking anywhere but at him, she answered, ‘No.’

‘I’m rather pleased about that. I must admit I haven’t been quite so impetuous since the days of my youth. Nor as careless… But I presume you are protected?’ he added.

The casual question shook her rigid.

‘P-protected?’ she stammered.

‘As in contraception?’

She could scarcely believe that she had given no thought to such an important issue. Yet, swept away by passion, she hadn’t.

And now it might be too late.

Looking at her half-averted face, he added blandly, ‘I’ve always been led to believe that modern women didn’t take any chances.’

They probably didn’t, she thought miserably, but she could hardly be described as a modern woman in that sense.

‘So you’re not?’ he pressed.

‘No,’ she admitted in a small voice.

There was a pause, as though he was considering what she’d told him, then he said, ‘Oh, well, at least we don’t need to worry too much about it.’

Ruffled by his insouciance, she said stiffly, ‘You may not need to.’

‘Don’t you like children?’ Simon asked.

‘Of course I do, but—’

‘Then there’s no real problem,’ he stated.

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘We can get married—’

‘What?’

‘We can get married,’ he repeated patiently.

‘Married!’

‘As there’s a possibility you may be pregnant…’

‘It’s only a possibility.’

‘I’d sooner we got married at once rather than waiting to be certain.’

‘B-but we’ve only just met,’ she stammered. ‘We don’t really know each other.’

‘Both those things can soon be remedied. Do you have any other quibbles?’

‘We come from totally different backgrounds,’ she protested.

‘Does that matter?’

‘It might well.’

‘I don’t happen to think so. Once we’re married—’

‘I can’t marry you,’ she gasped.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I can’t,’ she insisted raggedly.

A razor-sharp edge to his voice, he asked, ‘Are you in love with someone else?’

‘No.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Quite sure. If I’d been in love with someone else, last night would never have happened.’

He nodded as if satisfied.

‘And, as I was as much to blame as you, there’s no need to…’ She hesitated and stopped, biting her bottom lip.

‘Go all Victorian and propose?’ he suggested.

‘Exactly.’

Tongue-in-cheek, he said, ‘Perhaps I feel that it’s my duty as, at the very least, I’ve compromised you.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t joke about it.’

‘Very well, I’ll be serious. Hand on my heart, I’d like you to marry me.’

When she began to shake her head, his voice quizzical, he asked, ‘Do I take it you can’t stand the sight of me?’

‘No, it’s not that at all.’

‘But you really don’t want to be my wife?’ he pressed.

She did want to be his wife. Shaken by the knowledge, which came clear and sharp and certain, she hesitated.

His eyes on her expressive face, he persisted, ‘So what’s the problem?’

Pulling herself together, she informed him, ‘I couldn’t marry a man who doesn’t love me, who only suggested marriage because I might be pregnant.’

‘But I didn’t only suggest marriage because you might be pregnant. If you had been protected I would still have asked you to marry me.’

‘You must have an over-developed sense of chivalry,’ she said, her voice tart.

He raised a level brow. ‘How do you work that out?’

‘I take it it’s because I’m a guest in your house. Presumably you don’t propose to all the women you go to bed with?’

‘Neither do I rush them into it.’

‘As I allowed myself to be rushed into it, the responsibility’s mine. You don’t have to marry me,’ Charlotte snapped.

‘I happen to want to,’ he said quietly.

‘Why?’

Reaching out a hand, he took her chin and turned her face towards his. ‘Would you believe it if I told you that when we met for the first time my heart stood still?’

Hurt and angered by his mockery, she said tightly, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

‘Pity, as it happens to be the truth.’

When, hardly able to believe her ears, she simply stared at him, he went on softly, ‘I thought you were the most exquisite creature I’d ever set eyes on, and I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. Happy now?’

Suddenly she was. Ecstatically happy. ‘Yes.’

‘Then you’ll marry me?’

‘What will your grandfather say?’

‘Don’t worry, he’ll be pleased. He took an instant liking to you.’

‘I’m glad… I like him.’

‘Good. But you still haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?’

She should have said she needed a clear head, time to think. Instead, under his spell, she found herself agreeing, ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.’

His little smile was that of a conqueror as he tilted her face up to his and kissed her.

The stubble of his beard rasped her lips and, her stomach clenching, she opened her mouth to his searching tongue.

While he deepened the kiss, forcing her head back against the pillows, his hands found the rounded curves of her breasts and the pink nipples firmed under his touch.

With a stifled gasp she ran her fingers into his thick blond hair, holding him to her, while desire rose inside her. It flowed from the centre of her being like red-hot lava, swamping everything but her need for him.

Slipping the shirt from her shoulders, he tossed it aside and eased her onto her back, kissing her closed eyelids, her cheekbones, her throat, while one hand slid down over her ribcage and stomach to the silky skin of her inner thighs.

She was shivering, but it had nothing to do with the cool air of the room, as she abandoned herself to his experienced fingers. When his mouth took the place of his fingers she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out.

His lovemaking was infinitely skilled and gentle, coaxing the maximum sensation from her body while he kept her just on the brink.

Finally, unable to stand any more, she begged huskily, ‘Please, oh, please…’ and felt his weight with gratitude.

This time, showing a steely control over his own body and hers, he moved with maddening slowness. Drawing shuddering thrills from her, he withdrew to the very tip before pressing back again, creating a slow spiralling need that built into a white-hot molten core of tension.

Only when her body instinctively began to urge his did he move faster, driving deeper, until the tension exploded like a volcano. She cried out at the intense pleasure, and heard his low, answering groan.

When their heart-rate and breathing returned to normal he lifted himself away, and, gathering her up, brushed her damp, tangled hair away from her cheeks and kissed her.

Totally at peace and engulfed by a kind of languid sweetness, she fell asleep in his arms, her face against his throat.

When Charlotte awoke for the second time she was alone in the bed. Logs flamed and crackled in the grate and a welcome smell of coffee was drifting in from the scullery.

She was about to get out and pull on the shirt before fetching her clothes, when the door opened and Simon came in carrying a large wooden tray. He was fully dressed, his blond hair, still a little damp from the shower, parted on the left and tidily combed. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.

‘Starving.’

‘The best I can manage is black coffee followed by tinned sausages and baked beans. Not very exciting, I’m sorry to say, but as we’ve expended so much energy,’ he added wickedly, ‘I thought we’d better go for it.’