Susan Stephens - Susan Stephens Selection - The French Count's Mistress / The Spaniard's Revenge / Virgin for Sale / Bedded by the Desert King

It was one thing drawing up plans for the new business venture in an emotion free zone. It was equally insane to imagine that a relationship with Guy, Count de Villeneuve was ever going to be anything more than a light-hearted friendship… And if that friendship occasionally overstepped the mark? Guy withdrew at the double and made it quite plain that it was only a momentary lapse, Kate reminded herself. But how could she remain unmoved, or do nothing, when she saw how the tragedy had shaken him to the very core—when she felt his pain as her own? It had been futile hoping to restore Aunt Alice’s possessions; she could see that now. But the damage done by the accident to Guy and his mother was different; she could make at least some impression on that.

When Kate found her spot again she could almost imagine that no time had passed at all and that any moment Guy might arrive at the head of his troupe of friends. Kicking off her sandals, she sank on to a lush cushion of grass and wild herbs. Then, taking her time to select a succulent strand, she plucked it and, rolling on her back in the dappled sunlight, closed her eyes and began pensively to chew.

‘Penny for them…’

‘Guy!’ Shading her eyes with her hands as she looked up at him, Kate saw that he looked even more handsome than he had in her mind’s eye—and infinitely more desirable.

‘What brings you here? No, don’t get up. You look so comfortable there—so happy and contented. Are you happy, Kate?’

Guilt brought a frown to her face before she could do anything to stop it.

‘No?’ he queried softly, making her feel even worse with his concern.

‘Guy, the covenants…’ Kate began, determined to make an end of it there and then.

‘ Pas maintenant ,’ he said holding up his hands. ‘I’ve had enough of business for one day.’

As he swiped a gloved hand across the back of his neck she saw the tension in his face and fell silent again. ‘What are you doing here?’ She could see he’d been riding. Riding hard, to judge by the state of his dust-streaked shirt. He tugged off his riding gloves and dropped them on the ground as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. She found herself facing legs planted either side of her, legs that were moulded in some close-fitting fabric that showed every contour and every curve of his hard muscles.

‘I asked you first,’ he reminded her.

Her throat felt dry. His voice was firm, demanding, his eyes narrowed in speculation as he waited for her answer. And when she stared into the sun and tried to summon up an explanation, he dropped to his knees beside her and took hold of her hands. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he insisted, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s a beautiful day. Be happy, Kate.’

She wanted to tell him then—tell him everything. But as he drew her close she could think of nothing except being in his arms. But his embrace was not the touch of a lover—it was something more, yet a lot less. It was something unique and precious, like the bittersweet kernel of happiness that blossomed inside her every time he was near, but it was controlled and chaste too, so that at the same time it answered all of her needs and none. But if this were all it could ever be, she would take it. ‘I am happy,’ she whispered, nestling into him, feeling his steady heartbeat against her face.

‘Do you mind?’ he said, letting her go at last to finger the buttons on his shirt.

‘Mind?’

‘If I take my shirt off.’

Kate longed to reach out to him and tackle each small tan horn button one by one…slowly. It didn’t take much to imagine how it might feel to slide the black shirt off the wide sweep of his shoulders, to feel the warmth of his skin under her fingers, to become familiar with the texture and revel in the strength of him… And then she would release it from the waistband of his breeches…

‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’ he repeated.

‘No, of course I don’t mind,’ she said, proud of herself for sounding so rational.

Guy gave a sigh of satisfaction as he tossed his shirt to one side. ‘ C’est bon ,’ he said, contentedly stretching out beside her.

Did he have any idea—any idea at all? Kate wondered, trying not to make it obvious as she eyed his incredible physique. His legs she already knew about, having studied them in some detail—but his stomach, she saw now, was completely flat and like his broad chest banded with muscle. There was a shading of dark hair on his tanned chest whose narrowing strip drew the eye down to where it disappeared above the fastenings on the waistband of his breeches…and it was possible to see beyond that without even appearing to look. Kate gasped as he shifted position, but he was only picking out his own strand of grass to suck. As he slipped it between his firm lips, for one heady moment she considered launching herself at him—but she knew he would only make a joke of it, so she settled back with her head on the grass… Close enough to hear him breathing, but far enough away to keep a hold on what remained of her sanity.

‘It was good to have you at the château last night,’ he said lazily, almost as if it was too much effort to speak. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

Had she enjoyed herself? How could she begin to tell him? Kate wondered, pausing before she spoke. ‘It was a wonderful moment when your mother walked in.’

‘As it was for her to see you,’ Guy said softly. ‘I can assure you of that.’

‘And the meal was delicious, the wine too,’ Kate said as every moment came flooding back in minute detail. ‘And the setting is superb, but then, of course, you know that.’ She stopped as he hummed a response that seemed to demand more from her. But what more could she say? When Megan had left for the cottage the air had been charged with something indefinable—something of her own conjuring, she knew that now. At the time she had thought it a tension they both felt—but now she knew she was wrong. Oh, he had kissed her—on the cheek when he took her home. But earlier, when she had tried to make it something more, he had taken her wrists in a careful grip and gently pushed her away. Of course, there was still the puzzle of that one kiss, the first kiss on her return… There had been nothing remotely chaste about that…

‘Daydreaming, Kate?’

Now it was her turn to hum a noncommittal response that answered nothing.

‘Last night,’ Guy prompted patiently, leaning on one elbow to look down at her. ‘Was it all right for you?’

Right question, wrong occasion, Kate thought ruefully, smothering a smile as she rolled away from him on to her stomach. ‘I had a wonderful evening. So did Megan.’

‘That’s good,’ Guy murmured, trailing a strand of grass across the back of her neck, ‘because I’m thinking of asking you again.’

‘Really?’ Kate’s heart was thumping as she turned to stare up at him.

‘Yes, I thought I might show you the dungeons this time. What do you think?’

‘The same dungeons Megan thinks you should be locked up in?’ Kate said.

‘The very same,’ Guy admitted in a teasing drawl as he ran his strand of grass down her naked arm. His lips curved with satisfaction as he watched her quivering reaction. ‘Still as sensitive as ever, Kate?’ He sounded pleased.

It used to be called ticklish years back…and ticklish was a harmless definition, sensitive was not, Kate realised, as she indulged herself for a few private moments in the waves of arousal buffeting her senses. ‘Tell me about your dungeons,’ she said huskily, hoping to distract him. She relaxed her head down on to her folded arms and waited… After all, she told herself as she waited for him to embellish her erotic fantasies, she had never had the opportunity to visit them.