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

‘Forgive me, Kate… Kate.’ He was forced to repeat her name a little louder to drag her back from her erotic daydreams.

‘Forgive you—’ she murmured distractedly, looking up at him with eyes clouded with desire. ‘For what?’

‘I haven’t been paying you enough attention,’ he murmured, a gleam of intuition brightening his gaze as he stared down at her.

As his cool minty breath caressed her neck Kate felt all the tiny hairs stand erect. Had he been neglecting her? If this was how it felt to be ignored she couldn’t wait to have his full attention. ‘Have you been sidetracked? I hadn’t noticed.’ His eyes were dark with humour when she looked up into them.

‘Bien, I’ve been talking to quite a few people,’ he said. ‘You must have noticed.’

‘Well, I didn’t,’ Kate said, adding by way of an excuse, ‘I’ve been enjoying the dancing too much.’

‘So that’s what it was,’ he said, pretending to be serious, though she could see the amusement tugging at his lips.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Those little sighs of yours,’ he murmured within nibbling distance of her ear.

He seemed to stop just short of exploring it with his tongue and Kate could do nothing to stop the shiver that vibrated through his hands. ‘So, what were you talking about?’ she said, looking for safer ground.

‘Oh, the little personal things that worry people the most.’

‘I suppose setting the business back on track has taken up all your time.’

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘And the business must remain a prime concern if it is to flourish. But I think I’ve turned the corner so it’s time to play catch-up on everything I’ve been missing.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, I have time to take a look around at what’s happening closer to home,’ he said enigmatically, falling into the rhythm of the slow dance again.

As the darkening sky became tinged with tangerine and magenta their fellow dancers slipped away and it was a moment or two before Kate realised that the music had stopped.

‘No, you two, please don’t stop on my account—’

As the voice of Guy’s mother slipped between Kate and her fantasy, Guy showed no inclination to release her.

‘What a lovely party, my dear,’ the Countess said, touching her arm. ‘We are all so very grateful to you—’

‘Oh, no, it was nothing—’

‘It was a great deal more than nothing,’ the Countess reprimanded her gently. ‘You have no idea how it brought people together and made them so happy that all their worries were left behind for an afternoon. Why,’ she exclaimed, ‘I can’t remember anything quite like it since—’ She stopped suddenly and Guy reached out his hand. The Countess took it in a firm grip. ‘Look at you, you lucky man!’ she said, collecting herself hurriedly.

‘A beautiful woman on each arm,’ he supplied, smiling down at her.

He drew both of them close, planting a kiss on the crown of each head. He would have to make it fair—for the sake of appearances, Kate realised, exchanging smiles with the Countess. ‘I’m so pleased you enjoyed yourself. And now you’ve been to see us, don’t be a stranger.’

‘Well, actually, that’s the reason I wanted to have a word with you,’ the Countess said, casting a measuring glance at Kate from beneath a thick fringe of lashes so like her son’s.

‘Shall we sit down, Mother?’ Guy suggested, moving to take her arm.

‘Contrary to what you might think, Guy,’ she informed him promptly, ‘I am quite capable of dancing the night away should I choose to do so.’

‘Of course, Mother,’ he said, inclining his head in a brief bow.

‘Now, Kate,’ she said, turning the full beam of still beautiful eyes on Kate’s face. ‘Megan said it would make more sense if I stayed over at the cottage tonight, and I wanted to speak to you before I agreed. You see,’ she continued, seeing Kate’s face light up with interest, ‘Megan has a plan.’

‘A plan?’ Guy queried.

‘To paint the river at dawn—to capture the special way light filters through the trees… You don’t mind?’

‘Of course I don’t mind, Mother… Kate?’

Kate thought quickly. There was still a very nice guest room going spare, overlooking the garden. ‘Of course I don’t mind. In fact, I’ll probably join you on the painting expedition—’

‘Ah…’ The Countess looked crestfallen for a moment.

‘Is there a problem?’ Kate said gently, all her energies focused on nurturing the Countess’s tentative return to the outside world.

‘My plants—’

‘The gardeners can very easily add your prize collection to their watering duties,’ Guy pointed out with typical masculine pragmatism.

‘Out of the question,’ his mother corrected firmly. ‘I trust those plants to no one—but Kate. You will do that for me, dear?’

‘Of course, but…’

‘Last thing at night and first thing in the morning,’ the Countess instructed, shooting a warning glance at her son. ‘You’ll find the feed by the side of the watering can. Guy will show you what to do.’ And, having made her wishes clear, she gave Kate’s arm a grateful pat then sailed back to join Megan’s group of fledgling artists, a group Kate was thrilled to see had grown to include a number of villagers as well as the guests from La Petite Maison.

Realising that either Guy or his chauffeur was now destined to run to and fro with her from the château, Kate turned to offer her apologies.

‘I’m very grateful to you for the improvement I see in my mother,’ he said bluntly. ‘And, frankly, I don’t see the problem. Stay over,’ he said as if he was inviting her to take tea on the lawn. ‘I don’t think we should compromise her recovery by placing unnecessary obstacles in her path, do you?’

‘Well, no… No, of course not.’ Kate’s heart stopped. Guy’s invitation was so tempting, so full of possibilities. ‘But do I really need to stay?’ she said, longing for him to insist she did.

‘Why not? It’s not as if I’m short of bedrooms, and you’ve stayed at the château before.’

‘But it will only take a couple of minutes at most to see to the plants—’

‘I thought we had a lot to talk about.’

So much for fantasies! She might have known the covenants would raise their ugly heads sooner or later.

‘We might have another drink,’ Guy told her reasonably. ‘Then I shan’t want to drive.’

‘But your driver—’

‘Will be at Madame Duplessis’s disposal.’

Kate thought about it for a moment. Much as she hated being backed into a corner, she could hardly force the issue. ‘So, what do you want to discuss?’

‘Must I draw up an agenda?’

His choice of words confirmed her suspicions that the topic for discussion was business.

‘You’ve done all you can here,’ he pointed out.

Glancing towards the cottage, Kate saw a group of about a dozen people clustered around Megan, hanging on her every word. She needed time to think—to work out how to save the situation. ‘But there’s the clearing up to do,’ she argued.

‘Don’t you think Madame Duplessis can take care of that?’

Now she saw that a number of staff from the château had arrived and were setting everything straight again under the housekeeper’s direction.

‘Let’s go,’ Guy said, reaching for his jacket.

‘I’ll need some things—’

‘You’ve got a whole room full of clothes at the château,’ he said, drawing her arm through his. ‘Or had you forgotten?’

Guy drove his iron-grey Aston Martin straight round to the back of the château and took Kate down the same flight of steps she’d ventured down before. Pausing only to snap on the lights, he led the way across the concrete floor of the vast plant nursery. Opening the door through which he had disappeared on her first visit, he beckoned her in.

‘Welcome to Mother’s retreat,’ he said, bending to switch on a lamp that provided just a mellow glow in contrast to the stark working light they had just left. ‘You’re very honoured,’ he said, stepping deeper into the small room. ‘No one is allowed in here apart from me—and now you,’ he said, searching her face for a reaction.

Kate stood in silence, looking around, and then turned to shut the door behind her—shutting out the world, she realised, feeling the heavy pall of sadness close around her.

‘Perhaps now you can understand why I am so grateful to you,’ Guy said softly, leaning back against an old mahogany sideboard housing a collection of beautiful pot plants.

It had seen some wear, Kate thought, though the pictures in their silver frames vying for space amidst the plants had been dusted recently and their frames gleamed bright with attention. There was more furniture in the room—all of it old and shabby, almost as if it had been picked up in one of the characterful flea markets in Paris.

‘From their student days,’ Guy confirmed, reading her face. ‘They shared a small flat—’

‘Your mother and father?’

‘They were also young once,’ he said, his eyes reflecting the depth of his affection for them.

Moving closer, Kate could see the photographs. Some, old and grainy, showed the Countess as a beautiful young girl, her face glowing with vitality…and love. ‘Your father was so handsome,’ she remarked, seeing the resemblance at once between father and son. She stroked one finger down a lock of ebony hair tied with a white lace ribbon faded in part to yellow that hung over one corner of the frame.

‘My father’s,’ Guy confirmed. ‘Taken on honeymoon while he slept and tied with a ribbon Mother saved from her wedding bouquet.’

‘That’s the most romantic thing I ever heard,’ Kate said softly. ‘Your mother must have loved him very much.’

‘I loved him very much,’ Guy corrected gently, ‘but he was her life.’

‘We must help her,’ Kate said passionately as she stared into Guy’s eyes. She could see his loss written there as clearly as she had seen it in his mother’s eyes, and impulsively she reached out her hand to him. ‘I know you’re hurting too.’

‘We all are,’ he said, taking both her hands in his and bringing them to his lips.

‘You were right, you know,’ Kate admitted.

‘About?’

‘Me… Aunt Alice. I can see why you were so worried about the way I reacted when the cottage was on fire. This isn’t the way…’ She gazed about the 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 images she only begged him for more and in words she barely recognised.

But Guy was too strong for her and would not be hurried. He chose instead to watch her responses with a lazy interest, capturing her wrists and holding them high above her head whilst tracing an unhurried path down her neck, her shoulder and then her arm with his other hand. Time was suspended in a realm where sensation ruled and Kate barely registered the fact that he had eased the zip down the back of her dress until she felt him teasing her nipple with his tongue through the taut lace of her bra.

With long, shuddering sighs, she meshed her fingers through his thick black hair, increasing the pressure, but he broke away, taking his shirt over his head in one fluid move. As he reached for the buckle on his black leather belt she watched him release it, thrilling with pleasure to see him as eager as she was to be rid of his clothes. Then, as he lowered the zip on his linen trousers and swung off the bed to step out of them, she feasted her eyes again on his iron-flat stomach banded with muscle. Relishing her female power, Kate allowed her gaze to rove slowly and appreciatively over his magnificently proportioned torso and then on to where his black silk underpants accentuated, rather than concealed, his raging desire. Sprawling back with one arm tucked comfortably behind her head, she bent one knee a little, deliberately and very provocatively, as she continued to stare at him.

Realising he was the floor show with an audience of one, Guy caught her gaze and returned it loaded with the promise of delicious retribution. Then, matching his length to hers, he rested his head on the heel of his hand and scorched a trail with his eyes over every deeply aroused inch of her. Only after what seemed like the longest time did he turn his attention back to her face. ‘Your lips are red and swollen from my kisses,’ he observed, tracing them with one firm thumb pad. ‘Your eyes are emerald-bright and feverish with desire… And your hair is gloriously disordered and streaming over your breasts…’

Each of his words was like a caress and each one of them stimulated her a little more. She gasped out loud when his hand claimed her breast. But when she reached for him he only laughed softly and held her hand away.

‘Not yet,’ he said, scoring tantalising circles around her achingly sensitive nipples with the tips of his nails. ‘Take your bra off for me first.’ And now it was his turn to settle back to watch her with his head resting comfortably on his arms.

‘Not yet,’ Kate said, deliberately provoking him. Straddling him so that she had the comfort of feeling his arousal against her, she thrust out her breasts. She knew how Guy loved to toy with her responses, play her effortlessly so that as each moment passed she thought the next would bring satisfaction, only to have him deny her again… Well, now it was her turn. As he moved forward to take matters into his own hands she leaned back. ‘Not yet,’ she repeated in a voice full of irony.

But she had underestimated him and his reflexes were lightning-fast. The gasp as he swung her underneath him turned to a moan as his hands closed over each distended nipple and his thumbs began to chafe them firmly, mercilessly through the taut fabric until the livid buds became unbearably sensitive. ‘You always did like playing games,’ he said. ‘Is this what you had in mind?’

‘Yes… Oh, yes—’ she managed before his plundering mouth cut her off again. And then her bra was gone and her lush breasts were fully exposed for his perusal. She had the satisfaction of hearing his sharp breath of approval before strong hands robbed her mind of the power of thought as they moved to measure and stroke and clasp and mould. Then, dipping his head to suckle, he teased her with his lips and with his teeth until she knew she would go mad with frustration.

As she sucked in a deep and shuddering breath he looked up, but the confident humour in his eyes warned her that he hadn’t finished with her yet. Teasing her breasts with his hands, he lit a trail of fire down to her waist with his kisses until, finally easing her thighs apart, he sank down between her legs.

He nuzzled the damp scrap of lace, tracing the swollen lips it confined with his tongue. But as Kate lifted her knees and cupped her hands behind them, opening herself more for his enjoyment, with a low growl of triumph he seized the thong and ripped it off. Kate responded immediately, impatient fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his black silk underwear. Guy allowed her to wrestle him for a while until, pushing her on to her back, he brought the playfulness to a close with stroking fingers and a mouth that knew too much about pleasure. But when almost immediately Kate found herself teetering on the edge of release she tried to push him away.

Lifting his head, he murmured wryly, ‘This is no time to be self-conscious.’

‘I know,’ Kate admitted huskily, turning her head away to mumble, ‘but I’m scared.’

Reaching a hand up, he cupped her chin to turn her back to face him. ‘Scared of what, baby…losing control?’ And when she didn’t answer he coaxed her legs apart again. ‘Don’t worry… I’ve got you. Let go.’

And when she did as he said it was with such a burst of sensation she cried out in astonishment and bucked against him for the longest time until he wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her more intimately and more tenderly than ever before. ‘And now it’s my turn,’ he murmured, guiding her hand down to where there was no hope at all of containing him within one of her fine-boned fists. But when the fears came back he knew just how to soothe them and how to tempt her on until, lodging one powerful thigh between her legs, he finally held her powerless beneath him.

‘I’m really frightened now,’ Kate admitted in a gasp, and more by his size than any doubt as to his consideration for her.

‘No, you’re not,’ Guy insisted huskily, warming her ear with his breath. ‘You’re inexperienced and apprehensive, but never frightened, Kate—not with me. I would never, never hurt you.’