Emily and the Notorious Prince Page 14

  ‘But you’ve had so many women. Beautiful women. Women who know how to p-pl-pleasure a man…what to do to t-turn you on.’

  ‘That’s all in the past,’ he said bleakly. ‘This is about now. About you, and you don’t have to do anything. You turn me on so much just by the way you move, the way you talk—Christo , just the way you breathe…’

  Without knowing what she was doing Emily had brought her hands up to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her lips to silence the whimpers of longing that threatened to escape her as his rough, raw voice vibrated through her. Very gently now he took hold of her wrists and pulled her hands down, drawing her forward towards the stairs

  ‘Just you. As you are. No technicalities. No precise, practised steps, remember?’

  The stairs led straight up into a single, large room under the eaves of the house. A window at one end looked straight out over the forest, and above the tops of the trees Emily could see the silver glimmer of a crescent moon in the blue velvet sky. She took a step towards it, expelling a shaky breath.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  Luis was standing behind her. She did as she was told, and a moment later felt his hand on her waist, while he very gently lifted her arm, trailing his fingers lingeringly along the sensitive skin on its underside. It was like a movement from the ballet—part of the grand adage , the slow and seductive courtship between the dancers. She felt her spine flexing, her pelvis tilting back towards him, her body coming to life in his hands.

  Slowly, inch by inch, his fingers stroked their path of bliss over her shoulder and along the curve of her neck until finally they reached the zip fastening of her dress. Unhurriedly they lingered there, caressing a curl of hair that had escaped from its twist. She could feel his breath, warm on her neck, could feel the heat spreading inside her, the dampness seeping down between her trembling thighs, and she knew that she had to hold herself very still, very rigid, to ride the waves of deranging ecstasy that were swelling within her.

  Her eyes were still tightly shut, the darkness magnifying every touch, every sensation. It was getting harder to stop the shivers of pleasure that were building inside of her, and as she felt him begin to ease the zip of her dress down she stiffened with the effort, biting down, hard, on her lip to keep herself from crying out.

  He stopped. Her eyes flew open as, horrified, she thought he had had second thoughts, decided after all that she wasn’t sexy or exciting or seductive enough. But then she felt his mouth brush her nape, his breath caressing her, his tongue tracing silken circles around the vertebra at the base of her neck.

  This time she couldn’t hold back the deep shudder of desire. His hands came up to grip her shoulders, holding her steady as she tipped back her head and gave a gasp of pleasure and anguish.

  ‘It’s OK…’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘It’s OK to let go…’

  ‘I can’t …’

  ‘You can…querida , you can whenever you want to.’

  He had eased the zip of her dress the rest of the way down now, right to her waist. Emily sucked her stomach in, her whole body tensing as his big, skilled, steady hands moved over her back, stroking the rigid angles of her shoulder blades, his thumbs finding the hollows above her hips as his fingers slipped beneath the gaping satin bodice to gently brush her waist. Emily crossed her arms over her chest, holding the dress against her bare breasts as her head fell heavily forward, her spine arching helplessly.

  ‘I want to see you.’

  Her head snapped up and a protest sprang to her lips, but it was useless—Luis was already turning her around to face him. The dying light from the window behind her turned his skin to dull gold, and the reflection of the moon shone in eyes which were dark, fathomless pools.

  Her arms were still locked across her chest. She half expected him to peel them away, but he made no move to do so. Instead he reached out and touched her mouth lightly with his fingertips.

  ‘You’re exquisite,’ he said simply.

  And that one butterfly touch, combined with the intensity of his moon-drenched gaze, broke through the bonds which held her back. With his fingers still against her mouth she parted her lips, exhaling a ragged, needy breath and in an instant she was crushed against him as he kissed her with a wildness and an urgency that made everything that had come before seem like a childish game.

  It was as if she had been locked in some dark, cramped place and he had released her. Just as he had opened the door to this secret house of shadows with one touch of his fingertip, so had he magically unlocked a secret, joyful part of her that wasn’t afraid and didn’t care about being perfect. There was nothing disciplined in the wantonness with which she kissed him back—her tongue tangling with his, her lips exploring, tasting, sucking, tearing—and nothing controlled in the way her shaking fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to touch his warm skin.

  His hands were in her hair, working with considerably more finesse at the diamond comb and the pins which held it up, swiftly and expertly dispatching them until the elegant pleat uncoiled and fell about her shoulders. Pulling back from her he held her at arm’s length for a moment, giving a subdued moan as he raked his fingers through it, tousling it out of its sleekness. She had forgotten to hold the top of her dress up, and it fell down over her shoulders, half exposing her breasts.

  ‘I think it’s time to take this off,’ he said roughly, pushing it down completely and sliding it over her hips so it settled on the floor in a crimson pool.

  She heard him breathe in, felt him recoil slightly, his whole body tensing as she stepped out of it. For a moment all her doubts returned, but as she glanced anxiously up at his face she saw that it was desire he was struggling to control, and a second later he had scooped her up into his arms and was carrying her across to the wide bed at the other end of the room.

  The sheets were cool beneath her back and she spread herself across them. He bent over her, and she caught the dark gleam of his eyes, the clean musk scent of his skin as he lowered his head and took her tight nipple in his mouth. Ten thousand volts of bliss shot through her and she cried out, jerking convulsively as his hands held her steady, but he didn’t stop. Inch by quivering inch he covered her body with a thoroughness that felt like reverence, until Emily was floating, spaced out, incandescent.

  She wasn’t aware of him taking off the rest of his clothes, but as she felt the hard warmth of his flesh against hers she registered his nakedness. For a second he pulled away from her, and she glimpsed the astonishing, magnificence of his erection as he deftly rolled on a condom, and she felt she was teetering on the edge of some dizzying precipice she hadn’t even known was there. Her legs twined helplessly around him, her supple body moulding against him as she opened herself up to his kisses. Dimly she was aware that he was holding her waist, lifting her on top of him so she was astride his hips, and she wasn’t sure whether the throbbing, tightness she could feel beneath her was her own body or his. Instinctively she raised herself up on her knees, arching backwards, sweeping her hair off her hot damp neck as she tilted her hips, hungry for him.

  ‘I want…more…. All of you…’

  In one fluid movement he had levered himself up and was holding her against him, taking her face between his hands, kissing her fiercely before rolling her over onto the bed and towering above her. His perfect face was cool and remote, his expression almost abstracted as with infinite tenderness he entered her.

  She had expected it to hurt, had stiffened momentarily in anticipation, but there was nothing but an incredible feeling of relief—relief so strong she could have wept with it. But already another sensation was overtaking her, one so powerful and compelling that it made everything else slide out of focus—a sort of exquisite sweetness that gripped her body so tightly that it felt almost like pain.

  She opened her eyes, gazing up at him in panic, as the fear of being overwhelmed…out of control came back. And then for a split second she saw the expression in his eyes, the intensity o
f his desire, before his eyelids flickered and closed and she knew that this strong, fearless man was surrendering too. His powerful body tensed, the hard muscles of his back bunching beneath her hands as he thrust inside her again.

  It was too late. She couldn’t hold on, couldn’t hold herself together any more, and she was falling, shattering, dissolving…

  Except he was there, anchoring her and holding her safe, rocking her, and murmuring into her hair as the spasms of aching bliss gripped her body and then went on shuddering through her like the aftershocks of a massive earthquake.

  Lying in the ruins she knew that nothing would ever look the same again.

  ‘I never dreamed I could feel like that.’

  Emily’s head was on his chest, her fingers idly caressing his upper arm. Looking up into the high, sloping eaves, just as he had done so many times over the years when he’d brought women here, Luis smiled bleakly.

  ‘Neither did I.’

  She raised herself up on her elbows, looking down into his face with a slight frown. It was almost completely dark outside now, but her blue eyes glowed with a luminescence that came from within her.

  ‘Was it OK?’

  Was it OK. He didn’t know what to say. OK didn’t really begin to describe what had happened back there.

  ‘It was more than OK.’

  ‘I’m sorry that I didn’t do all the things for you that you did for me…’ Her blue eyes were suddenly hidden by a downward sweep of her lashes.

  ‘It was just as well you didn’t. I wouldn’t have lasted two minutes if you had.’ Watching her gradually let go, give herself up, lose control, had been the most intensely erotic experience of his life, but for that very reason it had also been one of the most challenging. To rein himself back and control his own devouring lust after so long had been agonising and exhausting and exhilarating…and ultimately profoundly satisfying. It made him realise that up until now he hadn’t known the meaning of making love. What he had been doing before with that long procession of anonymous women was like picking out a nursery rhyme tune with one finger on the piano. Joining dots. Colouring in a crude drawing with crayons. This had been a concert-standard, full rendition of Beethoven’s Ninth , a masterpiece in oils.

  ‘Next time,’ she said softly, her hand moving downwards.

  From outside he could hear the drone of a helicopter. He got up abruptly, swearing in Portuguese as he reached for the clothes he had thrown on the floor.

  ‘We need to get dressed.’

  ‘Luis—’

  ‘We don’t have long before the royal security force smashes its way in here to see if we’ve been kidnapped by terrorists, so please…’ He picked up her dress and went over to the bed with it, trying not to breathe in the scent of her that clung to the red silk because he knew it would weaken his resolve.

  Clutching the sheet to her she sat up and took it from him, her eyes huge with terrible emotion—dread, anguish, hurt.

  ‘You’re trying to tell me there won’t be a next time, aren’t you? This is it—’

  He stopped in the middle of buttoning up his shirt and spun round to face her. ‘Deus , Emily, that’s not what I want.’ His hands, dropping to his sides, curled reflexively into fists. ‘But you deserve much more than I can give you.’

  ‘I’m not a child, Luis.’ She got to her feet, still holding the dress bundled up in her arms. Against the darkness of her hair and the scarlet silk her face was very white. ‘Not any more. I don’t want some neat and perfect fairy-tale happy ending. I want this.’ She came towards him, her strong bare feet making no sound on the wooden boards, her eyes as clear and unclouded as a summer sky. ‘It’s like all the things I’ve never quite understood suddenly make sense now, and after years of controlling and disciplining my body and forcing it to be perfect I finally know what it’s really for.’

  She put her hand flat against his bare chest, over his heart. His muscles instantly tensed against the violent longing that leapt within him.

  ‘Meaningless sex?’ He had meant it to sound sardonic, a mocking reference to that night back in the hotel in England, but the bitterness in his voice cut through the soft shadows between them like razor blades.

  She didn’t flinch. When she replied her voice was soft and thick, like velvet, and it wrapped around him. ‘Yes, if you want to put it like that. Meaningless sex.’

  Outside the staccato whirr of the helicopters was getting louder. Luis looked towards the window, panic and despair welling within him.

  Forgive me, Rico, he thought bleakly. Forgive me, but understand this…I haven’t broken my promise…

  Standing over Rico’s coffin the night before the funeral he had made a vow to give up the casual meaningless sex with women whose names he barely knew.

  And he had.

  The thing that frightened him now was that this was something entirely different.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EMILY wrote to Oscar.

  She began by writing Dear Daddy , because that was how she and her sisters had always addressed him, but something about the childish term sounded odd now. Swallowing her misgivings she plunged on.

  I know from Luis that you won’t be surprised by the address at the top of this page. He tells me that he has been in touch with you several times since I met him by chance in London. I’m grateful to him for that. At the time I thought I was managing everything perfectly well when actually I wasn’t thinking straight about anything at all, and I didn’t stop to think how worried you must have been.

  She stopped here, the nib of her pen poised above the velvety surface of the palace notepaper. That wasn’t quite right either. She had realised how worried he would be, but the truth was she’d been too angry with him to care.

  How selfish and childish that seemed now.

  She continued, smiling a little as she wrote Luis’s name.

  I’m grateful to Luis for so much. Amongst other things, he has enabled me to see how badly I behaved towards you after Mia arrived. Looking back now I’m ashamed of how judgemental I was, and how immature and naive. I hope that you’ll forgive me, and that Mia will too. I’ve written to her separately—is she still staying with you at Balfour?

  Suddenly it struck her how long she’d been away. Not so very long in terms of weeks and months perhaps, but in terms of everything that had happened. When she’d left it had been winter, and her mother’s presence had still filled the house. If she went back now would she find that Lillian’s spirit, the gentle serenity she always brought to a place, would be gone too?

  A tear fell onto the page and she quickly blotted it, starting to write again.

  I’m here, as I’m sure you know, to teach ballet to Luis’s niece, Luciana, whose parents were so tragically killed in a helicopter crash last year—I’m sure you remember. At first she didn’t talk much at all—about that or anything else—but as I’ve got to know her better she’s opened up a lot more, and I now think that one of the saddest things about what’s happened is that she didn’t really feel close to her parents or loved by them. It has made me realise how lucky I was to have you and Mum and to be so loved and protected. So much so that in some ways I was unprepared for the real world, like the princess in the tower in the fairy story you used to read to me when I was little. I suppose I never thought about what would happen when the time came—as it inevitably must—to leave that tower and go out into the big bad world, and it’s been harder and more painful than I could have imagined. But it’s also been…

  Here she stopped again, not knowing how to convey on paper, to her father, the bittersweet rapture of the past few weeks. Sweet because Luis had freed her from the fears of losing control, of not being perfect, of being overwhelmed by the forbidden desires she had always known lay just below the surface. He had, ironically, brought all of these fears to fruition, but in doing so had shown her that she didn’t have to be afraid or ashamed any more.

  But the bitter edge came from knowing she couldn’t touch him in the
same way that he touched her. That while she had opened herself up to him completely, there was still a part of him that he kept hidden from her. Hidden and locked and barred.

  With a sigh she looked back down at the page in front of her:…wonderful , she finished, lamely. Biting her lip she began to write more quickly, suddenly wanting to get the letter finished and in the post to Oscar.

  I’m also dancing properly again—another thing for which I have Luis to thank. I am taking part in King Marcos Fernando’s Silver Jubilee celebration, performing as a soloist with the Brazilian National Ballet. I’m doing a pas de deux from Giselle, and Luciana is doing a little dance from The Nutcracker. I was wondering if perhaps…

  She frowned, her usually neat handwriting beginning to slope.

  …you might think about coming over to watch it? I know that the King is an old friend of yours from way back and I gather that he’s not in the best of health so you shouldn’t put off coming if you want to see him again…

  She looked at her watch. She had been longer than she’d thought and the car would be waiting to take her to Santosa’s Grande Teatro. Moistening her lips with her tongue she plunged on, not wanting to think too hard about what she was writing in case she lost her nerve.

  Of course, what I’m really saying is that I want to see you, so badly. I’ve missed you so very much.

  Hastily she finished, tears blurring her eyes as she signed off with her love and wrote the familiar address, just as she had done every Sunday night for all those years when she’d been away at ballet school. Then she scooped up the thick cream envelope, along with her bottle of water and towel for the rehearsal, and went down to leave it on the post table in the hall, before she could change her mind.

  ‘I’m worried about you.’

  Luis eyed his father cynically. ‘Coming from a man in your condition, that is disturbing.’