His voice dipped, touched with huskiness. “We have been circling each other instead of exploring our attraction, avoiding testing if we have undeniable chemistry.”
“Attraction? Chemistry?” Is it going to be too savagely intense!
She had something about her that spoke of a decadent innocence and a delightful sensualness to him. He found himself wanting to lean closer again and kiss those luscious burgundy lips, but somehow he managed to hold back.
Kiss me again? Yes, yes, you can. However many times you want. She looked at him as if she still didn’t believe his half-spoken emotions and half-confusing flirtation, which didn’t match his previous behavior and intenseness.
“In fact, I have every intention of finding out what pleases you.”
“Indeed?” The question was breathless. “What if my principal interest is solitude?”
He took another step closer till his muscled thighs brushed against her buttocks.
Do you truly play this game out to the end, Laetitia? She pivoted to face him, and her hand fluttered over his chest before settling down. She was unsure if it was there to keep him away or not.
Their gazes locked.
As a myriad of emotions crossed Laetitia’s face, Tavish found himself fascinated by her expressions. Her violet-blue eyes didn’t seem capable of hiding a thing from him, though he was sure she’d like to. He watched a mixture of desire and fear play from deep within their depths.
“I would be very sad.” Lust slammed through his body at her touch. Her hand was so light yet firm upon his body that he could imagine those slender fingers wrapped around his manhood, stroking him.
“Why would my solitude sadden you?” she whispered.
He bent so his forehead was pressed against hers, and his hands cinched her waist. “I should be bereft of your company.” And this marvelous body of yours.
Growing up in a house full of abuse and devoid of love, Laetitia had quickly comprehended that the wildest were the truest to their nature and not afraid of betraying their strengths or weaknesses. She doubted she could handle a man like Tavish, because even with his urbane and civil armor, she could sense his reliable intenseness.
It was tempting to crane her neck back, only a bit, and meet those lush lips and let herself be carried by his consuming fire, but she forced herself to keep looking straight ahead. Focus on something else. “And The Blue Dot’s offer?”
He felt as if a pugilist had slammed an iron fist into his unprotected gut. His hands fell from her waist and he straightened to his full height. “Thank you for reminding me of it.”
She knew at once she had phrased her words wrongly. She exhaled a ragged breath. “Tavish—”
“Good night.” His voice was soft but firm as steel as he descended the two remaining steps. “Dinner—”
She grabbed his shirt by the back. “I didn’t mean it.”
The fuck you didn’t. He stopped. “What did you mean then?”
Her hand fell. “I don’t know.”
He whirled on her so quickly she stepped back.
“The Blue Dot’s offer is a reality. And I am one of its owners.” Fuck it all to hell! “I apologize if I offended ye, Laetitia, but I’m not sorry that I kissed you.”
She stared into those sea-green eyes, which burned with a need that sent an answering jolt of yearning through her body. “Neither am I.”
So why are you pushing me away? “Listen, I doona complicate my desires, and I’m honest with my emotions. I try tae be as simple and direct as I can. I find ye an intelligent, beautiful, and sexy woman. Simplifying it even more: I want you.”
And there he went slipping into his sexy Scottish accent that melted all her doubts and resolutions. Her gaze dropped. “You are right. We need to talk about it. Do you want to come in?”
Time for a strategic retreat. “Nae,” he answered and held his palm up when she opened her mouth. “I want ye tae think this through thoroughly before we talk about it. Know that no matter what your answer is, The Blue Dot’s offer stands. If you wish, I won’t even be the one taking care of your account.”
Ooo-kaaay! Laetitia stared at him for a moment and smiled. She smiled knowing what it would do to him.
Oh, man! She looked like the queen on the chessboard, waiting for her moment to strike. Tavish would give her that.
With a small, regal nod of her chin, she said, “I’ll call you when I have that answer then.”
He brooded upon his next move and decided simple was best for the moment. “Good night, Laetitia.”
He looked so in control, masculine, fierce, and serious that Laetitia didn’t resist; standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips over his. Before he could react, she said, “Good night, Tavish Uilleam.”
It was his turn to stare, as she turned and entered the house, closing the door softly behind her. He frowned. At every turn, she confounded him. He didn’t know what to expect, and worse, he didn’t know if his strategies would win her. The most complicated puzzle I’ve ever encountered. His lips opened in a wicked smile. He felt that strange impulse to laugh out loud as he walked to his car. But damn if I am not looking forward to the painful pleasure of putting those pieces together.
10:30 p.m.
Almost in a panic, Laetitia punched in Elizabeth Carmichael’s speed dial number, praying she would be in Leamington and not traveling the world giving speeches or attending conferences.
“Laetitia? Hey, I’ve missed you. Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“Hey, Liz. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.” Despite her nervousness, Laetitia smiled at Elizabeth’s usual greeting. She didn’t see or talk to her as often as she’d like. But still their friendship had stayed intact. “I’ve been here, as always.”
“As always,” Elizabeth huffed. “Next time, I’ll be informing my dear cousin Joseph you need some well-deserved holidays, and before you know it, you’ll be on an airplane with me.”
“Ah . . . OK,” she answered absentmindedly.
Elizabeth was a distant cousin to Baron Beardley, and she became the sister Laetitia had never had. Her only complaint was that Laetitia had slaved enough under Marcella’s orders without complaining.
“Are you still there?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes,” she said. “Liz . . . I’m—I need to ask you something.”
For years, they had been confidantes, and that was enough for her to pick up on the strain in Laetitia’s voice. “What’s wrong, Laetitia? You know you can come over at any time, or I can be there in a few minutes.”
Closing her eyes, Laetitia sighed. “I need your advice. Do you think I can mix business and pleasure? Is it too soon to engage in a sexual relationship after knowing a guy for only a few days?”
Laetitia could tell by Elizabeth’s silence that she was shocked by her question. She wasn’t turned speechless often.
But the reaction was not the one she was expecting.
“What!” Elizabeth squeaked on the other side of the line. “Hold on to that thought. I’ll drop by in seconds!” Almost jumbling the words, she said, “Make some tea. No! Get out your wine glasses. I’m bringing a bottle.”
Laetitia knew she’d face a hundred questions before she’d get her answer.
“He is a god, Laetitia,” Elizabeth said. “A pity his nose has been broken.”
Laetitia didn’t have to look; the minimal rugged line to his nose was already memorized. “It’s only a barely visible bend. More of a small scar. And if it makes him less handsome than he probably was, it makes him ten times more virile and attractive than any man I’ve ever seen.”
“OK, it’s razor thin but seeable. No reason to pick a fight with me,” Elizabeth tutted, from her place in front of Laetitia’s computer; her fingers clicked on the mouse, opening one link after another. “What is it about a visible, flesh-and-bone record of violence that makes a man so alluring to you women?”
“As if you weren’t a woman, Liz.” Laetitia rolled her eyes h
eavenward.
“Baby girl, I was registered as a woman. However, my tastes are so different I don’t count myself in your genre.” Elizabeth’s long, shocking-black hair, with overgrown bangs that concealed her eyebrows, bobbed to and fro as she silently nodded or shook her head as she analyzed the images and put them together with the small amount of information Laetitia had given her so far. “If I wasn’t married, and you weren’t so bloody straight, I’d have corrupted you after you refused my brother.”
“You’re just crazy, Liz. But if my tastes matched yours, and if you weren’t married, I’d be throwing myself at your beautiful self.” Laetitia giggled, eyeing her friend’s firm athletic body encased in a dark-brown suede jacket over a mud-green wool halter and tight leggings.
“Enough Googling. I’m hungry.” Elizabeth grabbed the bottle of wine and her glass, leaving the studio for the living room.
Laetitia started. “But—”
“No buts, or I’ll kick yours,” Elizabeth said, and motioned for Laetitia to follow her. “I need some answers before I give you my approval. First one: where is he from?”
“He was born in Scotland. English mother, Highlander father.”
Elizabeth stopped in the middle of the room and dramatically put an arm over her heavily lined eyes. “Oh, Lord! Probably a macho man.”
“Well, a man he is. I hope macho, too,” Laetitia giggled. “I don’t know how this can be bad.”
“If you say so, who am I to disagree?” Elizabeth’s laughter filled the room. Throwing herself on the sofa, she put her booted feet on the table, patting the place on the other side of her, but Cleopatra jumped on it and rested her head on Elizabeth’s leg. She harrumphed. “I was not talking to you, miss.”
Laetitia sat in the armchair and curled her legs beneath her, sipping her wine. “She’s missed you.”
“She’s spoiled, that’s what she is,” Liz answered, stroking Cleopatra’s head. “Nice guy or horny one? Have you known him long? How does he treat you?” inquired Elizabeth.
“Nice doesn’t apply. Horny, for sure. Less than three weeks. He’s polite to a fault.” She leaned on the sofa, sipping her wine, and sighed softly, her face taking on a dreamy look. “One word: intense.”
“Back to the matter at hand: to fuck or not to fuck, after a few dinners and encounters.”
“God, Liz, you don’t need to be so crass.” Laetitia closed her eyes, wishing the floor would swallow her up. When she opened her eyes again, Elizabeth was still sitting there, with a strange smile on her face. “I am seriously, seriously turned on. I called you because . . . we’ve gone out only once and talked once more in the garden and . . .”
“And?” Elizabeth eyed her.
“And he backed me against the wall a few hours ago. And kissed me. It was good.” Laetitia blushed. “As you say, toe-curling good.”
“There is no shame in being turned on or wanting to have sex, baby girl. I’d spread my legs for a man like him if it were my thing,” Elizabeth said seriously, but in her calling-a-spade-a-spade way. “We are in the twenty-first century, and you’ve been alone for a long time, and if he looks edible to me, for sure he would make your innocent head spin.”
“There’ll be no involvement.” She knew where her friend’s thoughts were coming from. It was all she wanted to hear, yet she was hesitant enough to deny it. “He is one of The Blue Dot’s owners. We are going to work together. So, there will be nothing of this couple thing you’re imagining.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth was taken aback by Laetitia’s statement. “He told you that?”
“Well . . . no.” She shrugged and started wrapping her silver-blonde hair around her fingers. “But I won’t put a new career on the line.”
“You’re afraid,” stated Elizabeth, pouring more wine.
“You have no idea.” Laetitia exhaled harshly. “He drafted a new contract. Impossible to refuse.”
“Bastard,” Elizabeth hissed.
“No! It’s not like he’s using it to get at me.” Laetitia realized she had given her friend the wrong impression. “In fact, he said he would step away and put someone else in charge of launching me in the art world.”
“So, Laetitia, if it’s not this nor that,” asked Elizabeth, “what is it?
“I want both. And I want him in charge of my career. Therefore, I’ll define a relationship where I don’t involve my feelings. Nor his.”
Elizabeth snorted. “So if you’re not getting involved, why did you call me here?”
“Because, I’m really attracted to him.” She breathed deeply as her heart rate sped up. “And I have no idea of what to do with this . . . but to quench the thirst. And I also want the contract, a chance to earn money. He is the way; I’ll just make a detour: adult sex with no strings attached and the contract.” She motioned to the envelope on the center table.
“Oh, that’s juicy! Adult sex! No strings!” Elizabeth sneered, a mix of surprise, happiness, and disgust in her voice.
Cleopatra hissed and jumped to the floor, curling around Laetitia’s legs.
“My mostly virginal friend—”
“I’m far from being a virgin,” Laetitia interrupted, annoyed.
“Not literally.” Elizabeth flicked her hand in the air, dismissing Laetitia’s protest. She drank her wine, licking her lips and leering at her suggestively. “Let me get this straight. You want to have a fucktion-ship.”
“A what?” Laetitia sputtered out.
“A fucktion-ship. Not even friends with benefits, just fucking between the sheets. A relationship that is only about fucking and getting some orgasms.”
“Oh.” Laetitia was astonished and shocked. Elizabeth normally didn’t mince words, but she had never spoken to her like this.
“I’m putting it in the open, darling,” Elizabeth replied. “To be frank, I agree. It’s time you won some hard-earned money and cleared your cunt of those cobwebs. Go for the contract and the fucking. And fuck hard.”
It was in a small voice she asked, “What do you mean, Liz?”
“I’m just showing you how you sound. This is not the Laetitia I know. You are shy and sweet—lovable and innocent in an endearing way. And I also know you are an adult woman who has been hurt but is living with desires and yearnings not fulfilled.” Elizabeth’s boots thudded on the floor. Cleopatra hissed. Not giving the cat a second glance, she put her elbows on her knees, staring deep into Laetitia’s eyes. “Friends are not supposed to push each other from the cliff but to help cross it.”
“I don’t want to cross anything.” Laetitia ran her hand over the red velvet of the sofa, watching it become matte, then lustrous. “I’d rather stay on the safe side. I want the contract. Sex is enough for now.”
“Oh, please! You’re afraid of involving yourself again, Laetitia? I’d say you were mad if you weren’t, but don’t pretend you have become a slut, especially between us.”
Laetitia put her forehead in her hand. “I don’t know why I’m behaving like this. It’s just . . . I don’t want to fall under his . . . spell.” She raised her head and made a vague motion with her hand. “And this is so . . .”
“New? With a taste of déjà vu? Laetitia, baby girl.” Elizabeth reclined on the sofa again with a sigh. “Every relationship is a new trail to be explored, and each one will lead to a different end. There is no need to make detours. You don’t have to be afraid because you mistook the nature of your first relationship.”
“It was more than a simple mistake.” Laetitia’s eyes became haunted, and Elizabeth wondered, for the umpteenth time, what her friend could have done that was so terrible. “We are allowed to make mistakes, you know?”
Depends on the perspective. Laetitia gazed at her friend wearily.
“This Tavish guy seems an interesting man, even turbulent. Enjoy yourself. If it’s just sex for the sake of quenching some wayward lust, great; if this turns out to be something you want to pursue further, even better. And sign the damn contract,” Elizabeth added, rising from
the sofa. “You know, baby girl, you don’t need to be afraid. The achievement of your dreams comes with the downside of the loss of anonymity, but it’s not so bad.”
Laetitia was not inclined to agree. “Hmm.”
“It’s a problem with no solution,” Liz continued, twirling her motorcycle keys in her fingers. “You can be an anonymous observer all your life, but then you never get the platform to transform those observations into art, or whatever it is you want to transform it into.”
“And that’s a lamentable paradox, because it’s the reason this industry is so hermetic.” Laetitia shook her head, opening the door for Liz. “It closes itself off from the world it wants to talk about.”
Before they kissed good-bye, Elizabeth said, “Baby girl, freedom of choice has been taken so many times from you, you are afraid it’ll boomerang on you when you try to make a choice.”
CHAPTER 18
Warwickshire
Lakeside Manor
Saturday, September 20, 2014
7:29 a.m.
The peace of the park seemed to appease Tavish’s mood. It had a tranquility only the large expanses of woodland could provide. The day was sunny and balmy, making the exercise more enjoyable. At the end of the running path, he stopped the chronometer and slowed his pace.
“Don’t tell me you’re unsatisfied still.” The oldest of the brothers, and longtime friend, Hugh Smith, was waiting for him by the southern entrance of the manor.
Tavish laughed dryly, elongating his calves and thigh muscles. “You are more obsessed than I am, Hugh.”
“Was. Not interested in being so anymore.” Six foot two, light-brown wavy hair, and hazel eyes, Hugh had ceased participating in sport activities, keeping his workout to a bare minimum.
They heard a distinctive clicking noise and whooshes, like a pair of scissors slicing through the air, growing louder. Closing in was Richard, Hugh’s brother. He had lost the lower of his legs in the war and used special prosthetics.
Tavish said, “My current target is to run a hundred feet in under seventy-five minutes. For some reason it always eludes me.”