Before their quarrel over questioning his father, Corrie had agreed to meet Lucas there at eight. She needed only a moment to pick him out of the crowd. It wasn’t that he was taller or dressed differently, though he did look magnificent in a tuxedo. Some strange, invisible current began to flow the moment they were in the same room together. She felt his presence as soon as she came through the door.
He spotted her at the same instant and smiled in her direction. She hoped that meant he’d been watching for her, anticipating her arrival. Her spirits lifted as her uncertainty faded. Whatever had passed between them earlier, he seemed glad to see her now.
With long, determined strides, he crossed the room, delayed only twice by the milling crowd. Then he was at her side. “My dance, I believe.”
When he took her in his arms, Corrie knew not only that he forgave her for upsetting Hugh, but also that he approved of the cream-colored cocktail dress she wore. With a warmth that exceeded what he needed to play the suave hotelier, he pulled her closer, moving in time to the music, leading her through intricate steps with practiced skill.
Corrie rested her head against his shoulder and gave herself over to the rhythm. He was a wonderful dancer, and the way he looked at her made her feel more beautiful, more desirable, than she ever had before. She relished the blissful sensation, even though it frightened her a little.
As the old song said, it was almost like being in love.
The Tavern was crowded, with a noise level that made conversation difficult. After a time, in spite of the smoke filters in the ceiling, both Corrie and Lucas were blinking and sniffling from the presence of several cigarette smokers. As soon as the song ended, Lucas gestured toward the door.
“Air,” he mouthed.
Corrie coughed delicately and nodded.
“Sorry about the cigarettes,” he said as they used the back stairs to reach the second-floor ballroom, where another well-attended party was in progress.
“The smoke was bothering you too,” she pointed out. “Why don’t you ban them entirely?”
“I wish I could, but it would be a bad business decision. Smokers have rights. Or so they tell me. The best compromise so far is to keep all but one of the lounges smoke-free.”
He swirled her into his arms again as they entered the ballroom. The group at this party was older and a bit more staid, but the waltz suited Corrie’s mood. She remembered her first impression of Lucas as some sort of misanthropic English nobleman with dark secrets and smiled to herself. Tonight the image of a Regency rake seemed equally appropriate.
Curious, she turned her face toward his neck and sniffed.
“What?” he murmured.
“No bay rum,” she whispered back. His start of surprise made her chuckle.
“If I’d realized you were so fond of it—”
“Just an observation, not a preference,” she assured him. In fact, the woodsy scent he had on was perfect for him.
He was a man full of contradictions, she thought, equally at home at a formal affair and in a cabin surrounded by snow and trees.
The waltz ended far too soon, but Corrie let him go with good grace. She knew he had duties to perform as host. It pleased her that he chose to remain by her side as much as he could, and she tried not to resent those duty dances he bestowed on other women.
They wouldn’t be with him after the dance, she told herself.
Then she stopped and wondered. Would she? Lucas hadn’t said a word about how their evening was to end.
She didn’t have much time to worry. Other men danced with her while Lucas circulated, and he came back to her time and time again. Swirling in his arms, she relaxed, letting herself enjoy the evening.
At ten minutes before midnight, he spirited her away from the crowd, giving her only time enough to collect her evening bag while he stopped for two glasses of champagne. Once more they used the narrow back stairs, but this time their destination was the Fireside Room. Lucas closed the door behind them to ensure privacy.
After the noise and crowding in the Tavern and the more subtle gaiety of the ballroom, it was almost too quiet in the deeply carpeted room. A fire burned fitfully in the hearth, providing the only illumination other than the Christmas tree, which had been lit for one last night, and a single table lamp. Lucas handed Corrie both glasses and switched off the light, leaving them in romantic, multicolored shadows, before he went to stir the embers.
“Back where it all began,” she murmured as she watched the fabric shift and tighten over the backs of his thighs when he bent, then straightened again.
She didn’t think Lucas heard her, but he had to be thinking the same thing. Only a week ago, she’d stood there and watched him. And he’d watched her.
Returning to her side, he took one glass and toasted her with the champagne. “To a new year,” he said. “To new beginnings.”
She clinked her glass lightly against his, wondering what exactly he had in mind. If the smoldering look in his eyes was anything to go by, he had very specific plans for the two of them.
Suddenly nervous, she was awkward when he slipped his arm through hers so they could sip from each other’s glasses, but at least they managed not to spill any.
“Hard to believe we met just a week ago in this very room,” he said, echoing her earlier thoughts.
“A lot has certainly happened since then.”
She was thinking about the two of them, but she made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder . . . directly at Adrienne’s portrait. She jerked her gaze away, remembering the resolution she’d made earlier in the evening. She’d promised herself she would not dwell on anything unpleasant that night and for some reason Adrienne seemed to fall into that category.
“I was a fool to try to resist you,” Lucas said.
“Christmas Eve was a wonderful night all the same, she assured him, “and I thought you sang beautifully.”
He chuckled and took that as a hint. Catching her hand, he drew her after him to the piano. “Sit,” he ordered, tugging until she was beside him on the bench. Then he set aside his champagne glass and picked out the first notes of “Some Enchanted Evening.”
“Sing with me,” he invited.
“I wish I could. My voice is hopeless.”
“It sounds sweet to my ears.”
She smacked him on the arm. “Don’t overdo the flattery, Sinclair. I’ll think you’re just playing perfect host again.”
In the firelight, she saw his face go abruptly serious. “All right,” he agreed. “No games, Corrie. No humoring you. And no preconceived notions about where we’re headed. I don’t have any idea, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment.”
Her glass joined his on the end table next to the piano. In the distance she could hear the whistles and shouts of revelers as the new year arrived, but Corrie’s focus was entirely fixed on Lucas Sinclair as he gathered her into his arms. He held her as carefully as if she were a statue made of spun glass.
“Happy New Year, Corrie.”
“Happy New Year, Lucas.”
His kiss started out gentle and heated slowly. Corrie responded to it with every fiber of her being, flowing against him as her arms crept around his neck, her fingers tunneling into his thick dark hair.
With the gentlest of touches of his mouth, he urged her lips apart, sipping at her with a quiet intensity more demanding than a rough kiss. She let her eyes drift closed, the better to savor both his response and her own.
For endless moments they clung together, absorbing from each other the essence of tender caring. It seemed to Corrie she’d been waiting her whole life to be held this way.
Before long, she was unable to resist looking at him again. She opened her eyes to the sight of pure passion in the mobile features of his face. She felt her own eyelashes flutter as she realized he was watching her every bit as intently, looking for some sign from her. When he recognized it, his eyes darkened to deepest amber. His pupils grew huge with arousal. A shiver of desire shuddered through Corrie at the sight.
The yearning, the longing, was mutual.
Her fingers stroked again through his softly waving hair. His hands dropped to her waist, then slid lower, tugging her tight against him on the narrow piano bench.
Lost in the sensuality of the moment, Corrie clung to him, her senses reeling. Her eyes were still open as his lips moved along her jawline and dipped down to the exposed flesh of her neck.
And then, over his shoulder, she noticed the portrait again. Stiffening, she tried to pull away. “It’s too public here,” she whispered.
His head snapped up, a dazed look on his face. After a moment he managed a weak smile. “You make me forget everything but you.”
“I’m flattered,” she said, teasing him. “For a minute there, I don’t believe you even knew we were still at the hotel.”
His expression was rueful, his voice gruff. “You’re right. You have a powerful effect on me, Corrie Ballantyne.”
Then he sighed. “I have one or two things to see to before I’m through for the night.”
“I understand.” But she knew her disappointment must be evident in her voice.
“May I come to your room later, when I’m free?”
Still held close to him, breathing his fresh scent, one hand touching the silky softness of his hair and the other resting against the fine fabric of his shirt, Corrie kept her eyes away from the fireplace, but she didn’t have to see Adrienne’s portrait to be reminded of the terrible truth. There was nowhere in this hotel where she wouldn’t feel a ghostly presence.
The idea of an invisible witness to all they did was not conducive to making love with Lucas.
“I’m not sure coming to my room is such a good idea,” she murmured.
Very carefully, he set her away from him. An acute awkwardness settled between them, almost palpable in the quiet, dimly lit room.
Lucas hesitated, then said, “We can just go back to the party if you like.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant,” she whispered.
Being with Lucas had definite appeal, but only if she felt she could trust her own judgment. As far as she had been able to observe, Adrienne only knew, and could only show Corrie, and could only control things that happened in the hotel or within sight of its windows. If they were somewhere else, then anything that happened between herself and Lucas would be because
Corrie
wanted it.
She was appalled by the brazenness of what she meant to suggest, but she could not face the thought of ending her relationship with Lucas without ever knowing the sweetness of making love with him.
This was crazy. She knew that. Their timing couldn’t have been worse. But there was something good between them, something that deserved a chance to grow.
Her vacation was almost over, she reminded herself. It would be better not to start anything.
But it was already started.
And it didn’t have to end just because there was going to be some geographical distance between them. She was enough of a realist to know that long-distance romances rarely worked, but this was Lucas. She had to try.
“Could we go to your cabin instead?” she asked.
* * * *
Everything he wanted was his for the taking, but Lucas paused to enjoy a slow, appreciative perusal of the woman he held in his arms. They were in his bed, flesh to flesh, but this was about more than sex. He’d never felt such a sense of rightness in these moments prior to making love.
“Elegant,” he murmured.
She started to protest.
With just his fingertips he traced the curve of her eyebrows. His other hand caressed her silken shoulder.
“You have no idea, have you, of how perfect you are?”
Rather than let her reply, he sealed her lips with a kiss of devastating thoroughness. They were both breathless when they came up for air . . . and pressed as close together as two people could be without actually being joined.
“You seem pretty perfect to me, too, just now.” Her eyes dark with passion, she gazed up at him.
There was a rightness about the two of them, he thought. Here. Together. Lucas made no attempt to analyze the feeling. He simply accepted it. This was meant to be. He and Corrie were destined to find each other, to revel in their mutual discovery of joy. Of love.
From that point on, he made love to her in reverent silence, letting his body speak for him. With infinite slowness, prolonging the pleasure, he touched and stroked, delved and sipped.
Corrie answered his tender caresses with her own, exploring him as he learned her secrets. Together they built toward the moment when need overcame control. He barely had the presence of mind to fumble for protection before they were swept as one into a soul-shattering, mind-bending race to completion.
It was magnificent.
And it was over far too soon.
* * * *
Utter contentment filled Corrie’s heart as she woke with her head nestled against Lucas’s chest. She was still savoring the afterglow of the most memorable lovemaking she’d ever experienced.
Momentarily sated, she had no interest in Monday-morning quarterbacking. They’d taken this step in their relationship with their eyes open, and it had been the right thing to do. She had no idea what would happen next, and at that precise moment, she couldn’t find energy enough to care.
She could, however, find sufficient strength to respond when Lucas awoke and kissed the healing gash on her forehead.
Such a little thing, an act of caring, of kindness, yet it triggered so much more. They were lying too close together for her to miss his reaction.
Just as quickly, she wanted him again too.
A giggle escaped her. “Insatiable,” she whispered.
“Am I alone in that?”
“Not a chance.”
This time she took the lead, showing him just how much she shared his desire, his need. Touching him was pure pleasure. Easing herself slowly along his body until she straddled him, kissing every available surface in her path, she brought them together in a fiery consummation every bit as satisfying as their first encounter.
* * * *
One arm lay on the pillow, extended so that she could see her watch without moving. It was past noon. Corrie lay perfectly still for several minutes more, reconstructing the events of the early-morning hours. She could hear Lucas moving about in the kitchen below.