The Forbidden Innocent (12 page)

‘And you had no experience. None whatsoever. While I had plenty. Enough to know when to stop it. I should have taken control,’ he said. ‘I should have ended it while I still could.’

He’s making excuses,
Ashley realised—and she had to let him go if that was what he wanted. She mustn’t chain him to her side because of a sense of guilt, or responsibility. ‘It can end right now and right here. If you want it to.’

He stared down into her face for a long moment and then he laughed.

‘Damn you, Ashley Jones,’ he said softly as he pulled her back into his arms. ‘Damn you for your soft understanding and your perception. Don’t you know that by offering me freedom, you have guaranteed my willing capture?’

‘That wasn’t my intention.’

‘You think I don’t realise that? That you are totally without guile?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I could put it down to your youth and inexperience—but it goes much
deeper than that.’ He stared deep into her eyes and lowered his voice to a murmur. ‘You just have these instincts which make you remarkable and which make me hunger for you. I want you, Ashley, and I want you now.’

He pulled her against him and once more he began to make love to her—kissing her long and deep until she was more than ready for him once more. But his tenderness seemed to have been replaced by something else. She thought she sensed anger as he moved deep inside her—or could it have been
despair?
Afterwards, she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes again the light had almost disappeared from the sky outside.

She blinked as she realised how late it must be. ‘I really
am
going to have to do some work now, Jack.’

‘You don’t need my permission to get out of bed.’

‘Well, I did last time I tried. Remember?’

Reluctantly, he laughed. ‘So you did,’ he murmured. ‘Well, then, you’d better run along, before the memory of how you’ve just been wrapping those delectable thighs around my back makes me drag you back into my arms again.’

‘Jack!’

‘Don’t you know I love it when you blush like that?’

‘I am
definitely
getting up!’

‘Go on, then. I’m not stopping you.’

He lay back against the bank of pillows as she rose from the rumpled sheets. She looked like a modern-day Venus, he thought contentedly—all tousled and rosy.

‘Stop staring at me,’ she whispered.

‘But I like staring at you.’

For a moment, Ashley felt self-conscious as she made her way over his priceless silk rugs—wondering if he was judging her appearance. Wasn’t that the kind of thing which all men did? Assessed naked bottoms and thighs on a scale of one to ten and decided whether or not they were wobbly? Scooping up her clothes, she carried them into his bathroom, where the image reflected back from the mirror stopped her in her tracks and she stared at it in disbelief.

Could that
really
be her? Mousey and unassuming Ashley Jones, her hair all loose and streaming down over her bare shoulders and her body all flushed and naked? Her fingers crept up to her mouth, which had been kissed so thoroughly by Jack that her lips were now the colour of crushed berries.

She washed and dressed, but when she walked back into the bedroom it was to discover that Jack had gone and the bed was empty. For a moment she just stood there, wondering if she had dreamt the whole thing—until the soft aching at the very core of her body reminded her that it had been very real.

So now what did she do? Go looking for him or just slide behind her desk and carry on working as if nothing had happened?

Walking over to the window, she stared at the darkening garden and then up at the sky, where the faint pinpricks of stars were beginning to sprinkle the skies. Was this how it was going to be from now on—her
life inhibited by what had just happened? Not daring to express herself for fear of how it might be interpreted by her boss? No. She had to behave normally—if she could only remember how.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door opening behind her—nor realise that anyone had entered the room until she heard the sound of something heavy being put down and then the soft whisper of lips at the back of her neck.

Turning around, she found Jack standing there—his rugged features flushed and his eyes gleaming dark.

‘I wondered where you’d gone,’ she whispered—wondering whatever had happened to all her good intentions about carrying on as normal. Did ‘normal’ include running her fingertips through the thick raven hair with a sense almost of wonder? Or leaning forward to inhale that raw masculine scent of soap and sandalwood which was all his—and dancing her lips in front of his.

‘And did you miss me?’ he murmured.

Once before he had asked her that same question and back then she had fudged the answer in order to protect herself from her growing feelings for him. But now—surely—there was no need to erect barriers, not when he had torn them down with the heady power of his love-making. Her finger brushed against his lips.

‘Yes, I missed you. I missed you a lot,’ she said. ‘Where did you go?’

‘I was getting us a drink.’

Looking over his shoulder, she could see a tray with
champagne and glasses sitting on a table. ‘Champagne?’ she questioned, on a note of surprise.

‘I feel like champagne, don’t you?’ He walked over to the table and eased the cork from the bottle with a loud pop, before pouring two fizzing glassfuls and handing her one. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’ Ashley took the glass and gave it a wistful smile. ‘I’ve never drunk champagne in a man’s bedroom before.’

‘Then your education is only just beginning, Miss Jones,’ came his mocking reply. ‘But before we go any further—I think we’d better get something straight between us.’ His voice was suddenly serious as his eyes captured hers. ‘Nobody must find out about this, Ashley. Not Christine—not anybody. Do you understand? This is between you and me—nobody else.’

Ashley’s smile didn’t falter—though inside her heart was racing. Did that mean he was ashamed of her? Ashamed of his own weakness in having chosen her as his lover—rather than someone like Nicole who would have been a million times more suitable? But maybe he’d chosen his secretary because he could guarantee her obedience. Her willingness to please. And her reluctance to ask him why. Did he realise that her own insecurities meant that she wouldn’t do anything which might threaten this precious bubble of happiness which was enveloping her?

‘Of course I do,’ she said.

‘Good.’

But the champagne tasted sour on her lips and
did nothing to dull the urgent questions in her mind. Wouldn’t any other woman who valued herself have objected to his desire for secrecy?

And didn’t secrecy imply that there was something
wrong
about what they were doing?

‘S
O
WHATwould you like to do this afternoon, my little green-eyed minx?’

Lying tangled amid the rumpled sheets, Ashley registered the lazy approbation of Jack’s smoky-eyed gaze as he stroked a lazy finger from collar-bone to breast. Was this how every woman felt when she was in bed with a man she had grown to love? As if she were ten feet tall and could climb mountains without getting out of breath? Luxuriously, she stirred. ‘How about something beginning with “S”?’

His hand continued its erotic journey. ‘Not more sex?’ he questioned with a mocking smile. ‘Are you completely insatiable?’

‘Why?’ Ashley’s eyes widened. How quickly she had learnt to play the bedroom games of flirtation. Just as she had learned all the other things her experienced lover had taught her. ‘Don’t you like me being insatiable?’

He circled a still-puckered nipple. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. You are the most assiduous.’ his mouth
now drifted to the rosy tip itself and he felt another great tug of desire ‘… pupil—that any man could wish for.’

‘Am I?’

‘Mmm.’

Ashley gave a sigh of pleasure as his lips worked their particular magic. And he was the most perfect teacher that any woman could ask for. He had taught her that sex could be many things: it could be urgent, lazy or infinitely tender. Jack Marchant wasn’t so much her dream man—he exceeded every fantasy she’d ever had. She’d never thought she’d find herself initiated into the art of love-making by someone who was so uniquely passionate and intense. Who could make her want him the moment he looked at her. She’d never imagined that she would be the lover of a fabulously wealthy man and spend nights in his vast bed while the harsh wind from the moor keened outside the window.

It was a relationship which had made her blossom in every way—and hadn’t she dared believe that their liaison had benefitted
him,
too? Because hadn’t his haunted dreams of the past stopped happening? No more did he pace the corridors at night, locked in his own inner turmoil—instead he slept soundly, wrapped contentedly in her arms. And hadn’t her own self-esteem grown as a result of that?

Tangling her fingers in the ruffled raven of his hair as she had longed to do countless times when she’d sat quietly working opposite him in his office, she snuggled closer. ‘I was thinking we should get some fresh air, Jack,’ she reflected. ‘We should get up and go for a walk.
Just because it’s winter doesn’t mean we shouldn’t make the most of the daylight—and we can’t stay in bed all day.’

‘Can’t we? Can you give me one good reason why not?’

‘Because sooner or later we need to eat something.’

‘I’d like to eat
you.’
Jack buried his face in her neck, inhaling her wholesome soap-and-water scent and marvelling how everything with her seemed so
easy.
She wasn’t constantly invading his space. Wanting to invade his mind, to know what he was thinking—and, more pertinently, to know what he was thinking about
her.
Against the softness of her firm skin, his eyes briefly closed. And shouldn’t he thank whatever lucky stars he had that she didn’t pry and question him? Because if she did.

Grimly, he blocked his thoughts and tightened his grip around her waist. He thought about the nightmares which had plagued him for so long that he hadn’t been able to imagine life without them—and which had now gone. They’d been vanquished by the untroubled sleep he found with her. If he could put a price on the peace of mind he found in Ashley’s arms, then wouldn’t he happily forgo every penny of his vast fortune? ‘So what would you
really
like to do today?’

For a moment, Ashley said nothing. Her face was buried in the warmth of his skin and so any wistfulness in her expression was shielded from him. He had just asked the million-dollar question and self-preservation meant that she was unable to answer it honestly. What
she’d like most of all would be to be open about her relationship with Jack. Not to have to hide it away as if it was some kind of guilty secret and pretend it simply wasn’t happening.

At times, it felt crazy—this subterfuge he had insisted on. Like when Christine was around and Ashley was terrified that a stray word or gesture might alert the housekeeper to the fact that she had become so much more than a secretary to her boss. And Jack didn’t want that. Most definitely he didn’t. He’d told her that from day one and nothing which had happened since had indicated that he’d changed his mind.

Ashley tried to tell herself that his wishes were understandable. Christine had worked for Jack and his family for many years. There were gardeners and cleaners employed at Blackwood, too—and it might reflect badly on
him
if he was seen as having ‘seduced’ his secretary. And it could be professional death for her.

So she forced herself to be pragmatic—to accept that the relationship might not last beyond the termination of her contract. Resolutely, she pushed all her worries to the back of her mind. She would enjoy what they had now—and not taint it with unrealistic yearnings. Instead, she tried to put a positive spin on it. It was
their
secret—something wonderful which was shared only by them and which the rest of the world couldn’t intrude on.

She pressed her lips against the lobe of his ear. ‘If you really want to know… I’d like to go for a long walk and then I’d like to have a bath—’

‘Together?’

‘If you think the bath is big enough, Jack.’

‘I think we may have to cling very closely together. Or double up. You might
just
have to climb on top.’

‘Oh, I think I could just about bear that.’

He laughed. ‘And then?’

‘Then I’d like to watch some soppy film and eat popcorn—and before you say that you don’t like soppy films, I know that already. But you did ask me what I’d really like to do, Jack—and now I’ve told you.’

He was thoughtful for a moment and then he nodded his head. ‘Okay.’

Surprised, she turned her face up to him. ‘Just like that?’

‘Why not?’

‘If I’d known you were going to be so amenable, I’d have asked for more.’

He stilled—and thought in that moment that he’d have given her the world if it had been within his power to do so.
But it isn’t, is it? You know it isn’t.
‘And what else would you have asked for, Ashley?’ he questioned softly.

She felt the race of her pulse. His love? His heart? ‘Oh, a bar of chocolate as well!’

He smiled as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans. ‘It’s yours.’

Outside, the day was bitter and as they walked beneath a pewter sky Ashley thought that the moors had never looked more wild or more brooding. And neither had Jack, she realised as she stood beside him, the wind
whipping his raven hair and emphasising the heightened colour of his high cheekbones. What went through that keen mind of his when he stared so fiercely at the stark horizon? she wondered. And was that occasional glimpse of savage pain she sometimes surprised on his face provoked by memories of army life?

The bath which followed their walk was as protracted as she’d hoped. She giggled as he soaped every inch of her body and then washed her hair with slow fascination, and afterwards Jack left her drying her hair while he drove into the village to hire a DVD. Ashley heard his car pulling away and thought how weirdly
normal
this all felt. And how perfect.