All I Want Is You (15 page)

What could I do?

I knew he was mocking me. I knew he must despise me. I should have pushed him away, I should have fled. It was so simple. Except that dancing with this man was sublime, for he was calm and in control, yet I couldn’t help but be conscious of the restrained power of him, of the strength of his thighs brushing against mine. He was still singing softly and I sang with him, I couldn’t help it.

Jazz baby, I love the things you do to me,

Jazz baby, you drive me wild…

His hand lingered at my hip and I shivered as his thumb brushed a rhythmic pattern over my sensitised skin, until I felt a piercing hunger for something I’d never had, never been able to imagine even. Inside, my heart was breaking.

I stopped suddenly. ‘Cantharides. What is it?’

He was still holding me, but his body had tensed. ‘Do you really not know?’

‘How could I?’ There was pain in my voice, I remember. He looked down at me gravely and ran his thumb over my lips. I shivered badly.

‘It’s an erotic stimulant,’ he said at last. ‘Popular with women like Lady Beatrice. Spanish Fly is its other name. Were you truly not aware that she’d put some in your drink?’

‘No,’ I whispered. ‘No.’

I wanted to add,
I don’t need it, with you.
I think I realised then that all I’d ever wanted was to be with him, like the song said. Despair overwhelmed me.

He stroked my hair. He pressed my cheek against his crisp white shirt. He was still humming softly under his breath as we moved; his voice was divine, it tore at my ragged senses. Then he was tipping up my chin with his fingers to brush my lips with his, while his other hand slipped beneath my satin brassiere to skim the warm skin as he traced a path to my nipple. He deliberately fingered the tender tip until it hardened to his touch, sending shafts of liquid need to my belly.

My body started shaking again.

He frowned, holding me close, pressing his cool forehead to mine. He was muttering, ‘
Oh, Sophie
…’

Being so near to him tipped me over the edge. His fingers still stroked and tugged at my nipple so skilfully; his strong thigh was pressing against me just at the juncture of my legs, where I was wet and burning. Gasping, I ground myself helplessly against him, while thrusting my breast harder against his fingers. I shuddered as my climax shook me.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered at last. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘My God, Sophie,’ he said.

I clung to him, shaking as tremors of exquisite pleasure washed through me. My cheek was still pressed to his white shirt, my eyes were closed in shame.

‘You really
are
an innocent, aren’t you?’ His voice was quiet but urgent. ‘Damn Beatrice and her tricks.’

‘You don’t like me. I thought you might not. I told her so.’

‘Don’t like you,’ he echoed. ‘Don’t like you… Sophie, why the hell did you
do
this?’

‘I… it was part of a plan.’

‘Tell me about it.’

By now my voice was raw with torment. ‘I wanted to dance,’ I breathed, ‘I wanted to be on stage, and dance and sing.’

I’d thought I wanted freedom. Independence. But now my world had changed completely. All I wanted was him – and he despised me.

He was silent for a while, rubbing his temple. Then – ‘Sing for me,’ he said. ‘Sing.’ His harsh voice lashed me, sensitive and aroused as I was. I half closed my eyes, took a deep breath and sang. I didn’t smile or lick my lips or do the silly things I knew whores did, I just clasped my hands in front of me and sang. To him.

‘
My man with the blue sad eyes,

I want to make you smile.

But what does it take for you to realise

I’ve given you my heart, for such a long while?

Oh, yes, it’s true. All I want is you
…’

I could only whisper the last words. I put my hands to my cheeks and the tears burned at the back of my eyes.
All I want. All I want…
‘Please don’t leave me this time,’ I said. ‘Please.’

He moved suddenly. He held me. He kissed me hard on my lips.

I wasn’t prepared. My knees gave way; I was battling fresh floods of sensation. He swung me up so easily and carried me into the adjoining bedroom, where he laid me on the big bed, then he flung off his jacket and
gathered me once more in his arms; I could hear his breath rasping in his throat.
Oh.
I was spellbound. I was terrified. I was quivering with excitement.

He kissed my lips again and kissed my breasts, slipping them out of my flimsy brassiere and drawing them into his mouth. His kiss was not like Beatrice’s, it wasn’t like anything I’d ever known. The weight of him, the strength of him, made my body leap with raw hunger.

Then, suddenly, I realised what he was doing.

He was already pinning me to the bed with his body, so my legs were splayed and I was helpless. My underwear had gone already, now he was peeling off one of my stockings – and he was doing it for a reason. He was using it – to tie both my wrists behind me, to the bedrail.
What on earth…?

‘Gently,’ he murmured.

I squirmed, my eyes full of anxious questions; I could see him above me, his face dark and so intent. But as I opened my mouth to speak he kissed me; more than that, he ravished my soft mouth with his tongue, and as he withdrew I found my protests had vanished into thin air.

‘
Jazz baby, you drive me wild,
’he whispered, and smiled.

Then I realised that he was fastening a piece of fabric around my head, covering my eyes, and I didn’t understand. I was frightened.
Tying me? Blindfolding me?
Beatrice had said nothing about all this! ‘No,’ I protested, trying to wriggle free. My heart was thumping in fear. ‘Please. I want to see you.’

‘I can’t let you,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘But… why?’ His tender apology reassured me, but I was still dismayed.

His voice, when it came next, was grave. ‘Sophie. Do you want me to stop?’

I couldn’t bear him to leave me and that was the truth of it. ‘No,’ I breathed. ‘No. Do what you want, but don’t stop. Please.’

‘Are you quite sure?’

As sure as I’ve been of anything in my life
. ‘Yes. Yes, Your Grace—’

‘Don’t call me that. Call me Ash,’ he broke in roughly.

‘
Ash
.’

The blindfold was black. He’d caressed my cheek after he put it on, and I remember how in a strange way not being able to see him heightened all my other senses: for example, I was acutely aware of the pull of the silk stocking at my wrists, the sounds of him unbuttoning his clothes; the male scent of him, his soap and the hint of fresh body sweat, powerful and arousing.

I felt him run his hands – his dreadfully scarred hands – up over my legs towards my naked skin and my pulsing core. I arched my hips, trembling helplessly, longing for him; I remember how my thighs fell shamefully apart, welcoming him.

I felt the pressure of his strong legs as he eased himself over me and between me. God help me, I felt the brush of something hot – like velvet, like steel – quivering against my belly. I realised it was him, and excitement roared through me.

Jazz baby, I love the things you do to me,

Jazz baby, you drive me wild…

He was still humming as he caressed my silken wet folds knowingly with his fingers. I quivered again, pulling at my bonds, and I called out his name.

He thrust his hips, hard. He filled me. There was a moment of shock, a moment of brief pain; I cried out.

He stopped moving. ‘I’m hurting you,’ he said.

I lay very still under his weight, feeling something shatter inside me, feeling heat suddenly consume me at his possession. A bone-deep longing surged through me like a rising tide.

‘If you leave me now,’ I whispered, ‘I think I will die.’

He kissed me. I groaned as he drove his tongue between my lips and deep into my mouth. My breasts throbbed and tingled almost unbearably. Blindly I drew up my legs, longing to feel him, to let him know what
I
felt.

He raised himself on his arms. With a sort of sigh he thrust into me again, then put his lips to one breast and sucked the nipple deep into his mouth.

I remember I burned and ached all at the same time. Torrents of pleasure shot up and down my spine and all across my sensitised skin. I moaned and moved as he moved, pulling at my bonds, lifting my hips and clenching him to me with my inner muscles. I soared; I possessed him; I loved him. He was driving himself into me, deep and hard, and I shattered in his arms.

Molten delight unfurled slowly through my whole body. I shook, I called out his name –
Ash
– as he continued slowly, deeply to ravish me. Only when I was sated, drifting in the rippling after-waves, did he pull out of me, shudder and then lie very still. I remembered
Beatrice saying:
Sometimes they withdraw just before their crisis…

I hardly dared breathe. A few moments later I heard him fastening his clothes, then he unbound my eyes and released my wrists. He kissed the skin where those bonds had been, then wrapped me in the silk kimono. He said, ‘I must call Beatrice in.’

No.
I shrank into his arms. I said, ‘I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to have anything more to do with her, ever.’

He didn’t reply at first but led me to sit on the settee in the other room. Then he stroked my cheek and said, ‘You don’t have to say a word. Let me do the talking.’

He went quickly for her while I sat there with my hands covering my face, still breathing in the scent of his skin, my most secret places still throbbing from his caresses. This must be the end, I thought wretchedly. This
has
to be the end. She would tell him everything that she and I had planned; she’d tell him how I’d agreed to it all.

He came in with Beatrice following. She was fully dressed, and she looked at me with near hatred. She must have known full well what we’d been doing, for my body and my face must have screamed it.

He said to her, ‘Beatrice, I’ve found you amusing in the past. But I don’t like the way you’ve tricked me and used this girl.’ She licked her lips, looking at me then at him. She said huskily, ‘Tricked you, Ash? I thought you’d enjoy her. But if you’d prefer someone with more experience…’

She tried to lift her hand to his shoulder, but he
pushed it away. ‘I don’t want a single damned thing from you, Beatrice. I want you to be very sure of that. I also want to remind you that I’m leaving for London tomorrow. Whether or not you decide to stay here at the Hall is entirely up to you.’

Beatrice looked very pale but she was still trying to be in charge. ‘Thanks, but London will suit me just fine. I’ll come too, and I’ll bring Sophie.’

‘No you won’t,’ he said. ‘Because I’m taking her with me.’

I saw Beatrice’s face, and I knew I’d made an enemy for life.

‘You little cow,’ she said to me softly, heedless now of Ash at her side. ‘You’ve been scheming behind my back, haven’t you?’ I think she made some threatening move towards me, because I jumped to my feet away from her, and the next thing I remember was the sight of Ash – my Mr Maldon – gripping her by the arms and pushing her unceremoniously out through the door.

He locked it. Then he came back to me, his eyes burning into me. ‘I meant what I said, Sophie. I have business in London, and I want you to come with me.’

I didn’t understand. Why, in God’s name, should he want me with him? ‘You and me – it’s not possible. You know it’s not possible.’

He moved closer. He put his arms around me; he held me very close and he said, ‘You promised me devotion in your letters. Didn’t you mean it?’

Oh, more than ever.
‘Yes,’ I breathed. ‘I meant it, every word.’

‘Then come with me. Stay with me.’

He still looked troubled, and so sad I wanted to hold him and comfort him. But instead I stood very still, with a sense of terrible dread starting to permeate my whole being. ‘You told me once,’ I said steadily, ‘that people would judge me by the value I placed on myself.’

He lifted my fingers to his lips, and again I saw the terribly scarred skin of his hand. ‘Believe me, I value you, Sophie.’ His eyes were dark once more, the cornflower blue deepening almost to black. ‘You’ve given me something precious tonight, and I don’t take that lightly.’

‘But you can’t promise me for ever.’ There was something desperate in my voice by then. ‘I
know
you can’t.’

He let my hand fall and rubbed his palm across his temples, looking tired suddenly. ‘No. Of course not. You must realise that.’

Yes, I’d realised it, from the moment I’d seen him in the dining hall and realised who he was. Raw emotion was pouring through me. I loved him, I wanted him, I would have given anything to be with him, on any terms, whatever the price.

But…

‘You couldn’t bear me to look at you,’ I breathed. ‘Or even to touch you. When we were intimate just now, you had to do
that
to me. Tie me up and blindfold me.’

He went very still, then he drew air into his lungs and his face grew harsh – as harsh as when he’d spoken to Beatrice. ‘Those are my terms,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to take them or leave them.’

I shook my head, remembering with terrible bitterness how one of the first things I had been told on becoming a servant was that I was invisible. I’d been
instructed to turn aside and pretend not to be there if any of my superiors should come across me in a corridor. This man wouldn’t even let me look at him when he was making love to me.

I gazed into his fathomless blue eyes. ‘I can’t accept your terms,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry.’

And I felt my heart breaking, all over again.

‘At least stay with me tonight,’ he said. He trailed one finger down my cheek; he lowered his mouth to mine and caressed my lips with light butterfly touches. He must have felt me tremble with need, because only then did he put his arms around me to draw me close and properly fasten his beautiful mouth over mine.

I placed my palms against his chest, feeling beneath his shirt the steady rhythm of his heart. His body was warm; the citrus-masculine scent of him filled my senses. As his kiss deepened, as his tongue cherished my lips, I felt heavy with needing him again. His hands had slid down to my hips and I felt myself swaying gently beneath his warm touch. His mouth moved to my cheek, to the hollow beneath my ear and the curve of my neck.