An Affair To Remember: A Ludlow Hall Christmas (6 page)

Elena sensed the change in him.

He'd stopped stroking her when something like a sob had escaped from his throat.

She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead into his heaving chest, felt the heavy thud of his heart and just breathed through an arousal that was more pain than pleasure. His shaft was pressing, pressing into the soft flesh of her bare belly. God knew her body was ready, more than ready for him.

"What is it?" she whispered.

His hands stroked her back in a soothing rhythmic touch that did anything but soothe.

"I'm having a moment."

Now she rubbed her cheek against the light sprinkling of soft dark hair on the taut skin that covered his pectoral muscles. She smelled him, the scent of a clean aroused man. And Elena knew she'd recognise that scent anywhere, even if blindfold. Her hands continued to explore. Lord, he was built. She loved touching him, loved feeling the way his muscles tightened and then trembled under her searching fingers. She let her hands stroke up his strong back, over wide shoulders, before sliding down, down to massage his tight ass. His groan was neither pain nor pleasure. It was a bit of both.

Since they were taking a breather, Elena took the time to search her feelings and her heart to make sure both were good with what she wanted from him. The truth is always there if a person is open enough and honest enough to ask the right question of themselves at the right time. What did she want from him? And the answer was clear. She wanted it all, everything he could give. To be honest she'd known what she wanted as soon as she'd set eyes on him. As soon as he'd arrived at Ludlow Hall. He was a man who meant business. A genuine man. An honourable man. She wanted him in her life, for good. And if they were lucky, maybe even babies.

The enormity of where her heart was going hit Elena too hard.

Because she knew that in order to receive she needed to give, without strings, without a tie that bound him to her.

Now it was her turn to sob.

And Marc went utterly still under her hands.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Perhaps, Elena decided, they were both going a little bit crazy with the terribly potent sexual chemistry, all the pheromones, that were screwing around with their systems, their thought processes.

"I'm having a moment."

She had to laugh because lust had, in the space of a few minutes, turned into something else. Maybe it would have been better if he had taken her last night, when she was all relaxed and ready and wanting and willing.

Trust her to find a man with ethics and a strong moral compass.

Well, she'd opened up to him last night and he hadn't gone running for the hills.

Might as well tell him the rest of it.

"You're trembling," he said.

"I think we're stuck."

He eased back.

At least his upper body eased back, the rest of him was plastered against her.

His blue eyes were still dark as they studied her breast, as his knuckles stroked her swollen nipple. As if he couldn't help but touch her.

"Stuck?"

His mouth twitched as his tongue explored the inside of his cheek.

Her brows rose.

She was glad someone was finding it funny.

"I think maybe we want this too much. And it's a bit overwhelming."

He blinked.

"You're feeling overwhelmed?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

He dipped his head to rub his beard over her cheek.

"Baby," whispered in her ear, his voice harsh as he held her too tight. "I'm fucking terrified."

It wasn't so much the words, although they were definitely powerful. It was the tone. A tone filled with an agony that she could get behind since she felt it herself. And right there, Elena knew that someone needed to take the lead, so it might as well be her.

After all, what did she have to lose?

Plenty.

"You're trembling again," he muttered in her ear as he just stood there and hung onto her.

Now she was the one to ease back, to hold his face between her hands, to look deep into those blue eyes.

"I think I've fallen madly in love with you. I've never said those words to a man before. Except to my dad and my brothers. But they don't count at the moment. I love you and I'm really scared. Because if this goes to hell, then I don't know if I'll ever recover."

She wanted to ask him if there was a chance he might love her, too.

But that wasn't what love was all about.

It wasn't about I love you so you'd better love me back.

He shook his head.

And just like that her heart dropped to land with a sickening thud at her feet.

And she shut her eyes tight because she didn't want to hear it.

Then his mouth was on hers, coaxing her to open. With a sob in her throat and a heart that felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces, she gave him everything.

He was breathing heavily by the time he lifted his head to stare into her swimming eyes.

"You humble me. I've seen bravery in Iraq, in Afghanistan. I've seen men and women risk their own life for others. But you, you are the bravest person I know. And I'm falling madly in love with you, too. I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin, but I love you so much it hurts. It hurts me, Elena."

And then she was scooped up in his arms, as if her weight didn't matter. Which was nothing more than an illusion because Elena knew she wasn't a light weight. She threw her arms around his neck as he stumbled up the narrow stairs.

"Jeez, these stairs are going to kill me," he muttered against her hungry mouth.

By the time he staggered into her bedroom and dumped her on her bed, she was laughing her head off. She leaned on her elbows and raised her brows as she watched him fist himself and stroke his length.

"What happened to being bent over the arm of the sofa and being taken hard and fast?"

His smile split his face in a way that she'd never seen before.

He was happy.

And her heart soared.

"I thought we might start with the basics first. I want to see your eyes when I make you mine, when you come."

In spite of having central heating, the room had a chill to it, plus they were naked. Now Elena pulled back the comforter and welcomed him in.

They lay on their sides under the comforter, all warm and snug and facing each other, not speaking, just staring into each other's eyes.

"Why do you keep stroking yourself? Shouldn't that be my job?" she said.

His smile made her tummy flip.

"I'm trying to calm the beast. It's been a while for me."

"Don't you want to take the edge off?"

"I'm a gentleman. The lady should come first."

She grinned and moved in closer, her mouth within kissing distance of his.

Placing little nips of her teeth and little licks of her tongue on his mouth, her hand slid down to cover his and then lower to cradle his balls. The groan that escaped from his throat coincided with his full body shudder.

In a flash she was under him, long legs wrapped around his hips, her arms holding him close. Her hand thrust through his hair, her nails scratching his scalp as the steel of his shaft slid up and down her wet, slick heat, teasing her until she sighed.

"I want to taste you." Was all the warning she received as he took a long, lingering journey down her torso, taking his own sweet time to torment and torture her nipples. Then he loitered at her belly button, using his tongue to taste and tease. His nose nuzzled the tender skin between hip and thigh as strong hands slid under her bottom, lifted her core to his mouth.

She waited and waited for him to touch her... there.

By the time he'd kissed and licked and tasted everywhere but... there, she was crying his name. Then the lips of her sex were spread and he used the flat of his tongue to lick again and again. He used his tongue as a weapon of pleasure, spearing it inside her. But when he sucked the swollen bead of her clitoris, gently used his teeth, she flew apart.

And it wasn't the end because now two fingers entered her, stretching her wide as he searched to find the spot he was looking for and used those fingers ruthlessly to bring her screaming to peak yet again. Then she was hauled to the edge of the bed, her legs over his shoulders as he grabbed her hips and took her, made her his, with one hard thrust. Her shocked inhale didn't stop him as his hips pistoned hard and fast, as her breasts bounced with each impalement. She was on her back with nothing to hold onto. So she held on tight to the sheets, fisting her hands as he went faster and faster. The friction was something she'd never experienced before as her body climbed higher and higher. But it was the expression on his face that held her captive, she couldn't look away. His eyes were dark and burned into hers as his brow creased as his white teeth were bared with something that looked more like pain than pleasure. And she knew he was battling to hold on until she flew, but she couldn't quite get there. One hand released her to slide between her legs as his thumb moved to the spot where his body joined hers and he found that swollen button and worked it as hard as he was working her. When her back and her neck arched that was when he let go. He fell upon her, held her close and cried her name as his seed shot into her again and again.

Marc just had to close his eyes and try to breathe through what her body was doing to his. Still her core gripped his dick, squeezing and milking him dry. His lungs were heaving as he made a pitiful attempt to suck air. Their hearts were racing and they were covered in healthy sweat and still her body refused to release him.

"Don't move," he begged.

Her soft laugh actually vibrated right through his dick, he'd never felt anything like it in his life.

"Don't laugh either or you'll kill me."

Her response was a slow slide of her hand from his shoulder to his ass and back again. He reckoned it was supposed to be a soothing motion. To his dick it was anything but and when her hand lingered on his ass and squeezed and then ran her nails over it, his body twitched in appreciation. Like a contented kitten, she purred deep in her throat and he had to clench his teeth.

"If you say one word," he warned.

"I'm not the one doing all the talking," she whispered.

"I think you've broken the beast."

Now she did laugh and laughed harder when he swore and slid out of her.

The following Monday afternoon Marc sat in a plush leather chair opposite Nico Ferranti in Nico's office at his home, The Dower House, rather than Nico's office in Ludlow Hall.

"I am thinking we should remove the bugs. It is impossible to get any work done," Nico said.

Nico was an impressive looking man, tall, lean and dark as befitted his Italian heritage. Marc was used to seeing Nico looking immaculate in hand-crafted suits from Savile Row. He rarely saw him dressed as he was today, in jeans tucked into boots and a cashmere sweater.

"We still don't know who the mole is," Marc reminded him.

"
Si
, I know this, but I try to keep my home and professional life separate."

Family time was important to Nico, Marc understood that, admired it even.

"We've managed to narrow down the list of suspects to two. One from the reception staff and one from housekeeping."

Now Nico leaned across the desk, his grey eyes sharp.

"Who?"

Marc had been expecting this reaction.

"I don't want to say until we have facts and proof. It's crucial that there is no change in your habits or demeanour towards the staff when you're working. The last thing we want to do is to scare him or her off. Just give us another few days. We've placed hidden cameras in your office, in reception's back office and in housekeeping."

Nico scratched his chin and didn't look happy.

"It is a great pity we cannot think of a way to flush them out."

Marc ran his tongue inside his cheek and Nico spotted the tic.

"Have you thought of something?"

Actually, he had.

But it was very risky and might cause more trouble than it was worth.

He also needed to come clean about a personal matter.

"I'm seeing Elena Kennedy, in a personal capacity."

Nico blinked.

"She is a lovely girl. Is it serious?"

"Yep."

Now Nico grinned, wiggled his dark brows.

"How serious?"

Marc didn't flinch from telling him the truth.

Nico Ferranti was not only his employer, he was also his very good friend.

"Marriage, babies, the whole happy ever after."

Marc rose as Nico got to his feet, strolled around the desk to envelope him in a Nico Ferranti speciality, the man hug. He was kissed once on each cheek, hugged tight and given a back slap that would fell a bull elephant.

"
Congratulazioni
! I am happy, happy, for you and Elena. She comes from a large
famiglia
of good men.
Un momento
!" Nico strode to the door, opened it and yelled, "Bronte,
bella
!"

"What's up, babe?" came the response from the vast family kitchen, living room

"Bring champagne and three glasses. We have a
celebrazioni
!"

"Oooooooh! Coming right up."

Nico rubbed his hands as he strolled back to sit behind his desk, his handsome face split with a wide grin, his grey eyes dancing with delight. His friend's sincere pleasure in Marc's personal happiness was a gift that he never took for granted.

Bronte Ferranti entered carrying a bottle of the very best champagne wrapped in a folded white napkin and three champagne glasses. She kissed her husband on the mouth, handed him the champagne, placed the glasses on the desk and turned to Marc.

"Hey, Marc."

She held out her arms and Marc was only too delighted to give her a hug.

Bronte was willow slim and as tall as Elena.

But where Elena was dark, Bronte was light.

She was a natural ash blonde with wide emerald eyes, creamy skin, high cheekbones and a full mouth. The only jewellery she wore was a slim wedding band of white gold set with tiny diamonds. The Ferranti's did not flash the cash. Today she wore black skinny jeans, a pale grey polo neck sweater of fine cashmere and her shining head of hair was tied back in a complicated plait. Bronte Ferranti was drop dead gorgeous. And she had a heart of solid gold, something else she shared with Elena.

Nico popped the cork.

"Hey, yourself," Marc said. "I hope we haven't put you out. Where are the kids?"

Bronte shook her head, patted his cheek and accepted a glass from her husband before settling herself into the chair next to Marc and crossed endless legs.

"The twins are attending a birthday party and nanny's bathing Eve. Anyway, you could never put me out." Bronte grinned at the two men. "Okay, don't keep me in suspense, guys. What are we celebrating?"

"Marc is in love."

Bronte's eyes grew as wide as her smile as she turned to Marc.

"Really?" she asked, rolling the 'r' in a way that made him look to heaven. "Who is she? Anyone we know?"

"Elena Kennedy," Marc said before Nico could beat him to it.

If anything Bronte's smile went even wider.

"I adore Elena. She's full of fun. I'm so pleased for both of you. When did this happen?"

"Friday night. Although I've had my eye on her for a while."

"You must bring her to dinner," Nico said. "We will make a plan."

"How are you settling in?" Bronte wanted to know, referring to the A frame cottage he'd been given. The place was stunning. And with five bedrooms was probably too big for one man. But that was Nico Ferranti for you, generous to a fault.

"Love it," he said, sincerely.

"I've been thinking," Bronte said. "Why don't you bring your mother and Nina up to stay with you over the holiday season? And beyond if you want to. I know that the first Christmas after I lost my parents was incredibly hard. Maybe the change of scene is just what your mother needs."

Actually Marc had been thinking of doing just that. His adopted parents had been married for over forty years. It was only natural that Mary Jones was struggling to come to terms with her loss. However, Nina was worried that her mother was sinking into depression. Losing a loved one was a time when family pulled together. Closing the large house in Devon wouldn't be a problem either.

"Do you need a bigger cottage?" Nico wanted to know.

Marc didn't think so, but Bronte jumped in.

"What about Heron's Rest? It's fully completed and tested and looking amazing." She turned to Marc. "It would be perfect because it's a double A frame with a single story kitchen living space with covered deck linking the two frames. It would mean Nina and Mary would have their own private living space and you would have yours."

Marc shook his head.

"It has eight bedrooms."

But Bronte was not to be deterred.

"Yes, but you'll need office space to do your spook stuff. Nina needs a place to study, too. And it's the perfect place for a Christmas party. Don't forget Elena has a large family. It's perfect!"

Marc felt as if he was being run over by a gentle steamroller. He looked helplessly at Nico for assistance, but his friend was grinning from ear to ear.

"
Si
, it is sorted."

The sound of a child's wail from upstairs had Bronte springing to her feet.

"Time for a feed before bed. No, please don't get up," she said, when Marc went to rise. "Tell Elena I'll be in touch. See you later." And she was gone.

Nico couldn't stop grinning at Marc's shell-shocked face.

"She is weaning Eve, the
bambino
still needs to be close to her
mama
."

"You have a beautiful family, Nico."

Now the big Italian's grey eyes went soft.

"
Si
, we are lucky men. People like us, people who have known hunger, pain. It is not often we are given a chance to have a life like this.
Evviva
, Marc. You have done well with your life, for your sister and now for your
mama
. I am proud to be your friend."

And that was Nico Ferranti all over.

The Italian wore his heart on his sleeve and could make a grown man weep.

As Nico topped up their glasses, Marc sat forward, prepared to lay out his idea to catch a betrayer in the act.

"So, about the mole," he said, and sat back to enjoy his wine. "I have a plan."