An Unexpected Song (6 page)

“Can I help?”

She shook her head. “Tell me, is his portrait of me any good?”

Jason hesitated. “I’m no art critic.”

Daisy sighed. “It’s not good.”

“I didn’t say that. I don’t know about the technical side, but it’s full of emotion, it’s full of … love.”

Daisy felt the tears sting her eyes. “Yes, he’s very good at love.” Her eyes were jewel-bright as she gazed at him across the room. “It’s not fair, you know. All his life he’s wanted only one thing, to create something truly beautiful, to create something special. You’d think he would have been allowed that—” Her voice broke. “He’s such a good man, Jason.”

“I know,” he said gently. “Charlie’s a great guy. I like him very much.”

Suddenly she couldn’t take it any longer. The waiting had gone on too long and the world seemed full of pain and injustice. She had to run away from it before it overwhelmed her.

“Come on.” She snatched up the fringed shawl and headed for the door. “We can’t stay here waiting for him. It will only make him feel guilty when he comes back.”

“Where are we going?”

“For a drive … no, for a walk. I need the exercise. I feel as if I’m about to explode. The mountain. I think I’ll go to the mountain.”

“It’s dark out.”

“That won’t bother me. I know the path.”

“For Lord’s sake, at least change clothes. The soles of those slippers won’t grip the—”

“I don’t care. I need to go
now.
” She whirled at the door to look at him, trying to keep her voice steady. “I know I’m behaving like an idiot. You don’t have to come with me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said roughly. “Of course I’m coming with you.”

She led the way up the mountain at a fast pace, trying not to think of anything but putting one foot before the other, to stretch her endurance to the limit so that she wouldn’t think of Charlie’s tormented expression before he left the cottage.

By the time she reached the summit, the blood was pounding in her veins, her head was swimming, and her lungs ached with every breath.

She stood on the summit and looked down at the lights of the houses in the valley. Charlie was probably in the bar by now, talking quietly to the bartender, sipping his beer, feeling discouraged and—

But she couldn’t think of Charlie right now. It hurt too much.

She turned to Jason, who was climbing the last few yards. “Look at the moonlight on the lake,” she said. “I don’t like moonlight as much as sunlight, but I can’t deny it’s effective. What is there about light on water? Poets talk about it. Ballets are choreographed to extol its beauties. You’d think that—”

“Hush.” Jason’s breath was coming harshly, but the word was enunciated with precision. “You’re babbling and it’s not like you.”

“Babble is a water word too.” Even to herself
her tone sounded feverish and the words kept welling, spilling out into the night. “You’re very good at words. I’ve often thought your lyrics strike a chord in all of us.”

He gripped her shoulders and shook her. “What the hell is wrong with you? I know you’re upset about Charlie, but you’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” She turned to look out over the mountain range and in panic felt the emptiness rushing back to her. “You’re probably right, but there are moments when it’s—” She suddenly buried her face in his chest. “Will you make love to me, Jason?”

She felt him grow tense. “What?”

She was surprised as he was at her question. It had come out of nowhere, born of her sadness and desperation. Yet, in spite of her shock and the surge of tremulous fear that followed, she wasn’t sorry for the words. Jason could help her, Jason could ease the pain and push away the approaching darkness.

“I mean it. I want to feel
alive.
I want to forget—” She broke off and lifted her head to stare up at him. “You said that … well, maybe you don’t want me anymore. I understand if you don’t want to do it.”

“Oh, I want to do it all right,” he said dryly. “I’m ready to pull you down to the ground and take you. But I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not? I said I wanted to do it.”

“I find I have a few scruples left.” His expression was grim in the moonlight. “For some reason you’re practically shell-shocked.”

She pressed closer and buried her face in his soft black cashmere sweater. She could hear the vibration of his heart beneath her ear and felt the
waves of heat emitting from his big body. Life. Safety from the threat of the tigers. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are,” he said hoarsely.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her, his muscles tensing, ready. “I
need
you.”

His heartbeat accelerated. “I believe you do.” He paused. “Here?”

Her own heart gave a wild leap, and she kept her cheek pressed to his chest. “Yes. Right here, right now. Will you do it?”

“If I was a nice guy like Eric, I’d say no.” He pushed her away and smiled recklessly down at her. “But what the hell? I’m no angel, and I’ve always been one to take advantage of the moment. Lord knows we may never have anything else.” He pulled his sweater over his head and dropped it on the ground beside them. “I’ve wanted you too much to be choosy about the way I get you.” He unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and dropped it on top of the sweater. “Take off your gown.”

Her aggressiveness vanished and she felt suddenly shy. She stood staring at him with blazing cheeks.

“Shall I do it?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he took a step closer and began to unfasten the tiny buttons marching down her bodice. “It’s strange how a period gown like this makes a man feel.”

“How does it—” She gasped as his knuckles brushed the inner swelling of her breasts as his fingers deftly negotiated the buttons.

“Like a brigand from another age,” he said softly. “One who had no rules when he wanted a woman. All those hours I sat there in the cottage and watched your father paint you and thought
about how I’d like to do this. I began to have all kinds of fantasies.” He undid the last button, his gaze on her breasts tumbling from the loosened bodice. “About how I’d take off your gown and sit down in that big chair on the platform with you on my lap. How I’d like to put you astride me and rub you against me.” He parted the material of her bodice and looked at the full globes of her breasts. His breath expelled in a burst of air. “Damn.”

She couldn’t breathe and she was trembling uncontrollably. The summer wind touched her taut nipples but she felt no cooling. The eroticism of his words was as much an aphrodisiac as his gaze on her body.

His big, warm palms cupped her breasts.

Her teeth bit into her lower lip to keep from crying out.

His gaze held her own as he squeezed and released, squeezed and released, rhythmically, gently, possessively. “I thought how you’d like it. How you’d squirm and move against me.” His head lowered and his mouth enveloped her nipple. He sucked strongly, pumping her, his teeth pulling at her. “How you’d let me do anything I wanted to you.”

Her spine arched backward and she moaned softly.

“Wouldn’t you?” he muttered. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t make sense of his words; she was lost in heat and sensation.

“Tell me.”

“Yes …”

He drew her closer and the warm, naked flesh of his chest and the triangle of dark hair was a sensual shock against her nipples. Another moan
broke from her as he slowly rubbed her back and forth against his body. “Yes, that’s right,” he said thickly. “Feel me.
Know
me.” His hands left her hips and moved to her hair, loosening the combs that held it in place. It flowed around her, and his fingers tangled in its soft thickness. “Your hair … I’ve wanted to do this so many times … I want to wrap it around me, drown in it, drown in you.” He stripped her quickly, feverishly pushing her down on the ground. The grass was cool against her nakedness, the scent of earth and growth surrounded her.

Life, again. The night was brimming, burning with vibrant life, and she wanted to hold on to it, all of it, before it slipped away.

He stood looking down at her, quickly shedding the rest of his own garments. “Let me look at you. Open your legs,” he begged hoarsely.

She slowly parted her thighs, and she could feel his gaze on her womanhood, vulnerable to him. The muscles of her stomach clenched and she felt her breasts swell as she looked up at him. He was a giant male, overwhelming, and she had never felt more exposed than in this erotic, submissive position.

He fell to his knees and moved between her thighs. His palms pressed down on her diaphragm, throwing her breasts into greater prominence but not touching them. But she wanted to be touched, she thought dazedly. She wanted to be devoured, absorbed by him.

“Do you want me?” he asked hoarsely. “If you don’t, say so now. There’s no going back once you belong to me. Hell, I don’t think I’ll be able to maintain control once I start.”

Belong. For an instant she felt a frisson of
apprehension at the possessiveness of the word. Othello. This wasn’t the wry, clever man who had become her friend in the last week. In the moonlight he was all fierce, sensual warrior.

He leaned forward and his warm tongue touched her belly.

“Quick,” he muttered. “Neither of us can wait. Do you want me inside you?” He moved up, nudging against her but not entering her.
“Do you want me?”

She was burning up, dizzy with need and recklessness-banished caution. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

He plunged forward, burying himself in the depths of her.

She cried out and her spine arched upward. Fullness, thickness, warmth. “Jason!”

He froze. “Lord, why didn’t you tell me? Did I hurt you?” His teeth clenched. “Stupid. Of course I hurt you.”

“No, it’s …” Her hands closed on the grass. “I’m—Oh, please, go on!”

His expression was tortured. “It’s too late to do anything else. I can’t stop. I’ll try to go easy,” he said thickly. “I just had to be part of you.” He drew out and then back, establishing a slow rhythm. “You took me. All of me. See how well we fit? Can you feel me?”

Every inch, every texture. Her fingernails dug into the earth. “Yes.”

“Do you like it?” His hips moved in a circular motion and she gasped as he invaded new depths. “I want you to love it.” He forgot gentleness and began plunging wildly, strongly, deeply. “Moan for me. Let me hear you. I want it all.”

She
was
moaning. She couldn’t help herself. She lunged upward, trying to match his pace, trying
to keep up with him, but he was too wild, too strong, too stallion-hot. She could only hold on to him and let him ride her. Her head thrashed back and forth on the grass as his hands went around and cupped her buttocks, lifting her into each powerful thrust.

Tension was mounting. She could her voice begging, pleading with him for more. His chest lifted in and out with each harsh breath as he moved, his light eyes glittering wildly in the moonlit darkness, his features set as if he were in pain.

“Give to me.” His teeth were set, his eyes half closed. “Now!”

The tension broke and the release was as earth-shaking as what had gone before. He cried out and clutched her close, almost bruising her with the force of his grip.

It was a moment before he stirred, and when he lifted his head, another shock awaited her. The passion was gone and his expression …

Tenderness, wonder, vulnerability. He lifted his hand and stroked her tousled fair hair back from her face with the most exquisite gentleness. “Okay?”

She nodded, her gaze clinging to his face. Here was a more sensitive, gentler Jason Hayes, a man she had somehow sensed was there behind the hard façade but never seen. She felt strange—warm, glowing, filled with joy and … and something else. What? Whatever that emotion was, it was just out of reach, lost in the mists formed by the haze of satiated passion enfolding them.

He pulled her hair over her shoulders and draped it over her breasts. Then he laid his cheek on the silky pillow and rubbed slowly back and
forth. “Another fantasy,” he murmured. “Lord, you have beautiful hair.” He dropped an affectionate kiss on one nipple poking through the strands. “Among other equally lovely aspects of your anatomy.”

Her nipple tightened in response, and he smiled in delight and his lips slowly lowered to hover just above it. “This one I find positively enchanting.” He blew on the distended tip and smiled again as it hardened. “Daisy my love, you may look like an angel, but you definitely have the instincts of a voluptuary.”

My love.
For some odd reason the light words hurt her. “Aren’t you going to get off me?”

“It seems a waste of time. Besides, I like it here.”

She liked it too. His weight seemed so wonderfully right on her body. “We have to get back. Charlie …”

His smile faded. “Ah, yes, the world intrudes.” He moved off her and to the side. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about now? I was hardly expecting a virgin to seduce me.” His lips twisted. “Hell, I wasn’t expecting a virgin at all. For heaven’s sake, you’re twenty-four years old.”

She felt lonely without him. She wanted him back. “I have a career. I’ve been busy. You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”

His gaze moved over her possessively. “Hell no. I … liked it.” He reached out to touch her hair and then stopped, and his hand fell to his side. “But I don’t flatter myself that I was the reason you suddenly decided it was time to change your virginal condition. I wasn’t even trying to arouse you.”

A man with Jason’s virile appeal didn’t have to
try, she thought ruefully. All he had to be was himself. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” His expression was no longer vulnerable but guarded once again. “I didn’t sweep you off your feet tonight, but
something
sure as hell did.”

She stiffened, rolled away from him and sat up. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” she asked lightly. “You said yourself our chemistry was kinetic. You’re a very attractive man. I’m surprised I held out this long.”

“Bull.” His answer was bluntly succinct. “Dammit, something’s wrong.”

She stood up and began to dress. “Of course there was something wrong. I was upset about Charlie.”