Kate: A Universal Truth (A Wish for Love Series Book 1) (6 page)

The slow parting of her lips must have hinted at her feelings because his quivered in a slight smile.  Only then did she notice he was not alone.  A young woman stood at his side.  She saw him whisper in the woman's ear and they both advanced toward her.

Despite her negative opinion of him she knew, with a woman's keen intuition, that it would be very difficult to resist if he was determined to get something from her.  To her relief, only several steps away from her, their way was blocked by the baroness and her husband who, together with another couple, engaged them in conversation.  He glanced as Kate as if to say, you may think you've escaped but I'm warning you, I don't let go of my prey so easily.

She left her place by the window and found Margaret still standing, deep in a tete-a-tete with Jorge Andrade.

“Kate, where did you disappear to?  Did you see Lord Camedon?  He arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Yes, I saw him.”  At Kate's tone Margaret forbore to continue her inquiries and resumed her animated discussion with Andrade, including Kate in the conversation and allowing her to forget, for a few minutes, the presence of Matthew Camedon. 

The guests were summoned to the gallery where the performance was to take place.  A hundred chairs were set up in a semi-circle on the Persian carpets, facing the entryway to the garden.  Kate and Margaret sat in the seventh row and Kate saw Camedon take his place several rows in front of them.  He leaned his head toward his companion, listening attentively to what she was saying and then, when she finished, he smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.

Kate felt a dull ache catch at her throat.  She chided herself.  He was nothing, less than nothing, to her.  He was a heartless, ruthless, egocentric and supercilious man.  In no way could he possibly interest her.  In no way at all!

His companion was about twenty years old with hair the color of honey and dark eyes.  She wore an orange-cinnamon dress and looked very appealing.  No wonder Matthew Camedon was so engrossed in her.

The music was magnificent.  So much so that Kate, for long stretches of time, completely forgot Matthew Camedon's presence.  As the concert drew to a close Kate and Margaret, along with the other guests enthusiastically applauded the famed opera singer. 

From the speed with which Jorge Andrade bore down on them Kate understood that Margaret had made good use of the time she had with him before the concert.  Striding side by side, the three made their way to the doorway.  Kate refused to look, or even to cast a quick glance, at Matthew Camedon and his partner, who lingered in the room, but she could feel his eyes on her back.  In the next room they waited on the reception line until they could approach their hosts and thank them before saying their farewells.

“Kate.”

They all turned and Kate was forced to introduce Margaret and Jorge to Matthew Camedon.  He was polite and civil and Margaret smiled at him animatedly.  Kate noticed the absence of his companion and a rapid survey of the room revealed her to be talking with one of the guests in a far corner.

“Can I have a word with you?”

He never gives up, she thought.  And he knows I won't make a scene in public. “With pleasure, Lord Camedon.”  She begged to be excused and Margaret and Jorge looked delighted to excuse her.  Matthew led her to the window where he had caught his first glimpse of her that evening.

“I wasn't sure it was you,” he said softly.  “I thought my imagination was playing tricks when I saw you standing before the window.”  His voice was low and utterly lacking the coldness and bite she had come to expect.  She felt unsure of herself.  Against her will his words aroused in her a yearning for something as yet vague and indistinct.  She struggled with herself not to mellow.

“There hasn't been a moment I haven't thought about you this past week.  I must see you.  Let me pick you up in an hour and we'll have dinner together.”

“Lord Camedon,” she began.

“Please, my name is Matthew.  It will be very disconcerting if you use my title every time you address me.”

“Very well, I'll call you by whatever name you choose but the time has come to clear up certain things.”  She spoke quietly but defiantly, making sure only he could hear her.  “You are wasting your time.  I have no intention of turning into another broken heart in your long string of conquests.  There is nothing you might offer that I want!  I'm more and more convinced that nothing can bridge the measureless gulf separating our moral worlds.  So I suggest you continue to confer your undivided attention on your companion.  I have no doubt she'll be less than delighted to discover your plans for the evening include another woman.”

His expression hardened a bit.  Kate was instantly sorry she had inadvertently admitted asking about him, and felt uncomfortable that she had divulged even a small part of what she had learned.  But it was too late now to take back her words, and deep within she was not totally repentant she had bared her feelings.  At least now he would keep away from her, would lapse behind his frosty mask of indifference.  That she could handle.

His eyes flashed and his sensual lips tightened, revealing the sexy cleft at the corner of his mouth.  Despite her chagrin Kate felt that irresistible urge to run her fingers over his lips and cheekbones.  What, she speculated, would his lips feel like as they pressed down on hers and what would be the taste of his kisses? 

Her look must have given away something of her secret yearnings for his body relaxed and the tension left his face.  She drew herself up and lifted her head.  She would not let him defeat her.  She would not surrender.

“You are much mistaken about me,” he started to say when the baroness' voice cut into his words.

“Here you are.”  The baroness, accompanied by the tenor and another woman, stood near them. 

“Dr. Evans, Lord Camedon, I would like you to meet Olivero Herrera and his wife Anita.”

Kate and Matthew shook hands with the baroness' guests of honor.  Kate expressed her great delight at the concert and Matthew seconded her with praise of his own. 

“I know your grandmother well,” the Spanish singer said to Matthew.  “She is an extraordinary woman.  My wife and I have had the pleasure of her company at various soirees of the king and queen of Spain.”

“I agree.  She is quite an unusual character,” Matthew grinned and Kate was unable to take her eyes off his mouth.

“She has told us about your house in Northampton. Bellewoodplain, if I'm not mistaken,” added Anita Herrera.  “Her descriptions were so vivid.  I'm sure it must be a splendid place.”

“I can assure you, Mrs. Herrera, that any description can only do an injustice to Bellewoodplain, and I would be glad to invite you to be my guests any time you so wish.”

I must be dreaming, thought Kate.  Here I am, Kate Evans, in the house of a baron and baroness, on one side of me the most famous tenor in the world and on the other side a handsome Marquis whose grandmother feels at home in the company of the king and queen of Spain.  And to top it off, her best friend stood a few feet away talking to a world-renowned author.

She would soon wake up and find it was all a mirage.

“Margaret told me you have already met,” the baroness addressed Kate and Matthew.  “Isn't that wonderful?  Did you know you would meet here today?”

Matthew looked at Kate.  “We had no idea, but as Kate has already been invited to Bellewoodplain as my guest we would have seen each other very soon.”

Kate saw the teasing gleam in his eyes.  She had to get out of his range.  She managed to smile at the baroness and murmur farewell.  She went off to look for Margaret and Jorge and found them ready to leave.

“Jorge has suggested we join him for dinner and I've accepted in your name as well.  We'll eat at Chez Alain.  Doesn't that sound marvelous?”

“Marvelous,” Kate, still distraught, echoed her friend.  It was a miracle she had given him the slip.  If it were not for the baroness, she had the feeling she would have been all too easily convinced to dine with him.  How had he planned to get rid of his date, she wondered.  She seemed madly in love with him, often smiling, and looking at him with adoring eyes.  She was very cute and Kate felt sorry for her.  He certainly lived up to his reputation as a man who used women to satisfy his carnal lust and then, without pity or emotion, threw them over.  He could at least have the decency to choose a woman who was his equal, she thought angrily, someone with experience and not a girl so young and innocent.

Gradually she calmed down and by the time they got into Jorge's rented limousine her dejection lifted and she was able to talk naturally.  Jorge, overcoming his bashfulness, proved himself a charming man with a cynical sense of humor.  Kate, who had read all his books, immediately found a common language with the author.  Margaret was in seventh heaven and her radiant smile never faded.

Tomorrow, Kate decided, she would spend the day as planned in London.  She would visit Leonora and take in the new exhibit at the Tate Gallery but she would return to Oxford in the evening.  She had no intention of burdening Margaret and Jorge with her presence.

This must be one of the most fashionable restaurants in London, Kate thought when they arrived at their destination.  Attention had been paid to every detail of the restaurant's decor.  The place was full but Kate’s fears there would be no room for them were soon laid to rest.  Jorge had reserved a table in advance.

“How could you be sure we would agree to dine with you?” Margaret asked in surprise as they seated themselves at the round table. 

“I couldn't.  I hoped.”  He looked disconcerted.  “I must confess that I reserved a table here every night since the day we met, but I didn't have the nerve to call to invite you.”

It was very sweet of him to say that, thought Kate.  It would never enter Matthew Camedon's mind that a woman would turn down an invitation from him.

Jorge ordered a bottle of red wine and Kate was once again made aware of the pleasures money could provide.  Her eyes roved over the other diners and she picked out a well-known Shakespearean actor in the company of another man, and two women sitting several tables away.  One of the women was Lola, the supermodel.  Matthew should stick to that kind of woman, she thought, she looks tough enough to stand up to any possible letdown.  Not like the engaging woman he had brought to the concert.

At that moment Margaret leaned and whispered in her ear, “don't look now, but Lord Camedon and his date have just walked in.”

What a frustrating coincidence.  Why, out of all the restaurants in London, did he have to choose this particular one?  Caught off-guard, she tried to control her agitation. Was it tension or excitement she felt, anger or joy?  She was curious to see Lola's reaction when she saw the Marquis.  She turned her head in the direction of the supermodel but could not see Lola.  Her line of sight was blocked by Matthew and she lifted her head to stare straight into his eyes and those of the young woman at his side.  He has no conscience, she decided.  An hour ago he was ready to ditch her for me and after my rejection he obviously decided to go ahead with his original plan.

After greeting Margaret and Jorge in a voice that was, to Kate's amazement, cordial, he addressed her directly.  “Kate, I'd like you to meet my sister, Rebecca.”

Kate was stunned.  She felt like a complete idiot.  She would have given a great deal to take back the words she had hurled at Matthew at the concert.  This charming girl was his sister.  She recalled Richard Lindsay's description of her.  The girl standing before her looked neither weak-willed nor colorless but fragile and a bit shy, radiating youth.  Kate shook Rebecca Camedon's hand vigorously.

“My brother wanted me to make your acquaintance at the baroness' but you left so quickly.  I'm pleased to see you again.”

Kate took to her immediately.  “The pleasure is all mine.”

Jorge rose to his feet.  “Won't you join us?” he asked. 

Rebecca turned to her brother, trying to contain her elation, “if it's alright with you, Matthew.”

“Who am I to refuse,” he answered his sister but his eyes never left Kate's face and she felt their fervor bring a flush to her cheeks.

Jorge and Margaret exchanged swift looks.  Jorge made a small sign to the waiter who hovered attentively nearby, and the latter added two settings.  Rebecca and Kate sat down, followed by Jorge and Matthew. Margaret started to talk and stopped, dismayed.

The glamorous Lola stood by their table and Matthew turned his head, surprised to see her there.  He rose to his feet.  Kate was astounded at the model's height.  She looked directly into his eyes.

“I was expecting you,” she said stridently, “Alain told me you reserved a table.”

“Are you spying on me?”

Kate heard the bored and glacial tone of his voice.  Exactly as he had spoken to her the first time they met, before she aroused his interest.  He was an enigma.  It was hard to square the impassivity, harshness and severity he had shown at the beginning of their acquaintance with the emotion and devotion he bestowed on Rebecca and with his close friendship with John.

“We have some unfinished business, Matthew,” Lola replied.  “We have to speak.”

Kate was surprised at the woman's self-possession.  She obviously didn't care that everyone at the table heard what she said.  Kate noticed that Matthew appeared just as unperturbed.  He stood in the now familiar pose, one hand in his pocket, the other negligently holding on to the back of Kate's chair.

“Whatever there was between us is long dead and buried, and as you must have noticed, this is not the time to bring them to life.”

Lola looked infuriated. “I'm not giving up so easily.  You'll be back, Lord Camedon,” she said grimly, bitterly stressing his title, “you'll be back.”  She looked at him intently and then, a faint smile on her lips, she turned and wended her way back to her table. 

Matthew sat down and shrugged his shoulders in apology. “I'm sorry,” he said and added nothing more.

“They always do that to him,” Rebecca whispered to Kate who sat on her other side.

Despite Kate's trepidation the scene didn't throw a pall over the dinner and the mood around the table soon turned spirited and convivial.  The food was delicious and the wine, which flowed like water, was excellent.  The conversation centered on literature and poetry and soon shifted to the romantic poetry of the nineteenth century, a focus of Kate's expertise.

“Which poem expresses the truest love between a man and a woman, Kate?” asked Rebecca shyly.  Kate felt the question was asked out of more than sheer curiosity.  This reserved young woman was in love.

Suddenly they all looked her way.  Kate was glad Matthew sat beside her and not opposite.  If her life had depended on it, she couldn't have quoted a poem of love in front of those splendid eyes.

Calm down, she admonished herself, her heart accelerating its beat.  Many times she had stood before tens, even hundreds, of people and quoted poetry.  There was no reason she should disappoint her audience now.

“There are many love poems I like but there is one I find especially lovely by Percy Bysshe Shelley."  She cleared her throat before reciting.

"The fountains mingle with the river,

And the rivers with the ocean;

The winds of heaven mix forever,

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

In one another's being mingle;

Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss high heaven,

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea."

Kate took a deep breath.

"What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?"

Matthew concluded the verse for her.

Slowly Kate turned her head.
There was something in the brown, gold-rimmed pupils that had not been there before.  Tenderness.  Warmth.

The others broke into applause.

“No wonder the students worship the ground you walk on,” said Matthew, his smile lighting his eyes for a minute.

Kate felt a keen stab of happiness.  She smiled back.

The conversation turned lively.  Kate was soon sensible of his broad education.  He had read the books mentioned by Kate and Jorge and his remarks were intelligent and provocative.  He could recite entire poems by major poets and every poem Kate started, he finished.  He's phenomenal, she thought. 

The wine continued to flow and the atmosphere became charged with unexplainable emotion; as though they were celebrating something, as though the meal signified a new beginning.

Margaret told of several interesting cases she had come across in her psychiatric practice and Rebecca described her architectural studies in Italy.

“You must visit me there, Kate,” she insisted when Kate regretfully admitted she had never visited the country.  Indeed, she thought to herself, I haven't been anywhere.

“We have a house in Florence.  You'll love the place,” Rebecca added.

After they ordered dessert Kate felt the material of Matthew's trousers brush against her leg.  Decency demanded she move hastily away, but instead she let his leg range against hers.  He didn't look in her direction and continued calmly talking to Jorge on a critique of his latest novel that had appeared in a literary magazine.  The touch was innocent but the sensation that spread to the top of her thighs was devastating.  She was conscious of nothing but the touch of his leg against hers. It was her good luck that Rebecca and Margaret were busy exchanging views on the beauty and charms of Italy and paid no attention as Kate closed her eyes, struggling to regain her composure.  No man had caused her feelings to roil in such a tempest and she was unable to control them.

She was lost.  She wanted him.

Kate never thought she was the reckless type but what happened then, what she did that minute, made her doubt she had ever known her true self.  She acted, driven by a wild impulse, an irrational, uncontrollable compulsion.  She twined the fingers of her right hand in those of Matthew's left hand, which rested on his knee under the tablecloth.

The touch was electrifying, sensational.

She caught her breath, looking apprehensively at Margaret and Jorge who paid her no mind.  Jorge continued talking spiritedly with Matthew as did Margaret with Rebecca.

He didn't respond at first and Kate was gripped by fear he would reject her touch.  That would be the ultimate humiliation.

Then his warm, strong fingers tightened their grip.  She found it hard to breathe.  The tingling between her thighs was stronger than ever.  He said something to Jorge as his thumb slowly rubbed the back of her hand.

Matthew felt his body charged with a galvanizing current.  He could not remember a woman who had provoked such burning desire.  The surprising touch of her fingers entwined in his aroused an urgent need and he felt his muscles tighten with a distilled concentration of pleasure.  He had misjudged her.  She was daring and gutsy and her soul that of a free spirit.  Outwardly she radiated an ethereal gentility but the hand in his transmitted a message of sensuality, of vague desires that had never yet been satisfied.

This woman was meant to be loved!  And he intended to fulfill her destiny.

Dessert was served and Kate released her hand despite the slight resistance of his fingers.

How had she dared, she thought aghast, the full import of her act only now sinking in.  She had lost the last shred of her sanity.  But the yearning refused to fade.  She still felt the touch of his fingers linked with hers and the weight of his hand gripping hers.

Kate apologized, while rising to her feet.  “Excuse me.” She entered the lounge and stared at herself in the mirror.  She knew she looked good.  Bless Margaret for the clumsy turn of her wrist. The dress was extremely flattering. She smoothed her loose
hair and heightened the cherry hue of her lips.

When she left, she faltered.  Matthew was leaning nonchalantly against the wall. He straightened up when he saw her.  Kate began to fear the dire aftereffects of her reckless gesture.  She would just have to stand up to him and take the consequences of her impulsiveness.  But she refused to run.  She was responsible for her actions.  She took a few steps and stood in front of him. She didn’t regret her spontaneous gesture at the table.  The experience had been too arousing for her to wish it undone.  But she was afraid.  Afraid of the unknown.  The situation was getting out of hand and she had no idea where it was leading.  A sense of panic gripped her as she defiantly lifted her eyes to his.

For a second she was dazzled by the light she saw in their depths.  The tiger was keen for the hunt.  Primed for the chase.

She retreated backwards toward the restaurant when his hand stopped her, grasping her exposed arm for a minute and then releasing it.

“You want me, Kate.  You want me as much as I want you.”

He did not touch her but his tensed body was dangerously close to hers.

“There can't be anything between us.”

“Why?”  His voice was low and his eyes turbulent, “why do you think that?”

She stammered, “It simply makes no sense.”

“You are coming with me tonight.”  The tone softened but Kate could clearly hear the steely edge in his voice.  “I won't let you go.  I want to see the sun rise with you by my side, to feel your silken hair brush my face and shoulder, its velvet length sliding through my fingers.  I want to hear you repeat my name over and over again, imploring me to love every inch of your bare body.”

She had expected polite phrases about his desire to meet her again but had not anticipated the urgency and forcefulness of his request.  Matthew Camedon went the limit.  He wasted no time.

She wanted to tell him to forget it.  That she would never be his.  That she would never yield.  But she could only gape at him, her heart beating wildly under the impact of his sensual dictate.  She finally managed to speak.  “This is absurd.  I don't want you.  You'll never be able to give me what I need.”