First-Class Seduction

There seemed to be only one answer. Suzy had wanted them to spend the night together, wanted to be sure there would be no grounds for forgiveness or reconciliation…

And in that she had succeeded admirably, Bel thought bitterly. Not only would Roderick never forgive her, but she would never forgive herself.

Watching her expressive face, Andrew asked quietly, ‘I suppose you must hate the girl?’

Bel shook her head wearily. ‘No, I don’t hate her. I can’t even blame her for seizing the opportunity. Suzy’s in love with Roderick and—’ She broke off abruptly as tears threatened.

Andrew made as if to put his arm around her, but she flinched away, frightened of his touch, muttering, ‘Keep your hands off me. You’ve done enough harm.’

His voice soothing, reasonable, he said, ‘When you’ve got over the shock, and had time to think, you’ll be willing to admit you’ve had a lucky escape.’

‘A lucky escape! I happen to love Roderick.’

‘Not passionately.’

‘Enough to want to spend the rest of my life with him.’

‘He’s not the man for you, Bel.’

‘In a minute you’ll be telling me you are!’

‘I don’t need to tell you. Your subconscious already knows. When we bumped into each other in that restaurant it was like a spark set to dynamite. Then when we met for a second time that same spark was there, burning fiercer than ever. That’s why you’re scared to let me touch you…why our night together was—’

Alarmed by the undoubted truth of his words, and the feeling that she was being relentlessly taken over, she broke in derisively, ‘Don’t tell me…our night together was wonderful!’

Eyes gleaming, he murmured, ‘So you do remember?’

‘I don’t remember a thing,’ she denied, her cheeks growing pink. ‘For all I know you could have raped me.’

‘I didn’t rape you,’ he said quietly.

‘But you did take advantage of me,’ she accused

‘I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to do…’

Knowing the strength of her reaction to him when her barriers were up, and guessing what it must have been like with all her inhibitions gone, she found herself reluctantly believing him.

‘As I said before, you’re a very passionate woman…’

Bel had never thought of herself that way. She’d had boyfriends since her schooldays, but a certain inborn reserve, a natural self-respect, had prevented her from indulging in casual relationships.

Throughout college, having decided on a career in business rather than art, a determination to succeed had kept her mind on her work when most of her contemporaries were paying more attention to their love life.

‘How did you manage to hold out against Bentinck?’ Andrew pursued. ‘Or wasn’t he that pressing?’

‘Of course he was pressing!’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s a red-blooded man.’

Andrew raised a dark brow. ‘So in this day and age how come you didn’t sleep together?’

‘We wanted to wait until after we were married.’

‘Both of you? I get the feeling that you were the one who held back. That you were never seriously tempted…’

It was the truth, and she was unable to deny it. Perhaps, on her side at least, that vital spark Andrew had talked about had been missing from their relationship.

‘Isn’t that so?’ he persisted.

Cornered, she cried wrathfully, ‘I don’t want to discuss it.’

In no way fooled, Andrew smiled sardonically and observed, ‘It would have been a very dull marriage.’

‘How dare you presume that?’

Unruffled, he said, ‘As well as being one of the pleasures of life, good sex is an important part of any complete and happy relationship.’

‘It would have been good. We loved each other.’

‘I doubt if Bentinck ever took your breath away and made your heart beat faster. He would never have been able to lift you to the heights—’

‘I’ve already told you I don’t want to talk about Roderick,’ she broke in jerkily. ‘And I won’t sit here any longer and let you belittle our relationship!’

Only the damage was done.

Already Andrew had raised doubts, and Bel was even more furious to find herself wondering if she might have missed out had she gone ahead and married Roderick.

Contemplating Andrew’s long, lean and no doubt skilful hands, and his mouth—a mouth that sent shivers down her spine—with a strange pang, she realised that she’d also missed out on what would almost certainly have been the most exciting night of her life.

But what was she thinking of? She ought to be mourning the loss of her virginity to a total stranger rather than the inability to remember the experience!

Oh, but she had been right to put him down as dangerous, she thought agitatedly. In less than twenty-four hours he had taken her virginity, wrecked her engagement, dragged her pride in the dust and, worse, made her doubt her own wishes and desires.

Confused, angry both with him and with herself, she said raggedly, ‘Now we’ve had breakfast perhaps we can get on our way?’

‘Is there any reason to hurry back? We could spend a pleasant day in the country.’

He must be joking!

As she began to shake her head he added quizzically, ‘I’ll do my best to keep my hands off you.’

With a flash of her old spirit, she retorted, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll help you.’

He laughed. ‘Then the answer’s yes?’

‘The answer’s no!’ The last thing she wanted was to spend any more time with him. She needed to be alone, to think. More moderately, but no less determinedly, she added, ‘I want to get home.’

Appearing in no way put out, he rose to his feet, tall and broad-shouldered, overpoweringly male, and agreed, ‘Very well…Would you like to freshen up before we start?’

As they headed into London, mingling with the Saturday morning traffic, he made conversation, forcing her to talk rather than relapse into a brooding silence as she would have preferred.