No Less Than a Lifetime Page 10

  “Faith.”

  She made herself face him again, though she couldn’t quite let her arms down. He helped her, taking her wrists and pulling them away from her body.

  “In my eyes,” he said again, so tenderly.

  She didn’t look away, though she knew that all her skin was flushed pink. He whispered that she was beautiful. She blushed pinker still.

  “Let’s go to bed.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

  He still held one of her wrists. He turned, leading her behind him, and went to a pair of open louvered doors on the inside wall. Beyond them was a wide bed with a quilted spread in swirling gray and mauve and salmon pink. The night tables, on either side, bore lamps with soft lights glowing in the bases, like the ones in the outer room. She saw that his jacket and tie were thrown across a chair, not far from the bed. And on one of the night tables was a small box.

  Faith knew enough to realize that the box held contraceptives. Now she understood what Price had bought in that gift shop downstairs.

  He led her to the bed, took her shoulders and guided her to sit on the edge. He smiled. She smiled tremulously back.

  And then he turned from her. He undressed quickly, tossing the rest of his clothes toward the chair, where they landed haphazardly on top of his jacket and tie.

  She didn’t feel quite so naked when he turned to her again. She still had on her half-slip and her panties and her shoes. But he was completely bare.

  She dared to look her fill at him: her secret love, who by some miracle would spend the night with her. She saw a tall, dark man, with eyes like a mountain sky at night, indigo blue. His body was hard and muscular, in a lean, efficient way. His shoulders were broad, and his chest was wide, tapering down to a tight waist. Dark hair whorled out over masculine nipples and then down in a trail to the juncture of hard thighs.

  He seemed very large—not that she was really any judge of such things—and very ready to make love to her. She looked away.

  “In my eyes,” he said again.

  She met the tender challenge. He came and knelt before her, taking each of her feet in turn and slowly sliding her black shoes away. Then he laid his hands lightly on her thighs, over the silky fabric of her half-slip. He rubbed, with a breath of a caress. His eyes continued to hold hers captive.

  Slowly, he pushed up the slip. At his urging, she lifted a little when he reached her hips. The slip bunched at her waist. He left it there, as his hands strayed upward. She gasped when he cupped her breasts.

  She felt all weak inside. With a moan, she gave in to the weakness, reaching her hands behind her to grasp the bedspread, resting on them, letting her head fall back. She closed her eyes, expecting him to tell her again that she must look at him.

  But he didn’t. He was silent. She moaned again, in excitement at the heat that was spreading down inside her.

  His hands were moving again, downward, over the bunched silk at her waist, and then lower still. He put a hand on either thigh, there, at the juncture of her legs. His thumbs delved inward.

  She gasped again. He made a soothing sound as he rubbed the cleft that her panties still covered. She knew she was becoming very wet down there. She could feel the moisture, dampening the silk, betraying her longing in such an embarrassing way.

  His hands slid up again. His fingers curled over the top of her panties. He peeled them down.

  Faith kept her eyes closed, her head thrown back. And she lifted her hips so that he could take the panties away. Now she had no protection from him.

  He made a sound then, a hungry sort of sound. She didn’t look. She couldn’t. She was so…hot. So weak. She wanted him to…

  His hands, warm and sure and strong, took hold of her, one on each thigh. He guided her legs slowly apart. She resisted, just a little, but the inexorable pressure of his will was so delicious. Her resistance was token; they both knew that.

  And then, when at last the most intimate secrets of her body were his alone, he touched her there once again. He caressed her slowly, gently at first, then with deeper, more demanding strokes.

  She tossed her head. She felt the fire inside building, reaching to be something greater, an explosion, a… completion.

  And then his mouth was there.

  Faith was too overwhelmed to be shocked. Was this not what she had dreamed of, imagined, made happen in her mind through all the lonely nights, for too many years to admit?

  His intimate kiss went on and on. She pushed herself toward him, frantic and needful and utterly without shame.

  The explosion occurred. A hot flower of pure fire, it opened outward, shattering her completely as it bloomed.

  She fell back against the bed.

  But he had only started. He rose above her. She lay limp, totally open to him. There was a brief moment when he dealt with the box by the bed. And then he was urging her upward among the pillows, stripping away the rumpled half slip she still wore, settling himself between her thighs.

  “Now,” he said.

  She opened her eyes. His were so blue. Was this happening? Was this real? All her sad and hopeless little dreams, real for this night, for this brief moment of erotic splendor in a tower by the Bay?

  He pressed into her. She bit her lower lip.

  “Faith!” His face contorted. He knew for sure right then that she had never done this thing before.

  She lifted her legs, wrapped them tight around him and surged upward, pulling him down at the same time. Her innocence broke.

  He made a strangled sound. “You…didn’t tell me…”

  She pulled him tighter, rocked herself against him. He moaned and surrendered, pushing deep into her. She stroked his powerful back through an eternity of breath-held stillness.

  At last, he raised up on his forearms and looked down at her.

  He pulled back—and pushed in. His eyes were cruel. And full of need.

  “Does it hurt?” The question seemed ground out of him. “Do you want me to stop?”

  It did hurt. But not as much as it pleasured. She shook her head against the pillows.

  “Good.” He did it again, a strong thrust of powerful hips.

  She cried out then. But he didn’t stop. He moved faster, deeper, and his eyes never let go of hers—until the end, when he allowed her to pull him down and hold him.

  “Tighter,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear. “Your legs and your arms. Tight around me. Before you go away forever.”

  She held him tighter. As tight as she could. And at last she felt him, pulsing deep within her. He cried out.

  Her cry answered his. White light pulsed from the center of her, blinding, overwhelming. She went over the edge of the world for the second time that night.

  Afterward, she stroked his back. He rubbed his head against her shoulder, in a gesture that spoke to her of infinite tenderness, of loving affection.

  Right then, he seemed hers, as he had never been.

  And would never be again…

  He raised his head, looked at her. “What is it?”

  She lied with a smile. “Nothing. Kiss me.”

  His mouth settled on hers once more, stealing all thought away. He began to caress her again.

  Faith surrendered completely to his touch. This was the only night they’d ever share. She refused to waste a moment of it in pointless regret.

  Chapter Seven

  Faith woke from a dream of water and stillness. Slowly she floated up to consciousness.

  She was lying on her back, with a hand thrown over her eyes. There was a weight across her stomach. Before she even moved, it all came back to her. The beautiful dinner. Her humiliating flight. The absurdity and wonder of those moments in the housekeeping closet on the twentieth floor.

  And later. In the room. In this room…

  Carefully she lowered the arm over her eyes. Daylight.

  She turned her head.

  Price. He slept on his stomach, facing the other way. His right arm was flung out over her, cre
ating that weight across her middle that she hadn’t quite understood as she was waking.

  She raised her head a little, so that she could see out into the other room. Morning. Definitely. The light looked gray; an overcast day.

  She glanced at the bedside clock. Not morning at all. Noon. A little past noon.

  Beside her, Price groaned in his sleep. He shifted, moving the arm that pinned her down. Then he rolled onto his right side, so that now his whole body was facing away from her.

  Everything that he’d done to her flooded through her mind. Everything they’d done together. Everything she’d done to him.

  She had surprised herself, actually. She’d become extremely inventive in a very short period of time.

  Faith closed her eyes and sighed—but it was a quiet sigh. She didn’t want to wake him. She didn’t want him to turn to her and look at her as if he weren’t quite sure what she was doing in this bed with him.

  She wanted—out. Now. Before she had to meet his eyes, lying here next to him, naked as the day she was born.

  Faith waited, absolutely still, listening. His breath came evenly, shallow and slow.

  Good. If she was quiet, she could probably make her escape without disturbing him.

  With excruciating slowness, Faith eased back the spread. She slipped a leg over the side of the bed, and then slid the other one after it. She landed soundlessly on her feet. Her slip, panties and shoes were right there beside the bed. She snatched everything up and tiptoed into the other room.

  There, she allowed herself to breathe again. She stopped by the big window and looked out. She saw a wall of gray mist. Fog had crept in during the night.

  Faith yanked on her rumpled clothes—except for her shoes, which she decided to carry until she was safely out of the room. The zipper under the bow of her dress gave her trouble. She struggled with it, and let out a tiny moan of relief when she finally succeeded in pulling it up. She grabbed her little jacket and shoved her arms into it. At last, her shoes in one hand and her beaded purse in the other, she headed for the door.

  Once in the hallway, she paused to slip into the shoes. Then she hurried for the elevators, looking straight ahead, not daring so much as a glance at the maid who approached and then trundled on by, pushing a cleaning cart.

  At the elevators, she had to wait for a car. Each second was a year. And then, when one set of doors finally opened, there were two couples inside.

  Faith knew what she looked like: the unmade bed she’d just slithered out of. She longed to race for the stairs. But she was on the twenty-fifth floor. It would be a long walk down.

  No. She would ride. She clutched her purse tightly to the wrinkled bodice of her dress and boarded the elevator.

  A lifetime later, she emerged on the lobby floor. She forced herself to walk at a sedate pace to the rest room.

  Once safely inside, she used the facilities, washed her face and hands and then spent a good five minutes trying to coax the tangles from her flyaway hair. At last, she gave up on getting out all the snarls. She rolled the mess at the back of her head, anchoring it on itself in a loose knot.

  As tidy as she could make herself in a crushed velvet dress with no stockings, Faith left the bathroom and headed for the main doors to the street.

  Outside, the fog lay like a gray blanket over everything. But luck was with her. A cab materialized out of the mist.

  Price woke smiling, facing the far wall, in complete awareness of where he was and how he’d arrived there. Memories of the night just past came to him, curling through his mind like the haunting strains of some lush, romantic song.

  Price’s smile deepened. He was aroused all over again. Damn difficult to believe. He wasn’t any kid. After all that had gone on last night, sex should have been the last thing on his mind.

  Price wondered about the time, but only distantly. The time didn’t really matter. He wasn’t letting Faith out of this bed until they’d made love again. Thoroughly.

  He rolled over to reach for her.

  When he saw that the other side of the bed was empty, his belly knotted in sudden apprehension. But then he relaxed. She was probably just in the shower.

  He levered himself up on an elbow, listening. The suite seemed too quiet. On the nightstand by Faith’s side of the bed, something gleamed: her earrings. She had removed them not too long before they finally dropped off to sleep last night.

  A flash of memory revealed her to him. She’d been sitting up, her head tipped to the side as she fiddled with the posts. Her bare skin had looked creamy against the sheets. Her hair had fallen like a veil over her round breasts.

  “These were my mother’s. They’re about the only thing I have left that was hers.”

  “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Come here.”

  She’d set them on the nightstand and turned into his waiting arms…

  Eager to find her, Price threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. Naked, he stalked through the rooms. In short order, he discovered that Faith’s clothes were gone—and so was she. While he lay sleeping, she had dressed and left, leaving nothing but her mother’s earrings behind.

  A seething, anxious anger moving through him, Price stood before the big window in the living area and stared out at a wall of grayness. A pigeon materialized out of the mist and landed against the outside sill, its wings fluttering as it tried to find a perch. Price watched its futile struggles until it gave up and flew away, disappearing into the swirling murk as if it had never been.

  What the hell was she up to, running off like this? She’d left him without a word. Left him to wake up alone and wonder where she’d gotten herself off to. To pray she was all right.

  Price sank to a nearby chair. He stared blindly at the gray nothingness beyond the glass. Slowly, his anger faded.

  He and Faith had shared one night. That gave him no hold over her. She was free to go whenever—and wherever—she pleased. She had no responsibility to inform him of her plans.

  And besides, what kind of hold was he thinking of, anyway? He wanted no hold over any woman, no matter how lovely, sensitive, warm and caring she was—not to mention incredibly responsive in bed.

  And a virgin, on top of everything.

  A virgin. Yes, that probably explained a lot, now that he thought about it. She’d been innocent. And in the cold light of morning, when she woke beside him, it had all been too much for her. She’d fled.

  Price stood. He went looking for his clothes. He had to get home right away. To make certain she was there. And to see for himself that she was okay.

  He dressed swiftly. Just before he left the suite, he scooped up her earrings from the nightstand and shoved them into a pocket of his slacks.

  Because of the fog, the ride home took forever. But at last, an hour after she’d hailed the cab in front of the hotel, Faith arrived at the side door off the kitchen of Montgomery House.

  She paid the cabbie and then ran up the steps to the door. She had no key. She’d had sense enough to bring some cash, but it had never occurred to her when they left last night that she’d be returning without Price—or that she’d have any reason at all to want to slip into the house unnoticed.

  So Faith was forced to ring the bell. Then she had to wait for Justine to come, since it was Sunday and neither Balthazar nor the maids worked Sundays. The foggy air was cold enough to chill the bones. Her rumpled velvet jacket provided little warmth. Faith wrapped her arms around herself to control her shivering and waited to be let in.

  At last, Justine pulled back the door.

  Faith had to hand it to the new housekeeper. Justine knew how to deal with an awkward situation; she defused it by ignoring it.

  “Hello, Faith.” Justine stepped back, and Faith moved beyond the threshold, into the welcome warmth of the big kitchen. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was upstairs.”

  Faith forced a smile. “No problem.
Where are Regis and Ariel?”

  “In the morning room.”

  It was the answer that Faith had feared she’d get. To reach the back stairs, she’d have to walk right past them.

  Faith looked closely at Justine and thought she saw sympathy in her hazel eyes. She decided she’d rather be frank with the new housekeeper than have to deal with Price’s parents right then. “I don’t want them to see me.”

  “Okay,” Justine said, without missing a beat. “What do you want me to do?”

  But Faith had no time to answer, because right then Ariel appeared from the morning room. “Justine, who—?” Violet eyes went wide. “Oh, my dear.” Her hot-pink chiffon lounging pajamas fluttering with each step, Ariel rushed to Faith’s side. “Are you all right?”

  Faith clutched her evening bag so tightly that the beading dug into her fingers. Oh, why hadn’t she considered what this morning would be like before she threw caution to the winds last night?

  “Faith, are you ill?”

  “No, I’m not. Really. I’m fine.”

  Ariel shoved her hair out of her eyes. “Oh, my. What’s happened? Where’s Price?”

  “He’ll, um, be along in a little while.”

  “But—”

  Faith hastened to reassure the older woman. “He’s fine. Truly. I just…decided to come home a little ahead of him.”

  “But, dear, I don’t—”

  “Listen. I’ve had a long night. I need a hot bath.”

  “Well, of course. But if you’d only—”

  “Ariel. I’m just not up to going into any details right now. Please understand. Price will be along soon. I promise you.”

  Justine stepped in. “Yes, Ariel. Faith needs a little time to herself. Come on back to the morning room.” She already had the older woman by the arm.

  Casting Justine a look of abject gratitude, Faith scooted around the two women and headed for the door to the central hall. Behind her, Ariel was still sputtering and Justine was making soothing sounds. Faith tuned them out. All she wanted right then was to attain the privacy of her rooms.

  She met little Eli on the second-floor landing.