Just for a Night (10 page)

And then there was the fountain in the middle, where the driveway parted into two and went round in a circle. It was dominated by a great bronze statue
of a chariot, horse and driver, and the circumference of the stone pond was rimmed with bronze archers shooting not arrows, but jets of water at the invading warrior, whoever he was.

‘I simply love it all,' Marina praised, ‘but especially that fountain. There again, I do so like water.'

‘Wait till she sees the lake, Uncle James!'

‘Lake?'

‘The grounds roll down a slight hill to a lake at the back. There are swans and ducks, and we have a couple of boats you can take out. It's very pleasant down there on a summer evening. There's even a gazebo on a small point jutting into the lake.'

‘I have parties with my dolls there,' Rebecca said. ‘I'll show it to you after I've shown you the horses.'

‘I haven't seen
any
horses yet,' Marina said, glancing around.

‘They're not close to the house,' James explained. ‘I have a motorised golf-cart we can use to get to them.'

‘Don't tell me you have a golf course here as well?'

‘No. Just the cart. But we do have an indoor heated swimming pool and an indoor tennis court.'

‘And how many acres?' She might as well know the whole awful truth. Might as well let it sink in as just who and what she was dealing with here. It would keep her feet firmly on the ground.

‘Around a thousand.'

Marina knew that was a
huge
acreage by English standards. ‘My God, your next-door neighbours aren't
exactly at leaning-over-the-fence-for-a-chat distance, are they?'

He smiled. ‘No. Not exactly.'

‘How ever do you get to meet them?'

‘At polo matches and dinner parties and balls.'

‘Polo matches and dinner parties and balls,' she repeated slowly, thinking this world was a far cry from a drink at the pub on a Friday night and McDonalds and a movie on Saturday. And yet, strangely, as she looked around she didn't feel at all like a fish out of water. If she hadn't known better, she might easily have pictured herself living here, with James by her side. In a weird kind of way her mother had prepared her for just such a life. She was well educated. She had an appreciation of art and fine things. She could ride…

She was almost tempted to tell him she was not totally working class, to say, Hey, half of me is Bingham blood. You know the Binghams, don't you? Smashing good family. They go back centuries. I don't know where they live, and they did give my mother the boot more than twenty-five years ago, but other than that I'm sure they're right up your alley!

‘Uncle James doesn't like parties much,' Rebecca chimed in. ‘Do you, Uncle James?'

‘Not any more, sweetie.'

‘Henry said you'd changed,' the child offered, giving additional information which had James's eyebrows lifting. ‘He said you used to be a “right royal raver” in your younger days. But that nowadays you had “settled down nicely”.'

Marina couldn't help a small laugh, for the child had imitated Henry's pompous manner to perfection.

‘Henry said that to
you
?' James asked his niece in a disbelieving tone.

The child suddenly looked guilty. ‘Well…um…no. Not exactly. He and William were having a cup of tea in the kitchen one day and I…I…'

‘You eavesdropped,' James chided. ‘You know that's not right, Rebecca.'

‘I don't think it's so bad,' she defended herself. ‘It's the only way I can find out interesting stuff. No one ever tells us kids anything!'

Marina struggled not to smile. And so did James, she saw. The corners of his mouth were definitely twitching. The car stopped at the front steps and Rebecca demanded to be let out immediately. William took too long to open doors these days, she confided to her uncle.

‘All right, but don't run,' James warned, before he unzapped her seat belt and opened the car door. Rebecca jumped out and immediately raced up the front steps. Already a plump grey-haired lady was emerging from the house and holding her arms out to the child.

‘That's Mildred,' he explained, sighing. ‘She's been the housekeeper here for a hundred years. Or so it seems. She's actually only about sixty, and very attached to Rebecca. I don't know what she'll do if this transplant doesn't take. God, I don't know what
I'll
do, come to think of it,' he finished wretchedly.

Marina didn't stop to think. She simply reacted,
reaching out to touch his nearest arm. When he looked up at her with still sad eyes, she knew she would do anything to comfort him, regardless of the personal cost.

‘You mustn't worry,' she said softly. ‘And you mustn't fuss. Treat her like a normal child with a future. Have faith, James.'

‘Faith?' He shook his head. ‘I'm not a very religious person, I'm afraid.'

‘What has that got to do with faith? Faith is simply believing. If you believe Rebecca will get better and you treat her as such, then
she
will believe she's going to get better and she will!'

He searched her eyes, with a type of wonder in his. ‘Promise me you won't go back on tonight,' he suddenly urged in a low, husky voice. ‘Promise me now. Say it!'

‘I…I promise,' she whispered shakily.

‘And not just for a short hour or two,' he insisted. ‘All night.'

She shivered beneath the rather ruthless passion in his voice.

A nod was all she could manage this time.

William opened the passenger door at that precise moment, and Marina was relieved to turn away from James's disturbing intensity. But she knew it was only a temporary reprieve. Tonight she would place herself totally in his hands.

She hoped he would be merciful.

M
ARINA
woke with a start, as you do when you have fallen asleep not in your own bed. She half sat up, glanced around the dimly lit room, then sank back down on top of the bed with a sigh, her eyes sliding across to the form sleeping beside her.

Rebecca looked totally at peace in sleep, as most children did. She'd hardly moved since she'd drifted off while Marina read to her, having worn herself out with showing her visitor absolutely everything on the estate. The house, the pool, the tennis court, the horses, the lake and the gazebo, chattering non-stop all the time.

When his niece had begun to droop after lunch, James had put his foot down and insisted she have a nap. Marina had lain down next to her on the bed to read her Enid Blyton's
The Magic Faraway Tree
, and in no time Rebecca had travelled from Faraway Land to the Land of Nod.

James had settled in an armchair across the room while this was going on, listening happily. When Rebecca had dropped off and Marina had tried to stop reading he'd insisted she go on. He'd wanted to hear the end of the story—claimed he'd adored Enid Blyton as a boy and could not get enough.

Marina could not recall if she'd finished the story.
At some stage she must have closed her eyes herself and nodded off. The book, she noted as she rolled over and peered down, was lying on the carpet. And James was…

Marina's head jerked up and she stared through the gloom, surprised to find James still there, his head sunk sidewards, fast asleep. Goodness, she thought. What on earth was the time?

She struggled to see her watch, surprised again to make out that it was not as late as the faded light indicated. Only six. It was then she noticed the drawn curtains. Had James done that? Or Mildred? Maybe Talbot, the butler?

She would not have put it past either of those last two, who were the nicest people. Mildred was a real sweetie and Talbot wasn't nearly as stuffy as Henry. There again, he was not of the old school. He was a very modern style of butler. In his late forties, fair, shortish but fit-looking, he was efficient, courteous and attentive without being obsequious or too pompous.

Although Marina had become perversely fond of Henry's old-fashioned ways, he could do with lightening up a bit, she believed.

Dinner was not to be served until seven-thirty, so Marina decided not to wake anyone else just yet. She was loath to disturb the soundly sleeping Rebecca, and there was something far too intimate about waking James from sleep for Marina's liking. With the evening at hand, she knew it was imperative for her to keep good control of her nerves—and the situation.
She'd got herself into a right state last night and she didn't want a repeat performance—certainly not until they were safely alone together.

Rebecca was an intuitive child, and for all her kindness Marina doubted Mildred had come down in the last shower. It seemed likely the housekeeper had turned a blind eye to many a liaison under this roof, if the previous Earl and his wife had been such a swinging jet-setting couple. The same went for Talbot. Butlers must surely notice things like that. But Marina didn't want any blind eyes being turned towards herself and the new Earl. She wanted the whole household to be genuinely blind to their relationship.

Relationship?
sneered that rotten voice in her head.
What relationship? You're having a one-night stand with him, Marina, that's all. Don't go giving yourself airs and graces, now. You are not the love of His Lordship's life. You are a very convenient passing passion while Her Ladyship is making up her mind.

‘Oh, shut up!' she muttered under her breath, and swung her bare feet over the side of the bed. Pressing her lips firmly together, she slid her feet into her black flatties and stood to walk over to the nearest window, gripping the heavy green drapes and pulling them apart just enough to look down at the rolling hill and the lake.

The water looked beautiful in the late afternoon light. Like liquid glass.

Marina was thinking how magnificent it would look under moonlight when James suddenly materialised behind her, his hands curling over her shoulders.
When she went to whirl around, his grip tightened and he pulled her back against him.

‘Don't,' she croaked.

He turned her round and looked deep into her shadowed eyes. ‘Don't what?' he asked, his voice strained.

‘Don't…do anything. Not here.' And she nodded over to the sleeping child on the bed.

His expression was pained. ‘God, Marina, you frightened the life out of me there for a moment. I thought you were going to tell me tonight was off.'

‘And if I did?' she whispered, in one last crisis of conscience.

‘Then I would have to set out to change your mind back again,' he vowed fiercely. ‘By fair means or foul.'

‘You…you wouldn't do that,' she said shakily. ‘You have too much honour.'

‘This is beyond honour, Marina,' he said, with a dark and bitter resolve. ‘Beyond anything I have ever known before. Believe me when I say if you don't come to my room later tonight, then, by God, I will come to yours!'

The image of his battering on her bedroom door in the middle of the night was nearly as appalling as her sneaking along to his.

‘You won't have to do that,' she rasped. ‘I…I'll come to your room. But only if you promise to do nothing to arouse anyone's suspicions during the course of the evening. Don't flirt with me, or…or look at me as you are doing at this moment.'

‘When will you come?' he demanded to know.

‘When the house is quiet and everyone has retired for the night. I don't want anyone to know, James. That's very important to me.'

‘Fair enough. In that case, don't knock. I'll leave the door unlocked and the key on the inside. Simply slip in and turn the key. That should prevent any disaster such as Rebecca barging in in the middle of the night. Not that she's likely to do that. As you can see, she sleeps like a log.' And he nodded to the still unconscious child.

‘Yes, but she may have had the edge taken off tonight's sleep with this nap.'

‘She still wouldn't come to me if she woke. She'd ring for Mildred. Look, what say I suggest Mildred sleeps in the nanny's room tonight? It's right next to Rebecca's. Just in case Rebecca wakes and wants something.'

‘Yes, yes, that would be good.'
Good?
Marina thought, appalled.
Good?
Nothing about this was good. It was underhanded and tawdry and just simply awful! She wanted to cry, to scream at him.
Beg
him not to do this to her—turn her into something she was not.

‘Marina, don't worry so,' he chided, making everything so much worse with his own apparent ease. ‘It's a very big house with very thick walls and doors. No one will know. I promise you. Now…' He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingertips like licks of flame against her skin. ‘Do you know where my room is? We don't want you stumbling around the corridors, getting lost in the dark.'

‘I won't get lost,' she said, jerking her face sharply so that his hand dropped away. ‘I know exactly where your room is. Rebecca and Mildred gave me the grand tour of the house. Mildred was especially proud of the master of the house's bedroom.'

It was hardly just a room. It was a suite, with a separate sitting room, dressing room and bathroom, all sumptuously furnished. But of course it had been the huge bed which had drawn her eyes earlier that day. A four-poster, which Mildred informed her proudly had once belonged to one of the kings of France.

It was truly magnificent, with an elaborate carved bed-head and a solid rosewood canopy. But what had sent Marina's heart racing were the blue and gold brocade curtains sashed to each bedpost with gold tasselled cords, similar in style to those in her fantasy.

It was the most glorious bed Marina had ever seen. And the most seductive in her eyes. She'd had to work hard not to let her mind fill with new fantasies, all the more arousing because she knew this time she could make them come true, every single decadent one. She had thanked her lucky stars at the time that Rebecca had been showing her the house in Mildred's company, and not James's. If he'd been with them, she would surely have blushed furiously and perhaps made the housekeeper suspicious.

Even thinking about it brought a flushing heat to her face. James saw it, and enclosed her in his arms before she could think to struggle. ‘Stop getting your
self all worked up,' he murmured as he moulded her body to his.

Her eyes rounded at the immediate wave of desire which swept through her body. It roared along her veins, curled through her stomach, then crashed against her thudding heart. A moan surfaced through an ebb tide of longing and starkly sexual need. He heard it and his arms tightened around her, making her hotly aware of his own need, which felt as intense as her own. But infinitely more powerful.

Panic-stricken, she pushed him away. Just in time, too. For there came a sound from the bed and she whirled to find Rebecca yawning and stretching. Marina could feel her cheeks burning but the child didn't seem to have overheard or seen anything.

‘Was I asleep long?' Rebecca asked with a second yawn.

‘Not too long,' Marina said lightly, and walked over to pick the book up from the floor. She didn't dare look back at James. ‘But you'd better get up now. It's not that long till dinner.'

‘Oh. I suppose we're having dinner in the dining room, are we, Uncle James?' She didn't sound at all thrilled with the idea.

‘Yes,' he agreed. ‘Why, would you prefer to eat with Mildred and Talbot in the kitchen?'

‘Oh, yes, please. I hate sitting at that silly long table. I can never see anyone on the other side through the candles and flowers and stuff.'

James laughed and Marina's eyes snapped his way. He looked superbly in control, she realised. No one
would have guessed that a few moments ago he had been so blatantly aroused.

‘I can remember thinking exactly the same at your age,' he tossed over his shoulder at Rebecca as he strolled towards the door. ‘Fair enough. I'll tell Talbot it's just Marina and myself for dinner in the dining room.'

‘Am…am I supposed to get dressed up?' Marina asked, before he could leave the room. Privately, she was appalled at the prospect of having to sit in state with James over a lengthy formal dinner, knowing what was to come later.

He stopped with his hand on the door knob and turned slowly to face her. His eyes were superbly bland as they moved over her body. It was Marina who was a shambles, her heart racing as his gaze moved down over her breasts with their betrayingly hard nipples poking through the soft wool.

‘No,' he drawled. ‘Wear what you've got on, if you like. That looks lovely on you.'

His eyes returned to her face, where they remained fixed for a fraction longer than necessary. And, in that elongated and quite electric moment, she knew his composure was just a façade. He was still as turned on as she was. His need hadn't abated. Neither had his passion. He was just better at hiding it than she was, better at concealing his carnal desires behind a cloak of restraint and respectability.

Marina felt anything but restrained and respectable as she stared after his departing figure.

 

By nine that evening Marina was almost beside herself with tension. Dinner was proving to be the trial she'd suspected it would be, despite the food being as superb as the setting.

She supposed most females would give their eye teeth to be wined and dined in such a room, with its walnut panelling and gracious antique furniture. Most females would probably give their eye teeth to be going to bed with the Lord of the Manor that night, whether he loved them or not!

But it seemed Marina was not most females. She kept wishing with all her heart that it was love stirring James to look at her as he was looking at her across the table, and not those infamous Winterborne hormones.

So much for her warnings about his staring at her with lustful eyes! It seemed she'd unleashed the beast in the Earl of Winterborne with her promise of things to come. He was making Shane look positively civilised with the way his glittering blue gaze kept fixing on her mouth and her breasts, not to mention their sinfully erect nipples!

By the time Rebecca was safely tucked up in bed around ten-thirty—the child had been quite lively after her afternoon nap, as predicted—and Marina could reasonably say her own goodnights just before eleven, she was a mess. She could also no longer delineate between nerves and desire. Her stomach churned. Her hands were clammy. Her body burned.

Once safely in her own lavish bedroom, she fairly dived into the gold-tapped
en suite
shower, staying
there at length in an attempt to cool down her whole system while gathering some much needed composure.

But composure had apparently fled to the far corners of the earth. She groaned her dismay at her utter inner panic. Her mind spun with self-reproach.

Giving her so-called word like this was the worst and the stupidest thing she had ever done! My God, she'd promised to deliver herself to his bedroom like a…a…whore! In a way, she wished she
were
a whore, instead of the basically very inexperienced bed-partner she was. With Shane, she'd simply lain back and gasped in pleasure and surprise at what he'd done. Before Shane she hadn't done anything either, her two earlier boyfriends wanting nothing but quickies, she now realised. They hadn't required her to do anything except not stop them.

But James was a difficult kettle of fish. He would surely be expecting a woman of the world. Instead, he was going to get
her
!

Marina emerged from the shower, shaking.

As midnight drew near she knew she could not delay much longer. She was physically ready, her body washed and perfumed and naked beneath her nightwear. The oyster satin nightie and matching robe covering her nudity were very pretty, though not overly seductive. Oddly, she'd left her hair up, perhaps in defiance of her fantasy about her hair being spread out on a snow-white pillow.