Act of Will (50 page)

‘Yes—and to our dinner. It’s probably the most expensive you’ve ever had to buy, if you include your air fare and the hotel room here. Unless, of course, you do this kind of thing frequently, then I realize it must be very run-of-the-mill for you, nothing exceptional at all.’

He stared at her intently, wondering if she was insinuating something about other women, but he saw at once there was no innuendo behind her words. Her expression was guileless.

Then her laughter rippled on the air between them, light, amused.

Miles took in her merry face and dancing grey eyes and he burst out laughing too. The laughter helped to ease his tension, though not much. He had wanted her for two weeks, had fantasized about making love to her so many times he had worked himself up into a terrible state. Now that he was finally with her he was focused entirely on her, and his whole body was taut with his desire to possess her. He thought he was ready to explode, and he knew that he would before the night was out if he did not make love to her.

Christina sipped her champagne, eyed him quizzically, asked, ‘Miles, what would you have done if I’d had another date tonight?’

He sat back, took a cigarette, struck a match, the bright blue eyes still crinkling at the corners with laughter. ‘That possibility had occurred to me, I must confess. I did have contingency plans—’

He leaned across the table in an intimate manner, explained, ‘I would have invited you to dine tomorrow or Sunday, and if you’d had engagements for those
evenings,
I
would have asked you out to lunch or suggested that we have drinks on one of those days. And in the end, I would have probably settled for a cup of tea, or breakfast, or a walk in the
bois
or whatever you’d agreed to do with me. You see, I did want to get better acquainted with you, Christina, and I can be very, very persistent.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘You do?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘
How
?’

‘From what I’ve read about you in the newspapers over the past few years. You seem to have a reputation for stubbornness and determination… you certainly keep going after the Tories, keep
them
on their toes in the House of Commons, don’t you?’

He grinned, drew on his cigarette. ‘That’s the duty of members of the shadow cabinet… to keep the opposition unnerved, off-balance, you know.’

Miles leaned back in the chair, studied her face thoughtfully. ‘I meant what I said at Hadley—those photographs I’ve seen of you in the papers and magazines definitely do
not
do you justice. Far too grainy in the papers particularly, and they make you look older.’ He paused, then asked, ‘How old
are
you, Christina?’

‘I was twenty-five in May.’

He was surprised. He had thought she was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Not that she looked it, but there was her enormous success as a
couturière
to consider; also, she had a certain reserve in her manner, a caution, a prudence almost, and these things suggested maturity to him somehow.
Twenty-five
. She was so young really, just a girl.

Miles said, ‘I’m much older than you—I’m thirty-eight.’

‘Forty.’

He threw back his head and roared.

Christina sat back, gazing at him, her eyes filled with mischief.

‘Well, well, well, how’s that for a small display of male vanity? And how did you know my real age? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it mentioned in the newspapers, at least not lately.’

She had gone to the library and looked him up in one of the political reference books, but she had no intention of admitting this. So she lied, ‘I think Jane must have told me.’

‘Oh yes, of course, my sister is very friendly with Dulcie. But then you know that, since it was Dulcie who introduced Susan to you—and your gorgeous clothes.’ He poured more champagne into their glasses, continued, ‘You’ve done awfully well in your career as a fashion designer and become quite a celebrity too—and all in a very short few years. I admire women of accomplishment and brains… I want to know all about you and how you did it, Christina. Will you tell me?’

‘Yes, if you really want to hear.’

‘I most certainly do.’

She kept her recital succinct, recounting her years of growing up in Yorkshire, meeting Jane at the Royal College of Art, and then she told him about her decision to become a
couturière
. But she did not reveal her real reason for giving up painting, preferred to let him think that she had done so because fashion-designing was her first love.

Fifteen minutes later she finished, ‘There, you have it all in a nutshell.’ She reached for her glass, took a long swallow of champagne.

‘It’s been a meteoric rise. I salute you,’ he said, giving her a look of sincere admiration. He had enjoyed listening
to her. She had a pleasant, well-modulated voice, and suddenly he was feeling curiously soothed. Perhaps this was because he knew she was his captive for the next few hours, and a lot could happen in that time.

Christina smiled at him, said, ‘Now it’s
your
turn to tell me all about
you
, Miles.’ What she had read in reference books had been scanty at best, and she wanted to know as much as possible about him.

‘There’s nothing very exciting to tell,’ Miles said, with a shrug, a small smile. ‘I was born in London. Grew up there and in Suffolk. Went to Eton, Oxford, studied law, practised as a barrister for a short while. Preferred politics, you know. Won my first election when I was twenty-seven. Became a Member of Parliament, and have managed to keep my constituency in Manchester over the years. Very loyal voters, fortunately. My parents are still alive, thank God, and I have just the one sister. No hobbies, no interests really, other than politics. I love it, it’s my life, actually.’ He stubbed out his cigarette, lifted his glass. ‘That’s
my
potted biography. Rather a dull chap, wouldn’t you say?’

She shook her head. ‘Quite the contrary,’ Christina answered and thought: But he didn’t mention his wife.

As if he had read her mind Miles brought his head closer to hers, fixed her with a hard stare and his voice was low, suddenly intense, when he said, ‘Oh, and by the way, I’m separated from my wife.’

‘I know you are.’

‘Jane told you?’

‘No, I saw an item in William Hickey’s column in the
Daily Express
—when you became estranged.’

‘But that was two years ago.’ He gave her an astonished look. ‘Isn’t that odd—we’ve both read so much about
each other and remembered it.’ He stopped; his mouth twitched with hidden amusement. ‘Do you think it signifies something special?’ he asked in a teasing tone.

‘Yes, that we both have excellent memories for the rubbish we read in the gossip columns.’

Miles grinned, enjoying her more than ever, then reached out and took her hand in both of his. ‘Oh, I think it’s more than that,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll tell you later.’ He motioned to the waiter, reached inside his jacket for his wallet. ‘I think perhaps we ought to go out to the garden for dinner. I don’t want to lose the table.’

The tension that had eased out of him in the bar took hold of him again during dinner.

It happened so unexpectedly he was startled, and to his amazement he thought his hand was going to shake. He put down his fork, sat back, looked across at her.

There was a hurricane lamp on the table between them and in the flickering light of the candle her face had taken on a mysterious cast; as she moved slightly a shadow obscured her mouth. He wanted to kiss that mouth, crush it under his own, take her to him, love her with all the strength of his body. He wondered why they were squandering their time here in the restaurant.

Christina reached for her glass of Montrachet, took a sip, regarded Miles over the rim, feeling the potency of his presence more than ever. Apart from being charismatic and charming, he was an elegantly dressed man and this pleased her. She studied him surreptitiously, thinking how well he looked in the chalk-stripe grey suit and the pale blue shirt that emphasized the colour of his eyes.

Suddenly she saw those mesmeric eyes change, darken, as if he was troubled, and a fretful expression flicked onto his narrow, intelligent face; his mouth tightened noticeably.

What was wrong? Did he now regret his actions? Was
he sorry he had flown to Paris after all? Dismay lodged in the pit of her stomach. What if he said a polite good-night to her at the end of the evening and left it at that? Perhaps she had imagined that look in his eyes at Hadley Court and earlier this evening in the bar. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking on her part. She didn’t want him to leave her alone after dinner. She wanted to be with him.
She wanted him
.

Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, asked, ‘Is there something wrong, Miles?’

‘No, of course not,’ he exclaimed, rousing himself, pushing aside his erotic thoughts of her. He picked up his glass, drank, then asked, ‘Whatever made you think there was?’

‘You looked distressed—’ she blurted out and stopped, stared at him, saw the amusement crossing his face.

‘Did I?’ He put his glass down, took a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ He looked at her inquiringly, then went on, ‘I’m afraid I’m not very hungry.’

‘Neither am I.’

‘So I notice,’ he murmured as he glanced at her plate. She had merely toyed with the veal medallions as he had himself; she had barely eaten a mouthful.

Now Miles lifted his head. His eyes settled on her eyes. And he saw something in them that brought him up with a start. There was a new awareness of him in them and a sexuality reflected there as well. He had always known she was interested in him. He had seen that quickening curiosity mixed with speculation illuminate her face at Hadley Court. But was she feeling exactly what he was feeling? Could it be that she desired him as much as he desired her?

Miles bent forward and said in the quietest of voices,
without preamble, ‘When you get to know me better, you’ll soon discover that I can be brutally frank, but at least you’ll always know exactly where you stand with me. I want to be frank now, to say this to you… let’s not be juvenile about tonight. We’re both adults and you know as well as I do why I came to see you in Paris.’ He reached across the table, gripped her hand tightly. ‘I want to be with you, Christie, to hold you in my arms, to make love
to
you and
with
you. Do you want me in that way?’

‘Yes, Miles, I do,’ she whispered.

‘Then I don’t think we should torture ourselves any longer. Let me get the bill and we’ll get out of here.’

***

He took her in his arms the moment they entered her suite, pushing the door closed with his foot.

Drawing her to him roughly, he brought his mouth down hard on hers and kissed her passionately, parted her lips, pushed his tongue in her mouth, began to savour hers. Then he tightened his hold so that she was welded against the hardness of his growing erection and ran his hand over her shoulders and her back and onto her buttocks.

Her arms were around his neck. She was returning his kisses with an ardour that was as fervent as his, and she let her tongue slip under his. She felt a shiver run through him as she did.

Christina thought she was dissolving into Miles, becoming part of him, and she held onto him tightly, afraid that her legs were going to buckle. And then unexpectedly he broke away from her and lifted her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

The bed was huge and the sheets gleamed whitely in the corridor of light streaming in from the sitting room.
He laid her on it, took off his jacket, flung it on a chair, kicked off his shoes.

As he took a step towards the bed she opened her arms to him and he saw the intensity and longing on her face and his heart leapt with anticipation and excitement. He lay down on the bed next to her. Again she opened her arms to him and he came into them, embracing her, pressing her tightly to his chest.

‘Christie, oh Christie,’ he said against her neck. ‘I want you so much. I’ve ached for you since the night I saw you on Ralph’s terrace.’

‘Oh Miles, I know, I want
you
, I’ve longed for
you
…’

He raised himself on one elbow, looked down into her face, touched her cheek gently. He gave her a searching look, murmured, ‘Oh darling, if only you knew how much you’ve haunted me.’ He kissed her. It was a long, slow, melting kiss. She yielded her mouth up to his demands. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and he felt the ecstasy of their prolonged kiss shoot down to the pit of his stomach. Every one of his senses strained towards her. Possession of her was the only thing that mattered to him at this moment.

With one hand, he caressed her face and her throat, then slid his fingers down the vee of her dress to touch her breast; and he experienced a thrilling sensation as he realized she was not wearing a bra.

He bent his head over her, parted the neckline, slipped his hand under her breast, lifted it out of the dress, took the hardening nipple in his mouth. He drew up her chiffon skirt, trailing one hand along her leg, finding the silky feel of her stocking erotic, exciting, and when his hand came to rest on the bare flesh of her thigh, he raised his head, sighed deeply, then put his mouth very gently on hers. His fingers came to their final resting place
between her legs and as they crept inside the silken pants he felt the moistness of her, knew that she truly yearned for him as passionately and as anxiously as he yearned for her.

Against her ear, he whispered, ‘Take your dress off, darling,’ and immediately he stood, began to shed his clothes.

Christina did the same, feeling quite unselfconscious in front of him. She was undressed first. She lay down on the bed, let her eyes rest on him as he came towards her. Miles had a lean, taut body, without an extra ounce of flesh on it, and she felt that athletic hardness, the strength of it, as he took her firmly in his arms and wrapped his long legs around her.

His hands went up into her hair, pulling out the pins, and once her hair was flowing freely around her face he slipped both his hands up into it, held her head very tightly between them, started to kiss her face and her neck and her mouth.