Her Last Night of Innocence (9 page)

The wooden balcony was icy beneath her bare feet. The bitter air made her cheeks tingle and the inside of her nose sting as she breathed in a great lungful of it. As the darkness swirled behind her closed eyelids every inch of her skin seemed suddenly exquisitely sensitive, brought alive by the sharp cold, the anticipation of his touch.

‘OK, you can look now.’

Cristiano’s voice beside her was throaty and hushed. Goosebumps rose on her arms. For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, wanting to stretch out the magic, make it last for ever.

But nothing lasts for ever, she thought with a barb of sorrow, and opened her eyes.

In the rays of the dying sun the mountains looked like fire opals, as if they weren’t simply reflecting the light but had absorbed it and were glowing from within. The sky was a livid slash of orange, overlaid with swollen clouds of purple, black and yellow, like a bruise. It felt as if they were the only people left in the world.

‘It’s…incredible,’ she breathed, turning to look at him.

And then she noticed the square wood-panelled pool built into the balcony just beyond the doors to the bedroom. Steam was rising and swirling in the frozen air from the surface of its azure water. She gasped, bringing her hand up to her mouth as her eyes widened in surprise and delight.

‘A hot tub?’

‘Yes.’ He followed her over to it and wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing his lips to her neck and murmuring, ‘Do you want to get undressed before you get in this time? Or would you like me to take you in fully clothed again?’

A huge, shuddering ache of desire went through her, making her slump helplessly against his hard chest. She gave a low moan, tilting her head sideways to expose her neck to the caress of his lips, almost fainting with longing as his hand slipped beneath her loose top and came to rest on her bare midriff.

‘We can’t undress out here…’ she protested weakly. ‘We’ll freeze…’

His low, sexy laugh sent another tide of slippery lust gushing through her.

‘Not if we do it quickly. And I promise you won’t feel the cold at all in a minute.’

She gave a high shriek as he took hold of the hem of her top and pulled it swiftly over her head. The cold rushed over
her body, stealing her breath, making her breasts throb and her nipples harden and tingle.

Or was that nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the fact that already Cristiano had undone her jeans and was pulling them down over her hips?

His hands were warm on her thighs, and she could feel the heat from his body radiating against her back. Stepping impatiently out of her jeans, she twisted round in his arms, suddenly desperate to feel his naked skin against hers. Finding his mouth with hers, she pushed up his T-shirt with one hand whilst feeling for the button of his trousers with the other.

The biting cold and the urgency of her need made her clumsy, but he was there, finishing what she’d started, yanking off his own clothes. If her mouth hadn’t been locked on his Kate would have shouted with triumph as he stooped and swept her up into his arms. Every inch of her was crying out for him, and as he lowered her down into the silken steaming water she couldn’t suppress a violent shiver of bliss.

There was a seat around the edge of the pool, beneath the water. As Cristiano sat on it Kate detached her lips from his and shifted her position, so that she was facing him, straddling his legs, feeling his erection against the softness of her inner thigh.

‘Kate…’

She stilled, her breath catching. Behind him the sunset was as gaudy and improbable as a painted ceiling in some baroque temple, and its fiery glow burnished his dark hair and made his beautiful torso look as if it had been cast in beaten copper. His face was in shadow, but his eyes gleamed—dark and liquid with want.

Wanting
her
. Now.

The knowledge was powerful enough, erotic enough, to make her insides tighten with the beginnings of one of the wrenching, devouring orgasms he gave her. She was torn between wanting to impale herself on him, screaming out her joy and need, and wanting to take it slowly, savouring every moment.

There weren’t many left, and she would have to feed on them for a lifetime.

Water cascaded from her body as she hitched herself up on her knees, leaning into him, opening up to him. Cristiano’s eyelids flickered for a second as beneath the water she took hold of his throbbing erection and held it for a quivering moment, before lowering herself onto him, inch by inch.

Their gazes were locked, mesmerised. Steam curled around them, enclosing them in a hazy, enchanted place that was quite separate from the rest of the alpine landscape with its sharp, clear air. Quite separate from anywhere Cristiano had ever known. His hands held her bottom as her hips moved and her softness enclosed him—hot and tight, her body as wet on the inside as it was on the outside. Her blue gaze closed around him, as warm and silky as the water, sucking him in.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders and her lips parted as he felt the first spasms of her orgasm. It almost undid him, rocking the control that was the foundation of everything he did to its very core. Her eyes slid out of focus and he held her tighter, gathering her closer to him as her head tipped backwards and she gave a shivering gasp.

The convulsive spasms of her orgasm ricocheted through him, pushing him to the edge of a vortex, and the next moment he felt as if he was plummeting downwards, blackness enfolding him, as he spilled into her with a low, fierce moan.

The surface of the water grew gradually flat and glassy again, and the fire in the mountains died and they receded into the night—shadowy icebergs against a starry sky. Cradling her in his arms, Cristiano felt a curious peace. As if he never had to prove anything again. As if he had come home and was the man he’d always wanted to be.

S
OMEWHERE
a phone was ringing.

Kate’s eyes flew open and she sat up, disentangling herself from Cristiano’s embrace as she looked around dazedly. It was early—the dirty yellowish light of a sunless dawn filled the room like fog, and beyond the window the mountains were barely distinguishable against the colourless sky.

The phone rang again—a synthesised burst of electronic noise that was made to sound like the ring of an old fashioned telephone. Adrenaline burst through Kate’s bloodstream, and her heart was battering against her ribs as she got out of bed, picking up a towel from the floor and wrapping it around her. It was cold and damp.

‘What’s the matter?’

From the bed, Cristiano’s voice was gravelly with sleep.

‘My phone,’ Kate muttered, rummaging through the clothes in her bag, her trembling fingers tangling in cool blue satin as she searched for it. ‘I can’t find it.’

The ringing continued, exasperatingly distant.

Getting out of bed in one lithe, liquid movement, Cristiano loped to the doors onto the balcony and pulled them open, letting in a blast of snow and bitter air. For a split second some abstract part of Kate’s brain registered the aesthetic perfection of the snapshot image—his warm butterscotch coloured skin standing out against the stark monochrome of the landscape, his sculpted frame every bit as powerful and magnificent as the mountains. And as distant.

He picked up her jeans from the floor, where she had stepped out of them last night. Immediately the electronic noise got louder. Slipping the phone from the pocket, he glanced at the screen before holding it out to her. His eyes were hooded and opaque.

‘Someone called Dominic.’

‘Oh, God.’

The blood drained downwards, leaving her feel hollowed-out and dizzy with dread. Her hand was shaking so much that it took three attempts to hit the button to accept the call. Muttering vague pleas under her breath, she pressed it to her ear, vaguely aware of Cristiano pulling on jeans and walking past her to the door, but too dazed with alarm to register the careful blankness of his expression.

‘Dominic! Is everything—’ Her throat was full of sand, and she had to swallow awkwardly before continuing. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Kate, sweetheart—now, please don’t panic.’

The words were reassuring enough, but the tone in which he spoke them was anything but. There was no trace of its usual ironic, bantering note, and in its place was a gentle gravity that made the ground tilt beneath her feet.

‘What is it?’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘It’s Alexander, isn’t it? Is he ill?’

‘It’s probably nothing,’ Dominic replied quickly. ‘But he’s a bit off-colour. He had a bit of a temperature yesterday, and was complaining of a headache, and then he was sick in the night.’

‘Oh…’ It was an exhalation of relief. She felt like the damsel tied to the railway tracks in the old black-and-white movies, when the train driver had put the brakes on just in time. ‘He’ll probably be lots better this morning. Sometimes these stomach bugs are really horrible, but they only last a few—’

Very gently, Dominic cut her off. ‘Kate, honey, it doesn’t look like it’s a stomach bug. We’ve brought him into hospital just in case.’

‘Hospital?’ She bit her lip against a whimper of distress. ‘Oh, God, Dominic, what for? Please—just tell me what’s happening.’

‘They’re doing some tests…just to be on the safe side…to rule out anything serious.’

‘Serious?’ Kate echoed numbly. The train was gathering speed again, bearing down on her. ‘What kind of serious?’

There was a pause. Wrapped in the damp towel, Kate suddenly realised she was shaking violently.

‘Meningitis.’

The room went black. A whooshing sound filled her head. The train hit. She swayed, groping blindly behind her for the edge of the bed.

‘Oh, God,’ she breathed hoarsely. ‘Oh, God.’

‘Sweetheart, please—don’t panic,’ Dominic begged. ‘He’s completely stable at the moment, and he’s in absolutely the right place. Honestly—the doctors are totally in control. It’s just a question of finding out exactly what it is so they can start him on the right antibiotics.’

Kate stood up again, staggering forward and starting to stuff the clothes that were spilling out of her bag back in. ‘I should be there,’ she whispered. ‘I have to be with him.’

‘Of course. I knew you’d want to be. I’ve managed to book you on a flight from Nice this morning at nine. That means you’re going to have to get a move on, darling. Can you do that?’

‘Yes.’ The jeans that had been left out on the balcony all night were soaking wet. She bundled them up and shoved them into the bag anyway. ‘Nice. Nine a.m. I just have to…’ She straightened up, pressing her hand to her head as she remembered the long drive northwards the other night. ‘Oh, God, I don’t know…’

‘Kate, it’s going to be fine,’ Dominic said firmly, as if he was talking to a child. ‘You are absolutely
not
to do your usual “worst-case scenario” on this—do you hear me? Telling you on the phone makes it all sound much worse than it is—you’ll see when you get here. Alexander’s feeling a bit rough, and
he wants his mummy, but he’s going to be all right so please,
please
don’t worry.’

‘No. Right.’ Going into the bathroom for her toothbrush, Kate caught sight of her face in the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were two dark pools in a face that was waxen with horror.

‘G-give him my love, won’t you?’ She watched her bloodless lips form the words. ‘Tell him I—’

She stalled as the panic closed up her throat and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes.

‘You can tell him yourself in a few hours,’ Dominic said gently. ‘I’ll see you at the airport.’

Nodding mutely, Kate let the phone fall from her ear and closed her eyes as the tears ran down her cheeks. Alexander’s face swam in the darkness in her head: his smile, and the way it made dimples show in cheeks that were as smooth and brown as caramel, his dark, dark, expressive eyes…

‘Here.’

She jerked her head up and found herself looking straight into another pair of bitter-chocolate-coloured eyes. Cristiano was standing in front of her, holding out a mug of steaming coffee.

‘Thank you.’ She took it quickly and ducked past him, out of the confined space of the bathroom, and back into the bedroom where she started to pull things out of her bag again, looking for something to wear.

‘I have to get home.’

‘So I gathered.’ He was leaning against the doorframe, his voice cool and neutral.

Kate’s teeth were chattering. ‘I need to get to Nice airport. My flight is at nine, so I need to check in at eight, which means…’ She went to look at her watch, blinking stupidly at her wrist for a moment before she realised she wasn’t wearing it.

Picking it up from the bedside table, Cristiano handed it to her. His face was shadowed with stubble, which gave a
sexy, dishevelled edge to his beauty—or would have done if it wasn’t for the mask-like blankness of his expression.

‘Impossible, I’m afraid. We’re at least five hours from Nice.’

‘But I have to get there,’ she gasped, feeling as if she was hanging by the slenderest thread over a vast, dark, churning abyss. ‘My
son
is in hospital!’

Her anguished outburst was interrupted by the sound of Cristiano’s mobile phone. Answering it, he turned away, talking in husky, rapid Italian that at any other time would have made Kate’s blood quicken. Now she could feel nothing but agony at his indifference. Vaguely she wondered if he was talking to a woman—making arrangements for a replacement as soon as she was gone.

This was the man she had left her son behind for, she thought in horror. He had his back to her, his head bent, and as she looked at his broad bronzed shoulders, the clearly defined muscles beneath the satin skin, she felt as if her heart had been torn from inside her and thrown out into the snow. She had known that there would be no happy-ever-after for them, but she’d thought that the last twenty-four hours had brought some sort of closeness between them…

It was just sex, she thought hollowly. And to her that meant closeness, but to him it meant nothing.

She stumbled forward, grabbing her bag and reaching into it for something to wear. Because her jeans were wet, that just left a knee-length black dress that she had brought in case they went somewhere smart for lunch in Monaco. Putting it on, she felt as if she was going to a funeral.

Oh, please, no…

She had to press her hand to her mouth to stop herself crying out as panic winded her. She had to get home. She longed for Alexander with a desperation that felt like knives in her flesh.

Cristiano finished his conversation. She was aware of him turning back to face her, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead she busied herself with putting on the boots she
had been wearing when she’d arrived here, beneath the blue satin dress.

It seemed like a thousand years ago.

‘That was Suki,’ Cristiano said tonelessly from the doorway. ‘The good news is that she’s arranged a private jet from Lyon airport.’

Kate jerked her head up, not quite trusting herself to have understood what he was saying. ‘Wh-what? You mean I
am
going home this morning?’

‘The plane will be waiting for you. You’ll save time on check-in, so in the end the journey will probably end up being quicker than it would have been flying out of Nice.’

‘Thank you.’ It was a cracked whisper. Cautious hope and gratitude were beginning to flutter inside her. ‘What’s the bad news?’

Cristiano’s ironic smile wrenched at her ravaged heart. ‘The weather’s too bad for a helicopter transfer. I’m afraid I’m going to have to drive you.’

The magnificent flaming skies of last night were a distant memory—like something from a dream. Overnight the weather had done an alarming
volte face
, and the new day was one of dense iron-grey fog that blanketed the mountains and turned the landscape into a gloomy monochrome oil painting.

Not only was it grim to look at, it was lethal too. Cristiano steered the car down the mountainside with rigid, tense-jawed focus. Yesterday’s sun had thawed the top layer of snow, which had then frozen again overnight, turning the roads to glass. Not exactly the kind of terrain the Campano had been designed to handle, but with the snow chains it was coping surprisingly well.

Which just went to show that appearances could be deceptive, Cristiano thought bitterly. He’d thought
he
was the one with things to hide, but all the time she had been keeping some fairly major secrets of her own.

‘How old is your son?’

She started slightly at the directness of the question. Or maybe it was the tone of his voice, which sounded harsher than he’d intended in the silence of the car.

‘Just three.’

‘And are you still married to Dominic?’

He was aware of her turning her head to look at him. Glancing across, he saw that her blue eyes were wide and bewildered in her ashen face. ‘Dominic? No…God, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Dominic’s not his father, he’s my boss, and he and his wife Lizzie are my friends. Their daughter is a similar age to Alexander. He was staying with them while I—’

She stopped, her mouth open, her expression suddenly stricken.

‘This isn’t your fault,’ Cristiano said harshly, wondering why he felt so relieved that this Dominic person wasn’t the father of her child. Someone was, and he couldn’t think of any reason why the identity of that person should matter to him. It was the fact that she had a child that was important, he thought savagely. The fact that she was a
mother
. You didn’t screw around with women who had children. Children meant involvement. Commitment. And he didn’t do commitment.

Dio
, why the hell did he feel as if he was trying to convince himself?

Automatically he pulled out to overtake the line of cars in front, and made use of the Campano’s impressive acceleration. It was only as he roared away that he remembered her fear of speed.

‘Do you want me to slow down?’

She shook her head, looking out of the window at the dingy landscape. ‘No, please…I just want to get there.’ They were lower down now, but the fog still lay heavily—a grimy curtain shutting out the mountains in the distance. The roads were busier now, with people going to work on an ordinary day. Queues of traffic were building up behind unhurried tourists in camper vans.

‘It’s stupid, isn’t it?’ Kate said in a low, aching voice. ‘I
wasted all that time being scared of things that never happened. Plane crashes and freak accidents. I wanted to remake the world for him and make it safe. And now this…’ She took a little gasping breath. ‘I should have stayed with him. I should never have left.’

The tendons in Cristiano’s forearms ached with tension from gripping the steering wheel. ‘Don’t say that.’ The words were forced from between his gritted teeth. ‘Guilt just makes everything worse.’

He was aware of her turning towards him again, and had to force himself to keep his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Experience.’

The needle edged round the speedometer. Beside him he sensed her stillness, as if she was hardly breathing, just waiting for him to elaborate. Acid burned in his chest. She’d be waiting a long time—he’d never told anyone about his past, and he didn’t intend to start now. His own private condemnation was hard enough to bear, without having the judgment of others to deal with as well.

The wail of a siren cut through his thoughts. Cursing quietly, Cristiano checked the rearview mirror and saw a police car some distance behind, lights flashing as it pulled out to pass the line of traffic and catch them up. He looked down at the speedometer and swore again.

It was a stupid mistake to make. The Campano was ostentatious enough to attract police attention if it was being driven by a ninety-year-old learner. He shouldn’t have pushed his luck.

Pulling in to the side of the road, he got out of the car. The noise of the siren whined into silence as the police car came to a halt behind them, but the lights stayed on, sliding crazily over the polished wood of the dashboard. In a kind of frozen stupor Kate watched them until she felt dazzled and dizzy.