The Wrong Sister (20 page)

Night-insects cheeped and peeped. One of the small native owls repeated its ‘more-pork’ call over and over again from the trees closer to the Lodge.

She glided under a black velvet sky full of stars to the far edge of the terrace and leaned her elbows on the railing. The soft splashing of the ocean and occasional snuffling noises from restless sheep reached her across the quiet countryside. It was so still she even heard the distant rumble of a train rolling by several miles away, and the eerie wailing whistle as it approached a level crossing.

 
But she didn’t hear the soft pad of Christian’s bare feet until he was very close.
 

She gasped and stood taller at his sudden silent presence, then turned resolutely away to face the water again, hunching her shoulders against his intrusion.
 

“Couldn’t sleep, Blondie?”

She willed him to leave her alone, but knew if he did she’d probably reach out and pull him back again.

He gave a small, resigned laugh that stirred up all the emotions she’d been trying to suppress and stole the steel from her spine. “Me either. Now why could that be?”
 

He dropped a soft kiss on top of her tousled hair. Fiona trembled with hope and guilt—and the knowledge her resolve had finally packed its bags and left town.
 

His lips progressed down to her ear, nipping and nibbling, and then he set his hands on her hips as she stood, head bowed, unresisting. He stroked her through the soft fabric of her pale T-shirt.
 

“I saw you from the upstairs bathroom,” he continued huskily. “Thought I’d better come down and make sure you were okay.”

She was far from okay—but she couldn’t have pulled away to save her life. Christian was so close, so male, so nearly naked she had no resistance left.

Her first quick backward glance had slid over his long moonlight-washed torso. A dark bath-towel bound his narrow hips. One tug from her eager fingers was all it would take to peel it away. Her nails bit deep into her palms.

“It’s too hot to sleep,” she said in a strangled voice.

His hands continued to stroke softly, hypnotically, over her hips, tracing the curves that the fabric concealed. Her legs went weak as water.

“Because of you,” he said hoarsely, “I’ve just had my first cold shower in years. It didn’t work.”

He ran his slick tongue down toward her shoulder, and slid his fingers to cup her bottom, moving slowly lower until he hit bare skin.

“Christian...” she moaned, jerking at his touch.
 

“Sssshhhhh,” he soothed, fingers exploring her so gently she willed herself to relax and enjoy the deliciously sexy sensations threading their way up into the deepest recesses of her body.
 

Christian drew the T-shirt a little higher and then slipped his fingers underneath the fabric.

Fiona felt air whispering across the base of her spine. He bent and kissed her there—chastely at first, and then with hot, wet, open-mouthed possession.

The sensation nearly knocked her off her feet. She gasped, grabbed for the terrace railing, and leaned dizzily against it, grateful for the support it gave.

His hands ran down to her thighs and up over her bottom again. Then he parted her thighs and reached through to stroke softly over her slick folds. She clenched her teeth so she’d stay silent—the very quietness of his lovemaking was magic. His stealthy advance over her body summoned ripples of desire... washes of longing. She breathed in the scent of his recently showered skin, wanting to lick him, and bite him, and make him feel as good as she did.
 

“Feeling as hot and bothered as I am?” he whispered.

 
Hot, bothered, wet, desperate, desirous, flickering with sensation from my waist to my knees...craving you almost to the point of pain.
 

All of the above.

 
Her T-shirt continued its slow climb northward until her breasts were out in the sultry air. He gathered them into his palms, weighing, stroking...rubbing and pinching her tightly peaked nipples.

“Too sexy,” he murmured, kissing her between her shoulder blades. “They’re so soft and heavy when you’re bent over like this.” He continued to massage and pleasure her breasts until she could feel the aroused flesh of her groin expanding, reshaping, becoming exquisitely sensitive and slick to welcome him in.

Past resisting, she turned her face sideways and buried it against his upper arm, biting at him with a huge hungry gulp and a moan of frustration.

His hips brushed against hers. The plush texture of the towel whispered over her skin. Then he leaned into her harder, and the long ridge of his sex pressed against her, laid claim to her, promised untold pleasure.
 

“Take him until Tuesday,”
a little devil suggested.
 

Fiona tried to banish that from her super-heated brain, but it was a battle she was never going to win.

“Turn around.”
 

Christian pulled her to face him. Even in the darkness she could see his eyes were huge, his generous mouth unsmiling. He looked like a man at the very edge of his restraint. Did she look this desperate in return?
 

He tugged the T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto one of the outdoor chairs, then with fierce deliberation pulled her naked body against him and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss started softly, seductively...and grew in depth and savagery until they were glued together, breathless, panting, clawing at each other’s skin. Fiona had never felt so possessed—or so mad to possess in return.

She protested her loss as Christian ripped her hands away from him and forced them backwards to grip the railing.

“Stay like that—just like that.” His chest rose and fell with every deep straining breath. He reached out to cradle her breasts in his hands.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, bending to kiss and suckle until she whimpered with pleasure.

“No more waiting.” He dropped to his knees and brushed his mouth down her belly. “Open for me,” he murmured against her. His hands settled on her thighs and nudged them apart until she gave in with a moan of submission.
 

His soft laugh of triumph whispered over her skin as he claimed her in an outrageously greedy juicy kiss, and his tongue started to probe and slide and circle and flick.

She clung as though the railing was the last support on earth. And slowly the ecstasy gathered and built, rolling like thunder, stabbing dark and intense, until the exquisite contractions of her shattering climax sent her arching backwards, gasping his name over and over. One hand left the railing and fisted in his hair to pull him up into her arms.

She knew, even in her barely conscious state, there was no way to pretend this was casual.
 

This was deep.
 

She drowned in him, yearned to be inside his skin, inside his life.

Christian followed her impatient hand up and made to wrap his arms around her.

“No. Please.” She pulled his towel undone and held it wide. The light of the full moon light washed down into the small space between them, glistening on the moist tip of his long up-rearing cock.
 

Slowly, dragging in a deep breath of anticipation, she rose on tiptoe and drew him into position by tugging the ends of the towel. He nudged against her, teasing, sliding inside just a fraction, retreating again.

Fiona growled as he drew back.
 

Then Christian pushed his hard silky length all the way home with one long, slow, deep, potent thrust—murmuring her name, wrapping his arms around her, nuzzling blindly for her mouth again. Fiona felt the peace wash over her as they stood locked together, blissful. She was still gently pulsing deep inside.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Need a condom,” he groaned moments later, not daring to move. Her heat and wetness had him close to meltdown. “I’ve got some upstairs. From the machine in the Gents’ washroom at the Lodge.”

“
I’ve
got some
down
stairs. There’s a machine in the Ladies’ as well.”

He let out a sharp puff of laughter.
 

“And a bed would be nice,” she added, nipping his neck, sniffing at his skin as though he was edible.
 

“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Blondie?”

“I just thought...if I couldn’t resist you any longer...” She licked his shoulder between every few words “...that I should be prepared...in case. Downstairs is closer,” she encouraged. “Come to bed, Christian.”

Slowly, all of her fantasies were made real. Christian gave and took in equal measure, expecting her to do the same. He was gentle and demanding by turns, playful and generous, sensual to a degree she’d never imagined possible.
 

After a night of knife-edged passion, and sensations that made her thrash and moan and stifle her screams again and again, she found him resting on one elbow, looking down at her as she drowsed and finally slid awake to a golden morning.

He kissed the scar near her hairline, and drew back far enough to focus on her face. His long forefinger stroked tenderly over her eyebrow.

“Whatever the future throws at us, Blondie,
any
of it will be worth last night.”

Fiona nodded, drowning in the intensity of his gaze.

“But we’re in another world here,” she eventually protested. “This is not the real world, where people live by strict conventions and society’s rules. It won’t be so nice out there.” She bit her lip. “No-one will think this is okay. You know that—you and me together, and Jan so recently dead. No-one at all, Christian.”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll make the most of what we’ve been given until we have to leave.” Rising from the tumbled bed, he strolled to the wide-open terrace doors. “Must have had our minds on other things last night,” he said as he pulled the doors closed, drew the curtains across, and turned to her.
 

In the dim light, his big lean body looked breathtaking. Fiona’s eyes roamed down his taut torso to the urgent invitation of his dusky erection.
 

“Still night-time?” she inquired, stretching like a contented cat as he prowled toward her.

Christian glanced at his watch, abandoned on the chest beside the bed.

“Nicky will probably give us another half hour or so.” His eyes shone with sexy intent.
 

“Let’s hope she does.” Her body responded with deep warm wanting as she drank in the obvious readiness of his. “We could wear ourselves out in the next five days. Scorch the skin off each other. Five days is all we have before I go, but it might be all we need.”

“And if we need more than that?”

Fiona waved the enquiry aside with pretended nonchalance. “I’m leaving on Tuesday, Christian. It’s in my contract.”
 

Privately she marveled at the casual tone she’d dredged up from God-knows-where. How could she tear herself away from him now? This fascination went right back to the wedding day and that first electric melding of their bodies on the dance-floor. Not that she was willing to let him know that. He’d felt so right, so instantly desirable, even though he’d been totally off limits.
 

If she admitted she’d wanted him for years, it was huge treachery toward her sister, her parents, and her niece. But if she deserted him, she’d deprive herself of the long-ached-for joy that had swept her up with no regard for appropriate timing.
 

It was way more than sex now. She knew it was dark forbidden love.

Christian stood looking down at her.
 

Tuesday
, he thought, gut clenching.
 

They could both be dead by Tuesday. Dead from exhaustion or regret or recriminations. Or so desperate at the prospect of parting it would be as cruel as death, anyway.
 

He picked up another little foil packet and held it out toward her.
 

“We’ll worry about Tuesday when it rolls around, Blondie. Saddle me up now, and then you can ride.”

He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Fiona chose to accept the challenge of his out-thrust hand and ignored the shadows he knew must lurk in his eyes.

Later that morning he watched as she balanced Nicky on her hip and peered into the sunlit car he’d taken out of the garage so they could more easily stow everything inside.
 

“Is that the lot?” she asked. “Suntan lotion, rugs, drinks, nappies, swimsuits...”

“Got mine on.”

“Toys? Do we have enough?”

“We’re a traveling circus,” he complained in mock-despair.

“Sun umbrella? Hats?” she suggested.

“This should do us until lunchtime. I told Antoine that we’d call in for some of that risotto you liked so much last night. A tubful to bring back and share on the terrace.”

“You’ll spoil me for ship’s food.”
 

“That’s the general idea. I want you here, not half a world away.”

He cupped her face up and dropped a lingering kiss on her lips while she was unable to escape.

“MommaJan?” a small voice piped.

They broke apart.

“You shouldn’t kiss me in front of her,” Fiona remonstrated. She looked down at her niece. “No darling— MommaJan’s not here.”

“It’s Fiona,” Christian said. “You’ll get used to me kissing her, won’t you? Here’s one for you, too.” He lifted Nicky’s small hand and blew a tickly raspberry into her palm so she giggled and shrieked.
 

“Yona,” Nicky agreed, snuggling closer to Fiona whose face reflected all too clearly her feelings of guilt.

He sighed as he looked at them. It tore at his heart to see his daughter suffering like this. She’d lost her mother only a few weeks ago and was still far from settled. Lost Kathy, who’d seemed such a good choice but lasted hardly any time at all. Now she was cuddling up to Fiona—and Fiona would be gone in another few days.
 

Once again, she’d be deserted by the mother-substitute in her life. He had to do better by his tiny daughter—better than a woman who was leaving, better than a woman who might carry the same deadly disease as Jan. The thought of going through the terrible cycle of discovery, fear, hope, and eventual loss was too much to put Nicky through...too much to put himself through again.