Undone by the Star (17 page)

Ten minutes later, Alex flipped the omelette onto the waiting plates, accepted a cool glass of champagne and slipped onto the stool opposite Marc. He smiled and lifted the flute in a silent toast.

It was a “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” moment, Alex thought, stealing a glance at Marc. He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. She heard herself sigh. Marc looked up. “Happy?” he asked.

Alex nodded. “Very, this evening…this moment.”

Marc raised his glass to her. “Here’s to you, the newly-crowned CEO of The Sadler Hotel. Your debut has been a complete success.”

Alex adored Marc’s generosity of spirit, that he was pleased for her with no thought of hogging the spotlight for himself. Being a star had not spoiled Marc Daniels one iota, Alex realized. He could have promoted his own work, but hadn’t. She could have gladly fallen into his arms at this very moment, and never look back.

Instead, she chased a bit of omelette around on her plate and cleared her throat. “It was a bit tense when I thought I would be flying solo,” she said. “What was so important you couldn’t reschedule?”

“The most perfect setting ever,” Marc replied, putting down his fork in his enthusiasm. “I couldn’t risk losing it.” Alex felt an embarrassing twinge of jealousy, then quickly pushed it away. That he would be so elated by something other than her was a good thing.

“Fallowfield,” he went on, “was really playing hard to get. First the estate agent stands us up, and then the next morning the fog and drizzle is so heavy, I thought we’d never get there. In fact, we almost missed the gates. They’re completely overgrown. The rhododendrons, Douglas tells me, are taking over in Yorkshire.” Marc smiled at her, his eyes electric in the telling.

“The house is perfect. It must have been beautifully landscaped, but you’d need a bird’s eye view to see it. The whole place is just begging for someone to bring it to life again.”

Marc took another sip of champagne, then set it down and leaned toward her.

“When your grandmother asked me where I call home, I didn’t have an answer. But I felt a pull at Fallowfield, like the house was waiting for me.”

“Maybe it is,” said Alex.

Marc reached out and clasped her hand.

She squeezed his fingers in return and then they fell into silence, both aware they were at a pivotal point in their relationship. Bolts of unspoken desire shot between them.

“Why don’t I tidy up a bit and join you in the living room?” Marc offered as they took their last bites.

Alex slipped off her stool, kissing Marc lightly, teasingly, on the cheek as she passed. His fingers trailed across the satin of her dress, but he didn’t stop her.

Alex stepped into the room. The dimmed glow from the chandelier in the dining room made the empty space feel intimate, and there, on the mantelpiece was the scout. She paused and smiled. The little scout seemed a bit like an old friend now.

He stood next to the candles, their flames long and golden in the dim light. Marc must have lit them while she was preparing their omelette, recreating the night she’d shown up with the picnic basket from The Sadler. A shiver of anticipation left her trembling. The last time she’d been in this room, they had explored their growing feelings for each other, the desire that despite common sense, escalated to the breaking point.

All under the watchful eye of the dragoon.

Alex crossed the room and picked up the figure, loving the fine detail of his uniform. He’d become their mascot, in a way, marking the moments of their relationship, good and bad.

“Should I be jealous?” asked Marc coming to stand next to her.

“I was considering turning his face to the wall,” Alex admitted. “But he is on our side.”

“Nonetheless…,” Marc took the scout from her hand and repositioned him on the mantle. “This is a private affair.” The word hung in the air, charging the moment with possibilities. Alex stepped away, facing Marc. For a moment, she held his eyes with her own, and then slowly, deliberately, undid her skirt, letting it slide with a soft whisper to the floor. Cool air embraced her thighs, but heat suffused her, heart clamouring against her ribs. He smiled warmly and intimately into her eyes, then let his gaze drift down her semi-clothed body. She had never felt so desirable.

Time stood still. Then Marc reached out for her. She slipped her cold hand into his warm one. The dance began again. He raised her hand to his lips as she stepped away from the pool of silver at her feet. Marc drew her away, twirling her around slowly as though she were a ballerina in her corset and lace. Then with a slight pressure of his hand, Alex stopped with her back to him, filled with a yearning passion for the man she loved.

She was mesmerizingly beautiful, thought Marc, elegant, exquisite and more alive than any other woman he’d ever known. And she was his. He knew it by the way she stilled beneath his touch, trusting him, loving him, and so incredibly desirable, he could scarcely breathe.

He drew her against him, revelling in the lushness of her curves as she relaxed into the strength of his embrace.

Her breasts strained against the constraints of the bodice. He lowered his head to drift butterfly kisses along her neck and collarbone, teased by the delicate scent of bare skin. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist, cinching its span before roving upwards, slipping beneath the satiny material. Alex gasped and instinctively arched backwards, clinging to his neck like a woman drowning. Her excitement flooded Marc’s body with desire and he groaned. He had to slow down. He wanted her in his bed, but he wanted her in his heart even more. There could be no mistakes.

He felt Alex quiver as he relinquished his hold; his fingertips traced the delicate chain of her necklace against her flushed skin. “May I?” he asked softly.

“Please….”

She tipped her head forward. Loose tendrils of hair teased the slender length of her neck, brushing like silk against his fingers, bringing him to the brink, as he carefully removed her necklace and placed it on the mantelpiece.

Slowly, he reached for the pins she wore in her hair. Their aquamarine stones twinkled like tiny blue stars in the candlelight. One by one, measuring movements to heartbeats, Marc gently slid them out, and set them next to the necklace.

His fingers splayed against her neck, touch and tenderness, then as she looked over her shoulder at him with invitation on her lips, he reached for the zipper of her bodice.

His mouth was dry as he unhooked the top closure, and then ever so slowly slid the zipper down until he reached the small of her back.

She turned to face him, raising her hands to remove her earrings. The loosened straps of her gown moved with her, exposing the swell of her breasts and the lace garment beneath. She looked steadily into his eyes, her own reflecting the clear light of the candle flames.

Marc held out his hand for the last of her jewellery and set it beside the dragoon, all the while holding the heat of her gaze in his own.

“Are you sure?” His voice was husky.

She stepped against him, arms circling his neck. “Completely,” she whispered.

And as it was meant to be, he scooped her up in his arms and swept her from the room.

Alex drifted in and out of sleep, her mind awash with images of Marc…the twist of muscles along his shoulders as he reached for her, the stubble of his chin rasping against the side of her neck as he kissed her throat, the flat expanse of his belly as he rose above her. Her body throbbed….

Reluctantly, she fought her way to the surface, staying awake just long enough for her eyelids to flutter open, note the predawn light, and then close again.

She sighed. Something wasn’t quite right, but she didn’t care. She was warm and cozy, and it was way too early to get up. Besides, her dreams were so compellingly real, so perfect, that she could almost taste the salty musk of Marc’s skin. She wanted only to slip back into that bubble of warmth and unremitting desire.

Alex gave the duvet a tug. When it didn’t move, she muttered and wiggled her bottom to the middle of the bed where it was soft and comfy and…Alex’s eyes popped open…hard.

Flipping over like a fish on a line, she gaped at the man who had invaded and conquered all her dreams.

“Expecting someone else, were you?” Marc’s blue eyes lit with laughter. His bare arm snaked around her back, warm and heavy, and drew her close. “You couldn’t have forgotten me that fast,” he breathed. “In fact, I know you didn’t…unless those cute little moans I heard were already spoken for.”

“I didn’t!” Alex spluttered, knowing damn well she might have. She’d been so lost in the aftermath of their love making that anything was possible.

“You did,” teased Marc. “And you snuffled as well.”

Alex’s looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “What exactly do you mean ‘snuffled’?”

Marc’s whiskers tickled her ear. “A delicate snoring sound, known to be exhibited by the female of the species.”

“Really?”

“Truly.” With Marc lightly nipping her ear lobe, Alex’s right hand crept around behind him, and yanked on his pillow.

“Hey!” Marc clawed the air and rolled.

Alex swung her arm and whacked him with his own pillow. “Serves you right, you sexist….”

“What?” Laughing, Marc snatched the pillow from her hands.

“Movie star,” blurted Alex as she dove for the safety of the duvet.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Marc whipped off the duvet, and with a swift overhand, pummelled her back with the stolen pillow.

Seconds later, they tumbled into a shrieking mêlée of legs and arms, with feathers flying and passions rising.

Alex fell backward, laughing. And then everything stopped. On his knees above her, Marc gazed down at her, eyes alight with passion. He dropped the pillow over the side of the bed and with a groan settled down over her.

Arms reaching to encircle him, Alex shuddered with delight. Her dreams had been real.

When Alex woke again, the sky was awash with the pink glow of dawn. Instinctively she looked toward the centre of the bed, but it was empty.

Her perfect night was over. It was time to go.

For a moment she lay with her eyes closed, trying to recapture the elation of a few hours before, but she could hardly ignore the vacant spot beside her. She yawned widely, trying to settle her thrumming nerves, and scanned the barely furnished room. Other than this mattress, a couple of open suitcases, and a chair that doubled as a clothes hamper, Marc had added nothing.

Except her.

For now.

Knowing she should simply get up and get on with her day, Alex turned over instead and looked toward the soft sounds of his movements, feasting her eyes on her lover. He had pulled on a shirt, and was rummaging around in his case. “What are you doing?” she asked finally.

He looked over at her and smiled, strong cheekbones and deep eyes highlighted by the dawn glow. Despite herself, a curl of heat shot through her body.

“Looking for my tie.”

“Because?” She propped herself up on an elbow and wrapped the duvet tightly around herself.

“Got it!” Marc stood up and turned towards her. Alex swallowed hard. He was wearing nothing but his dress shirt from the night before. Which hung loosely at his sides. Showcasing his physique from top to bottom. The curl of heat became a twist of fire.

“I’m wearing my tux, thus providing the evidence that I am seeing you home after a celebrity after-party and a champagne breakfast. And you are wearing jewels and an evening gown…at least you will be after you get your lazy, but absolutely gorgeous, bottom out of my bed.”

He tossed his tie over his shoulder. “On the other hand,” he said as he advanced towards her, “you don’t ever have to go if you don’t want to.” He lowered himself on top of her covering her with his weight.

But as Alex splayed her hands over the breadth of his back, she felt her heart clench. He hadn’t said the words that she’d wanted to hear…but then neither had she.

And perhaps it was just as well; the shadow of yesterday’s conflicts between them was harsher in the cold light of day. Marc had made it in time, and had walked beside her on the red carpet, but only just – he’d chosen his work over a personal commitment to her. And how could she fault him when that had been her decision as well.

Still, she responded to his caress with abandon, amazed at how her body could totally ignore her doubting mind. “Aren’t you going back to Yorkshire?” she asked in a feeble attempt to get back on track.

“Eventually,” Marc murmured into her ear, “but I’m sure Douglas has everything in hand.” He kissed her one more time and propped himself back up, using a single finger to gently stroke along her collarbone. “You’ll love Fallowfield, Alex. It’s so different from London. The air is fresher for one thing, and the house is bursting with possibilities, and history.”

His enthusiasm was oozing out of every pore, and suddenly Alex felt increasingly threatened. Which was absolutely ridiculous considering how passionate she was about The Sadler. Marc had had to come to accept the demands of her new position, and at the very least, she owed him the same support. Because if he was as dedicated to his profession as she was to hers, committing to a relationship would be hard for them both.

But Alex always met a challenge head-on. Love wasn’t any different, was it? She pushed her worries away and relaxed in Marc’s arms. “I’ve called a cab,” he crooned. “We have about fifteen minutes.”

Nothing could have cleared her mind faster.

They were downstairs in twenty. Sitting in the backseat in their rumpled evening clothes, they held hands as the driver navigated the crush of early morning traffic.

It was slow going, but Marc didn’t mind. He would have been happy no matter how long it took, but he sensed the low twang of anxiety from the woman beside him. She had said she planned to head right to her flat and sleep until noon, but Marc knew that wouldn’t stop her from worrying about the upcoming board meeting or the myriad decisions she would have to make before the day was out. She had a career and responsibilities as did he.

And the closer they got to the hotel, the greater likelihood those responsibilities would cloud her thoughts and she would begin to distance herself.