Chapter Sixteen #2
Ismay was glorious in her pleasure. Watching her come apart in his arms was an exquisite, rare experience unequalled by any other.
He felt her legs tighten about him, her breath shortening as climax came to her, overwhelmed her as his own release pulsed through him—like an underwater volcano, the thought came to him briefly, unseen but no less explosive for its invisibility.
But she was all Vesuvius, visibly shaken, her pleasure on display for him.
Only, it wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t want to be a tourist in her life, glimpsing it for a short time and moving on, although that was the arrangement.
She unwrapped her legs and climbed down him.
‘Give me a moment on shore. I’ll set out lunch, and you can join me.
’ He watched her go, her body revealed to him as the water grew shallow, like Venus rising from the sea, the wet length of her hair hanging heavily down her back, the nip of her waist, the round globes of her derrière, her long legs that had been so recently tangled about him.
This afternoon had been breath-taking, thought-stealing, until he’d been left with one thought alone: He wanted this, wanted her. How did he make it last?
His eyes tracked her movements from the water.
On the beach, she wrapped herself in a blanket from the basket and set out their meal.
She waved for him when all was ready, and he waded ashore, his body conscious of hers, how she sat; legs crossed in the sand, her gaze riveted on him as he strode from the water.
He positively celebrated the sight of her aquamarine gaze going wide, feasting on him as if he was a god.
How heady that was! His past lovers had appreciated him.
There’d been compliments aplenty to affirm that he had skill in that department.
But this was more than appreciation. This was reverence, and that was a far more genuine commodity than appreciation.
Her eyes landed on his phallus, and it stirred, it too feeling the power of her adoration.
‘Perhaps I should ask you to shed your blanket. What is good for goose and all that,’ he teased, stretching out on the old quilt. ‘No wonder the basket was so heavy. You had two blankets in it.’ He grinned. ‘See anything you like?’
‘The prosciutto is fresh,’ she joked.
‘That’s not the only thing that is fresh, minx.’ Alistair lay down on his back, watching her cheeks heat as he put himself on full display.
‘I’m not sure who you mean by that reference.’ She leaned over, the blanket sliding off her shoulder, exposing a breast, as she piled prosciutto onto thick bread.
‘Dressed like that, you can fix me lunch any day.’ Alistair grinned. He liked the colour in her cheeks, the warmth in her smile and knowing that he was the cause of it.
‘Undressed like that, you can eat lunch with me any day,’ she parried.
‘How many days of such a treat do we have, Iz?’ He levered up on one arm and raised up a leg to keep his excitable cock from view. All joking aside, they needed to have a serious discussion. Perhaps it was best to have it here.
She turned hesitant. Of him or the conversation? Well, he’d known the conversation wouldn’t be easy. ‘Alistair.’ His name was a warning.
He held her gaze. ‘What happens when we leave here, Ismay?’
‘You will make an exorbitant wager on a long shot at Danton’s horse race and prove to my father we are too wild to wed. It is the plan. It is what we decided.’ But it took all her willpower to say it. He could see the struggle in her eyes. Today, temptation had ratcheted the stakes.
‘Is that what you still want?’ Was that what he still wanted?
Every day he felt that was less his answer, less his preference, and yet he wasn’t entirely sure what the future looked like, only that it didn’t look like leaving.
Perhaps he should have waited to discuss this when he knew.
‘We are the architects of our own plan. We invented it, it did not invent us. We can change it.’ She was using the plan as a shield, something to protect herself with, something to guard herself against him, them.
‘I did not make love with you on a beach to trap you, or to change the plan. You don’t owe me anything.
’ Is that what she thought? That this was an act of pity?
Of one-sided generosity on his part? ‘And I owe you nothing either,’ she added.
That stung all the more. She was definitely using the plan as a shield.
That last confirmed it. He could see her reasoning: she felt her heart was safe within the confines of an affair that could not last. This was a controlled environment with a set end.
It would appeal to the scientist in her and to the woman who’d had her tender heart broken.
He had empathy for that. It was not much different than his own three-month affairs and for much the same reason.
‘We have established there is some amicability between us that did not exist before, and that we would take these last two weeks and enjoy that. That is all,’ she said with a factual finality Alistair did not appreciate.
He would like to strangle Edward Ashford for leaving such a scar on a woman who had so much to give but now didn’t trust herself to give it.
Ashford had taught her to believe she was not as lovable as she was.
‘Yes to all of that, Ismay. We did decide that. Yes, we have explored what lies between us and discovered that perhaps it runs deeper than mere affability. Do you not think we owe it to ourselves to reconsider?’
‘Reconsider what? Reconsider how?’ she interrupted, despair edging her voice.
‘We are out of time, Alistair.’ Her gaze was in deadly earnest, steady and unwavering.
She tugged the blanket back up onto her shoulder.
‘Dichotomous thinking is usually viewed as a logical fallacy, but I do not believe that’s true in our case.
Either we move forward with a December wedding, or we force my parents to cry off the arranged engagement before the party.
Even now, I think the latter is the only option.
Thanks to our ruse, we are closer to it than any other option.
Already they are reconsidering their position. ’
‘What about extending the engagement? Maybe until spring?’ Alistair improvised. There was always middle ground if one looked hard enough for it. ‘We could argue we don’t know each other well enough.’ He tried for charm. She was wavering. ‘Time enough to reform me.’
‘And then what? We will still have the same decision to make and less ground to make it on. If you ostensibly reform, my parents won’t break the engagement.
We will have no honourable options,’ she countered, as if the option they had created at present was honourable, as if it was not based on a lie that was becoming more frayed by the day.
‘If it is all going to end, buying time doesn’t help us. ’
‘You mean it doesn’t help you.’ Alistair was swift to acknowledge. He would not let her hide from that.
She met him squarely. ‘I’ve made mistakes with men before, given my heart thinking the effort would be reciprocated. I do not intend to make that mistake again, certainly not within the confines of an arrangement that is designed to terminate,’ she argued softly but firmly.
Ah, so she was scared. Scared of him, scared of her feelings. Knowing that it would end was indeed her way of keeping them locked in a cage.
‘I’m not a mistake, Ismay.’ But what evidence could he give?
His whole life was one disappointment after another, not because he trailed failures behind him like a hobbling chain but because he trailed nothing behind him, had turned his hand to nothing significant beyond the cream cartel.
He’d never resented that blank slate so much as he did right now.
He was unfettered, unanchored, and it meant he had nothing to show for himself.
‘No! How could you be a mistake? You’re handsome and kind, and everyone in any room you walk into wants to know you.
I’m the mistake. I go too far. I don’t know when to stop.
I won’t make you happy, Alistair, and I couldn’t bear knowing that, not when I care so very much.
My reticence is not because I don’t care but because I do.
It’s best to stick to the plan, to let you go when the time comes while I can still stand it. ’
He reached for her then, taking her hand. ‘It’s all right to be scared, Iz. Goodness knows I didn’t expect to feel this way.’
She bristled at that, as if they were young again and he’d challenged her to a dare. ‘I’m not scared, Alistair. I am being honest.’
‘Shh.’ He pressed a finger to her lips. ‘I think it’s time for dessert.
’ He would not win his argument with words.
Far better to wage this battle with kisses.
She wasn’t opposed to him, to changing the plan, she was just frightened to do it.
He had to convince her otherwise, just as soon as he figured out what the new plan was.
For the first time, he had something, someone, to fight for.