Silk. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ she was happy? Could it really be in any doubt?

      ‘Oh, yes. Yes, thank you,’ Amber responded fervently.

      How could she not be thrilled at the thought of spending the summer in the South of France, and with Beth, her best friend in the whole world?

      She gave Beth a look of gratitude, which Beth returned with an excited smile.

      The countess went on to inform Amber that their party was going to include Beth’s father, the earl, and their eldest son, Henry, Viscount Hollowes, both of whom were currently in Australia where, as Beth had already told Amber, her father had business interests in a sheep station and in mining. They would also be joined by the nursery party, comprising Beth’s two younger brothers and the baby of the family, her sister, Arabella, and that they would be staying in Juan-les-Pins where the earl was renting a villa for the summer.

      ‘I’m so happy that you’ll be coming to the South of France with us,’ Beth confided excitedly to Amber later over luncheon. ‘It’s going to be such fun.’

      ‘Yes,’ Amber agreed.

      She could hardly take it in that she was to visit the South of France, the haunt of so many famous artists. She couldn’t wait to see the places and the colours that inspired them. It would be a relief not to be constantly looking over her shoulder to see if she could see Lord Robert too.

      The South of France. How very lucky she was to have such a good friend as Beth and how grateful she was to the countess for inviting her to join them.

      ‘But you said you were going to take me somewhere exciting, not some dingy horrid hotel in Brighton,’ Louise objected, taking several nervy drags on her cigarette.

      They were standing in the bedroom of the hotel and although she had known all along what George had in mind, now that she was confronted with the unattractive reality of their surroundings, defying her mother for the delicious thrill of taking such a dangerous risk no longer seemed either exciting or glamorous. And, in fact, somehow George himself no longer cut the dashing figure here in these drab surroundings as he had done in the prim drawing rooms of Mayfair and the correspondingly louche nightclubs.

      In fact, if she was honest with herself, what Louise actually felt right now was not excitement but distaste. She had hated the way the man in reception had smirked and looked her over when George had registered them as Mr and Mrs Smith, but she had been too shocked by the fact that he had done so to object.

      When George had suggested driving her down to Brighton for ‘something special at a discreet little place I know’, Louise had envisaged herself sweeping into a glamorous establishment where heads would turn admiringly in her direction and suave handsome men would leave their companions immediately to demand an introduction to her.

      They would have lunch – with champagne, of course – and then cocktails in a piano bar.

      Carelessly Louise had ignored the small problem of how she was going to manage to stay out so late without explaining her absence to her mother.

      Now, faced with a bedroom smaller than her maid’s at home, its wallpaper peeling, and the smell of damp and greasy cooking pervading everything, the issue of her mother’s likely reaction to her absence suddenly became vitally important.

      ‘I really can’t stay,’ she told George, affecting insouciance. ‘I had no idea it would take us so long to get here. Mummy will be simply furious if I’m not back in time for cocktails at the Edales’.’

      ‘Really?’ There was a look in George’s eyes that warned Louise he was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

      How exciting. And how powerful it made her feel to know that he wanted her so much.

      ‘Yes, I want you to take me home now,’ she told him.

      ‘And I want – you,’ George responded.

      Louise tried to sidestep him as he came towards her but the bedroom was too small and all he had to do to throw her down on the bed was take hold of her arms and force her backwards.

      ‘No, George. You mustn’t,’ Louise protested, feigning anger. This was just as she had imagined it would be: the delicious feeling of power and wantonness, the knowledge that George was overwhelmed by his desire for her. If she could do that to George then how much more easily would she be able to manipulate someone older – and richer. Avarice gleamed in her eyes.

      ‘It’s too late to play teasing games now, Lou,’ George warned her. ‘You’ve been coming on to me for weeks, and you know it. Stop worrying, you’re going to love it. Your kind always does. Careful, you don’t want me to go tearing that pretty blouse you’re wearing, do you? What would Mummy say?’

      She was genuinely angry now – she hadn’t planned for things to go this far. Teasing George was one thing, actually letting him do ‘it’ was another.

      Somehow Louise managed to fight him off and push her way past him to the door, but it was locked and whilst she struggled helplessly with it he caught hold of her, dragging her back to the bed.

      This definitely wasn’t what she wanted or how things were supposed to be. George was tugging at her clothes, undressing her swiftly and expertly, despite her protests and struggles, until all she was wearing was her pale pink silk chemise and her matching French knickers with their lacy edging.

      Automatically when George let go of her and stood up to remove his own clothes, she lifted her hands to cross them over her breasts. She wasn’t going to let him know that she was apprehensive. Men like George didn’t feel any sympathy for women who cried and pleaded; a woman had to stand up to a man like George. Louise knew that instinctively.

      She might be nervous but she was still curious enough to risk a look at him. She hadn’t seen a man naked before, not properly, although she was familiar with the feel of that thick jut of flesh rearing up in swollen urgency, having allowed George to put her hand on it on several occasions, including one time when he had unbuttoned his trousers and pushed her hand inside his underwear to really touch ‘it’.

      She hadn’t expected that it would look so ugly, nor have that awkward-looking pouch of flesh hanging beneath it.

      ‘Like what you see?’ George asked. ‘Want a closer inspection?’

      She tried to look nonchalant as she gave a small shrug, but she was wasting her time, she realised, because George was more interested in pushing down the straps of her camisole to bare her breasts, before cupping them in his hands and then kneading them and tugging almost painfully on her nipples.

      She relaxed a bit when he started to kiss her – she was, after all, on familiar territory here – but when he transferred his mouth from her lips to her breasts she tensed again and then tensed even more when she felt him tugging – sucking – on her nipples, first one and then the other. An unfamiliar sensation zigzagged right through her body, causing a dull ache low down inside her that began to grow in intensity. George’s teeth suddenly raked her nipple, causing her to cry out and jerk away from him, but he pulled her back, sliding his hand into the open leg of her knickers, and touching her almost roughly where she had secretly and daringly touched herself before but never like George was doing, working his fingers into her, ignoring her protest that he was hurting her, rubbing that special magical place she had found during her own explorations until suddenly Louise wasn’t thinking about how she could bend George to her will any more because she wasn’t capable СКАЧАТЬ