‘You are probably right,’ Guy ruefully agreed, slowing to guide the car deftly over the narrow little bridge which spanned the stream. ‘Still,’ he shrugged, ‘he likes to kid himself that I am a son to be proud of. It would be a shame to disillusion him too much.’
‘Well, his disillusionment will not come from me,’ Marnie stated coolly. ‘It never did.’
After crossing the racing track, the driveway took a sharp bend to the left, taking them sailing through the thick cluster of majestic oaks which gave the estate its name, and around to the front of the house which faced south, so it could catch the full day’s sun in its face, no matter what time of year it was.
Guy drew the car to a stop then turned to look at her. ‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She nodded, but her insides were trembling as she climbed out of the car.
Guy came to join her, his hand slipping around her waist and firmly drawing her body closer to his side. Marnie stiffened a little, appalled by how violently her senses reacted.
‘Relax!’ he admonished. ‘And turn your face and smile at me! Do it!’ he whispered fiercely when she went to refuse. ‘My father has just come out of the house and is watching us!’
Having to force it, Marnie turned her bright head, tilted her face and smiled up at him. Their eyes clashed, and held, the air around them suddenly too dense to breathe, when she felt something sting her sharply. She gasped. Guy went tense, his heartbeat quickening. And she felt her own begin to hammer, that strange imaginary sting sending tingling shock-waves outwards to every corner of her body. His irises darkened, spiralling out from rich liquid brown to deep black pits that seemed to be drawing her closer and closer.
‘Marnie,’ Guy whispered hoarsely.
‘No.’ She tried to deny what she knew was happening to both of them. But her voice held no strength, and, even as she mouthed the word, her tongue was coming out to run sensually around her parted lips.
She wanted him to kiss her, she realised with a small shock. She not only wanted it, her whole body was crying out for it. Begging for it. Needing it.
His hand moved, flattening against her spine so he could urge her around in front of him. Then she was pressed against the solid length of his body, and Guy was slowly bringing his mouth down to cover her own.
The world began to spin, her senses spiralling with it. The hand at her back urged her closer, bending her into a subtle arch which brought her thighs into quivering contact with his hard arousal. His other hand buried itself in her hair, cupping her head so he could deepen the kiss, and Marnie let her hands drift restlessly over his muscled arms until they fell heavily over his shoulders. Her breasts tightened, the stinging nubs pushing themselves against the warm hardness of his chest. Guy drew in a shaky breath and held on to it, his body beginning to tremble. She felt it just as her own began to do the same. And when he eventually dragged his mouth away from hers they both looked dazed, bewildered, heavy-eyed with need.
‘Don’t ever deny that we have this!’ he rasped out thickly. ‘No matter what else we lost, Marnie, we never lost this!’
He made to take her mouth again, but she pulled stiffly out of his arms, suddenly feeling so cold and empty inside that she shivered.
She moved away from him, swallowing in an effort to shift the lump from her throat, and struggling to pull herself together before turning her attention on the watchful Roberto Frabosa.
He looked older than the last time she’d seen him, and so infinitely frail, standing there with his tall, thin body leaning so elegantly on his walking stick, that she found it easy to discover her smile again, warm it, make it the most natural smile she had used in days.
‘Papa,’ she murmured, and began to move quickly towards him.
His free arm went tightly around her, his face burying itself into her hair for a long emotional moment before he said gruffly, ‘This has to be the most beautiful moment of my life, Marnie. The most beautiful.’
He lifted his head, gazing at her with suspiciously moist eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply.
‘And it is all over now?’ he demanded, glancing at his son as he came to join them. ‘You love each other again?’
Love? Marnie’s smile faltered. She didn’t think she was capable of loving anyone again.
‘The point is, Papa—’ Guy’s arm came possessively around her waist ‘—did we ever actually stop?’
‘Well, you stopped doing something,’ Roberto pointed out, ‘or the last four years would not have been what they were!’ He shook his silvered head. ‘Barren years!’ he condemned them impatiently. ‘Such wasted, barren years!’
‘Papa!’ Guy’s voice was unusually harsh as he felt Marnie jerk back against his arm as if she’d been shot. ‘Take a small piece of advice from your son if you will—’ with effort, he strained the harshness out of his voice but still sounded grim ‘—and resist the temptation to prod unstable substances. They tend to have this irritating tendency to explode in one’s face!’
Marnie gasped at the unexpected outburst, and Roberto stared at Guy in sharp surprise. And in the ensuing silence which followed something passed between father and son over the top of Marnie’s head that made Roberto go pale before he recovered, to send her a rueful smile.
‘I have a cryptic for a son,’ he mocked.
*
‘Why did he snap at you like that?’
Marnie and Roberto were sitting alone in his private study, sipping coffee, surrounded by the precious books he spent most of his time poring over these days. Guy had disappeared as soon as good manners allowed, making for his workshops with all the eagerness of a young boy wanting to play with his favourite toys. Away in the distance she could hear the throaty roar of a car engine being revved experi