They're Wed Again

She had known, felt the difference the moment he touched her. His fingers had burned against her skin, almost as hotly and excitingly as the look she’d seen in his eyes. But that had been nothing compared to the tension, the need, the hunger she’d felt in him when he had kissed her, his mouth almost bruising the softness of hers as he’d given way to the intensity of his passion before lifting his mouth to apologise disjointedly, touching her lips with his fingertips, telling her that he was thoughtless, selfish, that he had no right…

‘Stop talking and kiss me again,’ Belle had interrupted him huskily. This time she had returned his passion measure for measure, biting wantonly at his bottom lip, running her tongue-tip excitedly along the shape of his mouth, opening hers to the hot thrust of his tongue when he’d reacted to her sensuality. How long they had stood like that, kissing one another, devouring one another, consuming one another in the fierce passion of their mutual need, Belle had had no idea. She’d only known that when they finally broke apart it was with one accord, as though their every movement had been perfectly choreographed. As they’d undressed one another she’d had no sense of shyness or uncertainty; there had been no clumsiness or awkwardness, only the soft slithering sound of their clothes falling away from their bodies and then that fierce, primitive moment of mutual, visual examination, of studying one another as they’d stood clothed only in the soft shadows of Luc’s room.

It had been seeing the way Luc had looked at her that had made her lift her head in pride and joyous recognition of the full power of her femininity, glorying in Luc’s reaction to it and her own sense of pleasure and strength in the message his reaction had given her. She was beautiful, desirable, loved. She had seen all that and more in his eyes.

And she’d felt the same way about him. Very gently she’d reached out and touched him, carefully placing her lips to the hollow at the base of his throat, her hands spread out across the breadth of his chest.

Very delicately she had breathed in the scent of his skin, and then very deliberately she had tasted him.

Her touch had had the effect of smashing the barrier holding back an oceanic dam, but she had given herself willingly, gladly, voluptuously and joyously to the tumult, making herself a part of its power. Later, exhausted, beached, bleached dry, lightheaded with the release and emotionally intoxicated with the euphoria of their love, they’d promised one another that this was just the beginning, the explosive starburst of a whole new universe of love that they would share for ever.

The following morning she had woken up in Luc’s bed with Luc’s dinner jacket draped over her naked body. On the empty pillow beside her had been a red rose, and attached to its stem had been an engagement ring…

She glanced instinctively now at her left hand, and realised to her chagrin that Luc had done the same.

‘You’re still wearing it,’ he told her softly, not just echoing her thoughts but showing, too, that he had guessed just what she had been remembering.

‘It’s a little bit on the tight side, and I’d have had to have had it cut off,’ she told him, not quite truthfully. But there was no way she was going to admit to him just how she still came to be wearing it, no way she was going to tell him about that night, less than a year after their divorce had become final, the night which had been the anniversary of the night he had given the ring to her when, overcome by sentiment and longing, she had slipped it back onto her finger and had left it there. No need, either, to mention just how often in times of anxiety and stress she touched it, twisting it, gaining comfort from its presence and from the memories she had learned to cherish.

‘Besides, you still wear your wedding ring,’ she pointed out, gesturing to the plain gold band on his left hand.

‘I wasn’t the one who wanted a divorce,’ he told her sombrely.

‘It’s getting late,’ Belle told him hurriedly. ‘We ought to go to bed—’ She stopped, and bent her head so that the thick cascade of her hair fell across her face, concealing its hot colour.

‘I…I haven’t anything I can offer you to wear, I’m afraid,’ she apologised. ‘I’ll just go and get some clean towels and some bedlinen.

She kept the duvet for the sofa bed in the top of the wardrobe in her own bedroom. It was, after all, seldom used. She was standing on her dressing table stool trying to get it down when Luc saw what she was doing and came in to help her.

‘Let me do that. You might fall,’ he chided her.

‘No, I won’t,’ Belle denied, and of course promptly did, bringing the duvet with her, so that as Luc rushed forward to catch her it unfurled, engulfing them both.

She was wearing a silk jersey black dress she had bought in Italy, very plain in design and very fluidly sexy. As she tumbled it rode up, revealing the soft flesh of her thigh and the wispily brief briefs she was wearing underneath.

Luc, who had put out his hand to steady her, discovered that instead of touching her waist his hand was actually resting on the smoothly naked flesh of her leg.

Were his fingertips actually stroking her skin, not just touching it? Belle wondered dizzily. Or was she just imagining it, wanting it…

‘Belle.’

She heard him whisper her name, and instinctively she looked up at him.

‘You haven’t changed,’ he told her softly. ‘You still do things to me that…’ He groaned rawly under his breath as he leaned over her. Belle felt her stomach muscles clench as she recognised that he was going to kiss her. But she didn’t do anything to try to stop him. On the contrary…

‘Belle…’

‘Mmm…’ Dreamily Belle opened her eyes at the same time as she snuggled deeper into Luc’s arms.

‘You know what’s going to happen if we stay here like this, don’t you?’ Luc warned her.

‘No,’ Belle fibbed untruthfully as she delicately nuzzled the deliciously Luc-scented skin just below his jaw. ‘But you could always show me,’ she added helpfully, and encouragingly, just in case he hadn’t quite got the message.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ Luc told her throatily as he tasted the soft sweetness of her lips, deliberately lingering over them, teasing the warm outline of them with tiny little kisses.

‘No, I won’t tempt you,’ Belle agreed obediently as she opened her mouth to the delicate probing of his tongue-tip.

Some time later, as he carried her to her bed… their bed…Luc reproved her, ‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s wrong to tell lies?’

But Belle’s only reply was a long, shuddering sigh of pleasure as he placed her naked body onto the bed and then covered it with his own.

‘Oh, Luc… Luc… I’ve missed you so much,’ she whispered to him as she held him tightly.

‘Nowhere near as much as I’ve missed you,’ he told her. ‘Nowhere near…’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘PEOPLE are talking about us. I warned you that they would,’ Belle told Luc, shaking her head reprovingly at him as

he offered her the last of the petits fours. ‘Your parents have been watching us very suspiciously for the last hour.’

‘Mmm…’ Luc responded. ‘And so have yours.’

‘Well, you’ve got to admit it is rather unusual for a divorced couple to be so…’

‘Intimate with one another?’ Luc suggested as she finally gave in and took the sweet he was lifting to her lips.

‘Friendly with one another, I was going to say,’ Belle corrected him sternly.

‘Friendly!’ Luc gave her an extremely wicked look. ‘You were rather more than friendly last night…’

Quickly Belle placed her fingertip to his lips.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she warned him. ‘Don’t you dare.’ But there was laughter and warmth in her eyes, rather than disapproval, and there was a matching warmth in Luc’s.

* * *

‘Darling…what on earth is going on? Luc’s mother has just asked me how long you and Luc have been back on speaking terms, and I must say…’

‘We decided it was time we put aside our differences,’ Belle told her mother calmly, half an hour later.

‘Well, yes…that’s very sensible, darling, but I must say…’

‘Carol wants you, Mum,’ Belle warned her mother as she saw her elder sister frantically beckoning to their mother, smiling to herself as she quickly escaped from her parent’s anxious questions. There was no doubt about it, she and Luc had created quite a stir. She could see the open speculation in people’s eyes as they watched them. Only Joy, the bride, seemed oblivious to the undercurrents and speculation sweeping through the room.

‘Aunt Belle, there you are. I just wanted to tell you again how grateful Andy and I are to you and Luc for your wonderful wedding present. I never expected…’

‘You like it, then?’ Belle asked her niece with a smile.

‘Like it? We are over the moon. I never…I didn’t even know you knew I wanted…’

‘Your mother happened to mention that you’d seen it and fallen in love with it,’ Belle informed her niece fondly.

‘Yes. I had…we had. But for you and Luc…’ She stopped and fell silent as Belle raised a quizzical eyebrow.