She could feel it now, and with another little flutter inside her, she got to her feet.
I can’t resist him and there’s no reason to. He wants me—I want him. I know it won’t last—can’t last—but I must simply enjoy this time with him.
He wasn’t a man she’d ever have got involved with had it not been for him hiring her, but since he had, and she was—well, why not accept what was happening between them?
Why not—as she was doing now—slip into an ankle-length, fine cotton sundress in a vivid floral print of vibrant blues and crimsons that was nothing like the formal evening gowns and cocktail dresses she’d worn when the Neubergers were there. She was ‘off duty’ now, and she wanted only to feel comfortable.
It was a look that Marc had echoed, she saw as she joined him out on the terrace. He wore a plain white open-necked shirt with the cuffs turned back and dark blue chinos. Still devastatingly attractive, but relaxed.
The two of them were all set, ready for a comfortable and relaxed evening together...
She felt that little flutter inside her again.
But that was for later. For now there was just the warmth in Marc’s eyes—a warmth that wasn’t only male appreciation of her, but a side of him she hadn’t seen in him before, except for when he had greeted Hans. A side of him that had so taken her aback as he’d dropped that perpetual ill-humour of his.
He was walking towards her, an open bottle of champagne and two flutes in his hands. He set the flutes on a table laid for dinner, with candles glowing in protective glass cases, and started to pour the champagne. Silently he handed her a softly effervescing glass, keeping the other for himself.
‘It’s a champagne evening,’ he announced, a smile playing at his mouth. He raised his glass. ‘To us,’ he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. ‘To our champagne evening. Salut!’
And it was a salute, Tara knew. It was a recognition of what was happening between them—what had been happening ever since their first encounter. An acknowledgement that neither of them could walk away now from the other...from t
his champagne evening.
I want this—I want everything about it. Even for the short while that it will be mine...
The words were in her head—unstoppable. And she didn’t want to stop them, to silence them. All she wanted, on this evening of all evenings, was what there was and what was to come.
‘Salut...’ she said in soft reply, and took a mouthful of the delicate drink, her eyes still holding his. There was a glow in her body, a sweetness in her veins, a low pulse at her throat.
He drank as well, and then, with a smile, said, ‘Walk with me.’
She did, and they strolled across the darkening garden to the edge of the lawn, where the manicured grass gave way to rougher land, and then a rocky shore tumbled down to the lapping sea below.
There was a little jetty, and steps cut into the rocky outcrop to take them there, and he led her down. They stood on the jetty awhile, looking out across the night-filled sea. From this point at the tip of the Cap there was no line of sight to the shoreline with all its bright lights. Even the villa behind them was not visible this low below the shoreline.
‘We might be on a desert island...’ Tara breathed, her voice still soft. ‘All on our own.’
At her side, Marc gave a low laugh. ‘The world vanished away,’ he said.
He turned to her. Lifted the hand that was not holding his flute to trail a finger along the contours of her mouth.
‘I want this time with you,’ he said, and she could hear the husk in his voice now, feel the frisson in her veins that it engendered. ‘We are free to have it—and I very much wish to share it with you.’
There was a question in his voice—and yet an answer too. For how could she refuse him? She knew she would not be here, standing with him out on the jetty, beneath the gathering night, if she did not want what he wanted too.
* * *
Marc felt desire creaming inside him, yet he knew he must not be precipitate. He had considered her out of bounds, was breaking all his rules by indulging himself with her, and as that was so he wanted to take from this forbidden liaison d’amour all that it could offer him.
And it will be worth it! She is promising everything I want—everything I have already so tantalisingly tasted.
* * *
Tara made no reply to what he had said, but she did not need to, she knew. Perhaps, it was unwise, letting herself be drawn into a world that was not hers, to a man who could never be hers for that reason, and she knew it must be brief, but she accepted it. Accepted all of it. This beautiful villa, this beautiful place, and the man whose domain it was.
She took another slow mouthful of her champagne, feeling its potency ease into her bloodstream, committing her to what she was doing.
They stood awhile, as the sky darkened to absolute night and one by one the stars began to shine. The low lapping of the water was seductive...as seductive as the warm, caressing breeze that lifted off the sea. Then, the sky dark, the champagne drunk, they made their way back to the terrace to dine together.