Lynne Graham's Brides of L'Amour Bundle

The tight sensation of aching fullness between her thighs made her squirm. He touched her where she had never

been touched before. He discovered the moist secret heart of her, traced the swollen entrance, forcing a pleading moan from her parted lips. She was on fire for him and writhing, enslaved by the fierce hunger he had unleashed in her.

‘Roel…please,’ she sobbed.

He drove her wild. In the grip of that fevered seduction, she was helpless and out of control. Waves of throbbing heat were washing over her. He tipped her back and plunged into her slick, damp core.

‘You’re so tight, cara mia,’ he groaned with ragged pleasure while she was still in shock from that unfamiliar invasion.

He thrust again, overcoming her resisting flesh and driving home to the very centre of her. She cried out in pain, startled tears pooling in her eyes.

Stilling, Roel stared down at her with incredulous force. ‘You were still a virgin…or am I imagining things?’

Already her body was adjusting to the bold incursion of his and the sharp edge of pain had faded. Emotions and responses running at storm-force strength, she stretched up to give him a forgiving kiss. That Roel should be her first lover was what she had always dreamt of and she had no room for regret. ‘I didn’t know I could feel like this…don’t stop—’

‘My wife…a twenty-two-carat virgin,’ Roel commented again, rich dark accented drawl not quite level.

Hilary wrapped her arms round him and angled up to him in frantic invitation. ‘Please…’

As she made that instinctive movement of encouragement he succumbed and sank into her again. The racing excitement that had momentarily gone into abeyance claimed her afresh. With every fluid shift of his powerful body he mastered her and she surrendered to his primal rhythm with helpless abandon. The excitement built and built until she could have screamed with frustration and only then did he send her spiralling out of control into a convulsive climax of explosive pleasure. Bereft of all breath and voice in the aftermath of that revelation, she fell back against the pillows and lay shell-shocked for long moments afterwards.

Roel had made love to her and it had transcended her every naive expectation. However, not only was she already becoming guiltily, uneasily aware that she should not have succumbed to temptation, it was also dawning on her that in becoming intimate with Roel she had trapped herself into a tight corner. She had been too inexperienced to appreciate that Roel might realise that he was the very first lover she had ever had. She was supposed to be a married woman, not a virgin.

At that precise moment, Roel released her from his weight and curved a strong arm round her to carry her over into a cooler patch in the bed. Tawny eyes framed by dense black lashes inspected her hectically flushed face. He dropped a kiss on her brow. ‘So…amazing virginal wife…is it possible that you are still almost a bride?’

Hilary paled and lowered her head. Of course he was now wondering if they were a newly married couple. If he had not been holding onto her, she would have taken refuge under the bed and refused to come out again. She was so ashamed of herself that she couldn’t look at him and even less did she want to examine her own behaviour. Had she gone clean crazy?

‘You’re very quiet…’ Roel remarked.

‘Gosh, I’m dying for a shower!’ Hilary exclaimed and practically threw herself out of the bed.

Escape having been the only thing on her mind, she was then aghast to appreciate that she was naked as the day she was born. Flopping down on her knees on the floor with more haste than grace, she scrabbled madly round the side of the bed to find her nightdress and put it on again with frantic hands. Decently covered again, cheeks fiery red, she endeavoured to stand up again and vacate the room in a more normal way.

Lounging back against the tumbled white pillows, Roel was frowning at her with complete incomprehension. ‘Che cosa hai?’ he asked incredulously. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

Hilary forced a smile and aimed it in his general direction. ‘What the heck could be the matter?’ she fielded and, backing into her own bedroom, took to her heels the minute she knew she was out of view to lock herself into the adjoining bathroom.

What was Roel going to think of her when he recovered his memory? Fierce shame assailed her. He was going to think she was a pretty sad individual to have slept with him in such circumstances. Or was he more likely to recognise that only a truly besotted woman would have seized on the one chance she had had to get close to him? He would guess that she had fallen head over heels in love with him almost four years ago and still found him absolutely irresistible and he would think that she was totally pathetic. She cringed and died a thousand mental deaths at that threat.

In the bedroom next door the internal household phone buzzed and Roel answered it. Umberto informed him in an almost covert tone that a visitor had arrived.

‘Who?’ Roel queried even as he began to reach for his clothes.

The older man demonstrated a great reluctance to name the arrival but managed to get over the concept that that identity was a matter of immense necessary confidentiality.

Minutes later, Roel descended the stairs. ‘Why all the mystery?’ he asked his manservant, his tone dry in the extreme.

‘The lady is Celine Duroux.’

Roel’s strong facial bones clenched, for the name meant nothing to him and he was infuriated and frustrated by that reality.

‘Did I do wrong in allowing her into the house?’ Umberto quavered.

Rebelling against the galling sense of being at a loss, which his amnesia had induced, Roel refused to lower himself to the level of taking the older man into his confidence. He would very much have liked to know why his employee should believe that the woman might reasonably have been refused entrance to his home. But ferocious pride kept Roel silent.

He entered the rarely used rear reception room where Umberto had stashed the unexpected guest. A beautiful green-eyed brunette surged towards him. Almost six feet in height with perfect features and the chic of a fashion model, she threw herself into his arms exclaiming, ‘Have you any idea how frantic I’ve been? When you didn’t show up yesterday, I simply assumed you were too busy. But when I heard a rumour that there’d been an accident, I just had to come here!’

Disconcerted by the intimacy of her greeting, Roel set her back from him. His piercing dark eyes were glacier-cool with caution.