Christmas at His Command

He gave her a hard look. ‘Flattering though some men might find it to be compared to a sultan in a harem, I’m not one of them. I wasn’t aware I had “women” plural.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘No, Marigold, I do not know what you mean. If you’re insinuating I conduct my love life like a bull let loose in a field of cows—’

‘Flynn!’ She was truly shocked.

‘The truth, please.’

‘You…you’re thirty-eight years old and used to full intimacy in your relationships.’ She couldn’t believe how priggish she sounded. Neither, apparently, could Flynn.

‘Marigold, you haven’t the faintest idea what I’m used to within a relationship,’ he said coldly. ‘Now, if this is your way of asking me if I’ve slept with women in the past then yes, I have. Hell, as you’ve just pointed out so baldly, I am a mature man, not some boy, wet behind the ears. However, I have never indulged in a promiscuous lifestyle, neither have I taken a woman to my bed who was not willing.’

She could certainly believe that. She stared at him miserably. No doubt they had been queueing up since Celine was crazy enough to let him go. ‘The thing is…’

‘Oh, not the thing again, please.’

The mocking note in his voice was the last straw, but it had the welcome advantage of putting iron in her backbone and fire in her eyes. All right, he wanted the truth, did he? He was darn well going to get it! ‘I don’t want to be someone who drifts in and out of your life,’ she said tightly, ‘that’s all. That kind of lifestyle might suit some women just fine, but it wouldn’t do for me. It might be old-fashioned but I would want to know that there at least is a chance of something permanent in the future if things worked out right. You…you’re a closed and shut book.’

‘I think the expression is an open and shut case.’

She glared at him. He knew exactly what she was getting at. She would not be a passing obsession, someone he wanted for a short time until the next challenge caught his fancy. And that was all she was, a challenge. If she’d gone to bed with him when he’d first wanted her to she might well be out of his life by now. And she couldn’t cope with it. She loved him, and if she let him into her body as well as her heart she would never survive him leaving her.

It was when she’d met Flynn that she’d understood Dean had been all wrong for her, even if she hadn’t admitted it for ages. From that first day Dean had ceased to matter. It was as simple, and as frightening, as that. She suddenly had the overwhelming desire to wail her head off, but controlled it rigidly.

‘Marigold, correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it you who insisted we keep each other at arm’s length? Friends and no more? Don’t tell me I’m now getting flak because I concurred with your desires?’

The word shivered over her and, although she was sure she hadn’t betrayed herself, she was aware of the silvery eyes honing in on her. ‘Come here,’ he said softly.

‘No, I need to make you understand we can’t carry on like this. We live different lives; we’re different. There’s no meeting point. It’s better to finish now…’

He moved, reaching her in a couple of strides and pulling her up from the sofa and into his arms. It was no gentle kiss; there was a well of frustration and pent-up passion that he hadn’t let her see before, and Marigold was instantly aroused in spite of herself.

She found herself clutching him closer, accepting his kiss with a hunger which matched Flynn’s, her mouth greedy for his. In seconds they were utterly lost to anything but each other, Marigold’s arms tight round his shoulders as Flynn arched her backwards, his lips burning her throat before they moved back to take her mouth.

Somehow Marigold found that her coat was on the floor and then Flynn was nuzzling at the soft swell of her breasts above her low-cut lacy bra, her blouse open, although she had no recollection of Flynn undoing the tiny square pearl buttons. She was aware of the harsher material of his overcoat against her as he continued to ravish her flesh, the scent of him, the overall power and bigness of him, but only on the perimeter of her mind. The feverish need which had taken hold of her within seconds of his mouth taking hers had blurred everything but the desire to get closer and closer.

The soft pads of his fingertips had found her taut nipples under their flimsy covering and he was rubbing them gently, causing her to moan in her throat at the pleasure the small action produced. His body was imprinted against hers, his hard thighs and strong legs feeding the heady rush of sensation which had taken her over. She could feel his heart slamming against his rib-cage and the tiny tremors shivering beneath her hands on his muscled shoulders, and knew he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him.

He crushed her closer to him, lifting her right off her feet as he sank down on the sofa with her in his arms, settling her on his lap, his mouth never leaving hers. ‘So soft, so warm, so perfect…’ His voice was a thick, low murmur against her lips and she revelled in her power over this alien individual who had exploded into her life. ‘You’re sending me crazy, do you know that?’

For her answer she pressed herself against the solid wall of his chest, seeking his mouth with an urgency that was mindless.

‘I want you, Marigold, but not like this. I want us to be able to take our time, can you understand that? I want to possess you so completely there’ll be no room for anything but me in your head and your body. I want to marry you…’

The words hung on the air, shivering like tiny, crystallised raindrops caught in the delicate strands of a spider’s web.

‘What?’ She drew back a little, staring at him dazedly. ‘What did you say?’

‘I want you to be my wife.’ His hard looks had softened into such tenderness her breath caught in her throat. ‘I agree with you, we can’t carry on like this, not without me losing my sanity,’ he added ruefully. ‘You say we lead different lives so let’s remedy that and lead one life together. You can still have your work, you can have the cottage as your studio if you like, somewhere where you can work peacefully and without interruption when I’m in London. When I’m home we can spend as much time together as we can.’

He had got it all worked out, she thought wonderingly. He must have been thinking about this for some time. ‘But…but you never said anything before,’ she murmured weakly.

‘You made it clear I had to try the softly, softly approach,’ Flynn said drily, ‘and I can understand that after what you’ve been through. But you were right in one thing, Marigold—I am thirty-eight years old and frankly my time of stealing the odd kiss behind the bike sheds is long since past. I would have taken you to bed within days of us meeting if you had been willing, I admit it, but you weren’t ready—in here.’ He touched her forehead lightly with the tip of a finger.

‘Flynn…’ H

er voice trailed away as she looked into his eyes, which were lit from within by a light which had turned them the hue of mother-of-pearl. ‘Are…are you sure?’