Breathless for You

by Elizabeth Anthony

Genres: Romance; Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

Set in the 1920s, this passionate, provocative tale is perfect for fans of Downton Abbey and E.L. James' Fifty Shades of Grey. November 1921. Since arriving in London, Madeline, the young French ward of Ash, the new Duke of Belfield, has become the subject of lurid speculation, and when she's offered the chance to travel to Belfield Hall, Ash's country seat in Oxfordshire, Madeline is eager to seek refuge there. But Oxfordshire is not as quiet a retreat as she assumed, for soon she clashes with a handsome gamekeeper - Nathan Mallory - whose seduction techniques are astounding and addictive. Meanwhile, Madeline's secret nightmares of her own dark past in Paris continue to haunt her. At the same time Madeline realises that her guardian the Duke (whom she holds in the highest regard) has an impossible love too - for his Sophie, the former servant girl. It's in Madeline's power to reunite the two, but quite possibly at the cost of her own happiness - and her choices are made even more difficult by the secret machinations of powerful people who would do anything to keep Sophie and Ash apart ...

Release date: April 10, 2014

Publisher: Hodder Paperback

Print pages: 304

Sample

Chapter Eight

‘Some of your games I like, but this one I don’t,’ I said. ‘Nathan, is the blindfold really necessary?’

His face remained impassive. ‘You made me a promise.’

‘Very well.’ I lifted my chin defiantly. ‘As long as you keep your promise, and let me drive again – the moment you consider, in your infinite wisdom, that it’s safe to take the blindfold off me.’

He began carefully. ‘I’m not sure that I did promise, Madeline. And though you drove my car very well earlier, perhaps you’ve had enough for today—’

I pushed at his hand that held the scarf. ‘No driving, no blindfold. It’s as simple as that.’

He pressed his beautiful lips together, then he nodded, but I was upset again. I wouldn’t let him help me into the car, and I sat rigid as he fastened the blindfold over my eyes. Why do this? So that I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the location of the half-ruined house? But who was I likely to tell about it, for heaven’s sake? About as many people as I was likely to talk to about him. Nobody, in other words.

He started up the engine and drove us away from there without speaking. But after a quarter of an hour or so, he stopped the car and pulled on the handbrake – and I realised he was reaching to push aside my veil and remove my blindfold. ‘Your turn to drive, then, mam’selle.’ He got out and began to take the canvas roof down. ‘And we’ll have some fresh air – no one’s likely to see us on these country lanes.’

I didn’t smile back. I didn’t say anything as I moved across and took the wheel in my hands. As for what happened next – I reacted stupidly, I can see that now. I was upset about the blindfold, and I was reckless. I drove too fast.

At first Nathan was patient. ‘Please go a little slower,’ he said. ‘There are some potholes ahead, and unless you take more care, you might damage my tyres.’

So I slowed for a mile or so, but soon I let the car gather speed again, and though Nathan was very quiet, I saw from the corner of my eye that his jaw was set tensely. It serves you right, I thought. It serves you right, for not trusting me to drive from the house. Surely you can see very well that I’m capable. That I know exactly what I’m—

‘There’s a sharp turn ahead,’ Nathan said through gritted teeth. ‘You must brake, Madeline – brake now, and shift into a lower gear, and – Madeline!’ Suddenly he was hauling at the steering wheel. ‘Sweet Jesus, Madeline! Get your foot on the damned brake pedal!’ He’d wrenched the wheel round, and no wonder – I’d been heading straight towards a sturdy oak. ‘Stop the engine,’ he ordered, ‘and get out. I’m driving the rest of the way, do you understand? Jesus. Jesus . . .’

Somehow he’d flung himself across my lap to pull at the handbrake and his old car tilted crazily before righting itself and grinding to a halt on the rough grass verge. I collapsed over the steering wheel in a trembling heap. I’d thought – I’d really thought – that we were both going to die.

Swiftly he pulled me close to him. ‘Oh God, Madeline. You’re shaking. I didn’t mean to shout at you like that, but it looked as though you were going to drive straight into that bloody tree.’

‘I – I’m sorry, Nathan.’ I could barely speak. ‘Your car – do you think I’ve damaged it? If I have, I’ll pay—’

He broke in, ‘It’s not my car I’m worried about. Not my bloody car. It’s you.’ He’d flung his arms around me and was holding me close; then he was cupping my face with his hands, and he was gazing down at me with something fierce and primitive blazing in his eyes. My heart was beating wildly. Before I knew it, our mouths were colliding – oh, yes, my lips were as eager as his – and I heard the low growl of appreciation that he made in his throat as I opened to him; his mouth was cool and sensual as it slid over mine, his tongue was insinuating, stroking, thrusting, and I welcomed him eagerly.

Dear God, I was going to hell. My mother, the nuns – everyone had told me I was going to hell. But as his kiss intensified, I didn’t care; I simply revelled in the delicious certainty of once more being wrapped in his strong arms. I revelled in being able to tangle my fingers in his over-long hair, in allowing his musky man-scent to invade my senses, while raw desire tingled in all my nerve endings.

‘Nathan,’ I breathed. ‘You want this – you want me – again?’

‘Again,’ he said. ‘Oh, Madeline. Again, and again, and again.’

He was laughing, I was laughing. Suddenly he pulled me towards him and lifted me so that I was astride his thighs, facing him; we were still hungrily kissing – my arms were wrapped tightly around his lovely shoulders – but at the same time he was reaching between my splayed legs. My skirt was up around my waist, and my panties were – ripped to shreds, I suddenly remembered, and in his pocket. I giggled. He’d thrust the talisman aside and was raising me again by my hips, then letting me down with great care, so that his iron-hard phallus was nudging at my core.

I still gasp aloud when I remember the scene now. We were in that open-topped car on a public road, where anyone might pass, yet we were shameless. With a harsh sigh he began to enter me, inch by powerful inch, and it was wonderful – I matched him stroke for stroke, riding him as waves of sheer pleasure washed over me; I clawed at his back as my need devoured me, and at last I shattered around him, sinking into his embrace, whimpering with delight against his warm chest.

It’s not my car I’m worried about, he’d said. Not my bloody car. It’s you.

He eased me off him. I caressed him until he pumped out his seed, and afterwards he held me tenderly, pressing his lips to my hair. ‘Time to tidy up,’ he said, reluctantly. He kissed my hand and began to button up my dress, but I still saw mischief in his eyes, laughter even; after all, we were still tangled up together in his car, and my clothes . . . oh, my.

I crawled along the seat to the passenger side, where I sat and tried to smooth my hair with my fingers. ‘Now your car’s even more of a mess than it usually is.’ I could hear the happiness in my voice.

‘For the most delightful of reasons.’ He leaned across to press a kiss to my forehead. ‘We’d best be on our way, mam’selle. And this time, I’ll drive.’

I put my head to one side and gave him a mischievous smile. ‘But I did well, didn’t I, Nathan? Driving your car, I mean?’ I caught his look of astonishment. ‘Well,’ I went on, ‘apart from the very last bit, I suppose . . .’ My voice trailed away.

He lifted my hand to his lips and said, with mock solemnity, ‘Apart from almost crashing into a tree, mam’selle, you were – spectacular.’ I didn’t know if he was referring to the car or the sex or both, and I didn’t mind. My gamekeeper. I was recklessly, stupidly exhilarated because he’d said he cared. Sheer joy pulsed sweetly through my veins for the remainder of our drive.

But when we reached his cottage, my happiness evaporated – because Lottie Towndrow, the clever researcher from Oxford, was there.

 

She’d left her bicycle leaning against the wall, and was sitting on the bench by the front door looking perfectly at home reading a book while Nathan’s two dogs dozed at her feet, although they jumped up and bounded towards the car as soon as they heard it drawing near. She rose and strolled towards us also, dressed in jodhpurs and a checked shirt, looking sleek and cool with her long red hair flying free.

She reached Nathan’s side just as he was opening the car door for me. After giving me a dismissive glance, she put her hand on Nathan’s muscular arm.

‘Oh, Nathan, darling,’ she said, ‘I came over to borrow some of your books. I do hope you don’t mind?’

Darling, I registered. Nathan, darling.

‘Not at all,’ he said evenly. ‘Lottie, have you met Madeline, the Duke’s ward?’

‘We’ve met.’ She gave me another cool stare. ‘At Belfield Hall, in fact, though it’s such a vast place that our paths don’t often cross.’

‘Oh, they have at times,’ I said pointedly, thinking of the letters she’d asked me to translate. But she clearly wasn’t going to give me a chance to bring the matter up.

‘I’ve almost finished my work at the Hall,’ Lottie said. She still scarcely looked at me – her eyes were devouring Nathan. ‘But I wondered if you’d let me take these for a while, Nathan.’ She was pointing to two thick volumes she’d left on the bench by his door. ‘I was half-expecting you to call at my house some day – but presumably you’ve found other matters to divert you.’ This time she looked at me.

I was feeling unsteady again. So Nathan knew Lottie – rather well, it seemed. And those books. How could I have forgotten them? Would a gamekeeper really have books titled Land Management Methods, and The Wheat Crop in English History? Would he really speak to someone like Lottie – and she to him – as if they were social equals?

Nathan offered to make tea and we sat outside in the spring sunshine while Lottie chattered away to him about Oxford, and history, and literature, and I might as well have not been there. Nathan spoke now and then, but was restrained. And I sat feeling stupid, and so terribly jealous.

After a while, he turned to me. ‘Lottie’s probably told you she’s writing a thesis on the history of the Oxfordshire nobility,’ he said. ‘No doubt somebody, somewhere, will want to read it.’

Oh – a gentle piece of mockery. His brown eyes danced and he gave that secret grin, just for me. Immediately I felt happier – but not for long. Lottie put down her cup rather abruptly.

‘I’m already engaged to give lectures on the topic,’ she announced breezily, ‘all around England. Well, Nathan darling, I really should be on my way – I’ll get your books back to you in the next week or so, I promise.’ She stood up, putting the books in a leather satchel.

That’s it, I thought. She’s going now. Nathan stood up too, to see her off, and I began to breathe more easily.

But then – right in front of me – Lottie pulled him to her by his shirt front, she stood on tiptoe and she kissed him on the lips. On the lips. Only then did she finally get on her bicycle and set off down the grassy track. For a moment or two I could hardly breathe.

What is she to you, Nathan?

He came back and put his arm around me. ‘Don’t worry about her,’ he said. ‘She’s jealous of you, that’s all. I didn’t realise that you’d already met her.’

I pulled away from him. ‘I’ve met her a few times, at the Hall. She’s been rooting amongst the old books and papers there.’

‘Has she?’ He looked startled. ‘Does the Duke know?’

‘I – I don’t know.’ My eyes flew up to his. ‘I just assumed she had his permission.’

‘I doubt it,’ he said flatly. ‘I very much doubt it. I suppose that you and she haven’t exactly become friends?’

‘No. I feel—’

‘You feel what, Madeline?’

I shrugged. ‘She despises me. I know it.’

He drew me down to the bench, keeping his arm around me. ‘She’s wild with envy,’ he said softly, ‘because you’re so beautiful and sweet. That’s all.’ He gave me his gentle smile. ‘But if I were you, I wouldn’t talk to her. Or listen to anything she says.’

Tentacles of miserable suspicion were still prickling at my skin. The way she’d kissed him. The way she’d looked at me, when we arrived at the cottage in Nathan’s car. With amusement, and disdain, and – pity.

‘Nathan,’ I said, pleating the fabric of my dress between my fingers, ‘were you and she once lovers?’

He was silent for a while, during which time my heart sank to its lowest ebb since I’d met him. He said at last, ‘Lottie and I were – lovers, yes, as you put it. Without any sort of commitment. That’s what she likes.’

I was stupefied. Of course I knew he’d have had many lovers, I’d be a fool to think otherwise – but Nathan and Lottie. I could barely breathe.

He was holding my hand and stroking my palm in that way of his. ‘I didn’t tell you,’ he went on, ‘because it didn’t seem important. Because she wasn’t important. How could I look at anyone else, when I have you?’

I was silent.

‘You are mine, Madeline,’ he said. ‘Mine. She’s not said anything about me, has she?’

‘No. No.’ I’d found my voice at last. ‘If she had, don’t you think I’d have asked you about her? I don’t see how you can be so calm . . .’

He was still holding my hand. ‘I told you – our affair meant nothing. Lottie isn’t the kind of person who invites affection. She has unusual tastes.’

‘So I’d guessed,’ I muttered, remembering the way she’d made me translate those hideously salacious letters. ‘In her reading, at any rate.’

‘Not just in her reading.’ And I saw him hesitate. Oh, no. What was coming next? ‘Madeline,’ he went on, ‘I know that you’ve had a certain amount of sexual experience. But I wonder if you’ve heard of domination?’

I coloured and my breathing became tighter. ‘I’ve heard of it, yes.’

‘Well, Lottie is fond of being dominated,’ Nathan said calmly. ‘She likes to be in the power of a strong and virile man – she enjoys being bound and gagged, maybe blindfolded too, during a sexual encounter.’

I was still endeavouring to be calm. ‘So you did that to her? You blindfolded her, and tied her up?’

His fingers were toying idly with mine, then he looked at me directly. ‘I’m glad you used the past tense. Yes, she liked me to dominate her. But we’ve not been together in that way for some time, and she’s very jealous of you. She’s told me so—’

He broke off as I stood up, and I was afraid he might see how I was trembling with anger. With distress. They talked about me? This was too much. I said in a low voice, ‘I think I’d like to go back to the Hall now, if you don’t mind.’

He stood up too, his face grave. ‘I’ll walk down through the woods with you. But – you’re not seriously worried about Lottie, are you?’

I shivered. Yes. Yes, I am. I hate her. I hate having to know what you’ve done with her . . . He gazed at me a moment longer, then he whistled up his dogs and we set off down the path.

 

He put his arm around me as we walked, pulling me closer to him and adjusting his long stride to match mine as the dogs bounded gleefully ahead. But I was still cold. I’d protected myself from emotion ever since I was a child, and with good reason. I’d walled up my heart and I’d let no one in. But with this man’s caresses, and his tender words, I’d felt something stir into life inside me that was far more than simple sexual desire, and far more dangerous.

And now – since our conversation about Lottie – I’d realised he was probably fearing that I’d make emotional demands on him, ask him for commitment even. Perhaps he was already wishing that what had taken place between us had never happened.

He halted when we got to the boundary of the Hall’s gardens and whistled his dogs close, while I prepared to set off across the shrubbery by my usual route. But he stopped me by putting his hands on my shoulders and turning me to face him.

He said steadily, ‘Are you regretting what’s happened between us, Madeline?’

I shrugged. ‘No more than you, I imagine.’

He lifted my scarred wrist and kissed it. ‘I’m not regretting it. Don’t do this to yourself, Madeline. You must stop thinking of yourself all the time as if you were unworthy of any happiness.’

‘But what if that’s correct?’ I pulled my hand away from him. ‘What if you’re the one who’s wrong, for thinking I’m – what I’m not, Nathan?’

His eyes were unreadable. ‘I know you well enough,’ he said. ‘You’ll meet me again, mam’selle?’

My breath caught in my throat. Then – ‘Yes,’ I whispered, ‘yes,’ and I was in his arms, and he was holding me close and pressing his forehead to mine.

‘Tomorrow,’ he said almost tenderly. ‘At my cottage, around eight in the evening. Yes?’

A huge lump suddenly came to my throat, so I couldn’t speak. I nodded instead.

‘You’ll be on time?’

‘Aren’t I always?’

‘Of course. Forgive me. And please smile, Madeline,’ he whispered. ‘You look so sweet when you smile.’

He kissed my hand, then I walked quickly through the leafy park and the gardens towards the house. This could not go on, I thought rather desperately. I would be a fool not to realise it. But I knew, all the same, that I would continue to wear his talisman, I would continue to be his – since I certainly could not bear to be the one to end it.

The very next day, a new blow came from an unexpected quarter, because the old Duchess arrived at Belfield Hall.

Chapter Eighteen

As I’d guessed, Nathan was at work on his old house. I’d stopped the car a little distance away so he wouldn’t hear me coming, then I walked up the narrow lane with my bag and entered the courtyard. Nathan was high on a ladder with his back to me, reaching to mend a section of guttering and whistling softly to himself. The hot July sun had made the air humid after the storm, and he’d stripped off his shirt; my breath caught, because he looked so glorious. For a moment I gazed at the way the powerful muscles of his back and shoulders flexed sleekly beneath his tanned skin. And my heart had never ached so badly.

Couldn’t I ignore what Lottie had said? Couldn’t I pretend that what she’d told me was a lie? No. Because in my heart of hearts, I knew it had to be the truth.

He must have heard my footsteps on the gravel as I came nearer, because he looked round and his face lit up. ‘Madeline.’ He came quickly down the ladder and across the courtyard to take me in his arms. ‘I’ve missed you all day, mam’selle,’ he said, softly pressing his forehead to mine. ‘Missed you badly. How did you get here?’

‘I drove,’ I told him calmly. ‘I borrowed the Duke’s Ford. I’ve left it down the lane.’

He grinned. ‘Good for you. No near-collisions with trees?’ I shook my head. He went on, ‘I thought you would be kept fully occupied by the Duchess today.’

‘I needed to see you now,’ I said huskily, drawing my finger down his naked, muscled chest, touching his flat brown nipples and gazing up at him.

‘It’s as well, then,’ he breathed, catching my hand, ‘that I’ve almost finished my jobs for the day.’

‘Fortunate for me, indeed.’ Oh, Nathan. Two can play at this wicked game. I lifted his hand and pressed it to my lips, letting my tongue’s tip dart out to caress his palm.

With a low growl, he reached for me. He swung me up into his arms and carried me inside, where he kissed me, and as our mouths collided, the sheer raw intensity of the feelings he aroused in me was so strong that for a moment I couldn’t help myself thinking: Nathan, I don’t care what you’ve done. I need you. I need you so badly . . .

I fought those feelings down. I let my fingers dig into his shoulders and I kissed him as hungrily as ever, my mouth every bit as greedy as his, my tongue stroking his every bit as boldly. But now I was declaring in my own way, Look what you’re giving up. Look what you’ve thrown away.

He retreated a little, his eyes almost black with desire. ‘Madeline. Oh, Madeline.’

You’ve thrown me away. Hooking my arms around his hard-muscled back, I pulled him close again. Pride was driving me. Revenge was driving me. A broken heart was driving me.

Suddenly Nathan pushed me onto the old couch in the corner, then tangled his fingers in my dark curls and kissed me again. My arms locked around him, roving the satiny skin of his back; our tongues and bodies entwined, we kissed as if we’d been parted for months, and his every touch was as skilled and nerve-shatteringly perfect as always. My emotions were at melting point. I was so desperately angry and hurt – as hurt as I’d ever been in my life – but my anger stoked the fire of need within me that was already white-hot.

He was running his hands up and down my slender legs now, finding the tops of my stockings. My own hands slid over his glorious chest as he leaned over me, and I saw that his eyelids were half-lowered as he gazed hungrily at my body. Then he was unbuttoning my blouse, he was ripping away my lacy brassiere, he was fastening his silky-hot mouth over first one breast then the other.

I tried to hate him, and I couldn’t. When he started drawing my nipples out with his teeth, my head fell helplessly back and my hips squirmed as hot, liquid pleasure pumped through my veins. I trailed my mouth over his lovely, lightly stubbled jaw; I undid his breeches and closed my fingers around the glorious velvet length of his erection. The last time. The last time. As I caressed him, he dragged my panties aside and then entered me in a single, driving thrust that had me crying his name aloud. He was hard and full and pulsing, and for a moment I was afraid again, as I always used to be, of his power.

Suddenly I reached out to grip his waist, I swung my whole body round, rolled him over and landed on top of him, taking advantage of his surprise. He was still deep, deep inside me – but now I was in charge.

I sat up, kneeling fully astride him on the couch, gazing down at him. ‘Beg,’ I said softly, moving myself until I heard him groan. ‘Beg, Nathan.’

He was laughing, but his dark eyes were hazed with pure desire. ‘Oh, mam’selle. Time for your games? Very well. Your wish is my command.’

I didn’t smile back, but drew my hips up carefully until I was only enfolding the last inch of him. Oh, he was beautiful. So utterly desirable. With my hands I pinned his muscled arms down on either side of the couch. ‘Beg,’ I repeated softly.

Nathan Mallory had at least three or four times my strength. Of course, he could have thrown me on my back and taken me there and then. But he’d realised that something had altered in our relationship, that the balance of power had somehow shifted.

‘Beg,’ I repeated, as I began to slowly move myself up and down his engorged shaft.

He moistened his lips. ‘Please, Madeline.’ His voice was thick with need.

I stilled again, high above him. ‘Tell me how you feel about me, Nathan,’ I said. ‘I’d really like to know.’

His eyes widened – I could see the disquiet there openly now. But he said, carefully, ‘Madeline. No other woman has ever made me feel the way you do. I need you, mam’selle. You mean so much to me—’

‘Enough,’ I cut in, because I was desperate myself, I’d been afraid to move or even breathe in case my own need became too much for me to control. But now I could hold on no longer. I sank onto him again – oh. And the feeling of him, driving incredibly deep and thick within me, was so shockingly good that I rose again, sank again; his hands were greedily fondling my breasts as I rode him, and he was thrusting hard to meet me, grinding himself against me with unerring skill. He was reaching to touch me, at the tender, tiny knot of nerves that craved his firm fingers – damn you Nathan, for knowing exactly what to do, always – and as tingling pleasure began to take hold of me, I couldn’t help but moan his name aloud.

I twisted my fingers in his hair and pulled his head up to mine as I locked my mouth to his, twining my tongue with his while he pounded into me. We kissed through my choked gasps and through his tortured groans, until in a final frenzy he pulled himself out, turned me onto my back and pumped his seed over my belly, then buried his mouth in my sex, using his tongue to bring on a climax that roared through me and left me sated. Tenderly he kissed me on my lips, while running his hands over my hips, my thighs. So gentle. So unbearably gentle . . .

Then – ‘The mark,’ he suddenly said. ‘The falcon. It’s gone.’ He’d become very still. ‘Madeline, you must have scrubbed it away. You’ve made your skin sore . . .’

He saw everything in my face, I think, before I spoke a word.

He lay there, and watched tensely as I climbed down from the couch and walked over, naked, to my shoulder bag. With my back to him, I swiftly drew out what I’d put in there – a piece of sponge, a tiny phial of indelible ink and the talisman. With the sponge I smeared some ink across the talisman, then walked back to him, knelt beside him and pressed it against his naked flank. I blew gently on the small blac. . .