Taming the Rebel Tycoon. Ally Blake

in black velvet, the sensations so deep and intense that she was shaken to the very core of her being, she lay beneath him, shuddering helplessly.

      At the same time she felt exalted, omnipotent, the feel of his flesh against hers and the weight of his dark head on her breast a priceless gift.

      She knew a sudden poignant happiness. He was her man. Her mate. Her love .

      So this was what love was really like, what all the love songs and poetry added up to. Two people coming together and meeting on every level, a meeting as much spiritual as physical.

      She could only feel glad that, instead of giving herself lightly for a moment’s gratification, she had waited for this one man.

      When their breathing and heart rate returned to something like normal, he lifted himself away and turned on his back. Then, gathering her close, he settled her head comfortably at the juncture between chest and shoulder and, his arm holding her securely, bent his head to kiss her.

      His kiss seemed gentle and caring and she found herself hoping against hope that he shared at least some of her feelings.

      After a little while she became aware of a quiet but persistent thought tugging at the sleeve of her consciousness, trying to gain her attention. Still euphoric, unwilling to think, she mentally waved it away. But refusing to be banished, it became even more insistent.

      It was another moment or two before she identified it, then surprise made her blurt out what she was now certain of. ‘You didn’t make love to me…Last night, I mean…’

      ‘No,’ he agreed.

      ‘But I thought…Though I couldn’t remember, I was sure we’d slept together…’

      ‘So we had. That is to say, we slept in the same bed. That’s all.’

      ‘I don’t understand why…’

      She felt the movement as he glanced down at her. ‘You went out like a light so, apart from taking off your clothes, I never laid a finger on you. I cursed myself for getting you in that state, but by then it was too late.’

      ‘But you said we’d…’

      Realising he’d never actually said anything, she changed it to, ‘You deliberately made me think we’d slept together.’

      ‘When you jumped to that conclusion, I just didn’t correct you.’

      And she could guess why not. With her believing they were already lovers, tonight’s seduction had been so much easier. Had she known the truth, would she have behaved differently?

      But it was too late to ask herself that.

      ‘Mad with me?’ he queried.

      She ought to be.

      But she wasn’t really.

      How could she be mad with a man who had given her so much, and with such tenderness?

      ‘No,’ she whispered.

      His arm tightened round her.

      Beneath her cheek she could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart, hear the quiet evenness of his breathing, smell the scent of his skin, with its heady combination of fresh perspiration and shower gel.

      It was so sweet, so intimate, that she gave thanks as she lay blissfully savouring the warmth and happiness, the feeling of belonging, of having finally come home.

      She was still marvelling at the peace and beauty of it when sleep crept up and wrapped her in a soft, dark blanket.

      Next morning she awoke to full remembrance and a singing happiness. A smile on her lips, she turned her head to look at Richard, but she was alone in the big four-poster.

      Sunshine was streaming in through the leaded glass of the windows and a glance at her watch showed it was almost a quarter to nine.

      Some time during the night he had wakened her with a kiss and made long, delectable love to her once more and, though a little tender in parts, her body felt as sleek and well-satisfied as a pampered pedigree cat.

      She stretched luxuriously, while her mind drifted on a cloud of euphoria. She had found her one and only love. He filled her heart and banished her loneliness, satisfied a gnawing hunger that had never been fed.

      He was so right for her. He had strength and humour, warmth and understanding, a willingness to reach out, to meet her on her own ground.

      Yet, like herself, he had a certain reserve, so there would always be thoughts and dreams to surprise. An element of spice to keep their relationship fresh.

       Their relationship…

      Like a train hitting the buffers, her rhapsodizing came to an abrupt halt. Could she call what they had a relationship ?

      Why not? she thought boldly. Though it was still in its early stages, it was a relationship. Hadn’t he made it clear that his feelings and his intentions weren’t merely casual?

      It was a start and if, in spite of their vastly different backgrounds and lifestyles, he could come to care for her, she could ask no more of life.

      And if he couldn’t?

      She pushed the intrusive thought away.

      At least she knew what it was like to really be in love, and it was a marvellous feeling! No wonder people said that love made the world go round.

      All at once she wanted to say it out loud, to shout it from the rooftops.

      Bubbling over with excitement, she decided that as soon as she had showered and dressed she would ring her flatmate.

      Normally, she wouldn’t have made contact until Jules had gone back to Paris, but her news was so exciting she just couldn’t wait to tell somebody.

      Ruth, who knew nothing of the weekend’s events and still thought Tina was staying in London with one of their friends, would be surprised, to say the least. But when she had heard everything, she would understand and be pleased…

      Climbing out of the high bed, Tina cautiously tested her ankle. Finding it supported her without pain, she gathered up her discarded nightdress and, her bare feet squeaking a little on the polished oak floorboards, made her way back to the guest room.

      Fresh and glowing from the shower, she brushed her blonde hair and, leaving it loose around her shoulders, pulled on clean underwear, a pair of cream trousers and a silky shirt the colour of burnt toffee.

      Her ankle had returned to virtually normal, so she left the strapping off and donned flat slip-ons, all the time anticipating Ruth’s reaction to her wonderful news.

      She had located her bag and started to fish around for her phone before she recalled that Richard had borrowed it the previous evening and must have absent-mindedly pocketed it.

      Well, she would have to find him and ask him for it. Unless…On an impulse she returned to the master bedroom, where the suit he had worn had been hung over a chair. Locating his jacket, after a momentary hesitation, she felt in the nearest pocket.

      There was no sign of her phone, but her fingers closed around his pencil torch which lit as she inadvertently pressed the button.

      So the bulb hadn’t gone after all. If Richard had paused long enough to double-check, it would have saved that long, slow, nightmare journey through the Stygian passageway.

      The second pocket yielded nothing more than the handkerchief he had wiped her cheek with, and only then did she recall that she had been sitting on his jacket. Which meant he must have slipped the phone into his trousers pocket.

      Feeling uncomfortable, but committed now, she gritted her teeth and searched both pockets, but once again she drew a blank.

      Oh, well, she would just have to go down and ask him what he’d done with it.

      Her step light, a smile on her lips as she imagined how he’d lift her face to his