Squirming, Helen tried to blank the memory of her second spectacular downfall from her mind. If anything her behaviour had been even worse. Boldly she had caressed and touched him, exploring him with the same intimate detail he had devoted to her. Until finally all that mattered had been the two throbbing, sweat-slicked bodies, touching, tasting, in an orgy of ever-increasing wild abandon that had culminated in a mutually explosive climax.
She heard Leon groan, and tensed, her fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. She didn’t want him to wake up.
Because, painful as it was for her to admit it, for some inexplicable reason she was fast becoming incapable of resisting the man, and it could not go on. She was wise enough to know that way lay only heartache. Leon Aristides was the most autocratic, cynical man she had ever met, verging on misogynistic if his comments on the female sex were to be believed, and certainly not the sort of man to fall in love with.
Closing her eyes tight, she silently vowed to herself she would never let her arrogant husband touch her again. Tomorrow she was going to speak to Anna, and have her own room whatever Leon said, and on that thought she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Helen blinked and yawned widely, the distant sound of a door closing echoing in her head. She rolled over onto her back, and stretched, her body aching in unfamiliar places. Then she remembered, her eyes flew wide open and for a moment the sunlight streaming into the room dazzled her.
‘Good morning, madam.’
Blinking again, her eyes focused on Anna standing by the bed, a laden breakfast tray in her hands, ‘The master said to let you rest, but it is almost twelve and I thought you might like coffee and a little snack.’
‘Twelve?’ Helen squeaked and sat up in bed, her eyes straying to the indentation on the pillows next to hers. He had gone, thank heaven. Then suddenly realising she was naked, she grasped the coverlet and pulled it up under her arms, before turning a scarlet face to Anna again. ‘I am sorry for oversleeping and thank you, Anna.’ She took the tray from her outstretched arms. ‘I certainly need something,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Like a brain transplant.’
‘Now, madam, no need to hurry, the master has gone to collect Nicholas and they won’t be back for a while. You take your time, pamper yourself.’ Anna surprised Helen by smiling broadly at her.
‘And may I say, madam, I have known Master Leon since he was an eight year old, and I was first employed as his nanny. I have watched him grow into the man he is today, and I can honestly say I have never seen him look happier than he was this morning. For that I thank you. The man deserves a little happiness in his life. His mother was a difficult woman and rarely cared for him and as for his first wife…’ Anna frowned. ‘Still, I suppose you already know all about her and I should not waste your time gossiping. But anything you want you only have to ask.’ And with another smile she left.
I wonder if that includes a separate bedroom, Helen mused darkly as she drank the coffee and ate the dainty little pastries provided. Somehow she thought not.
Her worried gaze strayed to the other side of the rumpled bed, and she was vividly reminded of last night, reminded of Leon’s great golden body over her, in her, taking her yet again as the light of dawn filled the room. And placing the tray on the bedside table, she jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
She turned on the shower and stood beneath the soothing spray, trying to wash the haunting memories of last night from her mind, and determined to avoid any repeat.
Thirty minutes later with her hair dried she studied her own reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked different; her lips were still slightly swollen from Leon’s kisses. Red blotches marred the pale skin of her breasts and lower over her stomach, testimony to her husband’s passion.
She spun away from the mirror and quickly dressed. She didn’t want to think about his passion; she didn’t want to think about him, full stop. Donning a pair of blue jeans and a crisp lemon shirt, she brushed her hair back. She slipped her feet into soft flats, and ventured out of the bedroom.
Rather gingerly Helen walked down the marble staircase. She was sore in a way and in places she had never been before and it was all Leon’s fault.
And there he was standing at the bottom of the stairs like a replay of yesterday, only this time he was casually dressed in a cream wool sweater and dark trousers and Nicholas was at his side rather than hers.
‘Uncle Leon said we had to let you rest,’ Nicholas chirped up, and Helen turned scarlet and her new husband smiled, and today the smile did reach his knowing eyes, and made her blush even more.
‘Yes, well,’ Helen murmured, reaching the bottom of the stairs and giving Nicholas a big hug. ‘Now tell me all about your night away.’
Nicholas duly obliged while Anna served lunch and Helen’s tension eased somewhat. Afterwards Leon, much to her surprise, insisted on taking Nicholas upstairs for his nap and promised to play football with the boy later, while Anna gave Helen a guided tour of the house.
The eight bedrooms and five reception rooms impressed Helen but she could not help thinking it was a bit soulless.
Immaculate with high ornate ceilings, brilliant frescos and marble floors, and the furniture to match it was perfect. A little too perfect, a typical stiff-necked banker’s abode.
But she did take the opportunity to confide in Anna that she was an illustrator and ask her if she could have a room for a study, preferably not too far from Nicholas’ room, because she usually worked when he was asleep. Anna quite happily obliged and showed her to a bedroom, along the corridor from Nicholas’. When Anna went downstairs Helen swiftly unpacked her portable easel and sketch books and removed some essential items of clothing from the master suite. She didn’t care what Leon thought. She was having her own room.
Surprisingly the rest of the day was quite fun. She joined Nicholas and Leon in the garden; after yesterday’s rain it was pleasant to be outdoors in the sunshine. She was cajoled into playing a game of football, and burst out laughing when her usually imposing husband fell over the ball in his haste to take it off her and sprawled at her feet. Nicholas immediately jumped on his back and demanded he pretend to be a horse and give him a ride.
There was something very satisfying in seeing Leon on his knees. ‘Ride him, cowboy,’ Helen shouted encouragement.
But when Nicholas tired of the game, Leon slanted a wicked look up at her.
‘Your turn, Helen,’ and glancing at Nicholas he added, ‘What do you think—should I give Helen a ride?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ Nicholas shouted, his little face wreathed in smiles.
‘No, you should not,’ Helen declared, blushing scarlet at the sexual connotation that flew right over the child’s head. But she was secretly pleased at how well they all got along. Leon looked almost boyish and more relaxed than she had ever seen him when Nicholas was around, which was a good sign for the family she hoped they could eventually become.
Turning her back on the laughing duo, she flung over her shoulder, ‘And now I think it is time for tea.’
‘Sorry, Nicholas, Helen thinks she is too old to play.’
She heard his mocking comment and spun back round to find him grinning down at her.
‘Old, moi?’ she exclaimed, her violet eyes sparkling with humour. ‘You have some nerve at your age.’ She saw his dark eyes flash a warning, and, turning, she sprinted for the house with both Nicholas and Leon chasing her.
Bath time was a joint venture and when Nicholas was