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His fingers tightened around her arms. ‘For God’s sake, Roxanne—isn’t that what you wanted all along? Why the hell not?’
Roxy flinched. He made it sound as if her only intention had been to try to worm her way into his bed. ‘It isn’t important,’ she muttered.
‘Well, actually, it is. It’s important to me. I want you here with me tonight. In my house and in my bed.’ His voice lowered into a silken whisper. ‘And don’t you realise that I always get what I want?’
She realised only one thing at that moment and that was how two-faced he could be. This wasn’t some grand gesture of letting her know how important she was to him. He wanted her in his bed like some ego-feeding prize—while a few minutes ago he had just dismissed her to one of the guests as if she were worthless. She had been a shining star tonight and this was to be her reward. Restricted access had temporarily been lifted and Roxy Carmichael was being allowed into the ducal bed!
For a moment, she considered telling him just what he could do with his offer. That she knew exactly where she stood and maybe it was time she bid farewell to all her romantic dreams. But this sensible option was quickly superseded by another very emotional one. Because even while her heart rebelled at what he’d said about her—her body still ached for him as much as it had ever done. She wanted Titus Alexander and she loved him. So why shouldn’t she have one last night with him—a night that neither of them would ever forget?
‘Okay,’ she said, forcing all the dark doubts from her mind as she picked up the carrier bag containing her jeans, sweater and sheepskin boots. ‘I will.’
‘You certainly know how to keep a man on tenterhooks,’ he commented drily.
Roxy forced a smile. ‘I know where your bedroom is, of course—but perhaps you’d better take me up there yourself. I’d hate to run into Vanessa along the way. Then you can go back to your party and I’ll wait for you there.’
Titus shook his head. ‘But I’m not going anywhere. There’s only one party I’m interested in right now—and that’s the one which is going to take place in my bedroom.’
Roxy told herself that his corny words meant nothing but that didn’t stop her traitorous body from softening in response to them. He caught hold of her hand and she let him lead her through a set of corridors she’d never been in before and which turned out to be a short cut to his bedroom.
In normal circumstances she might have been intimidated by the thought of spending the night in the canopied four-poster bed, which looked impossibly large and grand. But what were normal circumstances? Roxy didn’t think she’d ever known what most people thought of as normality, though maybe everyone felt like that, deep down. You were always measuring your life against other people’s experiences—and your own always seemed to fall short.
Titus had shut the door and was now slipping the white fur stole from her shoulders. ‘How the hell did you manage to pull this off?’
Roxy forced a weak smile. If things had been different, she might have told this particular story with laughing recall—but now it just felt like an episode she’d rather forget.
‘There’s a dress-hire place in London,’ she said. ‘Someone I knew from my days in The Lollipops.’
‘Well, you look … amazing.’ Deliberately, he let the tip of his tongue slide against the parchment dryness of his lips. ‘Now come here before I die with frustration.’
Mindlessly, she went into his arms and let him kiss her. I’m going to miss this, she thought as she opened her mouth beneath his. I’m going to miss this so much. And wouldn’t you know it? That tonight he was kissing her with a passion which took her breath away, or maybe it was all made more profound by the significance of being in his stately home. It made what was about to happen seem unbearably poignant and she knew that she needed to slow the pace down. Pushing her hands against the hard muscle of his shoulders, she took a step back. ‘I’d … I’d better take this dress off.’
‘Here, let me.’
‘It’s very delicate.’
‘I think you’ll find that I can be gentle, Roxanne,’ he murmured.
She wanted to cry because she realised that he could. Very gentle. His fingertips were whispering so softly over her body that her heart felt as if it were about to shatter with hopeless longing.
He peeled the dress away from her body and made a barely audible sound as he stared at her. ‘You’re …’ He swallowed. ‘You’re not wearing anything underneath.’
‘I couldn’t—not even a thong, I’m afraid. It’s a very unforgiving dress.’
‘Roxanne—’ He said her name in a way he’d never said it before as he hung the dress on a chair and pulled her into his arms.
For one brief moment she wanted to ask why he had ruined everything—why he had denounced her in such a cruel way—but she was so fired up by desire that she began to undress him with a fervour which was equal to his.
He was laughing as she tugged the clothes from his body until they were both completely naked. Or at least, he was. Roxanne was still wearing the towering gold stilettos which put her eyes almost on a level with his. As if she’d read his thoughts, she bent to slide them off.
‘Don’t,’ he said roughly. ‘Leave them on.’
But Roxy shook her head as she ignored him and took them off anyway. She was through with playing any more parts. She wasn’t going to conveniently morph from Marilyn Monroe into his stereotype of a perfect lover—naked but for her glittery gold shoes. Tonight she wasn’t going to be anyone but herself—the essen
tial woman beneath all the different layers which had been constructed over time and by circumstance.
‘Kiss me,’ she said.
He heard the slight break in her voice and it spoke to something deep inside him as he carried her onto the bed, laying her down on the velvet crimson cover so that she looked like a medieval painting. He felt the bed dip beneath his weight as he joined her and began to kiss her, his mouth moving from her lips down to the cherry-tipped nipples. She writhed as she felt his tongue licking against her belly and she tugged at his shoulders, urging him back up—so that his face was looking down into hers.
