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She moved to open the door for him but Caradoc’s hand on it stilled her. He stood before her, his large frame blocking hers from the cool wind. “How far are we from Bagleyhurst?”
He saw her neck knot as she swallowed. “About an hour.”
“Good.” He didn’t touch her, though he wanted to very badly. “I will have to attend to my step-mother and step-sister when we arrive.” His face was briefly pained. “But I would like to speak to you. Alone.”
“We’re alone now,” she reminded him, her voice barely a whisper.
“Mmm,” he agreed, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. “But here is not appropriate for what I have in mind.”
Again, she swallowed, her slim neck visibly moving with the action. “What do you have in mind?”
“Come to me later and I will show you.”
His meaning was abundantly clear. But Finn’s heart was not.
She pulled the door open, not remotely apologetic when it clipped him on the side. He shot her a look of amusement and slid into the back seat.
Finn wished as she took her seat and flared the engine to life that she’d let this booking go to someone else. Only she’d wanted to get out of London and, at the time, the country had sounded sublime.
Now?
She felt claustrophobic and trapped.
And her body was vibrating with pleasure and hope. Was this man really suggesting what she thought he was? Was it possible that Caradoc found her as desirable as he was suggesting?
Seraphina had dated a few men. She was twenty three, not thirteen. She knew that she was passably pretty. But she’d never been the kind of woman men crossed rooms for. She was the mate. The friend. The buddy. The girl who was more at home playing pool and darts, drinking cider and watching rugby than she was pulling on fancy dresses and makeup. She was certainly not the kind of woman this man usually went for. She didn’t know how she knew that with such confidence, but she did. He was far too masculine. Too powerful and commanding. He would gravitate towards women who were happy to be dominated and used.
Used?
Where had that come from? Her eyes beetled together but she didn’t look in the mirror, as she was tempted to.
And what of Finn? Her boyfriends had all been kind, gentle, average men. Guys she’d got to know first as friends and then felt something more develop. These relationships had ended as softly as they’d begun.
None had filled her with this swamp of feeling.
So what did she want?
And more importantly, was she imagining this? Was it all in her head? Wishful thinking?
She expelled a soft breath and tried to put it out of her mind. But how could she? He was less than a metre away from her. She could hear his breathing and smell his swarthy masculine fragrance. And without looking at him, she could see him clearly.
She almost groaned in frustration, but stopped herself just in time. Her on-board navigation system flared at her and she followed its directions, turning into yet another laneway, this one without lighting. She brightened her headlamps and followed the map, taking two more turns before reaching the large imposing hedge that skirted Bagleyhurst.
It ran for miles to one side of the car before a pair of closed wrought iron gates loomed straight ahead. She swung towards them and lowered her window, so that she could announce Caradoc Moore’s arrival. Cold air blasted into the car and Finn was glad for it. It was a wake up call. A sense of reality breaking through the sensual warmth she’d been enjoying.
The gates opened with a small grunt of complaint. Finn drove through them slowly. The path was wide, and pale, and elegant gardens met it on either side, before opening up to wide sprawling lawn.
A lake came out of nowhere as she turned a gentle corner, and then the house loomed large, like something from a gothic novel.
Only it didn’t loom. It glowed. It smiled. It welcomed.
“Oh,” she couldn’t help exclaiming, as her eyes landed on it with an appreciative thud. She slowed the car to a stop, unable to help her curiosity from brimming forth.
Bagleyhurst was enormous. Her eyes roamed from end to end, and she imagined it had to be at least two hundred metres long, with thousands of windows overlooking the lake. It was three stories high, and fronted in stone, with turrets and acorns emerging at regular intervals at the very top. There were plane trees on either side, and every window appeared to be lit, sending milky warm shadows out over the lake.
“Not a bad pile, huh?” He said, his own eyes mirroring her exploration with considerably less wonderment.
Finn shook her head to clear the web of admiration and pushed the car forward. She stopped at the entrance way, and then stepped from the vehicle with every intention of opening the rear passenger door.
