A Time to Dream Read online

As she lay shivering beneath the duvet, frightening images danced behind her closed eyelids. What if that spike of glass had pierced an artery? What if she had not taken Louise’s advice and made sure that her tetanus injections were up to date before moving to the country? What if…?

  Her teeth started to chatter so loudly as shock set in that she did not hear Luke return, until the sharp hiss of the breath he exhaled when he saw the state she was in alerted her to his presence. She opened her eyes, her heart jerking as though it were on a string like a yo-yo.

  Luke was carrying a tray, which he put down on the oak chest of drawers. It held an omelette on a plate, the sight of which made Melanie’s stomach churn even more nauseatingly, and what looked like a mug of coffee.

  ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Luke demanded as he approached the bed.

  ‘I feel so cold,’ Melanie told him shakily.

  ‘Cold?’

  To her consternation, he sat down beside her, casually sliding his hand beneath the duvet and placing it against her bare skin. The warmth made her shiver even harder and long to creep closer to him so that she could absorb the heat of his body. It was an instinctive, totally non-sexual need, but one which nevertheless made her tense in rejection of her own feelings.

  ‘You’ve lost quite a lot of blood,’ she heard Luke saying. He was frowning as he looked down at her. ‘Perhaps I should call a doctor, just…’

  Immediately Melanie shook her head. ‘No, no, there’s no need for that. I’m OK, really.’

  ‘Are you?’

  The brooding look her gave her made her focus on his face. He looked oddly gaunt and tense, and she had to quell an impulse to reach out and touch him.

  ‘Well, I wish I could say the same thing,’ he told her roughly, adding quickly in an impassioned voice, ‘My God, do you realise how close you came to—?’ He broke off and swallowed, a small muscle jerking under the smooth flesh of his jaw as he clenched his teeth and swore huskily. ‘Hell, Melanie, don’t you ever dare do anything like this to me again. You’ve knocked at least ten years off my life and I…’

  His voice became completely suspended. Melanie’s eyes widened with shock and awareness of the emotions he seemed unable to control. Was this really Luke, the same Luke who had virtually walked out on her, now gazing at her with what looked suspiciously like tears in his eyes, his fingers clenching and unclenching where he was gripping her arm?

  ‘Melanie, I’ve missed you so damned much.’

  She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he buried his face in the soft skin of her throat, his voice muffled as he told her, ‘When I saw you fall on to that glass I…’

  He gave a violent shudder, his lips searching convulsively for the pulse of the life force beating in her throat. The sensation of the moist heat of his mouth against her skin sent bolt after bolt of unbearable reaction shooting through her body.

  Her nausea, her weakness, her determination to expel him from her life were all forgotten as she clung dizzily to him, knowing with some deep female instinct that, no matter how fierce and elemental his passion might become in the aftermath of his shock, it would still be tempered by tenderness; that, no matter how intense his need to possess her might be, it would never turn to selfish greed; that in fact, no matter how savage the storm that swept them both might be, he would still keep her safe.

  Quite how she knew these things was beyond logic or reason; it was a soul-deep knowing; an instinctive awareness; something she could not challenge no matter how much caution might try to urge her to resist the fierce pull of both his and her own growing desire.

  Once it would have shamed and shocked her to know that she could feel this way; that a man, especially this man, simply had to touch her for all her resolutions to forget him to vanish like early morning mist in the heat of the sunlight.

  But not now. Not now, with Luke tugging away the duvet that separated their bodies, his hands trembling betrayingly, while his mouth continued to plunder the soft skin of her throat and the heat of his body, even through his clothes, burned hers as though it had been exposed to a direct flame.

  ‘Melanie, if I’d lost you…’

  She could almost feel the emotion in the tortured words he stifled against her skin. Beneath her palm, his heart was racing fiercely, pounding its message of desire and urgency into her own flesh until she could feel its echo right through her body.

  When his hands moved gently over her body to remove what was left of her clothing she moved eagerly to assist him, and then watched, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed, as he then removed his own with a lot more haste and a lot less care.

  Once she would have been embarrassed, ashamed even, of her own nudity, and certainly she would have felt alarmed and threatened by his; but now it was awe and delight that made her catch her breath at the sight of his maleness, that made her ache to reach out and touch him, to stroke her fingertips over his skin and feel if it was as satiny and hot as it looked.

  Wonderingly she studied the flesh that lay over muscles and bones so different from her own, her fascinated gaze travelling the length and then the breadth of the male body so close to hers.

  Where her body was soft and curved, Luke’s was taut and hard, the flesh drawn sleekly over the underlying muscles. Where her skin was smooth and delicate, his was rough with the growth of dark hair that her fingers itched to touch to discover if it felt as vibrant with life as it looked. As her gaze followed its path downward across his flat belly, it lingered helplessly on the maleness of his body. This intimacy was all so new to her and yet she felt no doubt, no confusion, no apprehension, only a growing, gathering need which had begun as a secret sweet ache between her thighs and was now swiftly spreading all through her body so that when Luke groaned and reached out to cup her breasts with his hands, her flesh was already receptive to his touch, her body quivering in silent expectation as he whispered against her skin. ‘Melanie, don’t look at me like that. I want to make this first time between us special. I want to make it last; I want to give you so much pleasure, but if you keep on looking at me in that way I won’t be able to stop myself thinking about how it’s going to feel, having your hands on my body—and not just your hands.’ He groaned rawly, his teeth erotically savage as they tugged gently against her sensitive skin, his words conjuring up for her mental visions of such intimacy that her body grew hot and her eyes unconsciously mirrored the intensity of her thoughts.

  Luke had stopped using his teeth on her vulnerable flesh and instead was sucking gently and slowly on one eagerly receptive nipple, while his free hand spread possessively against her lower stomach, and her body writhed in helpless sensual delight.

  She wanted to touch him; to arouse him in the same way that he was arousing her.

  ‘You’ve got the most wonderful skin,’ Luke told her thickly. ‘So sensitive, so responsive, I want to taste every last inch of it.’

  She couldn’t control the quiver that tormented her; already aroused by the sensual messages his touch was sending to her nervous system, her body jerked convulsively at his husky intimation that he desired and wanted to caress her so intimately.

  As though her very silence was a secret verbal sign of assent he began slowly and tenderly to caress her whole body with his mouth, and although Melanie had no awareness of any impatience or urgency on his part, with every lingering caress of his tongue, with every subtle caress of his mouth, she found that he was feeding the need that was already burning so dangerously out of control within herself.

  Many times more than once the sensation of his mouth against her skin made her twist frantically against him and cry out in urgent aching need for the completion for which her whole body hungered; but no matter how much she arched against him, her breath panting from her throat, her body taut with desire, he would not be hurried so that each caress, each lingering adoration threatened to drive her closer and closer to the edge of her self-control.

  When his
mouth eventually settled against the most intimate part of her body, she was so aroused and eager for his touch that she had no thought of stopping him, of protesting against such intimacy, his name a long drawn-out moan of pleasure wrenched from her throat as she gasped for air, torn between fighting the waves of pleasure shivering through her body and giving in to them—welcoming them, inviting them, she realised shudderingly as she heard the soft male sounds of satisfaction that Luke made against her flesh.

  Quite when he stopped subjecting her to the sensual delight of that intimate caress and instead positioned her body so that he could show her how much their intimacy had aroused him, she had no idea.

  All she knew was that, in some kind of hazy and completely natural way, it seemed only a heartbeat or so before the heat of his mouth was replaced by a different kind of heat, the urgency she had felt giving way to a sharper, keener urgency that made her move her body against his in an age-old rhythm and invitation.

  It there was pain, she didn’t feel it; all her senses were concentrated instead on savouring the immense, unexpected and totally overwhelming surges of pleasure his possession of her brought.

  She felt her body convulse, her quickened breathing ceasing abruptly in a shocked gasp, and then Luke was calling to her, his body straining as though straining against some invisible bonds, his skin hot and damp where it touched her own, his flesh hard and urgent within the soft sheath of hers until suddenly he too reached the pinnacle she had just attained, bringing his body to a shuddering release.

  When he drew her into his arms, holding her close, whispering soft words of praise in her ear, stroking his fingers through the silkiness of her hair, kissing the vulnerable curve of her throat and jaw, she lay trembling against him, too awed by all that had happened to speak, too shy all of a sudden to tell him, as he was telling her, how much pleasure he had given her.

  She had no awareness of falling asleep, of being drawn even closer to Luke’s body so that they lay together in the intimate tangle that belonged only to lovers, but when ultimately she did wake up it was to find that Luke was still there with her, holding her so securely that, for the first time in her whole life, the loneliness which had always been such an unwanted part of her, such a heavy burden to her, had been banished completely.

  When he saw that she was awake, Luke smoothed the hair back off her face and whispered against her mouth, ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

  Melanie thought he must be referring to her cut leg, and shook her head, blushing a little as she recalled how quickly and easily she had forgotten her pain once Luke started to make love to her.

  ‘No?’ he pressed, feathering the words against her lips. ‘Are you sure?’

  His concern for her, his tenderness towards her, thrilled and delighted her. A huge bubble of happiness seemed to expand inside her, making her feel that if he let go of her she would probably float ecstatically up to the ceiling. But he wasn’t letting go of her; he was holding on to her very firmly indeed, repeating huskily, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure, I’m sure,’ Melanie teased him, laughing up at him as she asked innocently, ‘What would you like me to do to prove it?’

  Her breath caught abruptly in her throat, her skin turning fiery red as she saw the look in his eyes, and knew immediately that he wanted to make love to her again.

  She couldn’t quite conceal her shock from him, her lips parting, her mouth silently forming the word ‘again’ as she focused uncertainly on him.

  ‘Only if you want to,’ he assured her.

  Only if she wanted to. A sudden and totally unexpected little tremor went through her body, telling her something about her own sensuality which she hadn’t previously known. She caught her breath and gazed at him with wide, slightly shocked eyes, but when he caught hold of her hands and guided them slowly to his body, showing her how much he wanted her to caress him she found that just the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips was enough to turn her own body to liquid heat and to re-ignite the fires she had thought thoroughly satiated by their earlier lovemaking.

  This time he was the one who moaned in eager pleasure as she touched him first with her hands and then later, when she grew more confident and more aroused, with her mouth, until he trembled openly, whispering to her that she was tormenting him with what she was doing, telling her how much he needed to hold her, to touch her, to make love with her.

  It was late in the afternoon when she woke up again. Luke wasn’t in bed with her this time. Instead he was sitting on the side of the bed, fully dressed, watching her with an oddly sombre look that made her heart skip a beat, and apprehension took the place of the drowsy satiation with which she had awoken.

  ‘Luke, is something wrong?’ she asked him huskily. ‘Is—?’

  ‘No, nothing’s wrong. There’s just something I have to do.’ He stood up. ‘I’m going to leave you for a while, but when I come back…when I come back we’ll talk.’

  Talk about what? she wondered worriedly once he had gone. But, much as she longed to ask that question, Melanie kept silent. Not once when he had made love to her had Luke actually mentioned the word ‘love’. At the time it hadn’t bothered her because she had felt secure in his lovemaking, so sure that she was loved that the words hadn’t seemed necessary; but now, faced with his obvious withdrawal from her, with the apprehension which was quickly filling her, after he’d taken his leave of her, she couldn’t help wondering anxiously if she had perhaps misjudged the situation; if perhaps he didn’t love her after all; if…if what? What was the point in torturing herself like this? He was coming back and when he did they would talk. In the meantime…

  In the meantime she was going to get up, have a bath, get dressed and have something to eat. And when Luke did come back…

  Her whole body flushed as she realised just where her thoughts were taking her, just how receptive and eager she already was to the thought of further lovemaking. Would Luke suggest staying the night with her? Would he?

  Quickly she got out of bed, ignoring the dull ache in her cut leg, and grimacing a little at the wide bandage Luke had tied round it. She was hardly likely to cut a glamorous and seductive figure with that, she thought, although fortunately it would be covered by her skirt. She wondered how long Luke would be and if she would have enough time for all the things she needed to do—such as washing her hair…changing the bed… She blushed again, still a little shocked by the sensuality of her own thoughts, and then limped a little awkwardly into the bathroom, pausing only to collect some fresh underwear on her way.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  TWO hours later Melanie’s hair shone silkily, her make-up discreetly enhanced the glow of her skin and the brightness of her eyes, the soft full-skirted dress she was wearing was cinched in with a belt that emphasised the narrowness of her waist, and her skin was subtly perfumed with the scent of the expensive soap which had been a Christmas present from Louise.

  In the sitting-room a fire burned cosily in the hearth. She had made herself a meal and eaten it. She had even changed the bed, though hurriedly averting her eyes from the small bright stain on the sheet she had been removing.

  The sight of that stain had been rather unexpected. Somehow she had not expected her virginity to leave behind such a visible proof of its existence. It made the memory of their lovemaking even more intimate and erotic somehow…made her body quicken and her pulses race…made her shockingly aware of how easily Luke had awakened her to the intensity of her own sexuality.

  She trembled in acknowledgement of how much she loved him, of how vulnerable that loving made her.

  Another ten minutes passed, and then her stomach muscles jerked nervously as she heard the sound of a car draw up outside.

  Somehow she managed not to give in to the temptation to rush to the window, but waited instead until she’d heard the brief knock on the front door.

  It surprised her a little that Luke should use the front door, since in the past he had always come to the back, but sh
e went to open it nonetheless, hoping that her eagerness, her mixed feelings of apprehension and delight didn’t show too obviously in her face; yet when she opened the door it wasn’t Luke who was standing there. It was a young woman. The same young woman she had seen staring so sneeringly at her from the passenger seat of a large BMW car.

  ‘So you’re still here, then,’ the young woman said disparagingly as she pushed past Melanie and into the hallway. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. Luke said you were as hard as they come.’

  Luke? Luke knew this woman… A cold feeling of dread seized Melanie as she turned to face her adversary. ‘Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you want—’ she began uncomfortably.

  ‘Liar! You know who I am well enough. I’m David Hewitson’s daughter Lucinda, and Luke’s fiancée ; and as to what I want… What I want, Miss Foden is for Luke to get what’s rightfully his.’

  She heard Melanie’s shocked gasp and said maliciously, ‘What’s wrong? Hasn’t Luke told you yet about our engagement?’ She waved her left hand in front of Melanie’s stunned gaze. A huge sapphire and diamond ring sparkled on her third finger, the stones as cold as ice, the same ice which was slowly starting to encase Melanie’s own heart, chilling her whole body, making her shiver with a mixture of shock and despair.

  Did this woman…this fiancée know that Luke had spent the whole afternoon with her, making love to her? Was that why she was here, to warn her against taking anything Luke said or did too seriously, to warn her that he was practically a married man?

  Suddenly Melanie had an urgent need to be physically sick. She turned her back on the other woman, saying thickly, ‘Excuse me, but—’

  ‘No, I won’t excuse you, damn you!’ Lucinda Hewitson told her viciously, digging long sharp nails into Melanie’s arm as she caught hold of her and bodily imprisoned her.

  She was a much taller girl than Melanie, bigger boned and heavier, but it wasn’t physical fear that made Melanie wince and try to break free of her; it was the malice, the sheer hatred she could see glittering in the other woman’s eyes. And yet didn’t she have every right to hate her? Melanie acknowledged dully. After all, she was Luke’s fiancée…Luke’s fiancée… She had to swallow sharply on the bile souring her throat.