A Masterful Man

'While, for another thing,' he said barely audibly as he looked down at her and raised a hand to touch her cheek, 'we want each other and there's not a damned thing we can do to change it.' 'No.' She swallowed. 'I mean there is…' 'No, you were right the first time, Davina, there's not. Let me show you.' And his arms closed round her and for the life of her, despite her agitation and confusion, it was impossible not to feel safe suddenly. 'Steve…'

But he started to kiss her, deeply and searchingly, and his hands moved on her body finding the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, caressing the bare skin of her back and moulding her to him. Then he moved one hand to her hair and the pins she'd used fell out and he spread his fingers through its thick, silken disarray before he released the halter bow at the back of her neck-and all the while he held her against the strong, hard length of him and kissed her as she'd never been kissed before. So that she was conscious only of him and the intimate plundering that neither hurt nor repelled her but did strange things to the pit of her stomach, as if a slow fire was starting to burn and spread through her whole body. A languorous warmth sparked with a dangerously mounting sense of excitement, a tingling all over her, a sense of relief that she could be made to feel like this after all, and a sense of wonder at the marvellous feel of him against her. A desire to explore him as he was her and feel the muscles of his back and shoulders under her hands, the taut diaphragm, to see her skin against his…

But she gasped as he lifted his head at last, gasped a little for breath, but also because she hadn't wanted it to end, and because his long fingers drew the front of her dress away, exposing her breasts. 'Steve…' Her eyes were suddenly wary. But he said, 'Shh… I'm not going to hurt you.' Nor did he, as he still held her with an arm around her waist and used his free hand to touch first one nipple then the other and the most exquisite sensation ran through her body.

'Oh, God,' she whispered and tilted her head back, closing her eyes as those fingers strayed briefly to the soft skin beneath her arm and then he bent his head again and trailed his lips down the column of her neck to the valley between her breasts and, once again in turn, took each nipple in his mouth.

'Steve…please…' Her body trembled in his arms with desire and unthinkingly she raised a hand and pressed it through his hair. 'It's too much…'

'Perhaps you're right-for here,' he murmured, raising his head and looking into her eyes. 'But now do you see, Davina?'

She couldn't answer as her lashes fluttered up and down; she couldn't breathe properly, she found. Her pulses were still racing and she yearned for him to touch her again because it had been the sweetest kind of torture she'd ever known, and it was more than torture to have to stop… As the weight of all this hit her, delicate colour flooded her cheeks, her neck and her breasts, and her eyes dilated suddenly.

'Hey,' he said softly. 'Don't for one moment think you're alone. Letting you go now is going to take about every ounce of will-power I possess, but I've just had a thought.' And he moved her slightly away so he could do up her dress. 'There,' he said with a faint, grave smile and his arms still around her. 'Almost proper. Will you be all right if I leave for a few minutes?'

'Y-yes,' she stammered, 'but-'

He kissed her forehead. 'Don't worry about it, and don't go anywhere; I'll be right back.'

He was gone for about fifteen minutes, however. During which time Davina took several minutes to get herself under some sort of control.

She picked up her scattered hair pins from the carpet and tried to put her hair up again, but there was no mirror so she gave up and combed it as best she could with her fingers. Then she noticed the glass of brandy on the table and had to stifle a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter after she'd taken a large swallow of it. Finally, she stood in the middle of the room with her arms protectively around her and thought, Would it be so bad to be looked after for a while? Even by a man who is a mystery in a lot of ways?

And he is, she thought with sudden intensity. He may be able to arouse me as no other, but can he ever love me? I don't know… I do know he can be hard sometimes, and does he even believe in lifelong love? Why hasn't he found it yet? Is there some secret in his past I don't know about? Why do I get the feeling he could be as cynical in his own way as I am? Does he know that I sometimes feel contaminated…?

The door opened and her eyes jerked to Steve Warwick's in sudden fright. 'What is it?' he said with a frown. 'I…' She cleared her throat. 'What are you going to do? I couldn't-' She stopped uncertainly.

He studied her upturned, pale face for a moment, then his lips twisted. 'Neither could I. So we're going away. Don't worry, I've sorted it all out with that pair of ill-assorted matchmakers. Come.' And he held out his hand to her. 'Or do I have to kiss you again to make you?' he added very quietly.

She blushed, hesitated, but he took her hand and led her out of the den.

'Where are we going?'

'You'll see.'

Davina twisted her hands in her lap and tensed as they approached the turn-off to the airfield but Steve drove past. Tensed because her bag and camera case was on the back seat of the Land Rover with another bag-his, she presumed. To a guest-house, then? she wondered as they drove past Blinkys and on to Lagoon Road. I couldn't stand that, it would be as good as telling the whole world!

But he drove past the last guest-house and in the twilight past Old Settlement Beach and up, it appeared, towards the Catalina crash site. But, as the road petered out and she knew there was only grassy paddock riding up towards the contours of Malabar, he turned off into a driveway almost hidden by huge trees and pulled the Land Rover up before an old small house, nearly lost beneath the Norfolk Pines and Sallywoods surrounding it.

'Please, tell me what this is,' she said breathlessly.

'A retreat,' he said lightly. 'It's the original Warwick dwelling on Lord Howe. Lavinia actually came here as a bride sixty-odd years ago, and lately she's restored it. I'm not sure whether for sentimental reasons or because she's toying with the idea of opening it to the public as an example of how they lived in bygone eras on the island. I don't know if I'd let her do that,' he said meditatively. 'She keeps telling me I have no use for it now I've built the other house but it's nice to come back to sometimes. Come inside and tell me what you think.'

'It's…' Davina stopped and looked around in wonder again, a bit lost for words. Because the cottage-and it was no larger than that and lit with kerosene lamps- was like taking a step back in time. The walls were wooden, vertical pine planks a little uneven in places and stained a warm honey colour. The sitting-room and kitchen were all in one, with a huge fireplace surrounded by cream and pink floral cretonne-covered fat armchairs and sofa at one end and a large black, aggressively polished range at the other. The furniture, dining table and chairs were a mixture of natural and white painted pine and there were tapestry footstools in front of the armchairs, starched white curtains at the window and copper-based lamps with pretty floral glasses around the wicks. There was also a mantel running right round the room about three-quarters of the way up the walls from which pictures hung with their strings exposed in the old-fashioned way, and ornaments sat upon-some of them even Limoges, she thought with a lift of an eyebrow. 'It's wonderful,' she said at last. 'Come and see the bedrooms.' There were three, and he left the main bedroom to last. Davina caught her breath as he ushered her in ahead of him. Because it was dominated by a beautiful brass and white enamel old four-poster bed that was clothed all in crisp white. A white linen cover edged and trimmed with exquisite handmade lace, white broderie anglaise-covered pillows piled up on it and two bedside tables, also covered in white linen skirts with more lace and satin bows and two matching sets of delftware basin and ewer. There were blue and white handwoven rugs on each side of the bed and a marvellous brassbound pine glory-box at the foot of the bed.

She couldn't resist the smile that curved her lips as she surveyed the room. 'Like it?' he queried.

'It's lovely,' she said genuinely. 'But-'

'I know,' he said with a wry lift of his eyebrow. 'Lavinia has gone a bit overboard here. I don't remember this room like this. The laundry and starching work alone involved would be horrific. But I believe it did all belong to my great-grandmother-she just kept it in the box, mostly.'

Davina smiled again and then turned tohim with her expression sobering. 'How long…I mean…?' She couldn't go on and moistened her lips.

'How long do I plan to keep you here?' He looked into her eyes, observed the shadows there and reached out absently to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. 'Only aslong as you want to stay.'