he reproved, 'and coarse. I didn't know you knew such a word. Don't ever let me hear you say it again.'
Hester was defiant. She repeated it loud and clear— and then wished she hadn't. Demetrios was on his feet in one sinuous movement, his arms were round her like steel bands and she was hauled close against his broad chest. The scent of aftershave and cologne assailed her nostrils, the warmth of his body against hers made a mockery of her independence. She held his gaze defiantly for as long as she could and then, with a little moan, closed her eyes as she felt every bit of pride and independence drain away, leaving her weak and wanting.
'That's better,' he approved, releasing one arm and wiping her mouth with his handkerchief before he kissed her. It was a kind of drowning in bliss, she thought, while she was still capable of thought, that nothing she had ever heard, read or thought had prepared her for this. She shivered uncontrollably as his arms relaxed their pressure and his hands stroked and soothed, bringing her even closer to him—and then she wasn't soothed at all, she was filled with a fierce hunger, an almost unbearable need. Tears welled into her eyes at the pain of it, she gave a little sob, and suddenly he had released her and stepped back.
The movement was so swift, she almost fell, and she blinked dazedly, her eyes refusing to focus properly.
'Everything in its right place and in the correct order.' Demetrios sounded as shaken as she was, and then his voice took on the old amused tone. 'It's the accountant in me, so stop tempting, my brown-haired witch. It's going to be great and glorious, but not here and not now.'
'Oh!' The words brought her back to earth with a bump, she was no longer floating weightlessly on Cloud Nine but back in her rather third rate bedsit, the carpet worn and faded and her tights soaking in the handbasin. Looking past him, she could see into the tiny bathroom through the partially open door to where a half empty packet of soap powder balanced drunkenly on the shelf above the basin. The sight restored her to normality more quickly than if she had been suddenly immersed in cold water.
'Turning on the charm?' Her mouth felt bruised and she lifted a shaking hand to steady her lips. 'It won't work so well next time, I'm building up an immunity.' She was tired of conflict and her shoulders sagged. 'I know a very safe place for the money—you can come with me if you like.'
She had a choice; either she could take it straight to Mia—which was what she wanted, if only to see the relief and delight which would light her foster-sister's face—or she could take it to Crispin's place, a studio apartment in Chelsea, but taking it home to Poplar would mean that Demetrios would meet Mia, and Flo wouldn't let a visitor go—especially a man who came with Hester—not without seeing him and talking to him.
Hester dismissed the Poplar idea. Flo thought her stay in Switzerland was being organised by the National Health, and although Mia knew better, knew how the money was really being obtained, she didn't know about Demetrios' conditions. Flo wouldn't stand for what she'd done and Mia would balk at this strange marriage, then all Hester's hard work would be wasted. Crispin's it should be, and at least he had a safe.
'You'll get a bit of a surprise,' she mused, thinking of Crispin's Art Nouveau decor, his Oriental cushions and mad lighting effects. 'It's my boss's place—I believe you spoke to him on the telephone today.' That reminded her of his high-handed ways. 'What right had you to tell him I was leaving—to arrange it for me?' She scowled and her eyes glittered. 'You made me look an absolute fool! You should have left it to me, and when you'd made the arrangements, I'd have given in my notice in the usual way.' She stuffed her feet into her shoes and grabbed her coat from the hook, disdaining any help with it, and finally scrabbled in her bag for one of Crispin's cards which she
Hester was defiant. She repeated it loud and clear— and then wished she hadn't. Demetrios was on his feet in one sinuous movement, his arms were round her like steel bands and she was hauled close against his broad chest. The scent of aftershave and cologne assailed her nostrils, the warmth of his body against hers made a mockery of her independence. She held his gaze defiantly for as long as she could and then, with a little moan, closed her eyes as she felt every bit of pride and independence drain away, leaving her weak and wanting.
'That's better,' he approved, releasing one arm and wiping her mouth with his handkerchief before he kissed her. It was a kind of drowning in bliss, she thought, while she was still capable of thought, that nothing she had ever heard, read or thought had prepared her for this. She shivered uncontrollably as his arms relaxed their pressure and his hands stroked and soothed, bringing her even closer to him—and then she wasn't soothed at all, she was filled with a fierce hunger, an almost unbearable need. Tears welled into her eyes at the pain of it, she gave a little sob, and suddenly he had released her and stepped back.
The movement was so swift, she almost fell, and she blinked dazedly, her eyes refusing to focus properly.
'Everything in its right place and in the correct order.' Demetrios sounded as shaken as she was, and then his voice took on the old amused tone. 'It's the accountant in me, so stop tempting, my brown-haired witch. It's going to be great and glorious, but not here and not now.'
'Oh!' The words brought her back to earth with a bump, she was no longer floating weightlessly on Cloud Nine but back in her rather third rate bedsit, the carpet worn and faded and her tights soaking in the handbasin. Looking past him, she could see into the tiny bathroom through the partially open door to where a half empty packet of soap powder balanced drunkenly on the shelf above the basin. The sight restored her to normality more quickly than if she had been suddenly immersed in cold water.
'Turning on the charm?' Her mouth felt bruised and she lifted a shaking hand to steady her lips. 'It won't work so well next time, I'm building up an immunity.' She was tired of conflict and her shoulders sagged. 'I know a very safe place for the money—you can come with me if you like.'
She had a choice; either she could take it straight to Mia—which was what she wanted, if only to see the relief and delight which would light her foster-sister's face—or she could take it to Crispin's place, a studio apartment in Chelsea, but taking it home to Poplar would mean that Demetrios would meet Mia, and Flo wouldn't let a visitor go—especially a man who came with Hester—not without seeing him and talking to him.
Hester dismissed the Poplar idea. Flo thought her stay in Switzerland was being organised by the National Health, and although Mia knew better, knew how the money was really being obtained, she didn't know about Demetrios' conditions. Flo wouldn't stand for what she'd done and Mia would balk at this strange marriage, then all Hester's hard work would be wasted. Crispin's it should be, and at least he had a safe.
'You'll get a bit of a surprise,' she mused, thinking of Crispin's Art Nouveau decor, his Oriental cushions and mad lighting effects. 'It's my boss's place—I believe you spoke to him on the telephone today.' That reminded her of his high-handed ways. 'What right had you to tell him I was leaving—to arrange it for me?' She scowled and her eyes glittered. 'You made me look an absolute fool! You should have left it to me, and when you'd made the arrangements, I'd have given in my notice in the usual way.' She stuffed her feet into her shoes and grabbed her coat from the hook, disdaining any help with it, and finally scrabbled in her bag for one of Crispin's cards which she
Similar Books
