Dark Summer Dawn by Sara Craven

lightest touch would always have had on her. But she doubted it. If he had ever touched her in the past, then it would have been in a brotherly way, but now the soft movement of his hand on her skin was telling her quite clearly that there was no kinship between them except that of the flesh.
    He said softly, 'You're trembling, Lisa. Is it because you're worried about the storm or—is it this?'
    He bent towards her and his mouth brushed across hers in a featherlight touch that made her lips feel oddly bruised.
    She gasped, and her lips parted, mutely inviting the repetition of his kiss. He drew a sharp breath, staring down at her, his eyes suddenly harsh and bright, and then his mouth descended on hers with a searching intensity which drove all coherent, sane thought from her mind.
    She was conscious of nothing but Dane, his hands holding her, the weight of his body pinning her against the cushions. Her response was total, unequivocal. She had hungered for him for months and not known it, or not admitted it, but now she knew, and her admission was made in a whimper of satisfaction against the hardness of his mouth.
    His kiss deepened and demanded beyond the possibility of her experience. She was swimming in deep waters, caught by unknown currents, and she was content to let the floodtide of untried emotions carry her along.
    She had always hated him, never trusted him, yet now he was all her senses craved, and she submitted unquestioningly to his ruthless invasion of her awakening senses.
    His hands were no longer gripping her bruisingly, but moving with slow expert sensuality, moulding her against him, making every inch of her conscious of the same aching excitement. Under their thin Indian cotton covering, her breasts were full and throbbing, the nipples swollen as they pushed against the warm muscular wall of his chest.
    The bodice was low and square-necked, fastened by half a dozen tiny buttons covered in the same material as the dress. Very slowly and deliberately, without fumbling, he began to unfasten the buttons. The dress fell away and Dane looked down at her, his breathing perceptibly quickening. Then he bent his head and his tongue gently teased first one delicate pink bud, and then the other.
    Lisa was hardly breathing. Her eyes were wide and very brilliant, glowing with the delight of her first experience of physical enslavement.
    His mouth lingered on her breasts, his lips and tongue tracing small erotic patterns on her skin, while his hands slid slowly downwards, losing themselves among the soft folds of her skirt. Dimly she was aware of the music swelling and soaring. Daybreak, she thought dazedly, the beginning of life, the dawning of joy—each and every daybreak in Dane's arms.
    And then like a sudden shower of cold water, she heard another sound, brisk and intrusive, the sound of Mrs Arkwright's footsteps coming along the corridor, and the swift, sharp knock on the door.
    The sweet sensual spell which seemed to bind them was broken. Dane jack-knifed away from her with a muttered curse, feverishly raking his fingers through his dishevelled hair.
    He said in a savage undertone, 'Fasten your dress,' as he piled the used crockery back on to the tray. Lisa obeyed, but her shaking fingers made her clumsy, and Mrs Arkwright knocked again impatiently. At last she forced the last button back through its loop and Dane called, 'Come in.' He was standing over by the french windows looking out into the garden, holding back one of the long velvet curtains.
    Mrs Arkwright came bustling in, then checked. 'I didn't know Miss Lisa was here, sir.'
    Lisa felt herself flushing as she heard the disapproval in the housekeeper's voice. The fact that she and Dane were now on opposite sides of the room meant nothing. Mrs Arkwright was no fool and the rumpled sofa probably told its own story.
    Dane said coolly, 'Does it matter?'
    'It's just that there was a phone call for her, sir. I daresay you didn't hear the phone because of the