The Art of Retaliation by Arabella Kingsley

allow him to lay
it around her neck.   He fastened the
clasp and cupped her naked shoulders with his hands, bending down to see the
reaction he hoped for in the mirror.   She didn’t disappoint him.

 
    “Are you sure?   You
really want me to wear this?   I
shouldn’t.   It is gorgeous,” she
frowned.   “More bribes, Mr Garreau ?”

 
    He ignored the comment.

 
    “It was my Grandmother’s.   She left it to me for when . . .” he stopped.   “Well it doesn’t matter.   I just thought it might cheer you
up.   It fits really well.   You are very like my father’s
mother.   I just wish she was here to see you in it.   You would have liked her.”

 
    He dipped his eyes to the floor.

 
    “She wouldn’t be very happy with me for what I’ve done, neither
would my father.”

 
    “I take it that your Grandmother meant a lot to you?”

 
    He gently stroked her shoulders.

 
    “Yes an awful lot.   I got
on better with her than my mother.”

 
    “I shouldn’t wear it.   It’s not right I . . .” she stuttered suddenly uncomfortable.

 
    Mara laughed.   For all of
their arguments and dueling Mara liked it when he laughed and when he
smiled.   That’s when he allowed her
a glimpse of the real mischievous Stephane .   The one she would like to get to know.

 
    “Would it make you feel better if I told that you had to wear it,
that I wasn’t giving you any choice?”

 
    “Something like that,” she answered truthfully.

 
    “You know, Ms Logan you are a very
beautiful woman,” he whispered brushing against her neck and hair with the side
of his face to inhale her scent.

 
    Her eyes returned the appreciative glance and swept over him with
words unspoken.   There was an intoxicating
smell of cedarwood and lemon inviting her to move
nearer.   He was so close, she wanted
to wrap her body around his own and drink him in.   Her thoughts shook her but however much
she tried to deny it, she wanted him to make love to her right there and then
and damn the consequences.

 
    The shoulders that she had been holding stiff and erect loosened
under his gentle touch and her skin softened and became supple.   Her legs uncrossed and parted together
with her moist lips.   She was
sending him a coded message, slipping into enemy hands betraying her cause with
treason.   He lowered his lips to her
shoulder and trailed a path of warm kisses to her neck.   She turned to face him, to object but
his fingers against her lips silenced her protest before it was even
spoken.   He made her stand and then
took her mouth, invading the soft inviting wetness and tugged at the towel that
opened obediently at her back.   The
cool air of the room settled against her bare skin leaving her feeling
vulnerable before him but strangely undeterred by the path of his fingers down
her spine.

 
 
 
    Stephane watched
the progress of his hand over her shoulder in the mirror until it glided over
her contours to rest on a firm rounded buttock that pouted at him. He allowed
his hand to linger.   The skin was so
soft and fragile there, still pink from the shower.   He had an urge to slap it make it quiver
against his hand but chose instead to cup the flesh and grip it
possessively.   The effect was
devastating.   Her hips molded
against his and rose to meet his arousal that was strong and ardent sheathed
behind his trousers.

 
    He heard Mara moan when he deepened his kiss once more after she’d
whispered his name in a gasp of pleasure.   He wanted to hear her gasp it again, make her scream it under him whilst
he took her pleasure to new heights that she never would have felt with Ryan or
would again.   He supported her with
his palm in the centre of her back and eased her back
over it to remove the rest of the towel.

 
    “Mara, have you finished.   You have to get into your dress.”

 
    Maxine was opening the door and barging through it.   Mara gave a startled cry and moved