Loved Intensely (UNEDITED)

Chapter 3

She was gone when he woke. Somehow she'd
managed to get out of the bed without waking him,
had dressed and left already. He swore softly.
Perhaps she'd already even left the estate. He sat
up abruptly and pushed the thought aside. No - she
couldn't have gone. He could not have waited three
years for this, only to have her slip away. She'd
already left him once - she never would again.
With another small curse James swung his feet over
the side of the bed, stood, and stretched. His gaze
fell on the pair of handcuffs lying on the ground
and he smiled slightly to himself, his cool green
eyes mocking and bitter. Perhaps he should have
kept her handcuffed to his bed - that way she
would never be able to leave him, ever...
With a small shake of his head, he headed towards
the shower. If Emma had already left, he would
track her down. If she hadn't, well, there would be
time enough to make her his...truly his.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, Emma chanted to herself
as she sat on her bed, dishevelled and still rather
in shock. She'd been sitting there since almost
dawn, replaying the events over and over again in
her mind, and as yet did not seem to show any
signs of moving anywhere anytime soon. The mind
numbing mantra served to send her into a realm
where her only thoughts seemed to centre around
the words "oh god", which really, wasn't all that
helpful, seeing as to how she must have screamed
them out five times last night.
Last night. Good lord, had it really happened? If it
weren't for the fact that she could still smell the
scent of James and their coupling on her, she would
have doubted her own mind.
Even now, she struggled to accept it. It all seemed
so farfetched, so ridiculous, so...cruel. Whilst Kit
had been using her, stringing her affections along
in order to make his real love Mary jealous, James
had been sleeping with her in his brother's place,
so as to not make her suspicious when Kit refused
to sleep with her in order to remain faithful to
Mary... It was all such a soap opera, she could not
believe it was the truth.
And yet, why would James lie? What did he stand
to gain from it? She was already in a far from
charitable frame of mind towards Kit, and he had
already demonstrated that if all he wanted was to
get inside her pants all he had to do was handcuff
her...no, there was nothing in it for James. He was
telling the truth. Instinctively, she knew that while
James would evade and omit, he would never lie
outright to her.
And thus, if he was telling the truth about that
matter, it stood to reason that he had been telling
the truth about the other. He claimed to love her.
Did he really? Did she really want to know?
There was nothing for it, Emma decided, sitting up
determinedly. She was leaving. There wasn't a
chance in hell that she was about to stay here a
minute longer.
She emerged from the shower, naked and rather
wet still, since her hair simply refused to dry, no
matter how vigorously she towled it, and opened
the door which connected her bedroom to her
bathroom in the opulent Brandeworth mansion. Lost
in her thoughts, she wandered over to the chest of
drawers where she had left her clothing, and bent
to open the draws, completely unaware of the
rather large, lean, masculine form lying sprawled
on her bed, watching her.
"I see that you seem to have recovered your
equilibrium remarkably well," a throaty, deep
masculine voice drawled from the bed.
Emma shrieked, spun around and instinctively
covered her naked form with her arms.
"Its a bit late for that, don't you think?" James
remarked dryly, cocking one arrogantly slashing
eyebrow. His glittering eyes gleamed with
something that made her want to shudder.
Emma said nothing, merely began backing away
towards the door. James leapt out of the bed and
advanced towards her, shaking his head at her. "I
wouldn't do that, my darling...you belong to me,
you see, and I do not intend for a single other soul
to ever lay eyes upon you in all your glory...and if
you keep walking in that direction, I'm afraid I'm
going to have to take steps in order to prevent
just that from happening."
"I - I don't belong to you," Emma said her voice
wavering slightly. She tilted her chin. "You - you
oaf!"
"Come here and say that," he invited silkily, still
advancing.
"What do you want?" Emma said desperately, a
slightly hysterical note in her voice.
"What do I want?" James replied musingly. "Well,
lets see. I'd like you to stop covering yourself. I'd
like you to stop moving away. I'd like you to love
me, and...oh yes. I want to be inside you." There
was a tiny warning glimmer in his eyes, before he
struck.
"No," Emma breathed, but it was too late. He had
launched himself towards her, heaved her over his
shoulder and dumped her onto the bed. He was on
top of her before she had time to regain her
breath.
He was heavy, and incredibly aroused, she realised,
feeling the bulge against her stomach. She
struggled, wriggling against him and watched in
fascination as he groaned, his eyes closed and his
face tortured. "Stop that," he hissed, gripping her
wrists and holding her to the mattress. Defiantly,
she bucked, enflaming him further.
"Good lord," James muttered. He let out a
tortured breath through his teeth, his eyes still
closed. "Will you stop wriggling?"
Emma stilled, watching his expression with interest.
"Why?"
"Because if you don't, I'm going to come in my
pants, that's why!"
A small, triumphant smile lit Emma's features and
with calculated intent, she wriggled slightly,
testing him. When his features contorted further,
she deliberately ground her hips against him, and
he swore, rocking his own hips in response. Pleased
with her success, she kept up the motion, sure of
herself now.
He stopped, suddenly, pressing her so hard into the
mattress that she could not move at all as his full
weight rested on her. Her eyes widened in surprise
and dismay. "No," she said desperately.
"Oh, yes," he said grimly. "You will not find me
quite so easy to manipulate, my dear. I want to be
inside you - and inside you, I will be." His mouth
hovered, close to hers, then settled ever so gently,
over her lips. His lips were soft, velvet soft, and
warm, brushing back and forth against her mouth.
Then tentatively, she felt the hot lick of his tongue
at the seam of her mouth - her lips opened, and
suddenly the kiss was no longer gentle, but hard,
and punishing. His tongue slid inside her mouth
with insolence, stroked roughly at hers with
demanding caresses, and his mouth was sealed to
hers with an almost bruising violence, as bit by bit,
he ripped her wits from her, turning the tables.
Even as she whimpered in fear at his rage, her
mouth opened wider, sought more of him, more of
his taste. And then, quite suddenly, he was gone.
He sat up, shrugged quickly out of his shirt and
the warm, musky male scent of him, spiced with a
tang of soap and aftershave, filled her nostrils.
His chest was wide and broade, his hips lean, his
shoulders strong. He knelt up, and seizing her
chance, Emma heaved, unbalancing him enough for
her to scramble off the bed. He did nothing,
merely watched, amused as she wavered, uncertain
of his response, and continued to strip, until he was
as starkly naked as she. Then, methodically, he
advanced towards her, picked her up, and set her
back on the bed again.
"We would really save a great deal of time,
Emma," he remarked conversationally as he climbed
on top of her and spread her legs. "If you would
simply get on the bed yourself and save me the
bother of having to carry you."
"Why?" Emma taunted, defiant to the last. "I
would have thought that you would like the sense
of power that experience from being able to make
others submit to your will."
He smiled at her, brilliantly white teeth flashing,
and she wanted to hate him in that moment, for
having the power to subdue her, to charm her, and
most unforgivable of all, to make her want what he
was forcing on her.
"I can't deny that I like it when you submit to my
will, sweetheart...but you clearly don't. Why did
you leave me this morning?"
She stared at him blankly. "What?"
"This morning. After we were...together. You left
me, without a word."
"After you raped me," Emma corrected, and yet
even as she said them the words felt like a lie.
"And as to the other - I went back to my room. I
had to."
"Why?"
"Well - I - Jordan - it wasn't right - I mean -"
"You mean that if you had stayed, it would have
looked like you were willing, and thus you would
have been stripped of the ever so convenient excuse
that I raped you. But its not true, is it Emma? I
didn't...not if you were willing. And as I
remember...you were very willing."
"I wasn't!" she denied hotly.
"Oh?" Sensuously, he rubbed his body against her
and for the first time, Emma was consciously
aware that they were skin to skin, body to body,
naked against eachother. He forced her legs slowly
apart, until his hips rested in the cradle of her
pelvis. "Are you quite sure?"
"Yes," she said, rather weakly.
He plunged inside her.
She screamed, arching her breasts towards him,
and he bent his head, clamping his teeth around
one. She whimpered like a small, hurt animal, and
he began thrusting, moving quickly, deeply inside
her.
"Leave me, will you?" he growled, his hands
gripping her hips tightly and lifting her towards
him. "Run off on me, just like that, will you?" She
gasped, exposed her throat to him and hungrily he
bit into her, devouring at her neck. He slid deeper
inside her, thrust harder. "Lie, will you? Deny this,
deny what we have, will you? Well deny it all you
want, my darling, but the fact remains that what
we have is real...what I feel for you is real...and I
know you'll never admit it, but what you feel for
me is real, too..."
She clamped hard around him and he erupted with
a roar of ecstacy, his seed spurting deep inside her
in hot bursts. He plunged deep inside her one last
time, and she gave a scream of sheer,
unadulterated pleasure, clamping hot and wetly
around him, her hands, free at last from his
bruising grip, free to wrap around his neck, to
cling to him as the last vestiges of her orgasm
drifted away.
"Don't leave me again," James murmured sleepily,
when she made to move, to get out from under
him. "Please don't leave me again."
And, cursing herself inwardly for her own
weakness, Emma gave in, relaxing against the
comforting heaviness of him atop her, closing her
eyes as sleep claimed her, and feeling oddly safe.
When Emma woke again it was much later in the
day - well past noon, to judge from the sun shining
brightly through her drawn blinds. Yawning
sleepily, she sat up, gazing around in bewilderment
at the stained sheets for a moment, blinking.
Memory rushed back and her face flushed -
gritting her teeth, she climbed out of bed for the
third time that morning. She did not question her
hypocrisy, or the reason for her resentment, as
she thought vengefully, don't leave him, indeed. It
was perfectly all right for him to leave her though.
She came down stairs half an hour later relatively
refreshed but still very much in a quandery. She
found Jordan sitting by himself in the morning
parlour, eating from a plate of tiny sandwiches. He
looked up as she approached. "Hello, sis," he said
cheerfully. "Had a late night, did you?"
"Yes," Emma replied vaguely, feeling her face
heat once again. She took a seat, then looked
around in curiousity. "Where is everyone else?"
"Kit took them all hunting," Jordan answered. "The
Redwoods, you know. Fresh deer, apparently."
"Ah," Emma said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Jordan looked at her curiously. "Aren't you feeling
well, Emma?"
"Its just a bit of a headache," Emma said hastily.
"Nothing to worry about. Although," she continued
as a sudden flash of inspiration hit her, "Perhaps it
wouldn't be such a bad idea if I were to cut my
visit just a little short, go home for the remainder
of the houseparty. Just for a bit of a rest..."
Jordan bit his lip, eyed her worriedly. "Emma, if
its Kit..."
Oh, it wasn't Kit, Emma thought to herself rather
hysterically. It had never been Kit, she realised
abruptly. The man she had fallen in love with, the
man she had believed to be Kit...that man had
never existed. How could he have, when he was two
people? Kit in daylight, and James at night...
"Its not that," Emma said truthfully. "Its just that
I'd really rather go home now..."
"I wouldn't do that," a voice said, surprising her
from behind. She spun around, her face breaking
into a smile at the sight of Lucien Tusane. Lucien,
one of James and Kit's best friends, had been a
fount of support for her during the days after
Kit's defection. Word was that these days, he only
spoke to one of the Brandeworth twins, and that
one was definitely not Kit.
"Luc," Emma said in pleasure. "I didn't know you
were here."
"Arrived last night," he answered briefly. "Might
convey the wrong idea," he continued, his dark
grey eyes twinkling at her as he raked a careless
hand through his tousled blond hair. "Give people
the impression that you can't handle being here -
that you're running away."
Emma frowned at him in consternation as Jordan
nodded thoughtfully. "Its true, Em," he agreed.
"Keep your pride, at least."
Emma sighed in frustration. "I just want to go
home!"
"Well, there is another way," Luc put in. "If all you
want is to simply leave this place."
"Well..." Emma began.
"If we put it about that you and I are...you know,
involved, it won't raise too much speculation when
we both disappear together...and that way, we both
get what we want."
"Ah," Jordan said, a gleam in his eyes.
Emma was silent for a moment. Luc's plan made
sense. She knew how wounded he'd been when Mary
had broken up their engagement, in order to
marry his best friend...yet another twist, Emma
thought bitterly. The plot was thickening by the
day! She felt like she was trapped inside some sort
of absurd parody of a nightmarish soap opera.
"Its sounds like a perfect idea," Emma said finally,
forcing cheerfulness into her tone. "Two birds with
one stone, so to speak. When can we leave?"
"You'll have to keep up the pretence for a few
days at least," Jordan intervened. "It will look
suspicious if you just up and go - take time to
establish the lie first."
Emma shrugged, meeting Luc's querying gaze.
"Why not?"
It was that evening, while the numerous guests
mingled in the drawing room before dinner for
drinks that the "announcement" was made. Emma
took a deep breath, steadying herself, and stepped
into the room.
Luc saw her at once. "Emma, darling!" he
exclaimed, taking long legged strides towards her
and looping an arm around her waist possessively.
"Where have you been? I've been waiting for
hours!"
"I was dressing," Emma replied demurely, feeling
James' piercing gaze on her and deliberately
playing up her part. "I wanted to look good for
you, darling." Perhaps that was a bit much, she
thought wryly, as she saw the wickedly humourous
look in Luc's eyes. He pecked her nose fondly, and
whispered intimately in her ear, "Tone it down a
little, sweetie, or I might crack up and blow our
cover."
She whispered back, just as sweetly, "If you do, I'll
castrate you."
He roared with laughter, drawing more attention
to them, and offered his arm. She took it with a
cloying smile, and together, they walked into the
dining room, seemingly oblivious of the curious
whispers they left behind, and one hot, furious
gaze.
It was while she was standing outside on the
balcony after dinner that evening, taking in the air
and waiting for Luc to come back with her drink,
that just what she had gotten into hit home.
The footsteps behind her came softly, almost
silently, and suddenly, two large, male hands had
clamped tight onto her shoulders. She stiffened,
made to turn around, but found herself held
forcefully where she was, gazing out into the
darkness below.
"Do you know," James voice was very near her ear,
his body gradually positioning hers so that she
nestled inside the cradle of his, "Its always been a
fantasy of mine to take you like this, out here,
before the world?"
"Funny," Emma managed to retort, "I never would
have picked you for an exhibitionist."
"Oh its not that," James said softly. "Its more a
sign of ownership - a portrayal to the word that
you are mine...that you belong to me, and only to
me..."
"I can see where this is leading," Emma said
laconically. "I don't suppose you ever listen when
what you hear isn't to your liking?"
She could almost feel him smile. "I listen..." he
disagreed. "But I don't have to accept. And I do
not accept this - this charade - that you have set
up with Luc."
"Who says it is a charade?" And perhaps because
her voice held just the right amount of indignation,
anger, and scorn, she felt him still, heard him go
silent for a moment before he ground out, "I say
it is...and if it is not, it soon will be..."
"I sincerely doubt that," Emma spat.
"Oh? You really are Luc's woman, then, my love?"
His scorn was apparent. "How very...fickle, you
are, Emma my dear. You claim to be his woman and
yet you are more than willing to respond to my
touch..." His hands moved from her shoulders to
her arms, and across to stroke featheringly across
her breasts, pulling her even more firmly against
him.
"You lie," Emma gasped. "I was unwilling, and you
simply - simply took me."
"I took you," he agreed, "But you were all too
willing. As you are now." He slid a hand inside her
dress, toyed with a peaked nipple. "I could make
you come, right now."
"N-No," Emma protested, but somehow her protest
seemed only token, as he spun her around and
sealed her mouth was his. His mouth was bruising,
hurting her, and yet inciting her against her will.
His tongue invaded, trapped, lured, and touched.
His lips captured, sucked. His teeth grazed,
possessed, and bit with a hungry voraciousness that
drew an involuntary moan from her. "James," she
gasped.
"Hush," James ground out against her lips. "You're
being punished."
He wrenched away from her suddenly, a wild look in
his eyes. His gaze fell to her red, swollen lips, and
his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. "I want
you," he rasped. "If I don't go, I'm going to take
you, right here, right now."
Dazed, she merely stared dreamily back at him,
her lips slightly parted, her eyes clouded. With a
curse, he turned abruptly, and walked swiftly away
from her.
It seemed that minutes had barely passed when he
returned again, for all of a sudden, whilst Emma
was once again staring numbly out at the darkness,
arms circled her waist from behind, and a voice
breathed passionately into her ear, "Emma."
James, she thought, bemused. Had he decided to
come back, then? "I've waited so long for this," he
continued, feathering soft, gentle kisses across her
neck. "At last - at last, I'll have you."
Now that didn't sound quite right, she thought,
confused. What the devil was he talking about?
Before she had much time to ponder that,
however, she had been yanked into his arms and his
mouth was covering his.
She sensed almost from the moment his lips
touched hers that something was wrong. His kisses
felt wrong, new, different, somehow, and his taste
seemed different as well. She tasted whisky on his
breath, and whilst before he had always been
demanding, almost violent, now his lips were gentle,
meek, shy, almost. "James?" she said, confused,
but found her lips covered once again.
There was a harsh intake of breath from the doors
that led to the house and Emma's eyes shot open,
looking from the very large, menacing figure
standing in the balcony doorway, to the man who
was holding her in his arms. Kit's eyes stared back
at her.
With a cry of dismay, she pushed him away from
her, stumbling backwards, unsurprised when he
lurched drunkenly, then had to grab the railing to
steady himself.