Free Sea of Lost Love by Santa Montefiore Page B

to myself,” he murmured. “I’m where I’ve wanted to be all evening.” Celestria was flattered. They swayed to the music, and the more they swayed the more dizzy her head became. She couldn’t recall how many glasses of champagne she’d had, and she was too happy to care.
    She saw her parents dancing, and, even through the hazy, alcohol-induced blur, she could tell that they were not happy. Her father was looking stern, while Pamela’s face was pinched and miserable. Celestria closed her eyes and inhaled the spicy scent of Rafferty’s skin. Aroused by the proximity of their bodies, she began to rub herself against him in a sleepy rhythm, barely aware of what she was doing. It wasn’t long before she felt the hard evidence of his excitement. Unaware of the dangers of arousing a man, she was curious and a little careless with the power her beauty gave her. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered into her ear, and led her out of the tent.
    As they hurried through the hall Celestria glanced up to the top of the stairs where the children had been hiding. They must have all gone to bed. “Where are you taking me?” she giggled, feigning resistance.
    â€œSomewhere we can be alone,” he replied without glancing back. He opened the door to the little sitting room and crept inside. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. “It smells of wood smoke in here,” he said, closing the door behind her.
    â€œI lit a fire this afternoon for Mama. She hates the cold.”
    â€œI can’t see a thing. Damn, where’s the sofa?”
    â€œNow it’s your turn to follow me.” She led him carefully around the coffee table, upon which Julia had stacked art books in neat piles, alongside a large bowl full of postcards collected over the years.
    Rafferty wasted no time. He threw off his dinner jacket and fell back onto the cushions, pulling her with him so that she was squeezed between his body and the back of the sofa. Without another word he began to kiss her. The hot snake was wide awake by now and curling madly up her spine, causing her skin to tingle all over and a warm aching feeling to grow between her legs. The sound of rain tapping against the window enhanced the romance of it all, and her heart swelled with happiness.
    His hands were warm as he caressed her face, tracing his fingers down her cheek and neck and onto the swell of her breasts, now barely contained beneath the bodice of her dress. She arched her back by way of encouragement. He pulled away a moment, and she could sense him smiling through the blackness. “You’re a dark horse, aren’t you, Celestria?” He ran his tongue across her lips. For a hideous moment she was reminded of Humphrey and his wandering hand.
    She tried to push Humphrey’s sweaty face out of her mind and concentrate on Rafferty, now caressing her breasts and nuzzling into her neck. His bristle scratched her skin, his wet tongue slid over it, and the snake, having been cooled considerably by the thought of Humphrey, now grew hot again. Rafferty took her hand and pulled it down to where his own ardor was straining for attention. He placed it on the stiff rod between his legs and groaned as she touched it. So this was it. This insistent thing that fathered generations, ruined reputations, started wars, inspired heroism and adventure, discovery and conquest, but, more often than not, caused the downfall of many a brilliant man. This, which she now held in her hand, was it. She felt like Delilah with a pair of scissors. One snip and that would be the end of his power. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured urgently. She wanted to laugh at the way men lost themselves in the flesh of beautiful women. Aidan Cooney had been the same: the heavy breathing, sweating brow, writhing hips, urgent whisperings, as if driven mad by the rod that wouldn’t be quiet until satisfied.
    Now his fingers found