Filed to story: A Matter of Sin and Love Novel Read Free Online
Elena shrugged. ‘My mother’s aunt lived in a nineteen-thirties house. I loved it.’ Actually, she’d loved the peace and sense of acceptance, so different from her own home. Eventually that had translated into an appreciation of the house and its style.
Her great-aunt had brought Elena on trips here. She hadn’t worried that her niece preferred to celebrate her birthday quietly instead of at a catered party for a hundred. Elena’s father had thought her mad. Aunt Bea had encouraged her.
‘She was important to you.’
Elena swung round. ‘How did you know?’
‘You sounded wistful.’ His fingers brushed her cheek in a gesture that felt alarmingly tender. Elena was used to passion or provocation. Tenderness was usually reserved for the bedroom.
But this weekend there’d been more. His expression made her throat tighten.
‘She was important,’ Elena said eventually. ‘My mother died when I was young and Aunt Bea was…special.’ Elena had felt closer to the old lady than to her father. It didn’t matter if Elena had puppy fat or a boring penchant for books. Or that she didn’t sparkle in company. Aunt Bea had loved her, and through her Elena had learned to respect herself. ‘She brought me here.’
‘In that case I’m glad you chose to share it with me.’ He threaded his fingers through hers in a gesture that seemed as intimate as the sex they’d shared this morning. Her tight throat constricted further.
Elena reminded herself that Christian was clever and perceptive. It was obvious the place was important to her.
Yet not even logic shattered the sensation of closeness, of understanding.
As if she understood Christian! He still wouldn’t stop her father’s nonsense about a wedding.
‘Come on, there’s a lot to see.’ Elena stepped forward, under the spreading boughs of the ornamental trees. But she didn’t shake off Christian’s grip. There was something comfortable about simply holding hands, something…appealing.
They explored the garden theatre, the landscaped terraces and the lookout across the cliffs to the wilderness beyond. It was as they meandered back, past the house and a section where plants were being propagated, that she noticed Christian’s abstraction.
He paused, surveying a bed of freshly turned soil and tiny plants. To Elena’s inexperienced eye the scene wasn’t as interesting as the rest of the grounds.
‘Are you a gardener?’ Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d been explaining what she knew of the garden design. Maybe he knew more than her, given his choice to live in a home with beautiful grounds rather than an easy-care apartment. ‘You should have stopped me. It didn’t occur to me—’
‘I’m no expert,’ he said, eyes still fixed on the garden bed. ‘It just reminded me of something.’
‘Really?’ Elena moved closer. ‘What does it remind you of?’
‘Smell that? Fresh turned soil and compost.’
Elena inhaled. ‘It’s…earthy.’
‘Good, rich soil. Someone has put in a lot of effort here.’
‘What does it remind you of?’
He bent to pluck a couple of tiny weeds out of the carefully tended bed. ‘When I was a kid we had a big vegetable garden. It smelled like this. Of earth and growing things.’
He straightened and turned, moving briskly away. Elena hastened after him. ‘You enjoyed gardening?’ It was the first glimpse he’d given of his past except for the few bare answers to her probing about his prison sentence.
Christian shrugged. ‘It was a chore, that’s all.’
Yet he’d taken time to pull out the weeds amongst the tiny seedlings. ‘You didn’t like it?’
Again that lift of broad shoulders. ‘It had to be done. It supplied a lot of our food.’
‘Whose garden was it? Your mother’s or your father’s?’ Elena knew nothing about his family and suddenly the need to know more about him was overwhelming.
‘You’re curious all of a sudden.’
‘Why not? You’ve got nothing to hide, have you?’
Christian stopped beneath the shade of an overhanging tree. ‘Everyone has something to hide.’ In the relative gloom he looked bigger than ever, his broad chest and shoulders imposing. But it was his voice that sent a ripple of warning through her. There was steel in that tone, telling her she’d trespassed too far.
This from the man who’d upended her calm, orderly life! So much for believing they’d begun to build something new this weekend.
‘You’re scared to tell me even that?’ She shook her head. ‘Is it so secret?’
He folded his arms. It made him look more impressively masculine and annoyingly attractive.
‘Says the woman who refuses to mention she works in case I find out too much about her.’ At her stare he nodded. ‘Of course I know. You’re never available during the week before six at night. I may be busy with my own business but I notice these things.’
Heat rushed up Elena’s throat and into her cheeks. He was right. She’d avoided talking about herself, except at the most superficial level—food, music, books, sex. Nothing about her family or career. Nothing emotionally intimate. Until today when she’d told him about Aunt Bea. It had seemed such a huge concession—revealing even that tiny snippet.
She’d understood from the first that Christian was dangerous. Instinct had warned not to let him close. When she’d been unable to resist him physically, she’d worked to isolate him from the rest of her life. He didn’t even know where she lived.
But he’d been no more forthcoming. She refused to feel guilty.
‘I hardly think talking about your childhood chores constitutes an invasion of privacy.’ She crossed her arms, imitating his challenging stance. All it got her was a heavy-lidded glance at her plumped-up breasts that sent traceries of fire through her belly.
Elena’s instantaneous response to Christian was so predictable and so profound it unnerved her. She was torn between wanting more and wanting nothing to do with him. Because above all she wanted to discover what made him tick.
With a huff of self-disgust Elena spun away. The game he played was too deep. She’d begun to believe they shared something more profound than incendiary sex. Clearly she’d fooled herself.
‘Wait!’ A hand on her arm halted her.
Elena looked at his fingers loosely circling her flesh. Even that was enough to send a zing of anticipation through her. Her body had never got the message that Christian wasn’t to be trusted.
‘I’ll make a deal with you.’ His hand slid up her arm in a caress. She swallowed. She wouldn’t let him seduce her again. ‘I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine. Truthfully.’
‘I don’t lie.’ She drew herself up.
‘But there are things you’d rather not discuss.’
He was going to ask about her father and his business. It had to be that because that was Christian’s real focus, the reason he’d taken an interest in her.
Hurt blossomed. But Elena was a big girl. She could cope. She could juggle the need to protect her family and her attraction to Christian.
Still holding her arm, he moved to lean back against the trunk of a massive tree. Before she could protest he pulled her against him, his arms wrapped around her waist from behind, her bottom tucked between his legs.
‘No, don’t move.’ His voice was a soft burr, feathering her ear. ‘Just relax.’
Being held felt so good, the solidity of Christian’s body at her back, his arms holding her. Elena gave up and let her head sink against his collarbone. She stared out at the greenery screening them from the rest of the garden.
‘The garden didn’t belong to my mother,’ Christian said. ‘She knew as little about growing things as I did. It was Jack’s.’
‘Your father’s?’
Christian didn’t move. His heart beat steadily behind her. Yet something stirred—a change in his breathing? A feeling of wariness?
‘I didn’t know my father. Jack became my mother’s partner when I was six.’
‘Your stepfather then.’
Christian slid his fingers through hers and stroked the palm of her hand. ‘No. He never thought of himself as my stepfather.’