“Some,” she murmured, unwilling to encourage this topic of conversation.
Still and unblinking, he studied her for a few seconds before he nodded, and the memory of his body with hers flooded through her, so she ached for him inside her again.
“This garden was once a dream, but it became a reality.” His lips moved in what might have been the start of a smile.
Bastard. He deliberately tormented her. This so called gentleman needed to find out she wasn’t going to be coerced by him. “Interesting though I’m sure the story is, Mr. Johansson, I don’t think this is quite right for our purposes” she said in her most professional, close-the-deal-today manner. Not waiting for his answer, she paced past him. “Is there more?” she asked without looking back.
“Much.” The whisper close her ear sent a warm breath against her skin and sped her pulse to thundering. “Miss Armstrong, would you prefer I leave you to explore alone?”
“No,” she snapped, and nipped at her lip. Right now she’d no need to be alone.
“There is the wood? On the other hand, we could take a walk down to the lake,” he said.
“You choose.”
“We’ll go to the lake, and perhaps I can show you the woods after we’ve had lunch?”
“Fine.” The snarl in her voice startled her. She hadn’t meant to sound so pissed off. But anger snapped through her. Why? Because sound business sense be damned, she wanted him to touch her, not torment her, and he hadn’t made a move. Anger he’d not admitted the truth she knew he shared with her became entangled with her need for him.
Damn it.
If only she could have sent Richard to this meeting today instead of coming here herself. But she’d wanted to see the owner of this house again, needed to look at him to convince herself Mr. Johansson was real, and he wasn’t Magnus, the amazing, wonderful sex partner her mind had created. Prove to herself beyond any doubt this man couldn’t be the lover she’d waited for her whole life.
She gnawed her lip, as he walked past to lead her through another archway and onto a long terrace overlooking a massive expanse of tree-lined lawn. At the bottom of the lawn lay a lake, the rills of water on its surface sparkling in the sun. Willows grew at its edges, and what had once probably been a bright red Japanese pagoda stood in its center, reached by a causeway. Her breath caught in her throat. She’d no idea the grounds would be this extensive. Images of dancers romping into the gardens, the lead couple kissing by the lake, the opportunities for the Timeless film swam in her thoughts. Love here would be inevitable for the characters from the song. This place was meant for romance.
His dark eyes drank her down deep. “Ah, the lake pleases you?” he asked, inclining his head.
She nodded, not even sure what she’d agreed to. A shiver flashed down her spine, but this wasn’t fear. Not now. She needed his hands on her.
“Let’s walk that way for a while?”
She nodded again. “Mr. Johansson,” she said, attempting to tell him the estate was breath taking, should be open to public view. But the words wouldn’t come, for her mouth grew too dry.
“Magnus, please, Miss Armstrong, if you will?”
Magnus. The word beat inside her like a hammer on a bell. Magnus. With each step she took, his name became part of her, thundered through her blood and entwined with her heartbeat.
“The Lebanon Cedar trees were planted in the late eighteenth century,” he said as they passed along the row, which towered above them, the branches thick with growth. “At one time there was a boat house for the lake, but I’m afraid it’s gone now.”
The morning sun warmed through her. A last fling of summer before the fall colors took the leaves, and the first frosts crisped each dawn.
“Do you think any of this would suit your purposes?” he asked, standing in front of her, his silhouette an intense dark shape gilded at the edges by a nimbus of sunlight.
“Yes,” she said on a sigh, taking a step. “Yes.” She leaned forward, closing the gap between them. “It’s beautiful,” slid from her.
“I am pleased you find it so.” The rise of his smile tilted one corner of his mouth.
A thrill shimmied, dancing with staccato steps over her heart, while his enthralling expression grew more powerful still, until both corners of his mouth lifted. His pleasure shone in his eyes, sparks of navy blue flickering, so intense his gaze glistened like wet slate. The gleam of his teeth flashed for a brief second. Satisfaction radiated from him in a warm wave. The earth shook.
The sky spun up above her as she sagged toward the turf.
Magnus cradled her to his chest as he lifted her up. “You’ve overtaxed your strength, my dear. Let me help you?”
Limp, her bones soft as melted marshmallow, she lay in his embrace and he carried her across the wooden causeway to the pagoda. “I’ll be all right,” she murmured. “I need to sit down for a minute, that’s all.”
Low and rumbling, his laughter thrummed through her body. The sound stunned her. She’d not expected this man to laugh.
“Miss Armstrong, you need to learn when to admit defeat,” he said.
“I’m invincible,” she replied, but it was a lie, and when he covered her mouth with his and the sweet sensation she remembered blistered through her flesh, she happily took the first step to completeness.
* * * *
Soft, delicate as a flower, she opened her lips under the caress of his, and she tasted sweet, minty fresh. His rising need deepened with their kiss, so he took command of her mouth, instructed her with exquisite precision in exactly what he hoped for from her. The increase in her breathing rate and her sighed responses promised him her participation would be all he could wish.
The force of her will astonished him. For two nights she’d fought him off, banished him from her dreams with ease. Even when he’d managed to sneak in, she’d caged him. Today, she’d held him off every step of the way to the lake. She wanted him, he was certain, but didn’t want to give in, not this soon. She’d tested him and all his skills. But now, at last, he’d managed to slip through her defenses because she embraced him to her, nestled against him in the place she belonged. Her love of beauty, no less than his, left her vulnerable. The sound of her breathy moans encouraged him to slide and roll his tongue with hers. Desire flashed deep in his gut.
Dreams would live. They throbbed through him.
Today, he’d take his time and try to find the key to the power she had over him, and the way to placate the will it had taken him so long to bend to his own.
The small, sun-faded pagoda was a little dusty, but dry. The large day bed he lowered her onto, its only piece of furniture, accepted their combined weight with ease. He caressed her hand, kissed her thumb, and slid his tongue over the red polish on her nail. Her eyes had become nearly all dark pupil. A small sigh broke from her as he moved his lips slowly from her thumb to the tip of her index finger. Sucking her finger, stroking with his tongue over the very tip, wrapping around her flesh, he enjoyed the trembles running through her.
When
