Sara Curran-Ross's Blog, page 5

Sleeping Love (New Chapter)

Hi Everyone,

Here is the next chapter of Sleeping Love. Beware, it's a bit of a hot one. Lol. Hope you enjoy it.

Be in for a chance to win in my giveaway contest for a e-book copy of my dark erotic thriller, The Devil You Know when it is released tomorrow by making a comment on this chapter. Three books are up for grabs. Details will be in my next post later today.

Happy Reading.

Sara


Chapter Seven


'You have amnesia Madame Valoire,' the Consultant told her with a smile that did not sit easily on his face.

'Please call me Sabrina.'

As if she didn't already know that. And if anyone called her Madame Valoire once more she was going to hit them. She wanted to keep her own name. She caught sight of Raoul's mouth curving into the briefest of smiles. Every time he did that it was another sign, another confirmation she was indeed his Sabrina. It was more evidence of the identity she'd lost. It frightened her more than ever that she really didn't know who she was and to some extent was living a lie. Even worse was the fact that Raoul and many others possessed the advantage of knowing more about herself than she did. She felt out of control, incredibly vulnerable and totally dependent on Raoul to help her recover her lost life.

The Consultant moved from his position next to the roaring fire and sat down. Sabrina glanced at Raoul. There was sympathy etched into his features and he covered her hand that gripped the arm of the brown leather chair. She could feel his strength and support seeping inside, warming her heart.

'You experienced a severe emotional trauma and your mind shut down, subconsciously burying emotional and physical pain. It is the mind's way of protecting itself.'

'But why did I forget who I am?'

'In severe cases it happens. Your mind has made you believe that those events happened to someone else and has created a new identity for you to live in.'

He sighed and stood again to lean against the fireplace running his hand through the bristly grey beard covering his chin.

'Patients with this condition may leave and relocate, function normally but without knowing their past.'

'So what about recovery? How long will it take for Sabrina to regain her memory?' Raoul asked, the impatience and eagerness in his voice unmistakable.

'It can happen all of a sudden or may take a while. It depends on the individual or she may not remember everything.'
Sabrina watched a frown crease Raoul's smooth brow as he considered the possibility of her never knowing him. But it readily disappeared to be replaced by avid determination. The grip on her hand tightened positively. She got the feeling it was not an outcome he was prepared to tolerate. She gave him a nervous look. He was never going to give up and deep inside she was relieved.

'But this type of dissociative amnesia is usually reversible. The best course of action Madame is to move back to your home and get back into a normal routine as soon as possible.'


'But my life. I have so much going on in it.'

She felt frustrated. She couldn't be expected to just dump the life she'd spent years building up to make her feel safe.

'I live in London now. I'm a doctor of history, a lecturer. I'm in the middle of writing my second book. I have a dog and a fish for heaven sake.'

Raoul laughed. It was the wrong thing to do and his face turned serious when she glared at him. So he thought she would just give up her life and run back into his arms after seven years. He had another thing coming. There must be a good reason she chose to forget him. She quickly stood, yanking her hand from his hold and folded her arms across her chest, taking the floor as if holding as lecture.

'I won't be dictated to like this. I don't want to give up who I am. I like who I am. What was I before? Your little woman who sat around looking pretty, letting you dictate and control her life?'

Raoul stood up quicker than she had done herself, a dark cloud of anger covering his face. She found herself taking two steps backward feeling the fire from the fireplace right behind her legs.

'You are not a decorative part of our marriage.'
He took hold of her arms and pulled her towards him. His voice was angry but level.

'The Sabrina I knew and loved was an independent courageous woman. But she was also incredibly vulnerable and she needed me to look after her as well. She needed me as much as I needed her. It's this vulnerability you are afraid of knowing again, you are frightened of being hurt. I won't hurt you, Sabrina, and I will not allow anyone else to either. If you don't try to recover the old Sabrina you and I will always be incomplete.'
She stared at him hard, feeling her chest rising and falling with each agitated breath. There was no reply, he was right and she had to face it. She was frightened. Her new identity protected and shield her insecurity. She wasn't sure if her mind would ever let go of it. How could they force her to remember being raped? She pulled away unable to find any words and quickly left the room.



She didn't notice exactly when he entered their bedroom but her small suitcase was nearly packed.

'What are you doing, Sabrina?' he asked his reprimand cutting across the air like the crack of a whip.


'What do you think, genius? I'm packing.'

She picked up her army of creams and indulgent skin luxuries and tipped them into her vanity case. When she turned back with underwear from the drawer he had removed the bottles and put them back on the dressing table, and was beginning to unpack her suitcase. She looked at him as though he had committed the crime of the century. Yet she offered no protest when he took the rest of the clothes from her hands and laid them on a chair. He took her hands in his and sat her down on the bed beside him, smoothing the gentle flicks of hair on her face as he talked.

'Sabrina, you do not have to be afraid. I am here for you. We are going to do this together.'

'You keep saying that but I have to do this on my own. You are hell bent on destroying who I've become to get back what you lost without even thinking about what I want.'

He eyed her with concern, reading the emotion in her eyes.

'I want both of you, the old and the new Sabrina. I don't want to lose either of you.'

He cupped her chin and looked deeply into her eyes.

'Why are you so frightened?' his voice lowered to a gentle caressing whisper. 'Are you frightened about what you might find out about the old Sabrina?'

She tried to lower her eyes but his penetrating gaze was unavoidable.

'I don't know. Yes I suppose I am afraid of what I will find out.'

'The old Sabrina isn't the mild mannered walk over you take her for.' He gave Sabrina a gentle smile. 'She is intelligent, very strong and has a ferocious temper when riled. She has never been a walk over in our marriage and I don't want you to think of her like that. It's unfair. You shouldn't judge people you don't know,' he laughed. She couldn't help but smile with him.

Raoul raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.

'God knows I don't want you to re-live that nightmare but I need to know who hurt you and you need help. You have to confront what happened so you can move on. I will be with you every step of the way.'
Sabrina only noticed the force of her tears when they ran down her cheeks covering his fingers. Raoul reached up to wipe them away and then swept his arm around her shoulders drawing her into the comforting shelter of his arms.

'I let you down, Sabrina. I wasn't there to protect you. I won't ever let anyone, any man hurt you like that again,' he said kissing the top of her head.

She snuggled closer, the strong overwhelming emotion subsiding.

'I will do whatever is necessary to protect you, Sabrina, with or without your approval and I expect….'

She gave a small laugh through her tears.

'You expect me to do as I am told.'

She looked at him with disbelief when he remained silent. 'You aren't kidding are you?'

She tried to move away feeling her strength return but he held her fast.

'I don't believe you. You are always trying to control me, Raoul. Don't you ever get sick of it? I know I do. Let me go. There isn't any way I am going to live my life according to your rules . . .'
Raoul sighed heavily interrupting her passionate speech.

'I am not trying to control you. I just want to make sure that this time I can protect you properly. I want you back, Sabrina. You took a vow to be with me forsaking all others. I have a right to take back what is mine. Forgive me for being over bearing just this once, Sabrina. It's the only way I can deal with this and keep you safe. I don't care if you hate me for it.'

Sabrina parted her lips to retaliate but Raoul effortlessly captured them with his mouth silencing any errant protest she was about to make. His fingers raked through her hair possessively tugging at her ebony curls. Her palm pressed weakly against the tight unforgiving muscle reminding her of how fragile and helpless she was in his hold. She might have felt frightened yet there was warmth and comfort in his embrace making her feel safe and cherished. Slowly her resistance melted and her hand fell away. She felt Raoul smile with triumph against her lips and begin lowering her back on to the bed.

Raoul leaned over her devouring her mouth. His fingers swept to the tie of her black wrap dress and quickly undid it. Sabrina gave a gasp the moment he opened the dress and splayed his hand across the exposed flesh of her thigh above her lacy hold up stocking. He raised himself from her lips seductively brushing her thigh with his fingers in a feather light touch. She looked up at him expectantly, out of breath with arousal when his fingers began to skim the edge of her panties.

'I have waited a long time to have you underneath me again,' he whispered close to her ear.

Sabrina's reply was a small cry of surprised pleasure when without warning he slipped his fingers beneath the black silk. He caressed the small bud nestled between her thighs with two purposeful strokes and a gentle pinch to squeeze the juice from it. Sabrina felt herself moisten obediently on cue. Raoul murmured his approval as he lowered his lips to the breast he scooped out from her bra cup. Sabrina arched her body on the bed as he nipped at its plump ripe tip with his teeth.

The moment her body moved Raoul took advantage and slipped a finger inside her moist inviting entrance. He pulsed his digit back and forth feeling her begin to writhe beneath him. Sabrina thought she might die. It had been a long time since she had allowed any man to touch her so intimately and she wanted all that he could give her. Damn the consequences. This was heaven. all of a sudden he moved off and swept his hands across her hips frowning.

'Next time Sabrina, don't wear a bra or panties, especially when you are at home with me. They are very pretty and alluring but you know I prefer to find you naked under your clothes,' he instructed firmly. Sabrina's body jumped involuntarily when she felt him snap the flimsy straps that supported her thong and draw it out from under her. 'I want to be able to touch you whenever and wherever I like. You should remember the rule, darling,' he told her tossing the remnants of the material to the floor. 'You know what happens when you break it,' he grinned.
She shook her head enthralled, curious and shocked that she was becoming impossibly damp between her thighs wondering what he would do.

'No I don't. What happens?' she whispered not believing she was even having the nerve to ask. With a jolt his finger was back inside her and joined by a second in one deep dominant thrust making her cry out.
Raoul lowered his mouth over hers once more and opened her own willingly allowing him to take it with force.

'I think it's time I reminded you.'

'Monsieur Valoire I need to speak to you urgently,' Francine's worried voice and knock at the door made them both stop and look at each other with frustrated smouldering desire.

'What is it Francine?' Raoul asked making no effort to hide the impatience in his tone as he lifted off Sabrina.

She tried to sit up but only found herself being lowered back down with firm hands. He rested his arm over her body to restrain any further attempt at escape, whilst he lovingly cradled her breast in his hand flexing his thumb over its tip.

'There is an urgent message from . . .' the woman hesitated. 'Yes one of your business client's, its urgent, he's arriving in Paris this evening and he needs to talk to you straight away.'

The confusion on Raoul's face slowly dissolved into comprehension.
'All right, Francine. I will be down in a few minutes.'
Raoul closed his mouth over Sabrina's once again, his probe of her mouth deep and uncompromising. She reached up for him, her arms around his neck bringing him down to take more of him inside. She couldn't help herself. Despite everything his touch on her body felt so right, so natural.

'I want you so much,' he whispered grazing his teeth over her swollen bottom lip. 'But I have to go, there is something important I must see to.'
He gave her breast a gentle squeeze making her gasp and then gently replaced it back inside her bra.

'Remember, don't wear that again,' he grinned caressing a finger around the cup of her bra. I won't be long. I want to give you a tour of the chateau and show you your life here. Then I want to take you in to Paris for the rest of the day.'

'I will have to put on some new panties,' she chastised.

'No. I meant what I said Sabrina. I wasn't kidding. I hate it and you have never disappointed me that way before.' He was deadly serious then a smile spread over his lips. 'You have a lot to remember about us, Sabrina, a lot more than you realise.'

'It seems I have,' she said frowning at him.

He gave her one last aching kiss and stood unable to tear his eyes away from her as she lay on the bed.

'By the way I cancelled your lecture after we spoke to Dr Martin. I explained your situation and they will contact you about re-scheduling it.' he told her matter of a fact without any emotion or even remorse.

'You did what? How dare you. Who gave you the right?' she demanded sitting up covering herself with her dress again.

'Until you are well and safe from that man who kidnapped and raped you I am in control of your life. Get used to it fast,' he told her formally, towering over her small form that sat on the bed. 'I am taking you back as my wife, Sabrina, if I have to drag you back kicking and screaming.'

'Bloody Neanderthal. We'll see about that!' she shouted at him as he made his way to the door.

'I will be whatever I have to. Besides you love it,' he teased.

He quickly slipped through narrowly missing the two bottles of cream that she neatly aimed at his head.

New Chapter of Sleeping Love & Update

Hi Everyone,

At last I have finished the edits for The Devil You Know. Yay! It will be published this friday coming, the 15th July by Hellfire Publishing. I am sooo excited. The book trailer is just about ready and I hope to be able to put it on my blog very shortly.

Back to writing! Here is another chapter of my contemporary romance Sleeping Love. Hope you like it.

Happy Reading!


Sara


Chapter Six



Raoul now stood in front of her gently prising her shaking hands from her face.

'Sabrina, are you all right? Are you remembering something?'

Sabrina nodded desperately trying hard to hold on to the memories fading like ghost ships in her mind.
Raoul's voice was excited.

'Do you know who took you from here? At first the police thought it might have been one of your client's but I know it was someone closer to home.'

'I can't see who it is. I just remember feeling afraid the night of the ball because I was going to confront him.'

Raoul's eyes hooded making him look sexy and dangerous all at the same time. Sabrina swallowed and tried to move away as his temper rose but he caught her arm, holding her still.

'So you were going to deal with this on your own and not tell me anything. Didn't you think for one moment and realise how dangerous that was?' he angrily demanded.

Raoul cupped the side of her face and tilted it up towards him in one sharp movement. Sabrina frowned as he began to speak in a low deep threatening voice.

'Don't make the mistake of trying to keep anything from me again Sabrina. I won't tolerate it.'

Sabrina glared at him and attempted to move away but his grip forced her to remain still. He was furious and a part of her felt afraid but she was damned if she was going to show him she was feeling that way.

'No more of your feminist crap. I am in control. I want to know about all of the memories you regain. Do not keep anything from me or so help me, Sabrina, you will regret it. I want the man who took you from me.'

'I don't respond to threats, Raoul,' she challenged bitterly.

Raoul swore loudly in French.

'I am not threatening you. I am trying to keep you safe. I only meant that I will never allow you to be on your own again.'

'I am not a child.'

'No you aren't,' he said calmly as though trying to diffuse the growing row. 'But you are ill and in danger. I will keep you confined to this house until I know who hurt you. I won't. . . I can't lose you again. He is still out there and now you have resurfaced I have a feeling he is going to come for you again. I am going to do whatever I have to, to protect you. I let you down last time Sabrina. I won't do it again.'

Sabrina stared at Raoul. Fierce determination blazed hotly in his eyes. Far from believing the old Sabrina weak and allowing Raoul to control her she was now beginning to realise how well she had dealt with such a formidably strong character. It was wonderful he cared so much and was so protective. No one had ever shown her such love. He made her feel cherished. Unexpectedly tears gathered in her eyes as she stared up at the pain in his eyes. She wanted him for a husband more than she would have liked but she couldn't afford to fully trust him. Despite all of his protestations of love he might still be her attacker. She really hoped she was wrong.

'You really think he would try again?' she asked considering the possibility with alarm.

'Yes I do. I have always thought it was somebody close to us. Someone we both knew well.'

'Intuition?'

He smiled.

'Something like that.'

Sabrina gave a sigh. She wanted more answers.

'What else do you know?'

Raoul studied her closely for a moment and then abruptly moved away to pick up his cup of coffee from the tray.

'No more. I think we should wait until you have been examined by a doctor before we discuss this any further,' he told her taking a gulp of coffee. 'I don't want to cause any more damage to your memory.'
Sabrina groaned.

'I want to know more. Don't keep anything from me. I have every right to know what happened to me before I disappeared,' she loudly snapped.
Raoul took another drink of coffee and shook his head.

'No.'

'Right, fine then I am leaving.' Sabrina walked around to the other side of the bed and picked up her suitcase to toss it on the bed and begin to pack. Raoul snatched the case off the bed but Sabrina was quick to hold on to it. They stood engaged in a small tug of war. It was almost comical.
'I have told you I am not letting you leave,' Raoul thundered at her.
Sabrina leaned over towards him.

'Yeah, well, if you don't tell me I will find someone who will. Francine looks ready to burst with what she knows. I am sure with enough persuading I will get it out of her. Then there's the police. I am sure they are going to want to talk to me at some point. I will ask them. You won't be able to keep them away from me. What are your frightened of, Raoul? Are you frightened I might find out that you had something to do with all of this?' she shouted yanking at the case.

He had pushed her too far. He lorded over her as though he held all the cards to her memory, her life and he would dictate how and when she would recover it. Raoul's eyes narrowed to a sharp point but despite the sudden tenseness in her shoulders Sabrina was determined to stand her ground. Raoul pulled hard on the suitcase and took possession of it. He threw it to the floor then took two steps towards her. It took every ounce of effort not to move back away from him in fear. His tall muscled figure towered over her small form. She titled her chin defiantly at him. No way was she going to back down on this. She put her hands on her hips and braced herself for what he might do next.

'I am only going to say this once more, Sabrina, and I don't want it raised again,' he said in a smooth voice that was doing its level best to keep calm and not erupt. 'I have never hurt you. I have never wanted to hurt you and I did not beat you, rape you or kidnap you. Do you understand me?'
Sabrina stared into his eyes looking for something, anything that would confirm her reluctant suspicions that he was lying but she could see only pain and hurt. Maybe she was wrong after all but that nagging small doubt that she should be careful around Raoul refused to go away. A part of her did not trust him whether she liked it or not. Slowly she lowered her eyes.
'I understand. So convince me it wasn't you. Let me find out what happened. This is my memory, Raoul. It's not yours to rule.'

She heard him take a breath to calm his anger and then curse under his breath in French. She raised an eyebrow and gave him an indignant impatient look.

'Fine. There were signs of a struggle in your study. The police found out later that some drunken idiot heard you arguing with a man there.'

'Why was I in my study and not with you at the party?' she quizzed confused.
Raoul sighed obviously uncomfortable with their conversation.
'You were avoiding me,' he said flatly staring at the picture on the table she had picked up earlier.

Sabrina furrowed her brow.

'Why would I do that? Did we have a row or something?'

Infuriatingly Raoul turned and walked to a door at the other end of the room, giving her a tantalising glimpse of the way his jodhpurs moved in perfect moulded unison with his tightly muscled thighs and buttocks. To her annoyance she found herself staring at the magnificence of it all. She could tell by the gentle lift of his lips from the side that he knew she was watching. Damn it.

He turned on a light to reveal a large walk in closet. Sabrina followed him to insist he explain. He paused looking at the rail holding his large collection neatly ordered suits and shirts.

'We were having many rows. You thought I was having an affair.'

'You were having an affair?'

Sabrina heard her voice rise in disbelief. The imaginary world of wedded bliss he had dazzled her with despite her doubts crumbled inside her head leaving her bitterly disappointed that he had proved her right. She dipped her head. How could she have thought for one moment . . .'

'Sabrina . . .' Raoul caught hold of her chin and lifted her face up to him until she was forced to look directly into his eyes. He held her gaze.

'No. I said, you thought I was having an affair. I see you still cannot accept that you were wrong.'

'I am not stupid. I must have a good reason to believe you were having one,' she retorted.

He shook his head and let go of her chin. His attention turned to the opposite rail on which an array of women's suits and dresses hung in order of colour. She watched him lift out a red dress.

'I loved you in this. It always showed off your curved figure to perfection.'

Sabrina's eyes widened with surprise as she watched his eyes sweep longingly over her form.

'It's good to see that you haven't lost any of your curves,' he said with a wide grin looking down appreciatively at her ample cleavage peeping through her camisole and loosened black silk robe. Sabrina snatched the dress from him.

'You were having an affair?' she repeated with disgust.

'I have just told you I wasn't.'

'Oh and I suppose your word is supposed to be good enough?'

'Yes. It is,' he said flatly.

'Maybe there are some memories of our life together that you don't want me to remember,' she persisted.

'You know, Sabrina. You are going to have to start trusting me at some point.'

'I'm not sure that will ever happen.'

Those dark eyes sharpened again. He took step towards her. To her horror she took steps back. He gave her a look of disbelief and reached past her, brushing the side of her breast to pick up one of the many suits that lined his side of the closet. Sabrina felt foolish and went to fold her arms across her chest, only she found she was still holding the red dress. Frustrated she thrust it back on the rail. Raoul winced.

'The Sabrina I knew was a very ordered person and hated her clothes not being on the right section of the rail. If you start mixing things up, when you remember who you are you'll be mad as hell,' he grinned. 'Dresses go on the rail near the window.'

Sabrina gritted her teeth together, wishing she could slap him and get away with it. He grinned again and looked down at her foot that was inadvertently tapping against the floor with irritation. He gave a laugh and leaned over to kiss her lips capturing a kiss before she could protest.

'You haven't changed a bit, Sabrina. Je t'aime.'

I'm going to have a shower,' he announced as she followed him back into their room.

'We need to talk,' she almost shouted, frustrated that he would not tell her more and deflected any attempt she made to extract information about the state of their marriage before her kidnap and memory loss.

He tossed the suit on the bed and began lifting his jumper up over his shoulders. He threw it on a chair. Bronze toned muscle rippled and stretched across his chest forcing Sabrina's eyes to widen with appreciation. Another wicked grin lighted his lips at her reaction. She glared disliking his blatant manipulation of the power he held over her and turned away from the provocative sight of him undoing the zip on his jodhpurs.

He kicked off his boots and then pulled down the riding trousers. She found her eyes following every move he made to undress. She folded her arms again and then undid them quickly remembering his teasing.

'Care to join me in the shower?' he asked with an amused tone.

'I don't think so, do you? How can I shower with a man I hardly know?' she snapped.

He stood before her in nothing more than a pair of tight Calvin Klein's and moved in close. It was too close. It sent her heart into a frantic rhythm when he dipped his head to brush her lips with his own.

'That's a pity I did so enjoy it when we showered together. Stop glaring Sabrina. What did you tell me once? Yes that's it. If the wind changes your face will stay like that.'

He laughed as her eyes narrowed into short jagged points. Before he reached the door of their bathroom he slipped off his underwear, raising a surprised gasp from Sabrina. Thankfully, he didn't see the longing look she gave his naked form when he kicked the door closed behind him.





She turned her attention back to the room and decided to investigate its contents for clues to the life she did not know. She started with the dressing table. It was still covered with make-up, cream and other assorted goodies that would have been way past their best. All the makes were the same as she used in the present. Her heart leapt. It was as though he had left everything as it was for her coming back. He'd never given up hope.

The small CD rack caught her attention. It had to be hers. She was never without music. She grew excited, you could tell a lot about a person by the CDs they bought, she mused. On careful inspection, she found many of the CD's she already kept in her car and house in London. There was no conforming style. They ranged from classical and pop to rock and heavy metal. They were her CD's all right, a mixture of everything. She pulled out Vivaldi's Four Seasons and went hunting for the CD player that seemed to be secretly concealed somewhere in the room. She found it tucked inside a disguised cabinet not far from the TV which was also similarly cloaked. She inserted the CD and listened to the music drift around the room. She returned to the dressing table to brush her hair and stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she?

It happened instantaneously. One minute she was looking at her confused reflection in the mirror, the next she was greeting guests with Raoul and then she was watching dancers swirl around the chequered floor again. The memory was so real she felt as though she was re-living it. She could see Raoul talking to a woman who kept touching him, a hand on his arm, the brush of her fingers along the lapel of his evening suit. Even as he courteously backed away from the woman to talk to another guest, all she could feel was anger, suspicion and hurt. She turned on her heel. She was wearing that dress, the velvet one in the portrait, the one he'd lovingly bought her on a business trip. A bribe to keep her quiet, while he carried on his affair? Now she knew about his affair and who was stalking her every move their whole life together was about to change.

'Sabrina.'

The concerned voice brought her right back to the present with a thud. She turned to find Raoul standing at the door in nothing more than a towel. His hair was wet and slicked back. Moisture glistened on his skin giving his lightly tanned body a seductive sheen. He looked concerned, protective. He strode over.

'You were staring into space looking vacant. Are you all right?'

He touched her forehead with the back of his hand as though checking for a temperature. She did look hot and flushed.

'I remembered being at the party. It was so real it felt like I was there again. I want to remember more.'

'I think you should wait until we see Dr Martin.'

'No. It's the music, that's what helped me remember. It was playing when the guests were arriving. Please you have to help me.'

He gave her one of his famous stern looks and then smiled as he moved away from her to retrieve something from a concealed closet.

He sat on the floor crossing his long legs in front of him whilst he played with the combination on a safe. The towel tied precariously around his waist opened, threatening to expose more than she was ready for at that moment. She looked at him wistfully. Could this hunky, sexy man really belong to her? Maybe he didn't, maybe it was all a dream and she was about to get a nasty wakeup call any minute. Maybe she did share him with that woman she saw in her memory. She felt her teeth close together and grit at the mere thought. But if he was by some miracle only hers, what could he possibly see in her? She was small and curved, not like all those super slim elegant French women. And he looked as though he should be kept on a leash, he was too sexy, too lethal for any woman's good sense to be let out on his own. He must have had an affair, she decided. She turned back to the mirror, disappointment shining in eyes that blinked the colour of sapphires.

'Here you were wearing this, the night you disappeared. I found it on the floor of your study. I had it repaired for you coming home.'

He was standing behind her draping a necklace around her neck. It was made of beautiful droplet rubies surrounded by cut diamonds.

'Raoul, is this real?' she asked taking a breath.

He looked affronted. He cupped her shoulders and stared at her in the mirror surrounding her with his intoxicating scent of masculinity she appeared to have no defence against.

'It's beautiful, Raoul. I can't believe you bought me such an extravagant gift.'

It was gorgeous. She shuddered to think how much it cost. Thousands wouldn't have been close. She twisted and turned her neck watching the diamonds and the gemstones catch in the light. She looked at herself in the mirror disbelieving what she was hearing and seeing. It was like waking up to find out you were a crown princess in a fairytale. Raoul was fast mending those walls of her imaginary wedded bliss.

Maybe the idea was for her to remember all the good bits and discard the rest such as his affair. Yes, maybe the necklace had been another bribe. Her thoughts trailed off as she watched a hand reach out and snatch the necklace from her throat. She cried out with pain flinching away. She was in her study trying to back away. A man's tuxedoed arm reached out and pulled her towards him. His other hand reached out and slapped her face knocking her to the floor. Her head hit the wooden floor with a thud leaving her dazed. She tried to get up but the man held both her arms and was pushing her back down straddling her body. No matter how hard she fought him, his strength was too much for her own. She'd never felt fear like it, a fear of being raped. As she felt the skirt of the velvet dress being lifted the memory shut down flat, a sudden blank calmness seeping into her mind.

'Sabrina, Sabrina, are you all right?'

She looked up to find Raoul cradling her in his arms on the floor. She was shaking uncontrollably. She rested her head against his bare chest and held on to him for dear life.

'You were having a flashback. Who hurt you, Sabrina, who was it? I need to know.'

He stroked her hair rocking her in his arms to soothe the emotion, holding her tight and close as she told him what she'd seen.

'You didn't see who attacked you?'

She put her hand to the necklace that suddenly felt heavy around her neck, the image of it being torn from her throat echoing again and again in her mind. She pushed her body closer to Raoul hiding her face against the smooth taut muscle, shaking her head. It took several minutes for her fear to subside. He held her whispering gentle words of reassurance in French. His soft musical tone soothed her raw nerves.

Her thoughts asked a million questions, about her attacker, about Raoul, about the house. Her conscience was warning her about being close to anyone. She could not see her attacker's face but she was aware that she knew the man very well. Isn't that what they said? You often knew your rapist. But Raoul's arms held her so tightly, so protectively, she wanted to melt against him. She could feel his strength against her hand as she pushed at his chest to compose herself.

'I'm not sure I want to see him.'

'No I can understand that. But I, we, the police need to know who hurt you so we can stop him from doing it again. He's still out there. I want you safe, Sabrina. God knows I don't want you to hurt like this. If I could swap places, make it all go away, I would. But we can't and we have to face it. I will be with you every step of the way.'

Raoul swept his hand softly through her hair, a hundred emotions were swirling in his eyes. Love, anger, protection, frustration all fighting for supremacy.

'Dr Martin is coming in an hour. He might be able to help you enlarge that memory.'

'I'll get ready.'

Raoul stopped her from moving. His hands didn't want to relinquish their possession.

'I'll stay with you,' it was a statement rather than a suggestion.

'No, I'm fine really.'

'You are so tense again.'

Raoul gestured for her to turn around. She closed her eyes as he kneaded the painful knots in her shoulders. She tried to ignore her conscience that demanded that she move away urging caution but her physical self was firmly in control, rejoicing with each careful and sensual touch of her body.

The phone rang jerking her eyes open. His hands ceased their pleasurable movement and rested flat against her skin, simply holding her body still to prevent any escape. He sighed deliberating whether or not to answer the persistent ring.

Sabrina was agonisingly torn between shouting at him to get the phone and begging him not to stop. This was dangerous. There was no telling where this simple massage could lead to. His gentle persuasive touch told her she was in trouble if she didn't stop it now. she couldn't afford to let her guard down however much she wanted to.

'I suggest you answer that. It could be important,' she said.
Raoul glanced at the offending object with a frown and got up. By the time he picked the phone up Sabrina was in the bathroom locking the door behind her.






Raoul stared at the closed door. He couldn't believe she had just walked back into his life from nowhere, just at the point he was beginning to think she was dead. She was his beautiful Sabrina yet different, all at the same time. She still retained her sexy irresistible feisty nature. He couldn't wait to have her back in his bed underneath him so he could tame it again.

The noise of the shower running interrupted his thoughts and made him feel a warmth inside that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was feeling of snugness, of belonging to another. They were married for only five years before she disappeared but it felt like a lifetime. Just hearing the noise of the rushing water was comforting, he wasn't alone anymore. It was just as though she had never left.

Raoul started to dress. He always took great care with his appearance but today he would take more. It sounded old fashioned but he was courting Sabrina all over again, seducing her back into their marriage and his bed. His strategy was to present himself as both the old and new Raoul, a man she would want to go back to. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror. She always said she loved him in a suit. He grinned. By the time he was finished her resistance would be futile.

Update

Hi Everyone,

Sorry it has been a little bit quiet on my blog lately but I am rushing to finish my edits on The Devil You Know. This novel will be released by Hellfire Publishing on the 15th July 2011. Normal service will be resumed soon.

In the meantime, please check out my new book trailers for Knight of Swords and The Organ Grinder. I have arranged for one to be made for The Devil You Know and when it is available I will post the link.

Happy Watching! :)


Sara

News

Hi Everyone,

I am still busy doing edits for The Devil You Know but I have found time to create a new blog. This is a blog where I ramble about life the universe and everything. I have just done my first post. What do demon dogs, spooky blue lights, riding lessons, Duran Duran & Supernatural got in common? Lol.

Come and check out my mad cap life and demon dog at http://queenofswords-sara.blogspot.com.

Happy Reading!

Sara

The Devil You Know Blurb & Excerpt

Hi Everyone,

I am doing edits at the moment for my novel, The Devil You Know which will be released by Hellfire Publishing on the 15th July 2011. In the meantime I am posting the blurb and a short excerpt from the novel below.

Hope you enjoy it.


Sara


Blurb

'You take one step out of that door without me and you are in serious trouble. Leave my side once and you are a dead woman.'

Christian Dalban is hired to protect Isabelle Mayer from the violent head of a mafia family who will stop at nothing to force her back into his bed. But Christian is determined that she won't find out why he is the only man capable of succeeding where others have failed. If she knew the reason she would never trust him with her life nor would he blame her. But as their relationship develops into a passionate sexual encounter Christian realises that he is not the only one keeping a secret that could threaten both of their lives.


Excerpt


Christian follows the line of Isabelle's frightened gaze. There is a crowd of tourists being rounded up by a tour guide across the road. In front of them stands a tall figure, dressed in an immaculate well tailored black suit - the kind that was made to order. The words angel of death come into Christian's mind. Declan Mayer is standing staring at them. His dark good looking but cruel features are edged with hardness and slashed with betrayal.

Mayer's brown eyes are narrowed solely at Isabelle. Christian can see her hands shaking like the rest of her body. He reaches out and covers her hand on the table.

"I won't let him touch you," he hears himself tell her fiercely.

He'll fucking break Mayer's legs if he takes one step towards her.

"He won't let you have a choice," Isabelle whispers.

She attempts to rise from the chair, her eyes never leaving Declan's face for a second as if she
wants to keep the enemy in plain sight. Christian makes her sit back down.

"This is where I need you to really trust me. Trust me with your life," he says firmly still holding her hand, his own eyes never leaving Declan.

"I guess I don't have a choice, Mr Dalban."

"No you don't," he acknowledges. "I'm going to pay and we are going to leave and go back to my apartment. Do everything I ask of you and…"

"Don't argue," he hears her whisper under her breath.

He reaches into his inside pocket and casually brings out his wallet, beckoning the waiter over so he can pay the bill. Mayer just stands there watching them. He is as still as one of the sculptures in the Louvre.

Christian sees Isabelle run her hand through her hair once, twice, three times. Time to move. He takes her arm and pulls her up with a jolt to his side. He takes her hand in a firm tight grip that even she can't wriggle out of. She whimpers but he doesn't hear any words of protest as he leads her away from the front of the restaurant towards her tormentor.

Christian can feel his pulse racing along with his heart. He wants to meet danger, face it down and laugh in its face. It's what kept him going all those years in the army risking his life for Queen and country. Maybe he just has a death wish. He doesn't care, his priority is keeping Isabelle out of that bastard's clutches.

Ace of Swords

Hi Everyone,



I have posted the blurb of Ace of Swords, the forthcoming sequel to Knight of Swords which will be released in Novemember 2011 along with a short excerpt from the novel below. Hope you like it.



I will be posting a review of a movie I saw today called 'Hereafter' over the weekend along with some details of a book I am interested in writing on past life experience. I am eager to write this book as I am very enthusiastic and fascinated by the subject after some of my own recent spooky experiences.



Happy Reading for now!



Have a great weekend.



Sara



Ace of Swords



Nathan travels to a Scottish castle owned by Lycan leader, Marcus Duart to procure a cure for Juliet. Unexpectedly, he finds himself caught in a trap set by a powerful witch who seeks revenge upon the Taleian Queen and her race.



On awakening, Juliet finds the witch has taken Nathan for her own and transformed him into a demon, hell bent on his Queen's destruction. Stripped of her powers and throne by the witch, Juliet is forced to flee for her life and evade death at Nathan's hand.



Juliet must find a way to remind Nathan of their strong love for each other and battle the witch to retrieve her throne.





Excerpt From Ace of Swords



My captor had won and now he was claiming his prize. He appeared approving of my silence and began dragging my body along the dock into the fog. I made every attempt to keep my face from the ground but it scraped and bruised along the coarseness of the net and the cobbled path. I did not want to belong to anyone but Nathan and endure a life where another cold stranger was forced upon me. I would find a way to die. That would be my escape and Nathan's proof of my loyalty and undying love if he ever became whole again.



Gerard continued to drag my aching body over the cobbles along the docks to an unknown destination and into the fog that rolled over the Thames and on into the city. But he was to suddenly stop. I could see his shoulders tense as we all heard the sound of footsteps in the fog ahead coming towards us in a determined manner.



He ordered the two human men forward to investigate. Each of them drew a knife from their breast pocket as we watched them disappear into the ghostly white air that swirled around us to obscure our vision of what lay ahead. Our heightened Taleian vision was of no use in the fog, only the night. There was no sound apart from their own footsteps now and that of the water and boats lapping against the side of the dock.



Silence reigned for a minute or more and then the distant cry of a man was heard and the sharp slice of a sword moving through the damp air. The sound was followed by the bounce of an object hitting the ground and rolling out of the fog towards us. I gave a startled gasp when the human's decapitated head appeared. Another slice of air and the next human's head quickly followed with enough force to roll and touch Gerard's foot. With an angry growl Gerard kicked the head away from him and out into the Thames.



'Give me my sword,' he demanded of the Taleian that carried it.



The other two Taleians took a defensive stance as Gerard raised his sword ready to strike at his unseen opponent and the determined footsteps continued once more towards us.



A tall shadow emerged from the fog in the dim gas light. He was immaculately dressed as a gentleman of birth with an aristocratic elegance about him that no other seemed to bear. Relief flooded the blood that still pumped through my veins and my heart swelled with love.



Nathan was a terrifying haunting vision as he emerged from the night. His eyes were dark and were narrowed in anger at Gerard. For a brief moment they were drawn to my pathetic captive figure and I felt the spark of his fear for me. It was only brief for it turned to explosive anger.



'Another challenger?' Gerard hissed. 'I got here first. She is mine and I am taking her.'



Nathan's eyes widened.



'You dare to take my Queen and defile her?'



Gerard gave a small nervous laugh. 'Who are you to call her your Queen?'



His question appeared mute, for his curious and anxious tone told everyone he already knew who Nathan was to us all.



Nathan's voice was dark and soft as melted chocolate when he spoke. It only served to heighten the menace of his position.



'I am the Knight of Swords.'

The Devil You Know

Here is the new cover for my erotic thriller with a very dark twist set in Paris, The Devil You know. It will be released by Hellfire Publishing on the 15th July 2011. The Devil You Know is not for the faint hearted and isn't a happy go lucky romance either. I thought I better make that straight because I have come under fire from a couple of romance book review blogs who were under the mistaken belief that Knight of Swords was a nice romance and got a horrible shock! Lol.

I have included the blurb below and you can read sample chapters of the book if you look in the archive section. Hope you like it. Oh and if anyone wants to review it for their blog please contact me at sara@saracurranross.com. Thanks.


The Devil You Know


You take one step out of that door without me and you are in serious trouble. Leave my side once and you are a dead woman."

Christian Dalban is hired to protect Isabelle Mayer from the violent head of a mafia family who will stop at nothing to force her back into his bed. But Christian is determined that she won't find out why he is the only man capable of succeeding where others have failed. If she knew the reason she would never trust him with her life nor would he blame her. But as their relationship develops into a passionate sexual encounter Christian realises that he is not the only one keeping a secret that could threaten both of their lives.


Enjoy!

Sara

New Story

Hi Everyone,

I have been wondering what to post about next. I thought about boring you with a round up of my eventful life last week but decided to leave that until another day. Lol. I have been messing around with a new story and thought I would share it's beginnings with you.

It hasn't even got a title and I am still wondering if it is going to be a historical romance or the start of a series of books about two amateur sleuths investigating murder and crime in late nineteenth century London. I am liking the sound of the last idea but I would love to know how you think it should go. How would you like to see the story develop? Please leave a comment.

Here it is. Happy Reading!

Sara


London, 1891

Lady Cordelia Tempest sat demurely in front of her cousin and guardian Lord Henry waiting for him to speak. Six years her elder, he was dressed to go to the theatre wearing his top hat, the butler waiting patiently in the hall with his cloak. He hardly ever called her into his presence so she could only suspect he had some bad news to deliver or he was to issue her with a reprimand. She had examined her conduct of the preceding days and morning and could find nothing at fault.

She looked up at him standing in front of her leaning back on his cane. It was a lazy stance but her handsome cousin only served to make it elegant. He looked down at her from his tall height with hooded green eyes as though whatever she was about to say he wouldn't believe it. The very idea made her cross and the guilt of the emotion showed on her pretty porcelain features as the beginnings of a blush.

Lady Tempest was annoyed at her cousin Julian for putting her in this embarrassing position. Didn't he know she was nineteen and not a child anymore? Cordelia straightened her back and made sure her large sapphire blue eyes shone with just a little more defiance than was usual in her demeanour.

'Cousin, I believe I have been neglecting my duty of care,' he began in his eloquent carefree voice. 'I have been informed that you have. . .' he paused, a brow creasing his young dark features. 'Been seen in the company of the American, Abel Reeves. Despite his wealth the man takes delight in being nothing short of a swindler and criminal for sport. Young wealthy heiresses like yourself are also something of a sport for him,' he said arching one eyebrow as he put on his gloves. 'I am surprised that you would associate with a dangerous man like Abel Reeves. I really thought you were too sensible a child for such behaviour.'

'Please, Julian, I am not a child anymore and I have not been associating with Abel Reeves. He has merely spoken to me on a couple of occasions. He wanted to take a walk with me in the park and take me to dinner. Of course I refused but he is a persistent man.'

Cordelia moved uneasily in her seat. She couldn't tell Maria anything. That was the last time she would confide in her maid. She must have run straight to the old battle axe herself, Mrs Potts, Lord Henry's housekeeper. The woman did not like her and disapproved of the freedom she was allowed in Lord Henry's house. It would have been too tempting to ignore the opportunity to give Julian a reason to be disappointed in her.

'Lord Henry, the carriage is waiting,' the butler interrupted holding Julian's evening cloak out to him.

Julian frowned again and nodded.

'I have to go Cordelia, ladies do not like to be kept waiting. We will talk of this more in the morning. I trust what you have told me but it might be prudent if I had a word with the man. I will not have him harassing you.'

Cordelia stood as her cousin prepared to leave feeling frantic with concern.

'Please, cousin I can deal with the matter. I do not need anyone to speak on my behalf.'

'Nonsense. You are but a child and must be cared for.'

'I am not a child anymore. Mr Reeves will not take kindly to your interference.'

Julian gave a laugh.

'No I don't suppose he will but I am relishing the prospect of it.'

She caught Julian's arm.

'He may do you violence, cousin. Please let me deal with the matter alone.'

'I will do no such thing.' He gave her a grin and a wink. 'Do not worry about me, cousin. I am more than capable of looking after myself. I am well known for holding my own in a fight. But, hush,' he said putting a finger to his lips in mock humour. 'Do not tell Mrs Potts that I told you that. She disapproves of my decadent lifestyle as it is. You know how fearsome she is. Let us not give her another reason to glare at us with that ugly frown.'

Cordelia gave a weak smile, dismayed that he still thought of her as the small blonde blue- eyed eight year old that came to live with him and his father after the death of her widowed mother. To Julian she was still the small child with whom he played and comforted when she pined for her mother.
Her confident cousin might believe he could deter Abel Reeves from paying her scandalous attention but he was wrong. The man had become more persistent than of late, sending her gifts and displaying annoyance if he found her in the company of other men who were merely part of her social set.

He would not like being told he had to stay away from her and the gentleman had a way of persuading other men to leave her alone with a subtle threats. Julian would undoubtedly be hurt if not by Abel himself then one of his friends who appeared to do all of his bidding without question. It would not do. She would have to think of something.

News

Hi Everyone,

Wow, I can't believe how many people have been looking at my blog today! Thanks. Hope you found it interesting.

I know I have been absent for a while but I am still in the land of the living! I am getting Sleeping Love ready to submit to my publisher and preparing to do a whole lot of edits on The Devil You Know and the second book in The Swords Series, Ace of Swords. I should have covers for both books to show you soon.

I will be posting some other work and stuff 'n' nonsense in the next few days so stay tuned. Oh and fingers crossed my publisher likes Sleeping Love!

Thanks Guys.

Take care.

Sara

News

Hi Everyone,

Hope you are enjoying your weekend and if you are in the UK like me, your bank holiday weekend!

I have news! I have signed a contract with Hellfire Publishing for my dark and very sexy thriller, The Devil You Know. It will be released on 15th July 2011. Yay!!

Just to give you a teaser I am posting the first chapter tonight. Happy Reading!

Sara


Chapter One


Christian takes hold of the girl's arm and pushes it up her back tight. He knows it's painful and uncomfortable enough for her to feel the tingle of blood draining from her arm. He knows the feeling well. But she's a fighter. He's too strong for her but she's still trying to get free.

He feels a sharp stab of pain when her nails scrape and dig along his wrist drawing blood. Instinctively he swears, violently pushing his hand hard into the small of her back, watching her fall onto the sparsely carpeted floor. She cries out and a small part of him twists with remorse. Hell, he can't take any chances, working in security to the famous and the stinking rich has gained him too many enemies that want to see him dead or disgraced and run out of Paris, even if she is a pretty bundle of skirt.

He straddles her holding both arms up her back, hurling French at her like there is no tomorrow. She answers back straining to raise her head from the dirty yellow carpet he has her face squashed into.

"So you are English, you might want to work on your accent," he tells her in English. "Now maybe you would like to tell me what you are doing creeping into my room from the balcony in the middle of the damn night?"

"Let me go. I had no choice. I jumped balconies. A man forced his way into my room...."

She has a soft voice, gentle and feminine yet he hears something hissing with controlled bitterness behind her words. She sounds afraid of him, as she should be, but he's not so sure. He sighs impatiently determined to make her feel afraid so she will tell him the truth.

He pulls harder on her arms until he hears her squeal. He's met her type before, all cotton candy sugar sweet girl, but more deadly than any man could ever be.

"Try again and tell me the truth."

"It's not as though I had a choice."

This time he definitely hears the hiss behind her speech as she spits her words out. He feels his brow crease with surprise. He's right, she isn't afraid as much as she should be, it's almost as though she is attempting to control her temper with him. He laughs inside, he's intrigued.

"Tell me the truth. If you'd stop struggling it wouldn't hurt so much. Who are you? Maybe the police know who you are. Maybe I should call them."

He feels a sudden tightness in her body. It's like her blood has frozen or something. She's gone cold, really cold, he can feel her fear. She's silent and then she stutters.

"A..A..All right, let me up and I will tell you who I am and what I was doing."

He decides to take a chance that she isn't bluffing. He doesn't like the tight feeling in her body. In one swift he pulls her up sharply and drags her nearer the bed. The lamp sitting on the side table is casting a low dim light over the faded yellow bedspread that looks as if it hasn't been changed in the last thirty years. He lets go of her arms and watches her rub her wrists.

She seems afraid to look up at him, make eye contact. But then she chances it. Now they are next to the light he isn't straining to look at her in the moonlight coming in through the shrouded French windows.

Her eyes are green, the colour almost an exact match for emeralds. They are twinkling like jewels at him. Her figure is small and curved, a slim hourglass. She's more than tempting. He notices his tallness and uses it to his advantage to intimidate her, leaning over her like the leaning tower of Pisa. He gives her the once over, studying her with scrutiny for signs that would give her game and identity away.

The woman blushes and lowers her eyes to his chest, he follows them and suddenly realises his black shirt isn't buttoned up after he pulled it on in a hurry when she came through the French windows. He gives her a lazy mocking smile and he sees a flicker of embarrassed irritation flash across her eyes. He grins wider. They don't know each other, there is no history between them, so why does he get the feeling that she hates him already?

He stands in front of her.

"So you've been in trouble with the police before?"

He takes out his mobile and calls them. Time to call the pretty lady's bluff.

"No, no please not the police."

Now she sounds frightened, now he might get somewhere. He allows another smile to light his face. This time its sadistic. Now he has her trapped. Again he sees irritation and heavy bitterness clouding her eyes with frustration. He decides to push it further as he watches her hands curl into fists at her sides. He knows she wants to hit him and make a dash for it but then she wouldn't get far.

He puts his hands on his hips and looks down at her.

"No I haven't been in trouble with them before," she sounds as though she is trying to keep her temper again. He watches her mentally try to rein herself in, softening her voice. "I wasn't trying to steal anything. What I have told you is true. If you don't believe me, come back to my room and I will show you. He will still be there,' Her voice sounds upper crust English, sexy.

He shakes his head, holds his phone up and presses re-dial. He watches her bottom lip tremble as they both listen to it ring. She whimpers when she hears the tinny disembodied voice on the other end of the phone answer the call. Time seems to hang paralysed in the air.

"You will have to do better than that."

"Please, look I will do anything you ask, anything if you will just let me go."

She's using that fragile voice again. He sees her search his face for some kind of sympathy, some gallant gesture. But he knows the steel armour he wears over his features is impenetrable. Her head bows and long honey coloured curls cascade around her shoulders. He doesn't have to see to know that she is trying to hide tears. But then she lifts her head, her cheeks are wet but there is a look of determined will on her face. He can throw what the hell he likes at her but she will still fight him.

He can't work her out. She holds her head high, jutting her pretty chin out at him, daring him to do it, she can take it. He watches her jump when he snaps the phone shut.

"Who hit you?" he asks studying the bruising along her cheek, clearly visible since she's raised her head up at him and her hair isn't hiding the side of her face anymore.

The strength in her eyes flickers and dies. She looks at him confused. He's unsettled her. She drops her chin immediately. He moves towards her and she takes a step back. He takes her arm, gently this time, and pulls her back to heel, still feeling resistance running strong within her.

He wants a closer look, wants to know more about her. Carefully he cups her chin to tilt her head to one side. It is an effort. She tenses even further when he smoothes his fingertips over the dramatic mixture of violet and dark blue. He makes his touch careful, protective, as he turns her back to face him.

"Who hit you?" he repeats his question, softly.

"He didn't hit me this time, it was when he banged my head off the wall," her words are a whisper as he sees her mentally replay back the memory through her eyes as they scrunch and sting with pain.

It's his turn to tense. He blinks and feels the familiar anger that's coiled so tight inside him raise its ugly head. Just like Marie, just like Marie, beaten and raped and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could do.

The woman is looking at him with confusion again, trying to read his thoughts, second guess what is coming next. He stares at her, sees the pain behind her eyes, sees her strength shining through at him like a defiant beacon. He can't help but admire it.

His features lose their hardness. Damn it. He is a fool but she's touched something deep inside his heart - struck a chord with something that has turned hard, black, and is withering to death since Marie's death. She's feeding it a little water and giving it some hope that it can live again. He stops staring at her and curses loudly. She jumps in response.

"You are safe for now beautiful, but if you don't tell me what you are in my room for…" He stops. Damn it she's unsettled him now. "I will have no choice but to turn you over to the police." He's not going to let her win and catch him off guard, he's learnt the hard way about falling for women and feeling sorry for them since Marie. Maybe he should try another tact with this woman. He toughens inside again, intent on not allowing her fragility and pretty face seep through his skin and knock him off guard. He's seen this all before.

He replaces his fingers back on her cheek. Her eyes look down at his fingers with suspicion.

"Hush, I won't hurt you like him."

"Look I didn't come here to steal anything. Please let me go."

He ignores the plea in her voice.

"You came into my room unannounced, uninvited in the middle of the night."

He strokes her cheek gently.

"Look I've already told you…"

He holds her chin up until he can feel her straining on his grip. He's showing his power over her.

"I don't believe you. How about you stop playing games and tell me why you are here? Did someone send you? Are you here to seduce me for them?"

He can't resist giving her the once over again, admiring the perfect plump swell of her breasts in the little black dress she is wearing. He wouldn't mind being seduced by her but he did have a reputation to uphold, and to be caught with a prostitute in a run down hotel in the middle of Pigalle with a bruise to the girl's face could conjure up some interesting stories and false accusations that could ruin him. Just like his father wants.

It's probably him who sent her. It's what his father does best, knowing people's weakness, exploiting it and using it against them until they gave him what he wanted. And they always did. Then he killed them for it. Well this time Gabriel Dumont and his precious Mafia family would have to do without his illegitimate son. The prodigal son would not be returning to take over the family business and perpetuate the family line. He escaped years ago and he is never going back, not even if hell freezes over. This time the evil bastard will just have to do without.

She looks directly at him.

"Don't be stupid. I came over the balcony from the room next door. If I wanted to take your virtue I would hardly risk my life like that would I?"

His eyebrows rise and he can't help smiling. The woman has balls. He likes that.

"I don't know, I've heard worse stories."

The amusement lining his words seems too much for her and he watches her eyes narrow to sharp points.

"What's your name?" He lowers his voice to a whisper once more.

"Isabelle," she answers automatically and visibly regrets her slip of the tongue. She begins moving her feet, clearly feeling the heat of the painful strain on her neck and chin.

"That's a beautiful name Isabelle."

His hands slip to her neck, his fingertips trailing her skin, just where he knows she will be most sensitive to touch. She freezes, looks at him with undisguised horror. But he feels her cold skin warm against his fingers.

"Isabelle who?"

She closes her mouth tight shut. He grins and decides not to pursue her name any further.

"Isabelle is fine. Now Isabelle there is something you could do for me, something that would excuse what you have done here tonight and what you have come here to do."

"But I haven't done anything and I'm not here to do anything," she's most insistent trying to disguise the audible panic in her shaky voice.

He puts a finger to her lips to beckon silence and cups her bare shoulders with his hands. They sizzle like a brand against her flushed skin. His hands slide over her skin like silk. She can hardly breathe.

He makes his touch light, arousing, and watches her eyes glaze despite the scowl on her face. He feels a surge of triumph. For all of her pretence he can see desire blazing hot in her eyes. She looks away. Coyness is attractive in a woman he muses. She will give in any moment and confess everything then they can really get down to business. But then it's better if she doesn't so he can seduce the truth from her. It is an interesting game they are both playing.

He walks around her and finds the zip of her dress. It's a beautiful dress, soft, silky, just like her skin. It clings enticingly over her slim rounded curves. She's so small and dainty. Her skin is soft and creamy and there's sadness in the recesses of her eyes threatening to shatter her into a million tiny pieces. His father is getting good at their game. He knows that his son is always a sucker for a damsel in distress. But daddy should have heard the news as of six months ago. He isn't fooled so easily now, he's left all of that behind. No woman will ever be allowed to get that close again. His days of playing the knight in shining armour rescuing damsels in distress are over. He is more likely to be causing them distress.

He ignores the stab of guilt and carries on. Feeling sorry for people got you nowhere. They always turned on you at some stage. He finds the zip. She smells so clean and fresh, pure and delicate. There's a smell of jasmine and wild flowers on her skin. She is a breath of fresh air in this horrible dingy and dirty room. He hears her breath dry and shrivel in her throat. He fingers the zip, pausing, waiting. She remains silent so he takes it as consent. He carefully pulls the zip down ever so slowly, wanting her to feel the cool air hanging in the room as he exposes each delicious part of her body. It's like taking a peak under the wrapping of a present before Christmas. He knows she feels vulnerable and can't help but relish his power. He knows she is feeling aroused although she is desperately trying to ignore it.

He carefully opens the dress and stands back surveying her lightly tanned skin. He feels her shrink as he fingers the bridge of a strapless black lace bra encasing her breasts. He continues the action, once again giving her time to object, to give in. Not a word. He frowns and for a brief moment he suddenly realises that he might not hold all the power after all, instead she has it. He frowns, he can't resist her and she knows. She is the one making him do the entire running, making him please her and tease her into giving him the truth. But it won't stop him. He doesn't care anymore, can only see what he wants and needs and will take it.

He replaces his palms on her shoulders and lowers them down her back with firm pressure. She shivers. He dips his hands to grasp her naked waist and pulls her sharply back against him before plunging his eager hands down onto the flimsy lace and satin underwear that so prettily match her bra. He can see the pert cheeks of her buttocks and feels his desire swell.

His response is to pull her back further until his hardness nestles between them and she can feel it hard and pulsing urging her taking. Again, there is no sound escaping her lips. He's perplexed but it doesn't stop him. He strokes those fingers that have become so expert at pleasuring a woman to get what he needs, through her honey hair. It's so soft. It smells of peaches and cream. He presses his nose against it. A woman hasn't smelt so sweet and pure to him in a long time. He wants to bury his face in her sweetness and disappear. He gives a small inward laugh, listen to you, you sound just like a bloody woman.

He returns his fingers to the thin straps of her dress resting on her shoulders. She shivers again as he slides them down and a little whimper escapes her lips. He pauses again but nothing.

He wants her body revealed, to expose every secret part of her, to conquer her will. He can see her eyes following the descent of her dress with him as it caresses and swishes down across her more than ample attributes. He moves in with the expertise of a skilled hunter trapping his prey. She jumps when she feels the catch of her bra being lifted before the dress has even reached the ground. She gasps with horror and quickly cups her breasts covering them for protection.

He hears himself give a small laugh and brushes his eager fingers down her side to soothe her fear.

"Don't be coy with me Isabelle, give me your breasts," he whispers seductively against her ear, knowing her skin is tingling with excitement, begging for his touch. He sweeps his hands around her body until they cover her own over her breasts. He caresses her hands and leans in close. They are beautifully manicured but she's been trying to nibble at them, like a secret nail biter. Everything about her says money and vulnerable, but sneaking into his room in the middle of the night and her willingness to face him down says different. He should check out her story but he doesn't really care if it is true or not now. He just wants her. He starts to prise her hands away and with some struggle he succeeds. He groans, cupping the soft feminine flesh so greedily.

He feels her involuntarily arch her back and press her breasts tight into his palms. So she wants this just as much as he does. He won't disappoint her. Her wish is his command. Her nipples are so hard and erect, more evidence of her arousal. He pulls them sharply and hears her cry out with pleasure, arching her back against him.

Her breathing is laboured with desire and her eyes are closed as if she is ashamed. He turns her around and looks down at her small voluptuous form that is being offered as a sacrifice. It's a struggle for him to keep control. She slowly looks up at him. Her eyes display her soul that's a mixture of dangerous want and fatal fragility. Her pale

lips are full and swollen with a fine sheen of moisture glistening. She's so beautiful standing there and she's all his for that moment. The notion hits him hard in the stomach as though he's just been punched. His hands grip her hips possessively and tug her towards him.

He strokes a digit over her clit. It's so wet, the material barring his touch is sopping wet. He's made her like this. It makes him feel strong giving him the illusion of being in control again. He knows he is the only one at that moment who can satisfy the desire pounding inside her. He won't wait anymore. His hand grips the top of her panties and rips them hard, shredding the material to the floor. Her pelvis bucks against him and the motion of the contact is nearly enough to send him over the edge. Those pouting lips open to gasp and he captures them, desperate to taste her essence.

He wrestles her tongue and reigns dominant. He can't wait, he can't wait. She's like some kind of drug he needs, only she can satisfy his painful ache. He unzips his trousers and looks down at the black lacy hold ups still adorning her legs and thinks how damn sexy she looks. He turns back and snatches her mouth feeling her arms slip around his neck. He smiles against her mouth in triumph.

He lifts her up and cruelly pulls her buttocks apart before pushing her back callously onto the wooden bedpost. Then he spears his cock inside her so fast and deep and makes his kill. He drives inside her feeling her begin to tighten around him. She cries out, he's driving so fast and she's helplessly bucking against him, sliding up and down the post. He comes so hot and deep. Its pleasure is so painful and consuming. She comes a second after and he can see the pained ecstasy on her face riding her like a reluctantly saddled horse until it breaks her in.

He captures her lips again, unable to stop himself. He sucks tenderly on her bottom lip. Her lips rise to meet his, they are as hungry as his own.

"You are a very beautiful woman Isabelle," and he means it.

She opens her eyes and stares at him with confusion and disbelief as though no man has ever complimented her before like that. He finds it hard to believe. He's never met a woman like her. She holds something potent he needs. He's never felt so intoxicated with sex before.

Christian looks at her face, it's wearing some kind of euphoria, like she's never experienced sex before. But that's not possible, she must be in her early to mid thirties, hell she can't be a virgin. Who is she? That's the way it is for him now, sex first, name later if desired, that way it's safer. He's won their little game now to make her tell him who she is and what she is doing in his room. He stares down at her again, curling his hand around her face, he doesn't know why, it just feels natural. He feels an overwhelming urge to kiss her but resists, suddenly, afraid of the power she has over him.

He's not used to being out of control and its happening more and more these days. Her legs are still wrapped around him, he's still deep inside her, hardening again. He wants her once more but he can't, it isn't right even though it's a hypocritical thought to have. He feels a pang of guilt and dismisses it quickly. As if to prevent himself from coaxing her to fuck again he lowers her legs to the floor and slips out of her body.

She doesn't know where to look, she's embarrassed. He zips up his trousers and gallantly picks up her dress and holds it out to her. He looks at the shredded underwear and scoops it up in his hand and throws it in the small waste paper bin. There's nothing to salvage. She watches it land in the bin and he hears himself apologise. He watches her, mesmerised, as she pulls the dress up over those sexy hips, swaying them to slide the material up her body. She shouldn't be let out with that body, it's lethal, he decides.

She folds her arms across her chest and looks around the room. She appears to feel awkward, unable to meet his eyes. What next? What kind of game is she playing? She should be flattered with his attention. She's supposed to use it to her advantage, offer him her delights, the treasures of her body, work her way out with her looks. She's already reeled him in. His eyes lower to her chest but something catches his eyes just above it. He moves closer gently catching her arm as she tries to back away, whispering that he won't hurt her. More bruising. He feels pissed off at himself, pissed off at her for having bruising and making him think about it and what he should have done with her. He finds fading purple and yellow bruising around her neck in a perfect circlet. A man has tried to strangle her. He feels a familiar rage slash down his middle and settle with fury in his fists. How could a man inflict damage like that on such delicate fragile skin? He doesn't even know him but he wants to kill him anyway. He cups her throat ignoring her small protests and trails his fingertips along it, reflecting on the scenario in which she received the injury.

He makes sure his touch is light, just like a feather's, knowing how much pain she could be in. A painful memory creases his brow, tenses his hand a small amount as he touches her, afraid of the connection to his recent past. He sees Marie lying in her home, the one she'd gone back to, trying to make things work with that bastard husband of hers, the one she left him for. There's blood everywhere, her skull's caved in, she's naked, raped several times. Her drunken husband is slobbering all over her, saying he's sorry, he's sorry over and over again. The words ring in his ears even now. He'd tried to help her but she wouldn't let him, kept making excuses for the bastard and that time he'd washed his hands of her. He'd told her that if she went back he couldn't help her again. But she didn't want his help. He should have tied her to a chair to stop her.

That bastard, it's all he can call him, and his mates thought it would be fun to take turns with her and when she objected he'd caved her head in. He blinks trying to clear the image from his mind and realises he can't breathe. It had taken nearly ten gendarmes to keep him off the fucking bastard.

He suddenly backs away from Isabelle afraid of the force of his anger, knowing she is the trigger of his guilt. She looks at him bemused, fear creeping back into her eyes. He puts his hands on his hips feeling awkward and a little remorseful.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" he stops, she's heading for the door.

He catches her arm easily and swings her back round.

"Hey not so fast, you still haven't told me what you were doing in my room."

She looks at him as if he is poison. He can feel her trembling, he wonders whether it is with fear or being close to him. She can look at him like that all she wants but he knows that she wanted what just happened between them as much as he did. He could feel it, see it written all over her face. Something has happened between them in this rundown cheap hotel in the middle of Pigalle. It's more than just a casual fuck. She possesses something he suddenly realises he needs and he feels it's the same for her. Maybe it's what the yanks call a connection. Maybe they got something right after all. He swears under his breath, he sounds like a fucking Romeo. That's something the old Christian would say, the new one is cynical and bitter, it's better that way.

Her cheeks are paling and for a moment he wonders if she is going to pass out. He shouldn't have pushed it with her. Hell knows what else that bastard has done to her. He begins to guide her to the bed, mindful that she should sit down, or even lie down. But she struggles like mad, neatly twists her wrist and slips it from his hand and runs. He follows her out into the corridor calling after her. He takes hold of both her arms just before she walks through the open door of her room, right next door. The room he didn't believe she was staying in. They both stop dead in their tracks when they see what is lying in wait.