That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,27

she had tripped on her skirt he had not been able to hold her upright but had instead tumbled on top of her, unleashing the chemistry that existed between them.

He felt again the raw sensations that had gripped him when he had fallen on top of her. Her soft flesh yielding beneath him had sent an electrical charge through him that had been stronger and more powerful than anything he had ever felt before, and despite all his experience he had been taken aback by its sheer force.

Even now, he could hardly believe its intensity. He had experienced physical attraction before, but never on that scale. It had been so overwhelming that he had almost given into it and kissed her fully where she had fallen in the warm, fragrant hay.

And more than kissed her . . .

As he thought again of her soft hair, deep-set eyes and beautiful lips he felt his body stir. She had looked so right beneath him that he had felt that was where she was meant to be, and he had not been able to prevent himself taking her face in his hands and running his fingers over her smooth and delicate skin. He remembered the soft silkiness of it beneath his fingers, and remembered how it had made him long to run his hands over her entire body.

He made an effort to turn his thoughts into different channels. He loosened his tie as he strode towards the house, glad of the cold water that had drenched him, as it went some way towards cooling the passionate flames that still gripped him, even now Cicely had gone.

Still, there was one bright side to the situation, he thought. At least he had managed to stop himself before things had gone too far.

He had Roddy to thank for that. The sound of his brother’s voice had recalled him to reality just in time, for it would have been madness to have given in to the urges that had overtaken him and made him their plaything in the barn. To even think of kissing Cicely Haringay on the lips had been pure insanity. Cicely Haringay, of all people, who looked down on him and regarded him with contempt! If he had had to experience an attraction so strongly, why could it not have been for a nice young woman who was fun to be with, instead of one of the landed gentry.

But Cicely is fun to be with.

The unwelcome thought pushed itself into his mind.

How else would he have been able to forget himself and behave like a boy, if she had not been fun? He did not want to face the fact, but he had not enjoyed himself so much in years.

He had had the responsibilities of a man put on his shoulders at an early age. With a dead father and a sickly mother he had become the man of the household at the age of twelve and had done what he could to provide for the family. He had taken any job that had offered, and had worked long hours so that Roddy could get the necessary schooling to take up a white-collar job. He had found Katie a place in service, and then, having done what he could for his brother and sister, he had set about making his fortune.

And when he had made it he had rescued Katie from service and Roddy from the life of a pettifogging clerk. It had been work, work, work. Not that he resented any of it. He had done well and he had helped his family, and he was proud of that fact. But there had not been much time for anything else.

And then, out of the blue, he had found himself having fun with Miss Cicely Haringay. She might have been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was lively and intelligent and, contrary to what he had at first supposed, she had a sense of humour.

No matter how difficult it was, he had to acknowledge that her company had given him very real enjoyment. Her knowledge had proved invaluable, and her daring in riding the bone-shaking machines had proved impressive. The love she had obviously borne her father had made him admire her, for loyalty was important to him, and it was clear Miss Haringay knew the meaning of it, and her laughter when he had fallen in the horse-trough had proved she had a sense of the ridiculous that was