Rare and Precious Things: The Blackstone Affair

30th August

Italian Riviera

THE Italian sun shining down upon the village of Porto Santo Stefano warmed me, and although the view of the rock islands in the small cove was stunning, I didn’t want to open my eyes and see it. I was too warm and sleepy, too perfectly content to even think about anything but letting myself indulge in the peace we had finally found. What a difference a little under a week made.

Ethan and I were in a very perfect place at the moment…where we didn’t have to panic about what we needed to do, or what bad thing could happen to us, or be shocked about what already had happened to us.

Yes, my life couldn’t compare to any resemblance of what it had been four short months ago, but then again, I was blissfully in love with my new husband and, after the initial shockwave of finding out we were going to be parents wore off, very much in love with that idea, too. I reached for my belly and rubbed over it gently. We had a peach for about two more days. After that? It was onward into lemon territory. My next appointment with Dr. Burnsley wasn’t for another month, and even though the scans might be able to show the sex of the baby that early, I was determined not to find out. I wanted to be surprised, and nobody was changing my mind on the matter. I’d told Ethan he could find out if he wanted to, but he’d better keep the knowledge to himself. He’d just given me a slightly bewildered look that probably meant something like, I love you, but you are downright scary right now, baby, and changed the subject. Such a man. But he was my man, and that was the important thing. We’d get through this frightening process of becoming parents together.

And so here I was, sunning on a private Italian beach at an exclusive villa, expecting that my man might bring me a cool drink when he finished his swim. Not bad, Mrs. Blackstone. I still hardly believed the name was real. The Mrs. Blackstone part was something Ethan took to heart because he sure said it a lot.

I squinted at my wedding ring and spun it around on my finger. I’m married now. To Ethan. We’re having a baby sometime toward the end of February. I wondered when, and if, the disbelief would ever wear off.

I turned my head the other way, readjusted myself on my side, and closed my eyes again, prepared to soak up some more of the glorious Italian sunshine, so abundant here, as opposed to where we lived. Autumn was just around the corner, and then the dreary days of winter in London would be fast on its heels. The time to enjoy the lovely sun was right now, so that’s what I did.

I let my mind wander, going to a place where everything was happy and easy, and tried to put all of the other things that were not happy and easy, away on their respective shelves, locked up tight in that scary cabinet I hated to open. The one for all the bad stuff to sit and gather some dust for a while—the worries about the regrets of life, the losses and the grief, the desperately poor decisions that had been made, and the consequences that resulted from those choices…

ICY drops falling onto my shoulder brought me out of my floaty sleep on the beach. Ethan must be back with my drink. I opened an eye and looked up at him blocking the sun from my body, not appreciating the shocking greeting, and taking in his stern expression. God, he was a beautiful man with his hard lines of muscle and golden skin. I could look at him for years and never be content with the looking. And the complete unconcern with what others might think of him made the combination all the more attractive. Ethan was no pretty boy who got satisfaction out of fawning admirers. And they were frickin’ everywhere. And not only women, either. Plenty of men admired my husband, too. He was oblivious to it all.

“What did you bring me?” I muttered.

He ignored my question and handed me a bottle of cold water. “Time for more sun block, you’re getting a tad pink.”

“You’re just saying that so you can roam your hands all over me,” I said.

He dropped down next to my towel and raised a brow. “You’re fucking right about that, my beauty.”

I sipped some water and closed my eyes as he applied sunscreen all over my shoulders and arms, and relished the feel of his hands on my body. His hands. His touch. The feel of Ethan’s hands on me still rendered me weak. No wonder I was unable to resist him when he pursued me in the beginning. It had been like that from the first for me…with Ethan. His searing gaze across the room at me that night in the Andersen Gallery, the coercion on the street to accept a ride home from a virtual stranger, the way he steered me with a firm hand to my back into his Rover, and demanded I eat the food and water he bought for me, that first demanding kiss in the Shire’s Building hallway, how he took those rights to touch me as if they were his due, with no apology for overstepping social boundaries. That was how Ethan has always been with me.

Ethan’s “claiming” of me had occurred in a way that I understood right from the beginning, even if it seemed ridiculous and unbelievable such a man would be in pursuit of me personally, it still made sense to me when I accepted my fate with Ethan James Blackstone. He had a way of asserting his ownership of me whenever he touched me. Felt like heaven.

“That feels so good.”

He grated under his breath. “I agree. Now turn over.”

I rolled for him and brought my arm over my face to shield the sun. He worked in the sunscreen carefully, making sure he covered every area. When he got to my chest, he dipped his purposeful fingers below the bra of my suit and brushed over my sensitive nipples—back and forth until they budded up high and tight, making me shiver for more.

“Are you taking advantage of me out in public view now?” I asked.

“Not at all,” he answered, scooting onto my towel to kiss me, “I am taking advantage of you on a very private beach, where nobody will bother us.”

He moved his hands up to take down the straps of my top. Open it fell, and then the glorious rasp of his whiskers brushed the area around my nipple as he teased it. There was a sharp internal zing at first touch now; due to the pregnancy I was sure. My nipples felt different when he started, but after that first jolt faded away, his sucking and nipping felt just as good as it always had. I ran my hands through his hair as he rained kisses over my breasts, loving his attentions.

“Just so you know, Blackstone, there won’t be any sex happening on this beach right now.”

“Awww, baby, you’ve just gutted me. I’ve been planning to have a hot beach shag with you for the whole honeymoon.”

“Well, if you have any shot at it you’d best try me once the sun goes down. It’s the middle of the day and we’re out here where anyone could come by and see us. And I’m not putting it out there for public consumption. Didn’t you ever see those shows about the hidden cameras filming beach sex?”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “But there isn’t a soul around here for miles. Just the sand and the sea…and us two souls.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“You are absolutely crazy, do you know that?” I pulled at his chin and kissed him on the lips.

He laughed at me, watching as I pulled the straps of my top back up and covered myself once more. “You’re absolutely crazy beautiful lying on that towel in your bikini. Pretty sure you ought to be illegal wearing that.”

I smiled at him for the praise, hoping it was true, and brought my hand to my stomach. “Pretty soon I won’t want to wear a bathing suit.”

He covered my hand with his. “But you are perfectly beautiful like this. Even peaches thinks so.” He spoke to my stomach, “Peaches? Dad here. Tell Mummy how beautiful she looks in her bikini, would you?”

I laughed at how sweetly adorable he was being, loving him even more than I did before, if that was even possible.

He pushed an ear up against my stomach and paused as if listening, nodding his head a few times in emphatic agreement. “Right. Peaches agrees that you look beautiful, and I would say that I have it on very good authority, that to argue with a baby who has yet to be born is completely useless.”

I sighed in happiness. “I love you, crazy husband.”

“I love you, beautiful wife,” he said with a wicked grin, “but I still think we should shag on the beach at least once before we leave this place.”

“Oh my God, you have such a one track mind now.” I shook my head slowly back and forth. “We need to find you a hobby.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Baby, my hobby is shagging you, in case you haven’t realized it yet.”

I tickled him in the ribs. “I think you should take up gardening, or maybe grouse hunting, or something.”

He easily caught my hand and blocked my tickling strategy. “I’ll play in your garden any time,” he muttered between soft, quick kisses to my lips, “and hunt your grouse, too.”

I snuggled against him and put my face right into the groove of his upper chest, breathing in his scent, close enough to feel the tickle of the hairs sprinkled there. “You make me so happy, Ethan.”

My words did something for him because I’d never seen him move so fast.

Ethan scooped me up off my towel and said, “Wrap your legs around me.”

I did as he asked and got myself adjusted around his waist, crossing my ankles behind his back.

We kissed the entire time he walked us off the beach, as if our bodies depended on it for sustenance. Ethan’s strength had always left me breathless, and having him carry me in his arms back to the villa, had the same result. Breathless and so turned on. Again.

The next couple of hours were spent tangled in bed, where he made love to me, slow and unhurried…

“WHAT do you want to do about dinner? Shall I cook?”

“Nope,” he answered.

“I really don’t mind, Ethan. It’s a lovely set up in the kitchen and everything’s stocked.”

Ethan played with my hair, dragging his fingers through the strands over and over. He liked to do it. It seemed to be a mindless task, something he did when we were awake in bed together, but I sensed it meant more to him. Soothing. It seemed to sooth him, and was a way to touch me without being sexual. Ethan liked to touch me all the time, sexual or not.

“You’re hungry.”

I nodded against his hand at my scalp. “My appetite is back. I need food to grow this child we made. And dessert.” I ticked him in the ribs to get him moving.

“So feisty you are…and impatient,” he teased. “Far be it from me to be stupid enough to deny food to a pregnant woman—”

“—don’t forget the dessert,” I reminded, with another go at his ribs, which he blocked easily.

“I’m taking you out tonight. I don’t want you to cook. And…without a doubt, there should be a decadent dessert for my girl.”

“Aww, thank you, baby, you are too good to me.” I offered my lips to his for a kiss.

He didn’t kiss me though, instead, his eyes lit up with a gleam that could only be described as wicked, when I felt his palm smack me on the ass with a playful clap. “You’d better move that divine fanny of yours into the shower before I decide to have it again.”

I scrambled off the bed, but before I left him there, I leaned over my very loving, but controlling husband, in all his bared male magnificence, and placed one fingertip at the middle of his chest to keep him down. I gave him the sultriest look I could summon up, cupped my breasts and drew on the nipples slowly, with little twists to the tips. I licked my lips exaggeratedly, using my tongue to curl along the edge of my mouth.

He was mesmerized by it all, and so still, he didn’t even look to be breathing as he watched my little sex-show, slash, lap-dance. I put my finger back on one of his nipples before dragging with my nail all the way down, ever so slowly, over his six pack of muscles, his belly, between his V, and finally, right to the base of his cock.

His torso tightened and flexed as I scratched him, teasing him without mercy. Ethan was my sexual minion in that moment and he and I both knew it. I couldn’t resist what I did next.

I winked at him. “I win,” I whispered, before dashing for the showers.

He chased me down, of course, tickling me, making me laugh as we washed up for our dinner date—but not before paying me back for what I’d done to him on the bed.

In orgasms.

“SOMEBODY is enjoying their dinner tonight.” Ethan watched me eating with a huge grin plastered on his handsome face.

I moaned at the flavor of the rich pasta in my mouth. “Oh me, oh my, this is the most delicious baked ziti I’ve ever tasted in my life. I wish I could make it like this.”

“Maybe you can. Take a picture with your mobile to help you remember some of how they prepared it.”

“That’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of it?” I reached for my purse.

The gleam in his eyes turned to teasing. “Probably because you’re too busy cramming it in.”

I kicked him in the foot under the table. “Jackass.”

“Only kidding,” he grunted. “I’m just grateful that you’re able to finally eat. I was concerned about you wasting away before, so now it’s just one less thing worrying me.”

I blew him an air kiss. “Number one, you wore me out earlier today, and number two, I think my body is making up for lost time when I couldn’t keep much down. If I allow myself to get over-hungry, then you’ll find you have one very cranky gorgon of a wife on your hands.” I made a face. “Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”

The ziti did agree with me, but mostly it was the fact I could now eat and not feel ill afterward. Our baby was definitely making his or her presence known despite being so tiny, and food is what was required to make everything work.

He put down his knife and fork and feasted his eyes on me. “Well, first, I loved wearing you out earlier today, and second, I love seeing you enjoying your food again. I’m not stupid. When my girl says she needs to eat, then she damn well better eat.” He topped his wine glass off. “And third, you’re one hell of a beautiful gorgon, even when you’re scaring the crap out of me.”

“Am I that scary now, Ethan? You can be honest.” I know some of my emotional highs and lows freaked him out, but pregnancy was hard on me too, and I did worry about the change in me. I couldn’t control any of it, and yet, I didn’t want to be the crazy hormonal wife that made him long for the good ole bachelor days either.

“Never.” He picked up my free hand and kissed the palm, his eyes smiling up at me lovingly. “What would be really scary is not being with my beautiful gorgon and our little peach.”

“I love you.” I managed to say the words without getting teary, but it wouldn’t take much. Ethan could pull emotion out of me by just looking at me.

“I love you more,” he said softly, reaching for his wine and taking a healthy swig. “And I think that was evidenced by the fact I let you drive us here tonight.” He emptied the rest of his glass in one drink. “I’m still leveling down from the white-knuckle ride.”

“Are you trying to wind me up, as you Brits say, by all the comments and flaunting the wine because you know I can’t have it?”

He opened his mouth in surprise first and then turned it into a million dollar smile to dazzle me. “You think I’m winding you up on purpose, baby?”

I didn’t say anything, just sat back in my seat and studied him thoroughly; the casual blue shirt highlighting his eyes, the simple linen slacks that suggested the powerful legs beneath, his Rolex and his wedding ring, the only adornments he wore. Ethan didn’t need adornments because his face and body were more than sufficient. Such a beautiful man was my husband. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe this very remarkable trait wouldn’t cause me much concern over the course of our lives together. Other women would try to catch him and it would drive me insane when they tried.

“I’ve discovered that I love to tease you,” he offered finally. The way in which he raked his eyes over my body told me the reaction he got out of me turned him on a little.

“What does it do for you?” I asked in a whisper, my body tightening in preparation for what he might say.

“It makes me hard when your eyes start flashing and you get feisty with me.” His eyes flared at me and his voice went low. “I can think of only one thing, Brynne.” He reached out with his fingertip and brushed down the length of my ring finger, sending a tingle up my arm. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Yes…”

“How long before we’re fucking again and I’ve got you spread underneath me about to come.”

Okay, so it turned him on a lot.

I closed my eyes and suppressed the shiver of desire that zipped through my body to pool between my legs. The Italian crystal glass of water in front of me was drained in one pass, and I no longer cared a bit about having any dessert after my dinner.

Why on earth did I agree to go out tonight?

I cleared my throat and tried to shake off the blast furnace of heat Ethan was throwing off, and attempted to get back to the conversation we were in before. “So, you were alluding to my driving a minute ago…”

He picked up my hand and rubbed with his thumb over my knuckles, his eyes telling me he would make good on his wicked thoughts just as soon as we could get back to the villa. “Yes, my beauty?”

“I—I wasn’t that bad driving.” I tilted my head. “Was I?” Ethan had indulged my request to drive us again. We were in Italy where they drove on the right side of the road, and I had enough confidence to do it here. My California driver’s license was still valid and I didn’t want to forget how to. In the four years since I’d lived in London I’d not owned a car or driven myself, mostly because of the left-handed driving situation. It was just too scary for me to attempt, and really, not necessary when public transportation was so good in the city. I’d never needed to drive in England. Plus we had a smokin’ hot BMW 650 convertible rental in midnight-blue…and I planned on using it.

“Well, no, you’re never bad at anything…” he hedged, “it’s just that driving on the right is not even slightly in my comfort zone. And I certainly don’t want you getting hurt. I’d feel much more at ease with you in a bigger vehicle with better safety features.”

“I don’t think I will ever drive in the city. Seriously, I don’t think I could ever be comfortable driving myself in London even if I live there for the rest of my life.”

He smiled thoughtfully at me, the blue of his eyes darkening to a deep midnight. “You’ll be living with me for the rest of your life, wherever that is doesn’t matter very much as long as we’re together. And you don’t have to worry about driving around London either, because it is a bloody nightmare, and I don’t want you doing it. You’ve got me to drive you.” He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed another seductive kiss to my palm. “You do know…if you want to drive, I can make that happen—”

The waiter who’d served our dinner interrupted right then with a gift from a patron at another table. A bottle of wine—a very expensive bottle of Biondi Santi, that I, sadly, would not be able to drink for a very long time. We both looked in the direction where he pointed us to a man who looked vaguely familiar to me. Tall, caramel-skinned, and very handsome, he moved with the elegance of someone who used their body as an athlete would, every movement calculated for precision, the unmistakable air of confidence exuded in every step he took toward our table.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Ethan greeted him, gesturing to the bottle, “and thank you for this. Very nicely done.” The two of them shook hands warmly.

“My pleasure,” he answered in a sophisticated British accent laced with amusement.

Ethan made the introductions. “Dillon, my wife, Brynne. And this fellow here, my darling, is Dillon Carrington.”

“How do you do, Brynne. Lovely to meet you in person. I have only seen pictures of you in the gossip rags.” He extended his hand and I offered mine. There was something very familiar about Dillon Carrington but I couldn’t put my finger on it, even though it was obvious he and Ethan were well acquainted.

“Nice to meet you as well, Dillon. Thank you for the wine. I’m sure it will be delicious, but I feel as if I’ve seen you somewhere. Have we met before?”

Dillon shook his head, laughing. “No, never. I would definitely remember meeting you, Brynne.”

“Ethan?” I looked to him for some help but he apparently was having too much fun at my expense because he only winked at me.

“You know, Dillon, it’s funny because Brynne and I were just having a conversation about teaching her to drive British, being she’s a Yank by birth.”

“Ahhh, loads of fun that is. Righty learning lefty. You want to borrow my crash suit, mate?” Dillon asked him.

Crash suit? I had no idea who this guy was but knew that I definitely should know him, especially since he knew who I was. I seriously needed to pay better attention to the gossip mags. Ethan knew a lot of famous people, and our engagement and wedding had been splashed all over British media.

“Would you like to join us? Are you on your own tonight? Ethan offered out of courtesy.

“No, no thank you. I don’t want to interrupt you, but I saw you when I came in and wanted to say hello, and give my congratulations of course. I am meeting someone in a minute, actually.”

“Ahh, right, well, I’m glad you did. We missed you at the wedding, but I know you were just a tad busy that day.”

Dillon laughed at that comment. “Yes, slightly. They had me driving ’round in circles the whole weekend. I come down here for a little R & R afterward when I can manage it.”

“Congratulations on your win. I watched the highlights and you tore it up. Brilliant performance.” I could tell Ethan was suitably impressed by whatever Dillon had won.

“Thanks. And for the sponsorship, too. I hope you got the signed gifts I had them send out.”

“Seriously, money well spent all the way ’round. Seeing Blackstone’s logo on number eighty-one was quite the defining moment for me. Truly.”

I took a stab at a guess and interrupted. “Are you a race car driver, Dillon?”

“I am in racing, yes.” He tilted his head. “I could get you driving lefty in no time, Brynne,” he answered, a charming smirk lighting up his eyes as he teased me. “You just say the word if you ever want a driving lesson.”

“Fat chance of that happening, Dillon. I believe I’ll do the honors of teaching my wife to drive British, thank you very much.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see how well you’ve come along with your lessons by the time we meet up again in October for Neil and Elaina’s wedding, because I will be checking in with Brynne,” Dillon challenged with a wink in my direction.

“Oh, you will be there?” I asked him.

“I will be.” He gave a slow nod. “Neil and I go back to our school days. Elaina’s brother, Ian, too. Good mates of mine.” Dillon looked over his shoulder in the direction of his table. “My guest is here, so I should go and leave the two of you in peace. So lovely to have met you finally, Brynne.” He bowed his head to me. “And you, Blackstone, have done very well, you lucky bastard.” He shook his head with a devilish grin.

“Astute as always, Carrington. Thanks again, for the wine, and we’ll see you up in Scotland very soon.”

Dillon gave us a wave and returned to his table, his striking looks grabbing the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant as he greeted his date, an exotic, leggy brunette with obvious enhancements of the silicone variety, staring our way quite intensely, probably annoyed at us for monopolizing her boyfriend.

“He seems nice,” I said. “He’s really famous, isn’t he?”

“Ah, yeah, slightly. You were just offered driving lessons by a Formula One World Champion, my darling.”

“Wow. He is legendary. I knew I’d seen him before, I just didn’t realize it had been on TV and at the newsstand.” I glanced over at Dillon’s table. “I don’t think his girlfriend liked him talking to us though, because she’s throwing off some pretty toxic vibes.”

“I don’t think that’s his girlfriend.” The sarcasm in Ethan’s comment was impossible to miss.

“Why do you say that?”

“Baby…” The censuring look he set on me spoke volumes. “I can say it because I know the man. Dillon Carrington doesn’t have girlfriends. He has dates.” Ethan nodded his head toward their table. “And that is a date.”

“You know this how exactly?” I persisted.

“Because I used to be just like—” He shifted in his seat and looked like he wished he could bite off his tongue. “Oh, forget it. I really don’t want to talk about Carrington’s social life on my honeymoon.”

“Me either,” I said. And I really didn’t need to know any more, because I was confident that Ethan knew exactly what he was talking about, because he’d just let slip the reason.

After all, he had been just like Dillon Carrington before he’d found me.