never knew you could be so romantic,’ said Camilla, only half joking, as she sat down. Their previous romantic nights had often been interrupted by at least six of Nat’s society friends turning up ‘unexpectedly’.
‘I aim to please,’ said Nat, going into the kitchen to fetch a casserole pot and two dishes of steaming vegetables.
‘I feel like a bloody waiter,’ he grumbled as he placed the food on the table, pushing away a lock of brown hair that had flopped over his face. ‘Still, I didn’t want that housekeeper hanging around too long,’ he said, pulling a bottle of Krug from out of a snow-filled ice bucket. ‘Happy birthday, darling.’
They sat for a few minutes, eating in silence. ‘I love the pot-au-feu,’ said Camilla, scooping up some of the rich stew with a forkful of buttered carrots.
‘And I love you,’ said Nat quietly, his head bowed slightly over his glass.
Camilla’s fork froze in midair. In their eighteen months together, Nat had never once said ‘I love you’. He’d skirted round the words, usually when drunk and, if she was totally honest with herself, it had never been an issue. Camilla hated the sort of women who constantly sought reassurance with declarations of love from their partners. She herself had never wanted to appear so weak, dependent or desperate.
She took a small breath, taken aback by his words. ‘You love me?’ she repeated, as if it was some kind of alien concept. She was smiling now, almost mocking him, but Nat ploughed on with uncharacteristic fervour.
‘You’re so good for me,’ he said, putting down his knife and fork to look directly at her, the dimple in his chin becoming more pronounced. ‘My family loves you; my colleagues love you.’
He picked up the bottle of Krug and poured himself another glass, wiping his hand across his lip nervously.
‘I know I can be a bit crazy sometimes, but that’s the job and the pressure …’
Camilla started to play with a chunk of meat nervously.
‘But you calm me down. You make me want to settle down. I’m thirty-four, for Chrissake. I can’t go running around like some ageing playboy for ever.’
Now it was Camilla’s turn to take a huge glug of wine as her female intuition told her this conversation was going somewhere she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted it to go.
‘Do you know why I brought you here?’ asked Nat, fixing his gaze on hers through the candlelight.
‘Fondue? A few black runs?’ replied Camilla, laughing nervously.
‘Marry me,’ he said matter-of-factly.
A thick silence rang around the room. Camilla felt her breathing become deep and uneven. She was used to thinking on her feet, arguing, debating on the hoof in court. But at this second she was utterly lost for words. She felt a little nausea in the pit of her belly.
‘Marry you?’ she said with a small smile, stalling for time.
Nat got up and came over to her. He didn’t quite drop to one knee but perched on the edge of the chair and pulled out a claret-coloured Garrard box from his pocket. He flipped it open to reveal an enormous marquise-cut pink diamond that twinkled yellow and lilac in the soft light.
‘We’re good together,’ he said.
She looked at him.
Was he being sincere? Did he really love her? She grimaced. What was love anyway?
But Nathaniel Montague was a good catch, she thought, composing herself.
Or was he? He was wild and careless, but he was rich, successful, important.
Her father liked him. Not that that mattered, she reasoned, immediately putting the thought out of her mind. And being with Nat got her noticed. It wasn’t just Serena who desired the eyes of the crowd on her. She just didn’t know, she agonized, digging her fingers into her thighs.
Nat picked up her left hand and, placing it on the knee of his jeans, pulled the ring out of its box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand.
‘Does it feel good?’ he asked softly, lulling her with his voice.
She nodded. It did feel good. Heavy and secure.
Nat pulled her to her feet, taking her in his arms and running his hands down her bare back. God, he was sexy.
‘Say yes,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘Yes,’ she responded suddenly, willing herself to relax and be taken by the moment.
‘You’ve made my day,’ he murmured into her neck, pushing the fabric of her dress off her shoulder with a deft movement of his chin.
‘Are you wearing my present?’ he breathed, moving his hand down towards the cleft of her ass. For one moment, Camilla wondered what he could mean, then, remembering the crotchless panties, she started to smile, a rush of power shooting through her like a drug.
‘Actually no,’ she said but, feeling suddenly brave and sexy, she looked at him seductively. ‘Would you like me to?’
Nat took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. The bedroom was in soft darkness, lit only by the moon in a black sky.
‘Put them on,’ said Nat, pointing to the skimpy underwear lying on the bed.
He sat back in a biscuit leather armchair in the corner of the room and watched as Camilla slowly peeled off her dress. She turned around, slipped her La Perla thong down her long legs and stepped into the crotchless knickers.
‘Keep the shoes on,’ drawled Nat, his eyes fixed on her glowing body, shining like a beautiful marble statue in the moonlight.
She slipped the five-inch Jimmy Choo heels back on and stood facing him, on the one hand feeling a little awkward about the sheer sexiness of what she was doing, on the other hand feeling a powerful sense of womanliness as she could see Nat getting visibly aroused.
‘Stand up,’ she purred, holding out her hand.
Nat stood slowly, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. Camilla pulled at his belt and popped opened his Levis, pulling them down along with his boxer shorts. Standing naked together, the same height in her towering heels, Nat took two fingers and pushed them between her legs, quickly finding the gaping hole in the mesh fabric and stroking her slowly there. Camilla groaned and arched her back. As she did so, Nat took one nipple between his lips, biting on it gently. Clasped tightly against each other, they moved towards the fireplace, Camilla taking small, backwards steps as she breathed in his ear, ‘Now, please. Take me.’
Their bodies glowed in the flames from the fireplace. He lowered her onto the fur rug, kissing her all over her face, then slowly moving his mouth down her body, gripping the elastic waistband of her panties with his teeth and pulling them down with one sharp tug. Uncovering her small, tidy pubic growth, he burrowed his face into it, probing his tongue in and out of her and bringing moans of pleasure.
‘Now, please,’ begged Camilla as his hips hovered over her, his throbbing cock waiting to penetrate her. He slid himself slowly into her, lifting her back off the sheepskin so the two rocked together, each thrust going deeper and deeper until she saw his face crease in pleasure and felt his body spasm in release. ‘Fucking incredible,’ he breathed, rolling off Camilla onto the fur rug. Camilla was naked except for the huge diamond. She couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at it twinkling in the firelight.
‘Eight carats,’ he nodded, stroking the ring. ‘Do you know how expensive these pink diamonds are?’ he said, looking up at her to impress the point.
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘And it’s going to be a big, beautiful year for the two of us.’
Suddenly Camilla felt the cold and pulled a cashmere throw around her to cover her body.
‘A big year in