Page 96 of The Time for Love
At her command, with ready acquiescence, he put aside all thought and let instinct guide him.
If she was all his, he was all hers, and at that moment, nothing else mattered.
* * *
Later, with her body, mind, and senses awash in the glow of aftermath, Sophy lay curled against Martin’s side and listened to their slowing hearts, listened as their breathing gradually returned to normal.
Several minutes later, she breathed in, then out. Then whispered, “I was wrong. I’m still thinking.”
He huffed wryly. “So am I.” After a moment, he went on, “But from where I lie…”
When he said nothing else, she prompted, “What can you see?”
He exhaled, his chest falling, his big body growing more relaxed. “I’ve been weighing up the chances of Blackwell feeling compelled to retaliate against us—against you or me personally or against the steelworks.”
“And?”
“And I can’t see him wasting the time and effort on what should, by then, feature to him as a lost cause.” He paused, then added, “If years from now, a chance arises to harm us business-wise, I would fully expect him to seize it, assuming the action posed no threat to his own endeavors. But if our plans play out as we hope, then tomorrow or the day after? No. Despite his reputation, if I’ve read him correctly, I can’t see him acting spitefully and maliciously purely in order to be spiteful and malicious—to pay us back with no real benefit, reputational or otherwise, to him.”
He sighed, then angled his head to look down and meet her eyes. “So much of our plan hinges on me having read him aright. I pray I’ve interpreted the signs correctly—that although Blackwell is, indeed, a villain through and through and has clawed his way up in truly villainous fashion, he’s stepped away from being ‘just a villain’ and has ambitions to be more.”
“That’s what you meant about his coat.”
He nodded. “It’s part of his costume in transforming himself into the businessman he wants to be and, even more importantly, that he wants others to see him as.” After a moment, he added, “Blackwell wants to move into the world you and I inhabit. He’s inching into the fringes, but he only has a toehold as yet. In essence, I’m wagering everything on him not wanting to surrender his hard-won gains for any petty retaliation. If his determination to better himself has got him this far, I’m hoping that commitment to his own cause will compel him to rein in any impulse to lash out, now or in the future.”
“Regardless”—she shifted against him, getting more comfortable—“we need to do as we’ve planned. We need to stop him in his tracks and convince him to pull back from Sheffield. It’s the only way forward for us and, indeed, the entire town.”
He glanced at her again; she felt his gaze rove her face. “That’s the true nature of the threat Blackwell poses. If his plans go ahead, they will ruin the bright future you and I can see not just for us but for everyone who lives here.”
“And that’s why we”—she patted his warm chest—“are going to be even wilier than he, and with the help of all those who answer our call, we’ll see him comprehensively routed.”
She tipped back her head and met his eyes, letting her determination and assurance shine.
Martin drank both in and felt her conviction resonate inside him.
He still wasn’t one hundred percent certain their plan would succeed, but with her by his side, so fierce and resolute, they were as best placed as they could be to pull off the tricky, rather delicate stratagem.
They just had to manage it without any missteps.
Like walking a tightrope.
He looked into her face for a moment more, then raised his head and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Sleep,” he whispered.
He let his head fall back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and felt her curl and settle against him.
Satiation spread through him, golden and deep, and he felt his lips curve in a silly smile.
The last of the day’s tension flowed away, and sleep came rolling in.
CHAPTER16
Seated at the middle of one of the long sides of the boardroom table at Carmichael Steelworks, Sophy fought to calm her nerves. On her left, Edward fidgeted nervously, while Charlie, in the chair to her right, stared tensely across the table at the closed door that led to the outer office.
She glanced over her right shoulder. Martin was lounging against the paneled wall and was effortlessly projecting the image of a relaxed and untroubled aristocratic gentleman. She assumed it was a façade and he was nowhere near as unconcerned as he appeared, but there was no way she could tell.
He was stationed in that position, two steps from her and the table, supposedly to underscore that he held no shares in the company and was therefore not involved in the matter at hand, but in reality, he was there to partially conceal and draw the eye from the door to the adjoining anteroom, which was fractionally ajar.
Perfectly groomed and dressed in a suit of restrained elegance, he was admirably suited to the task of capturing and fixing any gaze that wandered in that direction.
