by Anna Cleary
She’d always dreamed her husband would be someone she knew very well, someone who understood her and loved her, even so. With a grimace she realised that so far neither of her potential bridegrooms had fitted the profile.
She chose one of the little suits she’d had made in the Rue du Fauborg St Honoré for her intended honeymoon with Demetri. It was cream with the palest of pink and blue threads running through it, and thin edgings of cream lace at the cuffs and lapels. It cinched in at the waist and buttoned at her breast, with a hint of cleavage just visible. She’d never worn it, so it wasn’t as tainted as some of the clothes she’d discarded from her trousseau.
This wasn’t a wedding in the true sense but, even so, she wanted to look pretty. She wound her hair into a loose bun and threaded a blue ribbon through it.
When Sebastian arrived, for the first few moments she felt quite overwhelmed. He’d gone to so much trouble, she was momentarily speechless. He looked so handsome and austere in a beautifully tailored black three-piece suit, elegant white shirt and white silk tie with a silver stripe, like a genuine bridegroom. Somehow, though, the fine clothes only made her more aware of the raw animal man confined inside.
He swept her with a hot shimmering gaze that sent a wild surge through her veins.
When she’d collected herself, she said, ‘You look gor—Very wedding-i-fied.’
Amusement gleamed in his eyes, but there was a searing sensual intensity in them that told her clearly what was uppermost in his mind. When he spoke his voice deepened.
‘Likewise.’
Her nerves jumped. Maybe it was her imagination, but the air seemed rife with sexual vibrations. He bent to kiss her, and his sexy lips missed her mouth and just brushed her cheek. Even so her senses spun into dizzy overload.
He took her bags and piled them into the boot of his car, then held the door for her. ‘Ready?’
As they swept out of the drive of the Park Hyatt into the maze of city streets she felt a moment of deep insecurity. She hardly knew him. What had she let herself in for?
After only a few twists and turns through the heavy traffic—hair-raising to someone used to driving on the other side of the road—he swerved into the kerb and parked. He hustled her out of the car and onto the street, and she was faced with the façade of the jewellery boutique she’d braved that morning.
She gulped. ‘Oh. Are we going in there?’
‘We need to pick up our rings. Come on,’ he said, shepherding her relentlessly through the doors. ‘They’re expecting us.’
She reminded herself she was wearing different clothes. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognise her. Once inside the glossy interior, she glanced about at the sales people, then tried to nudge Sebastian in the direction of one she hadn’t dealt with in her morning visit.
The attempt was useless, because the manager of the boutique caught sight of them and came out of his office, rubbing his hands. He greeted Sebastian warmly, and looked keenly at her as if she reminded him of someone. To her intense relief, he mentioned nothing about their previous encounter.
Several trays of rings were placed before them. Sebastian was more careful and discerning than she’d expected, considering they were in a hurry. She was so anxious to escape from the shop she’d have agreed to anything, but they managed at last to find beautiful, plain bands in matching rose gold, Sebastian’s heavy and solid, hers finer and more delicate.
The manager suggested they have them inscribed, and surprisingly Sebastian was keen to go to the trouble. There was a small discussion, and in the end it was decided to have their initials entwined, along with the date and the word ‘Eternity’. She prickled with impatience, desperate not to wait the few extra minutes it would take.
‘What about your engagement ring, though?’ Sebastian said, advancing on a display case bright with diamonds. ‘You should have one of these.’
‘Is that really necessary?’ she exclaimed.
He gave her a firm look. ‘Absolutely, though on second thoughts…No, I think a sapphire. What do you think?’ He smiled, the glow of desire in his gaze. ‘Could there be a sapphire to match those eyes?’ Before she could reply he turned to a hovering sales assistant. ‘Sapphires. Do you mind?’
It was the same man she’d dealt with in the morning.
‘By all means,’ he said with an oily smile. He unlocked a cabinet and laid a tray of blue brilliants before them on the counter. ‘Felicitations, Miss Giorgias. Oh, and…er…did you manage to find a satisfactory broker for your bracelet?’
Sebastian’s surprised gaze swivelled around to examine her face, and she felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. ‘No, no…well, yes…sort of, thank you,’ she mumbled.
‘Very fine stones,’ the assistant murmured. ‘Very fine indeed. Sorry we couldn’t…er…accommodate you.’
The bland apology came too late, and at the worst possible time. She participated in the selection of an exquisite sapphire ring set in diamonds with her brain only half engaged. The other half was busy worrying about Sebastian having been alerted to her desperate situation.
She escaped from the shop, shards of blue fire flashing from her finger. It was a fine stone, and had cost no mean price for a temporary arrangement. She felt guilty at causing Sebastian such expense, and hoped he could afford it. But at least now he would be able to benefit from her uncle’s deal.
He returned to the car and tossed the package into her lap. He turned to scan her face with his acute dark gaze, but didn’t question her about the sapphires. She might have been imagining it, but he seemed extra silent and thoughtful for the rest of the journey.
After that everything took place at high speed. It was only a brief journey to the home of the wedding celebrant, where Sebastian’s lawyer, Tony, and a woman from his office he introduced as Jenny, were waiting in a small courtyard at the front.
‘Witnesses,’ Sebastian explained.
The men shook hands, and Tony and Jenny kissed Ariadne, just as if she were a real bride. It was just a marriage of convenience, she kept reminding herself. She had made that clear, hadn’t she?
They were about to ring the doorbell when Sebastian made a small exclamation and hurried back to the car. He returned with a bouquet of pink and white roses, fragrant with white stars of jasmine and orange blossom.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Hold this.’
While Ariadne clutched it, he nipped off a rosebud and tried to thread it through his buttonhole, his sculpted, masculine lips pursed in concentration. Everyone watched while he struggled. Eventually he stuck it in place at a slightly crazy angle. No one else offered to fix it, and in the end Ariadne was forced to give the bouquet to Jenny and fix it herself.
She stepped close to him, searingly conscious of the thinness of the layers of clothes between her breasts and his bare chest, the seductive shadow on his smooth-shaven jaw. As she performed the intimate little task before the interested onlookers, she felt his sensual gaze on her face, and knew she was going pink.
‘There,’ she said, risking meeting his eyes for a soul-scorching instant. He might have kissed her then, but he didn’t. He was thinking of it though, she knew with a sudden certainty. Thinking of that, and the time after the ceremony when she would be his legal wife.
The celebrant, a middle-aged woman with a pleasant face, greeted them and ushered them all through the house to the garden in the rear.
The small party stood on a smooth velvet lawn in the rays of the setting sun. The hill sloped down to the sea, but Ariadne hardly registered the beauty of the surroundings. The entire event had taken on a surreal quality.
Sebastian was quiet, his face grave, but every time their eyes met his held a dark, possessive gleam that reached into her in some deeply stirring, primeval way she’d never experienced before with a man.
She was in such a haze she was hardly aware of the words of the ceremony. ‘I, Ariadne Sarah Christiana…’ she said at one stage. Then there was the moment when Sebastian slid the ring on her f
inger and promised to love and honour her. The look in his eyes was so intent, so serious, she felt a thrilled clench in her chest.
The celebrant pronounced them man and wife. There was a pause, while all held their breaths. Or it might have been that she was holding hers. Then Sebastian tilted up her face and kissed her. It was a gentle brushing of lips to begin with, then he subtly deepened the pressure. Her senses swayed as she felt him move a hand to her ribs and another to the small of her back.
A slow, sly flame licked through her lower abdomen. Her knees turned to water, and she melted into him, just as she had the night before.
In the nick of time Sebastian broke the kiss before it grew too intense to draw away from. Even so, that licking flame had infected her blood and she was left breathless, and just the slightest bit intoxicated. She became aware then of cameras flashing, someone throwing rice and confetti, and the dark triumphant gleam in Sebastian’s eyes before his lashes flickered down to screen his gaze.
The wedding feast was in a private room at a restaurant, where toasts were drunk and course after course was placed before her, including a glistening slice of chocolate cherry torte. Tony and Jenny, strangers a few short hours since, were friendly and open and funny, and warmer to her by the minute, though she sensed the slight distance between Jenny and Sebastian that went with boss-employee relationships. Jenny was quite wary of him, Ariadne realised. Perhaps he was an exacting boss.
There was no dancing, no joyous bouzouki and loving celebratory family, but a chance to laugh with some new-found friends soothed her wounded heart and gave her worries some much-needed relief.
Added to that, seething somewhere inside her was a deep vein of excitement, a fever that grew in her blood every time her eyes fell on Sebastian’s hands, or the lean, sinewy wrists bound by his elegant cuffs. Eventually the laughter and conversation reached a point when he said, ‘Come, my sweet. I think it’s time we left, and allowed Tony and Jenny to get on with their evenings.’
My sweet. That was what men called their wives. Their lovers. His gaze captured hers across the candle flame. He was smiling, his midnight satin eyes aglow with a dark sensual fire.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ARIADNE stood before the front door of a cliff-side villa with a giant telescope on its roof, while her husband slid a key into the lock. Her legal husband.
During the feast, carried along by the atmosphere, she’d looked forward to being alone with Sebastian, but, now she was, misgivings had set in. How married were they? And how much of a wife would he expect her to be? The situation was so tenuous. Once she had her inheritance she would be on her way.
On the other hand, there had been something quite definite about that ceremony they’d been through. From his point of view, she supposed he’d carried out his side of the bargain. Her turn now, some inner voice prodded.
He opened the door and looked down at her with that fire in his eyes. ‘Welcome home,’ he murmured, slipping his arm around her waist.
Even smiling, his mouth looked so firm and capable. Capable of delivering ecstasy, she thought with a plunge in her insides.
His possessive hand on her ribs actually felt pleasant. He was in such a buoyant mood she wondered if she should remind him their marriage was only temporary.
‘Thanks.’ She drew in a breath. ‘Do you…do you have a fax machine?’
His brows shot up, then came down again rather hard. ‘Can’t you worry about that tomorrow?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Right now’s the best time. Thio will be reading his messages now.’
‘To hell with Thio,’ he said forcefully. ‘This is our wedding night.’
Without any warning he lifted her off her feet and into his arms, laughing at her shocked cry. Pressed against the wall of his chest, her sensitive flesh fairly tingled with electrical impulses. Even the sensation of his jaw grazing her forehead was distinctly pleasurable.
He carried her inside, pausing at some point to touch a switch with his elbow. Lamps came on in all directions.
As he strode with her through the house she got a confused impression of large airy rooms with high ceilings and wide windows, which revealed glimpses of the cliffs undulating around the shoreline, peppered with twinkling lights. He swept her up a flight of stairs, down a wide hall and through double doors into a huge bedroom, and halted there, holding her in his arms a second longer, his eyes agleam with triumph. His glance flicked to the bed, and for a nerve-racked second she thought he was going to toss her into the middle of it. She braced in readiness, then he checked the impulse, lightly kissing her lips before planting her on her feet on the rug instead.
‘Just relax,’ he commanded, his deep voice rich with satisfaction. ‘I’ll be back.’
Relax! She gazed around the alien space, intimate with another person’s occupation. A male person’s. The room had an extremely masculine feel, with solid, hard-edged furniture. On either side of some French doors, windows reached to the floor, with soft filmy white curtains adrift on the breeze while heavier dark red satin ones were bunched back. But what dominated the room was a large bed, luxuriously attired in rich dark red fabrics.
It had big snowy pillows, heaped to look inviting. And it was inviting. Its insidious message would have enticed even the wariest virgin to dive in, roll on its plush covers and wallow in its springy embrace.
Maybe it was just her, but that bed seemed to glow and vibrate and command attention. She noticed a black satin dressing robe draped over the end, and the large masculine slippers neatly aligned on the floor beside it. Someone had placed them there with care.
Sebastian returned with her suitcase and set it down inside one of several doors leading off from the bedroom. She followed him and saw it was an unoccupied dressing room with long glass mirrors. Adjacent to it was a rather sumptuous bathroom, also unoccupied.
‘Oh. Is there—another bedroom through here?’
He undid his silvery tie, his eyes shimmering, then slipped it off and dropped it on the floor.
‘Several, but ours is the only one fit for occupation.’ A lazy, amused smile played on his mouth. ‘No need to worry.’ His voice grew husky as he took her wrists and ran his hands up her arms, sending thrills through her nerve endings. ‘I think you’ll find everything in this room more than adequate for your needs.’
Her skin cells seemed to have developed a will of their own. They were loving his touch through the jacket sleeves, were tuned into it one hundred per cent. Unfortunately, she needed to get some things clear in her head before things zoomed out of control.
He lifted his lean hands to cradle her face, but before he could press his lips to hers she seized his wrists to still them, and slipped from his grasp.
‘I think we need to sit down and have a good chat,’ she said, her voice rather higher-pitched than usual.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and examined his bride. Though deliciously flushed from the champagne and the excitement, while she was clearly attempting to preserve her poise, her eyes were conveying a dark uncertainty.
He felt a pang of misgiving. Last night’s choking moments after the kiss were etched into his soul, moments he would prefer never to revisit. The charge that he’d taken advantage of her had cut deep. For God’s sake, he was hardly a wild animal. He was aware that a civilised man didn’t ravish a tender woman at the first opportunity. And if she was as inexperienced as he suspected, it was only natural she’d be feeling a few nerves. Still, it was their wedding night, and anxiety should never be unnecessarily prolonged.
‘Of course,’ he said politely, bracing for the challenge. He stood back a little to give her some space. ‘Are you—nervous about anything?’
Her chin came up. ‘Nervous? I should say not. I just—just need to be clear about things.’
Ariadne saw determination settle into the lines of his chiselled mouth, and she was reminded of last night when she’d refused to have dinner with him. During the day she’d been so worried about her precario
us situation, then so relieved to think she’d solved it, she hadn’t had enough time to crystallise a plan.
Everything had happened so fast. But now that the moment had arrived, whatever her primal instincts had earlier been whispering, she had a conscience. A celebrant wasn’t a priest. A garden wasn’t a church. And despite the certificate Sebastian had slipped into the inner pocket of his jacket, their reasons for being married had very shaky foundations.
Looked at in the cold light of objectivity, a financial contract between virtual strangers was hardly an excuse for making love. Although, did she really need to look at the situation in the cold light of objectivity?
As she met Sebastian’s speculative gaze, even thinking the words making love cast her insides into a swirling hot chaos. She wasn’t exactly tipsy, but she wished she hadn’t joined in quite so many of the toasts and could weigh the moral issues with more clarity.
Before he decided to pounce, she backed from the room, then turned and found her way rather quickly down the stairs and into a large sitting room.
Despite her inner upheaval, she couldn’t help noticing that the house looked a little dishevelled. There was potential there though, in its high ceilings and harmonious lines. The sitting room was handsome enough, with pleasing antiques and several graceful lampshades casting warm pools of light, but the elegant, capacious sofa and the cushions on the comfortable-looking armchairs all looked as if they could do with a good plumping up.
She could tell which was Sebastian’s favourite chair because his imprint was squashed into the cushions, and there was a space in the dust on the beautiful old coffee table between the laptop and numerous coffee mugs where two large male feet might comfortably rest.
The room had a neglected sort of comfort, as if someone with taste had started moving in, then been waylaid. She made for the safety of the sofa, hesitated, then gave the seat cushions a wipe before risking her suit.
Sebastian strolled in behind her with leisurely, confident calm, and at once her eyes zeroed in on the unmistakable fact that he’d taken off his jacket and waistcoat. In his shirtsleeves it was easy to see his lean angularity and the powerful outline of his shoulders.
