The Australian's Marriage Demand

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  The study smelt musty but she managed to suppress her reactive sneeze long enough to look around.

  The shelves along three walls were floor to ceiling and each of them was lined with books. A leather-top desk was in front of the window and the maroon velvet curtains were heavily faded with tiny holes in the aged fabric letting pinholes of sunlight through. Dust motes rose in the air each time either of them moved but Jasmine hardly noticed. Her attention was on the gold-embossed spines of the books on the shelves before her at eye level, some of the higher ones looking even more impressive.

  She sucked in a breath of excitement.

  ‘This is amazing.’ Her eyes shone as she reached out and touched a first edition of a children’s book from the turn of the last century.

  She turned to face him.

  ‘Some of these books are priceless, do you realise that?’

  He studied the excitement on her face for a long moment as if committing it to memory.

  ‘I’m sure one or two will prove to be so.’

  She would have frowned at his strange reply but the books were all she could think about at present. She turned back and, with fingers almost reverent, reached out and touched the spines at her level.

  ‘I wish I’d known these books were here all this time.’

  ‘Why?’ Connor’s voice sounded from somewhere behind her.

  She didn’t turn around but kept looking at the titles in front of her.

  ‘I love old books. I love the smell of the pages and the thought of generations of people reading the same words time and time again.’ She turned to frown at him. ‘But why didn’t the previous owner take them when they left?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he answered as he made his way to the door. ‘I’ll leave you to have a play while I make some inroads on dinner.’

  She turned back to look at him.

  ‘You don’t mind if I stay here a while?’

  He shook his head. ‘Go right ahead. The closest I get to reading is the sports page in The Herald,’ he confessed with a wry grin.

  Of course she didn’t believe him. How else would he have known the value of the books he’d led her to? But he closed the door before she could respond and she was left alone with a crowd of aged titles and a host of memories as she reached for the book nearest her.

  He found her curled up on the cracked chesterfield an hour and a half later, her chestnut head buried in an early edition of Constance Mackness’s Di-Double-Di.

  ‘Good book?’

  She looked up and smiled; the first genuine smile he’d seen on her beautiful face.

  ‘Yes, I love this old book.’

  He sat on the sofa beside her and peered over her shoulder at the book she had in her lap.

  ‘What’s it about?’

  She closed the book, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

  ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘Tell me.’

  ‘It’s about two girls at boarding school who find a gap in the fence through to an adjoining property.’

  ‘A girls’ own adventure?’ he guessed.

  ‘Yes, you could call it that.’

  ‘Happy ending?’

  She nodded. ‘Very happy.’

  His eyes held hers for a fraction longer than necessary.

  ‘Dinner is just about ready, if you’re hungry.’

  She gave him a guilty glance. ‘I should be helping you with the cooking.’

  ‘No problem. I enjoy it really; my housekeeper, Maria, has taught me a thing or two over the years.’ He got to his feet and stretched.

  Jasmine’s eyes were instantly drawn to the ridged muscles of his abdomen that his close-fitting T-shirt revealed. His body was magnificent in every way possible—toned, tanned, taut, tall and devastatingly handsome, his firm mouth with its fuller bottom lip promising mind-blowing passion…

  She tore her eyes away and got to her feet, barely registering the soft thud of the book as it slid to the floor at her feet.

  ‘Connor, I…’

  ‘Yes?’ His tall body stood motionless, his eyes dark mysterious pools of some indefinable emotion as he looked down at her.

  The intensity of his gaze made her hesitate. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth momentarily.

  ‘What did you want to tell me, Jasmine?’ he probed gently.

  At the last minute she decided she couldn’t do it. She’d wanted to tell him of her shifting feelings about him but when push came to shove the words just wouldn’t come. She just couldn’t allow herself to beg for a few crumbs of affection when what she really wanted was the whole package. She wanted him to love her. She wanted him to feel the same stomach-jerking pangs she felt every time she looked at him.

  She stared at him blankly for a long minute before bending to pick up the book from the floor.

  ‘Nothing.’ She dusted off its fragile cover with a gentle brush of her hand. ‘It was nothing important.’

  Connor didn’t press her, which made her feel grateful at a time when she wanted to distance herself in every way possible. He made her feel vulnerable and exposed as she wasn’t used to someone being close enough to see through the mask she wore to cover her inner loneliness.

  He held the door for her and she slipped past him with her head down, not stopping until she came to the kitchen, conscious of his heavy tread behind her every step of the way.

  Connor suggested they eat in the dining room, where he’d laid two places on one end of the long table. Jasmine took her seat as he dished up the veal and tomato casserole he’d prepared earlier, the deft movements of his hands reminding her all over again of what it felt like to have those hands on her, exploring her intimate contours, drawing from her a response she could still feel in her innermost body…

  ‘Would you like some wine?’ He poised the bottle near her glass.

  Her eyes connected with his, her face instantly heating when she recalled how the wine had made her act so out of character the evening before.

  ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, if you don’t mind,’ she answered after the tiniest pause.

  ‘Shame.’ He filled his own glass and she was left to speculate on what exactly he meant by that one word delivered so dryly.

  ‘This is very good,’ she said after tasting the meal.

  ‘Thank you.’ He picked up his glass and took a sip.

  Jasmine ate the meal in front of her more for something to do other than feast her eyes on his features all the time like some sort of lovesick schoolgirl. She took her time over every mouthful, stringing out the process so as to avoid making conversation.

  Connor had finished his meal and, sipping his wine, watched her as she cut the last few morsels into the tiniest pieces, chewing them slowly, almost exaggeratedly.

  He put his glass down and, leaning his elbows on the table in front of him, gave her a knowing smile.

  ‘You find my company disturbing, don’t you?’

  She hoped her expression was suitably guileless as she looked across at him.

  ‘Not at all.’

  He raised a brow as he reached for his wine once more.

  ‘What is it that threatens you the most?’ he asked after a little pause.

  She put her knife and fork down and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin to stall her reply.

  ‘I don’t find you threatening. I find you annoying.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you push me too far.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In every way.’

  ‘Be more specific.’ He leant back in his chair, one arm slung casually over the back.

  Jasmine pursed her lips before responding.

  ‘You don’t respect my personal space, for one thing.’

  ‘You mean I come too close?’

  ‘Far too close.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘You don’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘I take it if I see it,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked.
r />   He ran a finger around the lip of his glass, his eyes never once leaving hers.

  ‘You might say no with your mouth but your body says yes every time.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘What about last night?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You wanted me as much as I wanted you. You spent most of the day saying no but when it came down to the crunch your body decided for you.’

  ‘Last night was a mistake,’ she said quickly, her colour high.

  ‘It probably appeases your sense of propriety to see it that way, but I prefer to see it as two people who have a chemistry thing happening which they responded to instinctively.’

  ‘You make it sound as if we had no choice in the matter.’

  ‘We didn’t,’ he said. ‘What happened was meant to happen.’

  ‘Only because you were determined to make it happen.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he protested. ‘I wasn’t going to push you into something you weren’t ready to do. I waited until you made the first move.’

  ‘Define the first move.’ Her tone was cynical. ‘What did I do? Look at you for more than fifteen seconds or something?’

  He smiled. ‘You really won’t admit it, will you?’

  ‘Admit what?’ She scowled at him.

  ‘That you wanted me.’

  ‘I did not want you. You took advantage of the situation.’

  He picked up his glass and took a contemplative sip.

  ‘You’re not being honest with me or yourself. Why is it so hard for you to admit what you actually feel?’

  ‘Damn it, Connor!’ she almost shouted at him. ‘You make me feel things I don’t want to feel!’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She bit her lip. ‘I feel nothing.’

  ‘Tell me what you feel, Jasmine.’

  Her fingers around her glass tightened agitatedly.

  ‘I…I feel like…like someone else.’

  ‘When you’re with me?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m usually so in control, so neat, so tidy, everything in its place, you know?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But when I’m with you I feel…I feel…’ She paused, searching for the right words.

  ‘What do you feel, Jasmine?’

  ‘I feel…out of control,’ she confessed at last, lifting her eyes to his.

  ‘Control is important to you, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  She toyed with her glass distractedly.

  ‘I don’t like unpredictability. I like to know what’s going on so I can be prepared. I don’t feel like that around you. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know how to prepare myself.’

  ‘You don’t need to prepare yourself at all,’ he said gently. ‘Just be yourself.’

  ‘I don’t know how to be myself any more.’

  ‘Because of what happened with Roy Holden?’

  She lifted her eyes to his briefly.

  ‘That… And other things.’

  ‘What other things?’

  She lowered her gaze. ‘Things I don’t want to talk about.’

  She bit her lip, trying not to give in to the threatening tears. She felt his hand reach out to touch her on her arm, the warmth of his palm seeping through her cold, stiff flesh, making it suddenly come alive with the pulse of blood. She lifted her gaze to find him looking at her, his expression serious but encouraging.

  ‘Why don’t you go and relax in the sitting room while I clear up here? I’ll bring in some coffee shortly.’

  She gave him a grateful half-smile and left the table, glad of an opportunity to gather her crumbling demeanour away from his all-seeing eyes.

  Connor had laid a fire earlier and it was crackling merrily as she went into the room, its golden glow welcoming in spite of the aged furnishings and décor.

  She deliberately avoided thinking about what the room had witnessed the night before and sat on the sofa and leafed through an old National Geographic magazine while she waited for him to join her.

  He came in a few minutes later with freshly brewed coffee and two mugs on a tray, setting them down in front of her on the old coffee table.

  ‘How do you have it?’ he asked.

  ‘Straight black,’ she answered and took the mug from him, cradling her cold fingers around its warmth.

  She sipped the hot liquid and watched as he stirred two teaspoons of sugar in his own along with a generous splash of milk. He caught her eyes on him and gave a rueful smile.

  ‘I know it’s bad for the teeth, but so far so good.’

  She couldn’t argue with him over that; his straight, even teeth were the whitest she’d ever seen.

  Connor allowed a little silence to settle between them. He sat back and drank his coffee, his eyes on the fire in the fireplace, his long legs stretched out before him, his feet crossed at the ankles.

  Jasmine was sitting within touching distance and just knowing she could reach out with her fingers and stroke her hand along his firm thigh suddenly made it all the more tempting to do so.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She’d been determined that the physical intimacy they’d shared was not to be repeated, for several reasons. Firstly she didn’t want to complicate things between them, and secondly she wanted to be able to walk away with her pride intact when the time came. She couldn’t imagine him staying married to anyone very long, least of all to her.

  She sat on her hands to stop them from betraying her, but her movement caused him to look at her which somehow made things a whole lot worse. His dark eyes bored into her grey-blue ones, pinning her to the spot.

  She ran her tongue over her dry lips in a nervous action that shifted his gaze to the fullness of her mouth. His face was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard and she wanted to rasp her fingertips across the lean jaw, linger beside his mouth where his skin creased slightly whenever he smiled his bone-melting smile. She wanted to trace the fullness of his lower lip, run her fingertip down the length of his patrician nose and back up to his dark eyes, those eyes that sent shivers of anticipation down her spine each and every time they rested on her.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed as his head came towards her, her shoulders relaxing as his mouth pressed hers once in a kiss as soft as the brush of a feather.

  He leant back and she opened her eyes, giving his features a searching look.

  He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind one of her ears, the tiny movement sending an arc of feeling straight to the hollowness of her belly.

  She wanted him to kiss her again, properly. She wondered he didn’t see it in her eyes and the slight lean of her body towards him.

  ‘Connor…’ She breathed his name.

  His hand cupped the side of her face, holding her gaze to his.

  ‘Jasmine, I want you right now.’

  ‘I know.’ The thought thrilled her even as it terrified her.

  He got to his feet and, taking her hand, pulled her up to stand before him. She could feel the warmth of his body emanating towards her, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame. She knew ultimately she was going to get hurt but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She needed him, wanted him and to hell with the consequences—she was going to have him.

  He led her upstairs, neither of them speaking. It was as if a silent agreement had passed between them, neither of them wanting to speak in case it changed the atmosphere of heightened physical awareness.

  He laid her on the old bed and she sank into the soft mattress, her bones melting as his dark eyes ran over her, lingering over her breasts, dipping to where her womanhood was secretly pulsing in anticipation of his invasion.

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Her stomach gave a funny little flip-flop when his hands went to his belt, the unclipping of the buckle the only sound in the room apart from her racing pulse which she was sure must be audible to him.

  He stepped out of his trousers and his shoes thudded to the f
loor as he came towards her, his eyes pinning her to the bed as surely as any bondage.

  His fingers were gentle in their task to remove her clothes, so gentle she grew impatient and, brushing away his hand, she tore at them, wriggling out of them unashamedly.

  He came down beside her on one knee, his hand stroking along her thigh, gradually going higher until his palm cupped her face once more. He lowered his mouth to hers in a lingering kiss, so leisurely she grew impatient. She nipped at his bottom lip and he suddenly stilled, his eyes growing darker as he looked down at her.

  ‘I detect a tinge of impatience here.’ His voice was a soft rumble against her breasts.

  ‘I want you, Connor.’ Her eyes held his without shame. ‘Not tomorrow, not next week, but now.’

  ‘Now it is.’

  He reached for a condom and deftly positioned it before coming back over her, his thighs nudging hers apart.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked, searching her face for a sign of a change of mind. ‘I don’t want you to beat me over the head with this tomorrow when rationality returns.’

  ‘I promise I won’t.’

  ‘I’m tempted—’ he gave her body an intimate nudge ‘— but then, as I think about it—’

  She grasped at him with clawing fingers.

  ‘Connor, if you don’t make love to me right this instant I’ll call the press and tell them you’re a lousy husband.’

  He grinned down at her wickedly.

  ‘I just love it when you beg.’

  She would have said something but his body surged forward into her waiting warmth and all thoughts were immediately driven from her head. His groan of pleasure as her muscles enclosed him was like music to her ears, the weight of his body over hers a delight, the heat of his mouth a salve to her pride, knowing he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  When his kiss deepened so too did his body in hers, driving her to a new level of feeling. Gone was the delicate brush of yesterday’s tentative fingers. In their place were the ravenous hands of heightened desire, grabbing at their prize with greedy, insatiable fingers.

  Jasmine almost screamed with the pleasure his lips and tongue called out of her. She was on fire, great leaping flames of desire licking at her flesh like a whip, scalding her until she could bear it no more. She wanted release but it was just out of reach. She had to climb and climb, but he kept her dangling until she was almost sobbing with her need.