Aristide's Convenient Wife

by Jaqeuline Baird

  ‘Maybe not, though your exquisite body deserves the finest silk and satin,’ he opined as his hands tightened on her shoulders and he drew her closer, his dark eyes gleaming with such blatant sexuality it made her heart leap in her breast. ‘But it has everything to do with me where you sleep, and that is in my bed.’

  She lowered her lashes over her too-revealing eyes. She could barely look at him without blushing. ‘No, thank you,’ she said with all the cool she could muster. ‘I want my own room.’

  An amused smile played around his firm mouth. ‘So polite, but that is not possible, Helen, and anyway all your clothes are here. Surely you would not want to upset Anna by demanding she move them from our suite after one night,’ he prompted mockingly.

  She didn’t appreciate the mention of Anna or his amusement. She glanced at the rumpled bed. Obviously what had just happened there was one big laugh to him, whereas to her it was the scene of her downfall and totally humiliating.

  ‘There is no “our” suite,’ she snapped. He was so damned arrogant, nothing dented his massive male ego, and she continued defiantly, ‘I’ll apologise to Anna for the inconvenience tomorrow, but I am not staying here with you.’

  ‘You don’t have a choice.’ His mouth tightened, his great body tensed, and all trace of humour vanished. ‘You’re my wife and your place is in my bed.’ His eyes narrowed on her flushed, mutinous face. ‘Don’t try my patience. I have told you before, I don’t like women who play games.’

  Her face grew hot with renewed humiliation and fury. ‘I am not playing a game,’ she lashed back. ‘You said we had to consummate the marriage—well, we have. And I have no desire to repeat the exercise.’

  One eyebrow rose with derisive scorn. ‘Oh, but you do.’ And a hand left one shoulder to curve around her waist and draw her hard against him. ‘And if you were honest you would admit that it is that desire that has you running scared.’

  The contact with his big muscular body sent the blood pounding through Helen’s veins. She looked up at his ruggedly attractive face. His dark eyes held a wealth of intimate, sensual knowledge that shamed and excited her, but also infuriated her beyond words.

  ‘No,’ she cried. ‘I hated it. I hate you,’ she flung angrily and twisted furiously against his steel-like grip, but to no avail.

  His lips twisted in a humourless smile. ‘You don’t know me well enough to hate me. That may come later—one never knows with women,’ he said dryly, his hand snaking up her back, pressing her to him from chest to thigh. ‘But what you hate now is the fact that it was I who showed you what a rampant little sensualist you are, and you hate yourself for enjoying sex with someone you don’t know very well.’

  Her eyes glittered with angry resentment. ‘That is not true; you deceived me—you behaved like an animal.’

  ‘A male animal you thoroughly enjoyed and I have the marks to prove it,’ he stated with undisguised satisfaction.

  Helen blushed scarlet and lowered her lashes to disguise her vulnerability from his discerning gaze. But she could not refute it.

  Lifting a hand, he cupped her chin. ‘Don’t let it bother you, Helen, I enjoyed receiving every one. I enjoyed you.’ His thumb brushed her jaw line and the fullness of her bottom lip. ‘Your problem is you enjoyed me but do not want to admit the fact.’

  ‘No.’ Her eyes glittered in angry rejection. ‘I was shocked—you caught me by surprise.’ And his husky chuckle did nothing for her overstretched nerves. The musky male scent of him tantalised her and the pressure of his hard body against her own overheated flesh made her tremble.

  ‘You certainly surprised me. I could never have imagined a beautiful woman of your age would still be a virgin. Which leads me to believe that rather naively you have been labouring under the popular female illusion that some day you would fall in love and live happily ever after? Tonight was your first time and, while your body wantonly delighted in the experience, your untried emotions received a shock perfectly natural under the circumstances. I’ll give you that.’ His hand burrowed through her hair and he tilted her head up to his. ‘You made the discovery that love, not that I believe it exists,’ he drawled with cynical humour, ‘is not a prerequisite for great sex, and your childish illusions are shattered.’

  Her eyes blazed angrily. ‘At least I had some, but you are an unfeeling, insensitive oaf.’ That he was right about her did not make her feel any better, but the fact he didn’t believe in love did not surprise her at all.

  ‘Insensitive maybe, unfeeling never,’ he drawled. His hand stroked caressingly down her spine to press her into the hard strength of his thighs, so she could be in no doubt of exactly how hefelt.

  ‘As for taking you by surprise—’ his smile was decidedly feral as he tilted her head back ‘—well, this time, my sweet wife, I am giving you fair warning. I am going to kiss you.’

  Dark eyes merciless in their intent burned into hers. Helen wanted to look away, to break the spellbinding power of his sexuality. ‘No, please.’ But as his arm tightened around her all her traitorous body wanted was to surrender once again to the powerful virile strength of his.

  She made a weak attempt to struggle free. But his dark head bent and his mouth covered hers, his tongue delving between her parted lips with a devastatingly skilful passion that plunged her straight back into the same state of sensual overload as before.

  Her arms of their own volition wrapped around his neck. Her fingers sought the thickness of his hair, raking her fingers through its silken length with sensuous delight. She fell into his kiss like a starving woman, oblivious to everything except the man holding her, kissing her. Spinning in a whirlpool of pure pleasure over which she had no control.

  ‘Is that please yes?’ Leon husked against her mouth, sweeping her up in his arms.

  Helen groaned her agreement. The first time she had felt fear, but not now. Now she was burning up with a hunger she knew only Leon could satisfy.

  And when he laid her down on the bed her glittering eyes were bold as they roamed over his magnificent body. Bronzed and sleek-muscled, his skin gleamed satin in the soft light, and when she looked into his eyes the molten desire in the inky depths blinded her to everything in the world but him.

  Leon stared down at her, fighting with his conscience, but her soft, pouting mouth, her wide, inviting eyes, and the firm outline of her rigid nipples against the cotton were too tempting to resist. In one deft move he removed her shirt and gathered her into his arms, his hands moving urgently over her silken flesh. He bent his head to kiss and lick each taut nipple before returning to take her mouth with his own.

  Eventually taking everything.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HELEN LAY CURLEDup in a ball in the big bed, as far away from her indomitable husband as she could get. The even sound of Leon’s breathing told her he was deeply asleep.

  But sleep would not come for Helen; shame and humiliation burnt through her aching body at the thought of what she had allowed to happen.

  How could she have been so weak willed? How could she have been so wanton? Kissing, touching, scratching.

  How could her body have betrayed her so totally, not once, but twice?

  Quite easily, she groaned the answer and buried her head in the pillow. She had been seduced by an expert.

  The first time she had been swept away in a torrent of un-dreamed of pleasure as he had kissed and tasted every inch of her. Sweeping away all her virginal fears with a skill and mastery that had overwhelmed her. And when he had finally surged inside her the fierce pain had been obliterated in moments by stroke after stroke of ever-growing torturous pleasure. She had clung to him greedily, her legs locked around his waist as with all his power he had possessed her utterly, the hard strength of him filling and pulsing inside her. Until mindlessly she had cried out as her body convulsed around him in an explosion of emotion so extreme the boundaries of her self were absorbed by his.

  Squirming, Helen tried to blank the memory of her second spectacul
ar downfall from her mind. If anything her behaviour had been even worse. Boldly she had caressed and touched him, exploring him with the same intimate detail he had devoted to her. Until finally all that mattered had been the two throbbing, sweat-slicked bodies, touching, tasting, in an orgy of ever-increasing wild abandon that had culminated in a mutually explosive climax.

  She heard Leon groan, and tensed, her fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. She didn’t want him to wake up.

  Because, painful as it was for her to admit it, for some inexplicable reason she was fast becoming incapable of resisting the man, and it could not go on. She was wise enough to know that way lay only heartache. Leon Aristides was the most autocratic, cynical man she had ever met, verging on misogynistic if his comments on the female sex were to be believed, and certainly not the sort of man to fall in love with.

  Closing her eyes tight, she silently vowed to herself she would never let her arrogant husband touch her again. Tomorrow she was going to speak to Anna, and have her own room whatever Leon said, and on that thought she fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Helen blinked and yawned widely, the distant sound of a door closing echoing in her head. She rolled over onto her back, and stretched, her body aching in unfamiliar places. Then she remembered, her eyes flew wide open and for a moment the sunlight streaming into the room dazzled her.

  ‘Good morning, madam.’

  Blinking again, her eyes focused on Anna standing by the bed, a laden breakfast tray in her hands,

  ‘The master said to let you rest, but it is almost twelve and I thought you might like coffee and a little snack.’

  ‘Twelve?’ Helen squeaked and sat up in bed, her eyes straying to the indentation on the pillows next to hers. He had gone, thank heaven. Then suddenly realising she was naked, she grasped the coverlet and pulled it up under her arms, before turning a scarlet face to Anna again. ‘I am sorry for oversleeping and thank you, Anna.’ She took the tray from her outstretched arms. ‘I certainly need something,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Like a brain transplant.’

  ‘Now, madam, no need to hurry, the master has gone to collect Nicholas and they won’t be back for a while. You take your time, pamper yourself.’ Anna surprised Helen by smiling broadly at her.

  ‘And may I say, madam, I have known Master Leon since he was an eight year old, and I was first employed as his nanny. I have watched him grow into the man he is today, and I can honestly say I have never seen him look happier than he was this morning. For that I thank you. The man deserves a little happiness in his life. His mother was a difficult woman and rarely cared for him and as for his first wife…’ Anna frowned. ‘Still, I suppose you already know all about her and I should not waste your time gossiping. But anything you want you only have to ask.’ And with another smile she left.

  I wonder if that includes a separate bedroom, Helen mused darkly as she drank the coffee and ate the dainty little pastries provided. Somehow she thought not.

  Her worried gaze strayed to the other side of the rumpled bed, and she was vividly reminded of last night, reminded of Leon’s great golden body over her, in her, taking her yet again as the light of dawn filled the room. And placing the tray on the bedside table, she jumped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  She turned on the shower and stood beneath the soothing spray, trying to wash the haunting memories of last night from her mind, and determined to avoid any repeat.

  Thirty minutes later with her hair dried she studied her own reflection in the mirrored wall. She looked different; her lips were still slightly swollen from Leon’s kisses. Red blotches marred the pale skin of her breasts and lower over her stomach, testimony to her husband’s passion.

  She spun away from the mirror and quickly dressed. She didn’t want to think about his passion; she didn’t want to think about him, full stop. Donning a pair of blue jeans and a crisp lemon shirt, she brushed her hair back. She slipped her feet into soft flats, and ventured out of the bedroom.

  Rather gingerly Helen walked down the marble staircase. She was sore in a way and in places she had never been before and it was all Leon’s fault.

  And there he was standing at the bottom of the stairs like a replay of yesterday, only this time he was casually dressed in a cream wool sweater and dark trousers and Nicholas was at his side rather than hers.

  ‘Uncle Leon said we had to let you rest,’ Nicholas chirped up, and Helen turned scarlet and her new husband smiled, and today the smile did reach his knowing eyes, and made her blush even more.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Helen murmured, reaching the bottom of the stairs and giving Nicholas a big hug. ‘Now tell me all about your night away.’

  Nicholas duly obliged while Anna served lunch and Helen’s tension eased somewhat. Afterwards Leon, much to her surprise, insisted on taking Nicholas upstairs for his nap and promised to play football with the boy later, while Anna gave Helen a guided tour of the house.

  The eight bedrooms and five reception rooms impressed Helen but she could not help thinking it was a bit soulless. Immaculate with high ornate ceilings, brilliant frescos and marble floors, and the furniture to match it was perfect. A little too perfect, a typical stiff-necked banker’s abode.

  But she did take the opportunity to confide in Anna that she was an illustrator and ask her if she could have a room for a study, preferably not too far from Nicholas’ room, because she usually worked when he was asleep. Anna quite happily obliged and showed her to a bedroom, along the corridor from Nicholas’. When Anna went downstairs Helen swiftly unpacked her portable easel and sketch books and removed some essential items of clothing from the master suite. She didn’t care what Leon thought. She was having her own room.

  Surprisingly the rest of the day was quite fun. She joined Nicholas and Leon in the garden; after yesterday’s rain it was pleasant to be outdoors in the sunshine. She was cajoled into playing a game of football, and burst out laughing when her usually imposing husband fell over the ball in his haste to take it off her and sprawled at her feet. Nicholas immediately jumped on his back and demanded he pretend to be a horse and give him a ride.

  There was something very satisfying in seeing Leon on his knees. ‘Ride him, cowboy,’ Helen shouted encouragement.

  But when Nicholas tired of the game, Leon slanted a wicked look up at her.

  ‘Your turn, Helen,’ and glancing at Nicholas he added, ‘What do you think—should I give Helen a ride?’

  ‘Yes. Yes,’ Nicholas shouted, his little face wreathed in smiles.

  ‘No, you should not,’ Helen declared, blushing scarlet at the sexual connotation that flew right over the child’s head. But she was secretly pleased at how well they all got along. Leon looked almost boyish and more relaxed than she had ever seen him when Nicholas was around, which was a good sign for the family she hoped they could eventually become. Turning her back on the laughing duo, she flung over her shoulder, ‘And now I think it is time for tea.’

  ‘Sorry, Nicholas, Helen thinks she is too old to play.’

  She heard his mocking comment and spun back round to find him grinning down at her.

  ‘Old,moi? ’ she exclaimed, her violet eyes sparkling with humour. ‘You have some nerve at your age.’ She saw his dark eyes flash a warning, and, turning, she sprinted for the house with both Nicholas and Leon chasing her.

  Bath time was a joint venture and when Nicholas was finally in bed Leon left to return some business calls and Helen stayed to read him a story.

  When she walked into the dining room two hours later, Helen immediately sensed the easygoing atmosphere of the afternoon had gone. If it had ever existed except in her mind. Leon wearing a black shirt with a button down collar and black trousers, was standing by the drinks cabinet, a glass in his hand, a brooding expression on his hard face. Casually dressed, he looked incredibly attractive and nothing like a banker, more of a bandit, Helen thought fancifully.

  She frowned. His shirt was probably tailor-made by Turnbull and Asse
r and his trousers similarly designer-labelled. He could afford the best that money could buy, so why wouldn’t he look amazing? she told herself, determined to deny her growing attraction for the man.

  Leon saw her frown, his own expression one of cool indifference, but inside he was anything but indifferent. For a man who prided himself on his rigid self-discipline it was disturbing to realise he had absolutely no control over the instant reaction of his body. Not since he was a teenager had he felt anything so urgent, if then, and it bothered him.

  She was wearing a soft blue wraparound dress that emphasised her tiny waist and moulded her hips and thighs like a second skin. Her legs were covered in silk stockings and on her feet she was wearing high-heeled navy shoes. Her long fair hair was piled up on top of her head in a loose knot, a few stray tendrils framing her small face. She looked exquisite and elegant and she had surprised him again.