Her Husband's Christmas Bargain

by Mayo, Margaret

  ‘This is nice,’ he said, as Sibelius’s Finlandia washed over them.

  ‘Mmm.’ She began stroking his thigh, tiny movements at first but then growing bolder, reaching higher, making each stroke more intense than the last, until he jerked away.

  ‘Good God, woman, what are you trying to do to me?’

  Megan smiled, a dreamy smile. ‘Pardon? I wasn’t doing anything, just listening to the music and—’

  ‘Sending me to merry hell, you little witch.’

  ‘Was I?’ she asked with a frown. ‘I’m sorry.’ And she stood up and went back to her chair.

  ‘Are you honestly trying to tell me that you didn’t know what you were doing?’ he growled.

  ‘What was I doing?’ It was hard trying to keep a look of innocence on her face. She wanted to laugh—and she wanted to do it again. She wanted to touch him, to feel the full force of his feelings for her. But she would save that for later. For the moment she wanted to tease him, to make him want her but deny him. She was being the femme fatale. A role she had never played before but one that she knew she would enjoy.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘It felt very much as though you were trying to arouse me. Not that that would be the case, of course, considering you’ve kept me at arm’s length since Boxing Day.’

  ‘You didn’t like me sitting there?’ she asked softly. ‘It reminded me of when I was a child and I’d sometimes sit by my father while he read his newspaper. He’d absentmindedly stroke my hair like you did.’

  Dammit, he didn’t want to be a father-figure. He wanted to be her husband, her lover, her heart’s desire. He’d thought it was too good to be true when she came to sit by him. Megan wasn’t in the habit of such arousing little gestures, not these days at any rate.

  At one time, in the very early days of their marriage, she had loved to get him going. Sometimes coming up behind him and cupping her hands hard over his manhood, massaging expertly and sending him into instant readiness. Or she’d rub her breasts sensually against him, arching her body temptingly into his. She’d been everything a man could wish for—and he’d taken it all for granted!

  Never again! If at the end of these few days he could manage to win her back he’d make sure he kept her for ever.

  ‘Come here again,’ he said softly. She did so but he thought it was reluctantly, and it saddened him. What had prompted her to sit by him in the first place? he wondered. Unless it was because she was worried about Charlotte? Maybe that was it, and she needed comfort.

  This time she crossed her arms on his leg and resting her head on them, she stared into the flames licking up the chimney. ‘It’s so peaceful here,’ she said.

  ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  ‘Why don’t you buy a place like this?’

  ‘If it will make you happy, then I will.’

  ‘Not for me,’ she said at once.

  It felt like a rebuke. ‘Why would I want such a retreat for myself?’

  ‘I’m sure you could find someone to share it with.’

  ‘There’s no one I’d want except you.’ He felt a sudden tension in her as he spoke. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to insist. ‘This is perfect, Megan. You and me. We can talk. We can relax. We can do whatever we like with no fear of interruptions. A far cry from my normal hectic schedule.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’d find this perfect,’ she said. ‘You thrive on being busy.’

  It was true, he always had. It had taken the sudden jolt of finding out he had a daughter to bring him back to reality. And the discovery that he still loved his wife very much. He intended to do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t run away again.

  He hadn’t liked threatening that he would take Charlotte away from her, and he wasn’t even sure that he would have done, but at least it had done the trick. She was still here, and happy to be with him by the look of things. Unless, of course, she was simply humouring him? He prayed that she wasn’t. He couldn’t bear the thought of them spending three days together if she didn’t really want to be here. He was hoping she would share his bed. If not tonight, then for the next two nights. It might take all his powers of persuasion, but that would be half the fun.

  ‘I’m actually finding it a pleasant change,’ he admitted quietly.

  ‘For how long?’ she asked. ‘How long before you’ll be itching to get back to the hub of things?’

  ‘Oddly, I have no desire to do so. All I want is to be here with you, repairing our marriage.’ As he spoke he stroked her hair again. Such soft, sweet-smelling hair. He wanted to bury his face in it; he wanted to bury his face in her. It was hard holding himself in check, stilling the desires that rose and raged.

  Suddenly Megan lifted her face and looked at him, and in the glow from the fire he imagined that he saw love in her eyes. He was mistaken, of course, but just for a fraction of time she’d been the girl he had first met—the girl who had adored him from the start, and whom he’d loved deeply in return.

  Silently he urged her to her feet and then encouraged her to sit on his lap, all the time expecting her to refuse, gladdened and excited when she eased herself down. Finlandia had changed into Frank Sinatra and as Megan rested her head on his shoulder and the old crooner serenaded them he felt that he was another step further towards his dream.

  Poor Luigi. He didn’t know what was going to hit him, thought Megan. He hadn’t a clue that she was planning a concerted attack on his senses. He thought he had the upper hand; he thought he was the one taking the lead. He had no idea that she was in full control.

  She began by blowing gently in his ear. It was something that had always turned her on, so why not him? And then she nuzzled his ear, then nibbled it. He tasted good, and he smelled wonderful. His breathing grew a little erratic but he didn’t speak, or move, just a faint satisfied grunt in the back of his throat. As though he was waiting to see what she would do next.

  You’d better be ready for it, mister, she said beneath her breath, because this is a full-scale sex attack. Actually, though, she hadn’t quite thought about doing anything this early. She ought to at least have waited until tomorrow. ‘Gosh, I’m sorry,’ she said, drawing back. ‘I can’t think what came over me. It’s a bit like old times, I suppose, and I forgot. You must be tired with all that driving. I expect you want to go to bed?’

  ‘You mean you’re going to stop?’ he muttered thickly. ‘Just when it was getting interesting? Unless, of course, you were suggesting we both went to bed?’

  ‘I’m tired as well,’ she admitted. Liar! She was wide-awake, and so aroused that it would be many hours yet before she was able to sleep.

  ‘Then let’s go up the wooden hill.’

  ‘I didn’t mean together,’ she said, with a flash of false outrage in her eyes, getting up from his lap and glaring down at him. ‘I’ll take one of the beds down here. You can sleep upstairs.’

  Luigi stopped breathing. This wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been sure that she was prepared to sleep with him. Well, almost sure. She had given all the right signs. Then he remembered to breathe again and dragged in a deep unsteady breath and pushed himself to his feet.

  He wanted to question her. In fact he wanted to insist that she share the big bed upstairs, but a voice inside his head told him it would do no good. He had to play things her way if he wanted to get anywhere. And since she wasn’t being coldly indifferent he could afford to be patient. So long as she didn’t suggest the same arrangements every night!

  ‘Whatever you like,’ he said pleasantly, and caught a flicker in her eyes which told him that she’d been expecting him to object. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t,’ she returned, but she was smiling again. ‘Goodnight, Luigi.’ And she leaned towards him and kissed him full on the lips.

  Megan smiled to herself as she felt Luigi’s surprise, not even objecting when his arms imprisoned her and he deepened the kiss. She still planned on sleeping alone but meanwhile this could be
a very pleasant night-cap. Or a highly erotic one!

  He was probably feeling completely bewildered. One moment she was teasing him, the next declaring she was sleeping alone. That really had stunned him but he’d hidden his feelings well. Perhaps he’d learned his lesson. Realised that laying down the law got him nowhere at all. And perhaps pigs might fly! Luigi wasn’t a man to give in. He’d declared that they needed to resolve their differences by talking. And they would talk, but little did he know that her plan was to evict Serena from his mind once and for all.

  ‘Thank you for bringing me here,’ she purred, rubbing her body gently against his, and then, just as his arms were about to close even tighter, she slid away from his embrace. ‘Night, night, Luigi. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning.’

  It was the sort of thing she said to Charlotte and she could tell by his clamped lips that he was aware of it. But she put an innocent smile on her face and skipped in the direction of the bedroom. It wasn’t until she’d closed the door behind her that she realised her case was upstairs. Luigi had carried them both up earlier, evidently expecting her to sleep with him from the onset. His confidence sent a niggle of annoyance through her brain. For once she wanted to be in charge and it was infuriating to find that she was not.

  Then came a tap on her door and it gently opened. Luigi appeared with a smile on his face and her bag in his hand. ‘You forgot something.’

  The fact that he was being so cheerful and understanding incensed her even further. ‘So I did. Thank you.’ And she virtually snatched it from him.

  ‘Is there anything else that you require?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘There’s plenty of hot water if you want a shower, or there’s—’

  ‘I said I’m OK.’

  ‘I’ll say goodnight then.’ And still he stood there with that irritating smile on his lips.

  ‘Goodnight, Luigi,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘You won’t change your mind? It could get cold in the night, you know.’

  ‘If I’m cold I’ll come and crawl into your bed.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  And you’ll wait all night, she thought, as he finally closed the door. She was playing this game her way, not his.

  Amazingly, as soon as she curled up beneath the duvet Megan fell asleep and when she woke the next morning a weak sun filtered in through a crack in the curtains. For just a moment she wondered where she was, then she sprang out of bed and looked eagerly through the window.

  It had been too dark last night to see anything and now, to her delight, she saw that they were practically on the shore of a lake. Well, a hundred yards away, but that wasn’t much. She spotted a path winding down to it—and there was Luigi making his way to the water’s edge.

  He had on a thick padded jacket pulled up to his ears and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Megan wanted to join him and wished he had woken her. She skipped through to the bathroom and then back to the bedroom and was soon dressed in her warmest clothes and running along the path he had taken.

  Luigi turned and when she reached him he took her hands and looked deep into her eyes. ‘I didn’t expect you to be up this early. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Like a log. And you?’ The hormones were buzzing again.

  ‘Good,’ he answered, but there were shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there last night.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me we were this close to a lake?’ she asked enthusiastically, turning away from him and taking everything in. With a backdrop of snow-capped mountains and a panorama of green fields and trees it was stunningly beautiful. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. ‘It takes your breath away.’

  ‘I knew you’d like it.’

  ‘You must buy somewhere like this,’ she said. ‘I wish we’d brought Charlotte; she’d love it.’

  ‘And you’d feel safe with her here with this vast expanse of open water? It makes my lake look like a puddle.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she agreed. But it was so incredibly lovely that it made her want to cry.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, with an arm around her shoulder. ‘Let’s get back indoors before we freeze to death. It looks as though we might have snow.’

  There was an icy chill to the wind that she hadn’t noticed till now, and the blue sky was already being taken over by ominous grey clouds.

  Luigi kept his arm about her as they made their way to the cabin and it felt good. She even turned and gave him a peck on the cheek. Just that, nothing more, but his arm tightened and his brown eyes glowed like hot coals as he looked at her.

  Indoors, Luigi cooked their breakfast while Megan laid the table. He must have lit the fire when he first got up, she decided, as flames and sparks shot spectacularly up the chimney. It was a perfect place to be; she couldn’t have chosen anywhere better for her seduction of Luigi.

  She sauntered through to the kitchen and stood in the doorway watching him deftly breaking eggs into the pan. ‘You’ve become quite an expert,’ she said lightly.

  ‘It was either that after you left, or pile the weight on by eating out all the time.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you with even an ounce of extra fat,’ she said, deliberately allowing her eyes to roam over the whole length of him. He wore a sky-blue polo shirt and close-fitting navy trousers that showed off his slim hips and taut behind, making her senses shudder into life. ‘You’ve always had a superb body. And you certainly have none now. Did you stop exercising as well?’ He’d been a gym fanatic at one time.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ he admitted. ‘Work took precedence. But—’

  ‘But not any longer. I hope that’s what you were going to say?’ she suggested archly.

  ‘Why would I want to work twenty-four seven when I have the most gorgeous wife in the world?’

  Why would you want to bed another woman if that were true? Megan formed the question but didn’t ask it. She had such faith in this holiday that it would break her heart if it didn’t work. ‘If you keep saying things like that, and meaning them, then I think that perhaps we might have a future.’ She kept her eyes steady on his as she spoke, unaware that they were shiny bright and she was projecting an image of a woman falling in love again with her husband.

  His smile was warm and all enveloping and Megan felt her breasts go taut beneath her lilac lambswool top, especially when his gaze dropped. It was one of her favourite sweaters and she had teamed it with a pair of wide-legged aubergine trousers. Luigi clearly approved because he couldn’t take his eyes away from her, until the eggs gave a loud splutter and he turned just in time to rescue them.

  ‘Perhaps I’d better move,’ she said with a light laugh, ‘or we’ll be having burnt offerings for breakfast.’

  ‘Perhaps I’d better kiss this ravishing wife of mine,’ he said, moving the pan off the heat and closing the space between them. ‘You look a million dollars this morning, did you know that? The fresh air has brought an extra glow to your cheeks. You look wonderful.’

  The fact that he was taking the initiative when she had planned to do the leading every step of the way escaped Megan for the moment. She wanted this kiss, needed it like a person dying of thirst, and her lips parted of their own free will. Every pulse throbbed, blood coursed hotly through her veins and she couldn’t stop herself leaning into him, feeling the same strident pounding inside Luigi as well.

  ‘I think,’ he said gruffly, ‘that we should forget about breakfast.’

  So did she, but it wasn’t part of her agenda. Sanity had flickered briefly into her brain, telling her what she must do. She gave the smile of an angel and pushed her hands against his chest. The unsteady throb of his heart against her palm felt like his life-blood pulsing into her, but she bravely ignored it. ‘Not on your life, I’m starving.’ And she turned away from him.

  She felt his shock and her lips twisted in amusement as she made her way towards the table. Not that she wasn’t feeling deprived; that was an understatement. But s
he liked these little tasters of what was to come, and she prayed that Luigi liked them too.

  There was silence in the kitchen for a few moments, before he spurred himself into action again. Megan sorely wanted to see his expression but knew that she dared not look round. Instead she sat down and poured them both a glass of orange juice, her back deliberately towards the door.

  ‘Here we are.’ He set down the coffee and teapots, a rack of toast, and finally her breakfast plate. It both looked and smelled delicious. Nicely crisp bacon, sausages, tomatoes, egg, fried bread. The perfect Full English Breakfast. It would be a miracle though if she ate it all.

  She was hungry—she hadn’t been lying when she said she was starving—but for one thing she didn’t usually eat this much, and for another her hunger was turning into hunger for Luigi and not food. She was almost afraid to look at him now because she didn’t want her feelings to be so blatantly obvious.

  ‘I thought you were hungry,’ he said, when she made no attempt to start.

  ‘I am.’ She eventually looked at him and saw not desire, as she’d expected, and which she knew would trigger off her own rampant mood, but concern.

  ‘Perhaps I should feed you.’ He cut a slice off his sausage and, picking it up with his fingers, he offered it to her.

  With her eyes on his, Megan leaned slightly forward and opened her mouth. When he popped it in she felt the warm rasp of his fingers against her lips and she had an urge to suck them into her mouth too. But already he had moved and was preparing another morsel.

  A tiny square of toasted bread this time, topped with golden egg. He was enjoying the game, feeding himself a mouthful in between times, until Megan took the initiative and began to feed him her breakfast in exactly the same manner.

  It was the most erotic game they’d ever played, especially when fingers and food became intermingled, or when his eyes darkened with desperate need as she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips to collect any remaining crumbs.