Wedding Night with a Stranger (10 page)

A
RIADNE
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 precarious 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.

He hesitated a moment, then to her relief made for his armchair, dropping into it and stretching out his long legs with idle ease.

Burningly aware of seeming like a craven coward, she attempted some light conversation. ‘Er…Is this your primary residence, or just a beach villa?’

Amusement tinged his expression, but he replied with solemn politeness, ‘Both. You get a better night-sky out here. Not that I’m always in residence. In recent months I’ve often needed to work so late I’ve found it easier to stay over at the office.’

‘Oh.’ She seized on the potential escape hatch and said eagerly, ‘Well, if you’d rather do that tonight, don’t you worry about me. I can look after myself.’

His brows shot up and his eyes gleamed. ‘But it’s your wedding night, Ariadne.’

She flashed him a brilliant smile. ‘I know, but, heavens, I’m not so hung up on all those old traditions. If you need to go somewhere and do things with your satellites, go right ahead.’

His brows drew together, and he said silkily, ‘There are
some
traditions that shouldn’t be ignored.’ His sexy, heavy-lidded gaze flickered over her face, and she realised she might have given away her very slight case of nerves.

A kiss, even a very hot kiss, was one thing, especially if it happened unexpectedly. A woman’s natural instincts took over. But a wedding night was something else again. Something official, formal, that required a certain poise and graceful expertise. Should she inform him she was a virgin, or would he just take it for granted? She had no idea what his attitudes were about such things, though last night he’d clearly expected her to be free and easy about sex. What if she confessed her inexperience and he laughed?

She didn’t think she could bear it if he laughed. There were some things a woman just couldn’t discuss with a man.

She felt so naive and out of her depth. And the nervier she felt, the more relaxed and idle he seemed to become. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about sex at all?

She met his dark gaze then and a major earthquake rocked her insides. A lazy, wicked smile was touching his mouth, and she was reminded of a big patient panther in the mood for play. He was thinking about it, all right.

‘Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?’ His black lashes had developed a sleepy languor. ‘Can I get you something to help you relax? Some chocolate?’

‘No. No, thanks. I—don’t need to relax.’ She got off the sofa
and started pacing about, clasping her hands in front of her. ‘Look, er, I’m not sure what you expect. I probably should explain that I’m…’ She was just winding up to expand on the difficult subject when her foot connected with something on the floor. She tripped, only just managing to maintain her balance.

‘Oh! Tsk.’ She glared down in irritation at a thick heavy book entitled
Time Drag: Was Einstein Right
? lying where some lazy person had left it by Sebastian’s armchair.

He sprang up. ‘Sorry. That shouldn’t be there.’ He picked up the book and tossed it carelessly across the room onto a large pile stacked by an empty bookshelf. The pile collapsed and books scattered, sending up a mushroom cloud of dust.

Besides the heaps of unshelved books, she noticed several paintings on the floor leaning against the wall, and a couple of packing crates he was using to prop up his stereo system. Momentarily distracted, she enquired, frowning, ‘How long since you moved in here?’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, must be three years.’ He glanced about as if for the first time, looking rueful. ‘I guess I should have…I didn’t have a chance to warn Agnes I’d be bringing you home tonight. There should be flowers. Oh, and I meant to…These ought to be shelved.’

He strolled across and gave the pile of books a desultory kick to shove them out of the way. More dust rose in the air.

‘Sorry.’ He gave an amused laugh. ‘Agnes doesn’t get time for the finer touches.’

She delved into her purse for a tissue, and held it to her face until the dust settled. ‘How many staff do you have?’

‘Just Agnes.’

‘In
this
big house?’ She arched her brows. ‘Does Agnes have cooking duties as well?’

He looked evasive. ‘Well, she has cooked, but…I don’t often eat here, anyway. I’m sure we can get her to rustle up some meals.’

She felt curious to know what sort of relationship he had with his housekeeper if he wasn’t certain he could persuade her to cook. ‘Anyway,’ she murmured, almost to herself, ‘it doesn’t matter. Really. I’m hardly going to be here long enough to notice.’

He turned and looked across at her, eyes glinting. Then he strolled back, determination in his smile. ‘We’ll see. No, no, not there, come and sit down here.’ She’d been about to relocate to the strategic safety of the other armchair, but he drew her inexorably back to the sofa, and dropped down beside her.

‘Now, what was it you wanted to chat about?’ He lounged back, angling his body to face her, one arm resting along the sofa back behind her. Absently, almost unconsciously, he began to caress her cheek with his lean, tanned fingers. ‘Was it something about your uncle and aunt?’

She felt a wary surprise. ‘What about them?’

‘Well, you seemed a little reluctant to have them at your wedding.’

‘My
convenient
wedding.’

He smiled. ‘I was surprised. I’d have thought you’d be pretty fond of them.’ The touch of his fingertips on her cheek caused a delicious tingling that radiated to her ear and down her neck.

She lowered her lashes and crushed down the jagged spike in her private family emotional register. ‘I am fond of them.’

‘Aren’t you the apple of their eyes?’

‘Perhaps. Well, I was…
Thought
I was…’ She smiled to cover the unwelcome pricking at the backs of her eyes. ‘You can be mistaken about people. Even people you think you know very well.’

He shot her a keen glance, and she had the mortified feeling her voice might have given her away. She prayed he hadn’t spotted the pathetic shimmer suddenly misting her vision. All at once she felt so weary, as if she were weighed down with all the miseries of the world. And she could feel the searchlight of his sharp intelligence probing her sad little secrets like a solar flare.