late now, she had married the man, and for Nicholas’ sake she was going to have to live with him, but not here in his bed. She leapt off the bed, her frantic gaze flying around the room. She had to live with him, but she did not have to sleep with him. He had said they had to consummate the marriage. My God! He had certainly done that, but she wasn’t hanging around for a repeat performance.
Finally finding her nightshirt on the floor, she picked it up and pulled it over her trembling body. Nicholas’ room was free, she would spend the rest of the night there, and find a room of her own in the morning. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she turned towards the door.
With all the arrogant confidence of a very self-satisfied man, Leon wrapped a towel around his hips and sauntered back into the bedroom. Not only did he have Nicholas, a true Aristides, an heir to inherit his fortune, it was a pleasurable bonus to have the lovely Helen as his wife. He looked at the bed, the empty bed, and his pleasure turned to cold anger in an instant.
He glanced across the room. She was almost at the door, her glorious hair falling in a tumbled mass of waves halfway down her slender back. ‘Going somewhere?’ he demanded, striding towards her, and he saw her shoulders stiffen as she slowly turned to face him. Her violet eyes that had looked at him with such awe not long ago now sparkled with defiance.
‘Yes, I am going to find a room of my own.’
‘This is your room,’ he stated angrily, not appreciating her rebellion. She had to know her place was in his bed, and he reached for her shoulders, his eyes raking over her. The cotton shirt was shapeless and ended mid calf. But it was the pattern that really caught his attention and diffused his anger somewhat. For a man accustomed to his ladies dressed in the finest silks and satins it was a real shock.
‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked incredulously. Two ridiculous teddy bears danced across her chest.
Helen hoped it was the picture holding his attention and not her breasts, but much to her shame she could do nothing about the sudden swelling in those same breasts. Leon with a slip of a towel slung around his lean hips was a breathtaking sight to any female between the ages of eight and eighty, she thought, and much to her chagrin she was no exception.
‘It’s my doubly-cuddly nightshirt,’ she blurted. The air between them was fraught with tension and she dragged in a slightly unsteady breath before continuing. ‘Nicholas likes it, he named it, and anyway it has nothing to do with you what I wear.’
‘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 he felt.
‘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.
