her skin.
‘It doesn’t matter—at least, not right now,’ he said, his mouth twisting into a grim line. ‘What an impetuous fool I was to have taken you to bed!’
‘Then why don’t you do us both a favour and get out of it right now?’
She wasn’t expecting him to take her at her word, but he did—pushing back the bedclothes with an impatient hand and moving away from the bed as if it were contaminated. But the impact of seeing him unselfconsciously naked as he walked across the room was utterly compelling and Amber couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away. He went to stand by the window and all she could see was his magnificent physique, silhouetted against the gleaming moon and scattered stars. And all she could think about was how pale his buttocks looked against the deep tawny colour of his back. How it had felt to have the rough power of his muscular legs entwined with her own, which had felt so light and smooth in comparison.
Only he had made her feel bad about what had happened—and bad about herself. As if she were using her virginity as some kind of bargaining tool. As if she were nothing but a cold-blooded manipulator.
So why did she still want him, despite his wounding words? Why did she want to feel his lips on her lips and his hands on her hips as he positioned himself over her, before thrusting deep inside her? Maybe she was one of those women who were only turned on by men who were cruel to them, just like her mother.
She licked her dry lips. ‘Are you going now?’ she croaked, because surely it would hurt less if he was gone.
He turned back to face her and at once she could see that he was aroused and, although she tried not to react, something in her face must have given away her thoughts because he gave a cold, hard smile.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said ruefully. ‘I still want you, be in no doubt about that. Only this time I’m not going to be stupid enough to do anything about it.’ Grabbing his clothes, he started pulling them on until he was standing in the now-creased suit he’d worn to the party.
‘I’m going to bed,’ he continued. ‘I need to sleep on this and decide what needs to be done. I’ll have breakfast sent up here tomorrow morning and then drive you back to London. Make sure you’re ready to leave at eight.’
Amber shook her head. ‘I don’t want to drive back to London with you,’ she said. ‘I’ll get the train, like I did before.’
‘It’s not a subject which is open for negotiation, Amber. You and I need to talk, but not now. Not like this.’
She lay there wide-eyed after he’d gone, hugging her arms around her chest. And although she went to the bathroom to shower his scent from her skin, it wasn’t so easy to erase him from her memory and her night was spent fitfully tossing and turning.
She was up and dressed early next morning, telling herself she wasn’t hungry but it seemed her body had other ideas. She devoured grapefruit, eggs and toast with an appetite which was uncharacteristically hearty, before going downstairs to find Conall waiting outside for her with his car engine running.
She tried not to look at him as she climbed beside him and she kept communication brief, but he didn’t object to her silence and said very little on the journey back to London. She stared out of the window and thought about yesterday and how green the lush countryside had seemed—and how today it seemed like a once-bright balloon from which all the air had escaped.
He drove her straight to her apartment and as he turned off the engine she couldn’t resist a swipe.
‘Here we are—home at last,’ she said with bright sarcasm. ‘Though not for much longer, of course, because soon my big, bad landlord will be kicking me out onto the streets.’
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about,’ he said, pushing open his door.
‘You’re not planning on coming in?’
‘No, not planning,’ he said grimly. ‘I am coming in. And there’s no need to look so horrified, Amber—I’m not going to jump on you the moment we get inside.’
Oddly enough, his assurance provided Amber with little comfort. Was it possible that one episode of sex had been enough to kill his desire for her for ever? Because the man who had been so hot and hungry for her last night was deliberately keeping his distance from her this morning.
She waited until they were inside and then she turned to him, noticing the dark shadows around his eyes. As if he had slept as badly as her. ‘So. What’s the verdict?’
His mouth was unsmiling and his voice was heavy. ‘I think we should get married.’
Amber blinked in astonishment and, even though she knew it was insane, she couldn’t quite suppress the flicker of hope which had started dancing at the edges of her heart. She pictured clouds of confetti and a lacy dress, and a rugged face bending down to kiss her. She swallowed. ‘You do?’
‘Yes.’ Navy eyes narrowed. ‘I know it’s far from ideal but it seems the only sensible solution.’
‘I think I need to sit down,’ said Amber faintly, sinking onto one of the white leather sofas beneath the penetrating brilliance of his gaze. And now that her heart had stopped pounding with a hope she realised was stupid, she tried to claw back a little dignity. ‘Whatever gave you that idea that I would want to marry you?’
His gaze burned into her. ‘Didn’t it enter your mind for a moment that giving me your virginity would trouble my conscience? I feel a responsibility towards you—’
‘Then don’t—’
‘You don’t understand,’ he interrupted savagely. ‘I have betrayed the trust of your father by taking advantage of you.’ His voice hardened. ‘And trust is a very big deal to me.’
‘He won’t know. Nobody will know.’
‘I will know,’ he said grimly. ‘And the only way I can see of legitimising what has just happened is to make you my temporary wife.’
She stared at him defiantly. ‘So you want to marry me just to make yourself feel better?’
‘Not entirely. It would have certain advantages for you, too.’
She opened her mouth and knew she shouldn’t say what she was about to say—but why not? He’d seen her naked, hadn’t he? He’d been deep inside her body in a way that nobody else had ever been. He’d heard her cry out her pleasure with that broken kind of joy as she’d wrapped her legs around his back. What did she have to lose? ‘What, like sex?’
But he shook his head, his hair glinting blue-black in the watery spring sunshine. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Most emphatically not sex. I don’t want the complications of that. This will purely be a marriage of convenience—a short-lived affair with a planned ending.’
She screwed up her eyes, trying not to react. One brief sexual encounter and already he’d had enough of her? ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, desperately trying to hide the hurt she felt at his rejection.
He walked over to the window and stared out at the view for a moment before turning back to face her. ‘Your father wanted you to stand on your own two feet—and as a wealthy divorcee you’ll be able to do exactly that.’
‘A
