point it did her no good and she didn’t have the emotional energy to spare.
She held up a hand to stop him and cursed at how it trembled. She put it back down and tucked it into her gown, blinking as she realized she was still in her sexy, lacy lingerie that she’d so painstakingly picked out for her wedding night.
Unbidden tears welled again in her eyes as she realized just what a disaster her wedding night had been. What should have been the most special night of her entire life would forever be a black hole in her past no matter what happened in the future.
“I agree,” she said before he could launch into another list of her shortcomings.
He promptly shut his mouth and then stared at her, his brows drawn together in confusion. “You do?”
She nodded again because the words seemed to stick in her throat. Almost as if they were rebelling. It took her a few moments to force out what she wanted to say.
“You’re absolutely right. I was being silly. I had unrealistic expectations and I shouldn’t allow them to get in the way of marriage.”
He winced but remained quiet.
“I am agreeable to at least a period of time in which we see how things progress.”
He frowned at that but she looked up with dead eyes. “Be glad I’m not on a plane home with an appointment to see a divorce lawyer.”
He pushed out a breath and then slowly nodded. “All right. How long do you think this test period will last?”
She shrugged. “How would I know? I can’t exactly put a time frame on when I can give up all hope of having a happy marriage.”
“Ash.”
The low growl in which he said her name only served to make her angrier. She curled her fingers into tight balls, determined not to give in to the urge to scream at him. She was determined to get through this, no matter how excruciating it was.
“I’m not trying to punish you, Devon. I’m trying to get through this without losing what little pride I have left.”
He went pale and pain flickered in his eyes. And shame. Though that hadn’t been her intention, either. She wasn’t trying to make digs at him because that wouldn’t make this go away. It wouldn’t give her back her happiness. It would only make her more miserable than she already was.
“You seem to think we can have an enjoyable marriage. I personally find no joy in being married to a man who doesn’t love me, but I’m willing to try. You’re probably right in that I shouldn’t allow something so silly as love to enter the equation.”
“Damn it, I care a lot for you—”
“Please,” she bit out, halting his words in midsentence. “Just don’t. Don’t try to make it better by offering me platitudes. It was hard to hear your assessment of my faults. Does anyone ever like to hear that about themselves? But I’m willing to work on not being so impulsive and exuberant or whatever else it was that you mentioned. I’ll try to be the best wife I can be and not disappoint you.”
He bit out a sharp curse but she ignored him and plunged ahead before she lost all her courage and fled.
“I just have one thing to ask in return,” she whispered.
She was trying valiantly not to break down again. She’d already made such an idiot of herself in front of him. She was forever making a total cake of herself with him.
His lips were thin. His eyes were dark with raw emotion. At least he wasn’t totally unaffected by her distress.
“I find the situation I’m in immensely humiliating. I’ll make every effort to be a wife you’ll be proud of. All I ask is that you please not embarrass me in front of my family by making our issues known to anyone. What I’m asking you to do is pretend. At least with them.”
“God, Ash. You act as though I despise you. I’d never embarrass you.”
“I just don’t want them to know you don’t love me,” she choked out. “If you could just act like—like a real husband in front of them. You don’t have to go overboard. Just don’t treat me with indifference now that you don’t have to pretend in order to get me to marry you anymore.”
And then another thought occurred to her that very nearly had her leaning over to empty the contents of her stomach.
“Are you all right?” Devon asked sharply. Then he swore. “Of course you aren’t all right. You look as if you’re going to be ill.”
“Is there someone else?” she croaked out. “I mean did you ever plan to be faithful? I won’t stay married to you if you’re going to sleep around or if you have a mistress on tap somewhere.”
This time the curses were more colorful and they didn’t stop for several long seconds. He closed the distance between them, knelt down in front of the lounger she was curled up in and grasped her shoulders.
“Stop it, Ashley. You’re torturing yourself needlessly. There is no other woman. There won’t be another woman. I take my marriage vows very seriously. I don’t have a mistress. There’s been no other woman since well before you entered the picture. I have no desire to sleep around. I want you.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief and she leaned away from him so that his hands slipped from her arms.
“Damn it, I wanted to tell you the truth from the very beginning but your father wouldn’t hear of it. My mistake. I should have told you anyway. But it doesn’t change anything. I still want to be married to you. If I found the idea so abhorrent, I’d simply wait until the deal was done and begin divorce proceedings. There wouldn’t be a damn thing your father could do at that point.”
She closed her eyes wearily and rubbed at her head. The sun’s steady creep over the horizon was casting more light onto the terrace and each ray speared her eyeballs like a flaming pitchfork.
“Do you have one of your headaches?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Did you bring your medicine?”
She opened her eyes again, wincing as she tried to refocus. “I want to go home.”
Devon’s expression darkened. “Don’t be unreasonable. What you need is to take your medicine and get some sleep. You’ll feel better once you rest and eat something.”
“I won’t stay here and pretend. It’s pointless. You even brought me to the island where you’re building a resort, I’m sure so you could keep up with the progress. So don’t tell me I’m being unreasonable for wanting to dispense with the fairy-tale honeymoon. You and I both know at this point it’s a joke and we’ll just spend all week staring awkwardly at each other or you’ll just spend most of the time at the job site.”
His jaw ticked and he stood again, turning briefly away. Then he turned back, irritation evident in his gaze. “You wanted me to pretend in front of your family. Why can’t you pretend now?”
“Because I’m miserable and it’s going to take me a little time to get over this,” she snapped. “Look, we can say I wasn’t feeling well. Or you can make up some business emergency. It’s not as if anyone in my capitalistic family would even lift an eyebrow at the idea of business coming first. Right now my head hurts so damn bad, we wouldn’t even be lying.”
Some of the anger left Devon’s gaze. “Let me get you some medication for your headache. Then I want you to get some rest. If…” He sighed. “If you still want to leave when you wake up, I’ll arrange our flight back to New York.”
Eleven
She slept because the pill Devon gave her would allow her to do no less. She rarely resorted to taking the medication prescribed for her migraines for the reason that it made her insensible.
When she awoke, she was in bed by herself and it was nearly dusk. Her headache still hung on with tenacious claws and when she moved too suddenly to try to sit up, nausea welled in her stomach. Her head pounded and she put a hand to her forehead, sucking air through her nostrils to control the sudden wash of weakness.
The room was blanketed in darkness, the drapes drawn and no lights had been left on. Devon had made sure she had been left in comfort, only a sheet covering her and the air-conditioning turned down so it was nearly frigid
in the room.
Before, his consideration would have been endearing. Now, she could only assume he was operating out of guilt.
She pushed herself from the bed and sat on the edge for a moment, holding her head while she got her bearings. After a moment, she got to her feet and wobbled unsteadily toward the luggage stand, where her still-packed suitcase lay open.
She ripped off the silky gown she’d so excitedly donned the night before and tossed it in the nearby garbage can. If she never saw it again, it would be too soon.
She dug through the suitcase, bypassing the chic outfits, the swimwear and the other sexy nightwear she’d purchased, and pulled out a faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She briefly contemplated shoes, but the idea had formed in her head to take a long walk on the beach. Maybe it would clear her head or at least stop the vile aching. For that, she wouldn’t need shoes.
Having no idea where Devon was, or if he was even still in the suite, she opted to leave through the sliding glass doors to the veranda. The breeze lifted her hair as soon as she walked outside the room and she inhaled deeply as she took the steps leading down to the beach.
The night was warm and the wind coming off the water was comfortable, but she was cold to her bones and she shivered as her feet dug into the sand.
It was a perfect, glorious night. The sky was lit up like a million fireflies had taken wing and danced over the inky black canvas. In the distance the moon was just rising over the water and it shimmered like a splash of silver.
Drawn to the mesmerizing sight, she ventured closer to the water, hugging her arms around her waist as the incoming waves lapped precariously close to her toes.
At one point, she stopped and allowed the water to caress her feet and surround her ankles. There she stood, staring over the expanse of the ocean, stargazing like a dreamer. It would take a million wishes to fix the mess she was currently in. And maybe that was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place.
Stupid dreams. Stupid idealism. She’d been a fool to wait for the perfect guy to give her virginity to. She’d always been somewhat smug and a little holier-than-thou with her friends who’d given it up long ago. But they at least had gone into the situation with their eyes wide open. They hadn’t confused sex for love. They weren’t the ones on their honeymoon with the migraine from hell and a husband who didn’t love them.
They were looking pretty damn smart for shopping around and Ashley was looking like a moron.
She pulled out her cell phone and stared down at her contacts list. She could use the comfort of a good friend right now but she wavered on whether to send a text. She was already humiliated enough. Could she bear to tell her friends or even one friend the truth about her marriage? Or would she go back home, live a lie and hope that Devon would pretend as agreed.
Could she ever make him love her?
She lowered the hand holding the phone and then she shoved it back into her pocket. What could she say anyway in the limited number of characters allowed by a text message? Or maybe she should just tweet everyone.
Marriage fail. Honeymoon fail.