Imogen stared at his sprawled body, apparently relaxed, yet with eyes so watchful. He’d deliberately distanced himself when it would be easy to persuade her with his arm around her. Her mind always went to mush when he touched her.
He was being noble, damn him, and to her chagrin that only made it harder to deny him. But he wouldn’t be the man she adored if he wasn’t decent and caring. Look at today—giving her this first exhilarating taste of sailing.
Her thoughts stuck and circled. Thierry had shared his love of the outdoors with her, his delight in speed and adventure.
He wasn’t blocking her out of his life, or taking her for granted like the convenient bride she’d imagined herself.
He was letting her in.
Imogen stared hard at the man before her, the tautness of his shoulders and hands revealing he was anything but relaxed. He wasn’t cold-blooded. He might see marriage as a pragmatic solution to their situation but Thierry was passionate and caring. He didn’t love her but surely there was a chance he might one day?
If she stayed.
Her heart pounded like stampeding wild animals and she blinked, blinded by the sudden brightness of sunshine on glittering water.
‘Watch out!’ A moment later he was with her again, his firm body hot beside her, his strong hand guiding hers.
The boat shifted, poised for a moment, then turned and caught the wind, flying across the water.
But it wasn’t the speed that caught the breath in Imogen’s throat.
She sank against him, her head against his chest, his tantalising scent stimulating her senses. She closed her eyes and felt the tension leave her.
Really, she had only one choice.
‘You win, Thierry. I’ll stay.’
It might be the biggest gamble of her life, the only gamble, but she’d play it to the end.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THIERRY’S HANDS CAME around her waist, pulling her back against him. In the mirror she read that familiar smile, and her stomach tumbled over itself as it had that first night in Paris.
‘You look good enough to eat.’ He pressed a kiss to her neck, and she shivered as desire spiked.
‘Seriously, this dress is right for tonight?’ It was her first formal event as Thierry’s hostess and nerves had struck. When he’d mentioned it a month ago she’d told herself wearing one of Izzy’s creations would be perfect. The full-length white satin with crimson flowers would give her confidence. It was the dress she’d worn the night she’d met Thierry and it felt like a lucky talisman.
Should she have taken his offer to buy something new?
‘This dress is perfect.’ He spread his palm over her belly, now rounded just enough that she’d had to find a dressmaker to let out the dress a little.
‘Even if I’m making it strain at the seams?’ Surely she’d put on weight in the past week? Soon she’d need new bras too.
Thierry’s hand slid up to her breasts straining against the satin. His light touch made her knees quiver. ‘The only problem will be the disgruntled women when all men watch you, ma chérie.’
Imogen’s lips twitched. ‘Sweet talker.’
‘Siren.’ His hand stroked her budding nipple, and she gasped in exquisite arousal. Pregnancy made her even more sensitive to his touch. And he knew it. In the mirror his smile was pure erotic invitation as she sank back against him.
It had been so easy to give in and agree to live as Thierry’s wife. He made her feel desired, appreciated, supported. Even if he didn’t love her, surely that was enough to begin a marriage? And their sex life just got better and better. She read familiar heat in his expression.
‘Thierry! We don’t have time. And I’ve got my make-up on.’
Firmly, she stifled a wish that he felt more than sexual attraction. She needed patience. One day surely...?
He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck that made her shiver, then stepped back. Instantly, she felt bereft. She was as needy as ever and now she’d opened her heart to him too.
‘I’ll be good. Besides, I have something for you.’
‘You do?’ She made to turn but he stopped her.
‘Stand there.’ She watched, dumbfounded, as he lowered a magnificent necklace over her head. The dressing-room light flashed on brilliant gems and old gold that glowed with the patina of age. Imogen was dazzled as the weight of the necklace settled on her.
‘I’ve heard of rubies the size of pigeons’ eggs...’ she said shakily.