The Secret Wife

‘I am not a womaniser.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I had a brief and foolish affair with Justine when I was only twenty-one.’

‘Cosh... you must have made some impression!’ Accidentally meeting his intent golden eyes, Rosie became alarmingly short of breath. Without fully appreciating what she was doing, she started up the staircase backwards.

‘My wealth made the deepest impression.’ Constantine spread eloquent and dismissive hands as he strolled towards her with the fluid prowl of a lion tracking a nervous prey. ‘Yet it appears to mean little to you. That is a new experience for me and a most surprising response from you.’

‘Really?’ Rosie’s strained query wobbled as she flipped up two whole steps at once, tightly gripping the worn balustrade for support. ‘Why surprising?’

‘Had you been as avaricious as I believed, you would have played on the attraction between us. You would have been eager to share my bed in the expectation of profiting from that intimacy,’ Constantine responded with a slow, devastating smile. ‘But while the flesh was weak the will was stronger still and you were not tempted by the thought of what surrender might bring you.’

‘Constantine,’ Rosie said slightly shrilly, still heading up and back but utterly powerless to disengage her mesmerised gaze from the dark lure of his. ‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that I might be the kind of devious woman who thinks that you could thrive on a challenge?’

‘But you know that truth as if you were born knowing it, pethi mou,’ Constantine savoured with disconcerting amusement, raking her with burnished eyes of appreciative gold. ‘Why else would you fight with me?’

‘Because... because...’ Rosie fumbled wildly for a reason as she reached the landing and tried to step up. She might have lost her balance had Constantine not reached out and swiftly steadied her with strong hands. ‘Because you irritate the hell out of me... that’s why I fight with you!’ she managed in a surge of frantic rebellion.

‘You fight with me,’ Constantine traded in a husky growl of disagreement, ‘to hold me at bay. But you’ve used that ploy once too often, and I may have been a slow learner but, believe me, when I catch on I’m faster than the speed of light and from now on every time you shout at me I will cover your mouth with mine.’

‘It won’t work... I’m naturally argumentative’ Rosie asserted even more tautly.

Golden fire in his molten appraisal, Constantine swept her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom. ‘Christos... of course it will work. And once we have made love, once you have lain in my arms and tasted the pleasure we can share, you will never mention the

throwback again. I may not be perfect but I’m way beyond him in the reliability stakes.’

Rosie looked up at him, her heart racing so fast, it thundered in her ears. ‘We c-can’t do this,’ she stammered.

‘We can...let me show you how,’ Constantine groaned achingly against the corner of her mouth, his breath fanning her cheek. A hunger she couldn’t fight shot through her with the shattering shock effect of a lightning bolt and, reacting on pure instinct to the almost pleading quality of that deep, dark drawl, she turned her mouth under his... and burned.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rose surfaced from that kiss to find herself on the bed. Her dress started falling off as she pulled herself up on one elbow and she snatched at the wildly dipping neckline which was threatening to expose her breasts. A vaguely exploring hand discovered the reason for that lack of suspension. Her zip was down. In a daze she focused on Constantine.

Already he was half-undressed and he was watching her intently, a curious smile playing about his wide, wickedly sensual mouth. ‘Why do you act so shy? Do you only make love in the dark?’

A flush of pink ran up beneath her skin. Meeting those brilliant black eyes, she found it was so incredibly hard to breathe or to think but oh, so easy to feel the pulse of throbbing excitement that beat in tune with her racing heart. Do I want to do this? Rosie asked herself in sudden turmoil. Oh, yes. Should I? Definitely not. Hitching her dress with an unsteady hand, she snaked a foot slowly towards the edge of the bed.

Constantine strolled forward with immense calm and tugged her shoes off. His mobile phone buzzed. He tensed. Rosie watched him expectantly as he reached for it. The buzz stopped. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.

‘Switching it off—’

‘But it might be an important call!’

Beneath Rosie’s deeply shaken gaze, Constantine shrugged. ‘It can wait until morning, pethi mou.’

A whole night in Constantine’s arms, Rosie found herself savouring, and then she stopped herself dead. There was no such thing as a whole night with Constantine. As soon as he had satisfied his lust, he would be off to sleep elsewhere. His lust. Dear heaven, how could she even be thinking of making love with him? That anguished question had little hope of a rational answer when she discovered that she could think of nothing else.

‘You’re very nervous,’ Constantine murmured with a frown as he slid out of his well-cut trousers.

‘I am not nervous,’ Rosie stated with a shrill and desperate stab at dignity as she finally worked up sufficient will-power to scramble off the bed, hotly flushed and contorting herself to struggle with her zip. ‘But I’m afraid you can’t buy me with dinner and a new wardrobe... or even a reasonable pretence of being human for five minutes—’

Constantine intercepted her, confident hands closing over her rigid shoulders. ‘You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m not rough in bed,’ he told her huskily. ‘Not unless you want me to be...’

Finding herself backed up against the bed, Rosie stammered. ‘C-Constantine...’

‘Your heart is going crazy, pethi mou.’