‘You’re cold,’ he said when she shivered. ‘We will go inside and eat.’
As far as he was concerned the discussion was now closed.
He led her inside and even he was stunned at the intimacy of the small feast that had been prepared for them. The large table was set at one end, just for two, candles glowed and rose petals were scattered across the cream tablecloth. He heard her stifled gasp of shock and smiled.
‘Your staff have excelled themselves,’ she said softly as she came to stand beside him. ‘It looks divine.’
The intimacy only increased once he was seated at the table with her, the soft glow of candlelight casting her face into partial shadow. Her shoulders were bare apart from the one strap of the dress. They looked creamy, soft, and he wanted to touch her skin, to kiss it, taste it.
Food was the last thing he wanted.
* * *
Determined not to be put off by Santos’s sudden change of subject, and desperate to keep her traitorous body under control, Georgina spoke. ‘I can remember my father walking away late one summer’s evening. It was dark and hot, and later there was such a storm I worried all night about him. It sounds like it was tough for you too after your mother died.’
He’d almost opened up to her—almost let her in.
His face hardened and she knew she’d touched on a nerve.
‘It was. But I’m not going to talk about such things now.’
He offered her some of the delicacies on the table, his fingers brushing hers, causing her to look up into his eyes.
‘There are far better things to talk of on our wedding day.’
Our wedding day.
The words hung in the air between them as his dark eyes held hers. She should say something—anything. But she couldn’t. The intensity of the attraction sparking between them was too much.
‘You’re not eating.’
He glanced quickly at her untouched plate and her pulse-rate leapt as once again his gaze held hers.
‘It’s looks delicious, but—’
‘You’re just not hungry?’ He cut across her words, then took her hand, his own tanned one covering hers easily, sending shock waves of heat up her arm, and she was glad he’d forgotten the talk of his family.
‘No,’ she answered boldly, and wondered what he would say if she told him just what she did want right now. Would he laugh at her if she told him that all she could think of was kissing him, feeling his arms tight around her? She just couldn’t fight the attraction any longer.
‘So what does my sweet bride want?’ He raised her fingers to his lips, dropping lingering kisses to each finger, and all the while he watched her, his eyes darkening with desire. ‘Remember,’ he teased, his voice deep and heavily accented. ‘No pretence—not tonight.’
‘I want...’ She paused and smiled coyly at him as he waited. ‘You.’
Shock laced with excitement fizzed in her veins as he raised his brows, slowly and suggestively. Once more he kissed her fingers, each time lingering longer, until she couldn’t stand the anticipation any more.
He stood up from the table, keeping a tight hold on her hand, and pulled her up against him, holding her close.
Music began to drift around the room, reminding her that they were far from alone, that the crew and staff were lingering in the background to do his bidding. The disappointment she felt at not being totally alone with him shocked her. She wanted what they’d shared over the last few days.
‘It is a tradition, is it not, for the bride and groom to dance together?’
He was so close now she could smell fresh pine mixed with the musky scent of pure male. It was intoxicating.
‘In England it is, yes.’ Her voice was little more than a husky whisper.
‘Then we dance.’
He walked away from the table, guiding her to the middle of the room as the gentle rhythm of the music continued. When he held her close once more her knees threatened to give way, so intense was the attraction between them. It was an attraction that had been stamped out several times already, but Georgina knew this time it was going to be different—because this time she wanted him with a fever that engulfed her whole body. He was her husband now, and despite trying not to she had feelings for him.
This was how a bride should feel, and she pushed back memories of the clinical registry office service when she’d married Richard. It might only be for this one night, but she knew she had to live for the moment—had to surrender herself to it completely. This could be her one chance of sampling such heady romance.
As those thoughts flickered to life in her mind Santos kissed her—a soft, lingering kiss that held the promise of passion, one that awakened every nerve in her body. She deepened the kiss, closing her eyes against the onslaught of pleasure which crashed over her like waves onto the beach as she pressed close against him, feeling the evidence of his desire.