‘We had fun for a while,’ he said slowly, wishing that she was opposite him so that he could read the expression on her face. Her voice implied nothing but a casual interest. ‘And I was very fond of her. I still am.’
Just like you’re having fun with me for a while? she wanted to ask. Instead, she chickened out of the sickening prospect of putting him in a spot. She wondered whether that would be his future dismissal of her when he was lying on the same bed, bringing breakfast up for another woman.
She ate some of her breakfast in silence, then manoeuvred the tray onto the low oak chest of drawers next to her side of the bed.
‘That was good,’ she said. ‘Thank you very much. The last time I had food delivered to me on a tray in my room was years ago, when I was ill, and my father waited on me hand and foot for a few days. I remember thinking at the time how nice it was not to have to fetch and carry for other people.’
She lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, feeling the bed shift as he disposed of his own tray then turned on his side to her.
‘You’re quite something, Destiny Felt, do you know that?’ He pulled the sheet a few inches down so that her breasts were exposed, but he didn’t touch her, contenting himself with looking, until his looks were as heady as his touch would have been.
She turned to lie on her side, facing him, half wanting to cover herself, but the desire to do that was a lot less strong than the desire to watch him react to her. She had never known that one man’s hunger could be such a powerful aphrodisiac. Eventually, he couldn’t resist, and he trailed a finger to circle her nipple, touching it with butterfly lightness, watching as it stiffened and puckered under his finger.
‘We need never stop this, you know,’ he said gravely, addressing her responding breast, and her breath caught in her throat.
Wasn’t this what she had wanted to hear? Some talk of commitment? Of permanence? What else could he mean? They had spent a wonderful night together, and at least as far as she was concerned it was much more than that. Somehow it felt as though their personalities fused. Did he feel it too?
She was no liberated westerner who could gaily conduct an affair as a fun thing while it lasted. She was a traditionalist and, although she’d slept with him, she wanted so much more.
She could feel herself holding her breath as she looked at him.
‘What, not even to eat or have a bath?’ she asked lightly, while her heart pounded like a steam engine inside her. Having Callum at her side, her husband, would raise a few problems—not least those concerning country of residence—but the doubts were soothed as soon as they surfaced. She would be at his side, wherever that might turn out to be.
‘I’m being serious.’ He lay flat on his back with his hands folded behind his head. He could feel a muscle pulsing gently in his jaw and a light film of perspiration was breaking out over his body. It hadn’t been like this with Stephanie, but, then again, he hadn’t been toying with his heart then. She’d wanted proof of security and he’d had no trouble agreeing to an engagement because he had felt more real warmth and affection for her than he had ever felt for any of his previous women. Not that talk of marriage had ever cropped up before. It had been something he had purposefully avoided.
But now it was different. He couldn’t envisage not having this woman by his side for the duration of his life, for better or for worse and all those other vows uttered during a marriage ceremony, vows that he had never given much thought to in the past. And he didn’t want an engagement.
But, for all that, the thought of exposing himself and telling her how he felt sent a chill of terror crawling along his veins.
It hadn’t escaped him that not once during their lovemaking had the word love been mentioned, not even when she’d been flushed and moaning with pleasure, with every defence down and her head thrown back in abandon. And that in itself said it all. Because, however sharp she was in every conceivable practical area, when it came to emotions she was still finding her way, and there was an openness there that was almost innocent in its demonstrations.
But, God, he still wanted her to be his for ever.
‘We could get married,’ he said, still staring upwards. ‘I mean, it makes sense, don’t you think? We’re compatible in bed—more than compatible—and it could sort out every niggling area of all this bargaining we’ve been trying to do over the past few weeks. I can’t personally think of a better arrangement than marriage.’
She couldn’t fail to see the sense behind his proposal, he thought, and then he would have time on his side. Time to woo her into loving him. He was her first lover and, in a life in which relationships had never made an imprint, she probably wasn’t very certain what love was. She would only ever have had the example of her parents, and from the sound of it they had been an exceptional couple, both scientists, both fiercely determined to bring their skill and knowledge to a country that needed it. From the start they had been unified in their goals. But with him, well, hadn’t it all been a little different?