After Their Vows

She was his. She belonged to him. His long, tall, sexy bride who’d almost got away from him. He wanted to haul her upstairs and stamp his claim on her so thoroughly she would never want to get away from him again.

‘Stop it,’ she choked.

‘Stop what?’ he growled in hungry response.

That, Angie wanted to say as that hungry growl made itself felt in the stinging tips of her breasts and the clamouring juncture of her thighs.

‘Do you want to eat this food or not?’ She turned away again, and caught the sound of his exhaled breath.

‘At least the big green bag suddenly makes sense,’ he murmured, a trifle whimsically.

Refusing to take that whimsy on, she said, ‘It came with the outfit,’ pul

ling out a chair for herself and sitting down on it quickly when Roque made a move to do the polite thing and hold the chair for her. ‘And it’s an old one,’ she added—because it was the truth. ‘I bought it last year, after I …’

The rest of what she had been about to say just froze into a lump in her throat. Angie dipped her head down, appalled with herself for almost blurting out what she had.

A silence developed—a thick one, with aching undertones that contracted the walls of her chest. The lowest point of her life, she thought bleakly. Even lower than the moment she’d discovered that Roque had cheated on her.

‘Where did you go when you hid away from me? ‘ The quiet question arrived from across the table, and she looked up to find Roque had sat down at the table without her even realising it.

‘Nowhere.’ Dropping her eyes from his again, she attempted an indifferent shrug while making a play of smoothing the folds of her skirt.

‘I looked for you,’ he said almost roughly. ‘I looked for you everywhere, but you just seemed to disappear off the face of the earth.’

‘When—when you have a relatively well-known face you have to disappear off the face of the earth if you don’t want to be found,’ Angie pointed out, with what she hoped was a cool dryness aimed to cover up what she was really feeling.

Roque grimaced as he served food onto their plates. ‘A convent, perhaps?’ he suggested. Then, ‘No,’ he mused thoughtfully. ‘I had all the convents checked out. Same with the hotels … all holistic retreats. I began scraping the barrel when I started checking the hospitals—but I suppose that you find it highly satisfying to know you worried me like— What?’ he demanded sharply when Angie turned white.

Staring at the plate of steaming food sitting in front of her, Angie felt her stomach contract. Her legs were tingling with an urgent need to get up and run away from what he’d said. She did not want to remember her three long months of self-imposed isolation—or the other month she’d spent confined to a hospital bed.

Across the table Roque was frowning, tracking back over what he had said that could have put that terrible expression on her face.

‘Angie—’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Reaching out blindly, she picked up her wine glass—only to find it was empty when she raised it to her lips.

Smothering an urge to growl in frustration, Roque picked up the wine bottle and stretched across the table to take her glass from her, so he could fill it up.

By then Angie had dared to look at him. She saw the controlled volcano he was grimly keeping banked down because she refused to open up to him, and wished, for a split second, that he wasn’t her enemy.

‘Thanks,’ she mumbled when he offered back the wine glass. A delicate sip or two later and the tense clutch of nausea had eased its grip on her stomach.

She picked up her knife and fork and made herself eat, taking tiny mouthfuls which tasted divine but were still difficult to swallow. Roque did the same. When, seemingly, they’d both had enough of pretending they were enjoying the meal, he sat back with a sigh, and Angie leapt on the moment by standing up and reaching across the table to pick up his plate.

Once again he took her by complete surprise, grabbing hold of her wrist.

‘What now?’ she demanded, watching another frown descend over his face.

‘Your rings,’ he said. ‘You are not wearing your rings.’

‘Of course I’m not.’ She snatched her wrist back. ‘I took them off when you stopped being a faithful husband to me and …’

Her snappy voice trailed away to a strangled nothing when it suddenly hit her what they were actually talking about, and she just froze to a breathless effigy where she stood.

Her rings.

‘Oh, my God.’ Her mind went into total freefall.