Bridal Bargains

Grimacing, he moved away from her, going to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling while Mia took a few moments to take in this totally unexpected new situation.

He intended to share her bed, she seemed to find it necessary to tell herself. They had been married for almost seven long months, and never shared the same bed as a married couple normally did.

Now this. It felt weird, like lying next to a stranger.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked quietly.

‘Its a big enough bed.’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose we will manage.’

Silence fell, the kind of tight, stinging, uncomfortable silence that caught at the breath and increased the tension in the darkness of the room.

‘Why did you bring me here to your brother’s house?’ Mia asked when she could stand it no longer.

‘It is the family house,’ he said. ‘Leon and Carol are in residence right now because Leon is based here at the moment. They expect me to stay with them when I am in London. It would have been … awkward if I had taken you to a hotel.’

‘I won’t do or say anything that could embarrass you,’ she assured him huskily.

His dark head turned. Mia felt his eyes on her. ‘You have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?’ he said.

Mia’s head turned so that their eyes clashed again. ‘It’s mutual,’ she countered.

He didn’t answer, those lush, long, coal-black lashes flickering slightly as he continued to

lie there studying her in the darkness—a darkness they had always been more comfortable in. A darkness where most of their most intimate moments had taken place—their mutual passion, their ability to drown in each other.

Drown, as Mia could feel herself beginning to drown right now—drown in those deep, dark, sensually knowing eyes that could probe right inside her and touch places only this man had touched, ignite senses only this man could ignite.

‘Go to sleep,’ he ordered softly.

Sleep. Yes, she agreed, dragging her eyes away from his. Don’t look at him, she told herself sternly as she turned her head on the pillow. Don’t even think about him, lying here next to you.

And don’t, for goodness’ sake, remember what it feels like to have him make love to you!

The stern lecture made no difference because she did imagine him making love to her. She could feel his hands caress her body, feel his mouth move sensually on hers, could feel her breathing growing shallow as her heart picked up pace and that place between her thighs begin to pulse with a message so erotic that she had to lie very still with her muscles tightly clenched in an effort to subdue the feeling.

What made it all worse was that it was all happening under his steady gaze. She could sense him watching her, knew he was witnessing the increase in her breathing and the way her eyes couldn’t close because she was holding herself so tense beside him. A tension that was fizzing in the air around them. Sexual tension.

‘Go to sleep,’ he repeated in a soft, silken voice that utterly rejected every message her stupid body was sending him.

Dismayed, she threw herself onto her side and away from him, so agonised by her own weaknesses that it actually hurt like a physical pain.

It took her ages to relax and ages to drift back into a restless slumber—only to come blisteringly awake again the moment she felt him move beside her.

With her heart beginning to pound in her aching chest, she listened to him release a heavy sigh then carefully slide out of the bed. There was a rustling sound as he pulled a robe over his body. Even in the darkness, with her back towards him, she could feel his grimness and knew—just knew—that the grimness was there because he hated this situation so much.

Hated having to lie here beside her in this bed when he was probably wishing himself a million miles away.

With his mistress, most probably.

He threw himself down in one of the easy chairs by the curtained window. She heard him sigh again, then—nothing. Nothing for long minutes while she held herself still, listening until she could stand to listen no longer and turned over in the bed to gaze at the dark bulk by the window.

He was asleep, stretched out in the chair with his dark head thrown back and his face a mask of grim perseverance.

Tears began to burn at the back of her eyes. Weak tears. Wretched tears. Foolishly hurt tears! She fell asleep like that, with the tears still clinging to her lashes.

When she awoke next morning she was alone as usual. The knowledge that Alex had found it impossible to spend a whole night in the same bed with her lay like a lead weight across her chest.

Then she remembered Suzanna and got up, showered quickly and dressed herself in a pair of comfortable stretch white leggings and a pale blue overshirt, before taking a deep breath and letting herself out of that bedroom to go in search of the others.