Claiming His Wedding Night

He handed it to her casually. ‘This is for you.’

She swallowed, her breath hot and scratchy in her throat. Where had that box come from? She didn’t remember seeing it earlier.

As though reading her mind, he fixed his eyes on her face. ‘I arranged for the chopper to drop it off this morning.’

Gazing into his narrowed grey eyes, Addie felt her stomach flip over. Of course, she thought weakly. It was just another example of the surreal, topsy-turvy world in which he lived. Where his every whim was magically and swiftly satisfied.

Trying not to think about how she fitted in with that particular revelation, she glanced down at the box she was holding. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it and see.’

Heart thudding, she tugged at the ribbon, struggling to undo it. Finally she pulled off the lid and, parting the feathery sheets of tissue paper, lifted out a short silk slip. It was pale gold, trimmed with delicate cream lace and utterly, utterly exquisite. She stared at it in silence, too stunned to speak.

‘Do you like it?’

She nodded. ‘It’s beautiful, Malachi. I love the colour,’ she said at last. Her cheeks grew warm. ‘But I don’t have anything for you.’ And what would she give him anyway? she thought with a needle stab of pain. The man who not only had everything but valued nothing except winning?

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ he said slowly.

He lifted his gaze, locking on to her flushed, startled face, and she felt a swirling liquid heat rise up inside as his eyes roamed over her body with open longing.

‘Try it on.’

His voice was soft, and had he been touching her she might not have heard the authority beneath the seductive tone, for he wielded his body and her response to it like a weapon, ruthlessly using every kiss, every caress, to get what he wanted.

Only she must have wanted it too.

Or why else would she be hearing herself say, ‘What? Here? Now?’?

His eyes met hers—dark, triumphant, like a runner who could see the finishing line.

He nodded slowly. ‘Yes. Here. Now. Otherwise...’ He paused, turning the word slowly over in his mouth, savouring it. ‘How can I take it off?’

Something was wrong. Yes. Here. Now. His words were ringing inside her head like a series of off-key notes. But why? The slip was a present. A gift. A spontaneous gesture designed to give pleasure. Or was it? She had no reason to doubt him, but she couldn’t shift the prickle of apprehension beneath her ribs. Why give her this today? Why not on the plane? Or yesterday?

Watching her in silence, his expression veiled, Malachi pictured her reaction, and inevitable surrender, feeling a rush of pre-emptive power. It was all part of the game. The game of seduction. And, like most games, it required nothing more than a cool head. And, of course, knowing when to make your move. It was a game he enjoyed playing. And winning.

Looking up, she found him studing her intently—and suddenly she knew why. His eyes had none of the heat or fire of a lover. Instead they were glittering down at her with a calculating coldness that made a shiver run down her spine.

She lifted her chin, her shoulders stiffening with suppressed anger. ‘Why don’t we wait until later?’ she said coolly.

He frowned. ‘Later?’

‘Yes.’ She met his gaze. ‘You know I said I wanted to explore the island? Well I arranged with Terry for him to give us a tour this morning.’

His eyes were suddenly harder than stone. ‘So unarrange it,’ he said arrogantly.

This time it was unequivocal. It was an order—clear and direct.

She glowered at him, her anger as quick and cold as a flash freeze. ‘I will not.’

There was a long, pulsing silence.

Malachi stared at her, his disbelief that she had actually rebuffed him rapidly switching to cold, hard rage. This wasn’t how it worked. Did she seriously think for one moment that she could set the agenda for this trip? Or that he was remotely interested in looking around the damn island with her? She was here for one reason and one reason only. Clearly now was the time to remind her of that fact.

‘Then I will,’ he said coldly. ‘I don’t know what fanciful little idea you’ve got in that pretty little head about why we’re here, but let me make it easy for you to understand. It has nothing to do with sightseeing.’

A muscle flickered in his jaw. He could feel his control slipping and it did nothing to improve his temper. He had wanted to demonstrate his composure in the face of her helpless desire for him. Only instead he was acting like a thwarted teenage boy.