A Contract for His Runaway Bride

CHAPTER FIVE

FORAMOMENT Lincoln forgot they weren’t alone. As soon as her lips met his a fire erupted in his body. An inferno of lust that left no part of him unaffected. His groin tightened, the backs of his legs tingled and his self-control scrambled to get back on duty.

But it was always this way with Elodie. Her passionate and rebellious nature spoke to him in a raw, primal way that was nothing short of overwhelming. Need pummelled through his flesh, making him hot and tight within seconds.

He had existed for seven years without this heady rush of excitement. How had he done it? It seemed impossible that he had lived in a wasteland of substandard sensuality when he could have had this fiery intensity of lust. Her mouth was soft and yet insistent, and he answered it with the thrust of his tongue, mating with hers in a playful duel that sent another rush of blood to his groin.

‘Get a honeymoon suite, you guys!’ called out his brother Aiden with a laugh.

Lincoln lifted his mouth off Elodie’s with a cynical smile only she could see. ‘We’ll finish this later.’

One way or the other, he had to get control of his desire for her. She was exploiting it and he was in danger of caving in like a horny teenager lusting over his first crush.

‘Ooh, I can hardly wait.’ Her eyes danced with mischief and she eased out of his arms to go and sit next to her twin.

Lincoln went back to the table and pretended to listen to a conversation between Mack and his father. He picked up his wine glass and took a token sip, but no amount of alcohol could make him as drunk as Elodie’s sexy mouth. That soft and supple mouth had in the past been all over his body, sending him to the stratosphere multiple times.

He suppressed a shudder and picked up his water glass instead and took a long draught. He put the glass back on the table and caught Elodie’s eye. She smiled and gave him a fingertip wave, and another rush of heat flowed through his flesh.

It was probably only a few minutes later that everyone began to leave, but to Lincoln it was like hours. Finally, the door closed on the last of their guests and Lincoln and Elodie returned to the dining room, where Morag was busy clearing everything away.

‘Let me help you with that,’ Elodie said, stepping forward to help stack some plates.

‘Leave it,’ Morag said, without even turning from the table to look at Elodie. ‘You’ll only end up breaking something.’

Lincoln frowned at his housekeeper’s clipped tone. He had never heard her be so brusque with Elodie—or indeed with anyone before. But then, Morag hadn’t seen him enter the room with Elodie, as her back was to the door. He’d always thought Elodie had exaggerated the housekeeper’s behaviour towards her in the past. Elodie was a bit of a drama queen and liked being the centre of attention. Morag’s no-nonsense, stay-in-the-background personality was the total opposite. But now he wondered if he would have done better to keep an open mind. He had known his housekeeper a lot longer than Elodie and sided with her. Had that been a mistake?

Elodie continued stacking the plates, her lips in a tight line, her handling of the top-shelf crockery not exactly gentle. The clatter and clang of cutlery and china was obviously her way of showing how upset she was.

‘It may surprise you, Morag, but I’m quite domesticated these days. I can stack a dishwasher, do my own laundry and cook a decent meal.’

‘You’ll need more skills than that to keep your husband happy,’ Morag shot back.

Elodie placed the plates on the trolley that would ferry them back to the kitchen. ‘I have plenty of those skills too.’

Her tone was pure sass, and her don’t-mess-with-me expression a warning even he took note of. He knew all about those skills of hers. The sensual skills that gave him thrills like no other person ever had before or since. The sensual skills he was trying not to be tempted by. But he realised he had vastly underestimated the explosive chemistry that still existed between them. Would it lessen if he indulged it or would it get out of control?

‘Morag, why don’t you leave this for us to clear away?’ Lincoln said. ‘You’ve worked long enough today. Go home and we’ll see you when we get back from Spain.’

Morag turned from the table and wiped her hands on her apron, her expression unrepentant. ‘She’ll only bring you trouble. She doesn’t love you.’

‘It’s none of your damn business what I feel about him,’ Elodie flashed back, blue eyes blazing.

‘Elodie—’ Lincoln began in a calming tone, but she was having none of it.

‘You always side with her,’ Elodie said, turning to him. ‘I’m your wife, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to... Oh, never mind.’ She tossed the cutlery she was holding with a loud clatter on top of the plates on the trolley. ‘I’m going to bed.’

She stalked out, slamming the door behind her.

Lincoln sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Drama and Elodie were never far away from each other, but he would have to get used to it—and so would his housekeeper. Otherwise the following six months would be unbearable.

Sacking Morag wasn’t an option. She had been a stalwart support for more years than he could count—first to his mother, as a long-term friend, and since his mother’s death Morag had been his link to her—one he wasn’t ready to sever. She often gave him little vignettes of the two of them growing up as close friends, stories of their escapades and adventures and childhood games that kept his mother alive for him in his mind.

‘Morag, go easy on her, yeah? I want things to work this time.’

The housekeeper’s mouth tightened. ‘She’ll break your heart again. You mark my words.’

He wanted to tell his housekeeper that he hadn’t had his heart broken, just his pride, but Morag had witnessed first-hand the fallout from Elodie jilting him.

‘I’m not going to allow anything like that to happen,’ he said, with the utmost confidence.

He was in control now. Emotions were not part of their relationship this time around and he was going to keep it that way.

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