Читать книгу Claiming My Bride Of Convenience - Кейт Хьюит, Kate Hewitt - Страница 12

WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?

Daisy had left—that was what. And I had kissed her. A shockingly pleasurable kiss that had left me aching in a way I hadn’t in a long time. In fact, in living memory.

I released a shuddering breath as I raked a hand through my hair, my heart thudding a little too hard for my liking. And yet I also felt invigorated, fully alive, as if that kiss had shocked something dormant inside me and sprung it into life.

I was pulsing with both memory and desire even as I was trying to make sense of Daisy’s words, her hurt. She thought I didn’t desire her, when surely even the most innocent woman would have realised that I obviously did. And yet I had been as surprised by my desire as Daisy had—if not more so. I’d never expected to want the woman, and certainly not in the way that I had—with explosive and alarming force, as if a tsunami had crashed over the both of us, pulling us under.

I might have started to kiss her to prove a point, but it had become something else entirely. Something outrageous and overwhelming—even now I was half tempted to chase after her and prove to her just how much I desired her and how much she desired me. I’d felt it in the way her mouth had opened under mine, her hands pulling at my shoulders, drawing me to her.

The memory alone was enough to send heat searing through my body, and I took a step forward before I stilled.

No. I did not chase after women. And certainly not the likes of Daisy, wife or not. I should be relieved that she clearly regretted her ridiculous impulse to ask for an annulment. She’d leave for Amanos in the morning, and if I had my preference I’d never see her again—which was how I’d always wanted it.

So why did the prospect unsettle me? It almost made me feel guilty—as if I’d treated Daisy badly, when I knew I had not. I had given her a fortune, a home to live in, and required nothing from her save that she stay put. If she was no longer satisfied with the arrangement we’d agreed on, that was her fault—not mine.

And yet…I couldn’t get the image of her out of my mind. The ridiculous red dress that had highlighted her figure in such a breathtaking display, her cloud of light brown hair and the fractured hurt in her topaz eyes. And the reality was pressing in on me that I would need an heir. A proper wife. And the one I currently had might actually fit the bill. After all, Daisy had been happy enough with our convenient marriage. Why shouldn’t she be satisfied with what I had to offer her now—the ability to have a child, a family of her own? She could even stay on Amanos, as was her preference. And my own life wouldn’t have to change—at least not much.

Could it be that simple? Was it what I really wanted?

Mulling it over, I headed back to the party.

‘Matteo, you’ve been gone for ages.’

A skinny arm wound through my own as my companion for the evening pouted prettily up at me, no doubt thinking she looked seductive rather than petulant. I stared down at her, trying to remember her name.

‘Matteo?’

‘I had some business to take care of.’

I reached for a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray and drained it in one long swallow. Daisy’s image was still flashing behind my eyes. Those hurt eyes. Why did they unsettle me so much? I’d managed to completely forget Daisy for three years. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind now?

‘Business?’

The woman whose name I couldn’t remember deepened her pout, making her look like a sulky child. Did she honestly think that was alluring, or that I would care? I gazed down at her expertly made-up face and registered the calculation in her eyes.

As if on cue, she nestled closer to me.

‘This party’s rather dull, isn’t it? How about we go upstairs?’

She gave me a knowingly seductive look that normally would have had me smiling just as knowingly back, but for some reason it made my stomach clench and my body recoil. I didn’t want this woman. I wanted another one—with topaz eyes and a ridiculous red dress.

‘Matteo…?’

On any other evening I would have taken up this woman’s offer—and gladly. I’d arranged my marriage to satisfy my grandfather’s vindictive demand and also to grant me the minimum of inconvenience—and for the last three years I had been inconvenienced very little indeed. Yet now I thought of the paltry pleasures available to me and realised how little they appealed.

It was a strange thought, but I realised it was not a new one. Those pleasures had been palling for some time, and it had simply taken one shocking encounter with my wayward wife to make me realise it.

‘I’m busy tonight,’ I told the woman—Veronique, I’d remembered—and watched, unmoved, as her mouth dropped open in surprise and then her eyes narrowed.

‘It’s not that frumpy tramp, is it?’ she asked.

A sudden red-hot rage blazed through me. ‘You will not talk about her like that,’ I snapped.

Veronique’s expression managed to turn both smug and desolate. ‘It is