Читать книгу Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 14

When they returned to their private suite, Belinda’s nerves were strung out to screaming point. Inside the bedroom the drapes had been drawn, and the bedside lamps cast a warm inviting glow over the expansive bed. A bed she was now about to share with her husband. Someone had been in the room and dispensed with the throw pillows adorning the head of the bed and had turned down the sheets. A single perfect deep-pink rose stood in a bud vase on the bedside table.

The reality of sleeping with Luc bore down on her with terrifying pressure. Her heart jumped erratically in her chest and she fought to keep her breathing measured. Could she do this? Lord, she didn’t even know which side of the bed he slept on. As if he read her thoughts, Luc gave her a small smile.

“You usually sleep there.” He indicated the side of the bed where the vase stood. “Although I’m happy to change if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

Twin beds would make her feel more comfortable right now, Belinda decided. Even separate rooms. She drew in a levelling breath and forced herself to meet his gaze.

“No, that will be fine. If that’s the way we’ve always done it.”

Luc’s smile froze on his face for the briefest moment before he nodded.

“Belinda—” The chime of his cell phone interrupted what he’d been about to say. He flicked a glance at the caller ID. “Excuse me. I need to take this. I might be a while.”

Belinda watched as he left the room, his murmured tones disappearing behind the closed door. She hurried to the dressing room and grabbed a ruby-coloured nightgown from one of her drawers. With more haste than care she shucked off her clothing and pulled it on. The gown was a filmy piece of next to nothing, with a soft stretch lace bodice that hugged her breasts like a lover’s caress.

She smoothed her hand down over the gossamer-fine material and wondered if she had bought the nightgown as part of her trousseau or whether it had been a gift from Luc. The very idea of his hands caressing the fabric the way her own did now sent a perverse thrill of longing through her body.

What was wrong with her? Inside her mind she reacted like a frightened virgin, yet physically her body yearned for Luc’s touch. Belinda shook her head and hurried to the bathroom. Every step of today had brought her nothing but more questions. She was weary of it all. Bone weary. Suddenly that big, softly lit bed was very inviting indeed.

Catching her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Belinda wondered whether she shouldn’t have simply chosen a T-shirt to sleep in instead. The tiny spaghetti straps looped over her shoulders lent an impression of wanton fragility, and the warmth of the red fabric made her skin glow like that of a woman welcoming her lover. Belinda huffed in frustration. She was driving herself crazy and it had to stop.

She seated herself at the vanity and grabbed a hairbrush from the drawer and started to brush her long dark hair with punishing strokes.

A movement in the doorway stilled her hand. Luc stepped forward and took her hairbrush from her fingers. “Are you trying to rip it all out?” His censure was as gentle as his touch as he took over from where she’d begun.

“I thought you might have been in bed already,” he commented, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

So he’d recognised her sudden fear. He knew her better than she gave him credit for, but then, of course he would. Right now he knew her better than she knew herself. Sudden tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.

Luc stopped brushing, his hands settling on her shoulders.

“Belinda?”

She blinked away the burning moisture, breaking eye contact with him. He saw far too much.

“I’m okay. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Understandable. It’s been a full day, for both of us.” He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Go to bed. I’ll be along in a while.”

She couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t coming to bed now.

“Aren’t you tired, too?” she asked.

“Yes, but something’s come up. Guests we weren’t expecting until late next week have brought their trip forward to the day after tomorrow. Manu and I have some contingency plans to lay in place.”

“Guests? Already?”

“It’s not ideal, but they can’t be put off. They should only be here a couple of nights.”

“They’re regulars?”

“After a fashion, yes.”

“Then they’ll have certain expectations. We must meet them. You can’t give them less than that. You wouldn’t under normal circumstances,” she said carefully.

Right now Belinda couldn’t think of anything worse, but this was Luc’s business. The fact he’d cancelled out six weeks of patronage for their honeymoon—six weeks they’d lost—meant he would have to get back to business. Besides, the sooner she resumed life as she’d known it, the sooner she might start to remember.

“Spoken like a true hotelier’s daughter. We’ll worry about it in the morning. Now, go to bed.”

He dropped a fleeting kiss on her forehead and turned her toward the bedroom, following close on her heels. When she was settled in the bed, he switched off the lamp nearest her. Belinda suddenly reached out and held his arm.

“Please, leave the other light on until you come to bed?”

“It won’t disturb you?”

“No. I grew used to a light in the hospital.” She stifled a yawn. “Besides, I doubt anything could keep me awake now.”

Challenging heat flared in Luc’s eyes and Belinda felt an answering response in her body. The elasticized bodice of her nightwear felt too small as her nipples hardened and pressed against the fabric.

Well, maybe there was one thing. As wrong as this all felt to her she couldn’t deny there was a powerful magnetic pull between them. Luc straightened and trailed his hand over her shoulder and down her arm, leaving her skin tingling beneath his fleeting touch.

She barely heard the click of the door as it closed behind him. A near overwhelming desire to call him back choked in her throat as Belinda silently admitted she’d never felt so completely lost and alone in her entire life.

The meeting with Manu had been productive, and Luc let himself back into their suite with a tired sigh of relief. Their guests would arrive the day after tomorrow around lunchtime, in time for drinks followed by an al fresco luncheon on the deck. Then, if Belinda was up to it, she’d accompany the female member of the party to Taupo by helicopter for a couple of hours’ shopping while he and Manu took her husband fly-fishing in one of the rivers that ran through the property.

The female member.

Luc clenched his jaw against the curse that fought to rip from his throat. He had no doubt that Demi Le Clerc had trouble up her sleeve when she’d had her assistant phone the estate to change her booking. His unease had magnified when Manu reported he’d tried to contact the award-winning jazz singer to inform her that the booking couldn’t be altered but apparently she and her new fiancé were “in transit” and therefore unavailable. With modern communication being what it was, Luc very much doubted she was unreachable, rather that she’d informed her staff of her intention to be that way. How she’d found out so quickly that he’d returned home said a great deal for her spy network.

Manu had already agreed to check amongst the staff to find out if that particular spy network had been fed by one of their own. Confidentiality and loyalty were sacrosanct. If anyone had abused either, they were in breach of their employment contract and would be dispensed with immediately.

Luc swallowed against the bitter taste in his mouth when he thought of Demi and Belinda meeting. He was reluctant to expose her to Belinda while his wife was still in such a vulnerable position, but then, it may well work to his advantage. What harm could Demi possibly do when Belinda remembered nothing of their time together? Belinda had no idea their marriage had been the catalyst that had seen Demi break tabloid records with the speed of her engagement to aging billionaire oilman Hank Walker.

He’d been a fool to ever let Demi think there was more to their relationship than casual friendship. He’d never once entertained the idea of marrying her, despite her attempts to entice him into commitment. They’d made love just the once—a coupling that provided physical release only, with little else to recommend it.

Luc moved restlessly toward his piano in the dimly lit room. He was too wound up to sleep. He closed his eyes and let his fingers drift gently across the keys, the haunting quality of the music he played flowed over him—relaxing his muscles and his mind.

Playing had always had that effect on him, even back in his teens, although he was never the kind of teenager who’d have admitted to this particular skill. No, hotwiring cars and breaking and entering were more his style then. It had been during a B&E that he’d been sprung by the owner of the house—an elderly gentleman who’d seen right through Luc’s attitude and invited him back, through the front door next time. It had taken six weeks but Luc had found his feet retracing the path to Mr. Hensen’s home. The retired pianist had sensed Luc needed an outlet, a change of direction in his path of self-destruction. He’d insisted on giving Luc lessons—lessons that had been emphatically refused until the threat of going to the police was coolly raised.

It had been ages since Luc had thought about Mr. Hensen. Ages since he’d allowed himself to miss the old man in a way he’d never missed his parents after their deaths.

As the final note hung on the air, Luc let his eyes open again. Belinda sat opposite him on one of the large cream sofas, her feet curled under her. His eyes raked over her barely clad body, his pulse leaping to instant life. It had been torture to leave her in bed, her body gilded by the bedside lamp, her hair a glorious fan across the fine linen of her pillowcase. He’d wanted to make love with her with a physical ache that had almost driven him to his knees—to imprint himself back in her mind and her body in a way she would never forget again.

He dragged his wayward thoughts under disciplined restraint. Luc Tanner hadn’t gotten where he was today by giving in to impulse. No, everything about his life was about control. He’d learned the hard way what a lack of power did to a person, how it demeaned them—rendered them helpless victims. The helpless had no respect in this world. Pity, yes. But he’d had his fill of pity and well-meaning intentions. Now he commanded respect in all walks of his life.

“You play beautifully,” Belinda said, her voice hesitant, as if she sensed the power play going on inside him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I guess I’m too used to the disruptions and noise of the hospital. The quiet, of all things, woke me. A bit later I heard you on the piano. Did your meeting with Manu go well?”

“Yes, everything’s organised. Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can have them rerouted to another property if necessary.”

“Luc, when I couldn’t get back to sleep I started to think about a few things, and to be honest, as terrifying as it is, I have to get back into my old life if I’m going to move forward. I can’t turn back time and see what happened before, but I can’t stay stagnant like this, either. It’s driving me crazy. Everything around me—” she waved her arm to encapsulate the room “—it’s all new, yet sometimes familiar at the same time. Even the music you played. I know you’ve played it for me before, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

Luc swallowed. Yes, he’d played it for her before. The last time had been the night he’d proposed. They’d spent a day out on the estate together, made love together for the first time on the riverbank during a picnic—his body tightened in remembrance of her welcoming embrace, at how she’d uninhibitedly given herself fully to him. He’d instantly become addicted to her in a way he’d never imagined possible.

He’d never wanted anyone or anything in his life as much as he wanted her. The truth had frightened him until he’d persuaded himself it was because she was the perfect accompaniment to the world he’d built. He couldn’t have been thinking of anything else. By the time they’d driven back to the house, he’d decided to step up his plans and propose to her earlier than he’d anticipated. He still remembered the surge of triumph when she’d said yes.

They’d fallen to the floor, right here in this sitting room, and made love again to seal their betrothal. All she’d worn for the next twenty-four hours had been the blue diamond engagement ring he’d had made for her months earlier.

“Will you play something else for me now?” Belinda’s voice dragged him back from the past.

“Another time,” he said, rising from the piano bench and grabbing his cane.

He offered her his hand to pull her to her feet, and they went through to the bedroom together. By the time he’d undressed and was ready for bed she was curled on her side of the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing even.

She’d fallen asleep after all. But as he slid between the cool cotton of the sheets, she rolled over to face him, her blue-grey eyes massive in her heart-shaped face.

“Luc?”

He lifted a hand to smooth away a strand of her hair that fell across her cheek. “Hmmm?”

“What I said before…” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “What I said before about getting back into my old life—I meant every aspect of my old life. Obviously we’re not strangers to each other. Whenever I look at you my body tells me that.”

So she still felt the same inexorable pull between them. Luc suppressed the smile of satisfaction that threatened to spread across his face at her words.

He watched as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, clearly choosing her next words carefully.

“Well, what I mean is…if you want to…y’know. Maybe it’ll help.” Her words faded away into the expanding silence of the room.

Luc traced the curve of her brow, then the sweep of her cheekbone with one finger, before bringing it to rest at the cupid’s bow of her lips. He’d wanted her to come to him willingly and now she had. Something foreign warmed and bloomed deep inside him.

“No,” he said quietly, his negative response surprising even himself.

“You don’t want me?” She sounded hurt and relieved at the same time.

“Oh, I want you. When the time is right we will make love again. But tonight isn’t that time. When we make love it won’t be because you want to remember, but because you do.”

Was that relief in her eyes or disappointment? He leaned forward and took her lips gently with his own, holding back the beast that clawed within him to plunder their generous softness. As much as it tormented him, he would wait.

She sighed softly against his lips. “Good night, Luc.”

She rolled over to her other side, and Luc curved his arm around her, pulling her in close against the hardness of his body. He felt her stiffen as the evidence of his arousal nestled along the crease of her buttocks, then felt her relax into him as the truth of his obvious desire for her sank in, secure in the knowledge his rejection of her wasn’t because he didn’t want her.

He lay there for hours, his eyes burning in the dark as she slid into a deep sleep. Her body shaped to his. His instincts screamed to take her and brand her his once more. It would be the ultimate satisfaction, when she remembered everything, for her to know she hadn’t been able to resist him. But he’d meant what he’d said before. When she made love with him again it would be because she remembered what their lovemaking had been like, how it had become a compulsion neither of them could deny. How they’d both resented everything that had come between their opportunities to be alone together. If he could do anything in his power to encourage that memory, he would.

The intense satisfying physicality of their relationship had been an unexpected bonus. An indicator, of sorts, that he’d been right all along when he’d decided to make Belinda Wallace his wife and mistress of Tautara Lodge. His life—his plan—would carry on as before. The hiccup of their accident would fade into a minor blip on the radar of his success.