Wife To A Stranger. Daphne Clair

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       CHAPTER THREE

      HIS lips touched hers, sure and firm but not demanding, lingering only moments before he moved away. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

      A smart little hatchback runabout occupied the other space in the garage. Rolfe said. ‘That’s yours. You probably shouldn’t drive for a few days, though.’ He took both bags from the car and put a hand on her waist to lead her to the house. Inside, she stood in a wide, terracotta-tiled hallway and looked about. ‘How long have we lived here?’

      ‘Two years,’ Rolfe said matter-of-factly. ‘Since we were married.’

      She swallowed a dismaying desire to turn and flee. She’d been married to this man for two years, yet she knew nothing about him. Except that he was doing his best to cope with a situation that must be as difficult for him as it was for her. ‘I…’ She gazed around again, helplessly. ‘It’s not…familiar.’ The disappointment was sickening. She’d been sure that once she was home everything would fall into place. But this didn’t feel like home.

      Rolfe touched her arm. ‘I’ll show you…the bedroom. Maybe you’d like to rest for a while.’

      ‘I am tired,’ she admitted. ‘Although I seem to have slept a lot today.’ Her skin felt stretched, her eyes heavy.

      He ushered her into a spacious room overlooking the sea. The carpet was deep turquoise, the furniture white with touches of gold, the sumptuous cover on the double bed patterned in several shades of blue and green.

      Most of the wall facing the ocean was tinted glass. Sliding doors opened onto a broad tiled terrace under the roof of the house, and a huge sloping archway outside the room framed the sea.

      ‘It’s a glorious view,’ she said.

      ‘Yes.’ He had put down the plastic bag that she thought of as holding all her worldly possessions. ‘Can I get you a drink or something? Make you a coffee?’

      ‘No, thanks. I think I’ll lie down for a while.’

      ‘Sure.’ He paused. Evidently sensing her nervous tension, he touched her cheek with his hand, the thumb rubbing gently over her skin, waking a tiny tremor of sensuous response deep within her. ‘It’ll be all right, Capri,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing here to frighten you.’ He dropped his hand. ‘Have a good rest. I’ll be around if you need anything. Just yell.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She watched him leave, still carrying his bag. He closed the door and she stood feeling lost. Hesitantly she approached the long dressing-table against one wall, touched a rather ornate gold-decorated hand-mirror lying on the white surface, and lifted a cutglass perfume bottle, removing the stopper to sniff it. It was the same scent as the one Rolfe had bought her before they left Australia. Spicy, faintly earthy—a very sexy perfume. ‘Your favourite,’ he’d said.

      Turning, she opened a door and found a walk-in wardrobe filled with clothes. She touched some of the garments, moved them along on their hangers. They were all her size, colours that suited her. Most of them looked expensive. Easily thirty pairs of shoes sat neatly in pairs along the floor. It seemed an awful lot.

      Fingering a peacock-blue silk dress, she frowned. Rolfe was presumably quite well-off. He had a thriving business, and this house in its exclusive coastal enclave was certainly not cheap real estate.

      Perhaps she had come from more modest circumstances? Where had they met? She must ask him later.

      Nothing here had triggered her elusive memory, and her shoulders drooped as she left the wardrobe and opened another door into a white and turquoise bathroom.

      Here too the floor was carpeted. There was a roomy glass-fronted shower, a marble bathtub almost big enough for two, and all the taps were large and goldplated.

      Seeing another door on the opposite side of the bathroom, she tapped on the panels and opened it on a bedroom identical to the one she’d СКАЧАТЬ