Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion: Claiming His Runaway Bride / High-Stakes Passion. Yvonne Lindsay

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      “You look beautiful in anything. Come. Manu has set the table for us on our deck so we can enjoy the summer evening while it lasts.”

      Belinda followed him through to the living room and out the open French doors. Burning tapers attached to the deck lit a table set with white linen and gleaming silverware. Heated chafing dishes sat on a smaller table to one side, alongside them a colourful tossed salad. For a moment she felt as though she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

      Everything was magically perfect—the setting, the darkened valley with the peppering of lights from the far distant Taupo township on its periphery. Even the gentle strains of her favourite opera piped through the ceiling-mounted speakers in the eaves over the deck. It was almost surreal, but the aromas from the chafing dishes gave her a reality check. Not even in her dreams had she smelled anything so divine.

      “I told Manu we’d serve ourselves tonight,” Luc said, slipping back the cover on one of the dishes to expose tiny gourmet potatoes garnished with fresh chopped chives and handing Belinda a gold-rimmed plate.

      Her experienced eye recognised the pattern of the fine imported china. Was it one they’d chosen together, or was it just a normal part of Luc’s everyday life?

      “You’re frowning. Trying to remember again?” Luc’s voice cut across her thoughts.

      “I recognise this china. Did we choose it?”

      Surprise flitted through his eyes, but was swiftly veiled before he spoke. “Yes, we did. You helped me outfit most of our suite before the wedding. It was important to you.”

      And he’d encouraged her, she was sure of it. She had a sense that he’d been prepared to do anything to keep her here—to make Tautara Estate her home as much as it was indelibly his.

      “I know.” She hesitated a moment, then continued. “I don’t remember, but in here—” she pressed her hand against her chest “—I know.”

      Luc didn’t speak straightaway, but Belinda couldn’t help but notice the sudden tension in his shoulders or the way his eyebrows drew together. Eventually he spoke. “That’s excellent. You’re making great progress.”

      Did his hand shake ever so slightly as he dished up for them both? Chiding herself for being fanciful, she applied herself to savouring the grilled trout fillets drizzled with a subtly herbed sauce, baby potatoes and fresh salad greens with the rest of their bottle of wine. It had been so long since she’d had anything with such delicate flavour. If she never tasted a bite of hospital food again it would be too soon. They ate in comparative silence, a silence that could have been awkward but for the beauty of the velvet-dark vista spread out before them.

      “It’s so beautiful here.” She sighed. “How do you ever tear yourself away?”

      “Sometimes business requires it. For the most part I’m more than happy to remain here. Tautara Estate comprises 6,500 hectares. There’s always plenty to do.” He smiled as Belinda fought back a yawn. “Why don’t we call it a night? You’ve had a tiring day, and I have to admit I could use the rest myself.”

      “Your leg is sore?” Belinda felt a sudden surge of guilt.

      “No more than usual,” Luc replied with a wave of his hand, dismissing her care.

      “Is there anything I can do for you?”

      Luc’s lips firmed into a straight line and she sensed rather than heard his sigh.

      “No. Just be yourself,” he replied enigmatically.

      What did he mean by that, she wondered, catching the inside of her lip between her teeth as she bit back the words that would ask him precisely that. Be herself. Right now she’d give anything to know what version of “herself” he meant.

      Luc leaned heavily on his cane as he stood to get up from the table. She caught the fleeting grimace of pain he swiftly tried to mask.

      Was this the way it had always been between them? Him hiding his true feelings and thoughts? She couldn’t imagine that she’d have fallen in love with or married a man who was so closed to her emotionally. It just wasn’t her style. Her family had always been demonstrative, affectionate. They shared their worries and concerns between them—a problem shared is halved, her father always said.

      Did she and Luc have that kind of marriage? Something inside her whispered to the contrary, and the inner voice was distinctly unsettling.

      Five

      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.

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