A Spanish Passion. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ the pillow, watching him with those come-bed-me eyes.

      He hadn’t thought. He hadn’t damn well thought of anything but his driving need to claim what was his by right, the heaven he’d stoically denied himself for so long! The dam had finally burst and he’d tumbled mindlessly with the flow. And if his opinion had been asked at the start of it he’d have probably said that the ‘goer’ had to be well protected.

      Having his back to her successfully hid his sharp wince of shattering self-loathing. Irresponsibly, he might have fathered a child. And for all he knew she might not even want to think about motherhood for several years. Was the possibility that he might have selfishly impregnated her the only reason she’d given in and changed her mind about leaving him?

      And if the pregnancy scare proved to be unfounded, would she change her mind right back again and walk out on him as last night she’d unequivocally stated that she fully intended to?

      Unwilling right now to inspect how he’d feel in that eventuality, Javier tightened his jaw and bit out, ‘I’ll see you at breakfast.’ He reached the door in rapid strides, adding heavily, ‘We need to talk things out fully and clear-headedly—away from your bed. Without sex to muddy the waters.’

      His grim tone shook her rigid, closing up her throat. And what he’d said—did he still, in the privacy of his thoughts, name her as a whore by inclination? Her uninhibited behaviour last night, the way she’d given him unlimited access to her body, encouraging him every inch of the way, would have hammered that impression all the way home.

      She stared at the door he had just closed behind him, tears welling in her eyes. The glittering prize, her acceptance as his true wife, her place in his life as the mother of the children she desperately hoped to give him turned into a handful of ashes, slipping through her fingers.

      She shouldn’t have mentioned the possibility of pregnancy. It had been a flip, thoughtless comment, tossed out to cover the fact that she’d been over the moon and practically speechless with happiness when he’d so strongly vetoed divorce.

      He might have lusted after her, enjoyed the sex, but he wasn’t in love with her, not yet, she knew that. And he would hate the responsibility if she’d come out with the truth and confessed that she’d always loved him and always would.

      He took his responsibilities seriously, he was that kind of man—as evidenced by the way he’d suggested a paper marriage in the first place—so she couldn’t land that on him, she decided miserably, forcing herself to leave the bed where she’d been so ecstatically happy, so hopeful about the wonderful future she and Javier would have together, so confident that she could in time teach him to love her as much as he’d learned to want her.

      Clarity came when she turned off the shower and huddled into a towel. He hadn’t ruled a divorce out of play because he wanted her permanently in his life—he was simply sticking to his original dateline.

      Two years. They’d stay married for one more year, until she came into her inheritance and could demonstrate that she was mature enough to handle it. By his own admission he was deeply ashamed of having made love to her. No—having had sex with her— ‘muddied the waters’, she corrected dully as she finally exited the en suite. And he’d probably make damn sure it didn’t happen again. He’d go back to what he had been: remote, often absent, impersonally kind. She simply didn’t think she could bear that!

      Was she the last woman on earth he would choose to be the mother of his children? Had he seen the steel jaws of a trap close around him when she’d mentioned the word ‘pregnant’?

      Her balloon well and truly pricked, Zoe put on the act of her life and went down to breakfast wearing a tiny pair of lemon yellow shorts, a skimpy, silky camisole top in a matching shade and a great big smile.

      Javier laid aside the morning broadsheet he’d been trying and failing to concentrate on, his wide chest tightening as his eyes locked onto his wife. She was exquisite; she put the sunlight that streamed into the room to shame. A truly vital presence, all silky, endless legs, shining silver-gilt hair, breasts enticingly peaked against the top she was wearing.

      He got to his feet, narrowed eyes watching as she returned Boysie’s ecstatic greeting, pulling out a chair for her when those long legs brought her to the breakfast table. She was wearing hot pink lipstick on those lush, kiss-swollen lips. His pulses quickened. He ignored them and poured her coffee.

      ‘Eat something,’ he ordered as the slice of toast she’d buttered was being cut into small pieces and fed to the dog. Had her appetite deserted her because she was fretting over the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy?

      Again he mentally flayed himself. He had hated the things Sherman had implied, but hated himself even more for having been unable to stop believing them. Which had led, in turn, to his inexcusable lack of protection.

      ‘We need to discuss our situation.’ Self-disgust put an edge on his voice, made her soft lips tremble before she clamped them forcibly together. She fed the last of the toast to the tail-thrashing bunch of fur then turned to face him, pushing her hair away from her face with the back of a slender hand, her magnificent eyes flashing with the old rebellion, the slender bones of her shoulders tense beneath the shimmery fabric of the top she was wearing.

      He sounded as if he thoroughly regretted their ‘situation’, as he so grimly named it, Zoe decided sinkingly. It was truly terrible to love to distraction when the object of all that emotional passion didn’t love you back, to have all your hopes of happiness and fulfilment dependent on just one man.

      But she wasn’t going to let him know what she was feeling. Still holding his silver-smoke eyes, she lifted her chin even higher just as Joe entered the room, grinning. ‘Pardon me, boss, but it’s time for his lordship’s morning walk. We usually go up through the woods and on down to the lake.’ He gave a low whistle and Boysie pricked up his ears and raced to the man in the doorway, his small body one huge hairy wag.

      ‘I’ll take him—’ Zoe was half out of her seat, unreasonable jealousy that her dog now recognised Joe as the leader of the pack making her voice shrill.

      But Javier’s hand reached out to clamp around her wrist, forcing her back, his, ‘Carry on, Joe,’ full of raw impatience.

      Rubbing her released wrist, Zoe glared at him, trying not to burst into tears. Not because of Boysie’s fickleness—if she was honest with herself she was glad the little stray had finally integrated into his new home and family. It had taken ages before he had stopped viewing Ethel with suspicion and even longer before he had been comfortable around Joe.

      No, it was Javier’s attitude that was breaking her heart. Last night she had felt as if they had at last found each other, their hearts and souls recognising each other just as their bodies had, and this morning it would seem that he wished he’d never set eyes on her!

      ‘I always take him for walks. That’s when you bother to turn up to bring me down here at weekends!’ Zoe knew she sounded petulant and childish. But she had to say something to explain away the sudden tears she could feel filling up her eyes. No way was she about to let him know that his patently obvious impatience with her and their cataclysmic unplanned change of marital situation was making her want to cry her eyes out!

      Javier leaned forward, his forearms on the table, a frown scoring a deep line between his slashing black brows. Judging by her reaction to her pet’s preference for Joe’s company, the poor kid was still needy, clinging onto love wherever she found it. ‘Let it go,’ he advised a touch more curtly than he’d intended before the image of how unchildlike she’d СКАЧАТЬ