The Price of a Wife

by Helen Brooks

  'Now who's being ridiculous?' she asked tightly as she took hold of herself. Losing her temper had been a mistake, a grave mistake, she realised as she looked into the silver-grey eyes that were examining her face. 'I told you before— you are making a mystery where none exists.'

  'But you lie, Josie Owens.' He stepped back from her now, folding powerful arms across his chest, and in spite of herself a shiver flickered down her spine in response to the utter maleness of him. 'It's sad but true.'

  She disgraced herself further by muttering something very rude that had the black eyebrows rising in sardonic disapproval as he shook his head again, more to annoy her than anything else, she thought waspily. 'Come on,' he said suddenly. 'Enough of this riveting repartee, entertaining though it is. A swim is just what you need.' He took her arm, drawing her into his side as he did so.

  It was useless to protest, and she found herself almost carried along by the momentum of his tall, hard body as he whisked her up to the chateau, not stopping until he had deposited her outside her room. With a deep sigh, he looked down into her breathless face. 'You axe going to change into one of the costumes Josephine has so kindly bought for you,' he said expressionlessly, 'and come with me to the pool. If you defy me…' He paused and allowed a twist of his lips that might have passed for a smile if the circumstances had been different. 'I shall come in and undress you myself. OK?'

  'You wouldn't dare,' she muttered weakly. 'Not even you.'

  'Wrong.' This time the smile was definitely dangerous. 'Quite wrong, my little red-haired sprite, but I won't object if you put me to the test.' He let his eyes run down her slender shape in a mockingly lewd appraisal. 'No, I can promise you that at least,' he said with a lazy thoughtfulness that sent shivers flickering through her again.

  She gave him one last glare, opened the door and flounced inside, banging it hard behind her. It was childish but she just couldn't help it, she thought angrily.

  She was just preparing to walk over to the horribly expensive-looking bags that took up the whole of the sofa in the small sitting room when a knock sounded on the door, and in the next moment Luke had opened it, amusement etched in every line of his rugged face. 'Yours, I think?' He handed her the briefcase and folder, gave a mocking bow and turned to leave, giving one last parting shot as he did so. 'I will see you at the pool in exactly ten minutes,' he said over his shoulder. 'OK?'

  Once he had left, and she was alone, she examined the contents of the bags, which all had exclusive designer names and contents to match. 'He must have spent a fortune,' she mumbled helplessly to herself as she shook out first one, then another, then another beautifully made garment.

  There were four bikinis in all, each with matching sarong, shirt and trousers and all quite exquisite. She sat gazing at them for a full minute, her mind racing as she told herself she couldn't possibly accept them, and then she realised with a start of panic that five minutes had elapsed since Luke had left.

  She gathered up the nearest bikini—a dainty creation in vivid green silk with soft swirls of mauve and blue—and the corresponding shirt and trousers, and raced into the bedroom, stripping off her clothes and donning the new ones in a fever of fumbling fingers that just wouldn't obey her. She looped her hair into a high knot on the top of her head, glancing at herself in the mirror as she did so and then freezing at the sight of the reflection that stared back at her.

  That old saying, 'clothes maketh the man' has a lot going for it, she thought in stunned amazement, or in this case 'maketh the woman'. The loose trousers and open shirt were beautiful and looted as though they had been made for her, deepening the colour of her eyes to a soft, glowing gold in which the flecks of green stood out with a luminescent quality that highlighted her clear, creamy skin and delicate colouring.

  A minute to go. She suddenly came out of her trance and reached for a pair of low backless sandals before leaping across the room and out of the door as though the devil himself were after her. She didn't doubt for a moment that Luke was quite capable of following through on his outrageous threat, and although she was changed now, and quite decent, she didn't want to be alone with him in such intimate surroundings. In fact she didn't Want to be alone with him at all, she thought ruefully. He seemed to have the knack of making her do exactly what she didn't want to do.

  When she reached the pool area she thought at first that Luke wasn't there, until he called her name from where he was stretched out in idle relaxation on a cushioned sun lounger, his hands behind his head and dark glasses shading his eyes from the sun's powerful rays.

  'A minute or two late, but I won't hold that against you.' He took the glasses off as he spoke, and then became quite still in much the same way she had a few moments earlier. 'You look beautiful,' he said softly. 'Very beautiful. Those colours suit you.'

  'Thank you.' She was suddenly very conscious of the open shirt revealing the bikini top as his eyes lingered for a moment on the soft swell of her breasts against the silk, and was then absolutely mortified as she felt her body respond to the heavy-lidded stare.

  She jerked the loose folds of cloth around her middle as she plumped down on the sun lounger next to his, but her breasts were still straining against the thin material, their points hard and aroused as the hot tide of sensation she had no defence against washed over her in waves of awareness. 'I— It's still very warm,' she muttered weakly, hoping he would attribute the heat in her cheeks to the sun's golden rays.

  'Yes, it is.' She glanced at him then. His tone had been gentle, tender almost, with none of the caustic mockery of the afternoon. 'Have you put any suncream on?' he asked softly.

  'What?' For a moment his words didn't register over the panicky beating of her heart, and then she took a deep breath and prayed for composure. 'Oh, no, no, I haven't, but it's nearly half past five. The sun won't be a problem now, will it?'

  'In July the sun still burns out here until dusk,' he said quietly, 'but I have some here for you.' He reached by the side of his lounger and lifted a bottle, unscrewing the cap as he did so. 'Take the shirt and trousers off,' he said calmly, 'and I'll rub some on.'

  He'd do what? The blood rushed and pounded in her ears, but the knowledge that she had already made a fool of herself in more ways than one that day gave her the strength to slip out of the clothes with a casual elegance that suggested she was used to near-naked men rubbing her with oil every day of the week. She lay face-down on the lounger, gritting her teeth as she nerved herself for his touch.

  Her skin was hot but his hands were slow and cool as he smoothed the first drops of lotion into her tense back, his touch rhythmic and deliberately caressing. She wanted, she really wanted to remain oblivious to what his nearness and the slow, stroking action of his hands were doing to her, but it was no good. Even with her eyes tightly closed and her lips pressed together, little trickles of fire were flowing under his skilful fingers, creating havoc wherever they ran— and they were running pretty far, she thought desperately as her lower stomach began a dull throbbing that was both pain and pleasure.

  He took his time working the sun-warmed liquid into every inch of her back, and by the time he had finished she felt fluid beneath his subtle fingers, the world closing in until it was just the two of them in the golden darkness behind her closed lids.

  When he began on the sensitive silky skin of her upper legs she almost moaned out loud, before biting her lip so hard that it hurt, his sensual stroking of her soft flesh more voluptuous than she could ever have imagined. How did he know? she asked herself helplessly as waves of mingled pleasure and desire had every nerve-end pulsing. How did he know exactly where to touch her to make her flesh quiver? She couldn't stand it, not without giving herself away. She just couldn't…

  The caress moved slowly to the delicate, tender area behind her knees, and she was unable to suppress the slight moan which his fingers drew forth. The lazy eroticism was shockingly sweet, and although she knew it was a cleverly planned strategy, another ploy he had no doub
t used many times before with equal effect, she was helpless to prevent what it was doing to her body.

  He had risen from his kneeling position at her side to sit on the edge of the lounger at some time during the proceedings, and now, as he tent and stretched across her pliant form, on the pretext of smoothing more lotion into the vulnerable area at the back of her neck, she became aware that he was hugely aroused.

  This was fire. She was playing with fire. All the warnings were there but, blanketed by a wave of desire so strong, she had no defence against it.

  'Right, turn over…' His voice was thick and husky and she shivered at the sound of it. He was breathing hard and she knew, without opening her eyes, that he was willing her to open herself to him. And she wanted to…

  The thought should have shocked her out of the sensual lethargy that had taken hold but it didn't. She wanted him. She might regret it bitterly in the days ahead—in fact it was almost a sure-fire bet, she thought dizzily—but at this moment in time all she wanted was for his hands and mouth to continue the magic his touch had already created.

  'Josie, turn over…'

  And it was just as she began to move, her eyes opening the merest crack, that Madame Marat's weighty voice cut into the moment like a knife through butter. 'Monsieur?'

  The area where Luke had positioned the sun loungers was in a semi-circle completely surrounded by flowering bushes, which was why she had been unable to see him when she had first arrived. The pattern was repeated at intervals round the pool's edge, and they were completely hidden from the housekeeper's view. Nevertheless, Josie shot back as though she had been burned, her face scarlet, as Luke swore once, very explicitly, before straightening.

  'Yes?' His voice was cold.

  'Pardon, monsieur.' There followed a spate of words in rapid French before Luke stood up slowly, after wrapping a towel around his lean hips.

  'I'll be there shortly.' Josie heard the sound of Madame Marat's large feet clicking away, but she hadn't opened her eyes throughout the conversation and didn't now. 'I have an urgent call from the States I've been waiting for,' Luke said softly to her rigid back. 'I won't be long.'

  'Fine.' Her voice was muffled against the cushions and there was a moment's silence before he spoke again.

  'Josie—'

  'Please. Go and take the call.' She still kept her hot face buried, and it wasn't until she heard him pad away that she dared move.

  How could she? How could she have come so near to—? To what? she asked herself faintly. Probably just a kiss. He had probably only wanted a kiss. But then she shook her head at her own naivety. Men like Luke Hawkton didn't stop at a kiss in a situation like the one they had been in and she knew it.

  She was stupid. So, so stupid. How could she have succumbed to such an obvious seduction attempt? she asked herself blindly as burning humiliation set her whole body aflame. But it had failed. More through luck than judgement, she admitted painfully as she swung her legs over the lounger and put her head in her hands. Nevertheless, it had failed. And she would make sure it wasn't repeated.

  By the time Luke returned she was in the pool enjoying some serious swimming, the silky water cooling her body and bringing reason where madness had prevailed.

  'You swim very well.' He stood at the side of the pool looking down at her in the water, his dark face smiling, and she forced herself to respond lightly, as though neither of them was aware of what had so nearly happened.

  'My father taught me at a very early age. In view of our fishing expeditions he considered it essential that I could at least stay afloat if the boat overturned.'

  'You do more than stay afloat,' he said approvingly, before diving into the blue depths himself, his lean, powerful body cutting through the water effortlessly as he came to her side. She had half expected him to follow up on his advantage, but he made no move to touch her, merely swimming at her side as they covered lap after lap of the massive pool, his muscled shoulders tanned and dark.

  She tired long before he did, climbing out of the pool and pulling the shirt and trousers on over her damp bikini before she lay down on the sun-warmed lounger. The evening was scented and warm as it closed about her in a drowsy comfort that made her limbs heavy.

  She must have slept, although she wasn't aware of it until a firm, warm mouth closed over hers, bringing her awake in an instant, and she jerked up so suddenly that the top of her head caught Luke a resounding bang on his chin.

  'Ow…' He rubbed his jaw ruefully, flinging himself down on the lounger next to her and turning on one elbow to look into her flushed face. 'Do you always react like that when you're kissed?' he asked with a wry smile.

  'Not always.' Her voice was uncertain, breathless, and she heard it with a stab of contempt. That was not the way to handle a man like Luke, but unfortunately the flush that had begun at the bottom of her feet had now reached her face, and all because she couldn't tear her eyes away from the flagrantly male body in front of her. Droplets of water were lingering on the brown skin, giving his body the texture of oiled silk, and the big frame was perfectly honed and lean, without an ounce of fat to be seen.

  'In that case could we try again?' he said softly as he stood up.

  'Luke—'

  'Just a kiss, nothing more.' He pulled her up against him, feeling her tense in his arms, but his mouth was light on hers, the kiss fleeting, and perversely, even though she knew it was crazy, it left her wanting more. Which was probably part of the strategy, she thought tensely as he put her from him with a slight sigh, reaching for his robe on the lounger. 'It wasn't planned, you know…'

  'What?' She watched him warily as he pulled the robe on and tightened the belt with a force that spoke of concealed frustration.

  'Earlier.' He flicked his damp head at the lounger at her feet. 'You've been thinking it was a devious plan to have my wicked way with you, haven't you?'

  'No!'

  In spite of her vehemence he smiled crookedly, his eyes narrowing. 'Don't ever play poker, Josie—you'd lose the shirt off your back.' He took her arm and they left the pool area, his hand warm under her elbow. 'Mind you, you are right in thinking I want you,' he said conversationally as they walked back towards the house.

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'And don't act as if it's new to you.' He looked down at her, dainty and tiny at his side. 'In fact, if I'm being honest—and I'm always honest in situations like these—I can't remember when I've wanted a woman more than I want you.'

  'Am I supposed to feel flattered?' she asked tightly. 'Because if so I can tell you that the thought of being another number in your little black book doesn't appeal.'

  'I don't have one.' He stopped and drew her round to face him as he grasped her other elbow. 'I mean I really don't have one. I don't know what you've been hearing about me—'

  'Red Riding Hood and her long-toothed friend?' she suggested flatly. 'Something along those lines? And don't act as if it's new to you,' she added with a heavy dose of sarcasm, 'because you must know that people talk.'

  'I've always treated that as an occupational hazard until now,' he said grimly. 'I don't care who has told you what, but there are certain rules I adhere to both in my personal life and in business, OK? I'm always totally honest about what I want, I never welch on a deal and I never play anyone for a monkey. Do you believe that?'

  'I—' The dusk air was sweet and heavy and perfumed with a thousand summer scents, and in spite of herself she felt the insidious power that he held draw her to him. It didn't help that the water had allowed his hair, short as it was, to curl slightly, giving his harsh face a softer, more boyish look that was totally at odds with everything she knew about him. 'Do you have your hair so short because it tends to curl?' she asked suddenly, as the thought occurred to her, the words popping out of her mouth before she could hold them back.

  'What?' The silver eyes narrowed in blank astonishment. His hair was clearly the last topic he had expected to discuss.

  'Your hair.' She reached
up and touched a tiny wave before she realised how intimate the gesture was and jerked her hand away sharply. 'It looks quite different tonight.'

  He gazed down at her for a full ten seconds before a small smile touched the hard line of his lips. 'It does curl,' he admitted, with a faintly sheepish air that did something crazy to her heartbeat. 'I've been trying to beat it since I was a boy. John and I used to get teased unmercifully at school, and we persuaded our mother to let us have it cut shorter than was the fashion then. I guess it's become a habit to have it short. Why? Don't you like it?' he added intently, the smile gone.

  'Of course. It suits you,' she said hastily, wishing she had never brought the subject up as she turned and continued walking again, Luke falling into step by her side and suiting his long stride to her smaller one. But at least it had defused what had had the potential of being an acutely embarrassing moment.

  He hadn't needed to tell her he wanted her; she knew that, she thought bleakly. But wanting wasn't loving—or even liking, she corrected quickly, horrified at the way her thoughts had swung. She didn't want Luke to love her, of course she didn't, she affirmed quietly in her mind, but mutual respect and friendship had its place in an intimate relationship, surely? Or else the human race were little better than animals.

  She wished she hadn't come here. As they reached the house, still without exchanging another word, the thought was hot and fierce in her mind. He lived in a different world from her, with different values, rules, principles… But then even if he hadn't, even if he'd been a perfectly ordinary man who was looking for more than a casual affair, what difference would it have made? Either way it was no go, for her.

  She glanced at him, smiling her thanks as he held the door open for her to walk into the house, and she recognised hunger in the silver-grey eyes. She turned away quickly. No, she shouldn't have come, but she had had no choice. All she could do now was be strong. She had been strong for the last thirteen years; it shouldn't be so very difficult now…