Gemma raised her eyes back to his, wondering how she could have misjudged him so appallingly in the past. How had she wasted her precious youth on shallow young men who had wanted her for her body and her money but not for who she really was? How had she been so blind to Andreas’s highly principled and good and decent nature, ridiculing and rejecting him instead of valuing him as she should have done?
‘I’m sorry…’ She captured her bottom lip again. If he only knew what she was really apologising for!
His thumbs moved over her wrists in a back-and-forth motion that sent shivers of reaction through her body. His touch was so gentle she felt like a bruised bloom he had stooped down to pick up from the pavement, cradling it in his hand as if it were the most precious orchid in the world.
She looked into his warm brown eyes and glimpsed for a moment what she had so callously thrown away.
‘Andreas…’ His name was a breath of sound on her lips.
The shutters came down instantly and he let his hands fall from hers. ‘I need to clean this up,’ he said, turning back to the mess on the floor. ‘I do not want Susanne to have any more reasons to insult you.’
Gemma made a move to help, but he waved her away with a dismissive hand. ‘I will be quicker on my own,’ he insisted. ‘Besides—’ his gaze flicked to her leg for a moment ‘—you need to rest your leg. You have been standing up for too long as it is.’
‘But I—’
‘Just do as I say, Gemma.’ His tone brooked no resistance. ‘One tumble on this slippery mess and you will not be able to give me what I want.’
But I can’t give you what you want. She heard the words in her head but turned away before she was tempted to let them out.
Just a little while longer…
Then somehow she would find the courage to tell him.
CHAPTER NINE
ONCE the removal company had collected Gemma’s things as arranged late the following morning she waited for Andreas to collect her for the ceremony.
She had dressed in a simple lightweight suit in a soft shade of pink, with a matching camisole top, and low-heeled sandals. She’d washed and dried her hair and carefully arranged it so it disguised her scar, applying just the right amount of make-up to make her feel a little less exposed.
Right on the dot of two-thirty Andreas arrived and, sweeping his dark gaze over her as she let him in, remarked, ‘You look very beautiful, Gemma.’
‘For a girl with a limp,’ she responded deprecatingly before she could stop herself.
He paused from closing the door to look down at her. ‘For your information, I hardly notice your limp. Personally, I have always considered outward beauty to be totally worthless unless it is backed up by inward grace.’
Gemma had no answer. She had hated the ugliness of her soul for so long and had tried so hard to change, but yesterday’s little show of uncontrollable temper had made her realise there was still more work to be done.
‘This is for you,’ he said, handing her a small package. ‘Happy birthday.’
Gemma stared at the neatly wrapped slim rectangle he’d placed in her hands. She had not expected anyone to give her anything, and certainly not Andreas. It had been many years since she had celebrated her birthday; mostly she tried to ignore the date as it came around each year, unwilling to acknowledge the painful memories it evoked.
‘Go on, open it,’ he said.
Gemma untied the little ribbon and picked at the sellotape ineffectually with her short fingernails, her hands not as steady as she wanted them to be.
‘Do you need some help, mia piccola?’
She glanced up at him, surprised yet again at how dark and warm his eyes were as they connected with hers. ‘I—I think I can manage…I need to grow my nails…’
He took one of her hands and inspected the ragged edges, the warmth of his fingers around hers stirring her deep and low in her belly.
‘You have beautiful hands, Gemma, but you are punishing them.’ His thumb gently caressed the torn edge of one of her cuticles. ‘You should not hate yourself so much.’
Gemma could barely breathe as he held her gaze. Her chest felt as if it were being slowly filled up with an inflatable substance, leaving no room for her lungs to expand.
‘Here—’he took the package from her other hand ‘—I will open it for you.’
She watched as he deftly removed the wrapping and handed the velvet box back to her. She opened it to find a diamond pendant on an exquisitely fine gold chain, resting on its bed of blue velvet the colour of her eyes.
‘It’s…beautiful…thank you…’ Her voice came out husky, a slow, seeping warmth consuming her at the thought of him taking the time to choose such an exquisite gift for her.
‘I am glad you like it. Perhaps you would like to wear it now. Here, allow me to help you. The catch is very fine.’
Gemma turned as he placed the pendant around her neck, her skin lifting as his fingers touched the sensitive area beneath her hair as he fastened the clasp.
He turned her back to face him and smiled. ‘It suits you. I knew it would.’
Gemma wanted to ask him what he meant, but before she could get the words out he glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘We cannot be late for our own wedding,’ he said as he led the way to the door. ‘That indeed would be unthinkable.’
The ceremony at the registry office was brief and largely impersonal right up until the celebrant gave Andreas permission to kiss the bride. Suddenly the atmosphere changed. Gemma could feel the build-up of tension in the air as Andreas turned towards her, his dark eyes meshing with hers as his hands went to her slim shoulders.
She held her breath as he bent his head to press a soft but lingering kiss to her mouth. She felt her love for him begin to fill her, making her chest swell as it tried to contain the breadth and width of it. She had tried her best to ignore her changing feelings, but they had resisted all of her attempts to suppress them. They flowed through her like a tide of warm water over cold river stones, heating her from the inside out. Her skin came alive at his touch, her mouth burned with the need to feel his deeper possession and her lower body started to pound with need.
He lifted his head and held her gaze for a lengthy moment, as if he was searching her soul for secrets. The pad of his thumb pressed at an escaping tear she hadn’t been able to control in time, his tender touch sending more in its place.
‘Do not cry, Gemma,’ he said in a deep, slightly gruff tone.
‘Sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I’m not usually so soppy; it’s just…I wish my father had been here.’
‘Oh, cara,’ he said, bringing her head to his chest. ‘I am sure he is watching and congratulating us both.’
Gemma reluctantly eased herself away to look up at him, acutely aware of the interested gazes of the witnesses and celebrant standing nearby. ‘I guess you’re right,’ she said in a lowered tone. ‘At least he would have approved of you as a husband for me.’
‘Even if I was not your first choice, but in fact your very last?’
Gemma wished she could tell him how much she regretted those dreadful words she’d said to him all those years ago. But until the money was in Rachel’s bank account she had to remain silent. It would take a few days for the transaction to be processed and even then she wasn’t sure if she would have the courage to admit to how she had lied to him.
‘At least you offered to marry me,’ she said with an attempt at dry humour. ‘I had to bribe Michael to agree to go through with it, and even then he pulled out at the last minute. What does a girl close to thirty have to do to get a husband these days?’
There was a tense little silence as Andreas stood looking down at her. Gemma hunted his face, wondering if her glib tone had offended him in some way. ‘Andreas?’
She watched as his chest rose and fell as he released a sigh before he reached for her hand and led her out of the registry office to his car outside. ‘Come, Gemma. You are looking pale and fragile. I do not want t
o start our marriage with you coming down with another migraine.’
Gemma felt a little crushed by his comment. Surely she didn’t look that bad. Or was he subtly reminding her of his magnanimous gesture in coming to her rescue, particularly as she was no longer in robust health?
She waited until they were on their way before she glanced at him resentfully. ‘You didn’t have to do it, you know.’
His eyes met hers briefly. ‘Do what?’
‘Marry me,’ she answered, turning her head away to stare out of the window. ‘I still don’t really understand why you did it.’
‘It suited me to do so,’ he said.
She swung her head back to look at him. ‘I know I’m damaged goods, Andreas, you don’t have to keep reminding me of it.’
His brows moved together over his eyes but he maintained his focus on the traffic. ‘I can see I am going to have to work very hard to elevate your self-esteem. I do not recall at any time referring to you as damaged goods.’
‘But I am, aren’t I?’ She didn’t wait for him to respond as she continued bitterly, ‘There’s no point denying it. You could have married anyone you wanted and you know it.’
‘But you are the one I wanted the most. I have wanted you for ten years.’
For a brief moment hope flickered and then died in her chest. For revenge, Gemma reminded herself. What other motive could there be? He didn’t love her. How could he after what she had done?
‘I told you before I am a patient man, Gemma. I have waited a long time to claim you as my own.’
‘Even though you don’t love me.’
‘Love has nothing to do with the arrangement we have made,’ he said. ‘You needed a legal husband and I need a mother for my future children.’
She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. ‘What if I’m not ready to have children just yet?’
‘It will happen when it is meant to happen,’ he said.
Gemma looked ahead once more. What if it proved impossible? How many failed attempts would it take for him to leave her? IVF wasn’t always successful and he might not even agree to it once he realised how she had deceived him.
‘And if we don’t succeed?’ she dropped into the heavy silence that had fallen between them.
He parked his car in his driveway before answering, his dark eyes determined as they caught and held hers. ‘We will succeed, Gemma. I will make sure of it.’
Once they arrived at the house Andreas noticed Gemma looking around nervously for any sign of the housekeeper. He shrugged himself out of his suit jacket, and, tossing it over the banister at the foot of the stairs, informed her, ‘Do not worry. I gave Susanne the afternoon off. She will not be back until Sunday.’
She let a little sigh of relief escape. ‘I wasn’t sure if I was going to be up to another slanging match. I guess I must be a little out of practice.’
‘I think you do quite well for yourself,’ he said with a wry glance towards the dining room.
She gave him a shamefaced look. ‘It won’t happen again. I promise.’
He came up close, tipping up her chin to hold her gaze. ‘You have a passionate nature. I would not want you to change that.’
She ran her tongue across her lips, her heart starting to thump again. ‘Wh-what would you want me to change?’
He gave a slight frown. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I remember enough of my past to recognise I wasn’t always a nice person. Susanne’s reaction confirmed it. But I have changed, Andreas. I have changed in many ways…’
His hand left her chin and was joined by his other on the tops of her shoulders. ‘What has changed you, Gemma? Was it the accident?’
She held his probing gaze, all the while fighting the temptation to confess to him her sordid past. What would he think of her if she told him about her degradation? Would he be privately gloating that she had finally got her comeuppance?
‘I guess I just got tired of being a spoilt brat,’ she said, trying a smile, but it was twisted and sat uncomfortably on her mouth. ‘It’s very hard work being a super bitch, you know. I decided to take long-service leave.’
He smiled at her attempt at humour. ‘And do you plan to return to your previous post as soon as you are rested?’
She shifted her gaze slightly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Because your father is now dead and there would be no point?’
‘Maybe.’ She lifted one slim shoulder in a shrug. ‘Who knows? Perhaps I’ve finally grown up. Everyone has to at some stage. It’s taken me longer than most but that’s the way it turned out.’
Andreas looked at her for a long moment. He couldn’t quite rid himself of the notion that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. She was a skilled performer; he knew that from his own bitter experience. Her little I’m-nothing-like-the-person-I-was-before speech was certainly convincing, but he wasn’t going to give her the benefit of the doubt.
He wanted her pride on a platter and he would have it even if it took him months to get it.
He’d already achieved his primary goal of tying her to him in a marriage she would have scoffed at ten years ago. The stuck up heiress who had made such a fool of him was now his wife.
Apart from her little temper tantrum yesterday she gave every appearance of being a reformed woman, but he wondered how long it would last. She would receive the first instalment from her father’s estate as soon as the arrangements were formalised, and the final balance in six months’ time along with the money from the sale of the hotel. It was in her interests to behave herself in case he put an end to their marriage before the terms of the will were met.
‘We all have to face our adult responsibilities at some point,’ he said into the silence. ‘That is after all why I came back to Australia to fulfil my father’s dream.’
Gemma looked up at him, her voice cracking slightly on the words. ‘Your father would have been very proud of you. You are a nice person, Andreas. A good person.’
He gave her a crooked smile. ‘What a pity you do not remember me. Perhaps I was not so nice back then, eh?’
‘I am sure you were just the same as you are now,’ she said, lowering her gaze to focus on the third button of his shirt. ‘But perhaps I was unable to see it.’
‘I have my bad side too, as do most people.’
‘Maybe…but I have so many regrets.’
‘Do not torture yourself with what cannot be changed, Gemma. You have the rest of your life ahead of you.’
A life without love, she thought sadly. A marriage based on a pack of lies, which she was sure was going to tumble down any time soon.
‘Let us drink a toast to our marriage,’ he suggested.
‘Is it still a valid toast if it’s not alcoholic?’ she asked him.
‘Of course it is,’ he assured her with a smile. ‘But I insist that at the very least your water has a few bubbles in it, no?’
She smiled fleetingly. The first genuine smile Andreas had seen on her face and it totally transformed her. He fought against his reaction to it, but he could still feel his heart contract and then swell until it seemed to take up all the room inside his chest. He could hardly breathe and he had to fight with himself not to show it on his face. He disguised his reaction by leading the way to the drinks bar in the lounge and concentrating on pouring her a chilled mineral water while he opened a half-sized bottle of champagne for himself. He handed her the glass and clinked it against his own.
‘To the future and whatever it might bring.’
‘The future,’ Gemma murmured and took a little sip, adding mentally, and whatever it might take away.
‘It is such a nice afternoon, why don’t we take our drinks outside by the pool?’ he suggested. ‘We can even have a swim if you like.’
‘I’m not much of a swimmer these days.’
‘It could be what your leg needs,’ he said. ‘The exercise will strengthen it.’
‘I don’t like anyone seeing my scars.’
‘I
promise not to stare.’
She gave him another little shy smile. ‘You’re seriously tempting me.’
‘That is the intention, mia piccola. It is hot and sticky and nothing would do us more good right now than a relaxing swim.’
She captured her bottom lip with the small white crescents of her teeth. ‘I don’t have a very fashionable bathing costume.’
‘The garden is totally private. Just wear your underwear. Your things are in the walk-in wardrobe in our room,’ he said. ‘I asked Susanne to unpack them before she left.’
‘I’m surprised she hasn’t taken to them with a pair of very sharp scissors.’
‘If she has, then I will buy you a whole new wardrobe,’ he said.
To her surprise Gemma found her things neatly stored in the huge walk-in wardrobe in Andreas’s room. She tried to ignore the row of his suits and casual wear as she selected what she needed from her section, tried, too, to ignore the king-size bed that dominated the bedroom.
Using the en suite, she changed into her only bathing costume that was both out of date and a little big for her. She hitched up the straps as best she could and, slipping on a long white cotton shirt, went back downstairs.
Andreas was already in the pool when she came outside, swimming up and down effortlessly, affecting a deft tumble-turn at each end with a fluidity of motion she could only envy.
She sat on the edge of one of the loungers and watched him, privately marvelling at his musculature as he worked his way up and down. His back rippled with cobra-like coils of muscle that had been toned to perfection, his long legs making very short work of the length of the pool.
He flipped over on his back and swam back towards her doing backstroke and she had a full view of his abdominal muscles, the tight bands standing out in ridges of steel. His body glistened with good health and vitality as he came to a stop and lifted himself out of the water, the sunlight catching the droplets and making sparkling diamonds of them all as he came towards her.
‘Come in with me,’ he said. ‘I will help you down the steps.’
Bedded and Wedded for Revenge Page 9