“Oh, stop it. You’re making my stomach hurt.”
“That’s it. I warned you.” He lifted her ankles high in the air and swatted her backside.
Helen laughed so hard she started to wheeze.
“I’m serious here.” He smacked her again.
According to the books, this sort of thing was supposed to turn them both on. His wife was in hysterics, and he could honestly say swatting her ass like she was a two-year-old was doing nothing for him. He let her legs drop. Pulled out a chair and sat down to wait out her hysterics.
After several minutes, the laughter tapered off. Helen’s cheeks were flushed and wet. She was still grinning, and she’d brought her heels up to rest on the table, because she’d been complaining that her stomach muscles were aching.
“Andrew, are you still here?”
He grunted.
“I guess that means you are. And you’re back to your old grunting self.” She giggled again, then worked to get it under control. “What now, dumbass?”
Andrew leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table beside her. “I’m damned if I know.”
“Aren’t you supposed to torture me until I beg for an orgasm?” She was mocking him. With a grin on her face.
Andrew couldn’t help but smile at her. She was stunning, lying there all flushed and happy.
“I have a bag full of sex toys to torment you with.”
Her eyebrows went up and peeked out from under the blindfold. “What kind of toys?” He could tell she was trying not to come across as too eager.
He grinned. He trailed his fingers up her arm to her shoulder. Pretty. She was so pretty.
“I’m not telling you now. You ruined the mood.”
She pretended to pout. “So I don’t get my orgasm, then?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She sucked in a breath, but tried to cover her reaction with a fake light-hearted laugh. Andrew felt hopeful for the first time in months. He leaned over and popped the top button on her dress.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing what’s mine.” He’d stolen that line from a book. From several books, in fact. It seemed to crop up a lot. And damn if it wasn’t a line that actually worked. He could feel her pulse pick up speed under his fingertips. He popped another button.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Her words were saying one thing, but the way she moved into his touch was saying something else entirely.
“I want to get a few things straight.” Andrew popped another button. Her underwear came into view. She was wearing a pale yellow lace bra that he’d never seen before. He traced the edge of the cup with his finger. Pretty.
Helen let out a breath that shuddered slightly. She was working at keeping her breathing even. At trying to hide her reaction to his touch. His shoulders relaxed. It’d been too long since he’d had fun with his wife. Too long since he’d spent time studying her every reaction to him. He’d forgotten how wonderful it was to watch what he did to her. How she reacted to him. He slowly worked his way down the rest of the buttons until her dress fell open at her sides.
Goosebumps made a pattern on her skin as the cold air caressed her. He ran his palm over her stomach, feeling it clench beneath his touch. He wasn’t worried about her being cold. He planned to warm her up.
“You need to release me.” Her voice was shaky. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
He liked that she said “we.”
“I want to talk about some stuff.” Her underpants were the same colour as her bra. They had a tiny satin bow on each hip. He wondered if they were there for decoration or if he could untie them.
He shifted in his chair as his trousers became constricting.
“You want to talk?” she said. He could imagine her rolling her eyes. He smiled. “You never want to talk. It’s part of the problem. I might as well be living with a blow-up doll. You don’t talk. You don’t do anything at all. You just sit around waiting to die. Well, I don’t want a life like that. I want to live my life. I want to squeeze as much out of it as I can.”
He sighed. How many ways had he screwed things up? How many ways had he hurt his wife?
“You should have told me.” It was the wrong thing to say.
“I did tell you, dumbass. Over and over again. That’s another problem we have. You don’t listen. You’re too busy brooding about being old.”
It was a slap to the face. He couldn’t deny she was right. “I’m listening now. Tell me what you want.”
She didn’t say anything. Andrew waited for his wife while he toyed with the bows on her underwear. He tugged at one. Nothing happened. They were decoration. Typical.
“I told you what I need. I need to live.” She turned her face away from him. Andrew didn’t like that one bit.
“So we live.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Like you’ll change.”
Damn right he was changing. He’d bought a suit. He had sex toys. He’d booked an over-the-top romantic trip for two. What was that if it wasn’t changing? He felt a bit miffed that he wasn’t getting the credit he deserved.
He’d tried the kinky sex route, and that was a failure. It was time to put the suit to its proper use and go all arrogant bastard on her. He whipped off her blindfold and watched as she blinked at the light.
“Now you listen to me, woman. There will be no divorce. There will be no argument. We’re selling the house in Florida and moving somewhere else. I haven’t figured out where yet, but Florida isn’t working for us. You will let me back in to your bed. You will not flirt with any other men. Ever. And there will be no more talk about divorce.”
Her eyes narrowed. He’d seen that look before. It didn’t bode well. “Is that right? Will I do all of those things? Let me think.” She pretended to consider it when it was obvious that she already had the answer. “I think not.” She glared at him. “Where do you get off telling me what to do? Am I your slave? Your employee? Your child? Who told you that you know better than I do? I’ll get a divorce if I damn well want to. And I’ll live where I want to. And you’re not getting back into my bed. Ever.”
Crap. This wasn’t going as planned. According to the books, she would crumble in the face of his masculine power and gratefully accept his word as law. He was beginning to doubt the books. He rubbed his jaw. It was time to try the last weapon in his arsenal—the big romantic gesture.
He reached into his suit pocket and came out with the brochure he’d gotten from the travel agent. “I booked a trip for us.” He handed it to her, then realised she was still cuffed to the table. He considered letting her loose, but decided it was best to keep her there. Otherwise she might run away and he wouldn’t get to tell her about the trip. He held the brochure in front of her nose and flipped the pages for her. “See? It’s a three-month tour of Europe. We go to all the romantic spots you’ve always wanted to visit. We probably won’t see much because they’ll be crowded with tourists, but what the hell? Look, Venice, Rome, Prague, Paris. We’ll need to deal with the French, but you can’t have everything.” He waved the brochure. “What do you think?”
She sighed heavily. “Let me loose. I won’t run.” It was as though she could read his mind.
Reluctantly, he freed his wife. Helen rubbed her wrists before swivelling on the table to sit facing him. She started to pull her dress together and button it. He put up a hand to stop her.
“Please don’t. You’re beautiful.”
She stilled. “Andrew. I’m a fifty-five-year-old woman who’s overweight. I have lines and cellulite. My boobs sag. I’m not beautiful.”
Oh, the stupid woman. He placed a hand on the table on either side of her and stared deep into her eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be daft—”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “Don’t. Don’t say it. I mean it. You are perfection to me. You always have been and you always will be.”
Her eyes gl
istened with unshed tears, and Andrew’s heart shattered. What had he done? Had he really let her go for so long without letting her know what he saw? He was the fool.
At least he could change that now. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you this enough over the years. I mean it. I’m not saying it because I’m scared of being old and alone. I’d rather be alone than have any other woman. You’re it for me, Helen. And you are beautiful.”
A single tear fell down her cheek.
“I don’t need all of this.” Her voice was soft. “I don’t need the grand gestures, the kinky sex or the personality change you’re sporting.” She looked up at him as the tears fell. “I just need you. I can’t stay with you if you’re only going to grunt at me and hide in our house. I can’t live like that.”
“I won’t do it anymore.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “I’ll talk. I’ll go out. I might complain about it. But I’ll try.”
She didn’t look like she believed him.
“Give it a chance,” he said. “Give us a chance. I love you so much, honey. Don’t walk away.”
With a sob, she wrapped herself around him and buried her face in his new silk shirt. Andrew held on to her, rubbing her back and cooing nonsense to comfort her. His heart was aching. He’d been a fool. An old fool. Hiding from the world and hurting his wife. He had a lot to make up for. A lot of damage to fix. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.
He kissed her hair. “Please give me another chance. I might still be the grumpy arse you married, but I’ll try. I’m already trying. Look at my suit.”
She let out a strangled laugh.
“I really don’t want to live in Florida anymore.” He was sure of that, at least.
“I don’t either.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.
“Maybe we should move back to Atlantic City?”
“I like it here.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he wasn’t going to move country. That Atlantic City was change enough. But he stopped himself in time. She needed this. And he needed her.
“We can try living here. At least we’ll be close to Josh.”
She sniffed loudly then leaned back to study him. She didn’t let go of her grip on him, and he took that as a positive sign.
“Really?” The look in her eyes was so hopeful.
“Sure. What the heck. It isn’t so bad here.”
“I thought you never wanted to come back to Scotland?”
“I never want to lose you, either. Guess which is more important to me.”
She thought about it. “I want to go on the trip you booked. But you can’t spend the whole time complaining about crowds, foreign food and the price of everything.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She stared at him, and his heart soared. The damn trip worked! He was getting his wife back.
“Fine.” He pretended to sigh. “I can do that.” He thought about it. “I can try, anyway.”
She took a deep breath. “We can try.” Her words made him want to dance. He didn’t. He kept his serious face on and hoped there wasn’t a “but” coming. “But”-his heart sank-“you have to keep trying. You can’t do this for a few weeks to appease me and then go back to your antisocial grunting self.”
“Done.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her from the table.
“Done? Just like that?”
“Not just like that. I’ve put a lot of effort into this. I’m committed.”
She smiled at him. She still wasn’t as relaxed and confident as he would have liked, but she was getting there. “So, you’re the man with the plan.” She shrugged nervously. “What now?”
Andrew grinned widely. “Now, gorgeous, we go upstairs to bed together and I show you exactly how beautiful you are to me.”
The blush that coloured her cheeks made him feel ten feet tall. She was still his girl. “Do we have to go upstairs?”
“Damn straight we do. You’re half naked and I want to find a bed. My back can’t handle sex standing up and the table is too hard for you.”
“I meant, can’t we talk some more?”
He must have looked as crestfallen as he felt, because Helen started to laugh again. “Fine. We can find a bed.” She batted her eyelashes at him, and he felt like he’d travelled back in time thirty years.
He growled and hauled her towards the hallway.
“Wait.” She pulled from his grip and ran back to the table, where she gathered up the handcuffs and blindfold. She paused then snatched the bag with the rest of his booty. With a wicked smile, she rushed back to him. “We might as well see what these things can do.”
Andrew kissed his wife thoroughly before taking her to bed.
They weren’t out of the woods yet. But it was a damn good start.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The day of the wedding dawned bright and sunny. The hills closest to Invertary were a lush green; the ones in the distance faded to purple. The sky was that perfect luminous blue poets wrote about, with just the odd fluffy cloud to break up the expanse. The water of the loch sparkled aquamarine and lapped idly at the shore. A soft sun reflected off the crooked white buildings that lined the high street. Birds sang. People laughed. Yadda, yadda, yadda…
It wasn’t like Caroline could see this perfect summer’s day. Oh no. She had to imagine it. Because she was under house arrest until the ceremony. She’d been woken by Josh at some ungodly dark o’clock and whisked away to the castle before the press got wind that she’d moved. Now all she could see was the grey stone of the castle walls, the white of the huge marquee taking up most of the garden and the destruction the renovation crew had left in its wake.
She stepped back from the tiny bathroom window, where she’d been watching the mass of people prepare for the day.
“I can’t do this.” She held on to the porcelain sink and stared at her reflection. “No. I can do this. Of course I can do this. I promised to do this.” She rested her forehead on the cool glass of the mirror. “No. I can’t do this.”
There was a knock at the door. “Caroline, are you coming out of there sometime today? I’ve still got your makeup and hair to do. It’s only five hours to the wedding. We have to hurry.”
Caroline groaned. And not the good kind of groan she’d taken to making any time she was around Josh. That man had turned her into a sex addict. She’d even consulted her stolen books to see if there was a chapter on the subject. There wasn’t. She’d tried investigating it on the internet while Josh was asleep, but the sites her search brought up made her unplug the computer from the web and pray for forgiveness.
“Caroline?”
Any minute now, Kirsty would fetch Lake to kick down the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute. I’m just…” Her mind went blank. She’d already showered. There was no other reason to spend twenty minutes in the bathroom. At least, none she wanted to use as an excuse.
Kirsty sighed loud enough to be heard through the solid wooden door.
“Something is wrong. If you don’t come out and tell me what this minute, I’m going to fetch Lake.”
“You are so predictable.” Caroline took a deep breath and opened the door.
She was wearing a new lingerie set that Kirsty had brought over for her. A white satin corset with lavender velvet bows and matching thong. Caroline tugged at the corset. She couldn’t breathe. It must be too tight. She needed air. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She walked past a worried Kirsty to open one of the turret’s windows.
“What on earth?”
Kirsty came over to stand beside her.
Caroline pointed. “There are tartan sheep all around the marquee. Where the heck did they come from?” She looked closer. “Oh for goodness’ sake, they’re pooping everywhere. I’m going to talk to the wedding planner. This was not on the list I made for her.”
She marched towards the door.
Kirsty ran to stand in front of her. “You are not going anywhere. Not
until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
Caroline folded her arms. “I’ll tell you once I get back. I need to sort out the sheep problem first.”
“No you don’t. The sheep are a gift from the domino boys. They had the Donaldson twins dye them.”
“Did they buy the sheep?”
Kirsty sported her best innocent look. It wasn’t good enough.
“We can’t have stolen sheep at our wedding. I need to deal with this.”
Kirsty stepped in front of her. “In your underwear?”
Caroline looked down at herself. The wind went out of her. She turned and flopped onto the armchair nestled into the bay window. Kirsty crouched in front of her.
“What’s wrong, honey? Please tell me so that I can help you.”
The concern in her best friend’s eyes made Caroline’s heart ache. She chewed her bottom lip.
“I’m not sure if I’m making a mistake or not.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“It’s not too late to stop the wedding.” Kirsty’s eyes were sympathetic, but the set of her mouth was determined. Caroline was in no doubt her friend would wade out into the crowd to put an end to this day—if that was what Caroline wanted.
“No. I need to go through with it. I promised.” She threw back her head and covered her face with her hands. “It’s just…I’ve fallen in love with him and I’m afraid I’ll spend my life married to a man who doesn’t love me back.”
There was silence for a minute. “I don’t understand, sweetie. You didn’t seem to mind that this was a loveless arrangement when you made it.”
“That was before I fell in love. Now I think it might break me to spend a lifetime wanting his love back.” She groaned. “Oh my goodness.” Caroline sat up straight. “I just had a thought. What if he falls in love with someone else?”
Kirsty scoffed. “I wouldn’t panic yet. I thought the whole point of this wedding was that he didn’t believe in romantic love.”
“Just because you don’t believe in something, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”
Kirsty sat on the arm of the chair and patted Caroline’s shoulder. “Don’t go through with it. Call it off. You deserve someone who loves you back.”
Goody Two Shoes (Invertary Book 2) Page 28