He opened the door and a whiff of her gentle fragrance escaped. If he wasn’t mistaken, this was her wardrobe. It looked like she was pulling out all the stops for him.
But would she agree to his next request?
For the moment, Gwen had abandoned the hotel project in favour of her own. The brush she was using to work the paint stripper into the carvings on the mantelpiece dangled, redundant, from her gloved fingers when Declan sauntered into the sitting room.
From her vantage point on the floor she was in the perfect position to eye his long legs encased in worn denim that hugged every part of him as if it had been custom made for his body. Every part of him. Her heart stuttered against the wall of her chest.
“Your dinner will be dried out by now,” she pointed out, forcing her heartbeat to a normal rhythm through sheer will. If she could only get him to leave the room she’d be fine.
“It’ll be all right.”
Gwen rose to her feet and pulled off the gloves she wore more as a concession to Declan’s not so subtle remarks about the condition of her hands than the characteristics of the paint stripper. “I’ll get it for you.”
“You don’t need to wait on me, Gwen. I can get it myself. I need to ask you something before I eat, though.”
His tone was serious and Gwen’s stomach sank. What did he want now? He’d taken over her home and her life. Was there anything left?
“What is it?” she sighed as she sat down on the dustcover protecting the couch. Somehow she was certain that whatever he was going to say to her, she would be best sitting down.
“We have to be lovers.”
“We what?” Gwen shot to her feet. “No way. That’s so not part of the deal.” She crossed her arms firmly in front of her. She had to or she’d probably throw something at him, starting with the pot of paint stripper she’d been using. “If you’ll remember, we’ve been there and done that. It didn’t work then, it sure as hell won’t work now,” she growled.
“Hell, that didn’t come out right.” An aggravated look of disgust crossed Declan’s face.
“You can bet your life it didn’t. And you can bet your life it isn’t going to happen this side of hell freezing over, either.”
“That’s not what I meant. Sit down.”
“I’d prefer to stand at the moment, thank you.” Gwen bristled.
“I’ll start again—”
“You can start as many times as you like, it isn’t going to change my mind.” Gwen marched over to the sash window to stare blindly through the glass, counting to ten several times over while she tried to calm down.
“Don’t go getting all twisted up about it. I made a mistake, okay? And before you jump down my throat again and say ‘too right,’ you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”
Gwen turned and narrowed wary eyes at him. “So what is it, then?”
“Do you remember what I said about how my father was probably going to ask questions?”
Gwen nodded.
“He’s expecting to see a devoted couple.”
Gwen froze on the spot. She had a very bad feeling about where this was heading. “How devoted?”
“Totally.” Declan bent his head and rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “He’s expecting the real deal and if he doesn’t see what he’s expecting, Connor’s warned me I’m going to have a massive legal wrangle over my eligibility to benefit from the trust fund.”
“But your mother’s will said you only have to be married, doesn’t it? Surely it didn’t specify love ever after.” Gwen spat the last words. They’d left a very nasty taste in her mouth.
She’d seen the harm foolish dreams of forever wreaked when her mother’s infidelity destroyed her parents’ marriage and along with that Gwen’s entire world when the only father she’d known had found out she wasn’t his biological child. Love, in her world, was not an ever-after option.
“Dad is one of the trustees. He’s going to fight me on this unless we can convince him it’s a love match.”
Gwen tried to ignore the churning in her stomach. “Convince him it’s a love match? No, I can’t do it.”
“Look, it’s only for the day. He’s flying out for meetings in the States straight after the reception. In fact, we’re lucky he’s so busy preparing for his trip or he’d have insisted on having us over for dinner this week. Please, Gwen, this is really important.”
“Of course it’s important, to you. You get to control your precious company,” she retaliated.
“Well, let’s not forget what you get in all this. It’s not like you’re doing it out of the love of your heart.”
His words split apart the air between them as effectively as if a shard of ice had suddenly lodged painfully between her ribs, robbing her of breath and sending a chill deep into her chest. He’d dealt his trump card, and he knew it. She’d do anything to keep the house. Anything. If that meant being Declan’s radiant, devoted bride, she had to agree.
She forced her assent past the mass that had lodged in her throat. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Her voice reduced to a whisper.
“We’d better get some practice in, then.”
With one swift step he was in front of her and had bent his head to lower his lips to hers. Gwen felt their heated pressure before her mind assimilated his intention. Her lips parted on a shocked gasp and he caught her lower lip gently between his own, pulling softly, coaxing her to respond.
A sudden powerful wave of desire, sweet and sharp, caught her off guard and undulated from the soles of her feet, rocking her against him. She splayed her fingers across the hard muscles of his chest, feeling them flex beneath her hands as he drew in a shallow breath. Declan deepened the kiss, robbing her of sensibility. As effectively as he’d invaded her home, now he invaded her sanity and, as she gave herself over to sensation, she accepted she was powerless to stop him.
Her hands roamed across his chest and over his shoulders until they looped across the back of his neck. His hair was loose and felt like raw silk against her fingers, while his lips were like velvet against hers. She kissed him back with a need she’d kept under lock and key for eight long years. Impenetrable by anyone but Declan Knight. A need she’d never wanted to experience again.
This was what it had been like—an all-consuming craving for more—except she didn’t want to recognise this intense desire in herself—this absolute hunger. Needs she’d believed could remain in slumberous oblivion. Needs she’d told herself she could live without.
Declan’s mouth burned a hungry trail across her cheek and along her jaw. His lips captured her ear lobe and drew it into the warmth of his mouth. A tiny cry of surprise jolted her into awareness. What the heck was she doing? She yanked herself from his arms, forcing him to let her go. Her breathing was ragged, speech impossible. Declan spun away from her. His breathing none too steady either. But then he turned and trapped her with a searing look. A look with eyes still aflame with desire. Desire for her.
His voice, once he’d harnessed the control required to speak, was deep, guttural. “If we can carry that off, it should be convincing enough, don’t you think?”
“You have no idea,” she whispered harshly. She turned and fled the room before he could catch a glimpse of the tears that suddenly shimmered in her eyes.
That night Gwen lay rigid in her bed. The sheets were barely disturbed. Across the hall she imagined she could make out the steady, deep breathing that indicated Declan, at least, was asleep.
Of course he was, he had the promise of what he needed, and somehow she was going to have to find the strength to provide it.
Seven
Gwen woke to the sounds of Declan moving about in her kitchen. She touched her fingers to her lips, recalling the feel and even the taste of him from last night. She groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, thumping the pillow with fisted hands. Damn Declan for kissing her, and damn her for enjoying it.
A knock at her bedroom door only slightly preceded the creak of hinges as the do
or opened and the object of her thoughts, suited up and ready for work, entered carrying a tray.
“Breakfast,” he said as he brought the tray over to her. “We need to talk.”
She didn’t like the way this was headed. The last time he’d said that, look what had happened? At the memory, her body responded with its own ripple of arousal, beading her nipples to tight peaks against the soft fabric of her nightgown. She yanked the covers up and tucked her arms tightly over them to hide the incriminating effect he had on her.
Declan’s dark eyes were dull, fogged with weariness, and tiny lines bracketed his lips. So he hadn’t had such a great night after all. A triumphant flare of satisfaction ignited and equally as quickly extinguished as Gwen recalled her own troubled sleep. At this rate they’d both be wrecks by Saturday. He was right. They did have to talk.
“I’m sorry I surprised you last night,” he started as he handed her a mug of tea and offered her the small creamer and sugar pot on the tray.
Gwen added a dash of milk and shook her head at the sugar. “Surprised? You made me angry, too.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to make you angry. To be honest that kiss wasn’t what I was expecting, either.”
What had he been expecting? she wondered. She wrapped nerveless fingers around the warm mug. Better not to know. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.
The shrill buzz of Declan’s cell phone interrupted whatever he was going to say. “Excuse me a minute,” he said as he flipped the phone open. Whatever the news, it wasn’t good, judging by the expression on his face. With a sharp, “I’ll get back to you,” he slapped the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket.
“Bad news?” Gwen asked.
“Yeah, unfortunately, I have to go. Some vandalism on one of the jobs we’re working on. I doubt I’ll have this sorted before late tonight. Do you mind?”
“Why should I mind?” She went for the couldn’t-care-less approach. The less he realised how last night’s kiss had jeopardised her control the better. Discussing it would only prolong the agony.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” He was already on his way out the door.
“Don’t worry. Later will be fine. There’s no rush.” Gwen selected a triangle of toast from the tray with a nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Thanks for the breakfast.”
Declan fired a quick, heart-stopping grin at her. “We are going to sort this out you know.” He disappeared from the doorway and she heard him grab his briefcase from his room before heading towards the front door.
She sagged against her pillows in relief as she heard the front door close, then the sound of his Jaguar starting up. He was gone. Reprieve.
The house had an empty, hollow feel to it when Gwen arrived back from a long afternoon doing lunch and shopping with Libby. It was late. The sun had dropped behind the horizon in a fireball of colour and the grey light of dusk now shrouded the house. From the lack of vehicle out front and the hollow emptiness inside, Declan wasn’t home yet. Strange how she’d never noticed how large and echoing the house was before. It was as if he’d expanded somehow to fill it with his presence, as if he belonged there.
Don’t be stupid. She shook her head at her fanciful imaginings. You’ve had too much wine with lunch. She dropped her handbag and coat on her bed and slipped her feet out of the high-heeled court shoes she’d worn to match the sleek watermelon-coloured sheath that had armoured her for her afternoon with Libby. Surprisingly, Libby had accepted the sudden change in wedding plans without demur. Maybe it’d been because she was so high on the buzz of excitement she’d shown when seeing Gwen’s engagement ring for the first time, or the fact she’d never really warmed to Steve in the first place.
Gwen was glad she’d decided to spend the time with Libby, but while the mental exertion required to maintain the blushing bride façade had been good practice for Saturday, it had been exhausting. At least they’d managed to have their last meeting with the florist about table settings at the reception and had picked up the dresses from the dressmaker.
Her cheeks ached from the perpetual smile she’d kept plastered to her face as Libby had made her try on the soft white A-line gown and had enthused again about the pearl-beaded lace empire-style bodice. It was hard to believe she’d once quietly been as excited as her friend over the elegant design. But that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Gwen padded on bare feet down the hall to the bathroom. A long, relaxing soak in the bath was what she needed. She flipped open the taps and poured in a handful of bath crystals, flinching as she remembered doing the same thing for Declan only a few days ago. Heavens, she couldn’t even take a bath now without him muscling in on it.
She wondered how his day had gone. Vandalism and theft were major problems on construction sites. Clearly things weren’t going brilliantly, or he’d have been back by now. Back to continue the discussion they’d been forced to abandon this morning.
Gwen slid the side-opening zipper down on her dress and peeled the garment off her. She bent to swirl the bath water with a lazy hand, inhaling deeply the calming aroma of the jasmine-scented bath crystals. Not in the mood for the harsh overhead light, she decided to light the candles she had in various shapes and sizes on the antique vanity unit. Oh yes, that was much better. With the muted light reflected in the slightly tarnished mirror she could feel her cares diminish already—well, almost.
She swiftly stripped off her lacy underwear, twisted her hair up into a clip on top of her head, and stepped into the bath. Ah, bliss. Inch by inch her body sank into the water. She toed the taps shut and lay back and closed her eyes, revelling in the peace and silence.
Declan rolled his car to a halt in Gwen’s driveway and turned off the motor. Lord, he was tired. Nothing, but nothing, had gone right today. He had his suspicions about who was responsible for the vandalism of the imported timber he’d paid an arm and a leg to bring in for this job, but convincing the officers in charge of the investigation was going to be another matter entirely.
And then there was Gwen.
Unbidden the memory of their kiss last night deluged his senses, tightening his muscles and flooding him with heat. He certainly hadn’t expected that kind of reaction, either from him or her. He could still see her eyes as she’d stared at him accusingly before taking flight from the room last night, every bit as much want reflected in their smoky depths as had pounded through his body.
No physical intimacy. He’d reminded himself of that constantly last night while he’d cleaned up the paint stripper she’d abandoned. Abandoned because he’d breached the terms of their agreement.
He really had thought it would be no problem to adhere to that particular rule, but suddenly his body was urging him to trash the agreement and draw up a new one. One that gave them full rights to explore the potential he knew lay between them. His lips curled in an ironic twist. Yeah, and Gwen would agree to that some time—like never.
Declan refused to admit that this time he’d been too ambitious or that his father might have been right. There was more to life than pedantic, predictable plodding. Sometimes you had to stick out your neck—take risks. And he knew where he was going to start tonight. With Gwen.
He let himself quietly into the house. Had she gone to bed already? No, it wasn’t that late, only eight o’clock. His eye caught the flicker of light from the bathroom. He sniffed the air suspiciously, his nostrils identifying the mixed aromas of candle wax and a wickedly sweet floral scent that reminded him completely of Gwen and that wreaked havoc with his libido. The muted drip of water into the deep bath filtered down the hall.
A vision of her, in the water, her soft creamy skin bathed in a golden glow of light, painted itself behind his eyes and arousal ripped at him with sudden, sharp claws. Every nerve ending screamed at him to stalk down that hallway and lift her, warm and wet, from the water and take her to his bed to amend the terms of their agreement irrevocably. A shuddering breath escaped his lungs as he fought to bring his clamouring instinc
ts under control. He couldn’t indulge himself in this particular fantasy. It would be too easy to lose it all.
Declan put down his case and his laptop inside the door to his bedroom and turned sharply on one heel to stride back down the hallway and out the front door, closing it firmly behind him. He headed for his car then hesitated for a moment. No, on second thought, driving wasn’t a good idea in his current state of mind. He removed his cell phone from his breast pocket and punched in a few numbers.
“Mason, I need a drink, probably more than one. Grab Connor and meet me at Joe’s Bar, in half an hour.”
Without waiting for a reply, he flipped his phone shut and strode down the footpath. Yeah, at this pace he’d make it into Newmarket in no time, and would hopefully have worn off some of the repressed energy that roiled through him like an angry tiger. And if he hadn’t, then he could always pick a fight with one of his brothers.
Gwen sat up with a splash. Was that the front door? She listened carefully, but heard nothing. The bath water was getting cold. Time to get out. She levered herself from the bath and wrapped herself in a clean fluffy towel before pulling the bathroom door open.
“Declan? Is that you?”
No reply. Strange. His case was poking out slightly into the hallway. Gwen slipped down the hall and into her office where she could get a look at the driveway. Yes, his car was definitely there. But where was he?
She dashed into her bedroom and closed the door, determined not to be caught undressed when she next saw him. She pulled on her nightgown and wrapped herself up in her robe, tying the sash firmly around her waist. After slipping her feet into the blue monster-feet slippers Libby had given her as a joke last birthday she felt appropriately unglamorous and invulnerable. Necessary armour with Declan Knight on the prowl.
By the time she’d drained the bathtub and hung up her dress properly she’d come to the conclusion that Declan was definitely not home. He must have popped in briefly while she was having her bath and then gone out again.
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