Honor-Bound Groom

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Loren noticed they were now driving away from the city but not toward the castillo.

  “Are we expected somewhere else today?”

  “Yes,” Alex responded, his eyes on the road ahead.

  “Well, are you going to tell me where?” Loren demanded, suddenly feeling decidedly snippy.

  The emotional toll of the orphanage visit, on top of the demands of their wedding day only yesterday and the distress of last night were all making themselves felt. She wanted nothing more right now than some peace and quiet.

  “Look, I’m not up to any more of your cloak-and-dagger stuff. If you won’t say where we’re going you may as well let me out of the car right now and I’ll find my own way home.”

  Alex still didn’t respond.

  “Stop the car,” Loren demanded.

  “We’re almost there.”

  “Almost where?”

  Loren looked around her but all she could see were fields and trees. Then, just in the distance, she caught sight of a series of domed buildings and a fluorescent wind sock on a tall pole.

  “An airfield?” she asked. “Why are we going to an airfield?”

  “Because our plane leaves in a short while.”

  “Our plane?” Loren felt as if all she could do was dumbly question everything that came from Alex’s mouth.

  “Yes, our plane.”

  She clenched her fists in frustration. Getting information from him was like getting blood from a stone.

  “And where would this plane be taking us?” she inquired acerbically, fighting the urge to shout.

  “On our honeymoon, of course.”

  Seven

  “Honeymoon?”

  Loren’s voice reached a pitch that should have made Alex’s ears ring. He turned to his new wife and smiled.

  “It is usual for a newly married couple, and it is expected of us.”

  “But my things?”

  “Await you on the plane.”

  “But what about…”

  As Loren’s voice trailed off he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. She may have won the first round but this one was definitely his. Until her refusal of his attentions he would have been happy to remain at home on Isla Sagrado with her for their honeymoon as he’d originally planned. But she’d laid down a gauntlet when she’d spurned him last night. He was unaccustomed to anyone saying no to him—least of all the woman who had become his wife. He had serious ground to recover if this marriage was to work.

  Her words had plagued him until dawn this morning, when he’d realized what he would have to do. It would be too easy for Loren to avoid him if they stayed at the castillo, or even if they’d gone to avail themselves of one of the luxury holiday homes on the other side of the island. No, he had to take her away, get her wholly to himself.

  During their trip to the orphanage it was a simple matter to have her maid pack her things and have them delivered to the private airfield. Her passport and other papers were already in his possession, having been necessary for the legal paperwork of their marriage. A short call to a friend who owned a private holiday villa in Dubrovnik, a mere two-hour flight away on the Croatian coast of the Adriatic Sea, and his plan was in action. Only five minutes out of Dubrovnik old town, the two-bedroom stone cottage was a fifteenth-century delight. Private, fully modernized and the perfect setting for the seduction of his wife.

  “Loren, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” She snorted inelegantly. “That’s rich, coming from the man who lied to marry me. The man who played on my own sense of values to get what he wanted.”

  A burr of irritation settled under Alex’s skin, aimed more at himself than at her. He couldn’t deny that she was painfully right.

  “And what did you want, mi querida?” he asked, not bothering to hold back the cynicism that laced his endearment. “Don’t tell me that you, for your own part, didn’t use me a little, also?”

  “I never lied to you,” she answered quietly, her eyes impossibly somber as they met his.

  For a few seconds the air between them thickened with the pain of the emotions he saw reflected in her gaze, and for a brief moment he tasted the bitterness of shame on his tongue. But he could not afford to dwell on his wrongdoing. They were now married and that was final. How successful would their marriage be? Well, that would no doubt depend on the next two weeks.

  According to Loren’s doctor at the clinic, based on her normal cycle, she would be entering her most fertile time soon. If his plans remained on track there would be no need for the detached methods she’d insisted were the only way she’d get pregnant with his child.

  “Come,” Alex said, getting out the car and going around to the passenger side to open her door. “The pilot is waiting.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Sensing she’d had enough of secrets, Alex didn’t beat around the bush. “Dubrovnik. We can be alone there.”

  He felt her shrink away from him as the words sank in. “I hope they have a good selection of reading material,” she commented tartly.

  Alex laughed out loud, the humor in it startling even himself. If he knew his friend, any reading material would be eclectic and with a heavy emphasis on both cooking and eroticism. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get there.

  The flight in the chartered jet was smooth and over within two hours, and it took very little time to clear customs and immigration. The midafternoon sun was bright and hot as they made their way to the waiting car outside the terminal building. Through it all, Loren maintained an icy silence. A silence that Alex looked forward to thawing, one icicle at a time.

  The water in the little bay, fifty yards below where the cottage perched on the hillside, was a clear crystal blue. So clear you could even see the rocks and pebbles on the seafloor. Steps had been hewn from the rocky face leading down to the private beach. The cottage itself was a delight. Despite its aged appearance from the outside, Alex had been reassured to discover the interior was comfortably appointed and supplied with everything they would need for the duration of their stay.

  He’d asked that the refrigerator-freezer and pantries all be fully stocked, and had stipulated that the cleaners were only to come when he could ensure they were away from the property. He wanted no interruptions to this idyll.

  Loren was outside now, on the rear terrace, gazing out at the calm seas, a light breeze tugging at the severe hairdo she’d worn since this morning. Alex’s fingers itched to take her hair down and to see her relax. As tense as she was now it would take days for her to unwind. He left the narrow kitchen area and walked across the tiled open-plan living area to where she stood.

  “How about a swim before we have an early dinner?” he asked, coming out onto the terrace.

  “An early dinner and bed sounds good to me.”

  “What, not game to tackle the steps?” Alex teased, reaching out a hand to caress her bare shoulder.

  She stepped out of reach and sighed. “No, Alex, I’m not game to tackle the steps. In fact I’m not game for anything right now but something to eat and a decent night’s sleep.”

  He gave her a thorough look. She did indeed look washed-out, with the pale strain of tiredness about her eyes more visible now than earlier. He gave a small nod.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “It’s been a busy couple of days. Why don’t you shower and change into something comfortable and I’ll prepare something for us to eat.”

  “What? You? Cook?”

  Ah, so she was not so tired that she couldn’t insult him. That at least was mildly promising.

  “I cook very well, as you’ll soon discover. Now, you’ll find the bedrooms downstairs. If you don’t like the one where your cases are, we can swap.”

  Her eyes widened. “We have separate rooms?”

  “Of course. Separate rooms, separate bathrooms. Unless, of course, you’d rather share?”

  “No! I mean, no, that’s fine. I thought…”

  Alex knew ex
actly what she thought, but he was prepared to bide his time.

  “Go on. Freshen up. Take your time, hmm? I want to shower and change myself before starting our meal.”

  He watched as she walked back inside the cottage and made for the stairs that led to the two bedrooms on the lower level. Yes, he was prepared to bide his time—for now. But he would not wait forever for his recalcitrant bride to accept the very real attraction that lay between them, nor the pleasure he was certain they would find together when she did.

  “Loren, wake up. Dinner is ready.”

  Alex’s voice pierced the uneasy slumber Loren had fallen into after taking her shower. The wide expanse of bed, with its pale blue coverlet and fresh cotton pillow slips, had proven too much of an enticement. She stretched as she stirred, forcing her eyes open.

  The sun was much lower in the sky now, its light sparkling across the water visible through the floor-length windows like a thousand diamonds skipping across the waves.

  Loren pushed herself upright, then snatched at her robe as she felt it slide away from her, exposing her nakedness beneath.

  “If you’ll give me five minutes, I’ll be with you,” she said as coolly as she could, hyperconscious of the hot flare of interest in Alex’s dark eyes as she gathered the fine silk about her.

  His lips had parted, as if he was about to say something but the words had frozen on his tongue. His stare intensified, dropping to the pinpoints of her nipples where they peaked against the soft blush-colored fabric. Her breath caught in her throat, she could almost feel his gaze as if it was a touch against her skin.

  She shifted on the bed, untangling her legs and pushing them over the side of the mattress, the movement making her robe slide across her nakedness like a caress. Heat built everywhere—her cheeks, her chest and deeper darker places she didn’t want to acknowledge with Alex standing there, staring hungrily at her as if she was to be his appetizer before the evening meal.

  “Alex?” Loren asked, finally getting to her feet and welcoming the feel of her robe settling like a cloak about her, hiding her.

  “Okay, five minutes. Come out onto the terrace.”

  He pushed one hand through his hair, the vulnerability of that action striking her square in the chest, before turning for the staircase leading back up to the main floor. Loren took a steadying breath. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but weariness had dragged at every inch of her body. To be woken by him had reminded her starkly of the day she’d arrived at the castillo. Of how he’d kissed the palm of her hand, of how she’d believed their marriage to be so full of promise at that moment.

  Even now, her body still thrummed in reaction to Alex’s presence, and he hadn’t so much as touched her this time. It had only been a look, but it had set her senses on fire despite how angry she was with both him and herself for the debacle they now found themselves in.

  Coming here had been a terrible idea. She should have resisted. Should have demanded he take her back to the castillo. She could have avoided him there for most of the time at least. Thrown herself into her duties as patroness of the orphanage. Something. Anything but time in this isolated beauty alone together.

  Loren spun on her bare foot and skittered across the floor to where she’d found her suitcase. She hadn’t bothered to check its contents before her shower, only grabbing at the first thing she could find at the time, her robe. But now she wondered just what she had to wear. She certainly hoped her maid had covered all possibilities.

  She flipped open the lid of the case and rummaged through the layers of swimwear with matching wraps and night wear Bella had packed for her, tossing it all to one side. Finally, thankfully, her fingers closed around some basic cotton T-shirts. Loren lifted them out and put them on the bed behind her before searching through her case again. A small gasp of relief escaped her as she found a batik wraparound skirt her mother had brought back for her from Indonesia a couple of years ago.

  All she needed now was clean underwear. Loren pulled open a drawer of the dresser in her room and swiftly put away the things she’d already taken from the case, then methodically unpacked the rest—her frustration rising by degrees until the case was completely empty.

  What on earth had her maid been thinking? No underwear? Not even a pair of cotton panties? She prayed that Bella had perhaps run out of room in her case and had packed her underthings with Alex’s, but a rapid check of his room showed no sign of anything of hers.

  The chime of a clock upstairs reminded her that she’d told Alex she’d only be five minutes. Sliding her robe off, Loren picked up the underwear she’d worn all day. The idea of wearing them again, against clean skin, just felt wrong. She’d have to make sure she rinsed them out before bed tonight and bought some more lingerie tomorrow.

  Loren chose the thickest of her T-shirts and pulled it on, then swiftly wrapped the skirt about her waist and slid her feet into flat leather mules.

  The cotton of the batik skirt was soft against her buttocks and she was acutely conscious of the brush of fabric caressing her bare skin as she walked up the stairs. Maybe going commando hadn’t been such a clever idea after all.

  Out on the terrace Alex had set a small round table with a clutch of flowers and had lit a large squat candle that flickered in the gentle evening breeze. Knives, forks and two colorful serviettes completed the setting.

  “I’ll have to buy you a watch, I think,” Alex said as he walked toward her holding a flute of champagne in each hand.

  Loren took one and smiled in return. Not for anything would she admit what had delayed her.

  “I thought it was a woman’s prerogative to be late.”

  “When she is as lovely as you, then she’s always worth waiting for.”

  “Even ten years?”

  Loren couldn’t help it. The words had popped into her mind and past her lips before she could think. Alex tipped the rim of his glass against hers.

  “Especially then,” he said, a tone to his voice she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “To a better beginning, hmm?”

  “If you say so,” she replied, and took a long delicious sip of the bubbling golden liquid.

  She was certain the alcohol bypassed her stomach and went straight to her legs, because all of a sudden they felt tingly, the muscles weak.

  “I think I’d better have something to eat. That feels as if it’ll have me on my ear if I keep it up.”

  “Here, try the antipasto.”

  Alex crossed the few short steps to a stone bench next to the outdoor grill. He picked up a platter and offered it to her, watching again with those velvet black eyes as she selected a sliver of artichoke heart and popped it into her mouth.

  “How is that?” he asked as she chewed and swallowed.

  “Good. Here, try some.”

  Without thinking, Loren picked up another piece and proffered it to him. He paused a moment before opening his lips. She held the morsel, startled as his lips closed around the tips of her fingers, their moist warmth and softness sending a jolt of need rocketing down her arm.

  “You’re right,” Alex said after he’d swallowed and taken another sip of wine. “That was very good. Give me something else.”

  Her hand shook slightly as she chose a stuffed olive and held it before him. He bent his head and slowly took the fruit into his mouth, his tongue hotly sweeping between the pads of her forefinger and thumb as he did so. If she’d thought the wine had made her legs weak, the caress of his tongue made them doubly so.

  “Don’t!” she cried.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “That. What you just did. Just…don’t.”

  “It disturbs you, my touch?”

  Oh, far more than he could ever imagine, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him know that painful truth.

  “No, I just don’t like it. That’s all. Here, let me put the platter on the table, then we can help ourselves.”

  Loren relieved him of the platter and set it on the table next to the candle then
settled herself on one of the wrought iron chairs before her legs gave way completely.

  The warmth of the sun-heated metal seeped through the thin cotton of her skirt—heating other, more sensitive places. Loren shifted slightly but the motion only enhanced the sensation.

  “Uncomfortable out here? Perhaps you’d rather sit indoors,” Alex suggested as he topped off their glasses before sitting down opposite her.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Loren assured him, all the while forcing her body to relax.

  Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps it was merely the exquisitely beautiful setting, but Loren felt herself begin to relax by degrees. By the time Alex rose to bake fillets of fish, garnished with herbs and lemon and wrapped in foil, on the outdoor grill she was feeling decidedly mellow. She rose from the table and took the near-empty antipasto platter through to the kitchen indoors.

  The kitchen was very compact and narrow—a long row of cupboards down one side and the bench top and stove running parallel, with little more than a few feet between them. Loren searched the cupboards for a small dish to put the leftover antipasto into, and then the drawers for some cling wrap to cover it. She’d found a space for the dish in the heavily stocked fridge and was just about to rinse off the platter when Alex came through from the terrace.

  He squeezed behind her, far more closely than necessary, she decided with a ripple of irritation.

  “The fish is just about done. Can you grab the salad from the fridge? I’ll get our plates.”

  He was so close his breath stirred the hair against the nape of her neck. She could feel the solid heat of his body as he pressed up against her buttocks and reached past her to grab the jug of vinaigrette dressing from the bench top.

  She would not react to him; she would not. Loren clenched her hands into fists on the countertop, fighting against the urge to allow her body to lean back into the strength of his. It was almost a physical impossibility in the close confines of the kitchen.

  Thankfully, Alex appeared to be oblivious to the racing emotions that swirled inside her. He propped the jug on top of the two dinner plates he’d taken from the crockery pantry behind her and was already on his way back outside.