His Christmas Bride

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His Christmas Bride Page 11

by Brooks, Helen


  ‘That’s true,’ Zak murmured, his chin nuzzling the silk of her hair as he spoke. ‘It’s a beautiful spot; I’m a very lucky man. A very lucky man,’ he repeated huskily, his arms tightening their hold on her softness.

  She knew he was aroused by her closeness; his body bore ample evidence of that as he held her against his hard flesh, and he was breathing fast as he shifted her to face him again. He put his mouth to hers, one hand in the small of her back to steady her, and the other lightly cupping her breast through the thin material of her dress. She shivered, her mouth opening involuntarily, and immediately the kiss deepened, his tongue taking the undefended territory and creating raw, hot desire that ripped through her nerve endings with bewildering heat. His fingers were slowly moving over her taut nipple, gently, erotically, in the same way his mouth was moving over hers, his thighs hard as he fitted her into him.

  She had never felt this way with Dean. The thought was there in the tiny part of her mind still functioning rationally. She had enjoyed their love-making—looked forward to it, even—but it hadn’t produced this raging, primitive passion that was outside her imagination, her mind, herself, everything, a live entity that had to be fed or she would die.

  ‘Delicious…’ His throaty growl stroked her as he put her from him, and it was only then Blossom became aware of the knock at the drawing-room door. ‘OK?’ he asked softly, and as she nodded dazedly, he left her, walking across the room and opening the door himself.

  As she turned to face the window again, struggling for composure, she heard Zak talking to Geraldine, but it was beyond her to acknowledge the conversation. It was a moment or two before the housekeeper left, and by then she was more in control, although she knew her cheeks were still flushed and burning. She felt nervous and exhilarated and not a bit like herself.

  ‘Dinner in five minutes.’

  She forced herself to face Zak as he spoke. ‘Great.’ She aimed for matter-of-factness. ‘I’d love to see the garden, if that’s all right?’ she added, walking across and picking up her wine glass. No more cosy togetherness if she could help it.

  ‘Sure.’ He poured himself some wine from the bottle Geraldine had placed next to some nibbles on the coffee table. ‘We’ll take our wine with us. It’s nice out there in the fresh air.’

  Blossom breathed a little easier once they were outside. The summer twilight had turned the garden into pools of shadow and sunlight, streaks of pink beginning to trickle into the bright blue sky. The white and sugary pink of the magnolia blossoms, the rich scent from the flowerbeds, and deep green of the lawn soothed her shattered senses as they slowly walked round the grounds. ‘This was an overgrown jungle when I bought the house,’ Zak said quietly. ‘But Will’s a keen gardener, and he discovered a beautifully laid out garden beneath the weeds and elephant-high grass. A good tree surgeon and lots of TLC from Will, and it was restored to its former splendour.’

  As though on cue a tall, lean man with snow-white hair and a deeply tanned face entered the garden from a narrow side gate set between the house and garage block, two large Dobermanns on leads at his side. Blossom eyed the dogs with alarm.

  ‘Here’s Will now.’ Zak raised a hand in greeting. ‘He always takes the dogs for a long walk about this time. I’ll introduce you. You don’t mind dogs, do you?’ he added as Will bent down and let them loose. ‘These two are softies at heart.’

  Dogs, no. Dogs masquerading as small ponies with great, slavering jaws, question mark. And softies—with those teeth?

  Blossom had to admit the dogs were very well behaved, though. She heard Will give a command, and instead of them galloping towards her as she had feared they walked with sedate docility at the side of the gardener, rolling over to have their tummies rubbed as soon as they reached Zak. ‘Blossom, meet Will. Will, Blossom. And the two clowns at my feet are Thor and Titus. They’re supposed to be guard dogs, but no one has let them into the secret. Will, least of all.’

  Will smiled at Blossom. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said equably. ‘And don’t take any notice of him. If anyone was foolish enough to enter the house without invitation, they wouldn’t do it a second time. They’re just not aggressive, that’s all.’

  Blossom smiled back. Will obviously had the same easygoing relationship with Zak as his wife did. ‘Have you trained them yourself?’ she asked, her gaze returning to the two dogs, who were now politely sniffing the hand she’d extended.

  Will nodded, ignoring the snort Zak had given at the mention of training. ‘From pups. And forget all the tales you might have heard about dangerous dogs. These

  two love people, and they just plain love playing with kids. Good as gold with them.’

  ‘That’s because they think they are kids.’ Zak shook his head. ‘There are two perfectly good kennels out here which have never been used. Instead two baskets mysteriously appeared in the house complete with feather cushions.’

  Blossom had noticed the ecstatic greeting the big dogs had given Zak, and the way he had crouched down to fuss over them before straightening. She suspected Will wasn’t the only one who spoilt the duo.

  The two men continued to chaff each other as the three of them walked to the house, where Geraldine met them. ‘Come and eat, it’s all ready,’ she said, Will disappearing in the direction of the kitchen with Thor and Titus at his heels.

  The dining room’s leather armchairs were very comfortable, and the first course of carrot, ginger and honey soup absolutely delicious, but Blossom found she hardly tasted it, she was in such a state. She had been rash to agree to eat at his home. Rash to be tempted by the thought of a further glimpse into his life. Because that was what had tempted her, sure enough. She should have known by now it would only further confuse her.

  After Geraldine had bustled out with their empty soup dishes, she finished her glass of wine as her thoughts churned on. If she had stuck to her guns in the first place, brushed him off no matter how persistent he’d become, she wouldn’t be in this mess. And she should never have allowed him to kiss her. More than that, she should never have kissed him back. But she had. Along with allowing more intimacy…

  ‘The soup wasn’t to your liking?’

  She raised startled eyes to find the blue gaze studying her with piercing thoroughness, a frown bringing the dark brows together. ‘No, it was delicious.’ She nodded her head for extra emphasis. ‘Absolutely delicious.’

  ‘But you don’t like the wine?’ he persisted silkily.

  ‘Of course I do.’ She nodded again. ‘It’s excellent.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘What’s what?’ she asked with ungrammatical abruptness.

  ‘The reason for looking as though you’ve lost a pound and found a penny.’ He leant back in his chair, eyes narrowed.

  ‘I wasn’t.’ She probably had been.

  ‘Then everything is fine?’

  She didn’t answer immediately, and his frown deepened. Then she said slowly, ‘I shouldn’t have come here, Zak. We shouldn’t be seeing each other. It’s going to get too…complicated. You know it is. You must be able to sense it too?’

  To her surprise the frown smoothed to a quizzical ruffle. ‘Is that all?’ The frown disappeared altogether. ‘That’s it?’

  ‘All?’ Here she was turning inside out, and he said was it all. Men were unfeeling brutes, the whole lot of them. ‘It’s enough.’

  ‘It’s only going to get as complicated as we want it to,’ he said reasonably. ‘As you want it to. You can cool it any time.’

  Right now that was no help. Not the way she was feeling.

  ‘Have some more wine.’ He leant over and refilled her glass, and she wondered if his children would inherit his sexy mouth. And the eyelashes. They were really to-kill-for.

  Warning herself to go easy on the wine, Blossom said, ‘Do you always bring your girlfriends home for dinner?’ She hadn’t meant to say that, she thought in horror the next moment. Where had that popped up from? He’d think she was jealous
or something.

  Zak didn’t seem at all perturbed. A small smile lifting the corners of that oh-so-sexy mouth, he said, ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ She stared at him. Was he going to elaborate? A number would be nice—nine out of ten? Five? Two?

  By the time Geraldine returned with their main course, the silence had become painful, at least to Blossom. Not so Zak, it would appear. He appeared perfectly relaxed, utterly chilled.

  ‘Great.’ He stared at his plate happily. ‘No one does Cashel Blue steak like Geraldine. You’re in for a treat.’

  If all he could think about was his stomach…Blossom glared at him. He didn’t seem to notice. And the food did smell out of this world. She looked at her steak, and the roasted new-potatoes and steamed French beans reposing beside it. Picking up her knife and fork, she began to eat.

  Two glasses of wine and a double helping of apple cookies-and-cream crumble later, Blossom was finally relaxed. Zak had suggested to Geraldine that she and Will join them for coffee in the drawing room, when the housekeeper had cleared their dessert bowls, and now the four of them were sitting round a plate of Geraldine’s buttery shortcake, sipping the sort of coffee Melissa would definitely have approved of.

  In fact, her sister would have approved of Geraldine altogether. The housekeeper made all her own bread and biscuits, was a devotee of everything organic, and didn’t know the meaning of the world instant. Moreover, she was interesting. She and Will. The pair of them had travelled all over the world while waiting for the baby that had never happened, spending a year in this country and eighteen months in that, never putting down roots and just earning enough to pay their way. A nomadic existence right up to their sixties.

  ‘But we were happy, weren’t we, love?’ Will said quietly, looking at his wife in a way that brought a lump to Blossom’s throat. ‘Still are. We’ve had a charmed life.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Geraldine smiled back at her husband. ‘We’ve never had a penny to our name, and if we hadn’t met Zak when we did I doubt we’d be as comfortable as we are now, but we’d have got by. As long as we’d got each other.’

  Lucky, lucky things. Blossom stared at them, envying the couple with all her heart. She didn’t usually let herself dwell on the solitary future she had been forced into, but tonight it seemed to stretch before her like a great black hole.

  Then Zak entered the conversation, saying something wicked which made them all laugh, and the moment passed by. Nevertheless, it left an ache in her heart region she couldn’t shift. An uncomfortable pain that coloured the rest of the evening.

  It was past one o’clock in the morning when Will finally made noises about driving Blossom home. Looking at her watch, she was mortified to think she had left it so late for the elderly man; time had slipped by without her being aware of it. ‘It’s so late, Will. I’m so sorry. Please let me call a taxi. By the time you’ve driven me home and then come back here, it’ll be time for breakfast.’

  ‘A slight exaggeration.’ Will smiled. ‘And I wouldn’t hear of it. It won’t take two tics.’

  It would take a great deal more than two. ‘Please, I’d feel much better.’ She appealed to Zak when Will shook his head. ‘I don’t want to drag Will out at this time of night.’

  ‘This time of the morning,’ said Zak. ‘It’s tomorrow already.’

  Not helpful. And he couldn’t drive, having had three glasses of wine with the meal and then a brandy with his coffee. Not that it had affected him in the slightest, from what she could determine. The intimidatingly intelligent mind hadn’t seemed anything but razor-sharp as always.

  Blossom felt she had been proved right on that score when Zak said quietly and without much expression. ‘Why don’t you stay the night? There’s any one of a number of bedrooms to choose from, and Geraldine does a mean Sunday lunch.’

  Blossom looked at him. She might be wrong—possibly, maybe—but she’d bet everything she owned that he had purposely let the evening get so late with a view to putting this particular suggestion. She had played right into his hands. If she hadn’t said anything, ten to one he would have made some comment about it being late for Will himself.

  ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ she said firmly. ‘But I insist on calling a taxi. There are plenty available at the weekends.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it.’ Will entered the conversation again. Lovely though he was, Blossom could have strangled him. ‘I’ll drive.’

  For goodness’ sake! Blossom looked at Geraldine, but she got no help from that quarter. Instead the small woman smiled brightly. ‘The beds are aired in all the rooms.’

  Was this a conspiracy? Blossom scrutinised the older couple and then felt ashamed of herself. No, of course it wasn’t, but she was sure Zak had manoeuvred the lot of them. ‘I haven’t any night things,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t bring anything.’

  ‘There are spare toothbrushes and toiletries in all the guest bedrooms, along with bathrobes and so on.’

  If Geraldine thought she was being helpful, she wasn’t. ‘That’s very kind, but I really would prefer to go home.’

  ‘That’s no problem.’ Will stood to his feet. Zak eyed her in a ‘how could you do such a thing?’ way, but said nothing.

  Blossom admitted defeat. ‘Well, if it’s really no trouble to stay…’ She cast her host a baleful look.

  ‘Bless you, of course it isn’t,’ said Geraldine cheerfully. ‘And Zak normally has breakfast in bed with the Sunday papers. Is that all right?’

  ‘What?’ For a moment Blossom’s mind went into hyperdrive.

  ‘If I bring you a tray about nine?’ Geraldine didn’t seem to notice her flaming cheeks, for which Blossom was inutterably thankful. ‘And you’d probably be more comfortable in the blue room; it’s got a wonderful view of the garden from the balcony.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’d be lovely, but you don’t need to wait on me, I can easily come downstairs to the kitchen.’ Blossom could hear herself babbling, and could see Zak was trying not to smile out of the corner of her eye. He knew exactly how she was feeling, and he was relishing every minute of it. The rat.

  ‘No, no. I’ll bring you a tray. It’s what we do at weekends.’

  She had obviously said the wrong thing; Geraldine looked askance. Blossom glanced at Zak who smiled back cheerfully. She wasn’t going to win tonight. ‘Well, thank you,’ she said to Geraldine. ‘That would be lovely, if it’s no trouble.’

  ‘No trouble at all. Do you want me to show you the room now?’ Geraldine said helpfully.

  ‘Don’t worry, Geraldine,’ Zak intervened, his voice silky-smooth. ‘You and Will get off to bed. I’ll settle Blossom in.’

  Blossom stood up as the other two left the room. There was no way she was staying down here with him alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him—although she didn’t, and if tonight was anything to go by she had good reason to think that way—but that she didn’t trust herself. That little interlude before they had gone out into the garden had told her she was a pushover where Zak Hamilton

  was concerned, and being a pushover once in her life had been more than enough.

  Zak surveyed her through glittering eyes. ‘Want a nightcap?’ He gestured at the decanter of brandy. ‘Or a port, perhaps?’

  ‘No thank you.’ She kept her gaze steady. He knew she knew he had manipulated her into staying the night, but she was darned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of mentioning it. He’d deny it anyway. Or probably not, she amended in the next breath, which would be worse, forcing her to go down a path she had no intention of treading. ‘I’m tired; I’m ready for bed.’

  ‘Me too.’

  He stood up, and every muscle and sinew in her body registered the movement. To combat her appalling weakness, Blossom said briskly, and with more than a touch of desperation, ‘Geraldine and Will are very nice, aren’t they?’

  ‘Very nice,’ he agreed gently.

  ‘It must be lovely to know you’ve given such nice people a home an
d security in their latter years.’

  ‘Lovely.’ He nodded, his blue eyes caressing her mouth.

  ‘Zak—’

  ‘Yes?’ He’d moved closer.

  She shivered. ‘I don’t want…’

  ‘What don’t you want?’ The words were a breath on her face. ‘Tell me what you don’t want, my skittish beauty. Or perhaps…tell me what you do want.’

  She clung to the last remnant of reason. ‘I want to go to bed.’

  ‘So do I, sweetheart. So do I.’

  Chapter 7

  When Blossom awoke the next morning to a knock on the bedroom door she didn’t know where she was for a moment. Then it all came flooding back. This was Zak’s house. She was in his bed—well, one of them—and owing to the fact that she hadn’t worn a slip under her dress the day before she was stark naked under the summer duvet. And—she wriggled slightly—he had been a perfect gentleman when he had shown her to her room the night before. A brief stroking of her sealed lips and that had been all. Which was good. Very good, she reiterated, frowning. It meant she hadn’t needed to send him packing.

  Mind you…She fitted the duvet more closely round her. It would have been…polite for him to have shown a bit more enthusiasm. He was a master at blowing hot and cold.

  The knock came again, and with the duvet wrapped round her Blossom sat up against the thick pillows ready for when Geraldine carried the tray in. ‘Come in,’ she called, feeling a bit awkward at the elderly woman waiting on her like this.

  Except it wasn’t Geraldine outside after all.

  ‘Hi.’ Zak was wearing a black silk robe and matching pyjama bottoms, and he had obviously taken a shower because his black hair was still quite damp. He had had a shave too. As he came closer that seemed more intimate than anything, somehow.

  He was carrying the breakfast tray, a folded paper placed to one side of the food, and as he neared the bed he said, ‘Sleep well? Bed comfy?’

 

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