by Chloe Harris
Reinier took his napkin from his lap and placed it on his plate. “I was speaking of business, not personal matters—for the moment at least. Who have you got running things for you here? He should be commended.”
Her eyes grew unnaturally big. “I don’t wish to seem obtuse, but I’m afraid that I am the man you speak of. I run Bougainvilla on my own. I am the sole mistress here.”
On her own, did she? Reinier didn’t quite believe that. On the other hand, her father had been very smart when it came to business matters. If he’d taught her enough before his unfortunate death, it was indeed possible that she had run the estate ever since, with her lover’s help, of course.
“My apologies, madam. Then you are to be commended for taking on such heavy burdens and succeeding.” For a very small moment her mouth became slack and was in danger of dropping.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t left with much choice.” Her tone was quite sharp and she looked down her nose at Reinier. “And as you can see, I do quite well here—alone. There really was no need for you to bother coming by.”
At that, Reinier snickered. She didn’t know the half of it. Yes, she was rather agitated, maybe it was because he was here and she had to hide her lover or just because he’d annoyed her. Whatever the reason, it was a small victory on the path to triumph. He’d only just begun to play with her.
She staked a piece of mango on her plate and tried to ignore the offending, low chuckle from Reinier. Did he suppose a woman couldn’t possibly be as successful as she was on her own? How insufferably arrogant could he be?
It wasn’t like her to be easily provoked, but her initial irritation turned into white fury now. Why was he now interested in the estate? To get a share of its profits instead of the payoff money she planned to offer to be rid of him? Oh, that was just like him. The estate was none of his business! He was underestimating her if he thought her naïve.
She refused to look at him until her emotions were under control again. When she spoke, her tone was aloof but polite. “Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstances, sir, it is very fortunate that you’ve come here. There is a very small matter I’d like to discuss with you.” She set her napkin on the table and began to rise from her seat.
Reinier rose when she did. In one stride he was in front her, barring her escape from the room. When he inhaled, his nostrils flared. His eyes closed lazily as he tilted his head to the side.
“How do you feel now that I’m back?” Reinier leaned subtly closer.
Emiline halted and stared up at him unblinking, her indignation blazing through her.
“You must feel something.” He walked around her slowly. “Are you angry with me?” He whispered against her lips, looming even closer.
She turned her head away. “No, I’m not angry with you.” She’d given up feeling anything for him a long time ago. Stepping around him, she continued toward the door to get the papers from the study. He could sign them now and be gone. Out of sight, out of mind.
She grasped the doorknob with both hands, but Reinier had caught up with her again and held the door closed with his arms braced against it. A shiver ran through Emiline when she felt the heat of his body, although he was careful not to touch her.
“Or could it be that you’re glad I’m back, Emiline?” His words were low, sensual. Her name on his lips sounded like a promise, whispering over her treacherous skin that rippled with desire as her knees became dangerously weak. Closing her eyes, Emiline remembered what it was like—what he was like when he was on his most charming behavior, when he told her all the sweet things she needed to hear. She could feel his words tickling against the shell of her ear…
Emiline willed herself to come to her senses. She’d be damned if she didn’t go through with the plans she’d made.
Rudely, she thrust her shoulders and upper body back so that Reinier had to give her more room. His arms fell to his sides just as she turned to face him. She wasn’t the naïve girl he’d left behind anymore. She was a woman now—a strong businesswoman at that. He wanted to make this a tough business negotiation? Little did he know that she’d just begun.
“It is of no special consequence to me that you are here.” Her look was cold and callous. “Once again, I do not have any choice in the matter.”
Reinier captured her smaller hand in his and brought it up between them. “Oh, but there is always a choice, wife.” His voice was seductive and dangerously low.
Emiline felt the blood drain from her face as he held her hand. No man had ever dared touch her like that, not since…well, not since their honeymoon. She felt herself quiver inside.
“I wonder…Do you ever wish to be free?”
Did she ever…Oh! Emiline understood now. He wanted a divorce as well! What a very fortunate twist of fate for her. “Of you?” she blurted out, speaking faster than she could hear herself think. “Yes, of course! In fact—”
“No,” Reinier cut her off with a patronizing snort. “No, not of me, I’m afraid.” He used her hand, held close to his heart, to guide her back to the table again. Her fresh hope shattered, Emiline was now more confused than ever. She blinked up at him as he released her and backed up slightly from the table.
Reinier spread his strong arms wide. “Free of all this.”
What was he talking about? The mental image of what he asked was outright ridiculous.
The way her expression changed, the way the light in her eyes died to be replaced by cool determination and prudent intent was simply amazing for Reinier. He found himself eager to taste her confusion in the air. The scent of strawberries filled his mind and let sweet memories tickle up and down his body. He wanted to catch a bit more of her spice, even more alluring now that she was angry with him.
He leaned down and set his hands on the arms of her chair. “All you command. What I mean to say is…Have you ever wished for someone else to be in control? To turn over the burdens of rule, to let go of all the responsibility and control, and just be free to follow?”
Reinier could read it in her eyes. The mere thought that her mind had instantly gone in the right direction was so very arousing. She’d wished it already. But did she have any idea how far this would go, how far he’d take her if only she let him guide her?
He pulled away from her and gave her the space she needed.
Emiline rose from the table without Reinier stopping her this time, and she moved across the room toward the small fireplace in the center of the east-facing wall. She turned to the empty hearth, placing one hand on the mantel. Eventually, she pressed out between clenched teeth, “You do not know me.”
Reinier moved to the fireplace and stood directly behind her. He touched her dark, smooth shoulder lightly with the back of his knuckles and let his breath caress her perfect neck, marveling again at what true beauty he’d sailed away from.
“Oh, but I want to know you, wife,” he whispered.
At that, Emiline spun quickly, too quickly for Reinier to catch her small hand before it connected with his cheek with more force than he’d ever imagined she could have. The smacking sound reverberated throughout the room, the candles on the mantel flickered, and even the natural music of the West Indian night outside seemed to stop in time.
His last words had definitely struck a chord—his tingling cheek was proof of it.
They stood as they were for what seemed like hours but could have been only seconds. In those moments the morning tide was completely forgotten. Reinier couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be tomorrow. He had no intention of rushing things, he decided as he rubbed his cheek tenderly. He was always in the mood for a good challenge—thrived on it, in fact. Right then he was quite determined to spend a few days learning all about this new side of Emiline, the angry, passionate, and quite alluring facets of his wife he’d never seen.
Well, learning and then teaching, of course.
Emiline’s eyes were wide. She seemed horrified by her loss of control. The memory of how she shivered to his tou
ch earlier was still echoing in his mind, but now hatred must be tickling her palm as well. Was she just as furious at herself as she was at him?
In a slow movement, meant to give her enough time to react while the dark light in his eyes dared her not to, his hands lightly gripped her forearms. When he spoke, he hoped the rich sweetness of sensuality in his voice was adding insult to injury for her.
“You’ve changed, Emiline. I have definitely seen—and felt—that now.” He laughed lightly. “But the facts are as they are: You are my wife. And this is my home when I choose it.”
His fingers started to move over her skin on their own accord. There was a brief moment when he asked himself how he could have forgotten how magical her skin felt. His hands followed his fingers, slowly moving up and down her arms.
Telltale goose bumps rose on her flesh, but he could see she was determined not to show any reaction either to his words or his touch. Reinier might not have known in the beginning, but he had been waiting for this moment since he’d first stepped foot back on the island. He leaned down until his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers.
“I have rights here—like it or not.” His breath tickled her soft lips. “I think there’s been enough discussion for our first night. Now, come to bed, wife, and we can continue this tomorrow.”
Emiline stood frozen as she watched his pale, freshly shaven cheek turn an angry crimson and quickly start to fade again. In some small way it should have been a satisfying feeling, but it wasn’t. Nothing about her wayward husband was as it should have been. Looking farther up, she saw those cool, pale citrus-colored eyes twinkle.
Her spine tingled at the thought of what his kiss might feel like. For only a split second she let herself remember what his lips tasted like, how gently they could draw her in. But then she pulled away from Reinier’s arms with all her might.
He had no rights here after sailing out of her life on the ship her money had built. Oh, she would make sure those papers were signed and he was off her island sooner rather than later.
“As I told you, Monsieur Barhydt”—Emiline thrust her chin up indignantly to make her point clear—“I rule Bougainvilla, and I surely do not take your commands. But you are right about one thing, sir. We will continue this discussion tomorrow. Good night.”
Turning away and marching toward the door to the main hallway, the breath flew from her lungs as Reinier quickly came up behind her. His muscular arm gripped her small waist when he crushed her tightly against his body. Through the silk of her dress, she felt him aroused and straining against his breeches. Once again, a deep blush moved from her cheeks to the tightening tips of her breasts.
His breath was hot and demanding against her throat. “You may very well rule Bougainvilla, madam,” he purred into her ear, passion and promise all rolled into one. “But before I leave here again, I will rule you. And rest assured, wife, you will beg me to do it.”
Emiline’s whole body stiffened in resistance. As suddenly as he’d captured her, he let her go.
She wasn’t sure if it was his words or the definite twinge of excitement she felt that scared her most, but she knew she hated him for it. For that and the fact that this man she now considered barely more than a stranger somehow saw into the farthest part of her mind—a part that she only admitted to herself in the darkest of dark and lonely nights.
Not looking back, Emiline moved out of the room as quickly as she could without breaking into a dignity-killing run.
5
In her hurry, Emiline barely made it into her room without stumbling and almost ran into Justine, who had been waiting to help her undress and had jumped to her feet as soon as Emiline had opened the door.
“By that look and your haste, I take it things didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?”
That was quite an understatement. “Just a minor setback.” Emiline moved to the dressing table and began to remove the pins from her hair. “Nothing I can’t handle, truly.”
Justine walked up behind her. “Well, you can tell me all about it while I help you get ready for bed.”
“There’s no need. I can put myself to bed. You go on to yours and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Emiline caught Justine’s eye in the mirror. “I’ll be fine, really. I love you, but I’m not a child anymore. Now shoo.”
Justine sniffed at Emiline’s dismissal. “It’s not that. But if you say so, good night.” The maid curtsied and left.
Sighing with relief, Emiline rushed to the door and quickly bolted it from inside, then ran to the adjacent door that connected Reinier’s and her dressing rooms and bolted that door as well. That would show Reinier just how much she despised his being here.
He thought he had rights to everything here including her? Well, she’d be damned if she let him have any of them.
Her hand grasped the soft silk of her dress right above her wildly beating heart. Breathing hard, she told herself her hasty retreat was not an act of cowardice, but sensible and prudent. She’d been much too much of an easy prey for him the first time, but she knew his tactics now.
Emiline bit her lower lip and pushed away from the door. Stomping her foot, she couldn’t believe he was playing his games with her. Again.
She’d believed she’d learned from her mistakes. She’d succeeded in convincing herself that the spell between them was broken. Yet when he touched her, she knew she’d only deluded herself. She was still attracted to him.
But how could she be when he was nothing but a supercilious fop, the worst libertine she had ever met! Did he really think she didn’t know? Didn’t know that he had run off to sow his wild oats, never thinking about how he left her wounded and brokenhearted, left her to live with the certainty that she’d failed as a wife?
Reinier was too sure of himself. But he’d always been like that. It was part of what had attracted her in the first place. She had chosen him because he was the best, the one with more appeal and more drive than all the rest. Suitors had come en masse and left just as quickly after her rude refusals. Her father had only sighed and called them crazed tomcats. She’d laugh with him and say she knew they weren’t love-crazed over her personally, rather lusting after her dowry.
But then she’d fallen for the roaring cougar among the yowling tomcats. As soon as she’d first set eyes on him, Emiline had forgotten to be guarded. Her father had known, though. He’d warned her that cougars were solitary creatures. They weren’t meant to be tied down, and no one would ever be able to hold one. At least not for long.
She’d set out to prove to everyone she could be the perfect wife to the one no one else could tame. But as it turned out, her efforts had been in vain. She’d fallen in love and he hadn’t returned those feelings.
Emiline had been another person then. Now she knew that her life before him was ill spent. She’d lived through every day like the spoiled brat she’d been, too consumed with herself, too sure of the power she’d had with her father’s tremendous wealth. Looking back, she despised who she’d been then. There was nothing left of the girl he’d once married.
And now she was feeling miserable at her own confusing reaction to him. She sank to the floor and let her head rest against the solid wood of the door while her hands balled into fists.
Why did she feel so torn inside? Why did he have to be so charming? Why did he have to be the most irresponsible man on earth?
Emiline quickly turned her ear to the door. She could hear his footsteps and laughter in the other room. Why did that make her tremble?
Closing her eyes, she winced ever so slightly at the creak of the wooden floor in his room.
She really had forgotten how breathtaking he was. She’d made herself forget how sensual and incredibly reckless he was. How could she, after all those nights she’d spent in desolate loneliness, still want him? Her weakness was disgusting.
His words echoed in her head. He had been speaking of giving up her precious and hard-won control to him. Of course, her first reaction was that she’d been there,
had tried that, only it hadn’t been enough.
Her eyes were getting weary, and slowly Emiline got up from the floor. She fumbled with the last few pins in her hair until it was freed and fell loosely over her shoulders again. How she hated when she had to capture her hair in such a tight imprisonment.
Come to think of it, she’d started to wear it down when Reinier asked her to all those years ago. It was just to spite him that she had wanted to wear it up on her head again and hide its wild fullness from him.
Emiline slipped out of her shoes and unceremoniously kicked them into a corner. Her dress followed in much the same fashion. Once she’d put on her flimsy dress for the night and her nightgown, she felt calmer. She inhaled deeply as she sat down by the vanity table again and began to brush her hair.
She remembered only too well how proud she was to tell her friends she was engaged. They’d giggled in a silly manner, clapped their hands and congratulated her, and had shared more or less valuable insight on what to expect. That she should hold back and meekly accept his attentions, for men did not appreciate their wives being happy to welcome them. Also, they told her that what happened between husband and wife in private was something one could endure at best, or that men always sought their entertainment elsewhere; there was nothing you could do against it.
She scoffed at those pearls of wisdom she’d been given by her friends back then and threw the brush down with a frustrated huff. It occurred to her that none of her friends’ advice had done her any good. No matter how hard she’d tried, she knew he had never really loved her, just her money. He’d wanted a warm bed while he built his precious ship and that was that.
Recalling when she’d first sensed he was pulling away, she bowed her head in despair as the feelings revived once more. The more he’d kept to himself, the more she’d given. There were a few times when she hadn’t held back despite her friends’ advice and had come to him, wanting to, needing to feel him, craving to touch him as he touched her, giving him everything just to get his love in return. But it was useless.