The Wedding Bargain

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “G-good night, then, Raif.”

  She turned to go. He put out a hand to stop her, catching her slender fingers in his own. He felt her tremble at his touch, and silently cursed himself for being a boorish idiot.

  “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

  “No, you weren’t,” she protested.

  “Yes, I was. And I apologize. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. You’ve had a tough day and it’s not you I’m mad at.”

  To his surprise, Shanal went up on tiptoes and lightly kissed his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She pulled her fingers free of his hold and went down the passage to the bedrooms. He remained rooted to the spot until she closed her door. Half his life he’d waited for that kiss. Fifteen long and often painful years filled with the crazy adolescent yearnings of a first crush. As he grew older and more in control of his emotions, there had even been the occasional dream fantasy that always left him wondering whether they’d be as good together as he’d always imagined. This was the first faint taste he’d gotten in real life of what he’d imagined in such feverish detail.

  Her touch had been as delicate as a butterfly’s, yet he still felt the imprint on his lips. Still felt the surge of fire through his veins at her closeness. Still wanted her with an ache that put his teenage self to shame. This was going to be one hell of a week; he knew it right down to his bones. Just as he knew that the word good couldn’t come anywhere near to describing what they’d be like together, should it come to that. In fact, even incendiary didn’t come close.

  In an effort to distract himself, Raif continued to tidy their things away, then poured himself another glass of wine. Maybe the alcohol would dull the allure of imagining Shanal asleep, in something of his, just down the hall. She was a tiny thing and would swim in his stuff. He groaned. This wasn’t helping. Even so, the picture of her dainty figure swamped in one of his T-shirts wouldn’t budge from his mind.

  He went out onto the rear deck and into the cool night air. He stared, unseeing, into the ribbon of river, barely noticeable beyond the lights of the boat, as a cloudy sky obscured all possible star and moonlight. Had he done the right thing in agreeing to come along on this ride with Shanal? Probably not, he had to admit. He’d thought he had this unrelenting attraction he bore for her under control, and yet tonight all that restraint had melted under the merest touch of her lips.

  It wasn’t as if she’d been the only woman to occupy his mind through these past years. In fact, the reverse was more accurate. He’d had plenty of other relationships, even loved one woman enough to consider asking her to be his wife. But something had always held him back. His reluctance to commit to Laurel had seen her finding solace in Burton Roger’s willing arms. And in the end, her life had been snatched away by one careless act.

  Careless? Or deliberate? Only one man knew for certain—possibly two, as they’d had a guide on that trip. All Raif knew for certain was that there’d been three people alive at the top of the waterfall that day, and one hadn’t survived. It was supposed to have been a controlled descent, but somehow Laurel’s rope had failed and she’d fallen horribly before drowning in the water hole at the base of the falls.

  A faulty knot, Burton had said, laying the blame fully on Laurel for tampering with a rope he’d already set. And that had been the coroner’s finding, too. But once Raif had pared away his grief and studied the incident, he’d felt there was more behind the death of his ex-girlfriend than anyone admitted. Burton had never been what Raif could have called a close friend, but after that incident there was no way Raif had been able to stand being in the same airspace as the guy. He didn’t like him and he certainly didn’t trust him.

  Which brought him full circle back to Shanal. Another woman who needed protection from Burton. Raif would stand by her and keep her safe for as long as she would let him, the way he wished he’d been there to protect Laurel on the trip that day.

  * * *

  Raif was locked in a nightmare. One where he hovered between the top of the waterfall and the water hole beneath. He saw the terror and panic on her face as Laurel plummeted past him, bouncing off the rocks before hitting the water with a splash and sliding beneath the surface. She was visible through the crystal clear water, and he could see her hair floating out from under the edges of her helmet. He dived into the pool, but no matter how hard he swam, he still couldn’t reach her. And still her screams echoed, over and over, “No! No!”

  He woke with a jolt, his heart racing and a cold sheen of sweat drenching his body. His chest burned with the breath he still held and he forced himself to let it go, and to try and release the horror of the nightmare.

  “No!”

  It took him a moment or two to realize he was actually hearing a woman’s cry—apparently that part of the dream had been real rather than a figment of his tortured mind. He moved from the bed, reaching for his jeans and skimming them up his bare legs. It took only seconds to swing his door open and follow the passageway to Shanal’s room. As he entered he could see her twisted in the sheets, her movements jerky and confined by the cocoon of bedcovers wrapped around her. She moaned in protest and he quickly moved to her side.

  “Shanal, wake up, it’s just a dream.”

  Her head thrashed from side to side and he spoke again, more firmly this time, his words a command rather than a suggestion.

  In the filtered moonlight from outside he saw her eyelids flicker and open. She stared at him in surprise, her cheeks wet with tears.

  “It’s okay, you’re all right,” he assured her.

  “I couldn’t get away this time,” she said in a shaky voice. “He wouldn’t let me go.”

  Raif tugged at the covers that surrounded her. “You probably dreamed that because you’ve got yourself all caught up in the bedsheets. Here, let me get you free again.”

  Shanal pushed herself to a sitting position the moment she was free. Her hand shook as she raked it through her hair. “God, that was awful. It felt so real.”

  “Dreams can be like that,” Raif answered, sitting on the bed beside her. His own nightmare continued to leave tendrils of horror clinging to the corners of his mind. “Want to talk about it?”

  “I... He... No, not really,” she said, wrapping her arms around her torso and giving a little shiver. “Thank you for waking me.”

  “No problem. I’ll leave you to get back to sleep.”

  He was at the door before she spoke.

  “Raif?”

  There was a slight wobble to her voice.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I know this is probably inappropriate...” Her voice trailed off.

  “What is it?”

  “Could you stay here with me tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.”

  Stay here? Was she crazy? Hell, was he? He sighed softly in the semidark. Obviously he was.

  “Sure.”

  He waited until she’d settled back down under her covers, and then lay on top of them beside her.

  “Thank you. I feel ridiculous, but there’s a part of me that’s expecting Burton to come through that door any second.”

  “Not going to happen. He doesn’t even know where we are.”

  “That’s good,” she answered, her breath a tiny puff of warmth against his bare shoulder. “Um, won’t you be cold on top of the covers like that?”

  Hardly likely, he thought, given the amount of blood pumping through his system. Did the woman have no idea how alluring she was with her hair all tumbled and dressed only in a thin T-shirt—his T-shirt—that did next to nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts or the shape of her nipples through the well-washed cotton?

  “I’ll be fine. G’night.”

  He determinedly closed his eyes, even though he could still feel her looking at him, and forced his breathing
into a slow and steady rhythm. It didn’t take long before he heard her breathing fall into the same deep pattern. He opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow so he could watch her as she slept.

  Her black hair was an inky shadow across her white pillowcase, her eyelashes dark crescents sweeping her face. His gut clenched. Was it possible she was even more attractive asleep? Maybe it was because she seemed softer like this, more approachable. Touchable. He curled his hands into fists, determined not to reach out and touch that silky swathe of hair, or to trace the fine shadow of her cheekbones.

  He closed his eyes again. It was going to be a long, long night.

  Five

  Shanal woke with a deep feeling of contentment and an awareness that she was safe, secure and deliciously warm. Outside she could hear the soft patter of rain. A pair of strong arms, lightly dusted with dark hair, encircled her and she was snuggled up against a very strong, very warm and very bare chest.

  A powerful ripple of pure feminine delight spread through her body. Even from between the sheets, she could feel the hard evidence of his arousal. Instinctively she flexed against his hardness, before she realized what she was doing, and with whom.

  She pulled away slightly and looked up at Raif’s face. Blue eyes, languid with slumber, looked back at her.

  “Good morning,” she said shyly.

  She felt a pang of remorse for moving and waking him when he untangled his arms from around her. Raif sat up and rubbed at his face.

  “Good morning to you, too. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Like a baby, thank you.”

  “Good.”

  He was off the bed and heading for the door before she could protest. But then, what would she say? Would she beg him to stay and hold her again? She buried her face in her pillow. What kind of message was that to send anyone, anyway? Yesterday she’d been ready to marry another man and today she wanted Raif to stay and tangle the sheets some more with her? What was she thinking?

  Shanal forced herself from the bed and quickly made it before heading to the bathroom. There, she had a hot shower and dressed again in Cathleen’s jeans and T-shirt, topping it off with a thick sweater of Raif’s she’d found in the bag he’d left in her room. The sweater was far too big for her, of course, reaching to the top of her thighs. She rolled up the sleeves and considered her image in the bathroom mirror. Not too ridiculous, but then again she wasn’t here for a fashion show, was she? No, she was supposed to be getting her head straight and figuring out how on earth she was going to solve her family’s financial woes, and what she would do if she had no job.

  It was ridiculous to think that Burton would still let her keep her position as head of viticulture research and development at the lab. A man like him didn’t take kindly to public humiliation. Although, having seen him work the media on more than one occasion, Shanal figured he’d have spun something suitable to ensure he didn’t lose face. But spinning the situation undoubtedly meant blaming someone—and that someone would have to be her. So no, she wouldn’t have a job anymore.

  She loved her work with a passion that didn’t extend to any other part of her life. It was her everything. While she’d always hoped to find love of the kind her parents shared, and which she’d watched bloom between Ethan and Isobel, in the absence of it she’d always been happy to focus solely on her research. While it didn’t bring physical reward, it did emotional rewards of a sort, not to mention the recognition and accolades that came along with a job well done.

  But if she didn’t have her job, she’d have to look for work elsewhere. That could mean leaving Adelaide, leaving her parents. The thought of doing so as her father’s illness progressed sent a chill through her. With no extended family in Australia, they were all each other had. She had to hope that Burton would be charitable about her reneging on their agreement to marry, and refrain from blacklisting her with other Australian facilities, even if he didn’t allow her to keep her job at Burton International.

  A knock on her bathroom door jolted her from her thoughts.

  “You okay in there?”

  Raif, checking up on her again. What did he think she was going to do? Drown herself in the plug hole? She reached for the door and opened it.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Hungry, though. Shall I put our breakfast together?”

  “If you’d like. I can cast off and we can start heading upriver while you get it ready.”

  “Sure,” she agreed, pleased to have something to do. Anything, really, to take her mind off the confusion of her thoughts.

  In the kitchen, Shanal rummaged through the refrigerator and the pantry.

  “How does French toast and bacon sound?” she called to Raif, who manned the helm.

  “Better than cereal, that’s for sure,” he said with a smile that all but took her breath away.

  She stood there like an idiot, captured by his male beauty for far longer than was acceptable for people who were merely acquaintances—even if they had shared a bed last night. Shanal forced herself to the business at hand. What was it again? Breakfast. That’s right. She flicked a glance back Raif’s way. His focus was wholly on the river ahead, which was just as it should be, she told herself sternly.

  So what if she had felt a tingle run from head to foot when he’d smiled at her? It didn’t mean anything. He was a good-looking guy, and was well aware of his charms—nor was he afraid to use them to his advantage. She’d seen the evidence of that at many a Masters family gathering, when Raif had brought one girl after another. The only girlfriend of his that she’d seen more than once had been Laurel. And, Shanal realized, since the other woman’s death, Raif had either been scarce at family do’s or had come alone.

  Shanal put a pan on the stove to heat for the bacon, and then broke eggs in a shallow bowl and whipped them with a little milk, nutmeg and cinnamon, adding a tiny dash of vanilla extract to the mixture. The cabin soon filled with the scent of frying bacon, and by the time she popped the strips onto a plate in the oven to keep, and added the egg-mixture-soaked bread slices to the pan, her stomach had begun to growl.

  “Smells good,” Raif commented from his vantage point.

  “It’s about the only thing I know how to cook well,” Shanal said with a laugh. “So I do hope it tastes okay.”

  “How is that?” Raif asked, turning in his chair to look at her.

  “How is what?”

  “That you can only cook one thing.”

  Shanal had the grace to look a bit ashamed. “Even after I left home my mum still cooked for three every night. Before I moved back in with them, she would put meals in her freezer for me and I’d gather them up, a load at a time, when I came over to visit. So I never really had to think about cooking when I got home from work.”

  Raif laughed out loud and she felt that tingle all over again. Even when he was serious, the man was gorgeous, but laughing? Well, it made something deep inside her clench tight. To avoid examining that odd sensation any further, Shanal quickly turned the bread, then set the table.

  “Did you want coffee or tea with breakfast?” she asked, realizing that for all she’d known him half his life, she knew very little about him.

  But she wanted to.

  Her breath caught on a gasp as she burned herself on the side of the frying pan. Where on earth had that thought come from?

  And why now?

  “Coffee, please,” Raif responded, blissfully unaware of the turmoil she was going through.

  “Coming right up.”

  Ignoring the sting of the burn, she quickly set the coffeemaker to go and added the next batch of bread to the frying pan. In no time the pieces were golden and she plated them up. But with her thoughts still in a whirl, she realized that she wasn’t so hungry anymore.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she said.

  “Great
, just give me a minute to pull in over there.”

  He gestured to a small indentation in the riverbank, then nosed the boat in and cut the engine.

  “Don’t we need to tie off?” Shanal asked.

  “We should be okay here while we eat, since we’re out of the current. If there’s a problem I’ll just start her up again.”

  Shanal poured their coffee and took the mugs to the table. As she did so, Raif’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “Is that a burn?” he asked, grabbing her hand and turning it so he could inspect the redness more closely.

  Shanal tried to tug free. “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. You need to run some cold water over that.”

  “Seriously, Raif, it’s nothing.”

  He ignored her and led her to the kitchen sink, where he held her hand under the cold tap. The entire time, she was aware of his closeness, of the latent power in his male body, of the gentleness in his touch as he cradled her hand in his. The water might have been cold, but she felt anything but. In fact, heat simmered inside her in a way she’d never experienced before. Heat...and something else.

  “How’s it feeling now?” Raif asked.

  “Fine.”

  Her voice sounded husky. Embarrassed by her reaction to him, she pulled her hand free and reached for a towel.

  “Here, let me.” Raif took it from her before she could protest and gently patted her skin dry. “I saw some aloe gel in here before... Ah, here it is,” he said, as he poked through a small first-aid box she hadn’t noticed on top of the refrigerator.

  Raif squeezed a small amount on her hand, his touch light as a feather as he smoothed it over the burn.

  “You should be good as new in no time. Any more pain?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, it’s good now. Seems I’m always finding reasons to thank you lately,” she said, feeling ridiculously shy all of a sudden.