In Her Enemy's Bed

by Penny Jordan

  ‘How long…’ Shelley licked her dry lips as she saw the glitter of something—anger? pain?—burn in his eyes.

  ‘No longer than necessary,’ he told her harshly.

  ‘Jaime—’

  ‘No, I don’t want to talk about it, Shelley. I wronged you, not once but twice. I dragged you into my personal fantasy—something I had no right to do.’

  ‘And now that you know I’m not the girl my father painted, you don’t want me any more; is that it?’

  She threw the words at him in her pain, but he didn’t make any response, simply walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

  * * *

  If Shelley had thought the first week of their marriage agony, during the second she began to learn what that word really meant. Jaime was a cool, distant stranger she didn’t even dare to talk to. He spent most of his time in his study, and didn’t even eat with her any more. She was alternately torn with a desire to go to him and plead with him to change his mind, and an equally intense need to escape. Living like this was tearing her apart. It was worse, far worse than the pain caused by her jealousy of Sofia, because this time her wounds were self-inflicted.

  Towards the end of the week Jaime told her that the advogado was coming to the quinta.

  ‘I shall discuss with him how matters can best be arranged. He will be here late this afternoon. Unfortunately I have a meeting with the winegrowers’ association which I must attend. Perhaps I could ask you to make him welcome in my absence?’

  He wanted her to welcome the man who was going to send her away from him? She wanted to scream at him that he was asking too much, but instead, she merely gave him a blank smile. Pain was something she was getting used to; she barely felt his sharpness any more, only its unending agony.

  Senhor Armandes arrived at four o’clock. Shelley offered him refreshment, and was aware of the concern in his eyes as he looked at her. She must hardly look the picture of a blooming bride. Had he any idea why Jaime had sent for him? What did it matter? He would know soon enough, but first there was some business of her own she wished to accomplish.

  If the advogado was surprised by her request that she wished to transfer the deeds of the villa and its surrounding land to Jaime, he didn’t betray it, commenting only that he was glad that at least some small part of the coastline would be preserved from such speculative ventures as that undertaken by various Lisbon builders.

  The mention of Sofia’s father made Shelley frown. ‘My father was totally against the land being sold for such developments, I know.’

  ‘Your father, and Jaime also. Both of them were dedicated to preserving the land as it has always been. I know that your father planned to plant vines there as Jaime has done at the quinta, but he died before he could put his plans into operation. Of course it was his intention that the villa and its land would be returned to Jaime on his death, but Jaime suggested that he should leave it to you.’

  How ironic that the lawyer should tell her this, now when it was too late, but the blame was all hers. Sofia could never have made trouble if she had only had the courage to believe Jaime when he said he loved her. And now it was too late.

  The advogado seemed to see nothing odd in her wish to sign over the villa to Jaime. The papers would take some time to prepare, he warned her, but they should be ready by the end of the week. It was plain to Shelley from his conversation that he believed Jaime had sent for him to discuss some matters concerning the quinta and his purchase of some outlying land. Shelley did not disabuse him. She left him an hour before dinner.

  When Jaime returned Shelley left the two men together.

  Upstairs in her room she prepared for dinner, first washing her hair, and then sitting down in front of her bedroom mirror to dry it.

  In the mirror she saw the bedroom door open and Jaime walk in. Immediately she switched off her hairdryer. Her heart was thumping unsteadily, and she was glad that the thick towelling of her robe concealed its betraying thud from him.

  He was frowning, and she noticed with a pang that the grooves alongside his mouth had deepened, and that his face looked faintly gaunt, as though he had lost weight.

  ‘What’s all this about you wanting to sign the villa over to me? I have just come from Senhor Armandes and he has told me of your wishes.’

  She had to turn away from him so that he wouldn’t see the pain in her eyes. ‘It’s for the best, Jaime…a clean break.’

  ‘You mean so that you have nothing to remind you of me…of our marriage,’ he said with a savagery that shocked through her. ‘And if you do carry my child…will you dispose of that as well?’

  The cruelty of it made her cry out in protest, her eyes filling with the weak tears she had tried to conceal. ‘How can you say that? You are the one who is sending me away. You are the one who…’

  He turned towards her, a driven expression on his face.

  ‘No…no, don’t touch me.’ She retreated from him instinctively, knowing if he touched her she would start begging him to let her stay. ‘If you do, I’ll never be able to leave.’

  The admission was wrenched from her against her will, her body shaking with nerves, Why on earth hadn’t she asked Senhor Armandes to say nothing of her intentions regarding the villa? Of course Jaime wouldn’t want her to give it to him; he would want nothing of hers now, not her love, not…

  She heard him breathe in raggedly, her eyes drawn to his face. He looked like a man at the very edge of his self-control.

  ‘Do you honestly think what you’ve just said is an incentive to stop me?’ he ground out incredulously. ‘Dear God, Shelley…’ He saw the look in her eyes, his mouth twisting cynically. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Not unless you…’

  He wanted her. He still wanted her! She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension invading the space between their bodies. As her eyes widened in recognition of his desire, he made a thick bitter sound in his throat. ‘Shelley, Shelley, what are you doing to me?’

  He reached for her almost clumsily, kissing her like a starving man. Her body seemed to melt into his and become part of it. She moaned his name beneath the famished heat of his kiss, winding her arms round his neck.

  ‘Jaime… Jaime…please don’t send me away. I know I hurt you… I…’

  He released her so abruptly she almost fell over.

  ‘Send you away?’ He stared at her. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I’m not sending you away, I’m giving you your freedom.’

  ‘I don’t want it. I want to stay here with you…be your wife…’ She could see him tensing every muscle as though in rejection of her soft-voiced plea.

  ‘Don’t say that unless you mean it.’ His voice was harsh with pain. ‘I can’t face a second rejection from you, Shelley; I think it would kill me.’

  She started to cry then, not for herself but for him, for the pain she had caused him.

  He made a sound in his throat like a man tortured to the point of death and then hauled her back into his arms, holding her so tightly that she could feel the fierce, almost frantic thud of his heart.

  ‘You said we had to part,’ she sobbed. ‘I thought it was because you didn’t love me any more…because I’d let you down with my lack of trust.’

  ‘No…no! I was sending you away because I thought it was what you wanted. You’d begged me not to rush you into marriage, but I wouldn’t listen. I had to have you. I was terrified when you said you wanted to go back to London. I’d wanted you for so long, and then to think that I might lose you—I didn’t plan for my mother to interrupt us that night, but when she did…I wasn’t altogether sorry because I knew she would insist on us marrying. I thought once we were married I could convince you that I loved you, but instead…’

  ‘Instead I listened to a vengeful, jealous woman.’

  ‘I’d have given my life not to hurt you like that…I knew Sofia must have done or said something, but you put me off the scent when you told me that you weren’t sure of your
feelings for me. I decided the only way I could be sure was to force Sofia to tell me the truth.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘She was going to. I made it clear to her that where she was concerned there were no lengths I wasn’t prepared to go to get the truth out of her, but my mother paged me before Sofia started to talk, and she told me instead.’

  ‘I thought I’d hurt you so much by not having faith in you that I’d killed your love.’

  Jaime took her hands in his and lifted them to his mouth palms upwards, dropping soft kisses into their cupped centres.

  ‘Nothing could do that,’ he told her quietly, ‘no power on this earth or outside it.’

  ‘But you were still sending me away.’

  ‘I thought it was what you wanted.’

  ‘Even after we’d made love?’

  He took a deep breath that told her of what he was feeling. ‘I never doubted that physically you wanted me. I was afraid that you would resent me for that as well. I wanted to give you a chance to discover just what you did feel for me, without the confusion of sexual desire.’

  ‘And now you know that I do love you.’

  ‘Now that I know that, there’s no way I’m ever going to let you go.’

  His hands slid beneath her robe as his mouth moved passionately against hers. Shelley forgot that she was supposed to be getting ready for dinner; she forgot that Senhor Armandes was probably already waiting downstairs for them, and it was Jaime who had to remind her unsteadily half an hour later that they were already late.

  * * *

  It must have been one of the shortest meals on record, Shelley thought a little guiltily two hours later as she walked into her bedroom, but this time not alone. Jaime was behind her, closing the door, switching off the light, taking her into his arms with an urgency that left her in no doubt of his feelings for her.

  ‘Poor Senhor Armandes,’ murmured Shelley against his mouth. ‘To come all this way for nothing. He’s bound to think it rather odd. Especially you saying that you wanted an early night because you have to be up early in the morning.’

  ‘What’s odd about that?’ He was kissing her throat, teasing the pulse that beat frantically there, his hand sliding down the zip of her dress.

  ‘Jaime, it’s barely ten o’clock!’ Shelley protested.

  ‘Mmm…as late as that? We’d better stop wasting time then, hadn’t we?’

  His mouth silenced any indignant protest she might have been about to make, and her body trembled eagerly in his arms as he slid away her dress.

  ‘I should have known the night we made love that you loved me,’ he said softly as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. ‘There is more than one way of giving trust, Shelley. You gave me yours when you gave me yourself.’

  His words wiped away her last feelings of guilt, her love for him shining in her eyes as he placed her gently on the bed, quickly stripping off his own clothes before joining her.

  Now no words were necessary; the way they touched and came together said it all, but as though he wanted to banish her doubts for ever, as he made love to her Jaime told her again and again of his love, so that it filled her senses like the softest, clearest light after the misery of the intense darkness. He loved her and she loved him. What possible need had she for anything more?

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of USA Today bestselling author

  Carol Marinelli’s next book,

  BOUND BY THE SULTAN’S BABY

  The second in her Billionaires & One-Night Heirs trilogy!

  Sultan Alim spent one forbidden night with Gabi—when he encounters her again, she refuses to name her child’s father. Alim will seduce the truth out of Gabi, even if he has to lure her under false pretenses. Alim knows he craves her, but does he desire her as his mistress or bride?

  Read on to get a glimpse of

  BOUND BY THE SULTAN’S BABY

  CHAPTER ONE

  GABI DERAMO HAD never been a bridesmaid, let alone a bride.

  However, weddings were her life and she thought about them during most of the minutes of her day.

  From way back she had lived and breathed weddings.

  Gabi was a dreamer.

  As a little girl, her dolls would regularly be lined up in a bridal procession. Once, to her mother’s fury, Gabi had poured two whole bags of sugar and one of flour over them to create a winter wedding effect.

  ‘Essere nerre nuvole,’ her mother, Carmel, had scolded, telling her that she lived in the clouds.

  What Gabi didn’t tell her was that at each wedding she made with her dolls, she pretended it was her mother. As if somehow she could conjure her father’s presence and make it so that he had not left a pregnant Carmel to struggle alone.

  And while Gabi had never been so much as kissed, as an assistant wedding planner she had played her part in many a romantic escape.

  She dreamt of the same most nights.

  And she dreamt of Alim.

  Now Gabi sat, flicking through the to-do list on her tablet and curling her long black hair around her finger, trying to work out how on earth she could possibly organise, from scratch, an extremely rushed but very exclusive winter wedding in Rome.

  Mona, the bride-to-be, stepped out of the changing area on her third attempt at trying on a gown not of Gabi’s choice.

  It didn’t suit Mona in the least—the antique lace made her olive skin look sallow and the heavy fabric did nothing to accentuate her delicate frame.

  ‘What do you think?’ Mona asked Gabi as she turned around to look in the mirror and examined herself from behind.

  Gabi knew from experience how to deal with a bride who stood in completely the wrong choice of gown. ‘What do you think, Mona?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Mona sighed. ‘I quite like it.’

  ‘Then it isn’t the gown for you,’ Gabi said. ‘Because you have to love it.’

  Mona had resisted the boutique owner’s guidance and had completely dismissed Gabi’s suggestion for a bright, white, column gown with subtle embroidery. In fact, Mona hadn’t even tried it on.

  Gabi’s suggestions were dismissed rather a lot.

  She was curvy and dressed in the severe, shapeless dark suit that her boss, Bernadetta, insisted she wear, so brides-to-be tended to assume that Gabi had no clue where fashion was concerned.

  Oh, but she did.

  Not for herself, of course, but Gabi could pick out the right wedding gown for a bride at fifty paces.

  And they needed this to be sorted today!

  Bernadetta was on leave and so it had fallen to Gabi to sort.

  It always did.

  The bigger the budget, the trickier the brief, the more likely it was to have been put into the ‘Too Hard’ basket and left for Gabi to pick up.

  They were in the lull between Christmas and New Year. The wedding boutique was, in fact, closed today, but Gabi had many contacts and had called in a favour from Rosa, the owner, who had opened up just for them.

  Rosa would not push them out, but they had to meet Marianna, the functions co-ordinator, at the Grande Lucia at four.

  ‘Why don’t you try Gabi’s suggestion?’ Fleur, the mother of the groom, said.

  It was a little odd.

  Usually this trip would be taken with the mother of the bride or her sister or friends, but it would seem that it was Fleur who had first and last say in things.

  Fleur was also English, which meant that, in order to be polite, Gabi and Mona did not speak in Italian.

  Yes, it was proving to be a long, tiring day.

  And they would be back tomorrow with the bridesmaids!

  Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Mona agreed to try on Gabi’s suggestion and then disappeared with the dresser.

  As Rosa hung up the failed gown she saw that Gabi was looking at another dress.

  Silver-grey, it was elegant and simple and in a larger size, and when Gabi held it up she saw the luxurious fall of the fabric. Ro
sa was a talented seamstress indeed.

  ‘It would fit you,’ Rosa said.

  ‘I doubt it.’ Gabi sighed wistfully. ‘It’s beautiful, though.’

  ‘The order was cancelled,’ Rosa said. ‘Why don’t you go and try it on? It would look stunning, I am sure.’

  ‘Not while I’m working.’ Gabi shook her head. ‘Anyway, even if it did fit, when would I get a chance to wear it?’ Her question went unanswered as the curtains parted and a smiling Mona walked out.

  ‘Oh, Mona!’ Gabi breathed.

  The dress was perfect.

  It showed off Mona’s slender figure, and the bright white was indeed the perfect shade against her olive skin.

  ‘If only she had listened to you in the first place,’ Fleur muttered. ‘We are going to be late for the hotel.’

  ‘It’s all taken care of,’ Gabi assured her, checking her list on her tablet. ‘We’re right on schedule.’

  Ahead of it, in fact, because now that the dress had been chosen, everything else, Gabi knew, would fall more easily into place.

  Measurements had already been taken but fitting dates could not yet be made. Gabi assured Rosa she would call her just as soon as they had finalised the wedding date.

  They climbed back into the car and were driven through the wet streets of Rome towards the Grande Lucia but, again, Mona wasn’t happy. ‘I went to a wedding at the Grande Lucia a few years ago and it was so…’ Mona faltered for a moment as she struggled with a word to describe it. ‘Tired-looking.’

  ‘Not now it isn’t.’ Gabi shook her head. ‘It’s under new management, well, Alim has been…’ It was Gabi who now faltered but she quickly recovered. ‘Alim has been the owner for a couple of years and there have been considerable renovations; the hotel is looking magnificent.’

  Even saying his name made her stumble a little and blush.

  Gabi saw Alim only occasionally but she thought about him a lot.

  Their paths rarely crossed but if Gabi was organising a wedding at the Grande Lucia and Alim happened to be in residence at the time then her heart would get a rare treat, and she was secretly hoping for one today.

  ‘Let’s just see how you feel once you’ve actually seen the Grande Lucia for yourself.’ Gabi suggested. ‘Remember, though, that it’s terribly hard to get a booking there, especially at such short notice.’