by Maggie Cox
Pressing the coolness of his glass against his heated forehead, Reece choked back a protesting groan and for a moment was completely gripped by the shudder of violent longing and regret that shivered through him when he thought about the baby they had lost.
Had it been a boy or a girl? Don’t go there, his own silent voice warned him, briefly allowing the searing pain of the thought to grip him with a vengeance. Would the child have been as fair as Sorrel, maybe favouring the dark emerald of Reece’s own eyes? Whatever their offspring had looked like, Reece would have loved him or her without reservation and with all his heart.
Would Sorrel consider trying for another baby with him? The wild clamour of his heartbeat almost deafened him. Would she want to try again in spite of all that had happened between them? Or was he destined to go through life without ever learning what it was like to be a father? Somehow he knew that would be a real tragedy. Of course he might eventually meet someone else, if he and Sorrel split up, have a child with them, but right now the idea was anathema to him.
He truly regretted that he’d never talked to his wife more about what she wanted from their union. If he was honest with himself he’d known all along she wasn’t a typical career girl. Even the glamorous allure of the fashion business had not been able to captivate the interest of his lovely wife. She was her own woman, with her own ideas about how she wanted to live her life. And two things were now crystal-clear to Reece. One, she was clearly cut out to be a mother, and not a career girl or some pretty adjunct to her husband’s career…. And two, she clearly no longer wanted to be married to him.
Tipping back his glass, Reece swallowed what was left of his whisky and welcomed the heated burn that slid so outrageously smoothly down into his stomach. He was not a man who gave up easily on anything he set his mind to, but it was a particular kind of torture to him to witness Sorrel walking around looking so unhappy. He couldn’t do it to her. He couldn’t make her stay with him when she was clearly wrestling with the idea that she might not want to.
So tomorrow they would talk about separating for good, and Reece would state his intention to gift her a generous provision of money and property to start her new future without him. When they returned to the UK they would revisit the offices of Edward Carmichael and Co., and Reece would instigate divorce proceedings as he’d originally been going to do. Then, when he’d told Sorrel his plans, he would telephone Angelina Cortez and accept her offer of promoting her new American tour. The tour would take him out of the UK for a year at least—by which time Sorrel would be much more settled in her new life and hopefully Reece would have gone some way to forgetting the beautiful blond angel he had married with such ludicrously high hopes…
‘Reece?’
Her voice startled him so much that he almost dropped the glass he held in his hand. Turning slowly, he saw her standing between the opened patio doors, wearing a long ice-green silk nightdress and a matching robe. She’d left her hair loose and the ends lay in delightful rings of luxuriant curls about her slender shoulders, bright and glossy and infinitely touchable.
Frowning, Reece said nothing for almost a full minute. He was both perplexed and hypnotised by her sudden bewitching appearance when he’d been certain she’d been in bed asleep all this time.
‘What is it?’ he said finally, his voice sounding slightly rough. He knew it was the effects of both the whisky and his tiredness.
‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’
‘Now, what exactly does that mean, Sorrel?’
Unable to keep the slight bite from his tone, Reece put his glass down on the concrete ledge behind his knees and dropped his hands to his straight, lean hips.
‘It means are you coming to bed because I—?’ She dipped her head, and if she hadn’t been shadowed by the moonlight and the muted lighting round the terrace Reece would have sworn that she blushed as hard as any virgin. ‘I’d like to come with you.’
Swallowing hard, Sorrel wished her heart wouldn’t beat so fast, because it was causing a spinning sensation in her head that almost made thinking impossible. Had she left it too late to try and make amends? Reece’s expression gave nothing away, his jaw implacable and the thoughts behind those arresting green eyes of his worryingly undetectable. Was he thinking about the vivacious Angelina Cortez and wishing that it were her inviting him to bed instead of his wife?
‘And when did you decide that?’
He folded his arms across his chest in the white linen shirt that flattered his taut, lean musculature to perfection, and Sorrel caught the glint of the solid gold wristwatch that circled his tanned wrist. ‘Please don’t be so cynical,’ she begged. ‘This isn’t easy for me, you know.’
Smoothing her hand down the sensuous silk of her robe, she couldn’t help but shiver at the mockery that had been clearly evident in Reece’s tone.
‘What’s the matter, Sorrel? Did you have another nightmare? That’s all I’m good for, isn’t it? Keeping nightmares away. Or are you of the opinion that it’s me who causes them? Tell me—I’d really like to know.’
‘Have you been drinking?’
Nervously her eyes darted to the empty glass Reece had left on the ledge. It had been a totally stupid idea to come out here and expect him to jump for joy because she’d suggested she’d like to sleep with him tonight. Now Sorrel could see that she had made a big mistake. She should have just left him to his whisky and his foul mood.
‘What if I have? Go back to bed, Sorrel. Don’t waste your time play-acting on my account. It’s a little too late in the day to start trying to behave like a real wife, don’t you think?’
The barbed insult—used once before to searing effect—hit Sorrel hard. She’d been genuinely intent on trying to meet her husband halfway. But, even though she was hurt, she stayed where she was, her jaw lifted and her blue eyes determined as she faced Reece out.
‘I’m not “play-acting,” Reece. I want to be a real wife to you. I know you have needs, too, and that—I—I haven’t been considering them in the light of everything that’s happened. I’m sorry that I’ve behaved that way, I honestly am.’
Swallowing down his initial resentment, Reece couldn’t tamp down the flicker of hope that leapt into his heart at her surprising words. He’d fully expected her to engage him in another bitter, useless argument. But now, as he watched her standing there—looking so beautiful and with obvious hope in her eyes—he allowed his blood to heat without trying to immediately extinguish his desire because he assumed he hadn’t a hope in hell of having it fulfilled.
‘An apology? My, my…I didn’t expect that.’
Although his words were faintly mocking, they weren’t cruel or dismissive, and a small sizzle of warmth settled inside Sorrel’s stomach and wouldn’t go away.
‘Do you have any idea how much I ache for you? I swear to God you must have been put on this earth to drive me crazy.’ He started to walk towards her. ‘Do you know that?’
Shivering with the force of her own desire, Sorrel drew the sides of her robe together with trembling hands. Coming to a halt just in front of her, Reece was literally stopped in his tracks by the scent of a favourite perfume she wore, which he’d used to love. The warmth from her body seemed to reach out to him and make the ache that was already besieging him grip him so savagely that he almost swayed.
Unable to resist her charms any more than he could resist breathing, he considered her nervous blue gaze, and the peaches and cream complexion that was no less perfect from being scrubbed clean of make-up, and, using his thumb and forefinger to capture her jaw, impelled her startled face towards him. ‘Do you really want to spend the night with me?’ he asked, gravel-voiced.
‘I…’ Sorrel bit slowly down on her lip, hot colour pouring into her cheeks. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then let’s go to bed, shall we?’
Surprising her, he lightly caught hold of her hand, then led her through the living room, out into the hallway and down the corridor to where the bedrooms were.<
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She took off her robe, laid it over a pink satin slipper chair in the corner of the room, and quickly climbed into bed. As she drew the covers up to her chest, Reece stood by the side of the bed and stripped off his shirt, quickly followed by his trousers. Already barefoot, he stood in front of Sorrel as God had made him—except for the white cotton boxers that sat low on his hips. There wasn’t a single inch of the man that wasn’t totally pleasing to the eye.
He’d always worked out a little, but basically Reece was one of those lucky individuals who had been born with more than his fair share of natural beauty. Whether he was sporting a tan or not, his sublime skin was smooth and supple and warm to the touch, with enough taut, sinewy muscle rippling underneath to make even the most inured female blush with pleasure.
Holding her breath, Sorrel cast her hungry gaze over his flat, perfectly proportioned stomach and—daring a little further south—caught a glimpse of the darker blond hairs that wove seductively down into his boxers.
Switching off the lamp by the bed, Reece finally divested himself of his underwear and climbed in beside Sorrel. The sheets were cool, but the temperature emanating from her husband’s body definitely was not. Her skin began to tingle in anticipation. Even though she knew that she might have to live with her frustration at not being able to fully participate in their lovemaking, Sorrel was determined that she would show Reece that she was very much a ‘real’ wife when it came to the bedroom department. They might have sorted out zilch when it came to their relationship, but this was one area of their marriage that had always worked better than clockwork…the one area where communication had always been ten out of ten.
Lying back on the pillows, Reece drawled lazily, with a bad-boy smile, ‘So now you’ve got me here…what do you intend to do with me?’
He was—did he but know it—setting the tone for what Sorrel had in mind.
Moving over to his side, she swept her hand deliberately sensuously down his chest to the flat of his stomach. Immediately she sensed his almost violent reaction. Then he went very still, and all Sorrel could hear was the sound of his slightly quickened breathing.
‘Did you know…?’ she said softly, letting the shoestring straps of her ice-green nightgown fall unchecked over her silky shoulders, exposing the darkened cleft between her breasts to his enraptured gaze. ‘…that there are more than seventy-two thousand nerve endings in your hands? Close your eyes…let me show you.’
Warming to her game, and to the unexpected sense of wicked anticipation that she was stirring inside him, Reece obediently shut his eyes. Lifting his hands, Sorrel placed his palms on her shoulders. She let them linger there for a moment, introducing them to the warmth and texture of her skin, then slowly, deliberately, guided them down to her breasts. She laid them on her tight aching nipples beneath the cool silk of her nightwear, biting her lip to control her own helpless desire to whimper and moan with pleasure at his touch. Then, when she sensed Reece’s anticipation heighten, she pulled down the straps of her gown completely, exposing her bare breasts to the delighted and hungry exploration of his hands.
‘See what I mean about nerve endings?’ she whispered, leaning forward to lightly stroke down his face with her fingertips.
He opened his eyes and gazed fully on the sight of her flushed absorbed expression, and the beautiful pale breasts with their rosy tips that poured into his hands. Her beauty almost undid him there and then. The only destination of every red blood vessel in his body was south…right down to the tip of where Reece ached to feel Sorrel’s touch the most.
‘Let me kiss you,’ he entreated, his voice no less than a grated hungry rasp.
Sorrel drew back with a teasing little smile around the edges of her lips. ‘Not yet. I’m the one in charge…remember?’
Remembering with a groan, he momentarily protested as she moved his hands away from her breasts and slid them down past her waist to her hips. Then, when he’d anchored them fully either side of her, everything in him jumped to startled attention as Sorrel leant forward again and started to stroke her warm silky tongue over his nipples. Just when she’d captured his attention for life, she started to lightly lick down his chest to his stomach, and the lower her mouth travelled the more tense and hungry Reece grew.
Finally, when he didn’t think he had it in him to hold out for even one more second without breaking out into a sweat, she took him into her mouth and Reece literally thought she was going to have to scrape him off the ceiling. Because of their sexual drought, Reece knew he couldn’t hang on for long—but he also knew that he desperately wanted to pleasure Sorrel, too. So gently, carefully, he guided her back to him, whispering soft entreaties of need and want and finally capturing her lips with his and kissing her so hard that she whimpered between ragged breaths and fell onto his taut, flat stomach in helpless surrender.
‘Now I want you on your back.’
Reece smiled, breaking contact momentarily, his lascivious green eyes making Sorrel feel as if she was going to melt into bliss right there. Then he manoeuvred her quite effortlessly into the position he wanted, his hands strong and determined.
It was wonderful to experience such intimacy again after so long, and Sorrel was only amazed that she had withstood the need for his touch for what now seemed like an eternity.
Stripping off her gown, he surveyed her semi-naked figure with a hot glance, a brief flare of regret and concern in his eyes as he regarded the black lace panties she was wearing.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
As he asked the question, he stroked the flat of his hand across her smooth, ever so gently rounded stomach, and Sorrel thought she saw him wince. Knowing that he was thinking about the baby she’d lost, she swallowed down the intense pain inside her own throat and touched her fingers lightly to his sculpted, shadowed jaw.
‘I’m fine,’ she told him. ‘I can’t go all the way—but we can still give each other pleasure, can’t we?’
‘Sweetheart, your wish is my command. I’ll pleasure you all night, if you want me to. And if that’s not enough…then we’ve got all day tomorrow, too.’
But even as he joked with her, to take the sting out of the searing ache he felt inside, Reece knew that the innocence of their love had been nothing less than devastated by their shared experience of sorrow….
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LEAVING Reece to sleep in, the next morning Sorrel jumped in the car and drove to the little seaside market town on her own. It was the first morning she’d woken in a long time with something near to optimism in her heart.
Last night in bed Reece had been both loving and tender, and even though Sorrel had sensed a certain amount of reticence in him emotionally, she told herself that she’d been brave enough and determined enough to show him that she really did want to work at rebuilding their marriage. She hadn’t let the sun go down on another row, or started another new day with more bad feeling and resentment.
Seeing Reece with a beautiful woman like Angelina had spurred Sorrel into the realisation that she still loved her husband deeply and didn’t want their relationship to break up for good. She really couldn’t tolerate even the thought of him being attracted to someone else, let alone marrying again if they divorced. Together, she told herself, they would find a way to make things work. They would explore solutions to meet their different wants and needs, and maybe attain a compromise that would satisfy them both. She could only hope and pray that it might be possible.
As she walked along the narrow uneven streets after purchasing some fruit and vegetables from the market stalls—taking her time to soak up the ambience and atmosphere—Sorrel lifted her face to the sun and felt her heart skip a beat at the idea of returning to the villa and seeing Reece again. She was planning on telling Ines that she would cook tonight, so their friendly housekeeper could have a night off. All she wanted to do right now was be alone with Reece and try and mend some bridges that had long been seared between them.
But when she got back to the villa and saw a gleaming Mercedes that she did not recognise parked in the front courtyard, Sorrel felt her heart skip a beat for a different reason. As she carried her straw bag of shopping towards the house, the happy sound of a child calling out fell on the air, quickly followed by the sound of delighted male laughter. Reece. Clearly they had visitors, but who?
Instead of going into the house, as she’d originally intended, Sorrel walked round to the back of the villa. And there on the beautifully kept sparkling green lawn she saw Reece throw a ball baseball-style to a small dark-haired boy in a checked shirt and red shorts. Sitting on a bench alongside, watching, was Angelina. Dressed from head to toe in white, with huge black sunglasses shielding her eyes, she looked just as if she’d stepped out of the pages of Vogue or Marie Claire.
Dry-mouthed, Sorrel caught Reece’s eye and he waved—just as though everything was as it should be and absolutely nothing was amiss. But, apart from the blow she’d received at the sight of Angelina sitting there, Sorrel was also having trouble containing her emotion at seeing Reece playing with the child…clearly Angelina’s son Emmanuel. The thing that got to her was that he looked so heartbreakingly natural with the boy—as though it took no great effort on his part at all to be friendly or companionable with him. A shaft of pain moved through her at the idea that her own inability to carry a baby to term had deprived Reece of his own child…perhaps a son?