The Marriage Proposition

by Sara Craven

  She put up a hand and touched his face, her fingers shy as they lingered on his skin. She whispered, ‘I absolve you…’

  ‘Paige.’ The name seemed wrung out of him. ‘Ah, dear God.’

  She lay back against the pillows and he followed her down, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her parted lips.

  He said softly, ‘I was watching you on the beach this afternoon while you slept. Wondering what it would be like to do this…’ He slipped down the lacy straps of her nightgown. ‘And this…’ He slid the silken bodice away from her breasts, baring them to the hunger of his eyes—and, she discovered, gasping, his mouth.

  His lips caressed and adored each delicate scented mound in turn, coaxing the rosy nipples to pucker and harden as his tongue circled them in languid sensuality.

  Paige heard herself moan under the force of a pleasure so intense it was almost pain. Her head fell back and her whole body arched in a longing she had never known before. That she had never believed could exist.

  And when his lips returned to hers, kissing her deeply, sensuously, his fingers continued the delicious torment of her breasts, stroking and fondling the aroused peaks.

  The storm hadn’t passed, she thought dazedly. It was here in this room, in this bed, raging in her blood, her pulses echoing the tumult of the thunder.

  From the moment of that first kiss her body had been longing for this, her senses on fire. She could deny it no longer.

  Her hands parted his robe, pushing it from his shoulders. He was naked beneath it, as she’d always known he would be, and her hands moved on him feverishly, learning the strength of bone and the play of muscle as their mouths teased and sucked and tore.

  Nick’s breathing was harsh and ragged as his hands explored her in turn, brushing aside her nightgown as if it was a cobweb.

  His fingers cupped the curve of her hip, then slid down to part her pliant thighs and master the secret, scalding heat of her.

  Her whole body shuddered with pleasure at his touch. She heard her voice, small, driven, say, ‘Yes—oh, yes…’

  And knew at that moment that everything had suddenly, shockingly, changed. Felt him rear back from her almost violently. Distance himself.

  Paige’s eyes flew open. His back was turned to her, slicked with sweat. He was reaching for his robe and dragging it on, tightening the belt round his waist with swift, angry emphasis.

  ‘Nick? What is it?’ Her whisper cracked in the middle. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Just about everything, I’d say. Wouldn’t you?’ The face he turned to her was a mask, cold and remote.

  ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘It’s quite simple.’ He sounded like a polite stranger. He shrugged. ‘I thought I could do this—but I can’t.’ He took the rumpled sheet and drew it across her body. Covering her. Making his rejection of her complete. And frighteningly final. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry?’ She hadn’t realised it was possible to feel such pain—such shame. It was a knife being twisted inside her—by the hand of an expert.

  And she had invited this. Had brought it upon herself. Something she would never be able to forget. Or forgive.

  She thought, I want to die…

  She huddled further into the mattress, wishing she could escape, or at least make herself invisible.

  She hardly recognised her own voice. ‘I—think you’d better go.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nick said quietly. ‘I think so too.’

  She closed her eyes again. She could not bear to watch him walk away. To have her humiliation redefined like that.

  When she heard the door close quietly she released her indrawn breath with a little sob, stifled against her clenched fist.

  He was wrong about her dream, she thought, as the first tears began to burn in her eyes. All the rooms were empty. And her heart was the emptiest of all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EVEN after all these months the memory still had the power to sear her to the bone. She had carried it with her like a wound that refused to heal. A potent, burning reminder of her own stupidity.

  And of a mistake she had sworn she would never make again.

  Yet here she was once more, alone with Nick in the darkness while another storm raged outside. Only the location had changed. And he wasn’t on the other side of a closed door this time either.

  In spite of her high resolve to shun him, a crazy mischance had condemned her to his company. All she’d managed, she thought bitterly, was to come full circle. It was almost funny, so why wasn’t she laughing?

  Yet it could have been avoided. She could have taken the job Brad offered, made it clear that theirs would only be a business relationship, and waited out the months for her divorce on St Antoine in comparative peace.

  That was, of course, if Nick would have allowed such a thing.

  ‘I haven’t finished with you.’ That was what he’d said on the beach—was it only last night? Already it seemed like several lifetimes ago. He’d promised to play no more games, but those words still haunted her.

  Had he been speaking personally or professionally? she wondered restively.

  Whatever, she should have faced up to him—made him explain himself. Because if she was going home to more trouble, as seemed only too likely, then she needed to know about it. Forewarned, after all, was forearmed.

  But a serious talk with Toby seemed inevitable. For one thing she needed to tell him that her job with Harringtons just wasn’t working out, and that she’d be looking for alternative employment almost at once.

  She needed to change her life. To slough off the past year and begin again. She might even go abroad, she thought, but not back here to the Caribbean. In her heart she knew that would not be a sensible move—and not fair on Brad, either, who would always hope for more than she could ever give him.

  A friend of hers had spent a year in Australia on an exchange with a journalist working on a Sydney-based magazine. Maybe she could arrange something like that.

  But it was hard to be positive when you felt sick and numb. When all you could really think about was the man, silent in the darkness, only a few feet away.

  The non-husband who had somehow forced his way back into her consciousness and her life.

  She moved restlessly, seeking a cool place on the pillow.

  ‘Are you all right?’ He spoke quietly and Paige froze, then invented a sleepy murmur. He’d heard her, even above the noise of the storm.

  It was disturbing to think that Nick might be as aware of her as she was of him. And she didn’t need his concern—his compassion—now, any more than she’d done a year ago.

  She hadn’t slept at all for the rest of the night, she recalled. She’d found her nightgown and dragged it on, and lain under the covers, her arms wrapped round her shivering body.

  Suddenly the darkness she hated had seemed almost friendly. Because what was she going to do when she had to face Nick in daylight? When they would both have to remember how she’d offered herself to him, naked and willing, only to be rejected?

  She had crammed the corner of the sheet into her mouth to stifle the racking sobs threatening to overwhelm her.

  Exhausted, she’d finally fallen into an uneasy doze around dawn.

  And when she’d awoken, it had been to find Nick standing beside her bed with a tray. As their eyes had met Paige had had to quell an impulse to shrink back under the covers.

  No, she thought. I can’t let him see that it matters so much.

  He said, ‘I told Hortense the storm had disturbed you and she was to let you sleep, but it’s getting quite late, so I’ve brought you coffee and rolls.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Paige rallied her defences. Kept her tone crisp. ‘Please leave the tray somewhere.’

  ‘And get out?’ Nick supplied wryly. He shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple. And the food was just an excuse, anyway.’ His mouth tightened. ‘We need to talk.’

  The breath caught in her throat. ‘We’ve already said e
verything we need to say. Now I just want to end this farce and go home.’

  He was frowning. ‘You’re leaving?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And today, for preference, if you can arrange a flight or a ferry for me.’ She paused. ‘Feel free to make up some story to pacify Hortense—and your grandmother. A family illness, perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll take you…’

  ‘No.’ The word almost exploded out of her. She saw the shock in his face and made herself speak more calmly. ‘I’d be grateful if you’d just do as I ask. In fact, I insist.’

  There was a long silence, then Nick said quietly, ‘Very well.’ And went.

  And he did everything she asked. He found her a seat on a plane and instructed Antoine to drive her to the airport.

  In spite of this, their leavetaking had an inevitable awkwardness. Under Hortense’s gimlet gaze, Nick brushed Paige’s cheek with his lips in a brief, formal gesture.

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Au revoir.’ He paused. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  ‘No,’ Paige whispered under her breath as she went out to the car. ‘No, you won’t.’

  It had been a resolve born out of desperate necessity and forged in steel. And she’d kept to it throughout the weeks and months which followed. Using it to grind the memory of Nick out of her heart and mind. To erase, she’d hoped for ever, the pained remembrance of her body’s half-crazed response to the touch of his hands and mouth. The way she woke, aching for him, in the night. The image of him, his eyes smiling at her, which came to crucify her days.

  So many times she’d thought she saw him—passing on the other side of the street, or across a crowded restaurant. And she had come to a halt, her heart juddering, her hands clammy with sudden panic, telling herself that it was nothing but her imagination playing tricks.

  Oh, it had been a long, bitter battle, but one she had been beginning to win. Or so she’d thought.

  Yet now, thanks to a series of cruel coincidences, she would have to start the whole weary process all over again.

  Paige pressed her knuckles against her teeth. She thought, I can’t bear it. Oh, dear God, why did this have to happen?

  It was madness and she knew it—this fixation with Nick. How could she be so obsessive over someone she’d encountered over the course of only a few weeks? Someone she didn’t know in any real sense at all. And who’d made it patently clear he had no interest in her.

  Well, she could do it, she told herself, biting her lip until she tasted blood. She could climb the mountain once more. Block from her brain the turn of his head, the tone of his voice, the evocative male scent of him each time they returned to torment her. And they would return, because they always did.

  But one day she would be free of them, however long it might take. She had to believe that. Had to. Because anything else really would be madness.

  She began to breathe deeply and quietly, practising the relaxation exercises she’d learned, contracting each and every muscle from her toes to the top of her head, then releasing them.

  And gradually the images in her head lost their edge and became blurred, until at last they slid away altogether, taking her with them, over the brink into sleep.

  When she awoke she was immediately aware of two things. First that the roar of the wind had gone, and it was oddly quiet. Second that there was a weight across her body pinning her to the bed.

  For a horrified moment she thought that the hotel might have been structurally damaged, and that part of the ceiling had fallen.

  Then she realised, with even more horror, that the weight was warm, and breathing.

  Scarcely daring to breathe herself, Paige turned her head slowly and gingerly, only to have her worst fears confirmed.

  Nick was lying on the bed behind her, fast asleep, his arm wrapped round her, one leg casually flung across hers, so that she was in virtual imprisonment.

  For a moment she was totally still, her body rigid with shock and disbelief. How could this have happened? she wondered wildly. How could he have joined her on the bed like this—and she not know? And when had this—intimate entwining taken place?

  The fact that they were both fully dressed seemed little reassurance.

  Oh, God, she thought, her throat tightening. I’ve got to get out of this. Moving with extreme caution, she removed his arm, then began to ease herself away from him towards the edge of the bed. Only to feel him stir, and yawn, and come awake.

  ‘Running out on me again, darling?’ He reached for her, scooping her back into his embrace.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Paige tried furiously and unavailingly to free herself.

  ‘I’ve been asleep,’ he said. ‘Why—do you own the franchise?’

  ‘You said you’d use the chair,’ she accused.

  ‘I did,’ he said. ‘But it was so uncomfortable that chivalry lost out, I fear. Anyway, what’s the problem? You didn’t seem to object to my presence. In fact, you slept in my arms like a baby.’

  ‘Well, I’m awake now,’ Paige said curtly. ‘And I’d like to get up, please.’

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ Nick rested his chin on her shoulder. ‘Minna may just be a memory, but there’ll be a lot of cleaning up to do before the airport reopens. And there’ll certainly be no planes out tonight. So why not relax and enjoy the facilities.’

  ‘Let go of me.’ Paige tried to pull free again. ‘You have no right…’

  ‘Take care, my sweet,’ Nick said softly. ‘You’re on dangerous ground. Would you like us to discuss exactly what rights I do have where you’re concerned?’

  ‘You have none,’ she flung back at him. ‘Under the terms of our arrangement.’

  He said slowly, ‘An arrangement which made you my wife, Paige. Perhaps it’s time you learned exactly what that means.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Her mouth was dry.

  ‘I’m talking about our marriage.’ His tone was almost matter of fact. ‘I think it’s time we forgot that damned agreement and made it a real one.’

  Her voice shook. ‘You said—no more games. You promised…’

  ‘I said in future I’d be serious. Well, this is about as serious as it gets.’

  ‘Never,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll never agree—and you can’t make me.’

  ‘I don’t intend to use force, certainly. But persuasion’s another matter entirely.’ His lips gently grazed her neck. ‘Don’t you think?’ He paused. ‘After all, you wanted me once.’

  What was she? she wondered wildly. Some toy to be picked up and discarded whenever the mood took him? She could have cried out with the hurt of it.

  Instead, she filled her voice with ice. ‘Please don’t remind me. That was just a temporary aberration from which I’ve long since recovered.’

  She felt him smile against her skin. ‘Are you so sure of that?’

  Inwardly she was trembling. But it was important—vital—to at least appear in control.

  She kept her voice cool. ‘Twenty-four hours ago you were wrapped round some blonde. Take your powers of persuasion back to her, Nick. Because I don’t think you’re good husband material.’

  ‘Why, darling,’ he said mockingly, ‘anyone would think you were jealous.’

  ‘Then anyone would be wrong.’ She paused. ‘I’m just not interested in other women’s leavings.’

  She felt the sudden tension in the muscles that held her, and knew with a slight frisson of alarm that she had made him angry. He turned her in his arms to face him, his hands hard, pulling her roughly against his body.

  He said, ‘Try.’ And his mouth took hers.

  She intended to resist. To grant not even the least part of herself. But the pressure of his lips was too fierce, too compelling. Even as her hands braced against the wall of his chest in a vain attempt to push him away her lips were parting helplessly under his.

  She tried to say no, but the word was swept away in the sweet savage flood of release that his kiss engendered.
<
br />   She couldn’t think, or breathe. She drank, unsated, from his mouth. His hand found her breast, moulded it through the clinging silk, his thumb stroking the hardening nipple.

  And all the time the tearing, raging kiss went on.

  Her heartbeat was going crazy, drumming a violent tattoo against her ribcage. The noise of it seemed to fill her ears, she thought dazedly—then realised in the same moment that it was someone knocking at the door of their room.

  Nick lifted himself away from her, swearing savagely under his breath.

  ‘What is it?’ he called.

  ‘From the management, sir.’

  Nick swung himself off the bed and went over to the door. Paige seized the chance to get up too, seating herself in the despised chair while Nick spoke to the white-coated figure in the corridor.

  ‘It seems they’ve managed to organise some hot food,’ he said as he closed the door and turned back into the room. ‘It’s available in the dining room, if we want some.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I presume we do?’

  ‘What kind of food?’ Paige asked. She was astonished at the normality of her voice. ‘I mean, is it lunch or dinner.’

  Nick walked to the window and unfastened the bolts on the shutters, folding them back. Grey watery light seeped into the room. ‘It’s just gone six a.m. so I guess it’s breakfast.’

  Paige gasped. ‘But it can’t be. That would mean I’d been asleep for over twelve hours.’

  He nodded. ‘You were out for the count.’

  She looked down at her hands, clenched together in her lap. ‘I keep hoping I’m still asleep—and that all this is some horrible nightmare.’

  He said softly, ‘You’re being provocative again, darling. Be thankful that my hunger for scrambled eggs temporarily outweighs my appetite for you.’ He slid his wallet into the back pocket of his trousers. ‘Are you coming down?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Paige examined an imaginary fleck on her nail. ‘I’m really not hungry at all.’

  Nick shrugged. ‘As you wish, darling. Stay here, instead, and rehearse being indifferent to me. You could certainly do with the practice,’ he added mockingly from the doorway. ‘And you can demonstrate your prowess when I return.’