The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance)

by Michele Dunaway

  His words iced her veins. “What do you mean by that?” she asked sharply.

  Dylan averted his eyes, staring over her shoulder at the now darkened lakeshore. “Nothing. It’s not every wedding night that the groom gets turned down.”

  “It’s not every wedding night that the bride is married for convenience.”

  “So true,” Dylan mused calmly.

  Maddy fumed. The man never lost control. Even at eighteen, Dylan never overreacted. He was a methodical planner with dozens of contingency plans. Even after her rejection and Ted’s punches, Dylan hadn’t stayed down long. He’d changed directions—and ended up here. Owning her.

  The chair thudded on the wood floor as Dylan rose. He gestured toward the opening that led to the two first floor bedrooms. “Feel free to retire anytime. Your belongings are in the master bedroom. I’ve installed myself next door in the red bedroom.”

  Angry lines she couldn’t contain creased her forehead. No wonder why he was so smug. He’d toyed with her. He had no intention of sleeping with her. Dylan, always one-step ahead. Life was but a game to him.

  “My parents will arrive tomorrow,” Dylan continued, ignoring her agitation. “Although we have five bedrooms here, they wanted to stay on the island to give us our privacy.”

  Maddy’s body trembled. His ease enraged her, showed her how far out of his league she was. “I don’t want you living here. This is my home.”

  He absently ran a hand through his black hair, making the silken strands ripple and reflect the light. “Too bad. A husband lives with his wife.”

  He stressed the last word, and Madison shuddered.

  “While I may not be sharing your bed, my parents will find it odd if such a happily married couple like us sleeps a boat ride apart.”

  Madison crossed her arms. “I was surprised they missed the wedding, with our being such a loving couple and all. Did you not want them to see how much of a sham today was?”

  His eyes narrowed at her sarcasm. “My parents were on a world cruise when we announced our engagement. I insisted that they finish it.”

  “Perhaps we should have held the wedding off one more day.”

  “Repairs on the church begin first thing Monday and tomorrow’s Sunday service. The first lesson in business is that you have to take the window opportunity hands you, and this was the window. Anyway, if it appeases your sensibilities, my parents understood our hurry,” Dylan said brusquely. “They think we’re madly in love, and they are old-fashioned enough to believe that sex waits until the wedding night.”

  “Perhaps in a regular marriage people anticipate the wedding night.”

  He stepped around the table so that he towered over her. “Make no mistake. I want you, Maddy. I can think of nothing I’d rather do than have you lying beneath me, writhing with passion as I take you over the edge.”

  With that he pulled her upwards, crushing her in a kiss that was as passionate as it was possessive. Every defensive wall crumbled underneath at his sensual onslaught. It was as if she’d been made for this, made for him. She molded herself to fit, wove her hands around his neck and gave into the sensations overtaking her.

  He slid his hands to her breast, pushing the bodice down so he could slide his hand inside. His fingertips found her nipple and he rolled it, sending pleasure shooting through her. She had the strongest need to clench her legs, but he’d stepped between them and the heaviness and the wetness seeped and created a fire her body had to quench. He kept her mouth pinned with his as he moved to touch her other breast and she ached for more as his tongue mated with hers.

  Then coldness descended as he yanked away from her. Like being doused with a bucket of cold water, Maddy tried to straighten up.

  “Go to bed. It’s been a long day. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe from the monster you claim I am. When you’re ready to stop lying to yourself about how turned on you are, let me know.”

  Maddy’s chest heaved as she drew breath. She forced her feet to move, somehow held her head high. Damn the man! She stalked toward the first floor hallway, turning around once. “Goodnight, Dylan.”

  Dylan had turned away from her. “Good night, Maddy. Sleep well. Pleasant dreams.”

  Maddy shivered and escaped. She flipped the light switch, sending light flooding down the twenty-foot hallway until it made a 90-degree turn. She made the next turn and entered the master bedroom.

  Here, too, magic had occurred. An antique four-poster bed stood against one wall, complete with new mattress and linens. The new white bedspread had been turned down, and a single rose rested on the white down pillows. The decorator had replaced the hideous old, red painted furniture of Maddy’s childhood with antique mahogany pieces that matched the refinished wood floors and wood paneling.

  She walked to one of the side windows. Gone were the sheers yellowed by age, and in their place were new lacy white curtains and sliding drapes. She moved a lace panel aside and looked down the lane toward her aunt’s cabin. Through the trees she could see lights, meaning Aunt Gail hadn’t yet retired. Madison turned away as a soft breeze blew through the new casement window. This suite had always been her room, her grandparents and Ted preferring to stay upstairs where the bedrooms were larger, albeit without a fireplace.

  “Oh Grandfather,” she thought, “if you could see what he’s done. You’d be so pleased.”

  From the buildings to the grounds, Dylan’s money had made the restorations swift reality. No expense had been spared returning the lodge to its beauty.

  Everything was the way she’d envisioned. She touched the freshly stained wood mantle and lifted up the antique china vases that were original to the house.

  She traced her finger over the antique writing desk, noting that not a speck of dust marred the smooth surface, and then she threw open the double doors and stepped onto the private sun porch that overlooked the lake.

  Night had fallen but she could discern the lake from the sky. The calm water held a navy hue and fireflies lit the grassy lawn. She sat down in the refinished rocking chair, noting the tightness of the rewoven seat. With a rhythmic motion, she set the wooden runners in motion. Around the lake, lights flickered, appearing to the naked eye like tiny beacons. Madison kept rocking, sending herself into an exhausted sleep.

  Sometime late at night, her sleeping brain heard the wind pick up and the rain descend. Cold blew into the small sunroom, and she groggily opened her eyes. Getting her stiff body out of the rocking chair was a challenge, and awkwardly she stumbled to the turned down bed. Fighting the enveloping sleep, she pushed the rose to the other side, and drew the covers up to her chin.

  Wisconsin nights are naturally pitch black, and the storm accentuated the darkness. The thunder rolled in on freight trains, and torrid rain sheeted down. Maddy tossed and turned as uneasy sleep claimed her. In the haze of slumber, she rolled over in the bed, the sharp prick of thorn against her bare shoulder sending pain throughout her body. She screamed, and with a jolt, flung the offending flower off the bed.

  “Madison? Are you okay?” The voice burst forth out of the blackness of her dream as an even darker figure appeared. “I heard you cry out.”

  Dylan. He’d come for her. Had he ever let her down? “I pricked myself on the rose.”

  “Let me see.” The shadow’s fingers moved along her shoulder, and Madison trembled as the coverlet fell away. The rain had left the night cold, and her breasts were heavy and full. “You’ll be okay, princess. I’m here for you.”

  His hand reached out, and he pulled her toward him. His arms encircled her.

  “My mistake,” he huskily said in her ear. His breath was hot and his nose pushed her hair back from her ear before his lips traced a path down her cheek.

  “What mistake?” Madison whispered. Oh, how she wanted him!

  “Letting you go to bed alone.” His voice came from somewhere in the shadow in front of her, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers.

  His lips demanded entrance, and she y
ielded under his prowess and skill.

  She pressed against his smooth chest, her fingertips burning as she found it naked. How she’d longed to touch him. She ran her hands over his chest, memorizing every nuance of the smooth texture.

  His tongue was doing something to the roof of her mouth, and a fire built and spread across her body. He pushed her down to the mattress. His hands freed from holding her, he moved them up under her wedding dress. His fingers pushed the bodice down, and his right forefinger and thumb kneaded her left nipple and drew it up into a bud.

  He plundered her mouth as he stroked and teased, and with an impatient gesture, he released her from his kiss, lifted her dress completely, and closed his lips over the throbbing nub.

  “Oh!” The cry wrenched from Madison’s mouth of its own volition as she writhed under the sensation of Dylan’s lathing of her nipple. She felt him stoke the other breast with feather touches, and he ran his tongue over the ridge and down the valley as he moved to the taste the opposite peak.

  His hands continued to caress her, and they slid downward, under her hips and then his fingers slid under the silken band of her panties and down to explore her moist, virgin womanhood.

  She bucked instinctively as Dylan’s fingers stroked her and then plunged into her uncharted depths. Her body shook as she went spiraling.

  “Dylan!” She screamed his name as stars exploded in her head. The room went totally dark and he vanished as she jolted upright, wide awake. Panting and shaking, but awake. Just what had happened?

  For several minutes, Madison tried to discern the ceiling. She was alone. She touched her lips. Normal. No puffiness, no indication of kissing. She stretched. Everything felt as it should be. She was even still wearing the designer wedding dress she’d fallen asleep in. A small fortune, now crumpled. She took a deep breath and steadied her racing heart.

  She had been dreaming. For years she’d had graphic dreams of Dylan, but they’d never been this realistic. No, none of her earlier imaginings had ever been this vivid, this real.

  In her dream, she’d begun to make love to her husband on her wedding night. She’d wanted him. Craved his touch.

  She put her hands over her face, realizing the truth. It was inevitable as sunrise that she and Dylan would make love. Dylan had known all along what her dream had just proven. They had chemistry she would not be able to resist.

  But he’d smashed her grandfather’s dreams. She couldn’t let Dylan destroy hers, too. Already she’d given up love. She had to remain independent, controlled. Unless…

  Could she change him? Could they leave behind their pasts and start over? Could she change the future, maybe find the boy she’d loved inside the man she didn’t? Perhaps residual traces of that bygone Dylan still existed. He had chosen to marry her, not anyone else. Did that say something, anything? Would it be foolish to try to eventually make her marriage real so that the sex would have a foundation?

  Could he perhaps someday love her as he had long ago?

  A cold gust of air blasted through the open window and Maddy crawled out of bed, grabbed the crank, and closed the casement. She yanked the new drapes across the wispy lace sheers. She shut the sun porch doors, sending the room into greater darkness.

  With a shudder, Madison climbed back into warm bed. She’d spent many nights in this room, but never with Dylan sleeping a room away. She’d never been married.

  None of her earlier questions had answers. The only thing that was certain was that while Summerhaven would remain the same for generations to come, her life had irrevocably changed.

  Chapter Six

  Sunlight peeked in around the edges of the heavy curtains, and Maddy stretched and shifted as the last vestiges of sleep fled. Feeling nothing but the smoothness of 400 count sheets under her bare shoulders, she blinked rapidly before realizing she was still wearing the crumpled dress. She planted her feet on the Oriental rug and padded over to the sunroom. With a gentle turn, she pulled the doors open and stepped out into the enclosed porch.

  The storm long gone, the sun was already high in the sky, and she guessed it to be about ten a.m. She yawned; normally she didn’t sleep this late. Small johnboats dotted the waterscape, and a few sailboats languished in the lack of a morning breeze. As she surveyed her favorite view in the world, a new sense of purpose enveloped her.

  Summerhaven was her lifeblood. Here on her land she derived her strength, here she assuaged her grief in growing up without parents and all the things they would have taught her.

  Here she cried, here she dreamed. Here she forgot she was the girl who learned about a woman’s monthly cycles from her boarding school gym teacher. Each summer Summerhaven worked its magic, and she loved it. The lake itself was an everyday miracle. Aunt Gail even claimed the water had healing powers.

  Now, because of her marriage, Maddy would never lose her beloved home. She surveyed her property. The three restored Summerhaven docks, normally empty, now boasted two runabouts.

  “Another glorious day.”

  “Indeed.”

  Madison jumped. Dylan and his father left the remodeled boathouse and began to ascend the long stone path to the lodge. They hadn’t seen her, only their voices had carried through the open windows.

  She studied her husband. Sunlight glistened off jet-black hair. He wore a casual black t-shirt that emphasized tanned skin and a firm body. The shirt tapered into blue-jean shorts, a brown leather belt circling the waistband. Strong legs anchored in leather boat mocs carried him up the hillside.

  As if sensing her presence, his head turned toward her window, and Maddy fled into the sanctuary of the bedroom. She opened the door to the walk-in closet, sighing with relief when she saw all her clothes. Gathering a short sleeve camp shirt and chinos shorts, she headed for the en suite bathroom.

  Dylan’s contractors had transformed the outdated bathroom into a private spa. Madison had hot water instantly, and she let the jets of the double-headed oversized shower wash over her, easing the stress attempting to return full force now that the sun was up.

  She couldn’t hide forever. She was a Johansson, no, she was a Blackwater now, and that meant she could face her husband, the man who’d haunted some very real dreams.

  “There you are, sweetheart.” Dylan rose from the sofa as Madison walked into the great room about a half an hour later. “I wondered how long you were going to sleep.”

  She smiled, aware of two curious sets of eyes watching the exchange. “I guess I was really tired.”

  “I wonder why,” Dylan said huskily, innuendo clear. As she moved past him, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her body crushed against his chest, and his mouth found hers. The kiss rocked her to her toes. Her body, fresh from its erotic dream, craved more, but as quickly as the kiss started, it ended. The residual heat remained.

  “Such a loving wife you are,” Dylan murmured next to her ear, his arm wrapped tightly around her in warning.

  Uncertain of her equilibrium, she remained pressed to Dylan as he rotated her to greet their guests. “Maddy, you remember my parents, Joe and Clarissa Blackwater.”

  “Of course. It’s wonderful to see you again,” she replied, years of social politeness allowing her to sound solid and strong. Ten years had passed since she’d last seen them, when fate had placed the Blackwaters in her path. They’d been staying at the county campground just around the bend southwest of the Summerhaven property, and Joe had helped Maddy when the wheel had fallen off her golf cart on one of her many jaunts.

  Unable to yet legally drive a car, the golf cart had provided an almost sixteen-year-old girl with transportation, and tooling through the campground was as much fun as being on a go-kart track. On one such excursion, she’d first met Dylan.

  Clarissa’s Italian skin crinkled into dozens of gentle lines as she stood and grinned. “Dylan, let that poor girl go so that I can welcome her properly.” Within seconds, Maddy was gathered into Clarissa’s arms for a generous hug. “Don’t be so formal, my d
ear. You’re my daughter now.”

  At Clarissa’s warm embrace, Maddy immediately experienced shame. Her own mother had died, and to deceive people this generous was appalling. She somehow managed to say, “Thank you.”

  “Oh no, thank you,” Clarissa said. She gestured up to her taller husband. “Joe and I’d just about given up on Dylan for any grandchildren. He’s never been quite the same since that summer he met you. I am just so glad you two found each other again.”

  “Welcome to the family, Maddy.” Joe Blackwater reached forward and drew her into a brief hug. He was almost as tall as his son, and he had aged well. His straight black hair was cropped closer to his head than Dylan’s ear length locks, and very little had receded.

  If Dylan turned out anything like his father at his father’s age, then Dylan Blackwater would be a heartthrob until the day he died.

  “So, how about we take the two of you to lunch?” Clarissa said. “Now, wipe that expression off your face, Dylan. We insist. Joe and I want to spend some time with our new daughter. It’ll be hectic once school starts in two weeks so I thought we’d have lunch in Hayward.”

  “My parents love the touristy stuff,” Dylan said with a genuine smile that made Maddy do a double take to make certain his caring expression was real. His demeanor was so relaxed, loving and caring. Not calculated, or cold-blooded.

  Maybe there was hope. Maybe, if he could be like this with his parents, then maybe he hadn’t changed too deeply. He draped his arm over her shoulders, and she wondered if she would ever get used to the electric jolt caused by the intimate contact.

  “Touristy stuff is fine,” Maddy said. “I’ve done very little of it.” Her grandmother had thought of it as being bourgeois.

  Clarissa seemed pleased. “That’s how we found this place, on one of our wanderings. We’d left Al Capone’s hideout and camped on this lake.”

  “Madison and I agree to lunch, as long as I drive,” Dylan inserted smoothly. “If not, you’ll lose yourself in the bingo hall. My wife and I would like to be home sometime tonight.”