Though the air was still soft and balmy, a faint breeze had sprung up and was stirring the tendrils of the flowering vine that hung close by, sending its perfume drifting seductively.
She recalled such a lovely night years ago in San Jose. A perfect starlit, romantic night when, having told her father she was sleeping over with a friend, she had slipped away from the party early and gone to Jared’s house.
After they had eaten supper on his patio, he had surprised her by slipping a ring onto her finger and asking her formally to marry him.
Her heart overflowing, she had accepted, with the proviso that they kept their engagement a secret for the time being at least.
Until then, because of her father’s opposition, their relationship, though passionate, had been confined to kisses and caresses, and talk of “being together” once her father was well enough.
Since their first meeting, Jared had treated her as the innocent she was, but that night, as they sat together on the swing seat, eager to be his in every sense of the word, she had made the running.
After undoing his shirt buttons, she had slid her hands inside, running them over his muscular chest, finding the sprinkling of crisp body hair and the small leathery nipples.
When she’d felt him get restive beneath her touch, she’d started to unfasten the clip on the waistband of his trousers. Catching hold of her hands, he had held them away and asked with mock severity, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing?’
‘I’m turning you on,’ she had answered daringly. ‘Or, rather, I’m trying to.’
‘You’re succeeding,’ he had warned her grimly. ‘So, unless you’re prepared to take the consequences…’
‘Yes, please,’ she had whispered, lifting her face for his kiss, and hand in hand they had walked into the house.
It had been the most wonderful night of her life, a night that had seen her transformed from a naive girl into a woman.
Though a complete innocent, she had tendered passion for passion with a joyous abandon that had filled Jared’s heart with gladness.
Afterwards, lying in his arms, his ring on her finger, her happiness and contentment had been complete. He had proved to be a marvellous lover, not only masterful and heartbreakingly tender, but skilled and experienced.
That last thought had brought a slight cloud of unease and jealousy with it. Though he was the right type to be a good lover—generous, unselfish and passionate—she was well aware that all his skill and experience had needed to be acquired.
Biting her lip, she had tried hard to push that sudden doubt to the back of her mind.
The following morning before she went home, he had bought her an antique gold chain with a chunky gold locket that opened to hold the ring. Fastening it round her neck, he had said, ‘Now you can wear it next to your heart until we can tell the world.’
He had added that he would always love her and promised to be faithful, and she had believed him.
More fool her.
All the old bitterness and disillusionment returned in full force, reminding her, if such a reminder was necessary, just why she couldn’t face the thought of going back to him.
A fresh rush of agitation brought her to her feet. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed now,’ she said jerkily.
Though he frowned a little, as if he’d been following her train of thought, he agreed levelly, ‘It’s been a long day so I think I’ll join you.’
She stiffened. Suppose he meant that literally?
But he had turned away and was snapping his fingers at the dog. ‘Come on, Sam. Bed time.’
They made their way into the house and Jared closed and locked the glass panels before shutting Sam in the kitchen.
Unable to judge from Jared’s expression exactly what his intentions were, Perdita held her breath as he escorted her along to her bedroom.
Having opened the door for her, he made no attempt to follow her inside but simply said, ‘Goodnight, Perdita. Sleep well.’
‘Goodnight,’ she answered huskily.
She was about to turn away when he lifted her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips. Though he wasn’t holding her in any way, that sweetest of caresses kept her rooted to the spot.
Even when he lifted his head and walked away, she stayed exactly where she was, still as any statue, until the sound of his bedroom door closing brought her back to life.
Forcing her weak knees to carry her into her own room, she shut the door behind her and slumped limply against it.
If he’d taken her in his arms, deepened the kiss…
But he hadn’t.
She felt a quick surge of what she tried to tell herself was relief.
But mingled with that relief was a tingle of something she recognized as regret, and she was forced to admit that at some fundamental level she still wanted him.
No! she corrected herself quickly, she couldn’t still want him after all that had happened. That strong physical attraction must simply be because she had suppressed her basic needs for so long that her body was starting to rebel.
But, if that was the case, why had she kept Martin, a man who thought the world of her, at arm’s length?
She sighed and, in an endeavour to stop herself thinking, went through to the pleasant bathroom and prepared for bed once more.
When she had slipped beneath the light duvet, she closed her eyes and made an effort to empty her mind, but sleep steadfastly eluded her.
Trapped once more on the endless treadmill of thought, it was the early hours of the morning before her weary brain stopped working and she finally fell into an uneasy doze.
She awoke to a strange room filled with sunlight. For a moment or two her mind was a complete blank, and then everything that had happened the previous evening came back in a rush.
She was still Jared’s wife. Nominally. And in a matter of hours she would have to decide whether or not to go back to him.
Every nerve in her body tightened and a rising panic threatened to engulf her. Forcing it down, she climbed out of bed and pulled back the light muslin curtains. The sun was riding high in the sky, and a glance at her watch showed it was almost midday.
When she had showered and dressed in a blue and white striped shirtwaister and sandals, she brushed out her long hair and pulled it back into a loose gleaming knot.
It had been her intention to leave by way of the veranda, but the glass door refused to open and the lock was empty, so she made her way through the silent house.
There was no sign of the housekeeper, but the complete absence of dust and the bowls of fresh flowers suggested that that good lady had been busy.
On the opposite side of the hallway a door leading on to the far veranda was standing invitingly open, and crossing to it, Perdita stepped out into the fresh air.
From here she got a panoramic view over a wide swathe of picturesque countryside. In the distance, lush and green, she could see row upon row of vines while a crop-spraying helicopter, with a trail of fine spray suspended beneath it like a cloud, clattered noisily up the valley.
As she walked along the veranda looking at the adobe walls and the tubs of bright flowers, mingling with the sweet scent of the flowers she became aware of an appetizing smell of grilled bacon and percolating coffee.
When she reached the south side of the house and the pool area, she descended the veranda steps into the blazing sun. The house and the veranda had been relatively cool and only then, standing looking around her, did she appreciate just how hot it was.
She had always enjoyed the heat and, after a long cold winter in London, it was very welcome.
All traces of the previous evening had been cleared away and by the pool a white table, shielded from the full strength of the sun by a canopy of vines, had been set for brunch.
On the side trolley was a tall glass jug of orange juice, a basket of newly baked rolls, a tub of butter and a selection of preserves, while several covered dishes and a pot of coffee were keeping warm on
the hotplate.
Sam ambled over to greet her, languid in the heat, and offered her a huge clumsy paw before returning to his post by the table, where an empty bowl waited to be filled.
Jared was in the water, doing lengths in a fast effortless crawl. He was in the middle of a racing turn at the far end of the pool when he saw her.
Levering himself out in one smooth movement, he shook the water out of his eyes and walked towards her, his smile a challenge.
He was stark naked and very male.
A betraying heat ran through her and her stomach clenched as, unable to tear her gaze away, she watched him approach.
The sun gleamed on his smooth skin and rivulets of water ran down his muscular body. With broad shoulders, lean hips and long supple limbs, he had a classical beauty that—though the concept was hackneyed—she had always thought of as godlike.
Every inch of his skin appeared to be deeply tanned and, with the dark hair curling on his chest and the gleam of his white teeth as he smiled at her, he could almost have been Greek.
‘Good morning. Sleep well?’
Forcing herself to take a breath, she lied, ‘Very well, thank you.’ Then, looking anywhere but at him, ‘Brunch by the pool, I see.’
‘Naturally. You’re in sunny California now.’ He surveyed her dress critically. ‘Though, to enjoy it to the full, you could do with rather fewer clothes.’
Her eyes skittering nervously past his nakedness, she hoped he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.
Reading her unease and interpreting it correctly, he laughed and added, ‘A bikini, for example.’
‘I haven’t owned a bikini, or a swimsuit of any kind, since I left California,’ she told him.
‘Well, after we’ve had brunch we can easily remedy that, and a little sunshine is all you need to banish that winter paleness.’
It was an enticing thought. But the last thing she wanted to do was wear any kind of swimsuit in front of Jared.
Though she loved the sun, she had always been inhibited about baring her body, and it was he who had first encouraged her to strip off and enjoy the feel of the sun on her bare skin.
And she was lucky. Unlike the pale, ultra-sensitive skin of a lot of natural blondes, her skin tanned well and easily to a pale burnished gold.
Picking up a towel from one of the poolside sunbeds, Jared knotted it casually around his lean waist before leading the way to the table, leaving wet footprints on the decking.
He settled her in one of the white chairs before taking a seat opposite and asking cheerfully, ‘Juice to start with?’
‘Please.’
Sitting in the dappled shade, she sipped the freshly squeezed juice and, finding it deliciously cool and sweet, murmured, ‘Mmm…I don’t know why, but that tastes so much nicer than we get in London.’
With a quick grin, he suggested, ‘Perhaps it’s because, unlike California, they don’t grow oranges in London.’
Smiling back spontaneously, she agreed, ‘You could be right.’
Watching that smile light her face and bring it to life, Jared observed a shade huskily, ‘You should smile more often. It suits you.’
Flicked on the raw, she retorted, ‘I haven’t had a lot to smile about just recently.’
Instantly regretting her own sharpness, she was pleased when he seemed disposed to ignore it.
When their glasses were empty, he helped her to crisp bacon, scrambled eggs and waffles, before pouring the fragrant coffee.
Seeing the play of muscles beneath his smooth tanned skin, she felt her heartbeat quicken. With his hair still wet and rumpled, his broad shoulders and chest and the strong column of his throat bare, he looked so disturbingly sexy that she was finding it difficult to breathe, let alone eat.
But it was more than just his looks. It always had been. Watching his face, a face she knew as well as she knew her own, she remembered how it was when they had first met and got to know each other.
For her, they had been weeks of discovery, of delight. Slowly, she had learnt that he was never dull, never disappointing, never mean or small-minded, never at a loss.
They had been in perfect harmony. He seemed able to read her mind and know what she was thinking, and if he wasn’t with her he was one step ahead, waiting for her to catch up.
But, best of all, she’d discovered she could be herself with him. Neither her shyness nor her inhibitions, her occasional short bursts of temper or the fact that at times—having been overindulged and pampered all her life—she was unwittingly selfish, bothered him. He accepted her faults as gracefully as he welcomed her merits.
Knowing him had freed her from the suffocating restrictions of her childhood, and turned her into a well balanced adult, able to think for herself.
Well balanced? Able to think for herself? Was that really a true picture?
The last three years seemed to suggest it wasn’t. She was still following her father’s lead, still allowing him to influence and mollycoddle her.
And if she had married Martin, as her father’s chosen ambassador, he would have carried on where the older man had left off…
Suddenly becoming aware that Jared had said something she hadn’t caught, Perdita glanced up in confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I said, if we’re to buy that bikini I’d better get showered and dressed.’
‘I don’t need a bikini, really I don’t.’
‘You prefer to swim and sunbathe in the nude?’
Grinning at her horrified expression, he said briskly, ‘So you need a bikini, or at least a costume of some kind. Give me ten minutes and we’ll have a trip into Napa.’
Hoping to deflect him from his purpose, she protested, ‘But you promised you’d take me round the winery, and I’d much rather do that.’
Not taken in for a moment, he said lightly, ‘Don’t worry, we can do both.’
When he returned, well within the promised time, looking casually elegant in well-cut lightweight trousers and a midnight-blue silk shirt, he was carrying a high factor sunscreen and a spare pair of sunglasses.
She glimpsed the old ever-thoughtful Jared when, handing them to her, he said, ‘You’re not yet used to this kind of sun, so you may need both of these.’
Grateful for his consideration, she said a sincere, ‘Thank you.’
As they turned towards the house, Sam lumbered to his feet and attempted to join them.
‘No, you stay here with Hilary,’ Jared said firmly. ‘The last time I took you for a drive you barked all the time.’
‘I expect he was excited,’ Perdita offered.
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Jared agreed. ‘But it didn’t make it any less distracting.’
Napa was an attractive little place, sunny and colourful, with its open-air cafés and shops. Pulling into a parking lot, Jared stopped beneath the shade of a tree and led the way to a small but high class boutique with designer dresses in the window.
‘You should get what you want here.’
It seemed dark inside after the brightness, and it took a moment or two for Perdita’s eyes to adjust to the gloom.
A carefully made-up woman with hair dyed an unlikely shade of red came forward and, having assessed and approved Jared’s look of affluence, enquired in a nasal drawl, ‘May I help you?’
‘We’d like to look at some swimwear.’
Apparently selling anything other than dresses was beneath her and the woman, clearly the manageress, signalled to a young assistant to serve them.
The girl, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Jared since they’d walked in, came over eagerly and smiled at him.
Once more he took the lead. ‘My wife would like to look at some swimwear.’
With a certain wry amusement, Perdita noted the flicker of disappointment and envy that the word wife had occasioned.
After asking her size, the girl produced a range of colourful, exotically patterned bikinis that were as brief as they were revealing.
Speaking to Perdit
a, but her eyes repeatedly straying to Jared, she said, ‘You’ve sure got a great figure, so any of these should look good on you.’
Perdita was looking askance at the minute scraps of material when, indicating a white one-piece costume that was on a display stand, Jared said, ‘Something more like this might fit the bill.’
‘It’s a Paul Gregor that’s new in,’ the girl told him, ‘and luckily it’s just the right size.’
Though apparently more modest, Perdita could see that the costume’s daring cut would show off almost as much bare flesh as the bikinis and, feeling uncomfortable, she began, ‘I really don’t think—’
Cutting smoothly across her attempt to argue, Jared said to the girl, ‘Then we’ll take it,’ and pulled out his wallet.
Unwilling to have him spend money on her, Perdita said sharply, ‘If you insist on taking it, I’ll buy it with my credit card. I don’t want you to have to pay for it.’
‘Darling…’ A glint in his eye, he tilted her chin and kissed her thoroughly, lingeringly. ‘You know quite well that I enjoy buying clothes for my wife.’
Shaken, her face flushed, Perdita stayed still and silent while the girl, who had been standing staring as though mesmerized came to life.
In a moment the swimsuit, which had an exorbitant price tag, had been paid for and the package handed to Jared.
‘Thank you.’ He returned the girl’s smile.
Watching her visibly melt and give him a look that held both longing and an invitation, Perdita experienced a sudden swift pang of something that felt remarkably like jealousy.
No, surely she couldn’t be jealous! She was annoyed with him, rocked by his kiss, but she couldn’t be jealous just because he’d smiled at a shop assistant.
Yet she was.
When they reached the car he helped her in and, tossing the package onto the back seat, enquired, ‘Do you fancy a relatively short sightseeing drive before I take you round the winery?’
With mingled emotions and still trying to regain her equilibrium, she hesitated for a moment before answering, ‘Yes, that sounds lovely.’
A playful breeze tugging tendrils of silken hair free from its loose knot and flicking them against her hot cheeks, they took the scenic route north, driving in a leisurely way through St Helena and Rutherford, while Jared pointed out various things of interest.
Claiming His Wedding Night Page 9