Claiming His Wedding Night

by Lee Wilkinson

  Oh, yes, she remembered that perfect night, remembered how they had stretched out on his swingseat and shared some of the sweetest lovemaking she had ever known.

  Though she tried to close her mind to the poignant memories, tried to distance herself, her limbs grew heavy and languorous and warmth spread through her.

  She was aware of both their heartbeats and the way his breaths fell between her own, achingly alive to the brush of his skin against hers and the firmness of his muscles, conscious of every bone in his body.

  It was an awareness so intense, so all consuming that it seemed to take over her entire being. She wanted to turn to him, put her arms around his neck and let her body melt against his.

  No, she thought, making an attempt at a last-ditch stand, she mustn’t allow herself to be seduced so easily, mustn’t let him know that his strategy was succeeding.

  But his closeness and the memories it engendered were so piercingly sweet that she found it almost impossible to hide what she was feeling, hide her growing longing.

  And he knew.

  Turning her into his arms, he began to kiss her softly, her lips, her temples, her closed eyelids, the long line of her throat and the warm hollow at the base.

  She waited impatiently for him to reach her breasts, where the firm nipples ached for the touch of his mouth and tongue.

  When he finally reached his goal and began to suckle sweetly, first one and then the other, tugging a little, repeatedly teasing the sensitive tip with his tongue, she shivered at the exquisite sensations he was arousing.

  When she began to make little sounds deep in her throat, he slid his free hand slowly down the length of her body, past the slim waist and over the smooth skin of her abdomen, to the nest of pale silky curls between her thighs.

  Any attempt at resistance swamped by a surge of burning desire, she held her breath.

  But his hand stilled and he asked softly, ‘Do you want me to stop, Perdita?’

  She shook her head.

  As though unconvinced, he remarked, ‘Earlier you said you didn’t want to be pawed by a man you didn’t love.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘So you do want me to go on?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sure?’

  Still on fire, she begged hoarsely, ‘Please, oh, please, Jared.’

  ‘Is lover boy able to make you feel like this, able to make you beg and plead?’

  His words shocked her into awareness and, opening dazed eyes, she looked up into his face. There was a cruel twist to his lips and he looked both satisfied and triumphant.

  In that instant she realized with a kind of sick panic that he hated her. He had been playing with her, not to give her pleasure and release, but to pay her back for the things she had said, to mortify her and drive home his absolute mastery.

  She felt shamed, humiliated.

  Adrenalin pumping through her veins, she stepped back and dashed his hand away.

  A slight smile on his lips, he looked down at her.

  That smile was the last straw.

  Lifting her hand, she cracked it across his face with every last ounce of her strength, then turned and ran.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HER legs feeling curiously stiff and alien, her breath coming in shallow gasps, Perdita fled through the silent house.

  When she reached her room she fumbled for the light switch and, fearing pursuit, banged the door shut behind her and turned the key. Remembering the communicating door, she hurried to wedge a chair beneath the handle.

  Then, not bothering with the night dress that lay ready on the bed, she crept beneath the duvet and turned off the lamp.

  Jared hated her…

  Huddled there, she gave way to the unbearable pressure that had built up inside and cried as though her very heart would break.

  How could a man who had once sworn he loved her treat her in such a way?

  But, even while the scalding tears flowed and the sobs that racked her took more breath than she had, a basic honesty made her admit that she was at least partly to blame. She had taunted him about Martin, angered him deliberately.

  A dangerous thing to do to a man like Jared.

  She heard the sound of a door handle being tried and, despite the sobs still rising in her throat, held her breath, afraid that he would be furious enough to break in.

  But there wasn’t another sound and, turning her face into the pillow, she let the bitter tide of anguish and grief wash over her once more.

  Jared hated her…

  Swamped by misery almost too great to be borne, she hadn’t heard him come in and the first she knew of his presence was when a gentle hand touched her still-damp hair.

  Gasping with shock, she flinched and, through her tears, demanded, ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘By way of the veranda.’

  ‘Go away; I don’t want you here,’ she cried hoarsely.

  Ignoring her words, he discarded the short silk robe he was wearing and slid into bed beside her. Then, drawing her to him, he held her close and stroked her hair while he murmured inarticulate words of comfort.

  Making an effort to pull herself together, she tried to stop the flow of tears but his unexpected tenderness only made them flow faster.

  She cried for lost dreams and shattered hopes, for the love that she had once believed was hers, for the hard, bitter man Jared had become, and for what might have been. Cried until there were no tears left and shuddering breaths took the place of the sobs.

  Jared cradled her to him and, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside cabinet, pulled out a handful and dried her wet face. Then, settling her head on his shoulder, he said softly, ‘Try and get some sleep now.’

  Physically and emotionally spent, she let go her grip on consciousness and almost immediately slept.

  Sometime towards morning she began to dream, a bright, vivid dream of a lovely summer’s day.

  Sam, ears flapping and looking utterly ridiculous, was galumphing about chasing an elusive butterfly while she lay cradled in Jared’s arms in the hammock slung from a sturdy branch beneath the cedar tree. Dappled sunlight coming through the canopy of leaves fell warmly on their faces and they breathed in the scent of newly mown grass carried on the light balmy breeze.

  She could feel the flesh and bone and muscle of Jared’s body next to hers, the slight rise and fall of his chest, the strong beat of his heart.

  All his hardness, his anger had vanished as if it had never been and he was once again the warm, charismatic man she had met and married.

  Love for him overwhelmed her and, with a little murmur of gladness, she nestled against him.

  When his arms tightened around her and she lifted her face to his, he kissed her softly until her lips parted beneath the sweetness of that kiss.

  His mouth moving against hers was all she had ever wanted or needed and, her arms sliding around his neck with a little murmur of pleasure, she kissed him back.

  It wasn’t until his hands began to travel over her naked body that she surfaced sufficiently to realize that this was no dream.

  Rather than lying in a hammock in the sun, they were lying in her bed in the grey light of very early morning and Jared was no longer the old loving Jared of her dream, but the cold, hard man who had deliberately set out to humiliate her.

  She stiffened and made an attempt to pull away.

  But, whispering, ‘It’s all right, my love, it’s all right,’ he drew her to him and held her close. ‘I’m sorry I was such a brute to you. Forgive me.’

  While panic and need and reason warred inside her, he stroked her hair and whispered soft words of reassurance and comfort.

  Only when he felt her relax against him did his hands begin to move over her once more, stroking and caressing her breasts with seductive skill.

  While his fingers found and teased one velvety nipple, he bent his head and his lips explored her jaw line and the soft skin beneath until they reached the base of her throat an
d lingered there, sending shivers running through her.

  Then his mouth moved lower and closed over the other nipple, while her heart began to throw itself against her ribs and her pulse raced out of control.

  As she gasped, pierced by needle-sharp darts of pleasure, the fingers of his free hand slid down to the warm skin of her inner thighs and buried themselves in the silky curls.

  Finding his goal unerringly, he began to delicately explore the slick warmth that awaited there.

  As those long fingers moved inside her, bringing their promise of delight, any semblance of control began to slip from her grasp.

  Lost and mindless, she was on the point of abandoning her body to its fate when, even through the haze of passion, she felt a fresh surge of fear and stiffened.

  Instantly he was aware of it. Raising his head, he said softly, ‘Relax. I promise I won’t hurt you or do anything you don’t want me to do.’

  He kissed her and after a moment or two she let go of the panic and opened her mouth to his kiss.

  When she was once again lying in his arms, relaxed and pliant, he brought her to a new peak of wanting before turning her onto her back. Then, while his mouth claimed hers, he lowered himself into the waiting cradle of her hips.

  But, even then, as though wanting to be certain how she felt, he held back.

  When, the previous evening, he had told her that he’d been celibate for the past three years, she had believed him, and now she found herself marvelling at his self-control.

  Roused to fever-pitch herself and hoping his abnormal restraint wouldn’t last too long, she moved her hips in a tacit invitation as old as Eve, and felt the jerk of his body’s instant response.

  But, even then, he paused to ask, ‘Do you want me to make love to you, Perdita?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I want to hear you say it,’ he insisted. ‘Do you want me?’

  ‘Yes, yes…’ she whispered urgently.

  A moment later a shudder that was a mixture of relief, gladness and passion shook her and, as he started to move and she gave herself to him, her body began to hum with sheer delight.

  She was caught up by a heated tide of feeling, the like of which she hadn’t experienced for over three years, where past and future ceased to exist and there was only the here and now.

  Racked by the most incredible pleasure, all she could do was cling on and ride wave upon wave until finally she was washed onto the shore, where she lay spent and shattered, like a survivor of some catastrophic force of nature.

  Jared’s head was heavy on her breast and she could feel his heart still thundering against her.

  As her own heartbeat and breathing gradually slowed to something approaching normal, she made an effort to gather herself.

  At the same time Jared raised his head and lifted himself away. Then, a hand softly stroking her cheek, his voice full of tenderness and concern, he asked, ‘All right?’

  Opening heavy eyelids, she looked up into his dark, handsome face.

  She nodded mutely, then finding her voice, whispered, ‘Wonderful.’

  An expression of pure male satisfaction appeared on his face that she found oddly moving.

  ‘That’s good,’ he told her softly, ‘because we’ve a lot of catching up to do, and in a little while I intend to make love to you all over again.’

  If that first time had been wonderful, the lovemaking that followed was indescribable. Like someone who had been too long denied, Jared made love to her not twice, but several times. Varied and inventive lovemaking that left her limp and quivering and totally blissful.

  Each time, when she thought herself sated, with deftness and skill and the sure knowledge of how the female body worked, he was able to re-coil that spiral of desire and bring her to yet another shuddering climax.

  When even his amazing stamina was finally eroded, he stretched out beside her and, cradling her in his arms, settled her head at the comfortable junction between chest and shoulder.

  After a short time, when his breathing grew light and even and his hold loosened slightly, easing herself away a little, she studied his face.

  In the early morning light she could see that his eyes were closed, the heavy lashes fanning out on his hard cheeks. With his firm mouth relaxed in sleep and some of the lines of pain smoothed away, he looked younger, more carefree, almost like the Jared of old.

  Since he had taken her in his arms and dried her tears, she had seen no sign of the hard, cruel man who had deliberately humiliated her.

  Though a masterful lover, he’d been kind and generous, careful and heartbreakingly tender, and after three long years in the wilderness she knew what it was to feel like a woman again.

  Just at the moment she could think no further ahead than that.

  Tiredness washing over her, she settled herself once more and in response to that slight movement his arm tightened around her possessively.

  When she awoke it was broad daylight, the muslin curtains were stirring a little in the slight breeze from the open windows and the room was filled with fresh air and sunshine.

  She was alone in the bed. There was no sign of Jared but the door between their two bedrooms was standing open.

  While her body felt sleek and contented, her brain seemed to be stuck in neutral, unable, or unwilling, to engage or function properly.

  Sitting up in bed, she listened. Faintly, in the background, were what she was starting to recognize as the normal sounds of the Valley, while closer at hand she could hear a shower running and a low tuneful whistling.

  Then the water and the whistling stopped and a moment or two later Jared appeared in the doorway, stark naked and still towelling his dark hair.

  She had a few seconds to feast her eyes on him before he realized she was awake and watching him. He looked happy, she thought, almost carefree, more like the man she had known and loved.

  He also looked so stunningly attractive, so very male, that the breath caught in her throat and her heart rate soared.

  At that moment he glanced up and, seeing she was awake, gave her that slow smile he had always reserved solely for her.

  ‘I came to see if you were awake and ready to eat but if you keep looking at me like that brunch might have to wait.’ Blushing a little, she tore her gaze away.

  Strolling over to the bed, the towel draped around his neck, he stood looking down at her.

  Suddenly conscious of her unwashed state and the fact that her hair was a tangled mass of rats tails and her eyes were probably still swollen, she said, ‘I must look an absolute fright.’

  ‘You’ve always looked beautiful first thing in the morning,’ he told her softly. ‘Fresh and sweet and utterly enchanting. Now, all tousled and inviting and still flushed with sleep, you look irresistible.’

  He stooped to give her a lingering kiss.

  Through the haze of pleasure that engulfed her, she smelled the clean fresh scent of toothpaste and shower gel and aftershave all mingled together and felt the slight dampness of his skin.

  ‘Mmm…’ he murmured against her lips. Then, without regret, ‘Brunch will have to wait after all.’

  As he slid back into bed and pulled her down into his arms, she made a half-hearted protest. ‘But what about your housekeeper? Suppose she came in and found us like this—’

  He stopped the words with a kiss before saying, ‘Hilary will be busy in the kitchen…And, in any case, as a respectable married couple, we’re quite entitled to be in bed together.’

  They made love more than once and ended up sharing a shower, so it was some considerable time later that, finally dressed for the day, they wended their way out on to the sunny terrace to break their fast.

  Perdita had been so engrossed by feelings that it wasn’t until they were sitting opposite each other beneath the partial shade of an umbrella that a shaft of bright sunlight falling across his face made her draw in her breath sharply.

  Seeing where her eyes were fixed, he lifted a hand and touched his
left cheek where, high on the cheekbone, there was a dull red mark and the beginnings of a bruise.

  ‘I did that?’ she breathed, aghast.

  ‘It’s where your ring caught me.’ His voice was easy, matter-of-fact.

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered huskily.

  He leaned across the table and took her hand. ‘Don’t be upset. I deserved it.’

  Then, looking at the wide chased-gold ring she wore on the middle finger of her right hand, a sudden edge to his voice, he asked, ‘Did Judson give you this?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. It was a twenty-first birthday present from Dad.’

  As he moved the ring round with his thumb in an attempt to read the ornate letters engraved on it, she told him, ‘It just says Perdita.’

  ‘Lost lady,’ he murmured softly. Reaching for the coffee pot, he added, ‘You’ve never told me why you were called Perdita.’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘We’ve got all day—’ he gave her hand a squeeze and released it before pouring the coffee ‘—so start from the beginning.’

  When she had taken a sip, she began, ‘My mother came from San Jose. Dad met her when he went out to California to help establish the American side of Judson Boyd Electronics.

  ‘It was love at first sight and within a matter of weeks they were married. They bought a house and set up home there, not far from where Elmer lives now.

  ‘When my mother was seven months pregnant, my father, who absolutely adored her, took her on a long-promised visit to New York.

  ‘The evening before they were due to fly back to California, she went into premature labour and had to be rushed into Rodanth Hospital.

  ‘There were complications and, while I was put in the premature baby unit, they struggled to save her life. It was touch and go and for twenty-four hours Dad never left her side.

  ‘When she finally regained consciousness fully and asked to see her baby, I couldn’t be found and she and Dad were warned that I might have died.