Vengeful Vows (Marriage At First Sight Book 3)

by Yvonne Lindsay

  There was something about the way he said benefits that sent a surge of need through her body. She swallowed against the involuntary sound that rose in her throat and silently prayed that her hardened nipples were not painfully obvious through her light T-shirt.

  “I’m ready!”

  Ellie’s voice behind her made her start and come back to her senses. Of course Galen hadn’t meant anything like the benefits her runaway hormones wanted. Or had he? There was a mischievous gleam in his eye now that wasn’t there before. Oh yes, he was well aware of the train of her thoughts, and their effect on her body.

  “Excellent work, kiddo. I’ll drive you over to their house in a moment. Just let me get my keys.”

  He was back in under a minute. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “You haven’t had your breakfast yet,” Peyton pointed out as she settled at the table and helped herself to toast and scrambled eggs that Leilani had left on a covered warmer for them.

  “I’ll be back in ten. I’ll eat then.”

  “Galen?” Ellie said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Why don’t you and Peyton kiss when you say bye, like Mommy and Daddy always did?”

  A sensation, not unlike icy-cold water, ran down Peyton’s spine.

  “Maybe Peyton can answer that,” Galen offered, looking at her with the light of challenge in his eyes.

  “We don’t know each other as well as your mommy and daddy did,” Peyton said awkwardly.

  “My mommy said that Daddy kissed her on their very first date and she knew then that she was going to marry him. You two should kiss, too, and hold hands. That’s what married people do, right?”

  “I, ah...” Peyton’s voice trailed off as she tried to think of something suitable to say.

  “Like this?” Galen asked.

  Peyton stiffened as Galen bent down and brushed her cheek with his lips. She felt a sense of intense relief when he left it at that.

  “No, silly, like they do in the movies,” Ellie said with a giggle.

  “Oh, like this, you mean?”

  Peyton wasn’t ready for it. In fact, in a million years she’d never be ready for it, but he did it anyway. Galen bent down again and, tipping her chin up with one hand, took her lips in a kiss that honestly made her toes curl and her gut clench on another of those irritating surges of desire. He teased her lips open, deepening their kiss as her senses went into overdrive. Their only points of contact were his fingers at her chin and his lips on hers and yet her entire body went up in flames. For a moment she lost all sense of where she was, not to mention who was watching, and when Galen pulled back she was left feeling breathless with her mind spinning out of control.

  That shouldn’t have happened. The kiss. Her reaction. Any of it.

  “Exactly like that,” Ellie chortled from the other side of the room.

  “Good to know,” Galen replied with a quick grin before directing his next words to Peyton. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to miss me too much.”

  And then, with a wink, he was gone.

  Seven

  Galen listened to Ellie chattering excitedly to him all the way to the resort manager’s house and knew he was making the right responses, but internally he was in turmoil. Kissing Peyton like that had started as a bit of fun, and maybe to put a lid on Ellie’s questions. But what the hell had he been thinking? What was supposed to be a sweet kiss had rapidly turned into a full-on assault on his equilibrium.

  Yes, he’d begun to think he wanted more than a simple companionable marriage with Peyton, but this was something else entirely. That kiss had ignited a hunger in him that, now woken, would only continue to demand. And what if those demands weren’t met? He wasn’t about to force Peyton into anything that she didn’t want. The very idea turned his stomach. But she’d been a willing participant in that kiss they’d just had, and that gave him hope—a great deal of hope—that with careful handling, theirs could become a real marriage. One with a strong physical connection.

  He’d observed Valentin with his wife, and Ilya with his. When they were in the same room with their respective spouses it was as if there was an invisible current that ran between them. A link that couldn’t be broken. He’d never thought for a minute that he wanted that kind of link with someone else. Oh, sure. He’d enjoyed relationships in the past, but he’d never wanted the depth of connectedness that his brother and cousin shared with their wives—until now. And now that he wanted it, he needed to figure out how to get it because, on the surface, Peyton had entered their marriage on similar terms to his. She hadn’t mentioned wanting a grand passion; getting her to say what she wanted was a mission in itself.

  It was a good thing he was man enough for the mission, he told himself as he pulled up outside the resort manager’s house. He and Ellie got out of the car and were greeted by the resort manager and his daughter. When Galen was certain Ellie was comfortable with them and had arranged the time to pick her up, he headed back to the house feeling oddly nervous.

  As far as he could see, no one remained happy in a marriage without some form of physical closeness—whether it was a grand passion or something more companionable. Based on how Peyton had reacted to their kiss, he knew she was capable of the former, although it left him wondering why she’d want to settle for anything less.

  Peyton was in the kitchen when he got back. She’d obviously been busy. A packed hamper and cooler sat on the table.

  “I wasn’t sure what you wanted for our boat ride, so I just made sandwiches and grabbed some fruit and snacks and drinks.”

  Normally, Peyton appeared serene, untouchable. Right now she looked uncertain, as if she needed his reassurance. He hastened to give it to her.

  “Sounds perfect. I was going to ask Leilani to do that for us, but since you’ve already done it, we can head straight to the marina. Have you packed your swimsuit?”

  “I’m wearing it under this,” she said, gesturing to her clothing.

  He spied the ties of a halter snaking up from the neckline of her T-shirt. Did that mean she was wearing a two-piece today? His blood pressure kicked up a notch. Until now she’d been wearing a one-piece, and he had the distinct feeling that seeing her in a bikini could well undo him.

  He grabbed the hamper and cooler and led the way back out to the car.

  “You don’t need us to grab towels or anything?” Peyton said, hanging back a little.

  “Everything we need is on the boat,” he answered.

  “Just how big is this boat?” Peyton asked.

  “She’s thirty-six feet. Good for blue-water sailing but I rarely have time for that these days.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot bigger than I was thinking.”

  “You’ll love it. If you’ve enjoyed sailing on a smaller yacht, you’ll really have fun on this one.”

  She fell silent and he could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

  “What is it?” he prodded her.

  “Nothing, except... I guess I just can’t quite get used to everything you seem to take for granted.”

  He frowned slightly. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. I might be accustomed to a high standard of living, but trust me, I don’t take one moment of it for granted. I saved darn hard for Galatea and bought her when I was in my early twenties. She was my first ever major acquisition and I felt so incredibly proud of myself the first time I took her out.”

  “Galatea is the goddess of calm seas in Greek mythology, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. You’re a fan of Greek mythology?”

  “I did some papers on it in relation to classical literature in college.”

  “Sounds heavy,” he said as he approached the car and opened the passenger door for her.

  “It was. I think I preferred the fairy-tale versions of mythology told to me when I was a kid.”

  There was
a wistful tone to her voice that prompted him to remain silent. Was she starting to open up a little more? He watched as she wrinkled her nose and grimaced briefly.

  “But life’s not about fairy tales, is it? Mythology is based on many brutal and sad stories.”

  “Some would say modern journalism isn’t far different.”

  “Except it’s based in exposing truth, not make-believe.”

  “Is that what appeals to you about your work? Getting to the core of things?”

  He’d done some Google searches at night when he couldn’t sleep for wondering about the woman sleeping down the hallway from him. Several of her articles were online and he’d been struck by the raw honesty in them. She didn’t hold back from telling the truth, which was why she presented such a conundrum to him in real life. If writing in nitty-gritty detail was such an intrinsic part of her, why was she so selective about what she chose to reveal to him in person?

  “You could say that. I hate injustice on any level. It needs to be exposed and the people perpetrating it held accountable for their actions.”

  Galen put the car into gear and headed down the driveway, surprised at the simmering anger in her tone.

  “I read your piece on migrant workers. It was good,” he said, opting for conversational safe ground.

  “Thank you. I was rather proud of that assignment.”

  “So you’re completely freelance?”

  “Yes, I prefer being able to pick and choose my projects. It’s a freedom that I worked hard to attain. Now I feel like I’m really doing what I was called to do.”

  “I’m glad for you. Everyone should be able to do what they love, right?”

  Peyton felt the familiar anger toward Alice Horvath bubble in her veins. Yes, everyone should be able to do what they loved and not be persecuted and have false accusations made against them. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She couldn’t let her emotions get the better of her or she might slip up. This particular assignment was all too close to her heart and she wanted to give it her best. Her best meant never letting her guard down around the man sitting next to her, steering the sleek convertible toward the marina.

  “It’s a privilege to be able to do so. Not one I take for granted. I guess I’m a bit like you in that regard.”

  “Good to know we have some things in common,” he answered lightly.

  He pulled up in a parking lot beside rows and rows of berthed vessels. The sheer wealth exhibited here should have disgusted her but she couldn’t help thinking of how much joy each of these symbols of exclusivity brought to the people who owned them, not to mention the jobs created building and outfitting them.

  “We both breathe air, that’s another thing,” she said, her voice dry.

  As she expected, Galen burst out laughing. “I would hope we have more in common than that,” he said, still chuckling as he retrieved the hamper and cooler from the trunk and led her down one of the jetties toward a gleaming white-and-blue yacht.

  “She’s beautiful,” Peyton said, pointing out the elegantly scripted name on the back of his yacht.

  “My first true love.”

  “And your second?”

  He stepped across onto the deck and held a hand out to assist her. His eyes met hers. “I’ll let you know.”

  Peyton’s throat dried and she swallowed hard. Was he implying he was falling in love with her? Surely not. It was too soon. Besides, he’d said at the wedding he wasn’t looking for that kind of relationship.

  But then there was that kiss. Peyton assured herself he had only done that to satisfy Ellie. It wasn’t as if he had wanted to do it; he’d been coerced. And she certainly hadn’t wanted it, either. She’d been taken completely by surprise. She couldn’t lie to herself, though. It had been one heck of a kiss. Even now, just thinking about it made her press her lips together as if she could re-create the sensations he’d drawn from her.

  She followed Galen through a hatch that led to a well-appointed galley and seating area below deck. He stripped off his shirt and dropped it on a squab in the dining area. In the close quarters, with him now wearing nothing but a pair of boat shoes and swim shorts, and without Ellie here as chaperone, Peyton was almost afraid of what she might do. Repeat the kiss of this morning, perhaps? More, even? Like, reach out and touch him—discover if he was as hot to touch as she felt right now?

  “How about I put everything away for you,” she blurted. “You get us going.”

  “Sure, but before we do, could you put sunblock on my back? I did everywhere else this morning.”

  Couldn’t he just keep his shirt on? She mentally rolled her eyes. She didn’t even know why she was reacting like this. She’d done it for him already a few times when they’d been down on the beach. But that was before they’d kissed.

  “I promise I’ll return the favor,” he said, handing her the tube of lotion.

  “I, ah... I thought I might keep my shirt on today,” she said, taking the lotion from him and squirting a liberal amount into her palm.

  “Sure, that works. As long as you don’t mind that scratchy feeling of wearing it home after we’ve been snorkeling.”

  He had a point. Why did he have to go and kiss her like that this morning? It had changed everything. She began to rub the lotion onto his back, smoothing it along his lean, powerful shoulders and massaging it down the long muscles that lined his spine. He stood there like a statue, seemingly immune to her touch, while all the time her palms and fingertips tingled and her hands ached to travel around his waist to his belly and up to his chest—and then lower. So maybe the kiss had only changed everything for her.

  She slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re done.”

  Galen turned slowly. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.

  “Take off your shirt,” he commanded.

  Her eyes flicked back up to his face. Yes, that had been a command. The man looked determined. She spun slowly around and slipped off her T-shirt. The contrast of cold lotion and his very warm hands made her gasp as he began to apply the sunblock to her skin. His long, smooth, sure strokes made every muscle in her body tense in anticipation.

  “Lift your arms,” he instructed, his voice not sounding as confident as usual.

  She did as he said and her breath caught in her throat as he smoothed sunblock on her sides, almost, but not quite, touching her breasts as he did so. Her nipples had bunched into aching peaks and every nerve was attuned to his touch. And then he stopped. She didn’t know whether to rejoice or be disappointed.

  “I’ll go start up the motor and get ready to cast off.”

  Again, his voice held that strange note. At least he could speak. Words totally failed her. If he’d turned her around and kissed her again she doubted they’d have made it out of the marina today.

  She looked toward the stateroom beyond where she stood. To the very large bed that stretched from one wall of the room to the other. She snatched her gaze away and schooled her thoughts.

  She heard the sound of his feet on the steps leading to the deck and finally allowed her body to relax. It was no good, though. She could still feel the aftereffects of his touch on her skin. The sureness of his long fingers. His heat, which had ignited a simmering cauldron inside her. She stared unseeing at the picnic hamper to be unpacked. She needed to move but it was as if she was locked in a sensual trap, held captive by her own wants.

  Eight

  Galen kept his hands fisted around the wheel as he guided Galatea from her berth and out of the marina. Walking away from Peyton just now was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Every instinct in his body and his mind had urged him to turn her around and pull her to him. To feel the heat of her skin against his. To lower his lips to her mouth and kiss her again. To find out whether those crazy fireworks that had ignited this morning were nothing more than an abe
rration.

  But he knew if he’d done that, he wouldn’t have known where to stop. They’d likely have ended up in the bed on board the yacht, and he wanted to know that when they came together she came willingly and with as much hunger for him as he had for her.

  That day would come, he consoled himself as he fought to get his body and his thoughts back under control. He needed to keep his focus on the job at hand, which was negotiating past the breakwater out into the sea. Galatea had woven her magic, he noted, as the sea was serenely calm today. A complete contrast to the way his mind felt right now.

  He saw Peyton come up on deck. “Can I get you anything?” she asked, looking hesitant.

  “Perhaps you’d like to take the wheel while I get the sails ready.”

  “Sure.”

  Even with the gentle sea breeze brushing past his body like a lover’s caress, he could feel the warmth that came off her as she came to stand beside him.

  “I have a confession to make,” she said ruefully as she stared at the wheel.

  “And that is?”

  “I’ve never steered a boat as big as this before.”

  “You’ll be fine. The principle is the same.”

  He quickly gave her a few instructions, concluding with, “So when I give you a shout, you can turn off the motor.”

  She was a quick study, he noted, when a short time later the sound of the engine died away and the only noise around them was the wind catching in the sails.

  “This is incredible,” Peyton said with a laugh.

  He looked at her beautiful face and smiled in return. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked completely relaxed. He wanted to see her like this more often. Open and carefree, instead of closed and, dare he say it, suspicious. He realized the latter attitude may come with the territory in her line of work. But right now she was happy, and he’d bask in that for as long as it lasted.

  After sailing for an hour or so, they took down the sails and put down anchor near a small, sheltered bay. They ate their lunch and lay on the deck for a while, soaking up the sun.