surprised if he had ignored her
request, but a few moments later she heard the bathroom door close, and
when she opened her eyes again, she was alone.
A leisurely, scented bath did much to restore her
equilibrium, out it did nothing for the deep-seated ache in the region
of her heart. During those brief moments, while the room had swayed
about her, she had discovered the reason why she had feared Anton ever
since their first meeting on Robert's yacht. Physically, Anton had made
a shattering impact on her senses, and something must have warned her,
even men, that her heart would not escape unscathed if she should be
foolish enough to tangle with him. With Robert and Elizabeth no longer
there, fate had taken over in the cruellest way, and she had been
thrust into the very hands she had wanted to evade. She could not put a
label to her feelings—not yet—but she knew, without
doubt, that the day would soon come when she would have to admit that
Anton DeVere meant more to her than any man ever could or would in
future.
She sighed unsteadily as she slipped her arms into the
sleeves of her blue satin dressing gown, and she tied the belt firmly
about her slim waist before leaving the bathroom. Relieved to find the
bedroom empty, she seated herself in front of the dressing-table mirror
to remove the pins from her hair. Long, firm strokes with the brush
blended a sheen of honey into the soft brown, making her look young and
vulnerable, and somehow appealing when Anton entered the room a few
minutes later.
Her wide blue eyes took in his appearance from the sheen
of dampness on his dark hair after his shower, down to the brown
towelling robe which accentuated the superb physical fitness of his
wide-shouldered, lean-hipped frame, and her heart hammered against her
ribs as he came towards her. She was on the verge of panic when she
noticed that he was carrying two mugs on a tray, and her questioning
glance swept upwards once more to meet his.
'It's cocoa,' he told her abruptly with the faintest smile
touching his lips as he placed the tray on the dressing-table and
pulled up a chair for himself before handing her a mug.
Laura murmured her thanks unsteadily and frowned down into
the cocoa as if the reason for this thoughtful gesture lay hidden in
its milky depths.
'I haven't slipped poison into your drink, if that's what
you're thinking,' he mocked her, and a flush stained her cheeks as she
looked up sharply.
'I was thinking,' she told him coldly, 'that it was kind
of you to make us something to drink.'
'It was thirst, not kindness, that made me do it,' he
stated flatly, leaning forward to place a heavy hand on her knee. 'I'm
never kind, and well you know it.'
She stared down at his hand in a hypnotic fashion, un-able
to move when he slid it up along her thigh in a sensually arousing
caress that made her quiver responsively before he released her and sat
back in his chair to drink his cocoa.
There had been nothing casual about his touch. It had been
a deliberately taunting gesture to prove to her that he controlled her
as completely as he controlled everything else in his life, but, for
the first time, this thought did not repel her.
She felt his eyes on her while she sipped at her drink,
and cursed herself for not having put on something beneath her gown.
After almost two months of marriage to Anton she did not have to be
told that his tanned, muscular body was clad in nothing but his
towelling robe, and her cheeks went pink at the thought.
'Is there no possibility of your going with us to Gordon's
Bay?' she asked hurriedly, attempting to steer her thoughts along a
less disturbing avenue.
'No possibility at all.'
'But couldn't you—'
'Dammit, Laura,' he interrupted bitingly, placing his
empty mug on the tray with a thump that made her flinch visibly as he
got to his feet, 'I'm up to my ears in work, and you sit there nagging
like a child!'
'I wasn't nagging,' she insisted calmly. 'I merely asked
if—'
'I know damn well
request, but a few moments later she heard the bathroom door close, and
when she opened her eyes again, she was alone.
A leisurely, scented bath did much to restore her
equilibrium, out it did nothing for the deep-seated ache in the region
of her heart. During those brief moments, while the room had swayed
about her, she had discovered the reason why she had feared Anton ever
since their first meeting on Robert's yacht. Physically, Anton had made
a shattering impact on her senses, and something must have warned her,
even men, that her heart would not escape unscathed if she should be
foolish enough to tangle with him. With Robert and Elizabeth no longer
there, fate had taken over in the cruellest way, and she had been
thrust into the very hands she had wanted to evade. She could not put a
label to her feelings—not yet—but she knew, without
doubt, that the day would soon come when she would have to admit that
Anton DeVere meant more to her than any man ever could or would in
future.
She sighed unsteadily as she slipped her arms into the
sleeves of her blue satin dressing gown, and she tied the belt firmly
about her slim waist before leaving the bathroom. Relieved to find the
bedroom empty, she seated herself in front of the dressing-table mirror
to remove the pins from her hair. Long, firm strokes with the brush
blended a sheen of honey into the soft brown, making her look young and
vulnerable, and somehow appealing when Anton entered the room a few
minutes later.
Her wide blue eyes took in his appearance from the sheen
of dampness on his dark hair after his shower, down to the brown
towelling robe which accentuated the superb physical fitness of his
wide-shouldered, lean-hipped frame, and her heart hammered against her
ribs as he came towards her. She was on the verge of panic when she
noticed that he was carrying two mugs on a tray, and her questioning
glance swept upwards once more to meet his.
'It's cocoa,' he told her abruptly with the faintest smile
touching his lips as he placed the tray on the dressing-table and
pulled up a chair for himself before handing her a mug.
Laura murmured her thanks unsteadily and frowned down into
the cocoa as if the reason for this thoughtful gesture lay hidden in
its milky depths.
'I haven't slipped poison into your drink, if that's what
you're thinking,' he mocked her, and a flush stained her cheeks as she
looked up sharply.
'I was thinking,' she told him coldly, 'that it was kind
of you to make us something to drink.'
'It was thirst, not kindness, that made me do it,' he
stated flatly, leaning forward to place a heavy hand on her knee. 'I'm
never kind, and well you know it.'
She stared down at his hand in a hypnotic fashion, un-able
to move when he slid it up along her thigh in a sensually arousing
caress that made her quiver responsively before he released her and sat
back in his chair to drink his cocoa.
There had been nothing casual about his touch. It had been
a deliberately taunting gesture to prove to her that he controlled her
as completely as he controlled everything else in his life, but, for
the first time, this thought did not repel her.
She felt his eyes on her while she sipped at her drink,
and cursed herself for not having put on something beneath her gown.
After almost two months of marriage to Anton she did not have to be
told that his tanned, muscular body was clad in nothing but his
towelling robe, and her cheeks went pink at the thought.
'Is there no possibility of your going with us to Gordon's
Bay?' she asked hurriedly, attempting to steer her thoughts along a
less disturbing avenue.
'No possibility at all.'
'But couldn't you—'
'Dammit, Laura,' he interrupted bitingly, placing his
empty mug on the tray with a thump that made her flinch visibly as he
got to his feet, 'I'm up to my ears in work, and you sit there nagging
like a child!'
'I wasn't nagging,' she insisted calmly. 'I merely asked
if—'
'I know damn well
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