taking control over a perfectly out-of-control situation, she turned to retrace her steps. She was hungry but the thought of food made her faintly nauseous and her head was hurting so badly she wasn’t sure she could keep anything down anyway.
She was still a good distance from the steps leading to her and Devon’s suite when she saw him striding toward her on the sand.
Even now after so much time to think and decide how she wanted to proceed, she wasn’t prepared to face him. How could she just go on after finding out he was nothing like the man she’d thought she’d married?
It was as if they were strangers. Intimate strangers who would now live together and pretend a loving existence to outsiders.
There weren’t manuals for this. Certainly no one had ever given her advice on such a matter. She wasn’t good at artifice. She hated lying. But it was what she’d asked him to do. It was what she herself had just decided to do with her friends and family. To the world.
“Where the hell have you been?” Devon demanded as he approached. “I was worried sick. I went in to check on you and you were gone.”
Before she could answer, he put his hand around her elbow and pulled her toward the glow cast from the torches that lined the beach.
She flinched away from the burst of light and he muttered something under his breath.
“Your headache isn’t any better, is it?” She slowly shook her head.
“Damn it, Ash, why didn’t you come to me? Or take another pill. You should be in bed. For that matter you’ve eaten nothing in twenty-four hours. You’re as pale as death and your eyes are glazed with pain.” She braced herself as he reached for her again, but his touch was in direct contrast to the tone of his voice.
He was infinitely gentle as he pulled her against his side and began leading her back to the suite.
Unable to resist the urge, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, trusting him to at least get her safely up the steps. His hold tightened around her and then to her shock, he simply swung her into his arms and began carrying her back.
“Put your head on my shoulder,” he said gruffly.
Relaxing against him, she did as he directed and for a few moments, basked in the tenderness of his hold.
Pretending was nice.
He carried her back into the suite, into the still-
darkened bedroom, and carefully laid her on the bed.
“Would you be more comfortable out of your jeans?” he asked. But even as he asked, he was unfastening her fly and pulling the zipper down.
He efficiently pulled her pants down her legs, leaving her in her panties and T-shirt. She lay there, cheek resting on the firm, cool pillow, and willed the pain to go away. All of it.
He sat on the edge of the bed and then turned, sliding his leg over the mattress and bending it so he was perched next to her.
“I’ll get you another pill, but I don’t think you should take it on an empty stomach. It might make you ill. But neither do you look as though you could keep down much so I’ll call down for some soup. Would you like something to drink? Could you handle some juice?” As he spoke, he smoothed his hand over her hair, stroking gently, and she had to bite her lip to keep the hot tears from slipping down her cheeks again. This wasn’t going to work if she broke down every time he was nice to her or took care of her.
And it wasn’t as if he was doing anything different than he’d done all along. It was one of the things that had made her think he loved her to begin with, even absent of the actual words. He’d been so…good…to her. So caring. Protective. Possessive. A guy couldn’t fake all of that, could he?
“Soup sounds good,” she said faintly.
He continued to stroke her hair and then his hand went still and he frowned. “Is that bothering you? I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure you must be supersensitive to any touch or sound.”
“It was…nice.”
“I’ll be right back. Let me order your soup. You
She was still a good distance from the steps leading to her and Devon’s suite when she saw him striding toward her on the sand.
Even now after so much time to think and decide how she wanted to proceed, she wasn’t prepared to face him. How could she just go on after finding out he was nothing like the man she’d thought she’d married?
It was as if they were strangers. Intimate strangers who would now live together and pretend a loving existence to outsiders.
There weren’t manuals for this. Certainly no one had ever given her advice on such a matter. She wasn’t good at artifice. She hated lying. But it was what she’d asked him to do. It was what she herself had just decided to do with her friends and family. To the world.
“Where the hell have you been?” Devon demanded as he approached. “I was worried sick. I went in to check on you and you were gone.”
Before she could answer, he put his hand around her elbow and pulled her toward the glow cast from the torches that lined the beach.
She flinched away from the burst of light and he muttered something under his breath.
“Your headache isn’t any better, is it?” She slowly shook her head.
“Damn it, Ash, why didn’t you come to me? Or take another pill. You should be in bed. For that matter you’ve eaten nothing in twenty-four hours. You’re as pale as death and your eyes are glazed with pain.” She braced herself as he reached for her again, but his touch was in direct contrast to the tone of his voice.
He was infinitely gentle as he pulled her against his side and began leading her back to the suite.
Unable to resist the urge, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, trusting him to at least get her safely up the steps. His hold tightened around her and then to her shock, he simply swung her into his arms and began carrying her back.
“Put your head on my shoulder,” he said gruffly.
Relaxing against him, she did as he directed and for a few moments, basked in the tenderness of his hold.
Pretending was nice.
He carried her back into the suite, into the still-
darkened bedroom, and carefully laid her on the bed.
“Would you be more comfortable out of your jeans?” he asked. But even as he asked, he was unfastening her fly and pulling the zipper down.
He efficiently pulled her pants down her legs, leaving her in her panties and T-shirt. She lay there, cheek resting on the firm, cool pillow, and willed the pain to go away. All of it.
He sat on the edge of the bed and then turned, sliding his leg over the mattress and bending it so he was perched next to her.
“I’ll get you another pill, but I don’t think you should take it on an empty stomach. It might make you ill. But neither do you look as though you could keep down much so I’ll call down for some soup. Would you like something to drink? Could you handle some juice?” As he spoke, he smoothed his hand over her hair, stroking gently, and she had to bite her lip to keep the hot tears from slipping down her cheeks again. This wasn’t going to work if she broke down every time he was nice to her or took care of her.
And it wasn’t as if he was doing anything different than he’d done all along. It was one of the things that had made her think he loved her to begin with, even absent of the actual words. He’d been so…good…to her. So caring. Protective. Possessive. A guy couldn’t fake all of that, could he?
“Soup sounds good,” she said faintly.
He continued to stroke her hair and then his hand went still and he frowned. “Is that bothering you? I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure you must be supersensitive to any touch or sound.”
“It was…nice.”
“I’ll be right back. Let me order your soup. You
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