To Wear His Ring Again by Chantelle Shaw

night’s sleep. But perhaps his restless night could not be entirely blamed on the sofa, Constantin acknowledged fairly as he stood up and ran a hand over the dark stubble covering his jaw. The insistent throb of his arousal had kept him awake and his mind had been active as he had replayed the events of the previous night.
    Wearily he slid his hand from his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck. There had been some truth in Isobel’s accusation that he hadn’t understood how she had sought comfort from her grief in music and song writing. He had been jealous that she had turned to the company of her friends from the band, but his inability to express his own feelings about the loss of their baby meant that he had failed to support her when she had needed him.
    He glanced at the photos on the wall of the Stone Ladies performing at various venues around the world. Despite the tensions in their marriage he had not expected her to leave him. Isobel had made a new life for herself, and the pictures seemed to mock him with the message that she did not need him—financially, emotionally or any other way.
    But she had needed him last night, Constantin mused. It was significant that when she had escaped from the stalker, she hadn’t asked the concierge to call the police, but instead had run straight to
him
for help. When he had driven her home from the party she had been adamant that their marriage was over, but after her terrifying confrontation with the stalker she had rushed into
his
arms, desperate for his protection.
    The way she had responded to him when he had kissed her was further proof that she was not immune to him as she would like him to think.
    Constantin’s jaw hardened. His uncle’s threat to hand the role of Chairman of DSE to his cousin Maurio was nothing short of blackmail, but to claim his birthright he knew he had no option but to play Alonso’s game. The hard truth was that he needed to show his uncle that he was reconciled with his wife. The incident with the stalker had given him an ideal opportunity to get close to Isobel and persuade her to give their marriage another chance. Only he would know that the reconciliation would be temporary, he thought grimly.

CHAPTER SIX
    M EMORIES OF THE previous evening snapped into Isobel’s mind the second she opened her eyes. Amazingly, she had slept soundly and not dreamed about the stalker, but now that she was awake she remembered David’s strange air of nervy excitement, which had quickly turned to anger when she had refused to go away with him.
    She rolled over in bed and squinted against the bright sunshine pouring in through the open curtains, feeling puzzled because she distinctly remembered pulling them shut last night.
    â€˜I apologise for waking you.’ Constantin’s deep voice spoke from the doorway and Isobel’s heart performed a somersault as she watched him walk towards the bed. He placed the cup of tea he had made her on the bedside table. It was unfair that even after spending the night sleeping on the sofa he still looked as if he had stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine, she thought wryly as she studied his superbly tailored light grey suit, expensive white shirt and blue tie that matched the vivid blue of his eyes.
    She ran a hand through her tousled hair, feeling self-conscious that her face was scrubbed of make-up and flushed with sleep. ‘That’s okay. It’s time I was up anyway.’ The clock showed that it was nine-thirty. ‘I don’t usually sleep in this late.’
    He shrugged. ‘You had an eventful night.’
    The glint in his gaze made Isobel think that he was remembering, as she was, the passion that had flared between them when he had kissed her. He could have taken her to bed last night, she acknowledged, embarrassed to recall how eagerly she had responded to him. Hell, he could have tumbled her down onto the sofa and possessed her fast and hard with no