She shivered.
“You’re cold,” he said.
“No, I’m n—what are you doing?” It came out more as a squeak than an indignant protest.
“Warming you.” He’d turned on his side and flipped her on hers facing away from him. She tried to struggle but his arms simply wrapped around her and she found herself clamped to him, all down the length of her body, her back against his chest, her limbs tucked between his and her bottom pressed against she wasn’t even going to think what.
“I’m not cold.”
“You were shivering, and no wonder, in that altogether delightful garment you’re not quite wearing. Did you wear it for me?”
“No. I only wore it because there was nothing else.” And she was shivering because he was in her bed and making her feel things. Things she didn’t want to feel.
“Mm-hmm,” he said as if didn’t believe a word. “That’s a good description for a garment like that, ‘nothing else.’ Not quite nude, not quite clothed. Not that I have any objection to it, far from it. What I saw of it was stunning. You’ll have to show it to me properly one day.”
“I won’t.”
“It feels like silk. Is it silk? They say silk should be so fine it could pass through a wedding ring. Do you think it would pass through your wedding ring? You could slip it off and see. It wouldn’t make any difference to me.”
“Stop it. I have no intention of taking it off. You said this marriage was to be—” She couldn’t think of the word. “—like chess!” she hissed.
“Fine game, chess,” he murmured in her ear. His breath was warm on her skin.
“Let me go.” She tried to push him away.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he told her. “I’m not going to do anything. But you were lying there like a corpse all laid out with your arms crossed over your chest, and shivering, and you won’t get a wink of sleep like that.”
“Do you think I’ll sleep like this?” she demanded.
“Perhaps not, but it will be much more comfortable than lying like a corpse.” He squeezed her. “Isn’t that nice?”
“No,” she lied. “I am very uncomfortable.”
It was a mistake, for he used it as an excuse to wriggle closer and pull her more firmly into the curve of his body. “Now go to sleep.”
She lay there stiffly, crossly, knowing she’d never sleep, not with him in the bed making her all hot and tingly and aching and unsettled.
If this was how he started a marriage, she would have no chance at all of protecting her heart from him. He was that sort of man. She doubted any woman could resist him.
But it wasn’t serious for him. He lived in the moment—he’d said that once, told her it was a soldier’s habit, to seize the moment and live it to the full while there was life in you.
She couldn’t live like that. Not anymore. She didn’t take things lightly, like he did.
He’d found her on a cliff top and with no more thought than you’d give to rescuing a stray cat, picked her and Nicky up, took them home, protected them, and even married her, all without hesitation, and apparently without the endless worry that came with every decision she’d ever made.
So here he was, and here she was in bed with him, his powerful arms wrapped around her, his heat soaking into her. And as usual, he was seizing the moment—and her—and she was fretting about imaginary consequences.
He desired her—the hard, blunt evidence of that was pressing insistently against her body—and she knew he could simply take her if he wanted. He was very strong and they were alone, and legally he had the right. And of course he would want a reward for all his trouble. He deserved it.
Yet he’d made no attempt to take her, or even press her to change her mind. He was a man of his word. She respected that, even if right now, she was finding his rectitude irritating and inconvenient.
He’d made no secret of what he wanted from her all along. He’d been quite open and blatant, from the very first day when he’d suggested she become his mistress.
Probably once he bedded her, he’d lose interest. That was what she wanted. It was.
She moistened her lips, thinking about it. Ever since she’d met him she hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it might be like with him. It meant nothing, she reminded herself. It was simply a matter of normal feminine curiosity.
The hard relaxed power of his big body lying against her was so tempting. She would love to explore it. She was aware of every single place they touched, and where skin touched skin and where skin and skin were separated by the merest whisper of silk.
