Second-Best Bride. SARA WOOD
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that how her father had seduced his second wife into parting with her fortune? By charm and stealth and smooth talk?
Trader came to stand behind the chair, and remained there for several seconds without doing anything. The hairs rose on the back of her neck while she sat waiting, her hands firmly gripping the low neckline of her dress as a precaution. Eventually, after an eternity, he swept the headdress to one side in a drift of silk that caressed her smooth shoulder in a soft, erotic whisper and she gave an involuntary shiver. Her whole body waited for the touch of his hands and every fibre of her being had become focused on her naked and unprotected back.
‘Claire——’ he husked thickly.
‘For heaven’s sake, get on with it!’ she cried in agitation, unable to bear the suspense. There was a sensation running down her spine that frightened her. Fear and anticipation. Half of her wanted him to kiss each vertebra, to surround it with his warm mouth. The rest of her wanted to pick up her skirts and run for safety. A snake-pit would be fine.
‘Of course, darling,’ he soothed and she felt the satin voice wash over her, calming her doubts despite her struggle to stay wary. ‘We are pushed for time. I merely wanted to say how I adore you. How much I want to hold you in my arms.’ He gave a wicked little chuckle. ‘But it wouldn’t stop there, would it?’
Yes, she wanted to say. It would.
One of his palms came into contact with her back and she shuddered again, the desire to have it stroke her skin far too strong for her to deny. But Trader grunted, she felt the tug on the zip and so she drew herself erect to help its slow progress upwards. It couldn’t be that difficult a task, but she seemed suspended in a heavily dragging time while the material gradually closed over her lower back and then each straining rib; one by one, inch by excruciatingly exciting inch.
Probably to taunt her, he took a painful age to do up the fastening at the top, and she agonised over the touch of his fingers on her flesh. Something fierce and raw was piercing her body, something alarmingly sexual had made her vibrate to his practised caress. Each time he brushed her skin she quivered with a strange, vibrant life that made her blush with shame.
It was deliberate, she told herself. Part of his seduction. And mentally she clad herself in an impenetrable armour.
‘It’s a beautiful dress,’ he murmured. Idly his hand ran down the sheathing material that now encased her back. ‘You have such a tiny waist,’ he mused, sounding huskier by the second. ‘I think my hands could——’
‘Please!’ she breathed in agony. The armour was melting!
In a sudden, abrupt movement, he appeared by her side and wordlessly handed her the water. ‘Tell me when you feel you can continue,’ he said, his features as brittle as his voice. He regarded her with steady, unsmiling eyes. Cold, bleak, scary. It wasn’t her imagination that tinged his words with a sinister menace. He was watching her warily, as though judging the extent of her surrender to his magnetic personality. ‘Your mother will be worried,’ he said quietly.
‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she cried angrily. ‘You don’t have to rub it in. I hate the way you and my father use her condition to force me to do what you want!’
‘I want to marry you,’ he said tightly. ‘That’s hardly the vile deed you seem to be suggesting by your tone. I’m sorry if I pressurised you. But do me a favour and don’t bracket me with your father in the same breath!’
‘You’re alike,’ she muttered and met his glittering eyes with defiance.
‘Not by one iota,’ he said savagely.
Her eyes reflected her mute contradiction. Both were big men, both were charmers who liked to get their own way. And, now that she had to tell him she wasn’t going back, what would he do? He was very physical—she knew that, from the way he’d run across Ballymare beach with her, while she perched on his shoulders. Strong, too; his hands had made light work of shifting Dan O’Connor’s heavy old boat. She quivered with nerves.
But they couldn’t begin married life with dark secrets between them. She loved him deeply and she didn’t want him to marry her because she was attached to a pile of money. She’d rather wait till he came to her of his own free will. Her legs trembled. She sought to hide that fact by twisting them around each other beneath the huge skirt.
‘I think you have something to tell me,’ she said in a weird little croak.
Trader froze. He’s guilty! she thought in dismay. Her hands began to shake visibly and she put the glass down, straining to interpret the expression on his bleak face.
‘I have? Like…what?’ he asked, non-committally.
‘Let’s start with why someone stopped our wedding ceremony!’ she said quietly. And added, ‘Or did that escape your notice?!’
‘Hardly,’ he said coldly. ‘Nor did your sarcasm. I don’t like your tone, Claire.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘And I don’t like your secrets!’ she cried hysterically. ‘Can’t you see what a state I’m in? Just tell me and put me out of my misery: what exactly is the reason we shouldn’t get married?’
Every stupid inch of her was screwed up in anticipation of his answer and she knew with a terrible despair that she was more than eager to believe any excuse he dreamed up. And how she’d loathe herself if she did! He had her heart and soul. It would be disastrous if he claimed her pride as well.
‘None. I’m not married, I’ve not been certified insane and I have all the parts a woman could want in a husband. And I don’t have any notifiable disease. OK?’
She flushed. ‘Don’t patronise me, Trader!’ she snapped.
‘I was trying to lighten you up,’ he grated. ‘You don’t have a lot of faith in me, do you? God help us both if something really serious comes to test us,’ he added thoughtfully. She glared but he went on, ‘There was no objection to our marriage. Poor Phoenix was being hassled by some guy, wanting her address. She got irritable and told him to wait.’
‘That’s all?! It—it sounds far-fetched,’ she said hesitantly.
‘It’s the truth!’ he insisted. ‘I was shaken too, Claire. I’ve been on edge ever since we parted yesterday afternoon. I haven’t slept, wondering whether you’d turn up this morning——’
‘Is there a reason I shouldn’t?’ she asked quickly.
He grimaced. ‘A thousand. Or so I persuaded myself.’ His mouth made a half-hearted attempt at a wry grin. ‘I’ve never felt so unsure of someone in my life. Or as uncertain of anything. It’s a new experience and I don’t like it.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I came here for a break in my hectic life, not to find a bride. I have things to do which don’t leave room for a steady relationship, let alone a wife. But…you can’t ignore opportunity, can you?’ he said with a rueful grin.
‘Maybe we both should,’ she said bitterly.
‘Look, I know I’ve pushed you for this marriage. But you know why.’
‘Yes,’ she said shakily. ‘I think I do.’
With a groan, he knelt at her feet and laid a firm hand on her knee. Its heat burned through the layers of petticoats, warming her frozen skin. But despite his apparently submissive position, she had the impression of being trapped. His strength, his faint air of menace, the piercing command of his eyes all added up to domination. And she wanted parity.
‘Thank God for that!’ He gave her a dazzling grin that lit up his face and, fool that she was, she immediately felt that he was the man she’d fallen in love with again. ‘Darling, all I want is to be with you,’ he said persuasively. ‘I know you feel the same. I don’t need anyone else. You’re my friend and always will be. Doesn’t that tell you we have something special, something unique?’
Claire’s thick fringe of lashes closed with