His Convenient Marriage. Sara Craven
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‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t. I’ll have to tell him here and now that it’s impossible.’
But she’d promised to consider his proposal, and she’d have to pretend to do so at least.
But she could not marry him. Not in a million years. Not even if Alastair never came back …
Chessie drew a deep, trembling sigh. There—she’d faced it at last. She’d allowed herself to admit the existence of the dream—the little foolish, groundless hope that had been growing inside her ever since she’d heard Jenny’s news.
And how ironic that Miles should have chosen today of all days to present her with his own plan for her future.
‘It never rains but it pours.’ That was what Mrs Chubb, their current and longest-serving daily help would say.
Her little laugh turned into a groan. Once she’d told Miles her decision, it would be impossible for her to stay on at Silvertrees. In spite of his assurances, it would make things altogether too awkward.
There was a temping agency in the nearby town. She would make enquiries there, and then trawl through the letting bureaux for the cheapest possible flat.
Oh, why had Miles done this to her? she asked herself with something bordering on despair. Things had been fine as they were, and now everything was ruined again. And it wasn’t as if he even wanted her.
Although that was something to be grateful for, at least. Because what would she have done if he had ever made a move on her?
Before she could stop herself, for one startled, stunned moment, she found she was imagining herself in Miles’ arms, breathing the musky scent of his skin, feeling his mouth move on hers, coaxing her lips apart. His lean, long-fingered hand grazing her skin in a first caress …
Chessie came gasping back to reality, like a diver reaching the surface of some deep lake. Every inch of her body was tingling. Inside the silk shirt, her small breasts were burning, the nipples hardening helplessly.
Her eyes were green, like a drowsy cat’s, she thought, gazing at herself in horror. Her lips, parted and trembling.
There was no way she could return to the table like this. Or he would know. And then she would be totally lost.
Oh, God, she thought frantically. What’s happening to me? And what am I doing to myself?
And could find no answer that made any sense at all.
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