His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride. Catherine SpencerЧитать онлайн книгу.
mouth felt dry.
Vince went past her, beaming at the money in his hand, calling a cheerful goodnight as he went. Moments later she heard the buggy wheeze into life, then fade into the distance, and knew that she and Joel were alone.
Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she made her way to the right-hand room. Her case was standing by the range of fitted wardrobes along one wall. The wide bed was flanked by two night tables, and made up with sheets and pillows in dazzling white, with a matching coverlet neatly folded across the foot.
An electric fan turned quietly on the ceiling, and the gauzy white drapes at the tall window stirred lazily in the draught.
Apart from that—nothing. Just space, and peace.
Investigating further, Darcy discovered a frankly glamorous bathroom, tiled in white and gold, with a massive tub and separate roomy shower. The shelves above the twin wash basins held an array of expensive toiletries, and there were stacks of fluffy towels. The robe hanging behind the door was white towelling too.
No lock or bolt on the door, she registered, or on the bedroom door either. Clearly, seclusion had its limits.
Well, she was here now, and she would just have to make the best of it, she thought, unzipping her case and beginning to transfer its contents to the wardrobes and drawers.
Mrs Inman had done her proud, she realised wryly. As well as bikinis and sarongs, the housekeeper had packed several casual skirts and tops, and a couple of her favourite filmy dresses with their accompanying bags and strappy sandals.
And also, wrapped in tissue and tied with a ribbon, a nightgown, filmy as a cloud in ivory chiffon, with a bodice and straps made from tiny silk flowers, which she’d never seen before.
She was staring down at it, when she became aware she was being watched.
She turned to see Joel leaning in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of cream denim jeans, worn low on the hips. He was barefoot, and the rest of him was tanned, muscular and bare too.
She swallowed. ‘I’d be glad if you’d knock in future.’
‘And I’d be equally grateful if you’d chill out,’ he retorted. ‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’ He paused. ‘I came to see if you fancied a swim. Because the pool’s right there outside the windows.’
‘Thank you for telling me.’ She dropped the nightdress back into her case as if it had scorched her fingers.
‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked.
‘It’s—very pretty,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know where it came from.’
‘From me,’ he said. ‘A small gift to the bride from the groom. After all, a wedding night is a special occasion. I thought you should have something equally special to wear.’
‘Thank you.’ Her throat muscles felt tight. ‘I—I didn’t expect…I mean, I’m afraid I didn’t buy anything for you.’
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘For the record, I always sleep naked.’
She continued not to look at him. ‘I think that’s too much information.’ She tried to sound casual, but missed by miles. ‘And no, I don’t want to swim, thanks.’
‘Fine,’ Joel said equably. ‘I’ll add it to the list.’
‘What list?’
‘All the activities you’d prefer not to take part in.’ There was faint mockery in his tone. ‘Do you want to order dinner here, or go up to the hotel?’
‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘Well, I certainly am,’ he said. ‘So, why don’t we just settle for tomorrow’s breakfast?’ ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The fridge in the kitchen. Sometimes people have their reasons for not wishing to be disturbed in the mornings, but still need to eat at some point. A lot of honeymoon couples stay here. Therefore there’s always ham, eggs and stuff available.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, while I have my swim, why don’t you cook me some food, like a good wife should?’
She did look at him then, startled. ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’
‘I’d tread carefully, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Or it could turn into a hell of your own making.’ He paused. ‘I’ll have coffee too—strong and black. And two eggs, over easy. Sunny side up might be pushing it under the circumstances.’
He turned to go. ‘And shout loudly when it’s ready,’ he threw back at her over his shoulder. ‘When I’m alone, I tend not to wear anything in the pool either. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’
She watched him go, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She had indeed been warned, she thought. Alarm bells were sounding all over the place.
She took off her suit skirt and blouse, exchanging them for a knee-length blue skirt and a matching V-necked top, both cotton. She discarded her tights too, slipping her feet into heelless leather sandals.
The idea of waiting on Joel held no appeal, but under the circumstances she couldn’t afford to provoke him, she realised, heading reluctantly in the direction of the kitchen.
She filled the kettle and set it to boil, then put a large frying pan on the hob, letting it heat up before adding two thick slices of ham.
She’d fully intended allowing him to eat alone, as a kind of silent protest, but as the ham began to fry the smell made her mouth water, so she reluctantly capitulated and added an extra rasher to the pan for herself.
She put plates to warm, spooned an expensive brand of fresh coffee into the waiting cafetière, cut a bread stick into chunks, then took mats and cutlery through to the small round table in the living room.
Pride wouldn’t allow her to let the food burn, whatever the temptation, so the ham was golden brown, the eggs perfectly cooked and the coffee strong and aromatic. She nodded with satisfaction, then put her head back and yelled.
He appeared promptly, his dark hair glistening, and she took the seat opposite him, stone-faced.
‘This is better than terrific,’ Joel commented after his first appreciative mouthful. ‘Did you ever tell me you could cook?’
She kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Why else do you suppose I was on Drew Maidstone’s boat?’
‘I thought that was open to conjecture.’ His tone was dry.
‘You caught me once making a fool of myself,’ she said in a low voice. ‘That does not make me a universal slag.’
‘I caught you twice,’ he said. ‘But who’s counting?’ He paused. ‘One of these days or nights, you’ll have to tell me just what you see in Metcalfe.’
‘I see your cousin’s husband,’ Darcy said expressionlessly. ‘Is that enough for you?’
‘Yes,’ he said. Then added, ‘If it were true.’
And they finished the meal in silence.
Afterwards, Joel insisted on loading the dishwasher, a courtesy she could have happily foregone. The kitchen was too small to accommodate two people who weren’t on familiar terms, she thought, and she had constantly to flatten herself against the units to avoid brushing against him. Worse, she was sure that he was quite aware of her struggles and secretly amused by them.
Once the machine was loaded, there was little to do but follow him back into the living room. She sat down on one of the sofas, feeling as if she was on a knife-edge.
There was a brief silence, then, ‘It’s been quite a day,’ Joel said, stretching indolently, the movement emphasising the lithe toughness of his body. It occurred to her that without the formal armour of business clothes he was formidable indeed, and she felt her mouth dry suddenly. He smiled at her. ‘That early night I mentioned