Innocent Cinderella: His Untamed Innocent / Penniless and Purchased / Her Last Night of Innocence. Julia JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
held her for a long moment. He said softly, ‘Goodnight, Marin. Sleep well.’
He let his gaze rest on her parted lips, then after an almost palpable hesitation stepped back, turning in the direction of his own room.
Motionless, she watched him go, heard the click as the door closed behind him, lifted a hand to touch the mouth she’d thought he was about to kiss. Knowing how much she’d wanted him to do precisely that.
Wondering if he’d known too—had guessed somehow—and decided to let her down lightly with his refusal.
And, if that was indeed so, trying quite desperately to feel grateful.
She spent a restless night, her sleep interspersed with fitful dreams, and woke all too early in a bed that looked as if it had been hit by a cyclone. She then had to decide whether to get up and re-make it, or simply get up. And, feeling hot, sticky and frazzled, she went for the latter option.
She trod over to the window and knelt on the seat, resting her forehead against the coolness of the glass. Everything was still, the sky a hazy blue, the sun already gathering strength.
A walk in the garden, she thought. Peace and quiet to bolster her for the day ahead, and the storm clouds hovering not far away which had nothing to do with the weather.
She showered swiftly, then dressed with equal speed in a pair of white linen cropped trousers, and a dark blue sleeveless top, keeping one eye on the communicating door as if expecting it to open at any moment. Which was ridiculous, bordering on paranoid, when it was still as firmly closed as it had been when Jake had left her the previous night.
I have to start trusting him, she thought as she brushed her hair, then paused, wondering uneasily if it could possibly be herself she didn’t trust as she remembered vague but embarrassing fragments of last night’s dreams.
But she couldn’t afford that kind of speculation. She had to think of the money, and only of the money she reminded herself as she made her way downstairs. If she concentrated on that and nothing else, in another twenty-four hours all this would be over and her life would be back under her own exclusive control once again.
As she reached the ground floor, the chink of crockery from the dining room and a murmur of voices indicated that the staff were already busy preparing for breakfast. The drawing room was deserted, however, the French windows standing wide open to air the room, and she slipped out noiselessly on to the terrace and went down the broad steps.
The lawn was damp with early dew, and the air had a clarity and freshness not discernible in the house.
Marin knew where the pool was, because Clare Dawson had been talking regretfully before dinner last night about the herb garden that had been destroyed to make way for it by Graham’s first wife. She followed the path down to a high brick wall and pushed open the wrought iron gate.
As she walked in, a bird rose from one of the climbing roses growing round the enclosing walls and flew away with a trill of warning, leaving only silence.
Whatever the charms of the herb garden might have been, Marin felt as she looked around her that the first Mrs Halsay had made a good job of the conversion. There was a wooden changing pavilion painted pale yellow at one end, while wrought iron tables with cushioned chairs and parasols in pastel colours that matched the roses were set in groups round the pool.
She stood for a long moment, eyes half-closed, breathing the scent of the flowers in the warm, still air. Then she moved across the flagstones to the side of the pool and knelt, dabbling an exploratory hand in the turquoise water.
‘Trying to get some secret practice, Miss Wade?’ Diana Halsay’s voice made her start.
Mentally cursing the premature loss of her solitude, and its cause, Marin got to her feet and turned to face her hostess who was standing a couple of yards away, glossy in grey linen trousers and a matching silky top.
She said composedly, ‘Just testing the waters, Mrs Halsay.’
‘You’re certainly an early riser,’ Diana commented. ‘Fresh as a rose too. You’ve really impressed my husband. He was saying last night that you were what the French call “belle-laide”. Not strictly a beauty, but with an odd kind of attraction just the same.’
‘How very flattering.’ Marin lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t know I warranted being a topic of conversation.’
Diana gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Oh, come on, sweetie. Not even you can be that naïve. But understand this. Whatever game you’re playing with Jake isn’t fooling anyone, except perhaps poor old Graham, who thinks you’re a really nice girl.’
Marin said tautly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There is no game.’
‘I hope not.’ Diana’s smile did not reach her eyes. ‘Because I promise that you’re in a strictly no-win situation.’
‘Trying to undermine the opposition, Diana?’ Jake asked from the gateway. ‘Isn’t that against the rules?’ He walked over to Marin, put a hand under her chin and bent to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘You were missing when I woke up,’ he said softly. ‘That’s not allowed, either.’
‘One of the things we always had in common, darling,’ said Diana. ‘We both made our own rules and changed them whenever we wished. Maybe we should all remember that.’ She added, ‘Breakfast is being served—if either of you are interested.’
And, on that, she sauntered to the gate and disappeared, leaving them alone together.
JAKE’S HAND WAS still clasping Marin’s chin as he looked down into her eyes.
He said quietly, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course.’ She freed herself, stepping back. ‘How did you know where I was?’
‘I saw you from the bedroom, crossing the lawn. I wanted to talk to you anyway, but then I saw Diana following you and decided to hurry.’
She said stiltedly, ‘She doesn’t believe it. That we’re involved—having an affair.’
‘Did she say so?’
She looked past him. ‘Pretty much.’
‘Then we’ll have to try to be more convincing.’ He nodded at a wooden bench set against the wall. ‘Shall we sit down?’
She hesitated. ‘Shouldn’t we go back for breakfast?’
‘There’s plenty of time. Besides, we do need to talk, and this seems relatively neutral territory.’
‘Talk about what?’ she asked as she reluctantly took a seat beside him.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe explore the vast uncharted wastes of all the things we still don’t know about each other. I wouldn’t want to be caught out again by something like the house in Portugal.’
‘That’s hardly likely.’ She stared down at the flagstones. ‘Besides, I think we know enough to get us through the next twenty-four hours.’
‘After which?’
‘After which we revert to being strangers,’ Marin returned, ignoring the sudden thump of her heart. ‘Getting on with our very separate lives,’ she added with emphasis.
‘Well, there we differ,’ he said softly. ‘Because I think the mutual learning-process has just begun. And that our lives are going to be far from separate.’
Her glance was wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re currently occupying my property,’ he reminded her, his voice silky. ‘You must admit that creates a connection.’
‘If so, it’s a temporary one that I’m anxious to cut as soon as possible,’