The Right Bride? (46 page)

Well, one sleepless night would not hurt him, argued her other self. He would probably have backache for a week, but…The chair creaked again as he attempted again to silently adjust his position.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she found she was erupting. ‘Bring your pillow and that quilt over here and get on top of the bed! Feet my way up!’ she ordered as an afterthought, and shunted over so he should have ample room.

She heard him move, and wished she had kept quiet, and was not at all appeased when, his voice near, ‘For you, I bought a pair of pyjamas,’ he informed her.

‘I don’t care if you’re wearing a suit of armour!’ she snapped. ‘You’re still sleeping with your feet my way up.’

She heard his low laugh and could not deny that all at once there was a bubble of laughter in her too. Sternly, she repressed it. Then felt the bed go down. Silas, sleeping his head to her toes, had joined her.

Though what sleep he got she did not know. For herself she was so overly conscious of him next to her she just could not sleep. He was so near, so dear—oh, think of something else, do.

Somewhere around dawn she felt him leave the bed. Either he was an early riser or he could not sleep either. She guessed it was the former. She heard the bathroom door close and surmised he was ready to shower and dress and start his day.

She closed her eyes and at last managed to get some sleep. But she did not sleep for too long; some inbuilt ‘manners’ alarm was there to remind her that she was a guest and that guests had certain duties. One of which was not to be late should breakfast be being served at some rigid time.

She sat up, hugging the sheet and blanket to her as she took
a tentative look around. She relaxed. As she had supposed, Silas was up and out. Following suit, she slipped the fallen narrow shoulder-strap of her nightdress back in place and left the bed ready to take a shower.

She headed for the bathroom, wondering at what time they would leave. If—She opened the bathroom door and her thoughts, her body, everything, became motionless. She stared stunned, immobile. She had thought—no, not even thought, had just been certain that Silas had vacated the bathroom ages ago. She had thought she had been asleep for an hour or so—but realised that she could not have been asleep anywhere near that long, that her only sleep must have been the briefest of catnaps. Because the bathroom was not empty. Silas was in there. And—he was stark naked!

He was sideways on to her, half turned from her as he stood before the large mirror, having obviously just finished shaving. He had turned his head as the bathroom door opened, and simultaneously her yelp of ‘Ooh!’ had rent the air as her stunned glance took in his long length of leg, the wellmuscled thigh, his right buttock, not to mention part of his broad naked back.

Then her eyes met his and scorching colour seared her skin. She was unsure who moved first, but, not lingering to have a debate about it, Colly found release from her rooted immobility and spun urgently about.

She had taken a couple of steps back into the bedroom but had still not got her head together, being unsure what to do—whether to take a dive back under the bedcovers or, totally unnerved as she was, what.

She stood there, crimson, striving hard to tell herself not to make an issue of it, that Silas was more sinned against than sinning. As far as he had been concerned she was fast asleep; the last thing he’d expected was that she would barge in and invade his privacy.

Then she heard him come and stand behind her. ‘This gets worse!’ she uttered croakily.

‘I didn’t think I looked so very dreadful stripped off,’ Silas answered, plainly endeavouring to make light of it. But she could find no humour in the situation.

‘Don’t!’ she said huskily. ‘I didn’t know you were in there!’ she explained hurriedly. And she did not know just where she was when from behind his arms came around to the front of her in a loose hold. She glanced jerkily down and was overwhelmingly relieved to see from his silk-clad arms that he must have hastily donned a robe. ‘I thought you’d showered and gone.’

‘I rather think I know that,’ he said to the top of her head. And, taking the blame totally on himself, ‘Last time I looked you were sound away. But even so, bearing in mind that there’s no lock on the bathroom door, I should have hung a note on the handle or something.’

‘It—doesn’t matter,’ she replied.

His arms firmed a little around her. She was not sure that he did not drop a light kiss to the top of her head. Wishful thinking, she realised, and also realised all at once that she was clad in a thin shortie nightdress, and that, since she could feel the heat of his body, possibly all Silas had on was the fine silk robe.

She went to move away but his arms held her, and in all honesty she would by far prefer to stay just where she was. Soon they would be back in London, her closeness with him over; she needed these moments to treasure.

‘You’ve been brilliant, Colly,’ Silas said softly, bending to her ear. ‘Just a few more hours,’ he promised, ‘and then we can say goodbye to the weekend.’

Just a few more hours! She wanted to stay like this for ever. ‘I never wanted to make a fuss,’ she replied, and whether he went to give her a bit of a hug or if she was just obeying
some compulsion she could not have said—but Colly moved and leaned back against him.

He did not push her away from him, and the side of his face was almost touching the side of her face. ‘You’ve been wonderful,’ he applauded her.

Oh, help her, she was starting to feel all wobbly. She strove for levity. ‘Is that what you say to all the girls after you’ve slept with them?’ she asked with a light laugh.

He turned her then. His hands coming to her arms, he turned her to face him. ‘You’re special,’ he replied, his own tone light.

Colly smiled, recalling the time when she had queried whether, married to her, he might want to marry someone else. She’d have to be more than a little extra-special, he had replied. ‘Careful,’ she warned. ‘When you get to “extra-special” I’m bailing out.’

For answer Silas stared down at her, his dark blue eyes fixed on her green ones. And for ageless moments they just seem to stare wordlessly at each other. Then suddenly she felt him drawing her that little bit closer.

She thought it might be a good idea to resist. Only then his lips were over hers, gently over hers, warm over hers, and she had no hope of resisting him. She loved him. Why should she resist?

He broke his kiss. She tried to find her voice. But her brain seemed word-starved, and all she could think to say was a shy ‘Good morning.’

He laughed. ‘Good morning, wife,’ he said, and seemed to so enjoy calling her his wife that any logic that tried to penetrate, to tell her nonsense, just did not stand a chance of getting through.

‘You’ve got a very nice mouth, Mr Livingstone,’ she thought to mention.

‘You have my permission to kiss it, should its niceness become too much for you,’ he suggested.

Logic at that point tried to get a toe-hold—this was not the way this weekend was supposed to go. But logic was a cold bedfellow, and she would much rather take her husband up on his offer.

Of their own volition her arms went round him. She felt his warmth, the cleanness of him. And she just had to kiss him. She stretched up invitingly. Obligingly he bent down, and responded fully.

They broke apart. Feeling a little breathless, she stared at him. ‘I…’ she said, but could not go on. Because what she wanted to tell him was that she loved him—and whatever else her mixed-up brain patterns were confusing her with, she somehow knew that to tell him that would be the height of folly.

‘You…?’ he prompted, his wonderful mouth quirking upwards at the corners.

‘I—um—think I’m feeling a touch confused,’ she confessed.

He smiled gently at her, as if understanding. ‘Would another kiss help, do you suppose?’

He had to be joking! It was those kisses that were partly responsible! But, even though she must refuse his most tempting offer, she was finding she just could not. ‘I shouldn’t like you to think me greedy,’ she murmured—and said no more.

How could she? Silas had drawn her to him again. Held fast against his heart, Colly was no longer thinking but was feeling, enjoying, and in utter seventh heaven as the man she loved with her whole heart kissed her not once but many times.

And she adored his kisses, returned his kisses without restraint. Adored the way his fingers strayed through her long dark hair, the way his hands cupped her face. The way he transferred his hand to hold her in his arms.

‘Silas!’ She murmured his name when somehow, and she
had no clue how she had got there, all at once she found she was against a wall and Silas was leaning to her.

‘You’re…?’ he began, his voice all kind of gravelly. ‘I’m not alarming you?’ he rephrased.

‘Do you want me?’ she asked huskily.

‘Oh, sweet, innocent love,’ he murmured, to thrill her. And, with a smile, ‘Yes, I think you could say that,’ he breathed, and as they moulded together so, wide-eyed, she stared at him.

‘Oh!’ she gasped.

‘I’m—worrying you?’ he asked, pulling back.

She shook her head. ‘It’s just I—um—think my—education in certain matters has just gone up another notch.’ And as he grinned, seeming delighted with her, she wanted again to feel his wanting body against her, and pushed her wanting body against him.

‘Colly!’ he breathed, and kissed her, and it was such a kiss that she knew then that she was leaving the nursery slopes of lovemaking.

‘Oh, Silas!’ she cried, and wound her arms about him, loving every movement, every whispered kiss, as he traced tender kisses down the side of her throat, his hands caressing her all but naked shoulders.

She held on to him when, with one hand holding her close, his other hand caressed round to capture one of her breasts. A fire of such longing was leaping within her—she wanted more.

‘Oh!’ she sighed, as his sensitive fingers played and teased at the hardened tip of her breast. And again, ‘Oh!’ she cried, on a wanting kind of sound, when he bent his head and through the thin material of her nightdress gently pressed his lips to her breast, before once more claiming her lips.

Silas kissed her with long, slow, wonderful kisses, and his hands strayed behind her, to hold and caress her back, her waist, her buttocks.

When his searching hands found their way beneath her
nightdress, and those warm caressing fingers touched her naked buttocks, and he intimately pulled her to him, Colly thought she would faint.

She kissed him because she needed to. But her nightdress was all at once a hindrance. ‘Do we need this?’ Silas asked softly, his fingers on the thin cotton, her only covering.

And belatedly modesty—she could only afterwards suppose because she was as near naked as made no difference—suddenly woke up with a vengeance.

‘No—I mean, yes.’

She did not know what she meant, other than that the idea of standing totally unclothed before him was completely alien to her—she just could not do it. This was all new ground to her, and love him quite desperately though she did, want him quite desperately as she did, there was just something in her that screamed out no. Perhaps it was something in her upbringing, some shyness at being the way she was with a man for the first time in her life. She just did not know.

But, ‘No, I can’t,’ she said, panicking, swallowing hard, the idea of standing naked in front of Silas an entire anathema to her.

Silas, his skin slightly flushed—so she guessed her own face must be on fire—stared disbelievingly at her. ‘You don’t want to make love with me?’ he questioned throatily, his hands falling away as he put some space between their two bodies, his eyes searching hers as he stepped back.

She did not mean that at all! Her whole body was throbbing with her need for him. But suddenly, despite the intimacy they had been sharing, and maybe because Silas had stepped back and was no longer touching her, she all at once hit a hard impenetrable wall of that belated and unwanted modesty. She just could not find the words to tell him, Yes, I need you, yes, I want you, please take me.

Dumbly she shook her head. Confusion? She was drowning in it. So why did her voice sound so composed, so apart,
when, after taking a step to one side, ‘Had you finished with the bathroom?’ she heard a female stranger enquire.

She risked a glance at Silas. He was looking as if he could not believe it either. But there was no way he was going to force himself on her. He took another step away from her. ‘My stars, you’re a cool one!’ he gritted.

Cool? If only he knew. ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I?’ the female stranger asked. Colly went while she could, lest she should throw her arms around him and beg him to understand that no man had ever seen her naked, that while she was not ashamed of her body she seemed to have a hang-up about nudity.

They were silent on the journey back to London. Colly had plenty to think about, and Silas appeared to have much on his mind. Work, most likely, she assumed, quite certain that a man of his sophistication would not bother to dwell on what had happened between them.

She did not want to dwell on it either. She had stayed in the bathroom for a positive age after she had left him. He had not stayed around, though, and hadn’t been in the bedroom when she’d eventually gone in. What, after all, had there been to stay around for? They had shared a few heady moments—
heady
—understatement of the year—but he had not tried to stop her when, misunderstanding her, ‘No, I can’t,’ he had let her go.

Something she realised he must now be more than pleased about. He had not the smallest wish to cement their marriage, and was probably at this very moment thanking his lucky stars that when desire had sparked, though he had initially only meant to comfort her, she—so he had thought—had called a halt.

Well, she was glad too, she thought sniffily, because to make love with each other just was not in their contract. Oh, stop thinking about it, do.

‘Are you all right?’ The terse question cut through the strained atmosphere in the car.

Big of him to ask! No, she was not all right. Far from it. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she enquired, her voice proudly offhand.