indescribable.
Being here with Jack, she felt so terribly vulnerable and fragile.
He had the power to destroy her.
If she let him. If she let him into her heart, into her soul, into her very life.
It would be much simpler, much less damaging to her, if she kept him at a distance. If anything, the outburst by Elise Beacon today had forewarned Cassandra of how much she could still hurt. She wanted to ask Jack about that other woman, but now that they were alone, she was reluctant to bring it up and spoil their moment.
He turned around again, a smile lingering on his lips.
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he murmured.
Beautiful? Really? Her?
Her breath tripped in her throat. It was the first sensual thing any man had said to her since the fire. But...would Jack be terribly disappointed, as Troy had been, when they became more intimate? Not that she had ever slept with Troy, but their relationship had been physical enough on one occasion that it still brought shame to her cheeks. He’d partially disrobed her.
How could she have been so deceived into believing he had loved her?
Stop it , she told herself. This was nonsense, thinking like this when she had another man, a more honorable man, standing before her, trying to express some gentle words.
“You look very dashing in your suit. I had a lovely day.”
“It’s not over,” he said, and indicated that she should look around the room.
To their right, the dining table had been set with a lovely assortment of fine china, sparkling goblets and silverware. A feast was about to be consumed. Candles about to be lit.
Yet what she noticed most was that Jack had removed his hand from her back moments ago. A cold shadow, a phantom of his masculine touch, lay there instead.
“A toast to us?” He offered her the choice between a white chardonnay and a red pinot noir. “They’re both superb wines from the area.” They settled on the red, and he poured.
“It’s very nice,” she said, upon tasting it.
There was something very romantic, yet also very much missing, when the two of them sat down to eat, both in their wedding attire. Jack was attentive to her needs, serving her the finest cut of roast beef she’d ever tasted, potatoes pulled that day, green beans mixed with a walnut sauce, and savory desserts of raspberry custard and lime pie.
If they had been in love, the dinner might have been incredibly sentimental and romantic. Instead, without family and dear friends to share it, it seemed lonely. And awkward, with the two of them trying to pretend they were totally at ease with one another, that there was nothing but food on their minds, that they weren’t both thinking apprehensively of the wedding night ahead.
* * *
Jack was trapped in a primitive urge of desire as he led Cassandra up the winding staircase to his wing of rooms. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be anticipating a night with such a woman? She appeared so innocent and demure on the outside—always had—and that made him imagine all the more what lay beneath that shield of white lace and scrubbed skin.
There’d been some problems today at the ceremony that he needed to explain, but not now. The talk he wasn’t too thrilled about having with her could wait a bit longer.
“This way,” he said, leading her by candlelight to the far room with the best view of the valley. “Your luggage should be right inside.”
“There.” She spotted the bags on the right side of the bed—her side—and blushed.
Was there anything she didn’t blush at?
“I’ll show you to the bath.”
“You’ve arranged a hot bath?” She followed him into his private dressing room.
“Of course.”
“Well, then, you’ve thought of everything.”
The massive room was lined in oak cabinets and armoires. Clay tiles covered the floor, along with a colorful Oriental rug he’d purchased on the docks of San Francisco, coming in from Hong Kong. Matching tapestries clung to the high walls. A freestanding
Being here with Jack, she felt so terribly vulnerable and fragile.
He had the power to destroy her.
If she let him. If she let him into her heart, into her soul, into her very life.
It would be much simpler, much less damaging to her, if she kept him at a distance. If anything, the outburst by Elise Beacon today had forewarned Cassandra of how much she could still hurt. She wanted to ask Jack about that other woman, but now that they were alone, she was reluctant to bring it up and spoil their moment.
He turned around again, a smile lingering on his lips.
“You’re a very beautiful woman,” he murmured.
Beautiful? Really? Her?
Her breath tripped in her throat. It was the first sensual thing any man had said to her since the fire. But...would Jack be terribly disappointed, as Troy had been, when they became more intimate? Not that she had ever slept with Troy, but their relationship had been physical enough on one occasion that it still brought shame to her cheeks. He’d partially disrobed her.
How could she have been so deceived into believing he had loved her?
Stop it , she told herself. This was nonsense, thinking like this when she had another man, a more honorable man, standing before her, trying to express some gentle words.
“You look very dashing in your suit. I had a lovely day.”
“It’s not over,” he said, and indicated that she should look around the room.
To their right, the dining table had been set with a lovely assortment of fine china, sparkling goblets and silverware. A feast was about to be consumed. Candles about to be lit.
Yet what she noticed most was that Jack had removed his hand from her back moments ago. A cold shadow, a phantom of his masculine touch, lay there instead.
“A toast to us?” He offered her the choice between a white chardonnay and a red pinot noir. “They’re both superb wines from the area.” They settled on the red, and he poured.
“It’s very nice,” she said, upon tasting it.
There was something very romantic, yet also very much missing, when the two of them sat down to eat, both in their wedding attire. Jack was attentive to her needs, serving her the finest cut of roast beef she’d ever tasted, potatoes pulled that day, green beans mixed with a walnut sauce, and savory desserts of raspberry custard and lime pie.
If they had been in love, the dinner might have been incredibly sentimental and romantic. Instead, without family and dear friends to share it, it seemed lonely. And awkward, with the two of them trying to pretend they were totally at ease with one another, that there was nothing but food on their minds, that they weren’t both thinking apprehensively of the wedding night ahead.
* * *
Jack was trapped in a primitive urge of desire as he led Cassandra up the winding staircase to his wing of rooms. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be anticipating a night with such a woman? She appeared so innocent and demure on the outside—always had—and that made him imagine all the more what lay beneath that shield of white lace and scrubbed skin.
There’d been some problems today at the ceremony that he needed to explain, but not now. The talk he wasn’t too thrilled about having with her could wait a bit longer.
“This way,” he said, leading her by candlelight to the far room with the best view of the valley. “Your luggage should be right inside.”
“There.” She spotted the bags on the right side of the bed—her side—and blushed.
Was there anything she didn’t blush at?
“I’ll show you to the bath.”
“You’ve arranged a hot bath?” She followed him into his private dressing room.
“Of course.”
“Well, then, you’ve thought of everything.”
The massive room was lined in oak cabinets and armoires. Clay tiles covered the floor, along with a colorful Oriental rug he’d purchased on the docks of San Francisco, coming in from Hong Kong. Matching tapestries clung to the high walls. A freestanding
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