The Faithful Wife by Diana Hamilton Page B

beautiful as she was. ‘And it’s Jake. And you’re gorgeous. And dinner—you will join us?’
    She gave no direct answer. ‘You’ve been watching me. Since you arrived with Alex you’ve been watching me.’
    A simple statement of fact. Yet it made his heart lilt. Apart from that brief moment when their eyes had locked she had, to all appearances, concentrated all her attention on Maclaine. But appearances were deceptive, because she’d been aware of him, aware of the way he’d been watching her, mesmerised. Aware. Of him. Maclaine might be her lover, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cut him out!
    â€˜Guilty. But, looking the way you do, you must take the blame.’
    Suddenly her poise fell away. Her head drooped forward and soft tendrils of the artfully piled lustrous, midnight-dark hair gently moved against the pale, fragile neck, awakening in him a deep, atavistic desire to protect.
    It was then he knew. Knew without a shadow of doubt that he wanted to possess this woman in every way there was. Take her, hold her, care for her. Make her his, and only his.
    Marry her.
    If marriage had ever crossed his mind it had been as something to be thought about some time in the distant future. When the future was safe, secure. When he was sure—sure that what he had to offer was solid and firm, couldn’t be blown away by the cruel winds of chance that destroyed home and family in their backlash. As he had seen his home and family virtually destroyed by his father’s obsessive and disastrously unsuccessful gambling on the world money markets.
    But she had driven all that caution out of his head.
    â€˜You will join us.’ He made it a statement, as if there could be no question about the way their relationship would begin and develop. He didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until she suddenly raised her head, the brilliance of her eyes, her smile, stunning him.
    â€˜You’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse.’ Mischief silvered her eyes with dancing starlight. ‘I’m dying to meet your sister!’
    Then, just as quickly, her smile faded and her eyes became thoughtful, as if she was wondering what it was that had made her accept his invitation. With a minimal shrug of exquisite shoulders she turned to murmur her excuses to Maclaine, and Jake knew then—precisely then—that she was his...
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    Bella and Kitty had got along famously; dinner had been an unqualified success. Even if Bella had given her attention almost exclusively to the younger girl he had been content to watch and wait, knowing by the heightened colour that had glowed along her perfect cheekbones, the way she’d immediately veiled her eyes if they encountered his, that she’d been just as aware of the sizzling sexual tension as he was.
    Leaving her at the mews apartment she’d shared with her younger sister, he had taken her acceptance of his offer to give her lunch the next day for granted. He’d rescheduled his Dubai meetings and had set out to win what he’d already considered his.
    They’d been married eight weeks later. He had claimed the woman he’d been born to love, promising to keep her unto him until death did them part...
    So much for promises, for dreams. Pain pushed at him. He pushed it away. He’d already spent too long on the rack of jealousy, so why prolong the agony? His face set, he raked out the dying embers and went slowly upstairs. - Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
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    Still sleepless, Bella heard his feet on the uncarpeted stairs and stared into the darkness, wide-eyed, holding her breath.
    But the footsteps passed her door, and she curled herself on her side and cried herself to sleep. Because she had wanted him to come to her, to make love to her for one last time, to give her a final memory she could live with.
    The memory she did have, of the single, blistering word he’d used before