Page 11 of His Wedding Day Revenge

He could remember with shocking clarity looking at the individual freckles on her smooth pale shoulder and breathing in the scent of her hair as he smoothed it off her graceful neck before burying his face in the silky softness.

‘We are good together, cara. I can’t get enough of you.’

She had smiled when he’d flipped her onto her back and begun to make love to her again, slow and languid this time. There had been sadness in her eyes, but he had pretended not to see it, ignoring the tickle of guilt, which now seemed ironic considering how things had ended.

Hearing the criticism in his voice, she assumed that he was referring to her recent weight loss and shrugged. Jane didn’t find her jutting hip bones attractive or the sculpted prominence of her collarbones, so it was not really a surprise that he didn’t either, but then her life no longer involved being the person that Draco wanted her to be.

Not now.

There was a freedom in that, she told herself. It made her feel strong...made her like herself, and she was a mother now. She was very conscious that a mother owed it to their child to like themselves, not to pass on their insecurities, teach by example... She had read all the parenting bibles, usually before she fell into a sleep of utter exhaustion.

If only she had had such self-insight four years ago. She had refused to recognise the flaws in their relationship, how unequal, how unhealthy it had been, until she was distant from it, and even then not until the pain of what had felt like a grieving process had passed.

‘Actually I’m a perfectly healthy weight,’ she countered, her lips tight.

He blinked. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he snapped back, sounding impatient at her interpretation. ‘I meant...you...just seem...different...?’

‘Well, it would be more surprising if I wasn’t. It has been four years. You seem exactly the same,’ she added, not making it sound like a compliment.

‘I don’t have a family.’

She nodded, thinking of the procession of girlfriends he did have as she watched him dig one hand into the pocket of his tailored trousers and look around, his gaze landing and lingering on the toys.

CHAPTER THREE

DRACOGAVENOTHINGaway in his expression as he turned back to her and asked casually, ‘Is the baby’s father in the picture...?’

How long has he been in your life?

Is he the reason you walked out on me?

He couldn’t voice those addendums without acknowledging how much he wanted to know and that was something he could not, would not do.

It came so out of the blue that Jane had no time to control her reaction. Her hand went to her quivering lips as she shook her head, seemingly unable for several moments to speak without breaking down.

Her discomfort, her stress was palpable. He’d be lying if he said he was displeased to sense some trouble in paradise.

Was the man married?

Had he cheated?

Or had he just not wanted the responsibility of fatherhood? Draco wondered, indulging in some speculation as he conjured up a man who was a total loser.

‘Is it a joint-parenting situation?’ How did that work? He never really had understood, but he supposed if people were willing to compromise for the sake of their offspring... Personally he’d never been big on compromise.

Jane shook her head, not appearing to register the faint mockery in his voice. ‘Mattie’s father was brought up in the village,’ she said quietly. ‘He moved away then...he was a stonemason, a craftsman, an artisan. His little company was about to...’ Her voice trailed away.

Draco felt his jaw tighten in response to her reverential tone then belatedly picked up on the tense.

‘Was?’ he queried.

‘He died,’ she said, her voice as dark as the bleakest dark winter night.

Her hand was covering her mouth again, the mouth that he had loved, the mouth that had driven him crazy as she’d explored every inch of his body. No sex had ever been like what he had experienced with Jane.

It was that sex and the mortal blow she had delivered to his pride, not loss, that had made the months after she ran away the toughest he had ever known.

He had got through it, and part of the joy of being rich was that he answered to no one. So if you holed up in a cabin in Alaska for two months, no one asked you why. Not even the guests at the wedding and definitely not the photographer with the images of the fleeing bride, photos that were now in Draco’s possession.

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