Page 69 of Return of the Viscount
What had she done?
She’d become his wife in truth, and any chance of invalidating the marriage was gone. Her emotions seemed all jumbled inside her as the memories of their night together overwhelmed her. She’d been like an animal, so desperately in need of him, she’d allowed him to do ... anything he wanted. It had felt good, no doubt about it, but that didn’t make such absolute baseness forgivable.
She moved the tiniest bit and could already feel a tenderness at the juncture of her thighs from his lovemaking. He’d been forceful and overpowering, and she’d wanted all of it. Even now, as she stared down at his hand against her breast, she could have pressed herself into him to feel it all over again.
She couldn’t be so close to him; she couldn’t want him this much, depend on him. He was leaving her, and she wasn’t going with him. She might be married, but it didn’t mean she would lose herself in him, or lose herself in sorrow when he left. She would go on as she had before, in control of her life and her emotions. She wouldn’t let herself love him or need him—he had to understand that.
But, of course, she needed his help to find whoever wanted to harm her.
But oh God, he felt so good against her, his body sinfully warm and alluring. She could have sunk into him, beneath him, and let all that rough masculinity consume her. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to slide toward the edge of the bed.
He caught her back against him, and she gasped.
“Good morning, wife,” he murmured into her ear.
She shivered at the rumbling of his voice, which seemed to echo through his ribs and into hers. His hand was no longer loose but cupped her breast firmly, playing with it, teasing it into a point that abraded his palm and made a surge of pleasure shoot all the way into the pit of her stomach. And then he slid his hand down her torso and between her thighs to boldly cup her.
She pushed him off her and vaulted from the bed, standing dazed and naked on the carpet. Where were the garments she’d so wantonly relinquished in her frenzy the night before?
Michael pushed himself up on one arm, his eyes full of admiration, the covers falling loosely about his waist. “You look exquisite with the morning sun bathing you in light.”
Without thinking about it, she crossed her arms over her breasts and groin. Laughing, he dropped back on the bed, arms wide, body arched as he seemed to stretch every muscle. She gaped at him, shocked at how much she enjoyed the sight of all the masculine beauty dominating her feminine bed.
He grinned at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. She couldn’t stop staring at his face either, the way his smile transformed her sober soldier into a lighthearted lover. Once again, she had the strangest feeling that only she had ever been privileged enough to see this satisfied, relaxed side of him. It made her feel all funny and melancholy and sweet inside, and she desperately ran for her dressing gown. Only when it was belted around her did she let out her breath and close her eyes.
She practically jumped a foot when she felt his arms close about her from behind.
“Come back to bed,” he urged.
“You’re naked!”
She tried to pull away, but he seemed to think it a game and only held her tighter.
“Naked and eager for you,” he replied.
“I can’t do this!” she cried.
He let her go, and she only briefly saw his happiness fade before she firmly turned her back.
“Please don your trousers. I can’t—I can’t talk when you’re like”—she waved her arm in his direction—“that!”
After a minute of rustling, he quietly said, “Very well, I’m decent. Now you can talk to me.”
She turned around to find him leaning on his cane, nude from the waist up. Briefly, she had a flash of memory of the terrible wound in his leg. But she couldn’t afford to feel any sympathy right now.
And she couldn’t keep looking at his impressive chest, full of muscles she couldn’t imagine having, tiny ripples of them leading down his stomach. She forced herself to bravely meet his eyes and not feel sadness at the lack of emotion there. Only moments ago, he’d been so happy, but she couldn’t let him think that was how their life would now be.
“I guess you have what you wanted, a legal marriage,” she said, trying to sound as impassive as he always could. “I know I initiated all of this.” She threw her arms wide. “But I would have ended it, and you pursued me.”
“You’re my wife. What did you expect me to do? I did notforceyou to make love with me last night.”
“I know,” she whispered, letting out her breath in a sigh. “I’m not blaming you.”
The tension in his shoulders eased, and he took several steps toward her. “Then why are you so upset?” he asked in a quieter voice.
“Because intimacy doesn’t change things between us! You need to know that. We can’t have a normal marriage. You’re going back to India, and I’m staying here.”
He inhaled. “After this, I thought you’d see we belong together. When Oliver reaches his maturity, you’ll be free of the estate. You could travel.”
