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When he moved up to claim her mouth again, his hand molded and squeezed her breast, and she met him greedily.
Sawyer made her feel. She was almost afraid of how much and what he made her feel.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t part of their agreement.
She made a monumental effort to summon the will to resist.
At that very moment, however, as if Sawyer could read her mind, he drew back.
Sawyer’s eyes glittered down at her, and she swallowed, clutching her open blouse with one hand.
He rubbed her lower lip with his thumb. “You look as if you’ve been thoroughly kissed.”
“Thanks to you,” she replied.
She had meant it as an accusation, but Sawyer just gave her a slow, satisfied smile.
“Thanks to me,” he agreed, his voice still rough with arousal. “No one will doubt we’re anything but lovers on the eve of being newlyweds.”
The reminder of the status of their relationship—if it indeed could be called that—was the last jolt she needed to free herself from their sexual interlude.
“I’ll meet you outside,” she said tightly.
As she stalked from the room, she could feel Sawyer’s gaze on her.
Damn him. How could she call him on his game of seduction when he kept claiming it was no more than that—a game?
Nine
Sawyer stood at the altar waiting for the bride.
He’d started on this road as a means to acquiring Kincaid News. But somewhere along the way, acquiring—no, possessing—Tamara had begun to consume his thoughts.
He wanted her. In his bed. Under him. Moaning, just as she had in his study yesterday before they’d gone horseback riding.
He’d discovered she rode a horse well. Like a bike, she’d said. You never forget. These days, he was finding her fairly unforgettable, too.
Damn.
His cutaway morning coat wasn’t structured to conceal an arousal. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be giving the guests in the pews an eyeful.
So far, he had been able to use the excuse of acting like an engaged, albeit not necessarily in love, couple as cover for his real and increasing need to seduce her—a need, he admitted, that he had increasing trouble remembering was tied to his bargain with Kincaid.
The church organ struck up, and a hushed silence fell over the guests. All eyes went to the doors at the back, which swung open to reveal Tamara on the arm of her father.
Sawyer drew in a breath at the sight of her as she started toward him.
She looked magnificent. Her vivid hair was piled up in an elaborate knot, and a delicate diamond tiara, one of the Kincaid family heirlooms, nestled there, matching the diamonds at her ears. Her dress was a strapless ivory lace confection with a full skirt. Gauzy material wrapped around her shoulders like a shrug and tucked into her bodice.
But it was her face that enthralled him. Classical beauty defined her features, her green eyes captivating beneath arched brows, her lips pink and glossy, inviting his kiss.
Sawyer sent a silent apology to the minister standing next to him, because all he wanted at that moment was to pick Tamara up, stride back down the aisle and ravish her.
Instead, he waited patiently until Tamara reached him and Viscount Kincaid kissed her cheek.
Once she put aside her bouquet of tightly-packed roses, he took her hand, claiming her.
He felt a tremor go through her and glanced her way, but her alabaster profile remained composed.
He barely registered the voice of the minister. “We are gathered together…”
He kept Tamara’s hand in his, feeling the vital flow of life between them.
The minister led them in their vows, the same ones used in royal weddings. Sawyer felt his eyes crinkle when Tamara delicately repeated “to love and to cherish” and omitted “obey.”
For his part, he intended to love and cherish her—in the full physical sense and as soon as possible. In that way, his vows couldn’t be more real.
When it was time for the exchange of rings, he produced a filigreed wedding band of platinum and diamonds and slipped it on her finger. There it joined the diamond engagement ring that he’d given her.
He was glad to see Tamara’s lips curve into a faint smile as she looked at the new ring on her finger. He’d debated long and hard before selecting the wedding ring at longstanding Langsford family jewelers Boodle & Dunthorne. He’d wanted a ring that fit Tamara’s fashion-forward sense and was impressive enough for the new Countess of Melton. From the look on Tamara’s face, he’d made the right choice.
Moments later, Tamara slipped a wedding ring on his finger—the plain platinum band with small grooved edges that he’d ordered.
When it was time to kiss the bride, he settled his lips on hers with satisfaction, letting her glimpse his simmering passion and feel the promise of more.
He was joined to Tamara now, and somehow it didn’t feel just like a means to an end. Except, of course, if that end was the wedding night.
Tamara sipped her champagne, adjusting to the weight of two magnificent rings on her finger—and adjusting to the enormity of what she’d just done.
Married to Sawyer. She was now the Countess of Melton.
She was seated among the seventy-odd invited guests in the main dining room of Gantswood Hall, where the traditional wedding breakfast was taking place.
Thankfully, she thought, glancing around, this whole affair would soon be over. Pia was ignoring the Duke of Hawkshire, and Belinda and Colin sat like two combatants at an impasse. The remaining wedding guests and a roving photographer were convenient buffers.
In fact, the only person who appeared in the best of spirits was her father.
As if on a cue from her thoughts, Viscount Kincaid pushed back his chair and stood.
“A toast,” her father announced, raising his glass.
Tamara nearly groaned aloud, and everyone else dutifully reached for their glasses.
This, Tamara thought, was destined to be her life if she stayed married to Sawyer. There were all sorts of issues of protocol, precedence and etiquette that she would need to be aware of. She would need to conform to certain rules after years of priding herself on being a nonconformist.
True, she’d enjoyed her horseback ride yesterday. True, she found Sawyer’s kisses more potent than any other man’s. But they were all wrong for each other.
She pulled her mind back, realizing her father was looking at her, for once in her life, with approval.
“To Tamara, my dear daughter, and Sawyer, whom I proudly welcome as my son-in-law,” her father said. “May your marriage be long and fruitful.”
