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‘I know,’ she managed, waving a hand dismissively in front of her face so she didn’t have to look into his. ‘But it’s fine. No consequences, no ties. We both had…’ her voice hiccupped on the word ‘…fun, and that was that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower. And you…’
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. She was sure the pointed way she glanced towards the door did that for her.
On her way to the bathroom, still with the sheet trailing behind her, she passed the case with the clothes she had packed for her honeymoon. Unable to bear the thought of putting back on the clothes that Raoul had torn from her so ardently, she dropped them on to the floor and snatched up the first items from the top of the case to take them with her into the en suite. Turning on the shower with a force that had the water pouring down, she didn’t even wait for it to warm up before she stood underneath the torrent, letting it pound down on top of her head. The force of it deafened her ears and numbed her thoughts, bringing on a much-needed state of oblivion.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE WANTED A SHOWER.
Raoul could only stand and stare at the door that Imogen had so forcefully shut behind her. The sound of the shower running seemed like a physical barrier she’d erected between them, cutting her off from him as effectively as the solid wood of the door. Whatever else he’d expected, it had not been that. She wanted to wash away every trace of his touch, his kiss, his possession. It made him feel terrible, vile and dirty. As if he had tainted her, when all the time he had…
He had what? It slapped him hard in the face, shaking up his thought processes, leaving him blinking in confusion and shock.
He had wanted to comfort her.
Comfort? How could he feel that towards the woman who had destroyed his child? And how could he be fool enough to have made love to her without any form of protection—no matter how much she assured him that all would be well? How could he risk fathering another child with her when he had no confidence that it wouldn’t meet the same fate?
No. That was never going to happen, and there was one way he could make sure of it. The memory of the way she had looked walking across the room, the sheet trailing behind her like the train of a wedding dress, was all the confirmation he needed.
He was standing beside the window, watching the first faint glimmers of the dawn touch the sky, when the sound of the shower ceased. A few minutes later the bathroom door opened and Imogen came back into the room. Her dark hair was wrapped up in a towel turban-style on the top of her head, her feet were bare and she wore a turquoise and white dress that reminded him of the one she had been wearing on that first day on Corsica where he had glimpsed her across the bar and had never been able to look away again.
‘You’re still here!’
It was obvious that didn’t please her. Her voice was tart and her brows drew together in a frown.
‘I told you I was never very good at taking orders.’
‘I didn’t order…’
‘You think not? So what was that deliberate stare, the nod of the head towards the door?’
She plonked herself down on the bed, tugging the towel loose and rubbing at her wet hair.
‘I thought you’d want to go—you got what you wanted. And, as you said, it was fun.’
‘You were the one who said that,’ he pointed out. ‘I didn’t even agree with you.’
The hands that were rubbing at her hair stilled, and he could see she was looking up at him, peering through the black strands.
‘Don’t lie to me, Raoul!’
‘Why should it be a lie? I can assure you that, for me, it wasn’t fun.’
So how did she take that? Imogen asked herself, thankful for the concealing curtain of hair that hid the confusion and pain she knew must show in her face. He sounded so serious, her heart twisted in apprehension.
‘Just a one-night stand…’ she tried and felt the constriction in her chest tighten as she saw that proud dark head move in adamant denial.
Turning, he gestured to where the beautiful lace dress hung from the top of the wardrobe, shrouded in its cotton covering.
‘You would have looked beautiful in that.’
