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‘You were very kind,’ she said softly, her eyes limpid. She remembered every word he’d said, the way he’d folded her in his arms and comforted her. She would never forget. It had been then that she had fallen in love with him, the infatuation that had been her secret for the past two years changing into something so much deeper, so very permanent.
‘Yes, well,’ he said gruffly, ‘I’m not asking for plaudits, just reminding you that I have thought of you. As a sister, almost, like I said.’ He dragged in a breath. It was important to stress that aspect of their relationship. Now this was the tricky part. ‘Not in a sexual way at all. We both knew what we wanted from this marriage, and sex definitely wasn’t a part of it.’
Liar, he derided himself. What he most wanted, right now, was to take her to bed. But that would be a monumental mistake, and bad news for her because it wasn’t what she wanted, either. She would never have agreed to a paper marriage if she’d had any feelings for him in that direction.
‘Sex muddies things,’ he told her. ‘It gets in the way. It might be great while it lasts. But it doesn’t. Last, I mean. And neither of us wants that kind of messy complication in what could otherwise be a mutually advantageous partnership.’
He pushed his chair back from the table and levered himself to his feet. Beginning to sweat now. But he made sure he sounded kind, slightly amused, even, when he told her, ‘However, I am a fully functional male, and the way you’ve taken to dressing recently could lead to the type of complications neither of us wants. For our mutual peace of mind I suggest you dress as you used to. I’m sure you understand what I mean.’
Hell—he was coming over as a pompous, patronising nerd. And perhaps he’d put the whole thing badly. But it was said now and he needed to get out of here. Needed a cold shower. He hadn’t felt so out of control, so much at the mercy of his hormones since he’d been a randy teenager!
‘I’ll say goodnight,’ he muttered hoarsely and raced for the door.
Mattie stepped out of the little black slip dress Dawn had insisted was perfect for her and hung it carefully back in the wardrobe with all the other goodies.
If James had his way, she would never wear any of them. Part of her agreed with him. What she was doing was scary. And, if she were to be cruelly honest with herself, decidedly sneaky!
What was it Dawn had said? ‘What have you got to lose? Nothing. So go for it, girl, pull out all the stops. I told you you’d be gorgeous if you made the effort. And if James has seen you as the knock-out you really are, and you’re married, living together, then it doesn’t take a genius to know that sooner or later you’ll end up doing what comes naturally!’
Mattie sighed. It came right up from her toes. Dawn had said she had nothing to lose. But she had. She could lose his friendship, his respect. And she didn’t want him driven to the point of having sex with her—which was what the poor love had been warning her of over dinner tonight. She wanted him to fall in love with her, and that was very different.
An impossible mountain to climb. Hadn’t he told her, when he’d first proposed, that he didn’t believe in the condition?
Jumpy as a kitten on a bed of thistles, Mattie opted for a long soak in the bath instead of her usual quick shower. But it did nothing to relax her and she resigned herself to an uneasy night as she pulled her voluminous cotton nightie over her head, craving the comfort of the familiar and refusing, absolutely refusing, to put herself in any of the slinky satin and lace things that Dawn had insisted were de rigueur for a new bride.
Dawn. Had she made a huge mistake when she’d taken her old friend fully into her confidence, swearing her to absolute secrecy?
That night, only just over a week ago, she’d been convinced that the only sane thing to do was to tell James she couldn’t marry him. But the look of totally unprecedented, blatant male appreciation in his eyes had put her on such a high that she’d done no such thing, as certain as she could possibly have been that, given time, their marriage could become a real one. That, for him, love could grow from such a beginning.
The following morning her mood had swung the other way entirely, helped by the fact that he must have left well before she’d come downstairs to make him breakfast. Just a note in his bold, distinctive hand, left on the kitchen table: “Matts, pack all the gear you don’t need for the coming week. I’ll send someone round to pick it up on Wednesday and transfer it to Belgravia. Speak to you soon.”
He hadn’t even hung around long enough to say good morning! His interest in her went no further than the convenience of having a quiet, unobtrusive wife in the background to ward off female predators.
If the gorgeous creatures who had sashayed through his life with monotonous regularity—culminating in the top-drawer Fiona Campbell-Blair—hadn’t been able to win his love, what hope did she have?
The look she’d seen in his eyes the night before had not been appreciation; how could it have been? Surprise that she was actually wearing something that fitted her, was colourful and suited her for once in her life was much nearer the mark.
Confused, not knowing which way to jump, she’d phoned Dawn and told all. Only to receive the advice she was now acting on.
Bad advice, she thought mournfully. She shouldn’t have listened. When she’d finally come to her senses she sho
uld have acted on what her own brain was telling her, not gone whining to Dawn whose eternal optimism bordered on the insane!
She should have extricated herself from this mess when she’d had the opportunity, not allowed herself to hope, because hope was getting her nowhere, just earning herself a warning-off from a man who didn’t want to find himself wanting sex with her!
Sex wasn’t what she wanted, either. Well, she did—of course she did. With him. He was the only man who had ever made her feel like this. But not sex without love, because it would be meaningless—demeaning, really, if he didn’t love her.
And he didn’t.
Mattie thumped the pillow in a sudden excess of temper, then sagged back weakly, tears springing to her eyes. This was just going round in circles. She’d made her bed and was going to have to lie in it. The trouble was, she didn’t know how on earth she was going to manage it.
CHAPTER FIVE
MATTIE slept in until just gone ten, partly because she hadn’t fallen asleep until the early hours and then only managed fitful snatches and partly because she didn’t want to have to face James—not after last night which, with hindsight, was deeply embarrassing.
But, confident that he would have already left for his office in the City, she pulled her cosy old quilted robe over her bunchy cotton nightie and wandered, bleary-eyed, to the kitchen in search of several cups of strong black coffee to get her kick-started.
‘So there you are, madam!’ Mrs Briggs’ smile was warmly approving. ‘I’ll bring the breakfast through right away, shall I? Mr James is in the study; perhaps you would tell him?’
