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That smile transformed his almost frighteningly strong features, revealing the compassion and the caring that very few people suspected him capable of, the side of him that had transformed the fantasy of her young love into something rock-solid and enduring.
She gulped miserably. Everything would be so much easier if he treated her like a stranger who happened to be living under his roof. Perhaps she should open her mouth and tell him as much.
But he said, leaning back in his chair now, watching her, ‘I can’t tell you what you should or should not wear, Matts, you have a perfect right to show yourself off as the gorgeous, striking, sexy woman that you are.’
Again that smile, accompanied by a minimal shrug of wide shoulders. ‘Forget what I said last night. Forget what you perceive my reputation to be. I don’t have uncontrollable
urges to leap on every beautiful woman I see! You’re quite safe from unwanted attentions,’ he added a touch dryly.
‘Oh!’ For the moment she could think of no other response, her brain was whirling too fast to make the stringing together of words that made logical sense an impossibility.
Gorgeous, sexy, striking—his words beat at her mind. Did he really, truly think that? But safe. From unwanted attentions. He could take her or leave her, was that what he was implying? But if she told him his attentions were wanted, would he—?
‘Oh!’ she said again. Swallowed her coffee, gathered herself, dragged in a breath deep enough to swell her lungs to bursting point and decided to come clean, to put things straight. ‘Look, designer gear isn’t really my style. Quite honestly, I don’t much care what I wear. When Dawn suggested I had a make-over, I objected at first. But then I decided to go for it. I wondered if it was possible to—’ she shot him an agonised glance, revealing past pain ‘—to look presentable; not pretty, I knew I could never be that. But more—female. That was something I’d given up on, you see.’
‘Since when?’ The silver eyes were kind now, the long years of brotherly friendship there. Not veiled with amusement, either, the shimmer of laughter that had been there when viewing her ham-fisted attempts to master anything vaguely practical.
She took heart. He was her friend, above all else he was that. She had always been able to talk to him. She could confide in him now.
‘Since I was a scrawny, plain little thing with gingery hair and what I was told was a permanent scowl,’ she answered. ‘My mother despaired, poor thing. She wanted a cute, cuddly daughter and she got me instead. Then Liam was born. He was a beautiful baby, blond, blue-eyed, cute dimples, a heart-wrenching smile. I can imagine her sigh of relief when she gave up on me and turned all her attention to him.
‘When she went away I knew it was partly my fault. If I’d been beautiful, like the child she’d lost, she could have loved me, and stayed with us. You see, after Liam died she couldn’t bear me near her—’ she was speaking earnestly, making him understand ‘—then when Dawn pushed me into changing my image I thought that maybe I could prove my mother wrong, prove to myself that I wasn’t the ugly no-hoper she’d made me believe in.’
‘You were never ugly, or a no-hoper,’ James told her, the savagery in his voice carefully contained. ‘You are lovely. And that is precisely why—’
‘You think I should carry on wearing—’
‘Exactly.’ His heart kicked with an unexpectedly strong emotion. Had Mattie’s mother still been alive he would have told her exactly what he thought of her. She had effectively killed her daughter’s confidence in herself as a woman. The cruelty some parents inflicted on their children was beyond belief—yet not unusual, as he knew only too well.
He stood up from the table, walked round it to stand beside her. ‘I have to go now. Be ready to leave at seven.’ He leaned over and brushed her cheek with a kiss, and his voice was gentler than she had ever heard it. ‘Finish your breakfast, Matts.’
And ten minutes later she was still there, the tips of her fingers on the skin his lips had touched. He had never kissed her before. It hadn’t been a real kiss, of course, but he hadn’t been playing to the gallery, either. Affection. It was a start, wasn’t it?
She hadn’t got round to telling him that she’d been wrong last night, that they didn’t have to pretend their marriage was something it wasn’t for the benefit of other people. Tonight. She’d tell him tonight.
In the meantime, she had things to do. She didn’t want him to find her too sexy, or too obvious. Affection, she thought with an upsurge of hope, was a much more solid base to build on.
Mattie put on her make-up, painstakingly recalling the instructions she’d been given. She supposed that one day it would become second nature—always provided she lived that long!
Her hand hovered over an army of lipsticks in shiny, gold-coloured tubes. She opted for the palest. Putting her steel-framed glasses on, she read the tiny label. ‘Hint Of Pink.’ A hint was all that was required. Forget the lush scarlets, the shimmering bronze tones, the glowing cerise that, even to her own eyes, made her mouth look like a crushed peony.
Pale pink it was, then. She applied it carefully then stood up, wincing as she pushed her aching feet into the heavy, flat black shoes that had been her final purchase of the long, dark winter afternoon.
Shopping in Oxford Street had been a nightmare. Cities always stressed her. The crowds, the traffic, the endless streets of buildings gave her claustrophobia, made her long for the open spaces, the wide skies and sheer peace of the Sussex downs.
But she was on a mission and wouldn’t allow herself to give up until it was accomplished. At least Dawn wasn’t with her to push her at over-the-top, far too expensive designer labels. She would stick with the chain stores.
At least she now had clothes that weren’t too showy or provocative. Despite her husband’s change of heart she would dress as she felt fit. Driving him to think lustful thoughts—even if he’d said he wouldn’t act on them—wasn’t on her agenda. If their relationship were to develop it would need more than basic animal instincts as a foundation.
If.
Suddenly swamped by negative thoughts, she eyed her reflection. Who the hell did she think she was kidding? Of course he wouldn’t fall in love with her.
So, OK, he’d as good as admitted he found her sexy when she was all dressed to reveal. So what, he could handle it, hadn’t he said so, only this morning? For as far back as she cared to remember he’d been swarmed over by females far more glamorous and seductive than she could ever hope to be. And he hadn’t fallen in love with any of them.
Except Fiona, of course. Despite what he’d implied—that he’d picked her merely because he’d needed a wife and Fiona had fitted the bill because she was beautiful, came out of the top drawer and would be a credit to him—she didn’t buy it. He had loved Fiona, he must have done, and she had hurt him badly.
So why the heck should he forget everything Fiona had meant to him and fall in love with her?
