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She was sure now that the call last evening had been from his friend, asking him to move out. During their time together she’d recognised Jethro’s natural authority and knew he would be chafing inside because he was having to deprive them of the final day of their honeymoon. But he was in no position to object.
The poor darling would be feeling diminished, and she couldn’t bear that. One day, though, she vowed fiercely, he would find his full potential. She found his flat male nipple with the tip of her tongue and ran the fingers of one hand down the washboard hardness of his stomach, and he gave a deep, guttural groan and turned and gathered her to him.
‘That’s it, then?’ Jethro lifted her suitcase and carried it down to Harry’s van. They were running late. He’d left her to sleep in while he’d made one or two necessary phone calls, gone round closing windows, made coffee and toast for breakfast. But she’d insisted on stripping the beds before they left, cleaning the kitchen.
‘We can’t leave the place in a mess. And what are we going to do about replacing everything we’ve used?’
His response had been non-committal to the point of indifference; she probably thought she’d married an ungrateful slob.
Now, as they left the van in the station car park, she said worriedly, ‘Can you just leave it here? Won’t it be towed away?’
‘Save me the bother of driving it to the scrap yard,’ he answered, his attempt at humour failing because they were going to miss that train and he was having to hustle her through to the ticket hall.
So she’d be thinking he was irresponsible, too. Though one of his earlier phone calls had been to Harry, to tell him where he’d find the van. He could pick it up, sell it for what he could get for it. Probably twopence-halfpenny—it wasn’t worth any more!
He’d bought two first-class tickets on his credit card, and when they entered the carriage, a split second before the train moved out, she said, ‘We can’t stay here. It’s first class.’
She looked adorable, pink and flustered, dressed in a pair of narrow-fitting white linen trousers topped by a cool lemon sleeveless cotton shirt. The band of freckles across her nose had widened. He wondered how long it would take him to count them.
He gave her a slow smile. ‘Relax. I have first-class tickets.’
‘Do you know how much they cost!’
‘An arm and a couple of legs,’ he said drily.
Great, just great! She would now think she’d married a spendthrift. She subsided into her seat and he smothered a sigh. He would spill the beans tonight.
He joined her, taking her hand, idly twisting the cheap wedding ring round on her finger. He would replace it with something more worthy of her.
‘Humour me,’ he said softly. ‘I want nothing but the best for you. And as tonight’s the last night of our official honeymoon, I’ll take you out to dinner and thoroughly spoil you.’
He knew the perfect place. An exclusive hotel near Windsor, with Georgian elegance, a menu and wine list to die for, a candlelit dining room, the tables set in islands of privacy, the bridal suite boasting a four-poster bed.
Another of this morning’s early phone calls had reserved the suite, and a table for two. His senior PA, James Abbot, would drive them there this evening, collect them at noon tomorrow. It would be the perfect place, the ideal setting for his explanations.
‘I don’t need spoiling, but dinner would be nice.’ She returned the pressure of his fingers and stared out of the window thoughtfully.
If he wanted to splash out then she’d do as he said and humour him. The money she’d paid him was his, after all. But they did need to have a heart-to-heart about the need to be careful in future.
They’d made love more times than she could count and her cheeks went pink just thinking about it. But they’d never once taken precautions. Why should they when they both wanted a family? Even now she could be pregnant.
The thought of having a baby with him made her stomach clench, made her give a tiny breathy gasp, and Jethro said softly, ‘What are you thinking?’
She turned to look at him, resting her head against the upholstered back of the seat. Her hair was loose again today, and it spilled down to her shoulders and framed her face with its pale gold silkiness.
‘Thinking how much I love you.’
And that was so true her heart squeezed tightly beneath her breasts. He looked both charismatic and commanding, despite the fact that he’d opted to wear the cheap, poorly cut suit he’d worn for their wedding over a cut-price shirt with a collar that refused to lie flat and a tie so chewed-looking he had to have borrowed it from his grandmother’s husband, Harry, or from some obliging tramp!
Her dear darling was doing his best to look smart for her benefit, packing away his usual worn denims and T-shirts. But what he wore didn’t matter to her; it was the man he was that counted. She would never have believed it was possible to love someone as extravagantly as she loved him!
It took all of two minutes to show him round her tiny, spartan flat. When he carried their suitcases to the bedroom she told him, ‘Sorry about the single bed. We’ll have to manage on that until I can arrange to have a double delivered.’ She gave him a rueful glance. ‘I’ve never tried to make it homey, so we’ll put our heads together and see how best to brighten it up.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he replied uninterestedly. ‘And don’t bother unpacking for me; I’ll see to it later.’ He shot a look at his watch, dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose. ‘I’d better make a move. I’ll pick you up this evening at seven. Wear something special.’
‘That business meeting?’ she asked quickly. ‘Shall I come with you?’ Whatever it was he had in mind she didn’t want him to jump into something iffy because he needed to provide for their future.
‘No.’ The shake of his dark head was very definite, his voice clipped, as if he felt she was wasting his time. ‘Get an appointment with your late uncle’s solicitor. If Laura’s to live at Studley you’ll need to get permission to have the keys before probate. If the place has been empty for some time we’ll need to check that it’s habitable.’
