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Daisy knew how deadly publicity could be, had experienced the painful sting firsthand, watched one sister flee the country and the other hide herself away. Had done her best to stay under the parapet for the last eight years. But she didn’t have the visceral fear Seb had.
He was right, they couldn’t allow their child to grow up under the same cloud. Which meant she had to stick to their agreement. A civilised, businesslike, emotion-free marriage. She had to grow up.
‘What are you thinking, Daisy?’ His voice was low and the green eyes so dark they were almost black.
‘That you’re right. That I can do this.’
His mouth quirked into that devastating half smile and Daisy’s breath hitched. ‘Marriage is going to be a lot easier than I imagined if you’re going to keep on thinking I’m right.’
Her chin tilted. ‘This is a one-off, not carte blanche.’
His slow grin was a challenge. ‘Just how right am I?’
‘What do you mean?’ But she knew. She knew by the way it was suddenly hard to get her breath. She knew by the way his voice had thickened. She knew by the way his eyes were fixed on hers. She knew by the heat swirling in her stomach, the anticipation fizzing along her skin.
She knew because they had been here before.
The memory of that night was impressed on each and every nerve ending and they heated up in anticipation, the knowledge of every kiss, every touch imprinted there, wanting, needing a replay.
‘How in are you, Daisy?’ His meaning was unmistakeable.
The heat was swirling round her entire body, a haze of need making it hard to think. They were going to get married, were going to raise a child, make a life together. They had every right to take that final step. Every need.
So he didn’t love her? That hadn’t mattered before, had it? A mutual attraction combined with champagne and the bittersweet comedown she always experienced after a wedding had been enough.
And it wasn’t as if she were foolish enough to go falling in love with someone after just one week, someone who made it very, very clear that love was always going to be a step too far.
He didn’t love her. But he wanted her. The rigidity of his pose, his hands curled into loose fists, the intensity of his gaze told her that. Every instinct told her that.
And, oh, she wanted him. She had tried to fight it, hide it, but she did. The line of his jaw, the way he held his hands, the dark hair brushed carelessly back, the amused glint that lit up the green eyes and softened the austere features.
The way each accidental touch burned through her, every look shot through to her core.
And, dear God, his mouth. Her eyes moved there and lingered. Well cut, firm, capable. She wanted to lick her way along the jaw, kiss the pulse in his neck and move up to nibble her way along his lips. She wanted to taste him. For him to taste her. To consume her.
The heat intensified, burning as her breasts ached and the pull in her body made the distance, any distance unbearable.
There was nothing to stop her. They were going to be married. It was practically her right to touch him. To be touched.
It was definitely her right to kiss him.
And just because she had been fixated on romance in the past didn’t mean she had to be in the future. After all, look how quickly she tumbled out of love, disillusioned and disappointed.
There was a lot to be said for a businesslike, respectful marriage. Especially marriage with benefits.
She swallowed, desperate for moisture.
‘Daisy?’ It was more of a command than a question and she was tired. Tired of fighting the attraction that burned between them, tired of being afraid to take it on.
She stood up, slowly, allowing her body to stretch out, knowing how his eyes lingered on her legs, up her body, rested on her breasts sharply outlined by her stretch. She saw him swallow.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she said, turning towards the door. She paused, looked back. ‘Joining me?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE CUP TILTED as Seb nudged Daisy’s door open and he hastily righted it before the lurid green mixture slopped onto the threadbare but valuable nineteenth-century runner. The tea was supposed to be completely natural but he’d never seen anything that resembled that particular green in nature.
He didn’t wait for an answer but opened the door. ‘Daisy? Tea.’
Luckily the nausea of last week had yet to grow into anything more debilitating but Daisy still found the first hour of the day difficult. A cup of something hot helped although replacing her beloved caffeine was still proving problematic. She was going to run out of new flavours of herbal tea to try soon.
