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The conversation over dinner was light and entertaining, her mother-in-law an experienced and skilled hostess. Never for one moment did Lucy feel out of place or unwanted. Her pregnancy was mentioned a couple of times in the context of the general conversation, Sophy so patently relaxed about it that Lucy felt some of her own apprehensions ease.
She was grateful when Sophy suggested an early night, knowing that it was only will-power that had kept her from yawning openly over the last stages of the meal.
Suspecting that Saul would probably remain with his parents, she excused herself, returning Sophy’s almost motherly kiss as she and Harry said their ‘good nights’.
As she walked past Saul’s chair, she smiled at him, too, trying not to show how tense she was.
‘I won’t be long,’ he told her. ‘I’m rather tired myself.’
While Harry laughed and teased him for being very unromantic for a newly married man, Lucy made her escape.
Already she was beginning to take the air-conditioning for granted, showering quickly, and then cleansing her face and brushing her hair before slipping between deliciously cool and soft percale sheets. The quality of the bedding was something she had already noted and decided to ask her mother-in-law about. There were a lot of adjustments she was going to have to make in her new life and she was glad that Sophy was there to help and advise her. At home they used linen sheets, originally bought by her great-grandmother, and still going strong, but they were nothing like as soft and comfortable as these.
The sound of a door opening and then closing brought her up through several layers of sleep but not fully awake. The alarm the sounds had triggered off faded as her subconscious recognised the sounds of the decisive masculine movements about the room. The shower ran, a distantly heard and faintly comforting sound. There were movements and then the sensation of the bed depressing, accompanied by the silken rustle of sheets and an elusively familiar, tangy male scent. Instinctively, Lucy turned towards the source of it, her sleep deepening into complete relaxation as she snuggled up against the warm male body so close to her own. A smile curved her mouth as she nuzzled, contentedly, deeper into the secure warmth.
Lying on his side looking down at her, Saul tensed and swore silently, reaching out to push her away, and then changing his mind and instead settling her more comfortably against his body, his arm curling around her.
CHAPTER TEN
LUCY was having a dream. In her dream she was in Saul’s arms, and he was making love to her as he had done before that fatal quarrel. Wherever he touched her skin tiny frissons of pleasure burned along her nerve endings. What he was doing to her was delightful, but she yearned and ached for more. She reached out towards him, wanting to convey with her own touch how much she wanted him. Her fingers touched smooth skin and hard muscle. The layers of sleep parted abruptly, the sensation of flesh and bone beneath her fingers too real to be the product of any mere dream. Panic fluttered inside her as her eyes opened. She was lying in Saul’s arms, the pre-drawn light filtering through the room.
Like a guilty child she snatched her fingers away from his skin, her throat suddenly almost too tight for her to breathe. What was she doing?
In the same instant that she came awake she realised that Saul was completely naked, the fragile silk of her nightdress the only barrier between them. Filled with panic she tried to wriggle away, dreading the thought of him waking up and finding her here in his arms, but the minute she tried to move the arm round her waist tightened, his eyelids opening to reveal darkly glittering and far too alert eyes.
‘Let me go! What are you doing?’ The words tumbled from her lips with feverish panic.
‘You tell me. You were the one who started this,’ he told her mockingly, ‘snuggling up to me like a little kitten begging to be stroked.’
The picture his words were making was too intimate… it made her too vulnerable. Hot colour stormed her skin as she listened to him. Had she really? She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his eyes.
‘Think I’m lying?’ he asked softly.
Why should he? He didn’t want her, while she…
Numbly she shook her head, and then said huskily, ‘I’m sorry, I…’
‘Don’t be.’ His voice was oddly harsh as he added, ‘I’m still man enough to enjoy having a beautiful woman cuddle up to me—even if she is asleep.’
He was smiling, Lucy realised incredulously, almost laughing in fact, his grey eyes gleaming, not with dislike or contempt, but amusement and… Her breath caught, her throat muscles rigid as she recognised the hot glitter of desire in them.
