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A large guest suite, with an equally large bed. If they shared that bed, he would touch her and claim her long into the night; he would never grow tired of being with her.
His throat tightened against the pressure of emotion. If he shared that bed with her, in time her belly would swell with his child. And when his year was up, he would be forced to stay. He could never abandon a child.
He glanced at her bare shoulders, at the tendril of hair brushing against her spine. He remembered the feel of her skin against his fingers and the warmth of her body pressed against his as she slept. If he stayed, she would destroy him. Living with her and knowing she wouldn't love him would slowly eat away at his soul. He'd only ever wanted to love
and be loved by Megan Bartlett. Like most men, he yearned for the one thing he would never have. He could claim her body, but as he held her, he would know she neither trusted him nor thought him good enough. That she had married him to save herself from the scandal..
He picked up his valise. "I'll take the room next to Bonnie's" he said, ignoring Megan's start of surprise. He didn't meet her eyes as he walked past her toward the stairs. "It's better if I'm close. Sometimes she has nightmares."
Chapter Fifteen
JVlegan told herself she wasn't going to cry. She blinked several times, then sniffed and stamped her foot. Crying didn't accomplish anything. Besides, it would make her nose red and her eyes puffy. Not that Justin would care one way or the other; he didn't even want to share her bed.
The burning behind her eyes increased, but she ignored it. What had happened? How had she angered him, or upset him so much? Last night had been so.. .so—she clutched her hands together in front of her waist and exhaled slowly— wonderful. She leaned against the wooden cabinet and sighed. She hadn't known such sensations existed. That her body could feel that kind of tingling magic. She hadn't known it was possible to want and ache and need with an intensity that had left her breathless. She was quite annoyed that no one had ever explained about the exquisite pleasure.
But she must have done something wrong. Had she offended Justin, or had her untutored enthusiasm embarrassed him? There had to be a reason he didn't want to share her bed. She wouldn't know what it was without asking him and she would rather be publicly flogged than expose herself to that kind of torment.
She stared moodily at the large hamper that had been delivered a few minutes before. One of the boys from town had run over, practically dragging the straw container behind him. Inside she'd found a cold supper, a bottle of French champagne and a note from Mrs. Dobson wishing she and Justin happiness as they started their married life together.
"Married, but not together," Megan said softly, running her finger down the side of the bottle. It was still cold and drops of water coated the outside. She'd never had champagne. Her father hadn't approved of drinking spirits. She wondered if it tasted better than the brandy Justin had given her the night before.
"Don't think about it," she ordered herself, then shook her head. How was she not to? She and Justin were married, sharing the same roof. Her body still ached pleasur-ably from his attentions last evening. She didn't even have to close her eyes to see him looming over her, his face taut with passion, his bare, broad chest so close, so warm, so—
A pounding on the back door brought her out of her reverie. Before she could cross the few steps to answer it, the door was flung open and Gene stepped inside.
He was properly dressed in a shirt, vest and jacket, but the jacket hung open and his hat was askew. Dark red stained his cheeks and his eyes burned as if lit with the fires of hell. Instinctively, she took a step backward, bumping her hip against the hamper.
"Gene, this is a surprise."
"For us, as well, Megan." His voice was low and controlled. She could hear the effort it took him to keep it so. That frightened her more.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see for myself," he said, advancing farther into the room. His censorious gaze raked over her, making her realize she still wore the Worth gown. She wanted to tug the bodice higher and wished she still had her shawl for protection.
"You look like a whore," he said, removing his hat.
