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He’d only seen photos of this place but had been sure Elisabeth would like it. It had been impulsive, arranging this, but an impulse based on close observation of his wife.
They passed through a ground-floor library and up to a gallery where light shimmered across the ceiling, reflected from the moat below. Elisabeth paused by a long window seat, stroking the cushions, and Jack had an immediate image of her curled up there with a book.
Then came another image. Elisabeth sitting there holding a baby to her breast, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.
Jack slammed to a stop, undone.
Elisabeth was having his baby.
It didn’t matter how many times he told himself, each time it was amazing, shocking. And increasingly exciting.
But not just because of the baby. His need for Elisabeth hadn’t diminished. It should have. He was a proud man and it made no sense that he’d yearn for a woman who’d rejected him twice.
Yet there it was. He craved this woman. Always had, from the moment he saw her. The idea of his child growing inside her was, he discovered, extraordinarily arousing.
He couldn’t afford to think about that now.
The housekeeper led them to a sitting room with windows on two sides. The furniture was old, dark and slightly shabby but comfortable as they settled to the afternoon tea laid for them. Flames glowed in the ornately carved stone fireplace and reflected off brass bowls filled with flowers. It felt...homely.
Jack watched his wife pour tea and hand him a slice of fruitcake. Another knot of tension in his spine untangled. He let the unfamiliar feeling of peace wash over him.
He wasn’t a man who craved peace. He was too focused on achievement, goal setting and triumphs. Always scaling the next ambitious height, working all hours to attain ever more taxing professional successes.
But there was something soothing about being here with Elisabeth, watching her so at ease, that made him forget all the things he had to do and the problems he had to solve. As if it was enough simply tobe.
‘You look...at home.’ He heard the question in her tone. ‘You’ve been here before?’
‘Never.’ Jack knew she was going to ask about his connection to the place and changed the subject. ‘But it’s good to be out of London, away from the press, don’t you agree?’
He was almost sorry he’d asked when her brow twitched in a frown as she remembered the furore they’d left behind.
‘Absolutely. It was horrible.’
Jack didn’t want to press the point but he couldn’t let her delude herself that this would pass. She needed to understand.
‘You know it’s not going to ease, don’t you? They will keep trying to get photos, not just while you’re pregnant but when the child’s born too.’
She lowered her teacup. ‘I’d worked that out.’
He should continue, remind her that there was one sure way to reduce the press’s voracious appetite for a story—by mending their marriage. But he didn’t have the heart for it. She’d been through enough today.
Jack wanted to pull her close and convince her to put her trust in him, let him deal with everything. He wanted to distract her by letting the ever-present embers of desire ignite. By seducing her until she fell into sated sleep and got the rest she needed.
He wanted...her.
The intensity of his need threatened to undo everything.
Jack put down his untouched cake and shot to his feet. He needed to get away. ‘I’ll leave you to get settled.’
That hadn’t been his intention. He’d planned to stay. To use the time under the same roof to make her see their marriage wasn’t over, could never be over given how they reacted to each other. That attraction, that compulsion, only grew stronger. Even today when she’d looked daggers at him, he’d seen what she couldn’t hide. The longing, the spark of desire.
But he’d change his plans, for now.
‘Wait!’ She put down her own cup, frowning. ‘You’re leaving?’
Her eyes looked like pure antique gold from some fabled treasure.
Jack stilled. Since when had he indulged in such flights of fantasy?
