His Wedding-Night Heir by Sara Craven Read Free Book Online Page A

hermetically sealed.
    So it seemed she was committed beyond recall lo this
    madness.
    Her heart was fluttering against her ribs like a wounded bird,
    and her legs were shaking, but there was no point in delaying
    where she was, with the minutes passing.
    And there seemed little chance that Nick would agree to spend
    the night on the sofa in the sitting room, or allow her to do so.
    No matter how reluctant she might be, she would have to
    share this bed with him.
    As for the future—her mind cringed away from its
    contemplation.
    At least she knew now, with total certainty, why he'd asked
    her to marry him in the first place. Not because he'd ever
    wanted her in any real way, but because she was young, and
    probably fertile, and he needed her to give him a chi Id.
    Something the woman he really loved could not provide, she
    thought, wincing as all the old pain and anger slashed at her
    again.
    A year ago she'd been a naive, trusting fool, but she would not
    fall into the same trap again. She'd accepted his terms now
    and she would adhere lo them. There would be no more non-
    sense about imagining herself in love, or using Nick Tempest
    as the focus for her pathetic romantic fantasies. He was a
    businessman and he was offering her a business deal. Nothing
    more, nothing less.
    She owed him, and he expected to be repaid. It was as simple
    as that.
    And while she was with him she would learn to turn a blind
    eye to his extra-marilal indiscretions. Steel herself never lo
    ask where he was going, or where he had been. And, above
    all, never— ever—again follow him anywhere...
    Those were matters of priority, and certainly she would be
    under no ludicrous illusions about love, marriage and ' happy
    ever after' this time around.
    She got up and went across to the luggage stand, unzipping
    the overnight bag. The exquisite nightgown she'd bought with
    such shy hopes a year ago and never worn lay neatly folded
    on lop of the other contents. She picked it up an d shook it
    out, feeling the soft folds of white chiffon and lace drifting
    through her trembling fingers.
    Everything in the case was new, in honour of her brand-new
    future, including the quilted apricot bag for toiletries with its
    pretty beaded embroidery. She took it, with the nightdress,
    into the bathroom.
    The fittings were old-fashioned, and the shower was a trickle
    rather than a torrent, but she managed somehow, patting
    herself dry with one of the meagre towels. Then she slid the
    nightdress slowly over her head.
    A year ago the chiffon would have enhanced slender, blos-
    soming curves and made them seductive. Now it hung from
    her, she thought, giving herself a last disparaging glance in the
    mirror before turning away. Her shoulders and arms were
    thin, and her collarbones like pits. Her breasts were t hose of a
    child again.
    But why should she repine? After all, the last thing in the
    world she wanted was for Nick to find her attractive. He liked
    beautiful women—
    he'd never made a secret of it. And for a while there, as she'd
    bloomed under his careful tutelage, she'd been— almost
    lovely.
    But that girl no longer existed, and what was he left with
    instead? A rag, a bone, and a hank of hair. That was all.
    And maybe the connoisseur in him, the sensualist, would not
    find that enough.
    She trailed back into the other room, took clothes for the next
    day from the case—fresh underwear and a mid-calf dress in
    primrose linen, square-necked and cap-sleeved, which she
    hung up in one of the fitted wardrobes. After all, she'd bought
    it purposely to wear on the first day of the rest of her life, so it
    seemed an appropriate choice for tomorrow, if slightly sick.
    And it was barely creased, indicating that her bag had not
    simply been left unopened and untouched over the past twelve
    months, as she'd thought likely.
    Either that or she'd expected the entire contents of her luggage
    to have been removed to the nearest charity shop, erasing all
    physical