Craving Beauty(27)

"Yeah. Well, she was as mean as he was-most of the scars on my lower   back are courtesy of her. When I was too young to get away, she used to   beat me until she took the skin off my back."



"No mother would do such a thing!" Hira rose up on her knees, her gaze on his face. "No, husband. Please...no?"



Marc was stunned at the anguish in her eyes. "It no longer matters-it's in the past," he found himself saying.



Her hands rose to cradle his face. "But, outside and inside you have scars from it."                       
       
           



       



"I guess." He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."



She frowned but to his pleased surprise, leaned forward and gave him a   soft kiss. "I'll worry if I wish. Tell me why you don't like beautiful   women."



"Why did I think you'd be accommodating?" He kissed her to forestall   comment. "My story isn't very original. I was a poor boy but a smart,   athletic one. I also worked several jobs. One of them was as gardener   and car washer to the Barnsworthy family. They were, and still are, one   of the richest and oldest families in the area. I fell for Lydia   Barnsworthy and asked her on a date. Confidence has never been my   problem." It was a joking comment, an attempt to hide the emotions   evoked by the memories.



"A date?"



"A high school dance," he elaborated. "Lydia said yes, but when the day   came, she stood me up and went with someone else. And she made sure   everyone knew what she'd done."



"What did she look like, your Lydia?"



"Slender ice blonde." To the teenage boy, she'd been everything that was   gracious, but now he saw the cruelty beneath the beauty. These days it   was Lydia who chased him, much to his amusement and total disinterest.



"I've seen a picture of her in one of your American fashion magazines,"   Hira startled him by stating. "She's quite beautiful...if one likes  cold  women."



He hid his grin at the catty comment. "That certainly doesn't apply to you. You're the hottest woman I know."



It had taken him too long to realize that beneath the armor of   self-protective ice, she had so much spirit it burned hot enough to keep   him warm for life.



"So you wished to show the Barnsworthy family and others that you could   aspire to a woman of beauty." Her husky tones pulled him back to his   story.



"Put like that, it sounds adolescent," he grumbled. "But it's part of   the truth. The second part is, I saw you and wanted you. Without reason   or thought. I just knew that you were mine. So I took you."



His wife stared at him, as though she didn't know quite what to make of   that. Then she narrowed her eyes. "But you haven't shown me off to  these  people. Am I not good enough?"



"I've found that I don't want to show you off. You're for my eyes only." His tone was hard.



Her eyes widened. "Husband, you sound very... possessive."



"Yes." He was, he realized, very possessive where his wife was   concerned. So possessive that he didn't want to share her with anyone,   certainly not with the bitchy crowd that frequented those glamorous   parties.





Unfortunately, as if he'd conjured it put of thin air merely by thinking   of it, it became impossible to avoid going to one of those very same   parties. With their travel plans to Zulheil being rescheduled, they were   going to be in town on the date when an illustrious member of the   business community was being given an honorary dinner.



"We have to attend " Marc told Hira the night before the dinner, pulling   off his shirt. He'd arrived home only an hour ago after an intense day   at the office. To his delight, his wife had waited up to have dinner   with him. Such a little thing, but it meant so much, coming from the   fiercely independent woman Hira was blooming into. "I respect Artie and   it'll hurt him if we don't go when he knows we're still in the city."



"That's fine, husband." Hira closed her textbook and put it on the   bedside table. "I don't mind attending these functions. It's one of my   duties as your wife."



He gave her an exasperated look, trying not to be seduced by the sight   of her in that lacy black slip she'd shimmied into. "Do you do   everything because they're duties?" He wondered if she'd worn the sexy   garment to tempt him, and his heartbeat accelerated. A woman who   purposefully dressed to pleasure her husband had to have some feeling   for him. Some need.



She thought about it. "No. I lie with you because I wish to. We are together too many times for it to be duty."

Then she gave him a slow, sultry smile. "I wouldn't dress this way for   you if it was only duty." A teasing light in her tawny eyes, she   shrugged a slender strap off one honey-skinned shoulder. "Oops."



He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Hell, I guess I think of   these things as duty appearances, too. At least you'll make it   bearable." Keeping his eyes on her, he peeled off the rest of his   clothing.



She held out her arms. "Come to bed, husband mine."



He walked over, determined to say what he had to before the light of   welcome in her eyes reduced him to incoherent passion. "I want to warn   you-the crowd at these parties will stab you in the back if they have   the slightest indication that you're vulnerable."                       
       
           



       



"Me? Vulnerable?" She gave an exaggerated sniff. "I am ice, husband."



"I'd forgotten." He stopped by the bed, waiting for her to shift so he   could climb in beside her, and begin doing things to her that would   leave her drenched in sweat. Pleasing his wife turned him on like   nobody's business.

"You're so hot."



Instead of accommodating him, she moved until she was facing his erection. "Hot, hmm?"



His whole body shuddered as she dipped her head and took him to his own   private vision of heaven. "Yup, damn hot." Those were the last words he   said for a long, long time, because his desert beauty was in the mood  to  pleasure her husband.



Slowly.



Ten



The party was as he'd expected. Except for a few men and women he   respected, the glittering ballroom was full of debutantes who did lunch   and slept with other women's husbands, and those same husbands. None of   them dared to approach Marc because he wasn't known to be kind to  their  species, but he noted the way they looked at his wife.



"Stay close," he warned her.



She gave him an amused look. "I can negotiate these waters. I'm used to being talked about."



He nodded. "Don't let them hurt you or I'll have to get mean."



"Yes, sir." Laughter lit her eyes.



Despite her words she did stay close to him for most of the night. Toward the end of the evening she whispered,

"I'm going to powder my nose."



He nodded and watched her walk off. Lord, but she was stunning. The other men had been noticing all night.

But, scared off by her ice-queen expression, none of them had had the   temerity to approach her. He had to hide a grin. His wife was anything   but ice but she could do ice extremely well.



At that, an earlier thought intruded. Underneath her glittering beauty,   Hira had been just a little stiff ever since they'd arrived, though on   the drive over, she'd been her usual warm self. It was hardly   noticeable, but he knew her well enough, had seen her without her   shields too many times to be. fooled. The second they were alone, he'd   find out what was bothering his wife. And then he'd dedicate himself to   soothing her. Smiling, he turned his attention back to the party.



He got caught up in a conversation with the guest of honor for the next   ten minutes, and when he looked around for Hira, he couldn't see her.   Intuition had him heading out to the hallway, off which the ladies'   powder room was located. His eyes narrowed when he saw Lydia walk out of   the white-painted door, a smirk on her face.



Her blue eyes lit up when she saw him. "Darling!" She went to kiss him   on the cheek. Behind her back, he saw me door reopen and a familiar   figure walk through.



Without any hesitancy, he pushed Lydia aside. "What the hell do you   think you're doing?" He hated being manipulated. Even worse, he hated   being used as an instrument to hurt his wife.