Marriage Without Love & More Than a Convenient Marriage(39)
He was wearing a brief towelling robe, but that didn’t stop her imagination playing back to her exactly what was underneath it, and her body ached to touch his golden skin; to feel the powerful drive of his maleness against her.… She drew a ragged, shuddering breath, and pointed to the case.
‘I came for this.…’
‘What else?’ he mocked. ‘But let’s get one thing straight, Briony. When we get to my godmother’s we shall be sharing the same room. As far as she’s concerned, this is a normal, happy marriage, and that normality includes things like sharing a bedroom.’
She stared at him, appalled.
‘But we can’t!’
He shrugged dismissively. ‘Why not? I never said anything about this marriage being in name only. It won’t kill you.’
She thought of how she felt about him, and how impossible it would be to share his bed and appear indifferent, and said bitterly, ‘Won’t it?’
He reached for her, his thumbs stroking her throat, her body pressed against the damp warmth of his.
‘We’re married,’ he said softly, ‘and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life like a monk. Think of Nicky. Surely you aren’t going to deprive him of the pleasure of brothers and sisters?’
Briony wavered, tormented against her will by the soft seduction he was weaving. It would be so easy to give in, to spread her fingers out against the hard warmth of his skin and give herself up to the thundering demand of her own body. Lost in indecision, she let Kieron tilt her head back and touch his lips to her throat in a coaxing caress, closing her eyes and letting herself be sucked down into a dark whirlpool of delight, her lips parting in heated anticipation.
‘What are you doing with my mummy?’
Her eyes flew open and in other circumstances she would have laughed at the male belligerence in Nicky’s voice as he frowned up at Kieron.
‘You left me!’ he accused Briony. ‘You was gonned a long time.’
‘Saved by the bell, but only this time,’ Kieron drawled in her ear. ‘I can see I’m going to have to invest in a bedroom door with a lock. ‘Come on, I’ll carry you back to your room,’ he told Nicky, bending down to pick the child up.
‘It isn’t over,’ he warned Briony. ‘I meant what I said.’
* * *
The farther south they drove the more arid the landscape became, and Briony was conscious of a nervous tension which wasn’t entirely related to the forthcoming meeting with Kieron’s godmother. He had made no further reference to last night, but she did not doubt that he had meant exactly what he said, and the worst thing was that part of her almost wished that he would physically impose himself on her and thus relieve her of the burden of making her own decision, but she sensed that he was well aware of how frail her barriers were and that he would use time and propinquity as levers, waiting until she was at her most vulnerable to make good his threats.
They drove through the hinterland of the Côte d’Azur, thickly wooded with cypress, oak, ancient scarred olive trees and the distinctive umbrella pines; a slumbrous silence blanketed the countryside, luxurious villas were glimpsed here and there behind wrought-iron gates.
In Nice the glitter and splendour of the Côte d’Azur burst upon Briony’s unprepared eyes in a dazzle of unbelievable wealth, from the chrome on the expensive cars which filled the city to the discreetly luxurious jewellery displayed on tanned, seductive bodies.
‘In Nice,’ Kieron said dryly, ‘all that glisters is most definitely gold, solid and twenty-two carat.’
They took the corniche road from the city, winding along the flanks of the limestone cliffs of the pré-Alpes. Every time they swung round a bend Briony closed her eyes, only to open them again to drink in the view of the deep blue Mediterranean spread out below them.
Approximately twenty minutes after they left Nice they were driving through St Jean with its peaceful tranquillity and picturesque harbour.
Previously the nearest Nicky had ever been to the sea had been the lake in Regent’s Park, and while the Channel crossing had left him relatively unimpressed, the sight of the harbour clustered with yachts had him round-eyed with excitement.
‘Your godmother must be a very wealthy woman,’ Briony murmured, unable to refrain from voicing her growing doubts. They were driving past luxurious villas set in the most beautiful countryside she had ever seen, and she was dreading the coming ordeal of meeting Kieron’s godmother.
‘Relatively so,’ Kieron agreed. ‘Her husband was a very prosperous businessman. He drowned with my parents in a sailing accident. Marian had stayed behind to look after me. I was twelve at the time, and I’ve never forgotten the look on her face when she broke the news to me. I’m afraid for a while I even blamed her for the accident. She had been the one to invite us all to stay with her, but she bore with me with the patience of a saint. Héloise took me on one side in the end and reminded me that I wasn’t the only person who was suffering. When you share a tragedy like that with someone it forms a bond that can never be broken. Marian virtually took the place of my parents after that. I spent every school holiday with her. You’ll find she’s a bit of a romantic,’ he added. ‘Her happiness means a lot to me, Briony. Don’t disillusion her just to get back at me. As far as she’s concerned, we’re a loving family unit, and if you do anything to damage that illusion, I’ll make you suffer for it.’