Their footsteps made no sound on the thick ivory carpet. They passed ancient portraits and little tables and vases and candle sconces that she had enough history education to assess as Tudor and Regency and Victorian. Old, old family heirlooms.
Zafir was out of his mind, bringing her into this.
His “suite” was essentially a town house, taking up all three floors of the southeast corner of the main house.
“My mother converted it for when my father stayed with us. After he passed, she couldn’t bear to be in here so she moved back into her old rooms. Tariq has the upstairs to himself. I don’t bother keeping a full staff. We eat in the main house, but there’s a kitchen below along with laundry and the rest.”
The rest being...an indoor pool? A bowling alley?
“And you make do with this,” she murmured, pacing the lounge that could fit a dozen of Miss Ivy’s little parlor.
An archway on the left led to an expansive dining room with a balcony that overlooked the outdoor pool, covered at the moment. The fading light through those windows was the only natural light into the lounge because, she quickly realized, the front of the apartment was dominated by the master bedroom. Peeking through one of the sets of French doors into his private space, she noted that he liked earth tones and modern art and tons of room to stretch. The view of fields and woods beyond the tall windows was breathtaking.
The footman left her case at the bottom of the stairs. His curious eyes glanced off her belly before he offered a quick smile. “Will that be all?”
“Thank you, James,” Zafir said.
With a bow, the young man started off, pulling a buzzing mobile phone from his pocket as he went. Glancing at it as he reached the door, he turned and said, “Excuse me, sir. I’m to let you know that Ms. Calloway has arrived. Mrs. Reid will bring her up. She wants to check that the guest room is in order. Also, your mother would like to speak with you.”
“Leave the door open for Vivienne, tell Mrs. Reid we’re not using the guest room and please inform my mother that I’ll be tied up until dinner.”
James nodded and hurried off, leaving the door open.
Fern stared hard at Zafir’s stony expression. Had he heard her at all in the car five minutes ago? Her nerves pulled taut with anxiety at having a confrontation, and part of her was so hot for him, she didn’t even want to fight him on this, but...
“Is this a test? You just told a stranger that I’m sleeping with you without asking me first.” She didn’t even know if she was allowed to have sex!
He blinked as though her complaint surprised him. “It’s a little late to pretend we haven’t shared a bed.”
“And a little early to start doing it again!”
“What do you...? It’s a big bed,” he said, going a little darker beneath his deeply tanned skin. “I realize we might have to wait until the baby comes, but where you sleep is not negotiable. We can’t make this marriage work if you’re haunting another side of the house.”
Haunting. Interesting choice of words, but hardly the most pertinent factor here. “But you are expecting this to be a real marriage. With, um, sex and everything.” Oh, she hated herself for blushing with anticipatory heat.
He tucked his chin and lifted his brows. “You said you weren’t a good match for me, but when it comes to bed, we’re inflammable.”