Bedded and Wedded for Revenge Read online

  Gemma tentatively took his outstretched hand and rose to her feet, her stomach doing its own little tumble turn as his wet warmth brushed against her as he led her to the pool.

  ‘Take it slowly,’ he cautioned. ‘The steps can be slippery.’

  She did as he instructed, holding his hand as she went down the four steps into the cool embrace of the water. She felt it slide over her hot skin and a sigh of pure pleasure burst from her lips. ‘It’s wonderful.’

  Andreas smiled as he let her hand go. ‘This is just what you need, cara. It will strengthen your leg without loading it too much.’

  Gemma tested her limbs in the water, surprised at how weightless she felt. For once her leg wasn’t an encumbrance but acted like a ballast as she did a length of very-out-of-practice freestyle. She had to stop for a breath at the end, embarrassed that she was so out of condition.

  She turned around to see Andreas’s dark eyes on her and her heart gave an extra beat, which had very little to do with her physical exertion.

  ‘Come on, Gemma,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Do some more. It will do you good.’

  She took a breath and did another lap, feeling a little more comfortable this time as she found a kind of rhythm in her strokes. It seemed no time at all that she was at the end again and this time not so out of breath.

  ‘You are doing very well,’ Andreas said. ‘Keep going.’

  She gave him another little shaky smile and turned back and swam to the other end, her slim frame gaining confidence with each stroke.

  A few minutes later she surfaced just beside him, her blonde hair trailing behind her in the water. ‘I can’t believe how relaxing this is.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘You will no doubt be beating me in few days.’

  ‘I don’t think so. You look like you do a lot of this.’

  ‘Enough to keep in shape.’

  Enough to keep in incredible shape, Gemma thought as her gaze dipped to his abdomen where a trail of dark masculine hair disappeared beneath his black bathers.

  ‘I—I think I’ll do another couple of laps,’ she said and pushed off from the wall.

  How different he looked, she thought as she pummelled through the water. He was a man now, a full-blooded man, no longer a young boy on the threshold of manhood. His body was a power house of strength, each sinew and muscle toned to perfection.

  In spite of the warmth of the water she felt her skin break out in an all body shiver at the thought of lying so close to those long male limbs tonight and for however long their marriage continued.

  After a while her body declared it had had enough and she flopped to the side, her hair in tangles, her cheeks flushed and her eyes all the time trying to avoid the temptation of Andreas’s body standing waist deep so close to hers.

  ‘Had enough?’ he asked.

  She forced her gaze upwards and her eyes clashed with his dark intense stare and suddenly her mouth went dry, her limbs feeling as if they had run a marathon instead of done a few ineffectual laps of a backyard pool.

  He reached out a hand and removed a strand of wet hair out of her face, his eyes so very dark she felt as if she were drowning in their chocolate depths. Her breathing began to accelerate, her pulses leaping beneath her skin as he reached for her, his hands on her waist possessive and yet gentle and caressing all at the same time.

  His hands moved upwards to settle just below her breasts, the soft curves of her body brushing against his fingers as he brought her even closer.

  ‘I want you, Gemma,’ he said in a voice so deep she felt as if she could feel it through the sensitive layers of her skin. ‘I have always wanted you, whether you remember it or not.’

  She drew in a ragged breath, unable to speak as his head came down towards hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers sent her senses reeling, the first thrust of his tongue undoing her completely. She melted against him, her arms going around his waist, her hands slipping to his taut buttocks, holding him against her, the feel of his hard arousal thrilling her even as it secretly terrified her. She had never expected to feel desire so strong it would wipe away what had happened to her in the past, but she could feel it pulsing through her now, the need to feel the touch of a man with mutual pleasure in mind.

  He lifted his mouth from hers to look deep into her eyes. ‘I should not be rushing you like this,’ he said. ‘You asked for some time and I will honour that. We will not consummate this marriage until you are ready to do so.’

  Gemma felt tears spring to her eyes at his consideration of her, when she had been so unforgivably harsh to him in the past. How could he find it in himself to treat her with such compassion when surely all he could remember, as she did too, was the shameful way she had made him feel ten years ago? She had accused him of a crime he of all people was not capable of committing due to his highly principled nature.

  ‘I’m afraid I will disappoint you,’ she said softly, unable to look into that dark warm gaze.

  He held her close, his chest moving in and out against the softness of her breasts. ‘You will not disappoint me, Gemma.’

  He eased her away from him just enough to find her mouth again with his own, in a kiss so tender it struck at the very core of her in a way no one had done before. His tongue stroked along the length of hers, calling it into a dance of building desire that left her craving more of his touch. The water lapping at their bodies increased her awareness of their closeness, his thighs like a steel brace against the soft tremble of hers. One of his hands delved into the shiny wetness of her hair, the other to where her breasts were aching for his touch. When his palm cupped her through the thin worn fabric she jolted against him with reaction, her nipple so tight it felt like something between pleasure and pain. She wanted more, much more. She wanted to feel his hands on her naked flesh, touching, shaping, caressing, and his hot, tempting mouth branding her as his own.

  But before she could tell him he released her from his embrace and took a step backwards. ‘You are starting to get cold, cara,’ he said.

  ‘I—I’m not c-cold.’

  His mouth tilted at one corner as he trailed a finger down the length of her goose-bumped arm. ‘You are not a very convincing liar, Gemma.’

  Gemma felt her heart give a sudden kick-start in her chest as his dark, unreadable gaze held hers. ‘Wh-what makes you say that?’ she asked.

  His smile, like his eyes, gave nothing away. ‘Come inside. The clouds have taken the sun away. I will leave you to shower and make yourself comfortable. I have some business to attend to.’

  He helped her from the pool with a gentle hand at her elbow and accompanied her indoors, guiding her to the bathroom before he left her to go to his study.

  Gemma stood staring at her reflection for a moment, wondering if he had seen the guilt she could see written all over her face. She saw the shadow of it in her blue eyes; saw it too in the worried frown that seemed to always be between her brows.

  She turned from the mirror and stepped into the shower, turning the water on full to heat her chilled flesh.

  When she went downstairs half an hour later there was a note propped on the counter in the kitchen informing her Andreas had left to pick up some paperwork from his office and would return in a couple of hours. She stared at the note for a long time, wondering if he was actively avoiding her or giving her the space she desperately needed.

  She let out a tiny sigh and, pocketing the note, wandered through the house, familiarising herself with her surroundings.

  Each room, she decided, was like looking at a different facet of Andreas’s personality. The spacious living areas with the high-tech entertainment systems indicated he liked his creature comforts, but his taste was simple and yet unmistakably elegant.

  His study was lined on three sides with floor-to-ceiling books and his desk with a laptop computer positioned so that the sunlight didn’t compromise the screen. She moved towards the desk where a series of photographs was arranged and picked up the first one.
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br />   It was a photograph of his family, obviously taken some time after his father had died. His sisters were very like Andreas with olive skin and dark-as-night eyes and hair. His mother was a small, elegant woman, with sharp intelligent eyes and a warm smile.

  How different from her own family, she mused sadly. She had spent most of her childhood and teenage years missing her mother and punishing her father for her absence. Her strained relationship with her stepmother had only intensified her unhappiness and it had been a steady downhill run from there. Her destructive behaviour had spun out of control, leaving both physical and mental scars that she knew would never go away.

  Gemma put the photo down, but her eyes were drawn to another on the desk. She reached for it with an unsteady hand, staring at the image for a very long time, a small frown bringing her brows together.

  ‘Do you not recognise yourself from ten years ago, Gemma?’ Andreas’s deep voice spoke from the doorway of the study.

  Gemma nearly dropped the framed portrait in her hands in shock as she spun around to face him. ‘I—I didn’t hear you come home.’

  He entered the room, his tall figure seeming to shrink the study, which previously she had thought so commodious.

  She put the photograph down on the desk, but it bumped against one of the others, sending it to the floor with a splintering of glass.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She stooped and began to pick up the fragments, but in her haste a shard of glass pierced her finger, bright blood spilling freely.

  ‘Dio!’ Andreas hauled her to her feet and, grasping her cut hand, inspected it for fragments of glass before wrapping his clean handkerchief around it to stem the flow of blood. ‘Can I not leave you for an hour or two without you injuring yourself?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, trying to pull out of his hold. ‘I’m sorry about the frame; I’ll pay for the glass to be replaced.’

  ‘I am not the least bit concerned about the glass.’

  A little silence swirled around them for a moment.

  ‘Why have you got a photograph of me?’ Gemma asked.

  He held her questioning gaze for a long time before answering. ‘I keep it as a reminder of my time in Australia. A memento, if you like.’

  ‘It seems a rather strange souvenir, if you ask me,’ she said with a guarded look. ‘Most people have photos of the Harbour Bridge or the Opera House.’

  ‘I prefer your image to that of a building or a bridge.’

  She frowned at his response. ‘I don’t remember giving you permission to take a photograph of me.’

  ‘But of course you do not remember, cara,’ he said evenly. ‘You are suffering from amnesia, are you not?’

  Gemma was hoist with her own petard and was almost certain he knew it. She could see the glitter of something in his dark eyes and knew she would have to be very careful in future.

  ‘That’s completely beside the point,’ she said. ‘I just don’t understand why you would want to keep a photograph of me in your collection. From what you have told me, I wasn’t exactly your best friend ten years ago.’

  ‘No, that is indeed true.’

  ‘Then why?’

  He tipped up her chin with one long finger so she couldn’t escape the burning probe of his gaze. ‘What does it matter why I kept it? I will throw it away if you like. Besides, I have no longer any need of it. I have the real thing now.’

  His statement contained an element of arrogance that unnerved her, but she fought valiantly not to show it on her face.

  Desperate to change the subject, she held up her finger still wrapped in his handkerchief. ‘I need to wash and dress this.’

  ‘But of course,’ he said, leading her from the room to the downstairs bathroom.

  Gemma tried not to be affected by his closeness, but her skin prickled all over as he led her to the basin and washed the wound, his touch gentle and sure. She unconsciously held her breath as he dressed the cut with a Band-Aid, his eyes coming back to hers once the task was completed.

  ‘There,’ he said. ‘That should heal very nicely. I do not think it is deep enough to leave a scar.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ she said with a wry twist to her mouth as she began to move away. ‘The last thing I need is another scar.’

  Andreas stalled her movement from the basin by placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him. His eyes went to the white line on her forehead, one of his fingers reaching to trace it in a caress so tender she felt her heart constrict almost painfully.

  ‘It is barely noticeable and yet you are troubled by it greatly but you really have no need to be,’ he assured her.

  She compressed her lips to control the emotion she could feel bubbling to the surface.

  ‘Truly, Gemma, it is nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?’ She eyeballed him resentfully, the tenuous control on her emotions finally slipping out of her grasp. ‘How can you say it’s nothing? Do you know what this scar represents? Do you?’

  ‘Do not upset yourself,’ he said calmly. ‘It will not change a thing.’

  ‘I have permanently disabled another person,’ she bit out. ‘Don’t tell me it is nothing. It is not nothing. It might not be very noticeable to you but, let me tell you, I will go to my grave with my guilt slashed permanently across my face.’

  Andreas watched as she wrenched herself from his hold and fled from the bathroom, but he didn’t call her back.

  He turned and looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Gemma had spoken about her guilt, but what about his own?

  CHAPTER TEN

  GEMMA wandered out to the garden but, as large and as private as it was, she still felt hemmed in and made her way to the street instead. She walked in the direction of the bay, the salt water smell in the air instantly lifting her flagging spirits.

  She stood looking over the water as it gently lapped against the sandy shore, the sound of a boat motoring past the only sound apart from a small group of teenagers who were sitting chatting near the jetty.

  How wonderful it would be to be able to rewrite the past, she thought as she glanced at their young tanned, able bodies, huddled together against the afternoon sea breeze. One of the girls laughed, the light tinkling bell sound carrying on the air striking a chord of deep sadness in Gemma’s chest. The so-called friends she had surrounded herself with a decade ago had not stayed around to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. Only Michael had stood by her, which still surprised her considering she was responsible for the destruction of his life.

  If only she could remember that night! Her head ached from trying to recall what had occurred before she’d left the hotel. She hadn’t been drinking, but something had made her drive recklessly that night. Like her, Michael had no memory of the accident, although he’d been able to recall that Gemma had turned up at his house in an emotional, almost incoherent state after yet another argument with her stepmother.

  But to Gemma it was all a blur.

  A thick fog in her head that was impenetrable.

  One of the teenage boys got up to throw a ball, which bounced and landed at Gemma’s feet.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, grinning at her as he bounded up to retrieve it.

  She smiled at him. ‘It’s fine. You look like you’re having fun.’

  ‘Yeah, we hang around here a bit in the summer.’

  ‘It’s nearly over…summer, I mean,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ he responded with a rueful grimace.

  Gemma was struck by the likeness the young man had to Andreas of ten years ago, the lean, gangly frame; the slightly unsettled skin with the shadow of a beard that was sporadic, and the dark hair that hadn’t quite made up its mind whether to stay back or fall forward.

  ‘Are you new around here?’ the young man asked.

  ‘Yes, I just moved here today.’

  ‘Wow, that is new.’ He flicked a glance back at his friends.

  ‘I’ll let you get back,’ she said, beginnin
g to move away.

  ‘You can join us if you like.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you but I’d better get back.’

  ‘See you around some time,’ he called out over his shoulder as he jogged back to his friends.

  ‘Bye,’ she said, feeling incredibly old all of a sudden. Had she ever been carefree and happy like those young people over there?

  ‘Gemma?’

  She turned at the sound of Andreas’s voice. She watched as he approached, his long limbs making easy work of the sand, her heart beginning to pick up its pace the closer he got.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked as he came to stand in front of her.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  His eyes were very dark as they centred on hers. ‘I did not mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She began to walk along the shore rather than meet his eyes.

  He fell into step beside her but it was a long time before either of them spoke.

  ‘Remember I spoke of travelling to Italy to meet my family?’ Andreas said once they had gone the length of the bay. ‘I would like to go sooner rather than later.’

  Gemma stopped in her tracks to look up at him, her eyes showing her surprise. ‘When were you thinking of going?’

  He gave a loose-shouldered shrug. ‘I have some business things to see to and my mother and sisters are keen to meet you. I thought we might go next week.’

  ‘Next week?’ She gaped at him.

  ‘Is that a problem for you?’ he asked.

  She forced her dropped jaw back into place. ‘It’s rather short notice. I’d have to inform the shelter.’

  ‘But your work at the shelter is entirely voluntary,’ he pointed out. ‘It is not as if you are under contract or anything.’

  ‘No…but…’

  ‘But?’ His espresso-coffee eyes centred on hers.

  ‘My passport is probably out of date.’

  ‘I have already checked and it is not,’ he informed her.

  Gemma sent him a wary look. ‘You seem to be very up to date on everything. Firstly you procure a marriage licence in less than a week, then you orchestrate legal work that would normally take a month at the least, and on top of that you have apparently done background checks on my passport. Is there anything else you have investigated without my knowledge?’