She pulled her hand away and laid it on her lap, curling up her fingers so her engagement and wedding rings caught the light.
‘I saw it happen to my mother when my sister developed a nut allergy. She gave up everything to be at home with Elspeth. My dad walked out when we were six, leaving her with the burden of taking care of two little kids, one of whom could die at any moment from anaphylactic shock.’ She let out a sigh and continued, ‘Mum didn’t just lose her career, she lost her potential to be the person she wanted to be. The person she thought she would be. I didn’t want that to happen to me.’
‘We all make choices we have to live with.’ Nina gave a wistful smile. ‘I’ve revisited my choice about giving up Lincoln so many times. I wasn’t lucky enough to have any other children. I thought I was being punished for not keeping him. Not a day went past that I didn’t think of him, wondering what he looked like, what he sounded like, what he was good at and so on. I’d walk past young men in the street and wonder if one of them could be him. I positively ached to find him, but I couldn’t summon up the courage until two years ago—I was too terrified that he wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I was blessed that he did. And then I realised he wasn’t truly happy. I wondered if it was my fault he found it hard to express love because of being relinquished as a baby. You know...what if the bonding issue was ruined for him way back then?’
‘But you did what you thought was the best for him at the time. And he had a happy childhood. His parents loved him as their own.’
‘I know, and I’ll be forever grateful for that. But, like me, you now have to get to a point where you forgive and accept yourself and your choices. You did what you thought was right at the time by calling off the wedding. And now, like me, you’ve been lucky enough to get a second chance. Not everyone gets that.’
Elodie gave an answering smile touched by melancholy. ‘I guess you’re right.’
She might be able to forgive herself, but would Lincoln ever do so? That was the question she had no idea how to answer.
***
Elodie left Nina soon after, so the older woman could have a rest before dinner. The youngish housekeeper-cum-cook, Alita, escorted Elodie to the suite she had prepared with obvious pride. She opened the door of the bedroom on the first floor with a wide smile, her eyes sparkling as if she had binge-watched romantic movies and television shows for most of her life.
‘Welcome to the honeymoon suite, Señora Lancaster. Elonzo brought up your luggage earlier. I hope you will be comfortable.’
‘Thank you.’
Elodie stepped into the graciously decorated suite, trying not to notice the king-sized bed made up with snowy-white linen and the array of blood-red rose petals artfully scattered on top. The bed might be big enough to accommodate two people, but when those two people were her and Lincoln what would happen? His hands-off rule was going to be tested to the limit, that was what. And her self-control—never good around him at the best of times—was going to be challenged like never before.
Elodie heard the door close behind her as Alita left and let out a long, ragged breath. She moved across the wide expanse of floor to the bed, picturing Lincoln’s dark head on the pillow next to hers.
Something in her belly turned over and her heart skipped a beat. She had fought for years to rid her mind of the erotic memories of being in his arms. The pleasure he’d evoked, the intense feelings he’d stirred in her like no one else. But she only had to close her eyes to recall the sensual glide of his hands along her naked flesh. His touch had sent fireworks through her blood each and every time. How could she share a bed with him and not want him?
The door opened again and she turned to see Lincoln standing there with an inscrutable expression. He shut the door with a definitive click that seemed overly loud in the silence. ‘Everything all right?’
Elodie folded her arms and pursed her lips. ‘The honeymoon suite has been lovingly prepared for us by Nina’s delightful young housekeeper.’
He came further into the room and tossed his phone on the end of the bed. ‘I’m sure we’ll manage to keep our hands off each other.’
She angled her head at him. ‘You think?’
He gave an indolent smile and walked over to where she was standing, stopping just in front of her. Close enough for her to see the green and blue flecks in his eyes and the dark bottomless circles of his pupils.
‘What? Are you worried you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?’
Elodie unfolded her arms and placed them on his chest. ‘I have a feeling you want me to put my hands on you. You want it very much.’
Her voice came out as a throaty whisper and she felt her pulse kicking up its pace at his nearness. The salt and citrus smell of him teased her senses, and the hard muscles of his chest beneath her hands reminded her of the potent power of his male body. She could almost feel it rising in the small space between their bodies—the arousal he couldn’t hide or deny.
She pressed herself against the swollen heat of his body, relishing the potent length of him responding to her in spite of his rules. There were no rules strong enough to contain the lust they felt for each other. She could feel it in the air like a third presence in the room. A throbbing invisible energy that drew them together as powerfully as a magnet to metal.
Lincoln’s eyes darkened and he drew in a sharp-sounding breath, his hands going to her upper arms in a hold that was on the wrong side of gentle. But she didn’t care if he left fingerprints on her flesh. She wanted him. All of him.
‘You’re playing a dangerous game.’
His tone was rough and deep, his fingers momentarily tightening on her arms.
‘What’s so dangerous about doing what we do so well, hmm? Or have you forgotten how good we were together?’
His hooded gaze went to her mouth, lingered there for a pulsing moment. ‘No, damn you, I haven’t forgotten.’
He brought his mouth down on hers in an explosive kiss that sent a rush of heat through her body. His hands left her upper arms to move around her, crushing her closer to him, so close she could feel the hardened ridge of his erection. A frisson passed through her—a delicious frisson that made the hairs on her head stand on end and a pool of molten heat form in her core.
He backed her up against the nearest wall, his mouth still clamped to hers. She arched her spine in a desperate quest for more intimate friction, and gasped when one of his hands lifted her dress to her hips. His hand gliding along her bare thigh sent another wave of intense heat through her core. Damp heat that smouldered and steamed and simmered in secret.
Lincoln’s mouth moved from hers to kiss the ultra-sensitive skin below her ear, the movement of his lips sending shivers cascading down her spine. He moved lower to the skin of her neck, and then her décolletage, the caresses light but no less tantalising. His hand slid further up her thigh to the edge of her knickers. Fervid excitement sent her pulse-rate soaring and her stomach swooped.
‘Oh, God, yes...’ she gasped against his mouth.
He traced the seam of her body through the lace of her knickers, his intimate touch making her grind against his hand, desperate to assuage the burning ache of her flesh. He pushed her knickers to one side and his mouth came back down hard on hers, his tongue mimicking the flickering action of his fingers. The tension built in her to snapping point, a rush of sensation barrelling through her until she was swept off into the abyss on a tumultuous tide of pleasure.
Elodie clung to his tall frame, not sure her trembling legs would hold her upright as the aftershocks rumbled through her body. But, as intensely pleasurable as her orgasm had been, she knew she couldn’t afford to let him think there was anything more than animal lust between them.
There wasn’t and never could be.
She had loved him once, with a consuming, overwhelming love that had almost caused her to give up everything she had planned for her life. But she had come to her senses just in time.
If she had married him when she was twenty-one she would have been little more than a trophy wife. A beautiful woman who would grace his home and bear his children and then be pushed aside when she lost her looks or he got bored with her. She wouldn’t have built her career to what it was today. She wouldn’t have built her profile to the point where she could use it to fulfil her dream of producing her own designs.
Lincoln had never told her he loved her. She had pressed him a few times, but he had never said those three little magical words. And what was the point of hoping he might say them in the future? He had been blatantly honest about his reasons for marrying her. She was only back in his life because he wanted to give his dying mother end-of-life peace.
There was no other reason.