Cristiane Serruya - Trust - Betrayed

Sophia couldn’t refuse his plea and rose from her chair, placing her hand in his.

He raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles, “You look gorgeous, Sophia. And happy.”

“I am.” They walked hand in hand to the dance floor and he pulled her into his embrace, his arm snaking around her waist. “I missed you at the other parties. Why didn’t you come sooner?”

I’m not entirely sure why I came today. “I couldn’t. But I wouldn’t miss your wedding,” he answered noncommittally. “I’ve set the date of our ball.”

For some reason, she wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between them, to comfort him. “That’s great news. When?”

“November the twenty-seventh. It’s a Saturday,” he said. “I talked with Mrs. Chanda and she told me you’ve already started the refurbishment at both India and China.”

“Yes, the planning is done and we’ll start work no later than next month. You will love the project, Ethan. I told Zahira that I wanted to show it to you personally.”

Ethan danced effortlessly and a comfortable silence spread between them. He looked down, saw the warmth and understanding in her eyes, and wished he could hold her tightly in his arms again and feel her softness against him.

Frowning, Alistair opened his fisted hands and breathed. You’re being unreasonable, Alistair Connor. She is only dancing. Nothing more. You have no justifiable cause to complain.

He wanted Sophia, had wanted her from the first moment he saw her, when she walked into that meeting room. The physical, possessive and protective want, the need for her loyalty, her commitment; it was all still powerful enough to unsettle him, to obsess him, to undermine his usual unassailable control. Fuck!

She did look splendid in the gown, the lace bodice revealing a good deal more of her body than he deemed necessary. Enough to constitute a threat to public order.

Victoria did a fabulous job. It is gorgeous. She is gorgeous. And I am the most infatuated husband in the world. Bemused, he shook his head at himself. All I have to do is control my temper and remember that I mustn’t break any of my friends’ noses for looking where she is so flagrantly inviting them to.

Go there. Take her and take control of your feelings again. Brows quirking, he examined that conclusion and could not fault it. He wasn’t going to get any real peace until he fulfilled this desire. Unbidden, his mind conjured up their first kiss and his hands fisted again. Lips thinning, he crossed the room with sure steps.

Sophia was startled when Alistair’s voice cut in, “My wife.”

Ethan’s hands fell slowly from Sophia’s body and he stepped back. The expression on his face showed his disappointment at Alistair’s arrival.

“Sophia, darling, thanks for the dance.” Ethan kissed her cheek and turned to Alistair, “MacCraig. Yours was the most beautiful wedding I have ever been to.”

Of course. Sophia is the bride. Alistair enlaced Sophia’s waist and pulled her flush to his body. “Thanks, Ashford.”

Ethan nodded and walked away slowly as Alistair spun Sophia in his arm and started dancing with her.

“What are you looking at?”

Alistair’s eyes turned in her direction, her face holding an unasked question. “I’m looking at my beautiful wife,” he murmured for her ears only, running his fingers over her nape, while he told himself he really should behave since they were in public. “My sexy wife, whom I’d like to peel out of her dress and set naked on my lap so I can do debauched things to her sexy body.”

“You shouldn’t be let out to torment women.”

Smiling with slow deliberation that brought lustful heat into those eyes of forest green, he leaned in close, his next words a purr against her ear. “I only plan to torment one woman for the rest of eternity.” He drew in a deep breath, took her scent within, but he wasn’t about to rush. Not today. “Shall I tell you what I intend to do to you as your gift on our wedding night?”

He wrapped her up in tendrils of vanilla and oak. A sensual and decadent promise.

“No.” It was a laughing refusal, her husky voice entangling him in chains he had no intention of ever breaking. “Or I’ll tell you what I’m wearing under this dress.”

He felt like stretching in pleasure as her precious laughter stroked his senses.

Mine. The most beautiful woman in the place, and she was his. “You... You turn me inside out, you know?”

Welcome to your married life, Lord Caveman. She cocked her head at him, playfulness sparkling in her honey eyes.

“I feel... I don’t know...” He lost what he was going to say as he looked at her face. A fleeting thought that he didn’t deserve to be looked at with so much love was immediately swept away by her sweet scent billowing around him, everywhere a soft cloud of lace and femininity.

“Possessive,” she said, delving her hands in his hair. “The word you’re looking for is possessive.” She sounded entirely satisfied and leaned in, her lips softening in subconscious invitation.

Her mouth was a breath away from his.

That was all the encouragement he needed. “Come, my wife , it’s time for you to indulge your husband’s possessive wishes.”

As they walked away, hand in hand, they vowed to be together forever, not knowing that forever always ended.

Scotland, Highlands.

Sunday, August 8 th, 2010.

Airgead Caisteal.

9.15 a.m.

Some lessons are best learned with love. He smiled as he changed the saying. Propping himself on one elbow, he admired the sleeping woman in his bed. Mine.

He had known betrayal.

He had known pain.

But from the very first day he had met her, all he had known was love and happiness.

He didn’t resist the temptation and bent to kiss her soft lips. All mine.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, stretching on the bed, her lips curling up.

She had lost so much.

She had been hurt so deeply.

Since he had entered her life, he’d given her all the missing pieces of her broken heart and shown her a new path.

A new path for them to trail together.

She opened her hazel eyes and gazed into his forest green ones. “Good morning, husband of mine.”

All yours. “Good morning, my wife,” he answered and his smile grew impossibly large. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your new title. My. Wife.”

Nor will I tire of hearing you say it. She happily smiled back at him. “I do hope not.”

“I love you,” he whispered on her lips.

And before he kissed her, she whispered back, “I love you.”

Altreck Caisteal.

9.30 a.m.

In the painting on the ceiling, a chubby cupid shot arrows at an enamored couple, and mocked the handsome man who was lying wide awake since the night before.

What am I supposed to do now?

He looked around at the beautiful master bedroom of his manor. Even though the recent refurbishment had altered it drastically the room was still haunted by the presence of his one and only love.

She was mine. He sat up and rested his back on the wooden headboard, shoving his fingers into his brown sun-kissed hair. The most kind, virtuous and beautiful woman I’ve ever found in my whole life.

He looked at the woman sleeping beside him. Despite their similar appearance, she would never replace his real love.

She was my chance for redemption.

He left the bed and walk into the bathroom.

His rage spiked when he saw a bottle of Sublime Vanille on the bathroom counter.

And I threw my chance away. He grabbed the perfume bottle and hurled it at the wall.