SARA WOOD - Amber's Wedding

She stopped her muttered litany because Jake strode towards her and caught both of her shoulders in a firm grip. ‘Shape up, Amber!’ he advised sternly. ‘If you’re going to feel sorry for yourself then you’ll never get through the next few hours.’

‘Don’t bully me! Go away!’ she complained, dreading it all.

‘I can’t. We’re married, remember?’

‘But not welded together!’

‘As good as, for the next hour,’ he pointed out.

‘No. I’m quitting now—’

‘You can’t,’ he said patiently. ‘Not yet. First I have to get something clear. And then you must give a convincing performance to all and sundry. I want there to be no doubt about your feelings for me.’

She gulped. No more kissing, though, no more touching, she thought. She didn’t think she could bear it. ‘That—that kiss was enough to convince people, surely? Jake, you can’t ask me to do that again—’

‘It depends on how well you act the loving bride,’ he told her flatly. Amber gave him a puzzled look. He sounded...bitter. ‘In a moment, you’ll come down to the hall with me and you will sparkle like the diamonds on your finger. And dance with me as if you would die for me,’ he added with mocking softness.

Feeling hot and giddy again, she tried to move to the chair but the back of her dress seemed to be caught somewhere at the waist. ‘Oh, Jake—I’m trapped!’ she cried in dismay, twisting to see where and how. And she wanted to cry tears of angry frustration. She could feel them filling her eyes, blurring her gaze as she stared miserably up at him.

He slipped his hand around her to investigate. ‘So you are. Impaled on a rose thorn. Life’s full of them, isn’t it?’

There was a heady perfume in her nostrils, a waft of velvety scent as Jake’s arm brushed against the thickly clustered briars. And something else that she was beginning to identify—sharper, warmer...the scent of Jake himself, the scent of man.

His cheek had moved unnervingly close to hers. Amber’s big eyes slanted sideways. Jake’s skin was like warm brown satin. At least, she presumed it was warm. Heat was coming off his body, filling the space between them.

Her heart seemed to be leaping all over the place but she had no idea why, only knew that he disturbed her and that she didn’t feel safe any more.

‘Jake! Set me free!’ she demanded jerkily.

He gave a wry smile. ‘That was my plan,’ he murmured, both arms now firmly around her still slender waist. The lines of his mouth were butter-soft as his fingers fiddled at the small of her back. He looked at her obliquely, an amused glint in his eyes. ‘Mind you, I don’t think I can achieve that without some damage to—’

‘My dress! Please be careful—’

‘I think,’ he said drily, ‘the condition of your dress is the least of your problems.’

His meaning wasn’t clear at first. And then it was. As he struggled to free her he shifted his weight so that his knee pressed into her skirt, crushing the petticoats against her thigh with a soft whisper of taffeta. A slight movement of his body brought his chest against her heart-shaped bodice again and she drew in a shuddering breath.

That wasn’t deliberate, was it? Please not, she begged silently. She was imagining his interest. She had to be.

‘Hurry up!’ she muttered nervously.

‘Don’t fidget. You’ve got yourself into a right tangle and I’m the only person who can sort you out.’ He smiled faintly as if he’d said something privately amusing. ‘There! It’s free—Stay still!’ he ordered, when she made to knock away his arm. ‘The veil’s caught. Be patient.’

Her liquid brown eyes met his and flashed a hot defiance. ‘Patient be blowed! I’ve had enough of this!’

Crossly she reached back, encountering his strong fingers. For a moment they both seemed to be wrestling with the stubborn sprays of roses and Amber became increasingly heated as she struggled to escape from Jake’s unwelcome nearness.

‘Nearly there,’ he murmured casually.

‘Oh, curse it!’ she raged.

‘Calm down, it’s no big deal. Is it?’ he breathed, in the region of her small, horribly sensitive ear.

Amber gritted her teeth and wrenched at the offending briar. Pain lanced through her hands. Warm blood trickled onto her palms. But she was free and the relief was overwhelming. Quickly she ducked and slipped sideways, beneath his encircling arm. And then to her dismay she felt his hand closing around her elbow, spinning her around.

‘You fool!’ he said gruffly.

And suddenly his warm mouth was pressing into her palm and his tongue was licking the small drops of blood there. Amber found that she couldn’t move. Pale and frightened, she watched as if in a dream while he turned his attention to her other hand, nursing it, repeatedly catching each tiny drop of blood with his tongue.

A wave of despair swept through her. He’d only taken a few seconds over the gesture but his deeply tender and erotic action had made her unsure of his real motive for marrying her. She felt her knees buckle and his hand reached out to steady her.

‘It’s all right, Amber,’ he soothed. ‘Calm yourself. You can relax. Everything’s fine. You’ve been scratched, you’ve bled a little, but there’s no lasting damage. In a short time you’ll hardly know you’ve been hurt.’

Hardly listening to what he was saying, more interested in how he was saying it, she snatched her hands from his, shaken by the resonating warmth of his husky drawl. As far as she was concerned, everything wasn’t fine. Because in his dark eyes there had been an unmistakable flare of desire. In his mouth too, she thought in confusion as his lips parted over even white teeth.

Her head was spinning, the world whirling. The heat that flared in her body made her want to groan in despair. It was a sure sign that her nausea was returning. The prickling sensation swept relentlessly over her sensitive skin and she began to breathe faster. Much faster. Her lungs seemed empty in seconds.

‘What is it?’ he asked with a worrying tenderness.

‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ she said, trying—and failing—to keep her voice even. ‘I’ve been through hell. I feel terrible. Miserable. I—I—’ Helpless tears filled her eyes and she groaned as her stomach rolled in a final warning. ‘Oh, help!’ she flung at him in panic, and rushed through the archway.

Picking up her skirts, she fled from Jake down the spiral steps, her hair and her veil flying out behind her like a banner. No sound came to her ears other than the harsh rasp of her own breathing and the tap of her satin slippers. Thank heavens, she thought, he’d decided not to follow her.

At last she reached the bottom of the tiny stairs and her feet were on the thickly carpeted landing. Ahead lay the sanctuary of the room which had been put aside for her that day. Getting there—alone—was all she could think of and she heaved open the heavy door with a moan of relief.

Safe at last. Slamming the door shut, she leaned her back against it, panting hard. And then she raced for the bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged, feeling pale and drained, her mass of flaming hair in disarray.

Only to find Jake, sprawled on the bed.

Her eyes widened till they were two huge dark smudges in her white face as he nonchalantly lifted his arms and made a cradle of them behind his head. Her throat dried. She felt too battered by life to cope with him.

‘Not you!’ she groaned rudely.

Amber watched him stretching like a contented cat. His arms were strong and sinewy, his lithe body displayed to full advantage on the oyster silk bedspread. He looked confident and dangerous, the line of his muscular thighs never more blatantly apparent than now, in the supremely masculine pose.