Carrera's Bride

His jaw tautened as he looked at her, his reading glasses tossed lightly onto the top of the desk. He summed her up with his dark eyes, seeing innocence and attraction mingled with fear and nerves.

His eyes narrowed. He’d rarely been drawn to a woman so quickly, especially one like this, who was clearly from another world. Her connections were going to make her very valuable to him, but he didn’t want to feel any sparks. He couldn’t afford them right now.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“Delia Mason,” she replied.

“You’re Southern,” he guessed.

She smiled. “I’m from Texas, a little town called Jacobsville, between San Antonio and Victoria.”

“Lived there all your life?” he probed.

She gave him a wicked grin. “Not yet.”

He chuckled.

“Where are you from, originally?” she asked, clutching her dress to the front of his robe. “Not the Bahamas?”

He shook his head. “Chicago,” he replied.

She sighed. “I’ve never been there. Actually, this is the first time I’ve ever been out of Texas.”

He found that fascinating. “I’ve been everywhere.”

She smiled. “It’s a big world.”

“Very.” He studied her oval face with its big green eyes and soft, creamy complexion. Her mouth was full and sweet-looking. His eyes narrowed on it and he felt a sudden, unexpected surge of hunger.

She moved uncomfortably. “I guess I’d better get dressed.” She hesitated. “Do the cabs run this late?” she added.

“They run all night, but you won’t need one,” he said as he closed up his sewing kit and put it away. He thought of driving her back himself. But it was unwise to start things he couldn’t finish. This little violet would never fit into his thorny life. She couldn’t cope, even if she’d been older and more sophisticated. The thought irritated him and his voice was harsher than he meant it to be when he added, “I’ll have Smith run you back to your hotel.”

The thought of a journey in company with the mysterious and dangerous Mr. Smith made her uncomfortable, but she wasn’t going to argue. She was grateful to have a ride. It was a long walk over the bridge to Nassau.

“Thanks,” she mumbled with suppressed disappointment, and went into the bathroom to put her dress back on.

She hung the robe up neatly and then checked her face in the mirror. Her breath sucked in as she saw the terrible bruise coming out on her cheek. She put a lot of face powder over it, but it didn’t do a lot to disguise the fact that she’d been slapped.

She did the best she could and went back out into the security office. He was standing out on the balcony with his hand in his pockets, looking out to sea. He was a sophisticated man. He had a powerful figure, and she wasn’t surprised that he was in security work. He was big enough to intimidate most troublemakers, even without those threatening dark eyes that could threaten more than words.

The wind caught strands of his wavy black hair and blew it around his ears. He looked alone. She felt sorry for him, although it was probably unnecessary and would be unwelcome if she confessed it. He wasn’t a man to need pity, she could see that right away.

She thought of not seeing him again, and an emptiness opened up inside her. She’d just lost her mother. It was probably a bad time to get involved with a man. But there was something about this one that drew her, that made her hungry for new experiences, new feelings. She sighed heavily. She must be out of her mind. A man she’d only just met shouldn’t have such an effect on her.

But, then, her recent past had been traumatic. The loss of her mother, invalid though she’d been, had been painful. It was worse because Delia’s mother had never loved her. At least, not as she loved Barb; dear Barb who was beautiful and talented, and who had made an excellent marriage. Delia was only a seamstress, unattractive to men and without the live-wire personality of her much-older sister. It had been hard to live in the shadow of Barb. Delia felt like a bad copy, rather than a whole person. Her mother had been full of suggestions to improve her dull daughter. None of them had been accepted. Delia was satisfied with herself, loneliness and all. If only her mother had loved her, praised her even just once in a while. But there had been only criticism. A lifetime of it. She often wondered what she’d done to make her mother dislike her so. It really felt as if she were being punished for something. Nobody knew, least of all Barb, how difficult it had been for Delia at home. She’d done what was expected of her, always.

But when she looked at this man, this stranger, she wanted to do crazy things. She wanted to break all the rules, run away, fall off the edge of the world. She didn’t understand why he should make her so reckless, when she’d always been such a conventional person. Apparently there was something to that old saying, that different people brought out different qualities in you, when you let them into your life. He must be a bad influence, because she’d never wanted to break rules before.

As if he sensed her presence—because he couldn’t have heard her quiet steps above the wind as she joined him on the balcony—he turned suddenly and looked right at her.

She didn’t say a word. She moved beside him and stared out over the ocean, enjoying the sound of the wind, and farther away, the subdued roar of the surf.

“You’re very quiet,” he remarked.

She laughed nervously. “That’s me. I’ve spent my life fading into the background of the world.”

He gave her an assessing gaze. “Maybe it’s time that changed.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him in the dim light from the office. His dark eyes met hers and held them while the wind blew around them in a strange, warm embrace.

He made her think of ruins, of mysterious places in shadow and darkness, of storms and torrents of rain.

“You’re staring,” he pointed out huskily.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said unsteadily. “I’m just a small-town country girl. I’ve never been anywhere, done anything really reckless or exciting. I’ve never even been in a casino before in my life. But…but…” She couldn’t find the right words to express what she was feeling.

His chin lifted and he moved a step closer, so that she could feel the strength and heat of his body close to her. “But you feel as if you’ve known me all your life,” he said huskily.

Her eyelids flickered. “Well…yes…”

He reached out with one big, powerful hand and lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips. She trembled at that whisper of sensation and shock waves ran down her slender body into her sensible stacked high heels.

“Oh, boy,” he ground out.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in confusion.

“And I’m old enough to know better, too,” he said, obviously thinking out loud. He looked confounded, even irritated, so she wasn’t really prepared when he suddenly reached for her.

His big arms lifted her up against him as his head bent. His dark eyes riveted on her soft, parted lips. “What the hell. It’s midnight and you’re about to lose a slipper…”

While she was trying to puzzle out the odd remark, his head bent, and his hard, warm mouth moved into total possession of her lips.

Instinctively she started to struggle, but his mouth opened and she gasped at the unexpected flood of sensation that left her trembling. But not with fear. She melted into the powerful muscles of his chest and stomach, and drowned in the clean, spicy scent of his skin. She felt the sigh of his breath against her cheek while the kiss went deeper and slower and hungrier…

In a daze of longing, she felt his arms crushing her against him while his face slid into her warm throat and he stood there in the wind, just holding her. His arms were warm against the chill of the wind coming off the ocean. She should have protested. She shouldn’t be behaving this way with a total stranger, she shouldn’t even be here with a man she didn’t know.

But all the arguments meant nothing. She felt as if she’d just come home after a long and sad journey. She closed her eyes and let him rock her in his big arms. It was an intimacy she’d never felt in her life. Her mother had never been affectionate with her, even if Barb had. But that was in the past. Now, just the act of being held was a new experience.

Marcus was dumbfounded by what he’d done; by what she’d let him do. He knew by her response to him that she knew next to nothing about men. She didn’t even know how to kiss. But she trusted him. She didn’t protest, didn’t fight, didn’t resist. She was like a warm, cuddly kitten in his arms, and he felt sensations that he’d never experienced before.

“This was stupid,” he said after a minute, the strain audible in his deep, raspy voice.

“You don’t look like a stupid man to me,” she said dreamily, smiling against his shoulder.

He drew in a long breath and slowly put her away. His eyes were as turbulent as hers.

“Listen,” he began, his big hands resting involuntarily on her shoulders, “we come from different worlds. I don’t start things I can’t finish.”