The Billionaire's Bride of Innocence

‘Come and have some juice, then.’

‘In a moment…’

James counted to ten before saying firmly, ‘Megan. We have to talk.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said. ‘We do.’ But she made no move to join him at the table.

His patience finally ran out.

‘Then have the decency to stop what you’re doing and come over here!’ he snapped before he could stop himself.

He hated himself immediately for taking that tone with her. But, truly, there was a limit to what he could endure.

He watched, somewhat chastened, as she put down her brushes, stood up, then re-sashed her silk robe tightly around her waist, bringing his attention to just how much weight she’d lost since her miscarriage.

When he’d first met Megan, she’d been nothing out of the ordinary, a reasonably pretty, round-faced brunette with nice eyes, a few too many pounds and not much interest in how she presented herself. Like a lot of people with an artistic bent, she was introverted and unworldly. By the time he’d married her two months later, however, she’d smartened herself up considerably, admitting later that she’d sought the help of a professional style guru who’d helped her with her wedding dress and her honeymoon wardrobe, then shown her how to do herself up to her best advantage.

James had been taken aback—and turned on—by the more sophisticated look of his bride when he first saw her on their wedding day, having been overseas on business during the weeks leading up to their marriage. Her bridal gown was a delight, the strapless style and corset-like bodice giving her body a sexy, hourglass shape.

James hadn’t given Jackie a second thought on his wedding night. Quite a feat after running into his first wife in New York three days earlier, on the arm of her latest lover.

He wasn’t thinking of Jackie now, either, his eyes—and his concentration—totally on Megan as she turned and moved towards him.

Yesterday, at Hugh’s wedding, he’d thought she looked very attractive. Today, however, she looked seriously sexy and quite beautiful. Yet she wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair wasn’t done properly, just bundled up on top of her head in a decidedly haphazard fashion, with bits and pieces falling down around her face.

The loss of weight suited her, James realised. She now had cheekbones, her eyes looked bigger, her neck looked longer. So did her legs. In fact her whole figure was leaner, but still shapely, with good child-bearing hips, nice breasts and nipples just made for a baby’s mouth.

And for a man’s.

As James stared at the provocative outline that her nipples were making against the thin silk of her white negligee, he resolved that last night would be the last time Megan would sleep down here.

Tonight, she would stay in the marital bed.

Tonight, she would not turn away from him!

Chapter Three

MEGAN tried to ignore the direction of her husband’s coalblack eyes. Tried not to respond to the obvious glitter of desire in their depths.

But it was impossible.

Her nipples tightened, so did her belly, her weakness where he was concerned both exciting and annoying. It was wicked, the way he could affect her. She should have hated him for what he’d done to her. She did hate him. Sometimes.

Don’t look at him, she lectured herself. Sit down and pour yourself some juice and simply don’t look at him!

He was ahead of her, however, reaching for the jug before she had a chance and pouring the juice for her. She was forced to meet his eyes when he handed the glass over, his expression having changed by then from one of frustration to kind consideration.

‘Drink this up, there’s a good girl,’ he said with one of those warm, winning smiles of his, the kind he reserved for difficult clients. And weak-willed wives.

Still, he wouldn’t be calling her a good girl if he looked at the painting she’d worked on all night, Megan thought with bitter irony as she lifted the glass to her lips.

‘I’ve decided to take you away on a second honeymoon,’ he said after pouring himself some juice as well.

Megan blinked at him. He’d decided, had he? Just like that.

She had to admire him. At least he could do that—make decisions. Unlike her own wishy-washy self.

‘I was talking to Rafe the other day,’ he went on, clearly assuming by her silence—and possibly because of the way she’d kissed him yesterday—that she was going to agree. ‘You know Rafe, don’t you? Rafe Saint Vincent, the photographer. Anyway, he was telling me about this island he went to once, Dream Island. It’s off the coast of Queensland up near Cairns. He said it was the perfect place for a romantic getaway; a tropical paradise which offers total privacy and all the luxury in the world.’

Megan’s breathing quickened as she imagined what it would be like to go to such a place with James on a second honeymoon. He would be oh, so attentive to her, attentive and loving. And he’d make love to her as passionately and as often as he had when they’d first met.

Because he had a new mission: to make her pregnant again.

It was tempting. There was no doubt about it.

Lots of women in her position would take what he was offering and go on ignoring his lies. They would even try to have another child.

But Megan couldn’t do that last part. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

So what are you going to do? demanded the voice of reason. The time has come to make a decision. But which one?

Decision one: you confront James with the truth at long last and tell him what you overheard at the hospital. But, of course, if you do that then your marriage is over. You will have no alternative but to go home to your overbearing and critical mother.

Megan shuddered inside at such a prospect.

Decision two: you decide to live with James’s lies and give your marriage a second chance. You go on your second honeymoon and enjoy what your husband has to offer you. But you stay on the Pill till you feel ready to have another baby. Naturally, you don’t tell him you’re taking contraception because, if you do, your marriage will be over and you’ll be back home with Mother again.

It really was a no-brainer, not the way she was feeling right at this moment. She had to experience his lovemaking at least one more time, or go crazy.

‘That sounds…nice,’ she heard herself saying.

‘Darling,’ he murmured, reaching over to take her hand in his. ‘I can’t tell you how happy you’ve just made me. I’ve missed you terribly in bed,’ he said, stroking her fingers all the while. ‘You must know that.’

Suddenly, and perhaps perversely, she found the courage to at least give voice to one of her concerns. ‘Actually no, James,’ she choked out, even as her stomach contracted into a savage knot of desire. ‘I don’t know that.’

His eyes betrayed true surprise, his fingers stilling on hers.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You are the big boss of Images; a very rich, very powerful man. If you’d wanted sex these past few months, you’d have had no trouble getting it.’

There was no doubting his shock. Either that, or he was the best actor in the world.

‘I have never been unfaithful to you, Megan. Never! I want you and only you,’ he insisted, lifting her curled-over hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles.

It was probably a lie, Megan thought dazedly. But a brilliant one. She could perhaps live with lies like that, if he kept delivering them with such seeming sincerity, along with some of his exquisite lovemaking.

‘I’ll get right on to booking a place on Dream Island as soon as I get to work,’ he continued with his usual decisiveness. ‘But before I leave, can I tempt you with some cereal? Or a croissant?’