Read Online A Spanish Marriage by Diana Hamilton - Free Book Online Page B

he’d run a mile. And the glorious thing that had seemed to spring to pulsating life between them had been a mirage, a charade of his own devising to hide the truth of the kind of marriage they had from his parents.
    She had to be very careful to hide her feelings for him, create a part for herself to play, and stick to it. Almost always upfront, her emotions worn on her face and spilling from her tongue, she might find it difficult, but she’d give it her best shot. She had a chance within this sham marriage, maybe only a slim one, granted, but she must not blow it.
    Dragging her eyes from him, she turned and made her weakened limbs carry her to the tall set of drawers. The discomfort of trying to fit his big frame on the narrow chaise would be nothing to the way his close proximity would torture her.
    Ever since he’d turned from getting rid of Sherman’s gaudy flowers she’d been looking stricken, Javier noted grimly. She didn’t even have that explicit message to drool over because he’d disposed of that, too. Was she so hooked on sex that she would do what Sherman had suggested and sneak away to be with him to make up for what this marriage lacked? Was she that much of a slut?
    â€˜Have you been sleeping with Sherman? Are you aiming to take up his invitation?’ His voice camebrittly; he had to know. Watching her slim shoulders stiffen, he waited, his eyes narrowing.
    The shock of his blunt question kept her rigid, her normally ready tongue stilled to silence. What did he think she was? He’d taken Oliver’s vile message on board, that was perfectly obvious. It hurt. It hurt a lot.
    Plucking one of the oversized T-shirts she wore to bed from the drawer, she turned then, hurt squeezing her heart until she thought she would choke on it. She wanted to lash out at him, scream and scratch, but she wouldn’t allow herself that luxury.
    Her voice as sour as vinegar, she pushed out, ‘That’s my business. I don’t ask you if you’ve slept with all those Glendas and Sophies.’ The reminder of how gut-wrenchingly jealous she’d always been of the women who’d briefly shared his life made her feel ill.
    Refusing to spare him another glance in case he saw pain in her eyes, she made it to the en suite and closed the door behind her.
    As he watched her go, the silky fabric of her dress clinging sensually to the shape of her lovely body, Javier’s brows met in a dark-as-the-devil frown. Was she criticising his lifestyle when he was supposed to be criticising hers?
    But her response had hit home, he recognised guiltily, remembering the times he’d persuaded his current lady to accompany his ward on those holidays he’d promised. Hardly setting a good example, dammit!
    Besides, his wild oats were sown. Uncommitted relationships had begun to pall and he’d been celibate for well over a year—but that was an irrelevance, hedismissed as he completed undressing down to his boxer shorts.
    What was important was the way she’d avoided answering his question.
    Which, in view of all he’d learned, was an answer in itself, he decided with mounting icy fury as he stalked over to one of the windows and stared out at the night, waiting for her to exit the bathroom.
    He was going to have to try harder to bring her back in line, make sure she didn’t ruin her life. Starting tomorrow.
    Â 
    Sleep had been impossible so he’d spent most of the night working in the office he’d set up here at Wakeham Lodge. Javier rasped a hand over his tough jawline and closed down his computer. It had been light for a couple of hours and the enticing aroma of coffee was beginning to filter through from the kitchen.
    He stood up edgily and walked to the window that overlooked the sun-drenched south lawn. His heart jerked. Zoe. Throwing a ball for Boysie. Laughing, long limbs dancing in the early-morning sunlight, long hair flowing down her back like a silky