choked sob and felt her shoulders shake convulsively.
The next thing she knew she was surrounded by strong arms, her face pressed into a broad, hard chest. Alex lay down next to her and cradled her with amazing gentleness, one hand going to stroke her hair like she was a frightened child as he held her.
Actually, she was frightened. Very frightened.
His comfort seemed to break the dam. She clung to him and let the tears flow freely, soaking the fine linen of his shirt, absorbing his intriguing scent, relishing the feel of his strong hands as he touched her lightly in comfort. She sniffled, she sobbed, and no amount of awareness on her part that it was the hated Alex Ramsey who held her could overcome her need for the feeling that someone, anyone, remotely cared about what happened to her.
Even him.
She cried until she was weak and utterly drained, and he held her and soothed with words, with the touch of his hands, until she felt herself slip into a welcome oblivion of exhausted sleep.
Chapter Four
Something smelled wonderful. It was a curious combination of fragrant flowers and fresh baked bread. Alex sighed, adjusting his position, wondering if he imagined it. It had happened often enough in Spain. Through the worst of it he’d often found himself dreaming of a comfortable bed and decent food.
Of a beautiful woman sleeping in his arms. Soft and sweet and utterly beguiling.
Slowly he opened his eyes.
This time, it was no dream. It was very much a reality.
All of it.
Bright sunlight lit the back of the drawn curtains, giving the room a soft amber glow. He lay, still fully clothed, on the big ornate bed that had once belonged to generations of Rowelands. Jessica was curled next to him like a kitten, her shapely backside nestled enticingly against his hips, her long, silky hair tickling his nose. She still slept soundly, breathing deeply and slowly, one slim hand tucked under her cheek. His right arm lay across her slender waist.
He’d obviously fallen asleep the night before holding her, something he’d had no intention of doing.
The worst part of it was that while her hair smelled lusciously like lilacs in the spring, the smell of fresh bread and hot tea came from a tray sitting by the side of the bed.
Which meant only one thing. It was no doubt late—very late—and the staff he’d hired had already arrived from London.
Jessica sighed and stirred in his arms.
Rolling away as abruptly as if she were on fire, and gaining his feet, Alex ignored both her sleepy murmur of loss and the twinge in his shoulder, shoving his hand hurriedly through his hair.
Jessica subsided back into slumber, her long lashes stark against her ivory cheeks. Lips slightly parted, her mouth looked moist and inviting. She was feminine and incredibly alluring even fully dressed, sprawled among the tumbled sheets, her gown twisted and her body relaxed. Small, dainty bare feet peeped out from under her skirts.
A sinking feeling of dismay twisted hard in his stomach. They’d slept together, in the same bed, all night long and for a good deal of the next day if the slanting rays of the sun he saw against the heavy drapes were any indication.
Damnation . His mind whirled.
At least one person had seen them that way, for someone had delivered the tray. Since there were two cups and two plates sitting next to the pot of tea, it had obviously been assumed that he and Jessica would share breakfast in the intimate setting of the bedroom.
Why wouldn’t it be assumed, he snarled inwardly with self-reproach. They were in bed together.
This damage wasn’t going to be easy to repair.
This was not at all what he intended when he could no longer bear the image of her desolate expression as she had turned and left the study, and he had foolishly yielded to the impulse to check on her. It would take a creature made of stone he quickly excused himself, to leave her sobbing alone in the dark and not at least offer comfort.
Comfort, yes. He gave
The next thing she knew she was surrounded by strong arms, her face pressed into a broad, hard chest. Alex lay down next to her and cradled her with amazing gentleness, one hand going to stroke her hair like she was a frightened child as he held her.
Actually, she was frightened. Very frightened.
His comfort seemed to break the dam. She clung to him and let the tears flow freely, soaking the fine linen of his shirt, absorbing his intriguing scent, relishing the feel of his strong hands as he touched her lightly in comfort. She sniffled, she sobbed, and no amount of awareness on her part that it was the hated Alex Ramsey who held her could overcome her need for the feeling that someone, anyone, remotely cared about what happened to her.
Even him.
She cried until she was weak and utterly drained, and he held her and soothed with words, with the touch of his hands, until she felt herself slip into a welcome oblivion of exhausted sleep.
Chapter Four
Something smelled wonderful. It was a curious combination of fragrant flowers and fresh baked bread. Alex sighed, adjusting his position, wondering if he imagined it. It had happened often enough in Spain. Through the worst of it he’d often found himself dreaming of a comfortable bed and decent food.
Of a beautiful woman sleeping in his arms. Soft and sweet and utterly beguiling.
Slowly he opened his eyes.
This time, it was no dream. It was very much a reality.
All of it.
Bright sunlight lit the back of the drawn curtains, giving the room a soft amber glow. He lay, still fully clothed, on the big ornate bed that had once belonged to generations of Rowelands. Jessica was curled next to him like a kitten, her shapely backside nestled enticingly against his hips, her long, silky hair tickling his nose. She still slept soundly, breathing deeply and slowly, one slim hand tucked under her cheek. His right arm lay across her slender waist.
He’d obviously fallen asleep the night before holding her, something he’d had no intention of doing.
The worst part of it was that while her hair smelled lusciously like lilacs in the spring, the smell of fresh bread and hot tea came from a tray sitting by the side of the bed.
Which meant only one thing. It was no doubt late—very late—and the staff he’d hired had already arrived from London.
Jessica sighed and stirred in his arms.
Rolling away as abruptly as if she were on fire, and gaining his feet, Alex ignored both her sleepy murmur of loss and the twinge in his shoulder, shoving his hand hurriedly through his hair.
Jessica subsided back into slumber, her long lashes stark against her ivory cheeks. Lips slightly parted, her mouth looked moist and inviting. She was feminine and incredibly alluring even fully dressed, sprawled among the tumbled sheets, her gown twisted and her body relaxed. Small, dainty bare feet peeped out from under her skirts.
A sinking feeling of dismay twisted hard in his stomach. They’d slept together, in the same bed, all night long and for a good deal of the next day if the slanting rays of the sun he saw against the heavy drapes were any indication.
Damnation . His mind whirled.
At least one person had seen them that way, for someone had delivered the tray. Since there were two cups and two plates sitting next to the pot of tea, it had obviously been assumed that he and Jessica would share breakfast in the intimate setting of the bedroom.
Why wouldn’t it be assumed, he snarled inwardly with self-reproach. They were in bed together.
This damage wasn’t going to be easy to repair.
This was not at all what he intended when he could no longer bear the image of her desolate expression as she had turned and left the study, and he had foolishly yielded to the impulse to check on her. It would take a creature made of stone he quickly excused himself, to leave her sobbing alone in the dark and not at least offer comfort.
Comfort, yes. He gave
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