Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Ten

'You were leaving without saying goodbye!' Freya's voice was a husky accusation as she stood in the breakfast- room doorway, fastening the belt of her fine voile robe around her narrow waist. And Theo looked up from the breakfast-table, his smile lazy, and his azure eyes incredibly sexy.

'Not so. I would have come to wake you before I left.' He put his morning paper aside. 'Shall I ring for Mary to bring your breakfast through?'

'No, thanks.' Freya pushed a hand through her rumpled silvery hair and sat opposite, helping herself to a bit of crisp bacon from his plate, eating it from her fingers. She didn't want anyone to intrude, not even Mary, who was one of the most unobtrusive people she knew; she wanted Theo to herself. Never again could she affect to be cool towards this husband of hers. She loved him so much.

Her only regret was that she couldn't tell him so. He had married her because it was convenient to do so, no other reason. That she had proved to be as sexually eager as he, would, to his logical masculine mind have proved a bonus. To admit her love, would embarrass him. He wouldn't want the responsibility of it.

He was looking good, very good, his dark hair, still damp from the shower he must have taken earlier, clinging to his skull, and his deep tan contrasting dramatically with the stark whiteness of his shirt. Her fingers ached to touch him. Every morning when she had wakened from luxurious sleep she had reached out for him and he had woken, turning to her, nuzzling her hair and then lazily, languorously, they had made love.

Not this morning, though. It was their first back in London because he'd said, 'What the hell!' contacted Dylan Dexter and informed that they were taking another week, staying on the island. And this morning she had reached for him and he hadn't been there. Just an empty space between cool sheets and she'd panicked, remembering he'd said he'd be going to the City today.

Stumbling out of bed, she'd grabbed at her robe, struggling into it as she'd run down the stairs, not wanting him to leave before she'd had a chance to see him, simply see him.

Now, relaxed again because she was with him, she reached for his coffee-cup, cradling it in both hands, sipping while he finished his bacon and eggs, and he asked, 'What are you going to do with yourself today?

Freya hunched one shoulder, her mouth curving in a warm, slow smile. 'Go shopping?' she hazarded. For some reason, Theo had suggested she take a further week off. She would have preferred to be behind her desk again, close to him, working with him. But he had insisted and she wasn't up to arguing with him about it, about anything, not in this mood of euphoria she wasn't. A dark eyebrow lifted and she elaborated, 'I might get a new dress.' She felt in the mood for celebrating, and buying something exciting would serve. That her ever-deepening love for him just caused for celebrating she couldn't explain, not yet, so she tacked on, 'We're entertaining the Anderson's on Thursday, so I need to pull out all the stops!

She expected him to comment on the planned dinner party. Sir George Anderson was chairman of Anderson Developments, a company that was climbing fast and far, and Theo had been angling for their account. Thursday night could well clinch it. But he growled, leaning over the table to take his coffee-cup from her hands, 'Do you intend to consume all my breakfast, woman?' and he drank the remains, then refilled the cup, took a mouthful then put the steaming cup back between her hands. 'Henpecked already,' he grinned and she nodded sagely, as if she quite agreed, although she knew that henpecked was the last thing this man would ever be. But their developing relationship admitted this type of gentle teasing and she welcomed it, as she welcomed everything about him.

'Do you know how irresistible you look in that thing?' Lazy eyes swept her, the soft movement of his mouth adding lustful emphasis to the drift of his eyes as they roamed from the spun silver disorder of her hair, her flushed cheeks, the slope of her shoulders, to the swelling roundness of her breasts.

The robe she had pulled on was meant to be worn over a matching nightdress. Worn over nothing at all, its pink transparency was little more than a blush, and Freya's pulses quickened as the sensual curve of his mouth became more pronounced, his voice a growly inspiration as he whispered, 'Irresistible enough to take you back to bed and let Dylan Dexter look after itself.'

For a silent, timeless moment their eyes held, the intimacy almost shocking, and she thought he might just do that, but then she saw the change, he had moved away from her, and she knew as if she could ever have doubted it that work would always take first place for him.

She unwillingly respected him for that, she decided, watching as he shot a glance at his watch. The most she could hope for was that in time she would become as necessary to him as he was to her.

He stood up, reaching for the light grey suit jacket which had been hanging over the back of his chair, shrugging into it, his movements, as ever, sheer male elegance. And Freya got to her feet, too, longing to go to him to slip her arms beneath the beautiful jacket and feel the warmth of muscle, but she wouldn't do that, of course. She couldn't give herself that luxury. and his mind was now geared to the working day ahead; he wouldn't welcome an untimely display of her physical need of him. It might annoy him, and it would certainly reveal the depth of her emotional involvement.

He picked up his briefcase and she lifted her face to receive his goodbye kiss, an unsatisfying brush of his lips over hers, and she expected that to be that, but he stood for a moment, smiling down at her, making her heart tumble about beneath her ribs.

Then he touched the side of her face with a slow-moving finger and his eyes were soft.

'I'll give you lunch at Clipstone. One o'clock.'

Freya had finished dressing and was half-way down the stairs when Mary came out of the kitchen.

'There's a phone call for you, madam. Sam Dexter.'

'Thanks, Mary, I'll take it in the study.'

Freya responded warmly to the housekeeper's smile. Mary's devotion to Theo had lapped over on her, and the older woman asked, 'Shall I bring your breakfast through, madam? How about a nice boiled egg—free-range and fresh?' she tempted.

Freya shook her head, admitting, 'I finished off the toast Theo couldn't eat, thanks,' and was aware of Mary's disapproval as she went to take that call, wondering why Sam had bothered to contact her. He certainly wouldn't be inquiring about her health they had never got on very well together.

'Freya?' His voice sounded harsh and tinny. 'Thank God you're back. I was afraid you and Theo might have skived off for yet another week. How soon can you get here?'

His urgency worried her and she asked quickly, 'What's wrong? Not Uncle Charles?'

But Sam snapped, 'He's fine. Just get here. Leo's been round, making unpleasant demands. We can't discuss it on the phone. Just get here.'