‘I’m sure you won’t have any trouble eating my share. Or Alastair will help.’ And then she caught the way Alastair was looking at her. ‘G-goodnight.’

And she fled.

Which left Alastair sitting with her sisters and brother. Who were all looking at him with an air of bright expectancy.

And he couldn’t disappoint them. Could he?

‘I guess I’ll turn in, too,’ he said, and they beamed their approval. After all, this was how honeymoons were supposed to proceed.

Help!

But he left anyway. How could he not?

Because Rose was waiting.


This bedroom arrangement was impossible.

When he got back to their cottage, Rose was already in the bathroom. She was running a bath, so there was nothing for Alastair to do but to lie on the bed and listen to her wallowing in the vast white tub.

He could imagine her so vividly she might as well have left the door open. He knew how it would be…

The bathroom was a tiny walled patio with three sheltered walls and the fourth side open to the sea. The bathtub was sunk into the decking. It had two soft headrests, and it was designed so lovers could lie side by side. They could soak in the warm water and watch the moon over the sea.

Only…one side would be empty, Alastair thought. His side. The other side would have Rose.

Rose…

He let his imagination wander. Lovely, naked Rose, slippery with soap suds, lying back, letting the salt and sand wash away from her gorgeous body. Penny-Rose lying alone in a bath built for two…

Rose! Not Penny-Rose.

Stop thinking like this! You’ll go stark, staring crazy-if you’re not already, he said desperately to himself, and took himself out for a walk.

Where could he go? If he walked around the cottage and down to their secluded cove, he’d be able to look up and see…

No. Damn, he was turning into a peeping Tom!

He strode deliberately back up to the management lodge where the kids were setting up a game of cards. From the darkness he could see them out on the verandah, laughing as they played some silly game of snap.

He couldn’t go there. What would he say?

‘Can I play, too? Your sister’s taking a bath and it’s driving me nuts!’

They’d think he was nuts. They were such nice kids. And they thought he was in love with their sister.

Which was nonsense. He wasn’t in love with anyone.

But he was definitely in lust with her.

That was it. He’d found the answer. Only lust. He just wanted her body. He was as aroused as he’d ever been in his life, and the fact that she was a virgin bride…

She was his virgin bride.

She wasn’t his anything. And she had to stay a virgin, he told himself desperately. Hell, wasn’t that why he’d married her? Because he didn’t want commitment? So it had to stay that way. The last thing he wanted was to make it hard for her to walk away.

But was he sure about what he wanted?

He knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want commitment.

In fact, he didn’t want marriage. He’d agreed to marry Belle because his mother had wanted grandchildren, he’d quite liked the idea of kids, he’d needed a hostess and the whole thing had been sensible. That was a decent basis for a marriage. Sense.

Not lust.

So he should walk right back to his cottage, settle down on the far side of the pile of cushions and go straight to sleep.

But…he just might take a cold shower first.


A cold shower didn’t help.

Alastair returned to the cottage to find Rose glowing from the warmth of the bath. She was wearing one of those damned lingerie-type nightdresses she’d bought in Paris and she was curled into her half of the bed with the sheet drawn up to her waist.

The sheet wasn’t drawn up far enough. The nightgown was cut low over her lovely curving breasts, her curls were sprayed out over the pillow-and it was as much as he could do not to groan.

So he stood under the cold shower for a very long time. When he emerged she was lying in the half-dark. Only his bedside light was on. She was still awake, smiling up at him in the dim light as he walked around to his side of the bed.

And heaven only knew how heavy his feet felt. It was so darned hard to make himself walk around her.

This was crazy!

‘Feeling better?’ she whispered, and he managed a nod.

‘Yes. Thanks.’ But he’d lied.

‘It’s been the most gorgeous day,’ she said sleepily as he slid down under the sheet-still on his side. ‘Thank you, Alastair.’

‘Think nothing of it.’ That sounded curt. He forced himself to smile, and then flicked off the light so he wouldn’t need to hide his expression. But he could still see the curves of her in the moonlight. She was too damned close! ‘I enjoyed myself, too.’

‘You’d never seen yourself as a swimming master extraordinaire?’

‘There’s a whole lot of things I’d never seen myself as,’ he said bitterly. ‘A prince. A swimming master-’

‘A husband?’

‘The kids think it’s real,’ he burst out, and there was surely the nub of the matter. If no one thought it was real, he wouldn’t have to pretend. It was the pretence that was driving him crazy-wasn’t it?

‘They do,’ she said softly. ‘Do you mind?’

‘I… No. Only if you do,’ he managed. ‘It’ll make it harder at the end of the year.’

‘Alastair, let’s worry about the end of the year at the end of the year. For now…this is the honeymoon of my dreams. The holiday of my dreams. I’ve learned to swim five strokes. I’m here with my sisters and brother-and with you. I couldn’t be any happier if I tried.’

He could be. He could be a whole lot happier. All he had to do was shift these damned cushions!

He had to stay formal. Somehow. ‘I’m glad you’re having a good time.’

‘I’m having a wonderful time.’ And then, before he knew what she was about, she slipped her hand under the pillows and found his hand. Her fingers were warm and sure as she pulled his hand toward her, and then she raised his hand to her lips and gently kissed his fingertips.

It was a gesture of thanks. Nothing more. Wasn’t it?

‘This is magic,’ she said softly. ‘A magic day. A magic prince.’

‘It’ll end.’ He somehow managed to haul his hand away, and it nearly tore him apart to do it. His voice came out as a sort of strangled croak. ‘After all, Cinderella had her midnight to contend with. Your midnight is just taking a while longer to come.’

‘I won’t forget.’ Her voice was suddenly serious, but she was still whispering into the dark. The sensation was unutterably intimate. ‘Alastair, why are you so afraid of commitment?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’ He heard her smile in her voice. ‘You’re just a great big chicken.’

He drew in his breath. How to answer that one?

With the truth. ‘I’d rather be a chicken than a squashed hen.’

‘There’s a brave prince.’ She chuckled. ‘Is that your royal creed? “He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.’”

‘It has a whole lot going for it.’ It was surreal. Lying in the dark, talking to her as if nothing was between them.

Only these damned cushions!

‘Seriously, though…’

‘Seriously what?’

‘Why don’t you let yourself love…Belle?’

Because I’ve never been the least bit tempted to love Belle, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Whereas you…

But he had to give her a reasonable answer. An answer he thought was the truth. ‘I’ve told you before. I don’t do love.’

‘Because you might get hurt?’ Her voice was carefully neutral.

‘Because I will get hurt. Eventually. Or you…or Belle would. Nothing lasts for ever.’

‘So…’ She’d forgotten to whisper. Her voice was curious now. Nothing more. ‘So when you’re designing buildings, you’re planning on them lasting a thousand years?’ she asked.

‘Like your fences?’ He smiled into the dark. ‘Nope. You’re the master builder in that direction.’

‘So how long would a building of yours last-on average, say?’

He didn’t understand what she was getting at. ‘I’d like to think a hundred years.’ He shrugged. ‘But probably only forty. Maybe less.’

‘But you still think it’s worthwhile building them.’

Damn. He’d walked straight into her trap. And the cushions weren’t high enough!

‘Buildings are different,’ he managed.

‘I imagine they are,’ she said softly. ‘Different to relationships. But in some ways they’re the same. If they only last for forty years they can still be incredibly wonderful while they last.’ She frowned then, and he heard the frown in the dark. He was starting to know her so well…

‘You lost Lissa,’ she said gently. ‘You said she was your best friend. Today you told me about teaching her to swim when you were kids. If you had your time again, would you choose not to have that time with her? Because she might die?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ She was cutting too close to the bone here.

‘I’m just interested.’

‘Well, stop being interested. Go to sleep.’

Ha! That was a good one. How could they possibly sleep?

‘I don’t think you’re being fair on Belle-that’s all.’ She was still probing, right where it hurt most. ‘I think marriage is all about loving someone to bits.’

‘Like your father’s and mother’s marriage?’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘At least they took a chance,’ she said, and now she sounded angry. ‘At least they tried. They didn’t lock themselves up in some antiseptic world in case the big bad love-bug bit them so hard it hurt. So, yes, they loved and, yes, it did hurt. My mother made a bad marriage but she had four kids and she had a life. And she loved my dad to bits, even if he was a loser. She loved him and even when she knew she was dying, I suspect she never regretted a thing.’

‘Apart from leaving you all.’