‘Okay. Then—purely on the subject of logistics—I’d like to know how this arrangement is supposed to work when there’s only one bed?’
Sipping his champagne, he fixed her with a steady look. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s a very big bed.’
‘And you won’t be...’
‘Won’t be what?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘Tempted?’
‘To leap on you?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Oh, I’m one hundred per cent certain I’ll be tempted because you are an extremely beautiful woman and you blew my mind the other night. But I can resist anything when I put my mind to it, Amber. Even you.’
She put the glass down on the table and tucked her legs up neatly beneath her. It was a demure enough pose—but that didn’t stop his body jerking in response, nor prevent the sudden urgent desire to slide his fingers all the way up her silken thighs and to feel if she was wet for him. Was that why a sudden brief look burned between them and why she suddenly started shifting awkwardly on the chair, as if a colony of ants had crawled into her panties?
‘Well, we’re going to have to do something to pass the time.’ She glanced around. ‘And I haven’t noticed any board games.’
‘I don’t think you’ll find board games are the activity of choice in a world-famous honeymoon suite,’ he said drily.
‘So we might as well find out more about each other. A sort of getting-to-know-you session.’ She
fixed him with a bright smile. ‘It’ll come in useful if ever we’re forced to compete on one of those terrible Mr and Mrs TV shows, before we get our divorce finalised. I’ve told you plenty of stuff about me but you’re still one great big mystery, aren’t you, Conall?’
And that was the way he liked it. Conall drank some more champagne. Being enigmatic was a lifestyle choice. Keep people away and they couldn’t get close enough to cause you pain. Because pain meant you couldn’t think straight. It made you lash out and lose control. He’d lost control once—big time—and it had scared the hell out of him. It had almost ruined his life and he had vowed it would never happen again.
But you lost control with Amber the other night, didn’t you? You had sex with her even though you’d told yourself it wasn’t going to happen. You plunged deep into her body even though your head was screaming at you to withdraw. And you couldn’t. You were like a fly caught in her sticky web.
Briefly, he closed his eyes. The way she’d made him feel had been like nothing else he’d ever experienced—as if he’d been teetering on the brink of some dark abyss, about to dive straight in. If he’d had his way, he would have walked away and never seen her again.
But Amber was his wife now and that changed all the rules. He was with her for the duration and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. And they were holed up in this hotel with a self-imposed sex ban. What else were they going to do but talk? Surely he needed something to occupy his thoughts other than how much he’d like to rip that damned white dress from her body. He could always have her sign a confidentiality agreement when the time came to settle the divorce. And in the meantime, wasn’t there something liberating about for once not having to hide behind the barriers he had erected to stop women from getting too close?
‘So what do you want to know about me?’ he drawled. ‘Let me guess. Why I’ve never married before? That’s usually the number-one question of choice for women.’
‘Why are you so cynical, Conall?’
‘Maybe life has made me that way,’ he said mockingly. ‘Is it cynical to state the truth?’
Their gazes clashed. He thought her narrowed eyes looked like bright slithers of green glass in her pale face.
‘How come you and my father are so close?’
‘I told you. I used to work for him a long time ago.’
‘But that doesn’t explain the connection between you.’ She ran her fingertip around the rim of her champagne glass before shooting him another glance. ‘A connection which was intimate enough for him to ask you to take charge of my life. Why does he trust you so much, when there are very few people he does trust?’
Conall’s mouth hardened. ‘Because once he did me a big favour and I owe him.’
‘What kind of favour?’
Putting his glass down, he leaned back in the chair and cushioned his head on his clasped hands. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘I like long stories.’
Conall let his gaze drift over her. Maybe it was better to revisit the uncomfortable landscape of the past, than to sit here uncomfortably thinking about what a beautiful bride she made. ‘It started when I won a scholarship to your brother’s school,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’
She shook her head.
‘A full scholarship which enabled the illegitimate son of an Irish housekeeper to attend one of the finest schools in the country. It’s where I learnt to ride and to shoot.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘To behave like a true English gentleman.’
‘Except you aren’t, are you?’ she said slowly. ‘Not really.’