Filed to story: A Matter of Sin and Love Novel Read Free Online
Fear skidded down her spine. She didn’t do lust. Not like this. And not with a man like Christian Edwards.
He smiled as she approached and the pale scar on one side of his face disappeared into the groove running up his cheek. Just like that white heat shimmered through her feminine core. She blinked, stumbling a little on an uneven flagstone, and reminded herself she was too furious to feel attraction.
Nevertheless, she wished she’d taken time to hunt out a pair of heels so she didn’t have to tilt her chin to look at him.
‘Elena, you’re looking particularly vibrant today.’
‘Vibrant?’ She shook her head. ‘The word is angry.’
‘It suits you.’ His smile didn’t falter. If anything he looked satisfied. But despite the smile there was something guarded about his expression. His eyes held secrets.
Not surprising, given the games he played. She’d give an awful lot to know what they were.
What made him tick? What was he after? For the life of her she couldn’t believe a man like Christian Edwards really wanted to marry one of George Morrison’s daughters. Especially her, the prosaic, sensible, not-a-glamorous-bone-in-her-body one.
She stiffened. This wasn’t about her. It was about saving Fuzz and Rob.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Of course. Come through.’ He stepped back and gestured for her to enter.
She strode past him into a wide circular foyer. Her staccato steps petered out as her gaze caught on the perfect curving lines of the staircase to the upper floor. Delicate wrought iron formed a balustrade featuring wood nymphs and fauns dancing up the steps. Pure art deco whimsy.
Elena took a step closer, entranced despite her fury.
Then from behind came the thud of the heavy front doors closing her in. The hairs on her nape stood up and a frisson of anxiety resonated through her.
Ridiculous. She was here because she needed to have this out with him, face to face.
‘This way.’ Christian was beside her, leading the way towards a sitting room that featured views across a terrace and in-ground pool to the Pacific Ocean beyond.
Elena didn’t budge. ‘This won’t take long.’ She planted her feet.
He swung around, eyebrows silently rising. ‘You look very combative.’
‘You’re not surprised.’
He shrugged and walked back to where she stood in the centre of the circular foyer. ‘I know you’re a volatile woman.’
Elena snorted. Volatile? She was the stable one of the family. The one who never had tantrums. The one who quietly got on with whatever needed to be done. Before she left home it had been she, not her father or older sister, who made sure the housekeeper and gardener received their instructions and their pay.
‘I’m not volatile. I’m justifiably annoyed. There’s a difference.’ She breathed deep, feeling indignation well. ‘Or will you decide my reaction is due to the fact I’m female?’ That had always been one of her father’s favourite put-downs.
Christian raised his hands as if in surrender. Yet the spark in those dark blue eyes told her he was enjoying himself too much to give in.
‘I’m a lot of things, Elena. But not sexist.’
He was far closer than she liked. Too close. Her stomach gave a betraying wobble.
She swallowed hard as the aroma of rich coffee and warm male skin enveloped her. It was as if her body was absorbed in a different conversation than the one coming out of her mouth. A conversation that was about heat and desire and that phantom ache down deep in her womb.
She didn’t know how to combat it. Creating distance between them was the obvious option but she wouldn’t let him see even a hint of fear. She’d learned young that revealing weakness only made things worse.
‘I want to know what’s going on.’
‘Well, since you opted to come here rather than to Bennelong Point, I’ve arranged for us to share lunch on the terrace.’
Had she ever met anyone so coolly sure of himself? So infuriating? He cast even her father into the shade with his supreme self-confidence.
Yet, despite her annoyance, Elena didn’t get the same feeling from Christian as she did from her father, who so blatantly exulted in triumphing over others. Christian was manipulating her yet she didn’t feel bullied. More…challenged.
Which showed how dangerous was this undercurrent of attraction humming in her veins. It tempted her to put a pretty gloss on Christian’s outrageous demands.
Elena crossed her arms, glaring. ‘I didn’t come here for lunch.’
‘You need to look after yourself. You didn’t stop for breakfast, did you?’ Christian took a step closer and suddenly the spacious two-storey room shrank around them. Elena breathed deeper, needing oxygen. ‘You were still in bed when I rang.’ The glint in his dark eyes reminded her of his teasing as she lay naked in bed, and heat drilled down through her belly.
Elena stiffened, ignoring the telltale flush rising in her throat and cheeks.
‘I want the truth. You don’t need to marry George Morrison’s daughter. The idea of marriage to cement closer business ties doesn’t wash. You’re the one my father needs, not the other way around. Why are you playing along with the idea?’
For a millisecond Christian’s eyes widened, giving her a glimpse of surprise in a flash of indigo that rivalled the ocean’s brilliance. Then his eyelids lowered and his gaze became unreadable.
Ella’s breathing quickened. There was something there. Something she’d said, something he didn’t expect her to know. But what? She racked her brain but she’d only stated the obvious. She could find no significance there.
Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she’d inadvertently hit on something important.
‘Things aren’t always as clear-cut as they seem.’ Christian paused. ‘Your father’s proposal has definite advantages.’
Elena jammed her hands on her hips. ‘What advantages? Name one.’
In answer Christian’s eyes skated down, past the warm blush in her throat, over her loose-fitting top, lightweight trousers and flat sandals.
She’d dressed for comfort rather than sophistication. Her floaty aqua and silver top was a favourite. Now, under Christian’s trawling stare, Elena had a qualm that it had somehow suddenly become transparent. Surely his gaze grazed her skin, following every curve the material should have hidden. As if he already knew her intimately.
Already. The word was a promise she couldn’t dislodge from her brain.
Ella’s body came alive, just as it had last night. She’d told herself that had been an illusion created by tiredness and stress. But she didn’t feel tired now. She felt wired, waves of energy ripping through her, awakening every nerve ending.
She jutted her jaw. ‘You don’t have to marry me to get sex.’
‘Why, Ella—’ his eyes gleamed with a banked heat and his mouth curved in a slow smile that turned her insides to mush ‘—that’s quite an offer. I’m charmed and delighted.’
For one insane moment she almost smiled back, till her brain processed his words.