The Society Wife by India Grey

Author:India Grey
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2009-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

Tristan came back in the early afternoon, bringing a blast of crisp autumn air into the warm room as well as several expensive-looking carrier bags. Dropping them by the door, he sauntered over to the bed, slipping off his jacket as he did so and throwing it onto a chair.

Dozing in bed with Don Quixote, Lily felt her stomach instantly melt with desire. It was as if in the short amount of time he’d been out she’d already forgotten how incredibly handsome he was.

Incredibly handsome, and incredibly…powerful. His presence filled the room, changing the atmosphere from one of peaceful languor to that peculiar kind of sinister stillness that preceded a thunderstorm.

‘What are you reading?’

‘Don Quixote,’ she muttered, feigning sudden interest in page thirty seven, which she’d already attempted to read about four times that morning. Anything to avoid having to confront his raw, menacing beauty.

He gave a short, scornful laugh. ‘How appropriate. The ultimate romantic idealist.’

Lily put the book down, bending her head so that he wouldn’t see the hurt on her face. ‘You’ve been gone ages,’ she said lightly, simply trying to make conversation, but as soon as she’d said the words she regretted them. He turned, pacing moodily back towards the bags he had left by the door.

‘It was business,’ he said tersely. ‘I had a meeting that I couldn’t miss.’ The words were innocuous enough but tension screamed from every line of his lean body as he scooped up the bags and tossed them onto the bed beside her. ‘I stopped on the way home to pick these up for you.’

Hesitantly Lily reached out and pulled the first bag towards her. It was made of the sort of stiff, shiny card that would make Scarlet swoon with delight and as she glanced tentatively inside all she could see was tissue paper. It crackled like the static she could feel in the air as she pulled out the delicate parcel.

‘What is it?’

He came towards her, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt with sharp, stabbing movements. Lily felt her breath stall.

‘Have a look.’

She wanted to, but that meant tearing her eyes away from the strip of olive skin that was being revealed at his throat. Blindly her fingers fumbled with the paper, until they met cool, slippery satin. She looked down.

The dress was the colour of old ivory, or bone. For a moment she just gazed down at it lying against her bare legs, looking almost incongruously expensive and precious in the rumpled chaos of the bed.

‘Tristan, it’s beautiful…but why?’

A guilt present? Had the meeting that was so important been with one of his women…his mistresses? That would explain the dangerous tension that lay just beneath the surface, and the glitter in his eyes.

‘Because you didn’t get your white dress yesterday.’

Lily felt her eyes sting with the threat of sudden tears. He had done it again. Every time she just about convinced herself that she could live by his cold rules and keep her own treacherous feelings hidden he brought her resolve crashing down by doing something unexpectedly, unfairly lovely.

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