of sarcasm. “We appreciate your…good wishes. You two can leave now. My…wife and I would like to be alone.”
Robbie shook his head. “No way. We’ve got to make sure this marriage starts off right.”
Ellie didn’t know what he was talking about and at this point she didn’t care. She felt completely drained. This night that she’d so looked forward to had turned into a nightmare. The only good thing about it was that it couldn’t possibly get any worse…
“You two need a wedding night.” Robbie sat down on a chair and used the gun to motion the couple toward Ellie’s bedroom. “And I’m goingto make sure you get it.”
Inside the bedroom, the newlyweds stared at each other for a long moment.
Ellie broke the silence first. “So what do we do now?”
He shrugged. “Go to bed.” He sat down on the mattress and lay back, watching her. “I hope you don’t snore.”
She stared at him. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a light sleeper and snoring keeps me awake—”
“Not about that.” She waved her hand impatiently. “I mean about spending the night here. Together.”
He put his hands behind his head. “I don’t see that we have much choice.”
“Are you crazy? We do have a choice. We can wait until Robbie falls asleep. Or we can try to go through the window—”
“Too dangerous. I have no desire to risk waking your trigger-happy cousin, or to get shot in the rear as I try to shimmy out the window.” He dismissed her plans with a yawn, then patted the mattress beside him. “Come to bed…wife.”
Ellie couldn’t stop staring at him. Was he insane? She knew he was angry. Why wasn’t he yelling at her? Why was he pretending this marriage was real? “Garek, stop fooling around.”
“Who’s fooling?” In one swift, graceful motion, he rose to his feet and crossed the room to where she still stood by the door. He put his hands on the wooden panel on either side of her head and bent down to touch his mouth lightly to hers. “We have all night—let’s make the most of it.”
His mouth closed over hers, and she forgot to think. The attraction that she’d tried to deny flared up immediately, swamping her brain with Technicolor emotions, flooding her body with fluorescent sensations.
She responded blindly, instinctively. His arms came around her, hers curled around his neck. His grip on her tightened; then suddenly, he lifted her and carried her across the room.
He laid her gently on the bed, still kissing her, pulling off his coat and shirt and quickly unbuttoning her blouse. His warm hand cupped the curve of her breast.
Air grated in her lungs. She felt as though she were on fire. His kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative or kind or respectful. Instead, it was hungry, carnal, overwhelming, unstoppable. His mouth pulled on hers, as if trying to suck the very soul out of her, so he could take possession of it, take possession of her…
She broke away, gasping for air. “Stop,” she panted. “We can’t do this…”
He kissed the line of her throat, down to the curves of her lace-covered breasts. His fingers undid the button of her skirt, and eased down the zipper, spreading the fabric to expose a scrap of silk and a line of lace. “Why not? You got what you wanted, didn’t you? Marriage to Chicago’s Most Eligible Bachelor…”
The sarcasm in his voice broke through the haze threatening to envelope her. What was he talking about? Did the conceited jerk really think she wanted this? That she wanted to marry him, a man who was using her to punish his sister?
She pushed at his shoulders.
He resisted. His fingers teased under the line of lace, pausing to splay across the indentation between her hip and abdomen, before drifting lower still…
Flattening her palms against his chest, she shoved harder.
With a curse, he rolled away. She scrambled onto her knees, ready to flee the bed if he made any move toward her. But he didn’t. He lay there, his breathing harsh, his arm thrown over his eyes. His whole aspect was one of pain.
The frantic racing of her heart slowed. Uncertainty trickled through her. She touched his arm tentatively. “Garek?”
He stiffened under her touch. He lowered his arm and looked at her, his eyes cold and hard. “Next time you plan to trap a man into marriage,” he said, his voice like shards of glass, “make sure you have the guts to go through with it.”