would resent him.
And yet, she was the one making advances.
She seemed to actually need this… need him.
Tabetha was putting him between a rock and a hard place—a painfully hard place.
If he resisted her, she would suspect their marriage wasn’t the safe harbor she believed, which, according to the doctor, could possibly harm her recovery. Thinking herself in love might be the one thing preventing her from flailing in despair.
He smoothed a hand down the gentle curve of her back.
He needed to provide her with just enough affection that she didn’t doubt she had a loving husband. A kiss here, a gentle caress there…
And as far as making love to her…
He wasn’t a randy youth. He could keep his urges in check.
And once her memory returned, he would explain that he’d simply played the part she had needed him to play. Essentially, he was merely following the doctor’s orders. That was it! Doctor’s orders.
“Rock?” She pulled away and licked her lips. They were sitting on a bed. She believed they were in love and newly married.
There was no mistaking her invitation.
“Doctor Finch.” Stone cleared his throat. “He advised against marital relations until…” He searched his mind. “For at least a week.”
That ought to buy him plenty of time. He’d have not only delivered her back to her family but likely she’d regain her memory by then.
An annulment must remain a viable resolution to their predicament.
She pouted prettily. “But I feel perfectly fine.” Twin vertical lines appeared between her eyes. Damn, he’d known she was beautiful, but to have her focus her charms on him sucked the air out of his lungs.
He grazed the backs of his fingers along her delicate cheek. “I refuse to compromise your health. No matter how much I want you.” This, at least, was true. Even if everything else was a lie.
Until she realized the true nature of their relationship, he’d do what he could to keep her from becoming upset.
Disappointment clouded her eyes. And something else… vulnerability.
He tipped her chin up so she had nowhere to look but at him. “Never doubt that I want you, though.”
He’d have thought she would blush and drop her lashes, but she met his gaze boldly. “I want you too. I’ll simply have to settle for more kisses over the next six days.” She grinned impishly. “And as your bride, I shall expect lots and lots of those.”
“Seven days,” he corrected her.
“Six and a half.”
God help him.
He leaned forward and claimed her vexing little mouth. He savored her sweet taste and perfume... distinctly woman. Hungry for more, he nipped at her bottom lip, and then her tongue, even clashing with her teeth. All the while, he cradled her cheeks in his hands. He could not explore her curves or test the weight of her breasts.
Blood roared through his brain and then… lower. How would she respond to a much more intimate kiss? Would she writhe beneath him? Would she clutch the sides of his head, begging for more?
Desire thrumming through his veins, Stone plundered her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers, and then past it, mimicking what he wanted to do between her legs.
She sighed, and moaned, her tiny hands clutching his wrists now. Damnation, but this was a tortured combination of heaven and hell. He never would have guessed that self-denial could arouse him to this extent.
Although, in truth, it wasn’t self-denial.
It was self-preservation.
Chapter 12
Jonquil and Primrose
Tabetha smoothed the coverlet. Rock had slept in the same bed with her again, he’d even held her for a while, and they’d kissed.
She fanned her hand in front of her face… Because…
Those kisses!
She frowned.
Afterward, he’d placed a pillow between the two of them, insistent that they hold firm to following Dr. Finch’s orders. She’d lain awake for what felt like hours before she’d been able to fall asleep.
Rock hadn’t allowed her to venture outside of her chamber yet, even to dine downstairs, adamantly maintaining that she needed quiet and rest.
Although he’d slipped outside a few times the previous day, he never abandoned her for long. They’d made the most of a deck of cards he’d purchased. He’d even tried to teach her how to play chess—a game that baffled her completely.
She glanced toward the door, the lock slid firmly in place. Her husband, who was inordinately protective of her, had insisted she only open the door for him. Surely, they would venture outside together after he returned.
Tabetha trailed her fingers along the bodice of her gown.
Apparently, she had lost her valise, along