The Twelve-Month Marriage Deal by Margaret Mayo

dressing rooms as well. Vidal flung open the door to one that was totally empty. ‘Plenty of space for your belongings,’ he declared airily, and Elena noticed that her suitcases had already been brought up.
    She couldn’t help wondering, however, who had used it before her. Before her sister even. She couldn’t imagine Vidal living in this big space alone. Unless he used another bedroom when he was alone here? Maybe this one had been designed especially for when he took a bride. Or for when he entertained his lady friends! The thought of some other woman sharing that bed with him turned her stomach.
    ‘Shall we continue the grand tour?’
    Elena shrugged. ‘As you wish.’
    Her careless response dragged his brows together in a fierce frown. ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’
    And he sounded angry! Which didn’t surprise her considering that he had spent the night sleeping with her, but not touching her. How hard must that have been for him? Practically impossible, she guessed.
    And the next second she found out how impossibleit had been. ‘I cannot do this, Elena,’ he growled. ‘I know I promised, but you have no idea what you’re putting me through. I want you in my bed and in my arms! And if you’d only relax I believe you want me too.’
    Elena closed her eyes, trying to shut out the vision of Vidal’s face contorted with frustration. He was so right. She did want him. But she was scared now in case it happened again.
    In the end she was given no choice. Vidal’s arms were around her, his mouth taking possession of hers in a kiss that declared war. In a kiss that took her breath away and left her reeling. ‘Forget that this is a temporary marriage,’ he insisted. ‘Forget the barriers. Believe that I am your husband. Come to me. Give me your body, let me make love to you.’
    Elena did not answer; how could she when his mouth had returned to hers? When he was filling her with sensations that felt like electrical impulses? Her whole being had become intensely, magnificently alive. He had switched her on with the ease of a skilful lover.
    From deep within her throat came a sound of exquisite pleasure and she could not stop herself kissing him back, her lips parting willingly to allow his tongue the access he demanded. She heard the deep guttural groan deep down in his throat as he tasted and explored, his arms binding her to the hard strength of his body.
    Fireworks exploded inside her head, her hands clutching, her fingers threading through the wiry thickness of his hair. The scent of him in her nostrils nearly drove her crazy, and when she urged her body closer to his the force of his desire shocked her.
    Instead of pulling away, though, she allowed herselfto be carried along on a tide of passion. Feelings that she had never expected to experience where this man was concerned were blossoming and swelling and threatening to overtake her.
    It was like a roller-coaster ride of passion. The short heart-stopping ride to the first peak before a swift rush of adrenaline as she was plunged headlong into one electrifying experience after another.
    Each kiss, each touch of his fingers as he explored her breasts, finding the hard, sensitive nub of each one that sprang into life the second he touched her, each time she felt his hardness against her, all conspired to whisk her into a world where nothing was real, where senses were the order of the day. Into a world she had entered with no other man.
    There was no doubt about it. She wanted him to make love to her. And this time she vowed that nothing would stop her, not even her own built-in defences. She wanted this man with a fervour that should have shocked her but didn’t, a fervour that carried her along on a tide of emotion too big to deny.
    She therefore felt a sense of acute disappointment when he suddenly released her. How could he call a halt when he was the one who had started this? How could he deny what his body wanted? What both of their bodies