Chapter 11
Everything was too bright. It felt as if someone was jabbing a pointed scalpel at the back of her eyes. There was someone else, possibly the same person, striking a hammer against her temples and she could not open her eyes. For one horrifying moment, she thought she had gone blind.
But then she managed to pry her eyelids open, only to be faced with the sun streaming through the thin curtains.
And she was completely naked. Sitting up against the pillows, she pressed a hand against her chest to stop the roiling of her stomach and must have uttered a moan, because it had Jordan rushing towards the bed.
"Hi." His grin made her want to slap it away, but she was too weak for any kind of physical activity.
"I'm dying and I'm naked. Before you call the coroners, I would like you to put some clothes on me. I might be dying, but I still have my pride."
His grin widened as he handed her the cup of coffee.
"You're not dying."
"But I am naked, right?" She accepted the cup and wrapped her hands around it. Taking a swallow, she yelped as it burned her tongue. "Now I am definitely dying."
Taking the cup from her, he set it aside and pulled the covers up over her breasts.
"You never told me you have such a light head."
She shot him an accusing look. "You got me drunk."
"Babe, you had two glasses of wine, possibly three."
The endearment had her heart tumbling all over – all the way to her feet.
Clearing her throat, she looked away from him and focused at a point over his left shoulder.
"You should have stopped me."
"I did." Taking her hand, he wrapped her fingers around the cup. "You were asking for a fourth glass and I cut you off." Jordan chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. "You know, I did try to warn you about the wine. But you seemed so determined."
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to muster some form of indignation despite her pounding headache. "Determined to what? Embarrass myself?"
"Determined to have a good time," he replied gently. "And you did. We did."
"I don't remember much about last night," she admitted, sinking deeper into the pillows and the warmth of the covers. "Except that you were there, and…" she trailed off, unsure of how to continue.
"And we had fun," he finished for her, his tone tender. "No regrets?"
Her lips curled into a reluctant smile. "Regrets? Maybe just the wine. But everything else…" Her voice softened. "…everything else was good."
Jordan's eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and something deeper, almost affectionate. "I'm glad you feel that way. It's the first time I've seen you let go, just a little."
She sighed, closing her eyes to the bright sunlight and the sharp pain behind her eyelids. "Letting go is overrated. Especially when you end up with a hangover."
"How about some painkillers?"
"The entire bottle?" She asked hopefully, making him laugh.
"Three will do." Rising, he went into the bathroom to get the bottle and brought it back with a glass of water.
"Take these and then finish the coffee."
"Uhm, I thought you would have left. I remember you saying something about going to the office."
"I wanted to wait until you were up." He did not add that he had been up and doing some work as he watched her sleep.
He had slipped into the role of husband and protector seamlessly and was loving it.
Last night had been wonderful, mind blowing and potent and he could not wait to get his hands all over her again.
But for now, he was going to have to restrain himself.
She was sending him wary looks, even though she assured him she had no regrets.
And he had no idea where he stood with her.
"What are your plans?"
"To do some catching up." She was almost finished with the coffee and the painkillers were kicking in. She did not feel like death warmed over, not so much. "I am behind, and my agent keeps calling me."
"Was he aware you were on your honeymoon? And speaking of that, why wasn't he invited?"
"He was on a retreat – one he could not get out of." She handed him the empty cup. "Thanks. I should shower and get dressed."
"Why don't you stay in bed for a little bit? I was thinking we could go out and have dinner later. How about it?"
She gripped the sheets over her breasts and heaved out a sigh. "We should talk."
"About?"
"This. Us. What's happening." She avoided his eyes and started pleating the cotton.
Tilting her chin up, he forced her to look at him. "I want this to be a real marriage."
When she jerked, he swore softly. "That cannot come as a surprise to you. It was heading in that direction. We made love without using anything for Christ's sake. Surely you're not telling me that you believe that this is just an arrangement." His fingers tightened when she started to pull away.
"That was not the plan."
"Plans change." He tugged her face up. "I want more." He shook his head when she opened her mouth. "I want to be your husband in every way. And I am sure you want that too."
Her eyes flashed. "Don't presume to know what I want."
"Then tell me." His deep voice was quiet and patient and sent her heart tumbling.
"I don't know." She lied.
"I don't believe you."
"Look--"
"We went into this with other things in mind. You wanted revenge against my family, and I wanted to break free from the life they had planned for all of us."
"So, you married a black woman – one who is the daughter of a maid to piss them off."
"It started that way and now--" His touch gentled. "Now, it's not about them. It's about us. I want a family with you darling."
Her breath caught as she stared into his earnest eyes. Vulnerability washed over her, mingling with the lingering doubt. The walls she had so carefully erected threatened to crumble under his unyielding gaze.
"Why now?" she breathed. "Why are you talking about this now?"
"Because I can't pretend anymore," he said softly, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I can't act like this is just a convenient arrangement when my heart is screaming for more."
Her heart pounded in response, a dangerous rhythm that echoed his sentiments. Could she trust this? Could she believe in the sincerity of his words when everything they started with was tainted by ulterior motives?
"I need time," she whispered, the plea barely audible.
He nodded; his expression serious but understanding. "Take all the time you need. Just know that I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
She offered him a tentative smile, a fragile peace offering. "Dinner sounds good."
His face brightened, relief pouring into his features. "Great. We can talk more then."
With a gentle kiss on her forehead, he rose with the intention of preparing for the day.
"Will you sleep in?"
"I just might."
He nodded his approval as he headed towards the closet. "I need to get the rest of my stuff from the manor."
"Your parents--"
"Yes?" He turned on his way to the bathroom. "What about them?"
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "They hate me. At least your mother does, and I can't say I'm too keen on her myself."
His expression turned grim. "Leave my family to me. I'll take care of it."
"Okay." She watched him stride into the bathroom, leaving the door open and realized that they had very well fallen into a pattern.
One that had started while they were on the cruise.
He was very attentive to her, catering to her needs.
He had even agreed to live here, at what was now her place and spent his own money to fix it up.
She glanced around the room, admiring the furnishings.
The armoire was a glossy pale golden wood that looked great with the new wallpaper.
The rugs were ones she would have picked out herself.
There was still her apartment to deal with.
But she would keep it for now. He might think they were going to have a happy ever after ending, but she knew better.
With a sigh, she slid back down and closed her eyes. The sound of him showering had a soothing effect on her and very soon, she fell asleep.
He came out a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around him to find her snoring slightly.
Walking forward, he could not resist, sitting on the edge of the bed and studying her face. The sheets had slipped down slightly, exposing her pert breasts. Avoiding looking at them, he focused on her face and smiled. Her hair was a tangled mess, something she had not noticed when she woke up.
She was so unlike the women in his society. He had been with several of them and the most important thing to them was 'putting on their faces' as soon as they opened their eyes.
His wife had no such hangups. She did not care that she wasn't wearing makeup or that her hair was messy.
Moving the lock of hair from her forehead, he let his touch linger.
So far, she had not said no to his suggestion.
He might have to work harder at proving that they belonged together, but he had time and hopefully the patience to work on it.
One thing he knew was that he was not letting her go. He wanted her in his life for the rest of it.
He gently pulled the sheets back up to cover her, ensuring her comfort without disturbing her sleep. As he dressed, his thoughts drifted to the many hurdles they had faced together. Their bond had grown stronger, despite the challenges posed by his family and their differing backgrounds.
He paused for a moment, contemplating the day's tasks. His parents' disapproval weighed heavily on him, but he was determined to protect her from their judgment. After all, she was worth fighting for.
Quietly, he left the room, taking care not to wake her.
The fresh morning air greeted him as he stepped out, ready to tackle the day with renewed resolve.
His first stop would be the manor, to retrieve his belongings and confront his family.
It was time to make it clear that his life with her was non-negotiable.