Riley’s Billionaire Page 5

  Chapter Five

  Riley was tired. She kicked off her shoes and placed them in the closet Jack showed her was hers. So many rows of empty shelves and rows of hangers without clothes. She’d never fill them. Sure, Jack had sent most of the purchases they’d made in Sydney ahead, so the closet wasn’t barren, but there was no way she’d ever have enough things to make this closet as orderly and packed as Jack’s.

  Patrick’s words troubled her. She was positive she’d never met the man, so how could he know a detail about her she’d never told anyone? In fact, except for the medical staff at the orphanage and the doctor she’d used in Sydney, nobody knew about that scar, and she hadn’t been able to tell her own physician how she’d got it.

  Lucky guess? But how many women had not only a scar, but a jagged one on their stomach?

  Jack was particularly attentive after dinner. He’d insisted she change into a dressing gown, a lovely peignoir. She figured he must’ve purchased it when she wasn’t watching.

  ‘I thought it a fitting gift for my wife.’ He nodded his pleasure at the baby blue fabric. ‘Come, sit on the balcony. Our tiramisu and coffee should arrive any minute.’

  Riley touched her gown. ‘This is lovely. Thank you.’

  Jack smiled. ‘I’m glad you like it. I was afraid you’d think it too...’ He shrugged.

  ‘Personal?’

  ‘Perhaps. I mean, we only met a few weeks ago.’ He grinned. ‘But we are married.’

  Riley chuckled. ‘You’ve purchased underwear for me — I’ve molested yours, as you said. For two people who seem to have opposite views on family values, I’d say we’re doing okay.’

  ‘Pardon?’ He looked offended. ‘Have I questioned your values? And what do you mean we differ on family?’

  Riley was tired and at the point where she didn’t much care what came out of her mouth. Her head was full of new memories, old pains, and questions with no answers. ‘Whenever you’re around Amelia, I sense your affection for her, yet you never talk about your own family in France, without giving short answers to my questions or changing the subject.’

  He cocked his head. ‘I wasn’t aware. So how is that different from your situation? You said you have no family.’

  ‘Didn’t say I didn’t want one. You have everything: living parents, brothers and a sister. Not to mention your strong connection with Amelia, which is more familial than friendly. I’d give anything to have that.’

  His voice was soft. ‘You have it now as my wife. You’ll meet the French connection soon enough. My mother and sister will probably fly here during planting season to spend a few weeks. They feel bad they couldn’t make it to our reception.’

  ‘When’s the last time you saw them?’

  Jack hesitated, seemingly reluctant to answer at first. ‘Maybe three years ago. I don’t exactly remember.’

  Riley was about to respond That’s my point — hardly close when someone knocked on their door.

  Soon Jack was back carrying a wooden tray with dessert and coffee. He poured them each a cup of the steaming liquid and placed her dessert before her. It looked delicious.

  ‘Janet, the chef, makes her own mascarpone, but she refuses to tell anyone how.’ He smiled, aiming his fork for his slice of cake.

  They ate in silence until they were almost finished. Then Jack wiped his lips with his napkin and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I may even join you.’ Riley shoved her plate aside.

  ‘I wasn’t aware you smoked.’ He lit two cigarettes and passed her one.

  Riley accepted the cigarette and inhaled — too sharply — and coughed. ‘I just started.’

  It was Jack’s turn to choke. ‘Why in on earth would you do that?’

  Riley wasn’t willing to admit that she wanted something to do with her hands so she wouldn’t feel so inadequate just sitting there doing nothing. ‘Why not? You’re doing it.’ She tried taking another drag, but her heart wasn’t in it, and her throat rebelled against the smoke.

  Jack’s free hand reached for one of hers. ‘Riley, don’t change because you think it will please me. Trust me, chérie, you are perfect as you are.’

  She felt anything but. She wasn’t accustomed to the ungodly amounts of money these people seemed to possess. She’d never slept in a bedroom that was as big as the apartment she’d just vacated. And at the moment she felt exposed, even though her attire completely covered her bra-less breasts, torso, legs and ankles.

  ‘You’ve had quite a day.’ Jack stated the obvious. ‘Your first meeting with Amelia, she faints. Your first dinner with the family, and you’re put on the spot by Patrick.’

  Riley glanced up sharply. He’d noticed. She trembled, and it felt as if all colour drained from her body. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Riley, what was that all about? Do you have such a scar?’ He wasn’t probing, he sounded sincerely concerned.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. How could she voice to Jack what had only occurred to her as she was changing clothes? As unlikely as it was, Patrick might know something about her she didn’t know about herself.

  ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. How could he have known?’

  Jack’s handsome face reflected a montage of emotions, everything from concern to anger. Certainly distress. She could barely ascertain her own feelings, much less his.

  He answered her with what sounded more like an ultimatum than a reasonable response. ‘I don’t want you talking with Patrick again. Not...not alone, anyway.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he upset you. Maybe you remind him of an old girlfriend — he’s had plenty.’

  Riley shook her head. ‘An old girlfriend who just happens to have a scar like mine?’

  ‘Then it doesn’t make sense, does it?’ Jack sounded strange, almost jealous. ‘Unless you’ve been with him in the past...’

  Riley set her cigarette in their ashtray and pounded her fists on the table. ‘I grew up in a Catholic orphanage and never dated until my late teens. Despite your catching me a bit tipsy on wine earlier, I rarely ever drink, and when I do, I never lose consciousness, so I’d know if a man had seen me naked. I can count on one hand the number of close friends I’ve had, and none of them were male. And for your information, that scar was with me when I entered the orphanage!’

  Angry, she shoved her chair back and stood. She stormed to where Jack sat and lifted her gown upwards over her right thigh, up past her knickers to her waist. ‘Does that look like a new scar to you?’

  He stared only for a moment, then his hands shot out to capture hers, and he unfolded her tightly clenched fingers clutching the gown, allowing it to drop back into place. ‘You are shaking, chérie. I believe you.’

  Jack wrapped both arms about her hips and drew her closer. He kissed her stomach through the thin material and rested his head where he’d just kissed her.

  Riley could feel every intake and release of his breath, warm, as if no material separated them. He completely stole her thunder, all the fear and anger that had roiled within. All the indignant words left unsaid. Reflexes were automatic — her hands clutching his head and smoothing his hair. His hands moulding her hips, drawing her as close as possible until he could bury his face in the folds of her gown.

  ‘Jack, I don’t understand how he could know such a thing. The doctor at the orphanage said I must’ve had at least five stitches, but I don’t remember receiving them.’

  He raised his head and looked at her. ‘We need to talk, but first there’s something I must ask Amelia to do.’

  Jack wasn’t accustomed to feeling the way he felt right now. When he’d met Riley, she was indeed small but didn’t appear to need anyone defending her. She had attitude in spades, despite her size. He’d wanted to comfort her when Amelia fainted, because Riley had asked if it was because of her somehow, as if meeting her had distressed the older woman. If he were honest, he’d have to admit to being jealous when Pat
rick flirted with her, and jealousy was foreign to Jack. So okay, he was protective and jealous.

  The scar is what confused him. It wasn’t large, wasn’t ugly, and it was obvious the physical pain had occurred decades earlier. But the thought of such a fragile young girl being hurt — and seeing the delectable woman she’d become with her lacy panties in his face...he was gob-smacked. For the first time in his life, he was unable to pigeonhole his feelings, and he couldn’t fathom why. They were not lovers, despite the marriage certificate, so why did he suddenly itch to beat the bloody hell out of whomever had caused her injury? It was as if he were spoiling for a fight and Patrick was the only man around to take his anger out on, but that action would accomplish nothing other than to upset Amelia.

  He had to speak with Amelia, get her to show him the photographs she’d mentioned. Right now, however, his attention was focused upon his wife, who sat on the edge of his bed — theirs, he reminded himself — looking as forlorn as a lost puppy.

  Jack sat beside her. ‘What is it, chérie? Are you still thinking of the scar? It doesn’t look that bad.’

  Riley crossed her arms, not angrily, more like she was hugging herself. She shook her head slowly, as if pondering something. ‘Karma.’

  He wanted to grab her and hug her, but something told him it was more important to just listen.

  She took her time, her words coming out fragmented, as if they were chosen specifically as ingredients for a pie. ‘Choices. Causes and effects. Judgement. And I’m wondering about a lot of things. It’s my wedding night, and...’ She looked up. ‘I’m not depressed because we aren’t, you know...’ Her shoulders hunched in a miniscule shrug. ‘For some reason, here we are, and instead of man and wife, we’re strangers. I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘Oh, chérie!’

  ‘No’ She pushed him away. ‘It’s not that, really. This isn’t about us and it should be. It’s about me. I’m wondering now if I’m the reason I’m orphaned. Did I somehow slip away from whoever was watching me? Was I wild?’

  ‘At three years old?’ Jack had to jump into the middle of whatever tirade she was inflicting on herself. ‘Maybe you just need to talk to someone.’

  Riley exploded with a raw laugh. ‘Don’t you think I’ve been to psychiatrists, doctors, everyone but a Maori witch doctor? I have no answers! I-I need...and...when I finally find someone who tells me something he couldn’t possibly know unless he did know me, you tell me not to talk to him!’

  ‘He got lucky, Riley, it’s a coincidence.’

  Mon Dieu! Jack stood and paced, afraid to touch her for fear he’d shake her. Did she think he would stop her from looking for her family? He’d found them for her!

  Or had he? He certainly hadn’t told Riley. Hell, he hadn’t even proven his theory. Maybe it was time he did.

  ‘Get your clothes on.’ He knew his voice was hard, cold, not comforting, and she was hurting so badly.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘To talk to Amelia. There’s something she has that might put an end to your worries.’

  Not that she’d ever given it much thought, but this was so not how Riley had imagined spending her wedding night. As a young girl, she’d been more concerned with finding her family. As a teenager, she’d matured quickly and realised early that she was truly on her own, that if she was ever to get ahead, earn a living, make a home for herself, she needed an education and skills for everything from cleaning to doing her own taxes.

  Riley swore to never allow herself the indulgence of feeling as if she’d missed out by not having a family. She had embraced her life with the Sisters of Grace and the other children, made friends, done her chores, learned her lessons; she emerged proud of herself and her accomplishments.

  Now...she was smack in the middle of a chaotic ocean of emotions she didn’t understand, surrounded by people who appeared wonderful and giving but who were, nonetheless, strangers. She wasn’t prepared her for this. A husband who didn’t love her. Another man she didn’t remember who seemed to know her. Wealth beyond imagination that afforded her clothes, jewellery, and comforts she’d never possessed. Money she certainly didn’t feel entitled to, even though she’d bargained for it.

  She needed to wipe away everything that wasn’t familiar and concentrate on what she’d set out to do — own her own vineyard. She might not recognise the world into which she’d thrust herself, but she did know elemental things. She understood soil, water, living things from plants to mould. Yes, what she needed was to work so that she would no longer feel undeserving.

  She needed to ditch the pity party before she became one of the victims she disliked. Riley Grace...Riley Beauchamp... She shook herself mentally. No matter her name, she was still the same woman she’d been prior to meeting Jack Beauchamp, and she wouldn’t allow him, circumstance, or anything else to alter that fact.

  Riley hadn’t risen from the bed and had no intention of going with him, or letting him wake Amelia, who was probably asleep. ‘No. It’s late, and we shouldn’t disturb her.’

  She could tell Jack was frustrated, possibly even angry, because he did something she’d not seen him do. He paced; from bed to bureau and there to French doors leading to the patio before coming back.

  He towered over her. ‘Help me then. It’s our wedding night, and my wife just said she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. What am I to do with that?’

  ‘Ignore it. Call it wedding night jitters or whatever you want. I’m out of my comfort zone, but I should never have thrust my insecurities upon you, and I’m certainly not going to start this arrangement by being a wimp. You deserve better.’

  He groaned and resumed pacing, just like the panther she’d likened him to when they first met, and with every step Riley felt guiltier.

  ‘I’m trying to fix this,’ she said, ‘but you aren’t helping by acting like a caged animal.’ She rose and went to him, placing a hand on one of his biceps. ‘Jack?’

  He turned to face her, and the muscles beneath her fingers tensed. ‘If I touch you, Riley, this wedding night will be less to your liking and more to mine.’ His nostrils flared slightly and the planes of his face became as chiselled as granite.

  Riley longed to smooth the furrow in his brow that had appeared while he spoke. She knew she’d be tempting fate — he’d already warned her — but the impulse to make contact was unbearable. Irresistible.

  At first, Jack shrank from her, the glint in his eyes telling her he meant what he’d said. Riley didn’t care. Recklessly, she ventured forth, but instead of stroking his forehead as she’d intended, she found herself touching the back of his neck where his dark hair curled close to his shirt collar.

  He bent his head, and her fingers climbed higher until she had a fistful of hair. She tugged and with a groan he scooped her into his arms and kissed her more soundly than she’d ever been kissed.

  Like a hungry man, he devoured her lips, drank in what she offered and more.

  Riley felt like she was floating then vaguely realised she wasn’t touching the floor. He’d lifted her and walked the few steps it took to the bed. Soon she lay in the circle of his arms, her head barely grazing the pillows. One of his hands cradled her spine while the other lifted her hips. Then he stopped kissing her.

  She writhed, abandoned for a moment, then sucked into a vortex of need as Jack’s hands slipped to her ankles and lifted her gown. The softness of the material combined with the warmth of his hands, followed by his lips touching her inner calves then thighs made her moan with desire. He was relentless in pursuit, licking, lapping and eventually nudging aside the sheer fabric that separated her skin from his tongue.

  With a fluid lift of her butt and one solid yank, he completely removed the last vestige of material from her lower body, leaving her gasping for air and the knowledge of what came next.

  She expected him to remove her gown, but no...he left h
er half-clothed and kept his attention on his first mission, that of separating the delicate folds of skin in order to spear her with his hot tongue.

  Riley cried out, unable and unwilling to so much as flex, much less move. Paralysed with need, she clung to his head with both hands, fearful he might stop, terrified of her response if he didn’t. She’d gone from guileless to gullible within seconds and didn’t care where Jack led. She’d never felt so complete. Surely, nothing that felt this good could be bad.

  But once it was over and every tightly wound emotion she contained exploded into infinite fire then bliss, Jack was gone. Standing at the foot of the bed, straightening his clothing, following up by tossing a blanket at her.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Riley attempted to focus, but she was whiplashed from Jack making love to her then completely removing himself from her reach. She’d needed his presence, to feel his body next to hers. Her first inclination after the shattering climax was to reciprocate as best she could. Limited knowledge but unfathomable desire. The latter had to count for something.

  ‘I’m taking a walk. Alone.’

  She was confused. ‘Jack, come back to bed.’

  ‘I told you earlier not to tempt me, Riley. But what’s done is done. At least you can’t say you were alone on your wedding night.’ His voice was flat, void of emotion. ‘And there’s no way I could have impregnated you.’

  Riley flinched from the verbal slap. She knew he was right. She’d flatly told him she wouldn’t have children with someone who bartered flesh. Now her words came back to haunt her, and she didn’t like the portrait it painted. It probably appeared to her husband that she wasn’t above using a man to satisfy her own longings then not reciprocating. But dammit, he’d left the bed. How was she to do anything with him standing fully clothed, upright, and six feet from her?

  He didn’t give her the chance to explain how she felt. He turned and walked out of their bedroom, without looking back, leaving her feeling bereft and incompetent.