The Sinner's Marriage Redemption

Yet she hadn’t once complained about her altered circumstances. Instead she’d been upbeat about the chance to visit Prague on her two weeks’ vacation.

Ava’s chin hiked up. ‘If I don’t mind...’

‘But I do.’ He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Even pouting, she was delectable. His fingers trailed her throat, up to that argumentative chin. He had to repress a smile at her sensuous shiver. She was patently his for the taking.

He couldn’t believe he was doing the noble thing. It didn’t gel with his plans or his inclinations.

Yet he stepped away before he was tempted to haul her back against him. The half-dazed, half-angry expression she wore didn’t help. He wanted to wipe it away and replace it with that yearning look that made him feel larger than life.

His hands clenched, then spread wide.

‘I’d better go.’ Already he was moving away, his steps ludicrously stiff because of his erection.

The shocked, mutinous look on her face told him he should say more but for once words deserted him. It was all he could do to walk away. Yet something inside, something he hadn’t listened to in a long time, told him he was doing the right thing.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Ava.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘SEE YOU TOMORROW.’

Ava winced. Flynn had left her so casually.

Indignation welled, as it had all night. She avoided the mirror, knowing what she’d see. Anger, but disappointment too, and a flush that felt disturbingly like arousal. All night she’d been troubled by dreams that left her achy and longing.

Her lips pursed. What had she done wrong? Surely she hadn’t misinterpreted his eagerness.

She shook her head. She was doing it again: rehashing last night’s mortifying scene where he’d all but had to prise her hands off him.

As for his tight-lipped look as he’d said, ‘Not here, not now...’ It was naïve to think he’d been put off by their surroundings. Flynn might wear hand-made shoes and exquisitely tailored clothes, but he came from a working class family. She’d seen their modest cottage on the estate. There’d been nothing pretentious about the Marshalls.

Whatever made him leave last night it wasn’t her room. That only left her.

Pride told her it was ridiculous to think she was so unattractive she’d scared him off. He hadn’t found her unattractive when he’d kissed her.

Unless he hadn’t really wanted to.

She’d invited him to her room.

She’d initiated the kiss.

Could she have got it wrong?

A knock at the door ended her circling thoughts.

Flynn? Her pulse thudded and she knew a cowardly desire to pretend she hadn’t heard. Angry with herself, she put her shoulders back and marched to the door.

The man standing there was a foot shorter than Flynn and twice as wide. He held a boxed arrangement of exquisite peonies and camellias.

‘Miss Cavendish?’

At her dazed nod he smiled and thrust the arrangement into her arms. Then with a half-bow he turned and headed downstairs before she had time to recover.

Cradling the flowers, Ava backed into her room. They were so perfect they didn’t look real. But as she stroked a finger across one petal she was rewarded with a rich silken texture no man-made process could duplicate.

With unsteady hands she put them on the table. At once her small room morphed from economy class to luxurious and exotically enticing.

She plopped onto the bed.

In twenty-four years she’d never been given flowers. How pathetic was that? Men she’d dated had wanted to buy her drinks or meals, but never anything as romantic as flowers. These weren’t just romantic, they were flagrantly, unashamedly so.

An image surfaced of blood-red long-stemmed roses in an expensive florist’s box. Ava shuddered and thrust the memory away. Those hadn’t been a gift. They’d been a statement of possession.

She wrapped her arms around herself to dispel an inner chill and stared at the blooms—lush, sensual and gorgeous. She plucked the card from them.

They reminded me of you.

No signature, but they had to be from Flynn.

Ava blinked. They reminded him of her? She looked at the voluptuous splendour of the peonies, full-bloomed and extravagant, yet with their soft pink tint so delicate and feminine. And the camellias—pure white and elegant.

She frowned. Lush and voluptuous or neat and virginal?

How did Flynn view her?

Her figure was feminine, but hardly voluptuous. As for virginal—heat rose in her cheeks. Flynn couldn’t know that.

The trouble was she didn’t know where she stood with him.

She’d lost her habit of keeping men at a distance the minute Flynn had smiled at her in Paris. With his charm and their shared history he’d broached every defence she’d built against glib, grasping men. The speed of their romance had stirred anxiety. But until last night she’d overridden it, too delighted and excited to care.

She’d thought she knew him. Till he’d left her so abruptly.

What was she going to do about him?

More, what could she do about her feelings for him? They tied her in knots and turned her well-ordered life and everything she knew about herself on their head.

* * *

Ava slipped on her sunglasses as she left the hotel and stepped onto the quiet cobblestoned street. She’d taken three paces when a tall shadow peeled away from the pastel-washed building opposite.

Flynn. Her heart beat a tattoo up high near her throat, robbing her of air.

‘Forgive me?’

Eyes of black velvet snared her.

‘What for? Sending flowers?’

‘For walking out on you.’

Despite the glow in his eyes there were harsh lines bracketing his mouth, as if from tension or regret. Or maybe she was reading things that weren’t there.

Ava shrugged airily and donned the polite society mask she’d perfected in her teens.

‘Of course you’re angry.’

Ava’s brows rose. No one except Rupert had ever penetrated what she thought of as her armoured look—but then Rupe had grown up in the same family, suffering like her. He knew poise and surface charm didn’t tell the whole story.

‘I’m sorry.’ Flynn’s voice was a soft, deep rumble.

Instantly her nipples beaded and heat melted between her thighs, as if she were ready to continue where they’d left off last night. Her lips firmed at her body’s betrayal. How could she? No man had ever made her weak like this.

‘If it’s any consolation it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, walking away last night.’

His eyes mesmerised, willing her to believe him.

‘Then why did you?’

His mouth kicked up at the corner in a rueful half-smile that infuriatingly made her body hum.

‘You deserved better.’

‘Better than you?’ In her besotted state Ava couldn’t imagine anyone better than Flynn. That only fuelled her anger.

Slowly he shook his head, his gaze so intense she felt it like a wave of warmth, engulfing her from her head to her soles.

‘Never that. The thought of you with another man...’ Heat flickered in his eyes and Ava’s breath hitched as his expression turned possessive. ‘No. I couldn’t stand it.’

Some primitive part of her psyche revelled in his discomfort, his possessiveness, even as she reminded herself that no man had the right to control her.

‘I meant you deserved better than a cramped bed with the neighbours listening to every gasp and cry, hearing you in ecstasy and imagining exactly what we were doing with each creak of the mattress springs.’

The heat low in Ava’s body shot, fizzing and supercharged, through every artery and capillary. It branded her body in fiery heat as her imagination provided pictures to go with Flynn’s description. He’d be naked, strong and lithe, his hands sure, his body unflagging, as he took her to heights she’d never experienced.

Her palms tingled, her fingers tightening as if needing to reach out and touch.

It took far too long to dispel the erotic images he’d stirred.

‘Surely I’m the best judge of that.’ Her voice sounded throaty and full, disturbingly needy. ‘You shouldn’t have just walked out.’ Too late for pride, but her feelings for Flynn made pride seem insignificant. It was honesty she craved.

‘I know.’

He brushed her jaw in the lightest of caresses and she swallowed hard. Only indignation kept her from swaying into his touch.

‘It was appalling behaviour. My only excuse...’ his voice dropped to a deliciously deep whisper ‘...is that if I hadn’t walked out there’d have been no time for scruples. I’d have had you fast and hard and very, very loud up against the wall, pounding into you with all the finesse of a horny teenager. I wouldn’t have been satisfied until I had your legs around my waist and you were screaming my name in ecstasy.’

Ava felt her eyes widen, her heart stuttering at the graphic image. She sucked in a searing breath, watching him watch her absorb his words.

‘What would have been wrong with that?’ She didn’t bother to hide her pique.

His lips curved in that smile she knew so well. His huff of laughter dispelled the shadows in his eyes.

He stepped in till she was encompassed by him, barricaded from any passing pedestrians.

‘Nothing.’

Flynn’s smile held that hint of wildness she’d always associated with him. Now, turned on her, it produced a frisson of doubt, the unease of a deer spying a hunter.

‘It would have been glorious.’

His gaze dipped to her breasts, peaking against her colourful cotton shirt. Ava wanted to wrap her arms around her breasts, hide their burgeoning response. She wanted even more to revel in his hot hunger.

Suddenly his eyes meshed with hers. ‘Except you would have regretted it later. When it came time to disentangle our bodies and straighten our clothes you would have been uncomfortable—especially knowing everyone on the floor had heard you come apart in my arms.’

He was right. She would have been uncomfortable. But she couldn’t imagine for an instant regretting making love with Flynn. Not when she regretted so much not making love with him.

Flynn’s hand settled at her waist, making her soften despite herself.

‘I want our first time to be perfect. I want to pamper you and make you feel special. Not like some cheap one-night stand after a hot and heavy date.’

Hot and heavy would do it for her right now, but there was magic in the picture he painted. He wanted to make her feel special. No one had ever wanted that.

Ava was entranced by the idea as much as by the determination stamped on his dark features.

He wanted her. Her doubts had been ridiculous. She saw desire branded on his face. Excitement stirred like a whispering summer breeze, riffling through her.

‘Besides...’ He leaned in, his breath caressing her ear, sending shivers of delight through her primed body. ‘I want your first time to be memorable in the very best way.’

It took a moment to absorb his words. Ava jerked her head back, shock stiffening her body. He couldn’t know. No one but she knew that she’d never had sex. It wasn’t branded on her forehead!

‘What do you mean, my first time?’ she hissed. Mortification hovered at the thought that she’d given away her inexperience—she who’d learned to project sophistication so early.

Flynn regarded her steadily. ‘Virginity is nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘I’m not ashamed,’ she bit out, too late realising she’d confirmed his suspicions.

He nodded. ‘Good.’ He trailed his knuckles down her hot cheek, his stare once more proprietorial. That look did strange things to her internal organs. It felt as if they were melting. ‘I find the idea utterly entrancing.’

His palm settled at the base of her throat, his fingers caressing skin turned suddenly hyper-sensitive.

‘You have a thing about virgins?’ The words shot out, terse and abrasive. Did his look smack of the sick gloating she’d seen years ago, that last fateful night at Frayne Hall? Then she’d been slavered over like some tasty morsel. A thing, not a person.

‘Ava? What is it?’ Flynn’s voice was sharp.

The air clogged in her throat, depriving her of breath.

‘Talk to me.’ It was an order, and it worked, jerking her out of sordid memory and into the present—the quiet street, the big, charismatic man with concern written on his wrinkled brow.

‘It’s nothing.’

It was a lie, but the alternative—spilling that ancient secret—was untenable. It made her feel tainted.

Ava dragged in air to fill her lungs. ‘I don’t like the idea it’s my virginity you’re interested in, not me.’

‘That’s what’s bothering you?’

His face cleared. He captured her hand, lifting it. His tongue laved the centre of her palm, right up to her wrist, and she shivered as her body caught alight.

‘Believe me, virgins per se don’t tempt me. It’s you I want, Ava. And not just in bed.’

Sincerity blazed in his face, and she felt her doubts crumble.

‘What do you want, Flynn?’

Last night she’d felt on the brink of something—not just sex, but understanding this man who’d transformed her life from ordinary to heady and exciting. If she’d been prone to fantasy she’d have likened him to Prince Charming, sweeping all before him. But Prince Charming with an earthy edge and, despite his suave cloak of wealth, a hint of the maverick about him still. And, just occasionally, a hint of ruthlessness that gave her pause.

Flynn straightened, glancing over his shoulder, reminding her they were crammed against a wall in a nearly deserted street.

‘Come with me.’ He clasped her hand in his and took a half-step back. ‘I have something organised that I think you’ll like. We can discuss this then.’

Ava stood her ground. She needed answers. With Flynn she teetered between absolute certainty that they were two halves of a whole, made for each other, and the rare but unnerving idea that she’d missed something vital. That their relationship wasn’t the wildly romantic affair it seemed.

She had to know.

‘Tell me now. I need to understand.’

Night-dark eyes scanned her face, coming to rest on her mouth. Was her bottom lip sticking out? Her father had accused her of ugly pouting if she ever showed a hint of rebellion.

But Flynn didn’t look at her as if she were ugly. The heat in his stare sent tingles through her. The air between them fizzed with energy.

‘Please, Flynn.’

Did he hear her yearning?

He smiled ruefully, shaking his head. ‘I had it all planned. It wasn’t going to be like this.’

‘What wasn’t going to be like this?’

There it was again—that look in his eyes that told her Flynn wasn’t like the city suits her father had mixed with. Despite his designer gold watch, expensive clothes and high-powered business meetings there was something elemental about Flynn.

To her amazement, he dropped to his knees on the cobblestones. To one knee, to be precise. His wry half-smile drove a cleft down his cheek, almost distracting her from the remarkable sight of him kneeling before her.

Once more he raised her hand to his mouth and his lips pressed her flesh. The hint of humour disappeared.

‘Will you marry me, Ava?’

Her stomach swooped and did an unnerving loop the loop. Her hand began to shake in his.

‘I want you in my bed, sweetheart. But I want much more. I want you to be my wife.’

‘I...’ She goggled. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected a proposal. Her heart soared. Flynn wanted to spend his life with her. He cared more than she’d ever guessed possible.

But marriage!

‘We’ve only known each other a week.’

His brows rose. ‘We’ve known each other for years.’

But how well? Seven years older than her, he’d usually been busy helping his father on the estate grounds, or running errands for his mother in the Hall kitchen. After he’d left for London she’d only seen him on brief visits home.

Yet despite that, she’d known his character. His integrity.

Then there’d been the night of the car crash. The night that had changed everything. Flynn had no idea how much his help had meant to her. Not merely because of the accident but because he’d given her time and respite to see that she’d had to go back and face her demons.

He’d cared for her as no one in that house had.

His support had strengthened her.

She’d been half in love with him even then.

Was it any wonder she’d fallen for him now? He embodied all she craved in a man: honour, respect, trust. Passion.

‘But...marriage!’

Still he knelt. He showed no self-consciousness.

‘You don’t like the idea?’

‘I’ve never thought of it.’ She’d never daydreamed of weddings—probably because she’d seen the reality of her parents’ marriage and knew it for a prison sentence, not a happy-ever-after. Even now, when she was in love with Flynn, the idea of marriage made her hesitate.

‘Think about it,’ he murmured. ‘You and me together.’

His eyes were smoky with passion and Ava gulped. Outrageous as the sudden proposal was, it was shockingly tempting. To be with Flynn always...

‘I need time,’ she blurted, then waited for his gaze to turn needle-sharp. When her father hadn’t immediately got his own way he’d had a look that could slice you off at the knees.

Flynn merely nodded and rose. ‘Of course.’

He looped her arm through his. His touch reassured, but the way he held her to his side smacked of possessiveness.

Instead of it rankling, Ava revelled in it. Flynn loved her! Shock mingled with delight.

‘Come on. There’s somewhere I want to take you. We can talk there.’

‘There’ turned out to be a luxurious terrace restaurant on the river. They had a perfect view of the Charles Bridge with its statues, the quaint Bridge Tower rising at one end and the old town. Swans and small craft glided across the glinting river.

Magically, although it was lunchtime, they had the place to themselves. Or perhaps not so magically. Ava saw the head waiter turning people away from the door.

‘Did you book out the whole restaurant?’ She gasped, half laughing at the absurdity of the idea.

Flynn took her hand across the starched white linen tablecloth, his touch warm, his eyes mesmerising. ‘I wanted to be alone with you.’

‘But...’ She knew he was successful. The little he’d told her about his business and the clothes he wore told her that. But to book an entire restaurant—moreover, one with such an air of exclusive luxury...? ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He must have read her shock. ‘Don’t worry, I can afford it. But I’d much rather talk about us.’

Ava’s breath expelled in a fluttering sigh. Us. It sounded so good.

Flynn raised his crystal wine glass. ‘To our future together.’

Automatically she lifted her glass. ‘To the future.’

He smiled. ‘You’re still not sure.’

She took her time sipping the pale gold wine, tasting fruit, flinty soil and sunshine. Bubbles burst on her tongue and went straight to her head. Or perhaps that was the Flynn effect. When she was with him nothing seemed mundane or ordinary.

‘I’m still stunned. We don’t even know if we’re physically compatible.’

His expression altered, focused, igniting wildfire in her veins. ‘I think last night proves we’ve got no problems there. We’re combustible together.’

He stroked her wrist and she shivered. Her need for him was a gnawing ache.

‘But marriage is about more than physical attraction.’

Why was she arguing? She’d fallen for Flynn so completely she should be floating in seventh heaven. But a lifetime’s caution couldn’t be shucked aside in an instant.

‘You don’t think we’re compatible? You haven’t enjoyed our time together?’

‘Of course I have. It’s been...wonderful. I’ve never felt like this. But it’s only been a week.’

‘How long do you need to be sure? A month? A year?’ Flynn put down his wine and leaned forward, shifting a platter of exquisitely presented appetisers. ‘I knew the moment I saw you in Paris.’

Ava’s breath caught. Love at first sight? It sounded impossibly romantic.

Yet it was there in his face: absolute certainty. Her heart flipped over.

‘You care for me that much?’

‘You’re the one woman in the world for me, Ava. I’ve never wanted anyone else as my wife. You’re perfect in every way. Perfect for me.’

She heard the harsh edge of emotion in his voice.

‘You make me complete.’

‘Flynn...’ Her fingers meshed with his as he took her glass and put it on the table. Then he lifted her onto his lap with such negligent strength she would have been impressed if she hadn’t already been dazzled by his words and the gleam in his eyes.

‘Is it because you don’t care enough for me?’

His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver.

‘I care, Flynn. You know that.’

Despite a lifetime’s training in bottling up emotions, Ava had let her feelings show time and again. With Flynn, for the first time, that hadn’t seemed to matter. What they had was real and precious. Honest.

His smile was so smug she laughed, sudden elation swamping doubt.

‘Then say yes and I’ll give you the biggest, best wedding London can provide. The church, umpteen bridesmaids and a lavish reception. I can see you in white, with a long train and—’

‘No!’ She tensed, a flake of arctic frost drifting down her spine, chilling her.

‘Ava? What is it?’

She shook her head, trying to clear the shreds of dismay. ‘No big wedding. No white dress.’

‘But you’d look lovely.’

Flynn’s voice was warm as syrup but it failed to dispel the cold creeping into her bones.

‘No.’ She met his questioning stare. ‘Not white.’

Memory flashed an image of the long white evening gown she’d worn for that last winter ball at Frayne Hall. When she’d opened the couturier’s box she’d thought it pretty, almost virginal. But it had clung like a glove, displaying her to hungry eyes. As it had been designed to do, she’d discovered later.

She shuddered.

‘Not white, then.’

Flynn looked puzzled, but Ava wasn’t about to enlighten him. She’d rather shove the past back where it belonged—in the past—and get on with her life.

‘If I marry...’ She paused, making sure he heard her conditions. ‘I don’t want lots of bridesmaids or fuss. No big wedding.’

‘Surely you’ll want all your friends and family to celebrate with you?’

Ava shook her head. She had a couple of good friends. She’d learned years ago to discern between those few genuinely interested in her and those attracted by her family’s status and money. When the money bled away so did they. As for family, there was only Rupert and he was in America. Her parents were dead.

‘No. If I marry I’d rather elope. Just a quiet, simple wedding.’

‘There was I, thinking you’d revel in lace and roses. I thought you a romantic.’ His tone was light but his expression was serious, as if he’d read her tension.

She shrugged. ‘I love lace and roses. I just don’t like a public fuss over something private.’

‘So you’ll marry me?’ He tilted up her face.

Black velvet eyes caressed her and Ava’s body softened. A sigh funnelled up from her lungs and she wanted to lean into him, surrender to passion, trust him totally.

But marriage...

‘I need time to think about it.’

Even as she said it a voice cried inside that she was a fool. She loved Flynn. She wanted him. She had to learn to trust some time, didn’t she?

His smile was endearing, his stroking fingers along her cheek infinitely tender.

‘Then it’s a good thing I’m an expert at persuasion.’

CHAPTER FIVE