The Impetuous Bride. Caroline Anderson

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE butcher’s block was, as Maggie had said, huge. After the punishment he’d given his body the day before on the squash court, heaving it in and out of the car brought on a volley of protest from the screaming muscles, but he ignored it, as he ignored the throbbing pain in his head induced by his overindulgence.

      He contented himself with sitting beside Lydia and enjoying the view of her slim, jeans-clad thighs right next to him. He angled himself slightly, so that he could see her without turning his head too much, and watched her as she drove.

      She was tense and nervous, either because she hadn’t driven in the country for some time, or because he was there. He didn’t know which, but she was certainly taut as a bowstring, and after a while she pulled over.

      ‘Could you drive?’ she asked.

      ‘Am I insured?’

      ‘Oh, yes, it’s insured for anyone over twenty one. I just feel—I don’t know, it’s been quite a long time since I did it, and I’m not that used to the car. I still feel a bit spaced-out after the travelling, to be honest.’

      ‘Admit it, you’re wimping out,’ he teased, and she shot him a black look and reached for the keys.

      ‘Forget it,’ she said tightly. ‘I’ll manage.’

      He put his hand over hers on the gear lever and stopped her moving it.

      ‘Don’t be silly, I was teasing. Of course I’ll drive.’ He got out of the car, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to drive off and leave him there. He probably deserved it. Oh, damn.

      Then her door opened and she emerged, walking round the front as he went round the back, so they didn’t even have to pass. Deliberately?

      How could he tell—short of asking her? And he wasn’t masochist enough to do that. He slid behind the wheel, moved the seat back to accommodate his long legs and checked the mirrors. The seat was warm from her body, and he felt his own react immediately.

      Dear God, he was in a bad way! He must be a fool to keep exposing himself to her company like this. Anyone with any sense would have left the country, but not him. Oh, no. He was there, cheerfully volunteering to crawl naked over a bed of hot ashes if it got him nearer to her—