She had fallen head over heels, totally, recklessly, blindly—impossibly—irretrievably in love with this husband of convenience of hers. And that love was the last thing he wanted from her.

And the knowledge of that fact had driven her to desperate measures. For the last few months, she had been actively taking steps to make sure she didn’t conceive the baby that she knew Liam wanted, even though it had almost broken her heart to do so.

‘DON’T call me sweetheart! I don’t like it!’

It was the nearest she dared come to expressing the whirling thoughts in her head, the pain that was burning in her heart.

‘First I’ve heard of it—but—fine!’

The nonchalance of his answer made matters even worse, heaping coals on the fires of misery she was already struggling with.

‘Is that what’s bugging you?’

His expression made it plain that he thought she was really way over the top if she was making such a fuss about a simple word.

‘What? No, of course not.’

‘Then would you mind explaining just what is?’

The way the words were cut off, sharp, cold and clipped, left her in no doubt at all that whatever control he had had over his temper was now rapidly wearing thin. All it would take was one more hesitation, an attempt to dodge the issue, and he would lose it completely. And Liam in a temper was something she didn’t want to risk, especially not tonight.

‘It’s—it’s this party—’ she tried again.

‘What about the party?’

‘I’m not sure it’s—it’s right.’

‘Right?’

The word was clearly the last one he had expected to hear.

‘Right?’ he repeated, frowning his confusion. ‘Precisely what is wrong with it.’

‘Nothing’s wrong with the party. It’s just that I’m not sure that it’s right for us to be celebrating like this. No—listen…’ she put in hastily when he drew a swift, sharp breath in through his teeth, obviously priming himself for some sort of cutting retort. ‘It’s the first anniversary of our wedding day.’

‘A fact that I am only too well aware of.’

The black irony of his tone made her wince but she forced herself to ignore it so that she had the nerve to continue.

‘But it wasn’t exactly the sort of wedding day most people have. The sort they’d want to celebrate. Ours isn’t that type of marriage. It never was and it never will be.’

But she had dreamed that it could be, and that was the problem. She had dreamed of love and happy ever after and those dreams had been stronger even than her longing to become a mother. But it was only as the mother of his children that Liam had wanted her.

‘And yet we’ve invited all these people. My family—your grandfather—friends…’

‘They wanted to come. Besides, it’s Christmas, and everyone loves a party at Christmas.’

Liam was being deliberately awkward. Surely by now he knew exactly what she meant. She didn’t have to spell it out.

But it seemed that she did.

‘They wanted to come to help us celebrate. But they don’t know the truth of it. They don’t know that our marriage is really little more than a business arrangement and not the love match they believe it to be. I don’t feel that we have the right to expect them to celebrate something that is little more than a lie.’

‘A lie!’

She’d caught him on the raw there, somehow. And it was clear he didn’t like it. The stunning features darkened swiftly and with a rough movement he twisted the hair-brush from her hands, tossing it aside, careless of the way it fell to the floor with a soft thud and spun away across the carpet.

The next moment hard fingers closed over her arms and she was wrenched up close to him. So close that she was forced to tilt her chin sharply in order to look up into his face. It was either that or bury her head in his shoulder, and with every one of her senses instantly on red alert at simply being near him she didn’t dare to risk any close contact. Already the warm, clean scent of his skin was coiling round her, unbearably provocative, instantly arousing. And his beautiful, sensual mouth was almost exactly at eye level; the temptation to lift her head just a little higher and press her lips to his was almost irresistible.

She could kiss him out of this mood, she knew. At least, she’d always been able to do that in the past. But now, after that awkward moment in the bathroom when he’d completely blanked her, she didn’t think she dared to risk it. The thought of another rejection was frankly more than she could bear.

And besides her conscience was troubling her badly, as it had been for months now. When she had mentioned a lie, what she had really meant was her own recent behaviour, the guilty truth she was holding back.

‘A lie,’ Liam repeated, more quietly, but no less harshly. ‘This marriage is no lie, sweetheart. It’s exactly what we wanted. It’s exactly what we’ve made it—and that makes it a lot more honest than most.’

‘But…’ Peta tried to break in, nerving herself to tell him, but he swept on, totally ignoring her attempted interjection.

‘Believe me, there are many of those who start out believing that their love is for ever who don’t even last to their first anniversary. Plenty of marriage vows break at the first hurdle. They fall out of love as swiftly as they fell into it. One crisis and it’s over—done. They hate each other and never want to see the other person’s face ever again. So…’

Somewhere along the line he’d made a dangerous mistake, Liam told himself; the swift rush of his thoughts faltering, making him lose his train of argument. He should never have come so close. Never have caught hold of her like this. Never have crushed her up against him until they were almost melded into one, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. The clean, fresh scent of her skin, tantalisingly combined with the delicately perfumed shower gel she had been using, coiled around him, teasing his senses, making his head swim with desire.

His whole body was on fire. So hot that he could only be grateful for the fact that the double thickness of the towel that wrapped her acted as insulation between her skin and the burn of it. That, and the achingly swollen demand of his hunger for her that pressed urgently against the cradle of her hips.

Swallowing hard to ease the raw dryness of his throat, he tried again.

‘So—what we have is well worth celebrating.’

‘But…’

‘But nothing! What we have is what’s right for us! And that’s all that matters in a marriage. That the two people involved in it are getting what they want from it. That it makes them happy…’

A sudden, nastily uncomfortable twist of his conscience almost brought him up sharp, but he forced the uneasiness down again and hurried on, praying she hadn’t sensed his hesitation. There wasn’t a problem. These things took time.

‘We’re celebrating a year together—no matter what the circumstances. That’s the truth.’

A sudden movement of her shoulders distracted him, drawing his eyes irresistibly to the rounded smoothness of her naked skin, still faintly flushed from the warmth of the shower. Instantly his thoughts were distracted from the argument he was trying to express, diverted on to other, more sensual, more inviting paths.

‘The truth is…’ Peta began, but he wasn’t listening to her.

That shoulder was too tempting. The skin on it was so soft, so delicate. He couldn’t resist lifting a hand to touch it, to stroke the gentlest of caresses over its curve, feeling the muscles beneath flex faintly, the shiver of response she was unable to hold back.

‘The truth, darling?’

It was a blend of husky sensuality and shaken laughter. He still hadn’t got a grip on the way this woman made him feel. The incredible immediacy of his response to her, the instant, burning heat of arousal he felt as soon as he touched her.