With Love From Cape Town

But she needn’t have worried. Niall had obviously become fed up waiting for her to vacate the bathroom and had used the kitchen sink to clean his teeth before slipping into bed, with Ella curled up beside him on the far side. In the semi-darkness, Robina couldn’t tell if he was asleep, but from the sound of rhythmic breathing it appeared he was.

Tentatively, trying not to disturb him, she slipped under the blankets, shivering as she felt the cool sheets on her skin. She lay there for a few seconds scared to move a muscle in case she woke Niall.

But it seemed as if she had been mistaken.

‘You’re cold,’ Niall’s deep voice said. ‘Come here and let me warm you.’ Robina felt his hand touch her shoulder and the shock of it was almost enough to make her leap out of bed. ‘You’re perfectly safe,’ he said, and she could hear a hint of laughter under his words.

He rolled over and pulled her into the crook of his arm. She lay there rigidly, breathing in the familiar scent of soap from his skin. From his touch she knew he was naked—above the waist at least. Niall never wore pyjamas, and she absolutely refused to think about the lower half. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hard muscle of his shoulder underneath her, his fingertips just brushing her arm.

Robina was trembling but she knew it wasn’t from the cold. It felt so good to be back in his arms, deliciously warm and safe, and she wondered what would have happened if Ella hadn’t been sleeping right next to them. Would she have been able to stop herself from snuggling closer and running her fingertips over the hard, once-so-familiar contours of his body? Would they have made love, then talked into the night? Would Niall have told her he still loved her? But to her dismay and chagrin, she heard his breathing deepen and realised he had fallen asleep. Suddenly she was furious. How could he? How could he just fall asleep with her in his arms? As if it meant nothing and he was completely unaffected by her? Grumpily, she rolled away from him and onto her side. It was more proof, as if she needed it, that their marriage was dead in the water.

On the other side of the bed, Niall was acutely aware of every inch of his wife’s body as she lay next to him. He smiled, thinking that everything was going according to plan. Well, almost. Okay, the cottage wasn’t exactly the way he had thought it would be, but he had known it only had one bed and that they would have to share it. He had already suggested to Ella’s grandparents that Ella stay with them tomorrow night, giving him the opportunity to get his wife on her own. He bit back a groan. If it wasn’t for Ella, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from seducing his wife and, remembering the feel of Robina’s hammering heart underneath his fingertips when he had held her close, he doubted if this time she would have pushed him away. As it was, he could do with a cold shower or a freezing walk, because there was no way he was going to be able to sleep feeling the way he did. It was driving him crazy, seeing her every day and not being able to make love to her. He couldn’t stop the memory of her long legs wrapped around his, her head thrown back, her long neck arched as she lost herself in their love-making. Did she have any idea what sweet torture it was having her back in his bed but not able to touch her? Sweet God, the sooner he had his wife back—heart and soul—the better.

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