The Married Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page B

and nowhere else. He had wanted her physically. There was no way he could have hidden, or faked, the passionate desire he had felt for her. And that must have made the rest of his scheme so much easier for him to carry out.
    The pain that came along with the rush of memory drove all thought of common sense from her mind and instead had her spitting at him in blind rage.
    ‘And I suppose that you’ve been living a pure and celibate life for the last six months!’
    He actually looked taken aback by her attack. It even silenced him, and she watched him withdraw into himself, shutters coming down behind the gleaming jet eyes, hiding his thoughts from her.
    ‘Nothing to say, Damon? I thought not. Ever heard of the saying about pots calling kettles black?’
    ‘I know the saying, yes. But I do not see its relevance to the current situation.’
    He had the nerve to look innocent—and it was unnerving just how innocent he could appear, with his deep, dark eyes wide open in apparent ingenuousness.
    For a brief second Sarah closed her own lids against the pain of memory. Against the hated recollection of the moment that Aristotle Nicolaides had revealed the truth about his son’s relationship with Eugenia Stakis. About the marriage that had been planned for so long and that would unite the fortunes of the two Greek dynasties as well as the two lovers. In a moment, he had explained just why Damon had insisted that this pragmatic, purely business deal of a marriage should be kept secret from everyone.
    But of course Damon didn’t even know that his poor deceived wife had any knowledge of his machiavellian behaviour and so he still thought he could get away with pretending he was blameless.
    ‘Of course you don’t.’
    Opening her eyes again, but carefully avoiding meeting any lying glance that Damon might send in her direction, she swung away, turning her attention to the rumpled bed before her.
    ‘I didn’t give Jason free run of my house!’ she said abruptly, covering the savage bite of misery with a sudden rush into action as she snatched up a pillow and shook it roughly out of its pale gold case. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t even have given him a key if I’d known the use he was going to put it to.’
    ‘But, as you’ve made only too plain, the way you’ve lived your life this past six months is no business of mine.’
    Damon’s voice had grown colder by the second. Now it sounded positively glacial, sending icy shivers sliding down Sarah’s spine.
    She managed some unintelligible murmur that he could take as agreement or not as he wished and dumped the denuded pillow on the floor, flinging the cotton case after it. It was as she reached for the crumpled sheet that a sudden recollection of how she had felt as she’d stood outside on the landing and heard the sound of Jason’s voice attacked without warning, making her sway weakly, fingers clenching on the bedding until the knuckles showed white.
    ‘Sarah?’
    Damon must have been watching her every move because he stepped forward, reaching her before she had even realised herself that she was no longer steady on her feet.
    ‘Sarah!’ he said again, his voice rough with some emotion that she couldn’t begin to name.
    There was anger in there, but at who? And it was blended with a whole range of feelings that made her head whirl just trying to separate them.
    But she was weak enough not to resist when he gathered her into his arms, held her close against him, her cheek resting on his shirt, one hand cradling the back of her head.
    ‘Sarah, the bastard isn’t worth it! Don’t waste your tears on him.’
    Tears?
    Somehow Sarah edged a hand up to touch her face and find that Damon had spoken nothing less than the truth. Her skin was wet with tears that she had been unaware of letting escape, her eyelashes spiked into damply clinging clumps.
    They were the tears that had been threatening ever since she had pushed open the bedroom door a crack and seenJason—the