Master of the House — Margaret Callaghan

'Ella Keegan,' Jack murmured. `Mrs Ella Keegan. My wife. To love and to cherish. Love...that's it isn't it, Ella? You love me. And ditching my name was a desperate attempt to deny it. A new name, a new husband, a new life. Only it didn't work. Because you love me.'

'No.' He was miles out in his assessment and yet devastatingly close to the truth.

'Yes Ella. Yes, yes, yes?' And then he kissed her. Her eyes flew open in alarm, meeting his gaze, flinching from the knowledge in his eyes, knowledge and a fleeting surprise that he'd masked in an instant. And then he was holding her, kissing her, wanting her and the heat ran through her like a flame. He wanted her. Want. Not love, she reminded herself. Never love. All gone. She'd killed that love years ago...