Читать книгу His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride - Сара Крейвен, Catherine Spencer - Страница 13

AS THE arrangements for the wedding began to take shape, Darcy got the feeling that she was standing in the path of an avalanche that was slowly gathering speed and about to overwhelm her.

She had reluctantly broken the news of her coming marriage to Aunt Freddie in the uneasy expectation of being subjected to some rigid cross-examination, but, to her surprise, her aunt had simply given her a long, considering look, then remarked, half to herself, ‘Well, that certainly explains a great deal.’

Darcy, astonished, could only suppose that, with her new job looming, Aunt Freddie’s mind was on other things, although she’d offered what help she could in organising the wedding, which had to be a bonus.

There were, she thought, few others in the situation.

She was making a conscious effort to avoid Joel’s company, without actually seeming to do so, spending as much time as she could down at Kings Whitnall.

Not, she had to admit, that he’d made any real attempt to see her alone since the night when he’d placed that amazing solitaire ring on her finger.

No real trial of her resistance for her to endure.

When dinner had ended, he’d simply escorted her home by taxi, and wished her a pleasant goodnight. No hand-kissing, or any other sort of kissing that time, or since. In fact, there’d been none of the threatened intimacies, for the sake of appearances, when she was in his company. Or, not yet.

When they were together he was invariably civil, even verging towards being actually charming, she admitted reluctantly, but although Gavin, with somewhat ponderous tact, invariably made an excuse to leave them alone together at the end of the evening, her unwanted fiancé seemed to have as little desire to initiate any physical closeness as she herself could possibly wish.

Yet she was aware, all the same, of a faint niggle of bewilderment. He’d once spoken of desiring her, she thought. There’d been times too when he’d looked at her, and it had been there, a tangible thing between them.

But it was gone now. Totally erased, as if it had never existed. And he hadn’t uttered a word of dissent, then or since, about the sanctions she’d imposed on their future relationship.

She found herself wondering if Joel ever gave her a second thought when she was not actually there, in his presence, and decided that he probably didn’t. To him, this was just one more business contract among the many.

She, however, was unable to dismiss him from her own mind quite so easily. This enormous rock, for instance, was a constant reminder. It was so blatantly there that she couldn’t avoid it, she thought bitterly.

There were times, of course, when she was obliged to return to London, usually at her father’s insistence. It was during one of these visits that Lois took her to the wedding boutique where she’d hired her own bridal gown and where she forthrightly condemned the severely cut white satin suit with its tight skirt, and almost mannish lapels, that Darcy chose pretty well at random.

‘It’s chic,’ Darcy defended.

‘With a skirt you can barely walk in? You’ll hobble up the aisle as if your legs have been stapled together. Which may well be the case,’ she added affably. ‘But do you want the world to know?’

She had a brief chat to the assistant, whereupon Darcy found herself being zipped instead into an enchantingly pretty creation in billowing wild silk and chiffon.

‘If you’re really hell-bent on doing this crazy thing,’ Lois whispered grimly in the changing room, ‘then you’re going to do it properly. Look like the romantic, ethereal bride every man secretly wants.’

‘Not Joel,’ Darcy returned frostily. ‘I don’t think he does ethereal.’ She turned to the bemused assistant. ‘Have you anything that looks like a dam project in Sierra Leone?’

‘We’ll take it,’ Lois put in hastily as the assistant’s jaw dropped. Eyes glinting, she did a last twirl in the slim-fitting hyacinth-blue sheath she’d picked. ‘And I’ll have this.’

Over lunch, she fixed Darcy with a militant stare. ‘So, when are you going to introduce your future husband to your friends, lady?’

Darcy bit her lip. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’

‘Then start now,’ Lois advised cordially. ‘Mick was asking questions the other night, and I had no answers.’ She paused. ‘Have you met Joel’s best man yet? Do you even know who he’s going to be?’

Darcy probed her Caesar salad with a fork as if the contents fascinated her. ‘Well—no,’ she admitted.

Her friend sighed. ‘Honey, if you want everyone to know there’s something phoney about this wedding, then you’re going exactly the right way about it.’

‘Well, what do you suggest?’ Darcy asked defensively. ‘That we all meet up for a cosy dinner some night?’

‘I feel it might help,’ Lois said drily. ‘Cut out all those awkward introductions at the altar rail.’

Darcy winced. ‘Actually, you could be right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll mention it to Joel. I think he’ll be at the house tonight.’

‘You only think?’ Lois shook her head wearily. ‘Darcy—that says it all.’

Darcy ate her meal quietly that evening, lending only half an ear to the business talk being briskly conducted between Joel and her father.

When dinner was over, and coffee had been taken in the drawing room, Gavin made his usual discreet withdrawal, leaving the engaged couple alone.

By this time, Darcy knew the drill. A few awkward and generally silent moments would elapse, then Joel would look at his watch, thank her for an enjoyable evening, and go.

But this time, as he got to his feet, she rose too.

‘Can you spare me a few moments, please?’ Her voice seemed strained, husky. ‘I think we should talk.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ he commented lightly. ‘Are you planning to tell me you’ve changed your mind?’

‘No.’ She looked down at the carpet. ‘I’m still prepared to go through with it, if you are.’

‘Oh, I’m all for it, naturally.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So how long do I allow for this unexpected encounter?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do I let my driver wait? Or tell him to come back in the morning, perhaps?’

Her startled eyes met his. ‘Don’t be so absurd,’ she said hoarsely.

He shrugged. ‘You’ve never wanted to be alone with me before. And I can still dream.’ He re-seated himself in the corner of the sofa, stretching long legs in front of him, undoing a couple of buttons on his waistcoat as he studied her dispassionately. ‘So, what have you got to say to me?’

She’d rehearsed all afternoon, but, somehow, it didn’t make centre stage any easier. And his own attitude didn’t help, she thought resentfully.

She took an armchair, adjacent but at a safe distance, perching on the edge of it. ‘There are a number of practical details we need to discuss.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, the invitations have come from the printers, but I don’t know yet what names you want on the guest list.’ She paused. ‘Your parents, for instance. You’ve never mentioned them.’

‘You’ve never asked.’ His mouth twisted. ‘But you need not trouble yourself. They’ve both been dead for several years.’

‘Oh,’ Darcy said, after a pause. ‘Well—I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ he asked. ‘After all, you never knew them. However, it’s a kind thought. Perhaps I should treasure it for its rarity.’

He smiled at her lightly. ‘And my aunt and uncle won’t be attending either. Since Uncle Peter retired they’ve been going on adventure holidays, and this time it’s a tour of the Australian outback. And I hardly think we want to invite Emma and Harry,’ he added cynically. ‘As for the other guests—I’ll get my secretary to send you a memo. Anything else?’

She hesitated. ‘Well, I’ve asked my closest friend, Lois, to be my attendant, and her husband, Mick, one of the ushers. I—I don’t know who your best man is going to be, but I thought maybe we should all—meet.’ She paused, then added, ‘At some point.’

His brows lifted. ‘You thought?’ he queried sardonically.

‘No,’ she said stonily. ‘Not precisely. As a matter of fact, it was Lois’s idea. She and her husband are beginning to find it strange that they’ve never even been introduced to you.’ She swallowed. ‘And your best man might feel the same. About me.’

Joel tapped a thoughtful forefinger against his teeth. ‘Then, why not?’ he said slowly. ‘One of my old school mates, Greg Latimer, is acting for me. He’s married to a girl called Maisie. I’ll see how their diary stands, and come up with a few dates. Maybe you’ll do the same with your friends.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘OK. Fine. I don’t think there’s anything else. Not at this juncture anyway.’

He looked at her with faint mockery. ‘You realise you may be letting yourself in for a tricky night?’

‘A meal in a restaurant is pretty harmless.’

‘But we’ll be on show, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Lovers supposedly in love, confronted by two other couples who’ve been there, and done that already. Who can remember the exhilaration of that headlong dash to the altar. The joy of being able to say “ my husband” and “my wife”.’

There was an odd note in his voice that made her heart lurch in sudden confusion. Something which scared her.

‘Goodness,’ she said in a voice that was sharper than she intended. ‘Such unwonted eloquence.’

He sighed. ‘Darcy, this will be our first public appearance together as a couple, and the way things are they’re going to see straight through us. That is not what I want. And certainly not what we agreed,’ he added with a touch of grimness that wasn’t lost on her.

She bit her lip. ‘As they’re all such old friends, why don’t we simply come clean and tell them the truth about the marriage?’ She thought guiltily, As I’ve already done with Lois…

‘And why not take out full-page ads in all the tabloids too?’ he asked coldly. He shook his head. ‘No, darling, we play this according to our unwritten rules. In private, I forgo the delight of sleeping in your bed, and in public, you behave as if we were passionately in love.

‘And that doesn’t involve sitting several feet away from me, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights,’ he added drily.

There was an odd tingling silence. Darcy felt a shiver run from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine as his gaze met hers. Held it.

Oh, God, she thought. It was happening at last. The moment of truth had arrived, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. With him…

Joel patted the sofa beside him. ‘Come here.’ The invitation was spoken softly, but it brooked no refusal.

Slowly, mutinously, Darcy obeyed, occupying a space as far from him as the width of the sofa allowed.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Closer than that, my sweet.’ His smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘Within kissing distance, please.’

Her whole body went rigid, then she turned on him furiously. ‘You must be joking.’ She almost spat the words. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Why not? It’s going to happen sooner or later,’ he said, his tone unforgivably casual. ‘And when it does, I’d prefer you to accept the fact and not leap away from me like a frog on speed.’

‘What a charming image.’ She glared at him. ‘There’s not much anyone could teach you about romance.’

‘And I,’ he said, ‘thought that romance was the last thing you wanted—particularly from me.’ He allowed her a moment to digest that, then continued, ‘On the other hand, we should be able to produce the occasional show of spurious affection. Enough to convince the world at large that we’re in love, and even fool our friends and family, just as long as they don’t peer too closely. Agreed?’

Her gaze faltered. Fell away to the cold glitter of his diamond on her hand, reminding her once more of its significance. Of exactly what she’d committed herself to.

She said thickly, ‘I don’t seem to have much of a choice.’

There was a silence, then he said, his voice quivering with amusement, ‘Tell me something, darling. Were you put on this earth for the sole purpose of crushing my self-esteem? Because you’re doing a fabulous job.’

She said curtly, ‘I doubt there’ll be any lasting damage. Even so, it will hardly keep me awake at nights.’

‘Which leaves me wondering what might,’ he said softly. ‘In the meantime…’ He moved slightly, invitingly, stretching an arm along the cushions, and summoning her to move within its curve.

Reluctantly, Darcy complied.

There was another pause, then Joel said quite gently, ‘Sweetheart, you’re trembling. What on earth do you imagine I’m going to do to you?’ His long fingers captured her chin. Turned her to face him. ‘This is no big deal. Relax. You’ve been kissed before.’

Yes, she thought, the sweep of her lashes veiling her eyes as the breath caught in her throat. But not that often. And never since that night when Harry…

She realised that she was near enough to Joel now to feel the warmth of his lean body. To breathe the clean male scent of his skin commingled with the faint musk of the cologne he used.

These were the things that had emblazoned themselves on her senses two years ago when he’d first put his hands on her, she thought angrily, and, to her lasting shame, had reawoken her awareness as soon as they’d met again.

Part of the memories that she could not escape.

But at least now she did not have to look at him. Or see him looking at her.

As her eyes closed she felt Joel’s lips touch her hair, her temples, and move down to her cheek, light as the tracery on a butterfly’s wing, while his fingers stroked the delicate line of her jaw and throat.

Then, with equal gentleness, he kissed the corners of her inimically compressed mouth, and she felt the sharp, painful thud of her pulses as she found herself waiting…

But there was nothing to anticipate. Because Joel was straightening suddenly. Releasing her.

He said quietly, ‘There. Was that really so bad?’

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, but there was nothing to be learned from his enigmatic blue gaze.

She knew, if she was honest, that she’d admit the soft brush of his mouth on her skin had been strangely unnerving. That his forbearance had surprised her. Maybe even intrigued her a little.

Which was just as disturbing, in fact, as the knowledge that she could have drawn back at any time, and yet, for some unfathomable reason, had not done so.

However, this was not a situation for honesty, but sheer survival.

She made herself shrug. ‘Rather like banging your head against a brick wall,’ she said, with an assumption of coolness. ‘So nice when it stops.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Something tells me I’m the one banging his head against a wall,’ he drawled.

‘I don’t know what else you expect.’ There was a defensive note in her voice. ‘I can’t help it if I feel—nothing.’

‘You mean I leave you cold?’ He sounded almost politely interested. ‘Then I’ll just have to try harder, won’t I?’

Before she could move, or protest, he reached for her again, pulling her towards him, lifting her so that she was lying across him, a virtual prisoner. Letting her know, once again, the latent power of his lean body to control—to dominate.

His hand slid into the fall of her hair, twining it round his fingers, then he bent his head and took her mouth with his, effortlessly silencing her first trembling words of outrage.

His lips were still gentle, moving slowly on hers, but the demand they created was deepening with every second. He was deliberately coaxing her to open her mouth for him, she realised. To yield up its carefully guarded secrets, then lure her further, towards the danger of a surrender as unexpected as it would be devastating. He was seeking a response.

Already a strange languor was stealing over her, the tautness and the inner trembling beginning slowly to subside, as she felt the heated silken pressure of his tongue urging her lips apart. As she experienced the beat of his heart so close to her own.

As his mouth continued to caress hers, she became aware that the pulsing of the blood in her veins was quickening relentlessly. That her breasts seemed to be swelling, the tumescent nipples grazed by the lace cups of her bra, as if reliving that long-ago brush of his fingers which still had the power to humiliate her.

And, at the same time, other bad memories were suddenly reasserting themselves too. Reminding her forcefully that she could not let this happen.

That what remained of her taut control had to be maintained at all costs.

Because she was remembering another mouth, wet and greedy, fastening itself on hers. Hands dragging and tearing at her clothing. Her own voice, scared and muffled, saying, ‘Harry—no, please don’t. You can’t. Please don’t—’

The stuffiness inside the car. The feeling that she was stifled, unable to breathe properly.

She remembered trying to struggle—to get Harry away from her, off her, and her instinct telling her that he wasn’t paying any heed. That all her scared protests were going to be ignored.

And then the shock. The insult of a pain she’d never imagined as he thrust into her without tenderness or consideration.

And that was what men did, she thought as the anguish and rage came welling up in her all over again. That was where all the kissing led. What happened when the sweet talk finally turned sour, and they took what they wanted in any way available to them. Even by force.

She’d sworn to herself in the miserable and guilty aftermath that she would never let it happen to her again. And she had meant it. Then, and now.

Most of all now.

As Joel gathered her even closer, murmuring softly against her lips, she lifted both hands and braced them against his chest, pushing at him with near violence.

He raised his head immediately, relaxing his hold on her, his brows drawing together in a faint frown. ‘What’s the matter?’

She managed somehow to sound almost composed. ‘I think this has gone quite far enough, that’s all.’

‘How strange,’ he said, drily. ‘I thought we’d barely got started.’

‘Then you were wrong.’ She freed herself completely, and moved back to the far end of the sofa, conscious of the uneven thud of her heartbeat. ‘It’s over. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d quite like to go to bed.’

Joel’s look of concern was replaced by the mocking grin that rubbed her nerve endings raw. ‘Really? My ambitions hadn’t got beyond the rug in front of the fire for an hour or so. But a bed would certainly be more comfortable—and convenient.’

Darcy hated the sudden heat that blazed in her face. ‘That’s not even remotely amusing.’

He leaned back against the cushions, the blue eyes suddenly hooded. ‘No,’ he said after a pause. ‘I don’t think it is, at that. But it’s not a federal case either. So, what I ask myself is—why should one fairly muted attempt at a kiss make you so uptight?’

‘A dislike of being mauled, perhaps.’

His brows rose. ‘By everyone, or just me?’

‘By anyone,’ Darcy returned. ‘But especially you.’ She got to her feet.

‘I’ll show you out.’

Joel followed her into the hall. ‘So you still felt nothing?’ he asked in a tone of mild curiosity. ‘Not even the slightest stirring in the blood?’

‘All you aroused was my profound indifference,’ she said icily. ‘Goodnight, Mr Castille.’

As she reached for the heavy security lock, he came to stand beside her, his arm snaking out and drawing her towards him, while a practised hand slid under her sweater to find the still engorged peaks of her excited breasts.

His exploration only lasted one brief moment in time, but just that fleeting stroke of his fingers across her taut nipples made her body clench in a dark, shocked need she had never known before. Nor ever wanted to know. A sudden desire that she had not imagined could exist. Especially within herself.

He said softly, ‘And you tell lies, Miss Langton. But what the hell, if that’s really how you want to play the game? And there’s no need to panic,’ he added sardonically. ‘Because I shan’t ask again.’

He paused, allowing her to assimilate that. ‘On the other hand, you can hardly blame me for trying.’ His tone was almost casual. ‘Willing or unwilling, you’re still very beautiful. Now, sleep well, if you can.’

He opened the door, then turned on the doorstep and looked back at her, his mouth suddenly set and the blue eyes like ice chips.

‘And the marriage still stands,’ he told her with sudden harshness. ‘So make your mind up about that. And, if kisses are taboo, start practising a few smiles instead. After all, darling, we’re going to be blissfully happy.

‘Aren’t we?’

And he walked down to the waiting car, leaving Darcy slumped back against the wall, her legs shaking under her as she stared after him.

The marriage still stands…

His parting words continued to reverberate in her head as she closed the door, and went slowly up to her room.

Dear God, she thought, the breath catching in her throat. What have I done?

I shan’t ask again.

He’d said that too, but dared she trust him after this evening? That was the question that haunted her as she undressed and got into bed.

Those careful kisses, she thought bitterly, had been planned as a prelude to enjoying a little casual sex beside the fire. He’d shamelessly admitted as much.

But, for her, sex could never be either casual or enjoyable.

Not when she was still haunted by the memory of those terrible brutal minutes with Harry and their aftermath. The events that had wrecked her innocence forever, and still clouded her life, even now.

Because they’d given Joel a hold over her. Her visit to Harry’s stag party was still a secret between them, no less potent because it was never mentioned. But it was something that he could use against her if she tried to disrupt their agreement at this late stage. Even the threat would be enough.

The marriage still stands…

He’d said it, and he meant it, and she had to accept that, no matter how it might tear her apart.

She turned over, thumping the pillow, trying to find a cool place for her burning face. And a temporary oblivion for her restive, uneasy body.

The body that Joel had so effortlessly, so cynically, aroused a few hours ago. Leaving her in a torment she was ashamed to acknowledge, even to her most secret self.

She now knew altogether more than she wanted to know about the unique masculine scent and taste of him. The way it felt to be held in his arms. The intimate touch of his hands…

And while all that might be difficult to forget, she could at least ensure that it never happened again. Prove to him that kisses were indeed taboo.

From now on he had to be kept at a serious distance, she told herself with determination. She had to rebuild the barriers between them, which had proved so ineffective just now. Rebuild and strengthen them, so that she was never again guilty of that helpless physical reaction to him, which she’d been unable either to reject or control.

Because, in spite of what had just happened, they were still strangers to each other, and that was how they would remain until the marriage ended.

When, at last, she would be free of Joel Castille. Free of him—forever.