Читать книгу His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride - Сара Крейвен, Catherine Spencer - Страница 15

DARCY LEANED back, trying to relax, but her skirt had ridden up over her knees, and she adjusted it instinctively, her lips tightening as she realised that Joel was watching with amused interest.

‘They say,’ he remarked, ‘that women do that not to hide their legs, but to have them noticed.’

She said coldly, ‘Then what total nonsense “they” talk.’

‘You sound a little fractious,’ he said pleasantly. ‘But that might be because you’re tired. I must see to it you have an early night.’

Darcy straightened her shoulders. ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she told him crisply. ‘Not tired at all, so please don’t concern yourself.’

‘That could be a problem,’ he said. ‘Because a couple of hours ago, I promised to cherish you. I remember it perfectly.’

‘A form of words,’ Darcy said dismissively, ‘which don’t mean a thing.’ She had an inward image of the vicar’s reproachful face, and made a hasty amendment. ‘At least, not to us. We should concentrate on the other promises we made some weeks ago, when this ridiculous farce began.’

There was a silence, then Joel said quietly, ‘Darcy, do you intend to continue in this vein for the foreseeable future, or could we introduce a note of civility into our married life? Make some attempt to get along together?’

She didn’t look at him. ‘I see no problem with that.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ There was a touch of grimness in his tone.

She turned her head, and gazed fixedly out of the window. She thought she heard him sigh, but couldn’t be sure.

She bit her lip. She should be the one with regrets. And Joel had little enough to complain about. He was her nominal husband, and Gavin’s legal son-in-law, which should keep the Werner Langton board quiet. And that was all that was required.

Before too long, the smooth motion of the car, the cushioned comfort of the seat and the rush of the passing landscape produced their own soporific effect, and Darcy found her eyes closing. But she wasn’t going to actually sleep, she told herself drowsily. Of course she wasn’t, because where Joel Castille was concerned she needed to keep her wits about her.

The next thing she knew was Joel’s voice saying with faint amusement, ‘Wake up, Darcy, we’re nearly there.’

She sat up instantly, pushing at her hair with a defensive hand. ‘I knew that, thank you.’

His brows lifted. ‘Fibber,’ he said softly. ‘But I have to tell you that you look very lovely when you’re not being tired. You even snore beautifully.’

She said between her teeth, ‘I wasn’t really asleep and I do not snore.’

His lips twitched. ‘Of course not, sweetheart. Whatever you say.’

She sent him a fulminating look, then, still disorientated, took a belated glance out of the car window. And stiffened. Because there was no sign of the quiet Chelsea square she was expecting. On the contrary, the car seemed to be caught up in the approach to a major airport.

She turned on Joel. ‘What’s happening? Where are we?’

‘Just coming into Heathrow.’

‘Heathrow?’ Darcy stared at him, her forehead puckered in bewilderment. ‘Are you being dropped off here for some business trip?’

‘By no means. We’re here to catch a flight to the Caribbean for our honeymoon.’

She was wide awake now, and sitting upright, her heart beating like a trip hammer.

She said, ‘You don’t really mean that. You can’t.’

‘I certainly do. After the wedding ceremony, the happy couple depart for a week or two of blissful seclusion. That’s the convention.’

‘But this isn’t a conventional marriage.’ She managed to keep her voice steady.

‘In some ways it will be,’ he told her coolly. ‘And this is one of them. I thought some relaxation in the sun might do us both good. And I think you’ll like Augustina. It’s a very small island belonging to a property developer I met in the States a few years back. He’s built a hotel there, and scattered a dozen or so thatched bungalows through the grounds.

‘The emphasis is on peace and quiet, and I’m all for that. Besides, your father thinks you’ve been looking pale and tense recently. He feels you need a break.’

But not like this. Never like this…

She said huskily, ‘You didn’t think to mention this scheme to me in advance?’

‘I decided to surprise you instead,’ he said silkily.

‘Surprise,’ she said between her teeth, ‘is not the word.’ She shook her head. ‘I see now why I had to get a new passport in such a hurry. Business trips, Dad told me.’

‘So there will be,’ Joel said. His smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘But for once, I thought pleasure could come before business.’

‘What about my luggage?’ she said, her desperation increasing. ‘I’ve nothing suitable packed. My summer things are all in London.’

‘Your father arranged for Mrs Inman to put some swimwear and leisure gear in a case for you,’ he said. ‘And there are shops at the hotel. You can blow my credit cards to hell and back.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

But she was lying. She felt no sense of anticipation about any of it, just sick with fright.

‘Our check-in’s over there,’ Joel told her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I—I see.’

I can’t do this, she thought frantically. I have to get away.

The terminal was heaving as usual. It shouldn’t be impossible to give Joel the slip, she thought, trying to calculate whether she had sufficient cash on her to pay for a cab to London. Once she got there, she could go to Lois—take cover there. Joel wouldn’t follow her. She was sure of it. Because that would reveal that his bride had preferred to run out on him, rather than accompany him on their honeymoon, and his pride would never allow that.

She made herself glance around deliberately casually, then consult her watch. ‘Have I got time to buy a couple of books?’

‘You feel time may hang heavy on your hands?’ he enquired ironically, then relented. ‘Why not wait until we get to the island? They’ll sell books at the hotel.’

‘I have the flight to get through first,’ she reminded him coolly, and saw his eyes narrow slightly. ‘May I get something for you? A newspaper or a magazine?’

‘No, thank you,’ Joel said too courteously. ‘Why not pick up a game of Scrabble or Snakes and Ladders, as well, just in case things get really boring?’

‘Good thinking,’ she said sweetly. ‘Or even Monopoly. That takes a very long time. Never a dull moment.’

She walked off, taking care not to hurry. When she risked a glance over her shoulder, the crowds had closed in, and Joel was nowhere to be seen.

Which was just what she wanted. She looked around, trying to get her bearings—the most direct route to a taxi rank.

She was nearly at the exit, when a hand fell on her shoulder, halting her.

‘Still looking for the bookshop, darling?’ Joel asked pleasantly. ‘I think you’re going in the wrong direction. And I’d hate you to get lost.’ He took her hand firmly in his. ‘So let’s deal with the rest of the formalities, shall we? Together? Now?’

She swallowed. ‘Please,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’

‘I’m offering you a holiday in the sun, sweetheart,’ he drawled. ‘And I’ve no intention of going alone. And if you really need something to read on the plane, then I’ve brought some stuff about the island. By the time we get there you should be an expert.’

They were, of course, travelling first class, and the tall, attractive brunette who told them she was Fiona, their cabin hostess, was serving them champagne, accompanied by a red rose for Darcy.

She was smiling and professional, but Darcy intercepted the envious look she was sent as the girl turned away to deal with other passengers. A look that shouted she knew Darcy was on honeymoon with the most attractive man on the aircraft, and frankly wished she was in her place.

Not nearly as much as I do, Darcy silently assured her.

She sipped her champagne and began to look through the information on Augustina, her heart sinking.

It certainly seemed idyllic, she thought. An environment designed for couples to enjoy romantic seclusion, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Each of the bungalows had a private swimming pool and its own plot of tropical garden, leading down to the long stretch of sandy beach.

Meals could be taken on the veranda, or up at the hotel, depending on the whim of the individual guest.

In addition, she read, there was dancing each evening, a casino, plus a golf course, and horse-riding facilities near by. What more could anyone ask? she thought ironically.

‘Ever done any scuba diving?’ Joel asked.

She’d been aware he was watching her. ‘No, never.’

‘Then Augustina could be a great place to learn. I hear the reef is spectacular.’

‘Then perhaps I’ll try it,’ she said. ‘Some time.’

One detail she’d picked up on which gave her a modicum of hope was that all the bungalows had two bedrooms, each with its own en suite bathroom.

Perhaps Joel intended to keep his word after all, she told herself. On the other hand, he might assume that palm trees, and surf whispering on a moonlit beach, would work some kind of magic, and only one room would be needed.

If so, he would soon find out how wrong he was. She was not in the market for seduction, however expert. And she never would be.

It was getting dark when they finally arrived, the last stage of the journey being by boat.

She was reluctantly impressed. The hotel was luxurious, but the atmosphere was laid-back, and the staff welcoming and friendly. The manager himself came out to greet them.

‘Mr Castille, it’s good to see you again. Mr Ferrars has had to go to Miami, but he’ll be back in a day or two, and he says I’m to look after you personally, and your lovely bride.’

He turned to Darcy, and just for a moment she saw a faint flicker in his eyes, as if she wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Or whom, she thought. ‘Welcome to Augustina, Mrs Castille. I hope this is the first visit of many.’

She shook hands, murmuring something polite, and wondering.

A smiling man called Vince loaded them, with their luggage, onto a vehicle like an upmarket golf buggy for the short trip to their bungalow.

She said, ‘I didn’t realise you’d been here before.’

‘I came to the opening,’ he said. ‘Great party.’

‘Your companion enjoyed it too, I expect.’ She said it before she could stop herself. My God, she thought, I actually sounded as if I was jealous. That I cared if he’d brought another girl here.

‘She appeared to have a good time,’ Joel drawled. ‘We both did.’ He paused. ‘Do you want me to go into details?’

‘No!’ The denial was almost explosive.

His voice was cool. ‘Then let’s drop the subject.’ He paused. ‘And we’ve arrived.’

Vince helped her down from the buggy, then carried in the luggage.

Darcy made herself follow, trying not to look as if her legs were shaking under her. Because this was real seclusion. She hadn’t seen another person on the way here, or even a light.

She walked through sliding glass doors, straight into a lamplit living area that occupied the full width of the bungalow, and was comfortably if simply furnished with deeply cushioned rattan chairs and sofas. In addition, she noticed, one corner was occupied by a compact but fully equipped kitchen. At the rear of the room double doors led to a passage, where Vince was waiting enquiringly.

‘The bedrooms are through there,’ Joel told her. ‘One each side, and identical. Any preference?’

She shook her head mutely, speechless with relief, and heard him briskly directing Vince to put her case in the right-hand room, and his own in the other.

It was very warm, and the darkness outside seemed to be closing in. She’d taken off her jacket on the boat, but her blouse was sticking to her and her mouth felt dry.

Vince went past her, beaming at the money in his hand, calling a cheerful goodnight as he went. Moments later she heard the buggy wheeze into life, then fade into the distance, and knew that she and Joel were alone.

Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she made her way to the right-hand room. Her case was standing by the range of fitted wardrobes along one wall. The wide bed was flanked by two night tables, and made up with sheets and pillows in dazzling white, with a matching coverlet neatly folded across the foot.

An electric fan turned quietly on the ceiling, and the gauzy white drapes at the tall window stirred lazily in the draught.

Apart from that—nothing. Just space, and peace.

Investigating further, Darcy discovered a frankly glamorous bathroom, tiled in white and gold, with a massive tub and separate roomy shower. The shelves above the twin wash basins held an array of expensive toiletries, and there were stacks of fluffy towels. The robe hanging behind the door was white towelling too.

No lock or bolt on the door, she registered, or on the bedroom door either. Clearly, seclusion had its limits.

Well, she was here now, and she would just have to make the best of it, she thought, unzipping her case and beginning to transfer its contents to the wardrobes and drawers.

Mrs Inman had done her proud, she realised wryly. As well as bikinis and sarongs, the housekeeper had packed several casual skirts and tops, and a couple of her favourite filmy dresses with their accompanying bags and strappy sandals.

And also, wrapped in tissue and tied with a ribbon, a nightgown, filmy as a cloud in ivory chiffon, with a bodice and straps made from tiny silk flowers, which she’d never seen before.

She was staring down at it, when she became aware she was being watched.

She turned to see Joel leaning in the doorway. He’d changed into a pair of cream denim jeans, worn low on the hips. He was barefoot, and the rest of him was tanned, muscular and bare too.

She swallowed. ‘I’d be glad if you’d knock in future.’

‘And I’d be equally grateful if you’d chill out,’ he retorted. ‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’ He paused. ‘I came to see if you fancied a swim. Because the pool’s right there outside the windows.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’ She dropped the nightdress back into her case as if it had scorched her fingers.

‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked.

‘It’s—very pretty,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know where it came from.’

‘From me,’ he said. ‘A small gift to the bride from the groom. After all, a wedding night is a special occasion. I thought you should have something equally special to wear.’

‘Thank you.’ Her throat muscles felt tight. ‘I—I didn’t expect…I mean, I’m afraid I didn’t buy anything for you.’

‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘For the record, I always sleep naked.’

She continued not to look at him. ‘I think that’s too much information.’ She tried to sound casual, but missed by miles. ‘And no, I don’t want to swim, thanks.’

‘Fine,’ Joel said equably. ‘I’ll add it to the list.’

‘What list?’

‘All the activities you’d prefer not to take part in.’ There was faint mockery in his tone. ‘Do you want to order dinner here, or go up to the hotel?’

‘I’m not that hungry.’

‘Well, I certainly am,’ he said. ‘So, why don’t we just settle for tomorrow’s breakfast?’ ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The fridge in the kitchen. Sometimes people have their reasons for not wishing to be disturbed in the mornings, but still need to eat at some point. A lot of honeymoon couples stay here. Therefore there’s always ham, eggs and stuff available.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, while I have my swim, why don’t you cook me some food, like a good wife should?’

She did look at him then, startled. ‘I’ll see you in hell first.’

‘I’d tread carefully, sweetheart,’ he said softly. ‘Or it could turn into a hell of your own making.’ He paused. ‘I’ll have coffee too—strong and black. And two eggs, over easy. Sunny side up might be pushing it under the circumstances.’

He turned to go. ‘And shout loudly when it’s ready,’ he threw back at her over his shoulder. ‘When I’m alone, I tend not to wear anything in the pool either. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’

She watched him go, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She had indeed been warned, she thought. Alarm bells were sounding all over the place.

She took off her suit skirt and blouse, exchanging them for a knee-length blue skirt and a matching V-necked top, both cotton. She discarded her tights too, slipping her feet into heelless leather sandals.

The idea of waiting on Joel held no appeal, but under the circumstances she couldn’t afford to provoke him, she realised, heading reluctantly in the direction of the kitchen.

She filled the kettle and set it to boil, then put a large frying pan on the hob, letting it heat up before adding two thick slices of ham.

She’d fully intended allowing him to eat alone, as a kind of silent protest, but as the ham began to fry the smell made her mouth water, so she reluctantly capitulated and added an extra rasher to the pan for herself.

She put plates to warm, spooned an expensive brand of fresh coffee into the waiting cafetière, cut a bread stick into chunks, then took mats and cutlery through to the small round table in the living room.

Pride wouldn’t allow her to let the food burn, whatever the temptation, so the ham was golden brown, the eggs perfectly cooked and the coffee strong and aromatic. She nodded with satisfaction, then put her head back and yelled.

He appeared promptly, his dark hair glistening, and she took the seat opposite him, stone-faced.

‘This is better than terrific,’ Joel commented after his first appreciative mouthful. ‘Did you ever tell me you could cook?’

She kept her eyes on her plate. ‘Why else do you suppose I was on Drew Maidstone’s boat?’

‘I thought that was open to conjecture.’ His tone was dry.

‘You caught me once making a fool of myself,’ she said in a low voice. ‘That does not make me a universal slag.’

‘I caught you twice,’ he said. ‘But who’s counting?’ He paused. ‘One of these days or nights, you’ll have to tell me just what you see in Metcalfe.’

‘I see your cousin’s husband,’ Darcy said expressionlessly. ‘Is that enough for you?’

‘Yes,’ he said. Then added, ‘If it were true.’

And they finished the meal in silence.

Afterwards, Joel insisted on loading the dishwasher, a courtesy she could have happily foregone. The kitchen was too small to accommodate two people who weren’t on familiar terms, she thought, and she had constantly to flatten herself against the units to avoid brushing against him. Worse, she was sure that he was quite aware of her struggles and secretly amused by them.

Once the machine was loaded, there was little to do but follow him back into the living room. She sat down on one of the sofas, feeling as if she was on a knife-edge.

There was a brief silence, then, ‘It’s been quite a day,’ Joel said, stretching indolently, the movement emphasising the lithe toughness of his body. It occurred to her that without the formal armour of business clothes he was formidable indeed, and she felt her mouth dry suddenly. He smiled at her. ‘That early night I mentioned seems like a good idea.’

‘Yes.’ She pantomimed a yawn. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ She stood up. ‘There don’t seem to be any keys round here. Or keyholes either. How do we lock up?’

‘We don’t,’ he said. ‘There’s no crime.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Well—goodnight.’

When she reached her room she was as breathless as if she’d been running. A shower, not too warm, could be soothing, she thought, because she felt as stretched as a wire, and she really needed to sleep. Because there was tomorrow to face, and all the days and nights after that.

She used some shower gel that smelled exquisitely of carnations, and after she’d dried herself languidly on one of the enormous bath sheets she scented her skin with the matching body lotion.

Joel’s gift was the only nightgown she had with her, so, reluctantly, she put it on, then went back into the bedroom. The bed was soft, and welcomed her like a friend. She drew the sheet up to her waist and lay staring up at the ceiling, thoughts, impressions and snatches of conversation tumbling through her mind. And achieving precisely nothing, she decided, except, maybe, to make her feel more on edge than ever.

She needed to stop thinking, turn off the lamp and go to sleep. Because things would be bound to look better in the morning.

But even as she reached for the switch, she saw her door opening silently and Joel sauntering into the room.

He was wearing a dark red silk robe that reached mid-thigh, and nothing else. ‘Don’t say you weren’t warned,’ he’d told her, and now her worst nightmare was coming true.

As he reached the side of the bed, Darcy heard her voice coming from some far distance. ‘What are you doing here? Get out of my room. Get out now.’

‘No chance,’ he said softly. ‘You’re my wife, Darcy, and this is our wedding night. And I think I’ve waited for you quite long enough. Don’t you?’