Читать книгу A Husband Of Convenience - JACQUELINE BAIRD, Jacqueline Baird - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

SHE stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The hall was square and small, with a door leading off either side, one to the dining room, the other to the sitting room, and to the back of the hall was the kitchen. It was a typical double-fronted stone-built farmhouse from the last century, with low oak-beamed ceilings and walls a foot thick. She guessed Conan would be in the sitting room, and, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she opened the door and walked in.

‘Josie! How are you today?’ Conan’s dark eyes swept over her, lingering a fraction too long to be innocent on the proud thrust of her breasts revealed by the clinging knit sweater.

His conventional polite greeting didn’t fool Josie for a moment; she doubted very much he was here simply to offer condolences. He had never approved of her relationship with Charles, and the Conans of this world did not waste their valuable time on young girls they didn’t like, unless the Major had sent him. But then she couldn’t see this man doing anyone’s bidding.

He was standing in the middle of the room, his broad-shouldered frame clad in a soft black wool roll-neck sweater and hip-hugging black jeans. The colour, while suitable for a man in mourning for his half-brother, only served to reinforce his innate powerful sexuality. A shiver of not fear but something more basic made the fine hair on her skin stand erect.

‘Very well, thank you,’ she replied stiltedly, fighting against her peculiar reaction to this man. Then, seeing the cynical twist of his hard mouth, she realised how callous she must sound.

‘Well, obliviously not well,’ she corrected, ‘I mean, Charles is dead, and I...well...’ She was babbling, but did not seem able to stop. ‘The funeral. You want to discuss...’

‘Hush. I understand.’ He stepped towards her. Josie tried to step back, his height intimidating her, but she was brought up hard against the closed door.

Conan noted her reaction. His hard mouth twisted faintly and then he turned and strolled across to the nearest armchair and lowered himself down onto the seat. He glanced back at her and gestured with one large hand to the sofa opposite. ‘Please, Josie, come and sit down; you have nothing to fear from me. I simply want to talk.’

Warily she looked at him; her violet eyes met his bland gaze and she was somewhat reassured.

‘The funeral apart, I have something else to discuss with you on behalf of the Major and myself, and it will be in your own best interests to listen.’

She straightened her shoulders and walked across to sit down on the sofa. ‘I can’t imagine us having anything to discuss, but I’m listening,’ she said flatly.

‘I know this will be hard for you so soon after hearing of the death of Charles, but I have spoken to my father, and we agreed. Under the circumstances the best solution is that you and I get married as soon as possible.’

At the mention of marriage her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened in shock and looked on the man lounging in her father’s armchair, his long legs stretched out before him in nonchalant ease. How did he do it? He looked so cool, so sophisticated, as though he were discussing the weather—instead of asking an almost complete stranger to marry him.

‘Marry you! You must be mad!’ she exclaimed. She could not believe what she was hearing. Was he joking or what? Surely he could not be that cruel. But his dark eyes trapped and held her own, and she knew he was deadly serious.

‘Mad, no; practical, yes.’ he drawled hardily.

She lowered her head, avoiding the determination in his eyes. Her gaze skated over his long body. He was all male and somehow threatening. What did he mean? Why on earth would he want to marry her?

‘Why?’ She was surprised to hear herself ask that. She should have said no and immediately corrected her mistake. ‘No. Definitely not. Charles was the—’ She got no further as Conan cut in.

‘I know Charles was the man you loved.’ Actually she’d been going to say he was the father of her unborn child, but she did not correct his assumption as he continued. ‘But we have to think of the living, not the dead. You are to have a child. A Zarcourt. Surely you must realise that when you blurted out that you were pregnant in front of my father you lost any chance you had of doing anything about your pregnancy?’ he prompted cynically.

‘Doing anything about it?’ she queried.

Conan shook his dark head. ‘I mean an abortion; after all, you can’t be more than a few weeks pregnant.’

‘Six to be exact,’ she fumed. ‘And if the Major wants me to have an abortion he can go jump.’ The thought had crossed her mind when she’d first discovered her condition, but it hadn’t taken a split second for her to dismiss the notion entirely. She could never do such a thing.

‘Much as I would like to see my father take a hike—’ his lips twitched with amusement ‘—you misunderstood me. Quite the reverse is true. My father wants the child, and he usually gets what he wants, as you’re about to find out. His grief at his eldest son’s death is only made bearable by the fact you’re carrying his child. There is no way he will allow his grandchild to be born a bastard,’ he opined, adding cynically, ‘Especially not darling Charles’s offspring.’

Josie was stunned by his words, but, knowing the Major, she could see the truth in his comment. But what she couldn’t understand was why he would agree with his father. It was obvious, even from her brief acquaintance with Conan, that there was no love lost between him and his father. This summer had been the first time Josie had ever seen him. He obviously had very little to do with his family.

‘But surely you don’t agree with him?’ she asked. ‘I mean, it can’t matter to you. You don’t even live here.’

‘No, I don’t, but I should,’ he responded bluntly with a degree of bitterness Josie could not fail to recognise. So it was all the more surprising when he asked coolly, ‘Do you like living in this house, Josie?’

‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ What was he talking about now? she wondered, looking around the familiar room, her eyes eventually returning to Conan. He sat forward in his chair, his dark head bent, apparently staring at his hands clasped loosely between his splayed thighs. The only sounds were the steady tick of the grandfather clock and the logs crackling and burning in the open fire.

‘This farmhouse was the family home of the Major. He lived here with his first wife—Charles was born here.’ He raised his head. ‘I don’t suppose he told you that?’ he queried with a grim smile.

‘No, no, he didn’t,’ Josie said, not sure where the conversation was going.

‘I’m not surprised. Contrary to the impression, my father, the Major, likes to give,’ he drawled sardonically, ‘the Major was not always owner of Beeches Manor. He only acquired that position by marrying my mother. Perhaps if I explain the family history it will answer your question as to why I want to marry you.’

Josie wished he would. She couldn’t understand what he was getting at, or his obvious cynicism. But there was no mistaking the hardness in his eyes, and an implacable determination that Josie found vaguely disturbing.

‘My full name is Conan Devine Zarcourt. Conan from the Celtic meaning wisdom, and Devine being my mother’s maiden name. For centuries, Devines have owned the Beeches Manor estate, but my grandfather and mother were the last of the line. When she married Major Zarcourt, the Major and Charles moved into the Manor with my mother and grandfather and rented this house out as a holiday home. I was born a year after their wedding, and I don’t think it was long after that my mother realised she had made a mistake.

‘As a young child I was not aware there was anything wrong in my parents’ relationship. But then my grandfather was still alive, and any coldness on my father’s part was more than made up for by my grandfather. Plus my mother packed me off to boarding-school when I was seven.’

‘How awful for you,’ Josie offered; the thought of a young boy away from home at such a tender age seemed so cruel.

One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but you are wrong.’ His hard-eyed gaze caught hers, denying her sympathy. ‘My parents and I were never that close. It was my grandfather I missed. For years I had grown up with the sure knowledge that the Manor would be mine. Grandfather Devine never stopped telling me so. He died when I was eleven, but unfortunately he had signed the Manor over to my mother a few years before he died to avoid death duties, on the strict understanding it was to be held in trust for me, as the only Devine. But my mother had other ideas. As soon as Grandfather died she took off with her lover. Apparently, in her desperation to get a speedy divorce from the Major she agreed to break the trust and sign the Manor over to him. She lives in New Zealand now, I believe.’

‘But how could she do that?’ Josie asked, horrified.

‘Quite easily, apparently. When I came of age at eighteen the Major took great delight in telling me the whole story. He had married my mother for the Manor. I was a mistake, a complication he didn’t need, and he even questioned my paternity. He’d joined his own farmland to the Manor and managed the whole estate for years, and he intended to go on doing so until Charles showed an interest in it. Then he was going to pass the whole lot on to his eldest and favourite son, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it—’

‘I can’t believe your mother or the Major would behave like that,’ Josie cut in. She didn’t particularly care for the old man, but she couldn’t believe he would treat his own child so shabbily.

‘Ah, Josie, how you do like to think the best of people. It is one of your many charms,’ he said with a wry smile, before adding, ‘But, believe me, everything I have told you is the truth. And now, with your help, I have the chance to get my heritage back, and I intend to take it...’

She glanced across at him, her violet eyes caught and held by the burning intensity in the depths of his. Inwardly she shivered. There was something totally implacable about him. As for her helping him, Josie still failed to see what it had to do with her, or why Conan wanted to marry her.

‘But with Charles dead you will inherit everything anyway,’ she said cautiously, letting her gaze drop to a spot past his shoulder. Perhaps she was still too shocked to think clearly, because she felt she’d missed the point somewhere. But she wasn’t about to get embroiled any further. She had enough problems of her own. ‘I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but it has absolutely nothing to do with me,’ Josie continued firmly, straightening her shoulders. She’d no intention of marrying him or anyone else, and it was time she asserted herself.

In one lithe movement Conan left his seat and joined her on the sofa. His closeness unnerved her. Her body tensed as his large hand caught her chin, turning her face to his.

His dark eyes narrowed intently on her face. ‘But it has everything to do with you. I know this is a terrible time for you, Josie, and I would do anything to avoid causing you any more pain, believe me.’ His face darkened into an expression that made Josie wish she hadn’t tried to dismiss him so bluntly. ‘But I want what’s rightfully mine, and you are the means by which I will get it,’ he informed her ruthlessly.

A chill shivered its way down the length of her spine as he dropped his hand from her chin. ‘And we must get this settled quickly. Unfortunately time is the one commodity we do not have in your condition.’

Josie grimaced at the reminder.

‘Let me spell it out for you. The Major and I had a long talk last night, and we’ve made a deal. I marry you, give your child the Zarcourt name, and in return I get my rightful inheritance back immediately. Otherwise he will leave everything to you on his death, provided you produce a son; if not, he’ll leave it to the church, the dogs’ home—anyone other than me.’

Josie was lost for words. She could only gaze at Conan in dumb amazement. He couldn’t be serious!

‘Well, do you agree? Will you marry me?’ he asked, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa and clasping her shoulder. ‘Or perhaps, like most women, your mercenary little soul wants to take the chance on giving birth to a son and keeping it for yourself,’ he added cynically.

‘I would never do that!’ Josie cried, finally finding her voice, insulted that Conan should even think such a thing. ‘I don’t have a mercenary bone in my body,’ she informed him, jerking around to the side and shrugging his hand off her shoulder in the process.

‘In that case, Josie, what’s the difference? One Zarcourt is as good as another to be a father to your child, and at least it will keep the poor kid in the family.’

Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer arrogance of his brutally realistic comment. ‘That’s totally stupid. You can’t just walk in here and say you want to marry me, simply to get your hands on the Manor House. Anyway, what the Major is suggesting isn’t fair. You are his son, you are entitled to the estate. You shouldn’t be forced to marry me to get it.’

‘Not much is fair in this world, Josie, as I think you’re beginning to find out,’ he offered dryly, before adding, ‘But there’s no force involved on my part. I want to marry you. You’re a very lovely girl, and I can think of a hundred more selfish reasons for wanting you as my wife.’

She closed her eyes for a second, his words forcibly reminding her of the hopelessness of her own situation. When she opened them he was watching her, the expression in his dark eyes, so oddly flecked with gold, seeming sincere, and yet there was something more she could not name in their mysterious depths. She was tempted to agree to marry him. It would solve all her problems. But the memory of the one night she’d spent with Charles rose up in her mind, and she did not fancy repeating the experience. She couldn’t...

‘So what is it to be, Josie? You help me and I swear I will take great care of you.’

‘I couldn’t. I hardly know you. I—well...’ She slid to a halt, unable to find the words. He said he thought she was lovely and he had other reasons for wanting to marry her. Did he expect her to go to bed with him ? She didn’t know and she wasn’t about to ask. As far as she was concerned it wasn’t an option. But as if he could read her mind Conan went on.

‘If it’s sharing a bed with me that’s bothering you, forget it. Not that I wouldn’t mind if you did.’ He gave her a very masculine grin. ‘But I promise I wouldn’t dream of making you do anything you didn’t want to. You have my word on it.’

Josie wasn’t sure she believed him. It struck her quite forcibly that Conan wasn’t the sort of man to be celibate for very long. In her friend Zoe’s parlance the man was hot and even Josie, who was off sex for life, could sense the virile sexuality of the man. So it followed he must have a girlfriend somewhere. No sooner had the thought entered her head than she was voicing it.

‘But surely a man of your age must have a woman in his life, someone who might object to you up and marrying an almost total stranger?’ Josie was young but she wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the way Conan looked at her, and she doubted very much he went through life like a monk.

‘No, there is no one of any importance, but if you’re asking for my sexual history I’ve had two what you might call long-term relationships, neither of which included sharing my home with the lady in question.’ His dark eyes fixed on her flushed face. ‘You, on the other hand, will share my home when we marry, and you can count on my fidelity as much as I can count on yours. Satisfied?’

‘As long as it is only your home and not your bed,’ she said bluntly, not entirely sure she liked his answer.

‘Good. I knew you would see sense. Now, if you have no further questions I will get everything arranged.’

‘Wait a minute. I never said I would marry you.’ She eased a little further back along the sofa, putting more space between them. ‘I need time to think.’

He noted her furtive shuffle with the sardonic arch of one black brow. ‘Take as long as you like.’ And, glancing at the fine gold watch on his wrist he added, ‘As long as it’s no more than sixty seconds.’

Arrogant devil, she thought, but she also thought of her father, and the worry she was causing him, and her unborn child. How easy it would be to pass all her troubles on to someone else’s shoulders, and Conan’s were broad enough, she thought, glancing at his physique—so strong, so protective. But...and it was a big but...she didn’t love Conan, . and he didn’t love her. But then she had thought she’d loved Charles, and look where that had got her. In this mess. She wasn’t a coward, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. She had looked after her ageing father for the past few years as well as holding down a job.

The trouble, Josie realised, was that it was a catch-22 situation. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. If she refused to marry Conan and her child was a boy, the estate would come to her, and she would look like the worst kind of gold-digger. If she did marry Conan just for the sake of the baby, was that any better?

She wanted the very best for her child, and if that meant living with Conan for a year or so, would that be so bad? She thought of her father earlier, blaming himself for her predicament, feeling guilty because he was convinced he had neglected her in some way and betrayed his late wife’s trust. It would put her father’s mind at ease if she married Conan, she knew. The Major and Conan would be satisfied, and realistically her one brush with sex had put her off for life. She could not see herself falling in love and marrying in the normal course of events, not any more...

‘If, if I agreed...’ His dark eyes flared triumphantly, and one of his large hands caught her left hand in his. Josie shivered. ‘I said if,’ she reiterated. ‘I need to know a lot more about the nuts and bolts of the arrangement. For example, I have a job.’

Conan squeezed her hand. ‘Josie, I know you’re a legal secretary at Brownlow’s law firm in Cheltenham, and I would never deprive you of a career. You are simply creating difficulties where none exist Ours will be a straightforward marriage of convenience.’

‘A marriage of convenience,’ Josie murmured. She liked the sound of that. ‘A straightforward business arrangement, you mean?’ she asked glancing up at him.

‘Of course,’ he confirmed lightly, his dark eyes holding hers.

‘In that case, yes, all right.’ She could live with that for the benefit of her child.

‘Good. I’m glad we are agreed. Now, for the sake of the Major and your own father, it would obviously be better if you came and lived in my house in London until after the birth of your child.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Josie pulled her hand from his. ‘Move? I thought the whole idea was you wanted the Manor and you just agreed I could keep my job?’

Conan sat back on the sofa. ‘I do want the Manor, but have you looked at the place lately? My father has not spent a penny on it in years. It needs a complete overhaul, and until that is done London is the obvious place to be as my work is there. As for your job—what I said was, I would never deprive you of a career. In principle, I believe in a woman working, fulfilling her potential. But you’d have to leave your present job in a few months anyway when your condition becomes obvious, and you don’t need me to tell you what the gossip mill is like around here.’

He was right about the gossip; the locals would be counting the days from the wedding to the birth. Not that Josie cared. But her father would and Conan might. She had rarely heard his name mentioned—he was obviously the expert at avoiding gossip, and she had a vague idea he’d lived abroad for a long time. Suddenly Josie realised she knew very little about him. ‘What do you actually do?’ she blurted.

‘Come now, Josie, surely you know.’ he prompted.

‘No, I don’t,’ she snapped back, aware of the cynicism in his tone.

‘I work in a bank,’ he replied. ‘A merchant bank.’

‘Oh; my father did that until he retired.’ And somehow the thought that Conan and her father shared the same career made Josie feel more kindly disposed towards him.

‘I own the bank.’

Josie’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘What?’ she exclaimed.

‘My grandfather left me some shares which my father could not get his hands on. At twenty-one I inherited a sizable block of shares in a merchant bank. I went to London, worked hard and got the opportunity to buy a controlling interest, and I took it. I expanded the business to the USA with branches in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, which is why for the past few years I’ve lived mostly in America.’

Glancing at him, Josie could easily believe him. He looked dangerous, his hard features curiously remote, but his eyes were watchful and incredibly dark. ‘You must be rich. I never knew,’ she said, astonished by his revelation.

As he caught her stunned expression, Conan’s lips curved in a grim smile. ‘I don’t suppose there was any reason why you should. The Major seems to think working in the city is slightly disreputable,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘But someone in our beleaguered family had to make money.’

Something clicked in Josie’s mind. That fateful night of the party. Charles had gone quiet when Conan had mentioned the end-of-quarter accounts. Surely he did not keep Charles and his father supplied with money? ‘You helped support Charles—?’ She was cut off before she could finish the question.

‘For heaven’s sake, Josie, can we get down to basics?’ Conan interrupted harshly, and, jumping to his feet, he prowled around the small room before returning to stand in front of her.

His hard, chiselled features were still, almost brooding. His dark eyes locked with hers, and his expression was impossible to read. ‘How many people have you told about your engagement to Charles?’

‘No one,’ she answered, too surprised by his outburst and change of subject to prevaricate.

A dark brow climbed quizzically. ‘No one, not even you colleagues at work, your friends?’

‘No.’ Josie felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and tried to justify her reticence. ‘You were there that night you heard Charles tell your father; it was to be unofficial until...’ She swallowed remembering what had happened to Charles and what day it was. ‘Well, until he was supposed to return—today.’ She lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze.

‘You do surprise me! A woman who can keep a secret about her personal life. I thought you would have bragged to all and sundry you had caught the county’s most eligible bachelor.’

‘Sorry to disappoint you but I didn’t.’ Not for a million pounds was she going to admit it was because she had intended calling the whole thing off. Even discovering she was pregnant had not persuaded her to marry Charles.

‘So only your father, the Major and I know about your engagement to Charles. You’re absolutely sure?’ he demanded.

‘Yes,’ she repeated, glancing briefly back up at him and wondering why it was so important.

‘Great.’ A triumphant gleam shone in his golden eyes. ‘And it’s a safe bet Charles never mentioned it to anyone so that makes everything much easier.’ He slid one hand into his pocket.

Why was he so certain Charles had kept it a secret? Josie wondered, but she was distracted as her eyes involuntarily followed his hand and she gulped as the fabric of his jeans pulled taut across his thigh outlining exactly how masculine he was. Appalled at the direction her thoughts had taken, she scrambled to her feet, and stepped past him, her face burning. Then, turning and tilting her head to look up at him, she managed to ask, ‘Why easier?’

He withdrew a small box from his pocket. ‘Simple, Josie.’ Opening the box, he caught her hand and slipped an exquisite diamond and sapphire ring in an antique setting on the third finger of her left hand.

Josie looked at the ring, and up at Conan, and back at the ring. He had certainly come prepared, she thought, angry at his arrogant assumption that she would accept his proposal. ‘But...’

‘No buts, Josie. It’s perfect. You and I are engaged. If anyone asks, we met in August at the church fair. You took yesterday afternoon off to have lunch with me, and we got engaged. Then imagine our horror when we returned to the Manor to hear that Charles had died. It’s perfect. We will attend the funeral on Tuesday as a couple, and we have a perfect excuse for a small, quiet wedding—we are in mourning for Charles.’

She had thought he was ruthless but, listening to Conan, she realised he was diabolically devious. It all fitted, and yet she wanted to dent his superior male attitude. ‘What about the clinic I visited?’

‘So what? How long were you there—an hour, two? And did you tell the doctor the name of the father? Somehow I think not.’

He was right again. She had deliberately travelled to Oxford, where no one knew her, and had spent most of the afternoon sitting in a coffee bar deciding what to do.

‘No, I didn’t,’ Josie admitted, and closed her eyes, overcome by sadness for poor Charles. When she opened them again, Conan was slowly assessing every one of her features, from her flushed face to her small hand that wore his ring. He gently caught her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed her fingertips.

‘Don’t worry, Josie; you won’t regret marrying me, and it’s the best for everyone. Believe me.’

Josie snatched her hand back; the touch of his lips on her skin disturbed her, more than she wanted to admit. ‘Oh, I do... You have everything worked out beautifully,’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘And hey! We can always get divorced once...’ She stopped; she could hardly say when the Major died or when Conan had Beeches Manor—it sounded too callous, even if it was true.

Conan slanted her a sardonic glance. ‘You’re quite right. But let’s get married first, hmm?’

‘Yes.’ For the sake of her unborn child, and her father’s peace of mind, she would do anything. Marrying Conan could not be that bad, she told herself. He said he spent a lot of time in America so she might hardly ever see him.

‘Good. I am glad we understand each other. I have to leave now but I’ll be back to take you to dinner on Monday night. As I said, the funeral is on Tuesday and we’ll go together.’

She never got a chance to answer as her father walked into the room. He looked at Josie, then at Conan.

‘When is the funeral? Have you got it all organised?’

‘Yes, Mr Jamieson—on Tuesday at two. But I need to speak to you on another matter.’ And, suddenly snaking an arm around Josie’s waist, he hauled her into his side. Josie tensed and tried to ease away from his iron grip, but his fingers dug sharply into her side, as a warning.

‘Your daughter has kindly agreed to be my wife, and I want your blessing,’ Conan said smoothly, bending his dark head towards Josie and brushing his lips along her brow, before clasping her hand and lifting it to show her father the ring on her finger.

‘Is this true, Josephine? You are engaged to Conan?’ Her father turned puzzled eyes on her flushed face. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

Conan’s fingers dug deeper in her flesh. ‘Yes—yes, Daddy,’ she said, forcing a smile to her lips.

‘I love your daughter, Mr Jamieson, and I want to take care of her.’ Conan’s dark eyes lingered lovingly on her small face. ‘And she has made me the happiest man in the world today.’

Josie stared in dumb amazement at Conan. Talk about over the top! Her father would never believe that. She glanced at her father, and she was stunned to realise he half did...

‘Do you really think you will be happy, married to Conan?’ he queried, his pale eyes, hazed with concern, clinging to hers. ‘You don’t have to rush into marriage, you know.’

‘But I want to, Daddy’ she said firmly, and, making herself look up into Conan’s dark face, she added, ‘I have no doubt at all; I adore Conan.’

‘Well, if you’re sure Josephine,’ he said, his glance lingering on her. ‘And you do look better—you have some colour back in your face.’

The colour was the result of anger at being pressed from leg to shoulder against the hard heat of Conan’s body. But the relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from disillusioning him. ‘I’m sure, Daddy,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘In that case, Conan, of course you have my blessing. It was good of you to ask me.’

Josie looked at her father’s smiling face and was amazed at his blindness. Conan had not asked, he had told him. Surely he’d heard the sarcasm in Conan’s tone? But apparently not.

‘I am so happy for you both,’ her father continued. ‘The death of Charles is a tragedy, but there is no point in adding tragedy upon tragedy. Josephine is a very lucky girl.’

Lucky was not how she would have put it, Josie thought as she pulled her hand free of Conan’s and he finally let her move from his side, only to find herself enfolded in her father’s arms as he hugged her tightly.

‘It’s a miracle, Josephine. I told you everything would be fine.’ Her father patted her on the head, walked over to his armchair and sat down. ‘Have you seen my paper?’ he asked.

Josie hated being patted on the head. It only accentuated her tiny stature in her mind, and added to the simmering resentment she felt against the two men in the room. She marched to the occasional table where the daily paper lay and picked it up. She was tempted to hit her dad over the head with it. Much as she loved her father, he was the world’s worst chauvinist; her opinions didn’t matter at all in comparison to Conan’s. She flashed an exasperated glance at her father’s down-bent head, then, turning, caught the gleam of wicked humour in Conan’s eyes.

‘Let me show you out,’ she snapped. She had a nasty suspicion Conan might turn out to be even more of a chauvinist than her father. Walking out into the hall, she opened the front door and stood back, expecting Conan to leave.

‘On my way over here this morning I was convinced I would have to bully you into listening to me,’ he confided as he stopped in the doorway, his large body almost filling the space. ‘I’m intrigued to discover you do possess some common sense after all, and I am delighted you have agreed to be my wife.’

‘After all...’ The nerve of the man! He had obviously thought she was an impulsive fool from the minute he’d met her. Well, she would prove him wrong, and be the perfect social wife, while giving her baby the very best start in life. ‘Yes, well, it is just business,’ Josie said firmly.

‘Of course, but take good care of the ring; it was my grandmother’s.’ His dark eyes slid down the length of her body with a possessive gleam in their golden depths, making Josie shudder inside, and for a second she questioned if his intentions really were platonic. His long, tanned fingers closed around her wrist, and she thought he was going to check the ring, but he surprised her completely by folding her hands behind her back, and easing her into close contact with his long body.

‘What...?’ she tried to pull her hands free.

‘Don’t look so frightened, Josie.’ Conan let go of her wrists. ‘I’m simply going to seal our deal with a kiss.’ Lowering his head, he closed his mouth gently over hers. His hands curved over her shoulders, and then swept lightly over her breasts and around her waist, holding her firm.

To Josie’s shame she felt her traitorous body responding. How could she? she thought wildly, and, turning her head away from his searching lips, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed as hard as she could.

‘Business, remember, a marriage of convenience, you said!’ Her eyes were shooting sparks, but, when they clashed with his, to her fury he was grinning.

‘true, but we must present the right image of a loving couple—at least until the child is born. The odd kiss will be unavoidable, and it seems to me you need the practice.’ he chuckled. ‘See you Monday,’ and he left, spinning on his heel.

Stunned, Josie simply stared at his retreating back as he walked down the short path to the road. It was only when he turned to give her a jaunty wave that she realised what she was doing, and slammed the front door. She had a horrible feeling she might have just made the biggest mistake of her life...