Читать книгу The Millionaire's Chosen Bride - Susanne James, Susanne James - Страница 6

CHAPTER ONE

‘LADIES and gentlemen—bidding will commence at half past ten exactly. That’s in fifteen minutes from now.’ The auctioneer’s strong, commanding voice cut through the murmuring in the small sitting room and people began to take what seats were available, automatically consulting their own watches and glancing around at the competition.

Melody found a place towards the back, aware that her heart was pounding as she fingered the numbered card in her hand nervously. It stated the number thirty in large black figures and, looking down at it, she still couldn’t really believe that she was here, doing this. To call it one of life’s amazing coincidences seemed too trite a description. But she was here, she was not dreaming, and she was about to take part in the bidding for the rather quaint but very lovely Gatehouse Cottage. And it had certainly not been part of her present holiday plans.

Casting a surreptitious glance around her, she saw that the other interested parties were presumably the kind of eclectic bunch you’d see anywhere, she thought. Ordinary enough people, but today with a single purpose. To buy this property.

Presently there was a hush as the auctioneer took his place at the table, and straight away the atmosphere became charged with expectancy.

‘We’ll start the bidding at the guide price,’ the man said, looking at everyone over his spectacles, ‘and I’m going up in tens. Who’ll start the bidding for me, please?’

There was an immediate response as someone raised a card, and Melody’s breath was almost taken away at the speed with which everything proceeded. Well over the asking price was reached almost at once, before bidding began to slow as bidders shook their heads. Soon it was left to only four hopeful buyers to provide the entertainment. It got slower still as people dropped out one by one, and Melody’s mouth was as dry as dust as she continued to raise her card.

Now that she’d started, she just could not stop. For once she was putting her business acumen and expertise into something for her—and the experience was a heady one!

Soon there were only two bidders remaining—herself, and a man with a deliciously deep voice at the back of the room, who was just out of her sight. She would actually have had to swivel in her seat to see who was keeping pace with her, so she continued to stare straight ahead.

Swallowing hard, Melody determined to keep on, up to the limit she’d set herself—but equally determined seemed her opponent! But suddenly she was the last bidder, and the all-important gavel was struck sharply once, twice…three times. Gatehouse Cottage was hers!

Melody got up from her place and went towards the desk, where the auctioneer beamed at her. ‘Congratulations,’ he said kindly.

‘Thank you,’ she said lightly, by this time feeling in an almost dream-like state. She could barely catch her breath. What had she just done, for heaven’s sake?

There was paperwork and official business to see to, and the vital signature to append, but finally Melody left the building and went out into the strong summer sunlight, feeling as important as a middle-eastern tycoon! But she was still shaking inside… She was not usually of an impetuous nature—snap decisions weren’t her style—yet she had just entered into an agreement that would now make her the owner of two properties—her apartment in London as well as this idyllic cottage in one of the most beautiful rural spots in England.

Presently, going down the path to reach her car, she almost bumped into someone standing there. A man was leaning nonchalantly against the gatepost, and Melody immediately looked up to apologise—almost swallowing her tongue as she met the searching gaze of the most blue-black eyes she’d ever seen! For a second neither of them spoke, but she was the first to find her voice.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she murmured, rather formally, stepping out of his way—but he didn’t attempt to move, just stood looking down at her, a faint smile on his lips.

‘There’snothingto apologise for,’ he said casually, ina darkly rich voice that had the effect of making Melody’s spine tingle unexpectedly. ‘Except, perhaps,’ he added, ‘for pipping me at the post just now.’ He paused. ‘Congratulations, by the way,’ he drawled.

So! This was the other determined bidder who’d helped to force the price of the cottage ever higher! He was tall—very tall—and dressed in dark trousers and a shirt which was open at the neck to reveal a tantalising glimpse of black curling hair. Melody looked away quickly.

‘Oh—well…’ she said, shrugging slightly. ‘There must always be winners and losers, mustn’t there? But I do hope I haven’t ruined your long-term plans too much…’

He raised one dark eyebrow, still staring at her. ‘I’ll live to fight another day,’ he said. He paused. ‘But I think the least you can do is to let me buy you some lunch.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost midday, and I know a really great pub. I’m hungry after all that tension.’

Melody couldn’t help feeling surprised at his suggestion. This man was obviously a fast worker who didn’t believe in hanging around—the sort of opportunist that made her feel slightly wary. Then she bit her lip. She’d been too excited—or too nervous—to eat any breakfast at her hotel that morning, and now that she’d secured the deal her appetite was coming back to life!

‘All right,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Why not? ‘I’m Mel, by the way.’

‘And I’m Adam.’ He extended a tanned hand in formal greeting, and grinned in a warm, all-embracing way that had the effect of breaking down any remaining reserve Melody might have felt at accepting an invitation from a complete stranger.

Their cars were parked a little way away along the deserted road. Everyone else had obviously departed. Melody wasn’t surprised to see that his was a low-slung, exotic red Porsche. Her own compact Mercedes seemed rather staid by comparison.

‘We might as well go in mine,’ Adam said briefly, as he flicked the automatic key to unlock his door. ‘I can drop you back later.’

‘Oh, no, thanks,’ Melody said at once. ‘I’ll follow you to wherever you’re taking me. I’ll probably want to go on somewhere afterwards, anyway.’

She’d been taught from a very young age not to take anyone at face value, and knew better than to put herself in any kind of vulnerable position. Yet this smooth, suave, unknown male—obviously used to trading on his undoubted good-looks—had coolly invited her out to lunch and she’d agreed straight away! This was not like her, she thought, as she got into her car. But today was a pretty exceptional one, she excused herself. In fact, now that she really thought about it, she knew it was a fantastic day! A day to remember, to savour! Enjoy the moment, she told herself. Reality would become apparent all too soon.

Starting the engine and slipping her car into gear, she followed the Porsche along the blissfully uncluttered roads at a much more respectable pace than she’d imagined they might. He’d seemed the type who’d take pleasure in roaring away in front of her and expect her to keep up with his dizzying assault on the numerous twists and bends they encountered. His whole persona came across as confident, self-assured—a natural leader, accustomed to success and its trappings, Melody thought, and he’d had no problem in getting her to join him for lunch today! But following him on an enjoyable run on this perfect July day had the effect of sending her spirits soaring. If only her mother, Frances, was here now, to share this special morning with her, she thought, her eyes clouding briefly.

In about fifteen minutes they arrived at an insignificant-looking wayside pub, and pulled up simultaneously in the car park at the front. Adam immediately came over and opened her door for her to get out, and Melody was conscious—not for the first time—of how he looked at her, how he was obviously scrutinising her appearance. She hoped he approved of her white designer trousers and navy and white striped shirt—an outfit she felt was simple but elegantly casual. Her long fair hair she’d tied up in a heavy knot on the top of her head—the style she always used in business. And, after all, today had been business—though not the sort that she was usually engaged in. Drawing her hair back formally had the effect of complementing the perfect bone structure of her heart-shaped face, her thoughtful grey-green eyes and full-lipped mouth.

Without making any comment, Adam handed her out of the car, and together they walked along the gravelled path to the entrance of the pub. The place was obviously popular, because already it was comfortably full of people. He ushered Melody to a vacant corner table by the window, and looked down at her as she took her seat.

‘What are you drinking, Mel?’ he asked.

‘Just a sparkling water, please,’ she said, and he raised his eyebrows slightly.

‘No champagne…to celebrate your success today?’

She smiled up at him. ‘I’ll keep that for some other time,’ she said.

She watched him as he went over to stand amongst the jostling crowd at the bar, easily the most noticeable person there. He was taller than anyone else, for a start, she thought, his lithe, athletic body obviously demonstrating a robust and healthy physique. Heavens above, she thought to herself crossly. The day had been enough of an explosive affair as it was…surely she wasn’t being blown away by someone she’d probably never see again? Was she that fickle, that pathetic, after losing Crispin not all that long ago? Blame it on today, she excused herself. Today had a definitely weird feel about it!

Presently he came back with their drinks—her water, and a pint of lager for himself—and put a lunch menu in front of her.

‘I can recommend the crab cakes,’ he said, glancing down at his own copy. ‘With the coast so near, the fish is fresh here daily. Or,’ he added, looking across at her briefly, ‘the barbecued sea bass is also very good.’

By this time Melody’s mouth was watering, and she was prompt with her selection. ‘I love fish cakes,’ she said, ‘and I don’t often have the chance to eat fresh crab. So crab cakes, please, with a green salad.’

‘You’re obviously a woman of quick decisions,’ he said. ‘When I bring people here it usually takes them longer to choose what they want than it does to eat the stuff.’

He got up and went across to order at the bar, glancing back at her as she stared out of the window. This was an unusual woman, he thought. Apart from being very, very, beautiful, she was overtly well dressed, sophisticated, and clearly with a very firm head on her shoulders. The sort of female who knew exactly what she wanted in life and was determined to get it. He’d known many women in his thirty-eight years, but he had the distinct feeling that no one would ever get the better of this one in an argument! She was the kind of woman you wouldn’t want to cross, but something about her—especially when he’d observed her at the auction—had excited his curiosity and made him want to find out about her. Who she was…and more importantly why she was taking possession of Gatehouse Cottage.

He returned to sit opposite her. ‘So,’ he said without preamble, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ Well, of course she wasn’t…he’d have noticed!

Melody sipped at her water. ‘No. I live and work in London,’ she said briefly. ‘I’m here on holiday for a few weeks.’

Adam frowned. ‘But…the auction,’ he said slowly. ‘How did you know about the cottage being for sale?’

‘I was in the village looking around a few days ago and saw the sign. I went into the agent’s office and made some enquiries. And…decided to go for it.’ She looked up at him calmly, and he stared back at her for a second.

‘Do you do that sort of thing often?’ he asked. ‘I mean, people usually like to buy little mementoes to bring back from a holiday, but a cottage seems rather excessive!’

Melody smiled. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘And I’ve never done such a thing in my life before… But…I was attracted to the place… It felt special as soon as I stepped inside. It felt…right, somehow,’ she added guardedly.

Adam seemed lost for words suddenly, but her answer only confirmed his opinion of the woman. She knew what she wanted and was going to get it. Whatever the cost. And, talking of cost, she must have the wherewithal to do it, he thought. Not many people had that amount of money instantly at their fingertips!

‘Do you live locally?’ Melody asked, deciding that it was his turn to answer some questions.

‘No. I work in Malaysia, where I obviously have to live for most of the time,’ Adam said. ‘But I always take a long break here, with friends, at about this time every year. Abroad is fine, but rural England is where I feel normal.’

Melody looked away for a second.

‘I’m really sorry…to have beaten you at the auction this morning,’ she said simply. ‘I hope you’ll be able to find somewhere else before too long. Not that there seemed much else on offer here… I suppose people just never want to leave the place.’

‘You’re not sorry at all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Besides, someone has to win a battle—as you pointed out—and this time it was you. Maybe there’ll be another occasion when I’ll have the advantage.’

‘Oh, I can’t see that happening,’ Melody said at once. ‘I will not be purchasing another property for a very long time—if ever. A flat in London and a cottage in the country are quite enough for one person to worry about!’

Their meals arrived, and Melody couldn’t wait to try the crisp, piping hot crab cakes nestling amongst just the right amount of delicious-looking dressed salad. She picked up her knife and fork and looked across at Adam.

‘This all looks yummy!’ she exclaimed.

He watched her for a few seconds without starting his own meal. Then, ‘What do you intend doing about your living arrangements?’ he asked bluntly.

‘D’you mean when will I be moving in to the cottage?’ Melody asked innocently, between mouthfuls. ‘Oh, that’s anyone’s guess. The previous elderly owner had been there for some years and hadn’t done much to the place—so there’s obviously some work to do. Everything’s still sound enough, but it’ll need decorating throughout, and I shall have great fun choosing the right sort of furniture. It’s going to be so wonderful to relax here whenever I can get away.’ She looked across at him, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, her eyes shining at the prospect.

‘So,’ Adam said slowly, ‘you’ve bought the cottage purely as a holiday home? You never intended it to be a permanent dwelling…or maybe a home for your family to share?’

‘I don’t have any family,’ Melody said, rather curtly. ‘This is going to be just for me.’

‘How often are you likely to be able to get here?’ he persisted.

Melody looked away quickly. What right did this man have to interrogate her? she thought. It was none of his business.

‘As often as I can,’ she said firmly. ‘A lot will depend on how things are at work.’ She paused, before adding, ‘I’m fund manager for one of the big banks,’ thinking that she might as well tell him what she did, how she earned her living, before he asked.

He picked up his fork then, and began to eat slowly. Well, what else had he thought? he asked himself. This was clearly a dynamic businesswoman whose daily bread was not likely to be earned in this or any other backwater. ‘You won’t exactly be number one in the popularity stakes,’ he said casually. ‘The locals don’t take too kindly to absentee property owners… people responsible for killing off villages like these. They want folk to live here and be part of the genuine life of the place—help to keep the school and the post office and the pubs going.’

Melody kept her eyes on her plate, trying not to seethe at the clearly admonishing tone in his remark. Of course she knew exactly what he was talking about. The press regularly ran features about the problem. And she reluctantly had to admit that she hadn’t given herself time to really think this through—hadn’t got to the point of wondering how often she’d be driving from town, or how long her visits might last. But that didn’t stop her thoroughly resenting this stranger giving her a lecture!

‘C’est la vie,’ she said coolly.

In those few seconds the cordiality of the occasion seemed to have vanished, and neither spoke for a while as they ate. Then she looked up. ‘Let’s talk about you and your plans,’ she said, in a way she recognised as her formal business voice. ‘If you had succeeded this morning you would obviously have had every intention of living at the cottage permanently, then? Which would have meant abandoning your job in the Far East?’

He returned her gaze, and the eyes which earlier had appeared a friendly blue-black colour now seemed to have acquired a hardened edge. ‘Good heavens, no,’ he replied casually. ‘I can hardly abandon my job—seeing that I’m a partner in the family firm over there.’ He finished his meal and put down his knife and fork. ‘My father and I transferred the business from England some years ago.’

Well, well, Melody thought cynically. This man, who’d just told her off for helping to ‘kill off’ the village, thought nothing of taking his family firm out of the country, obviously throwing employees out of work! Talk about double standards! She couldn’t let that pass!

‘So you were obviously not “number one in the popularity stakes”?’ she said, echoing his own words to her. ‘With your ex-staff, I mean. What a miserable bombshell that must have been for them.’

Adam frowned. ‘Wedidn’t take the decision lightly,’ he said slowly, throwing her a glance which held a hint of disdain at her comments. ‘We were able to give them all handsome redundancy payments, and my father—who is very well known in the industry—used his influence to find places for many of the men with our competitors.’ He paused. ‘He is a very thoughtful man…it caused him a great deal of worry at the time.’

‘Mmm,’ Melody murmured enigmatically, not wanting to let him off the hook too lightly, yet knowing full well the difficult position companies like his often found themselves in. Her doctorate in Business Studies and Law, together with her masterly understanding of today’s commercial world, made it difficult for her not to sympathise.

‘So,’ she said, as she finished her glass of water, ‘if you had managed to secure Gatehouse Cottage this morning, what would your plans have been for taking possession?’

‘Oh, I didn’t have any,’ he replied. ‘I wasn’t bidding for myself. I was there on behalf of friends of mine who have a very special reason for wanting to own it. Friends who’ve lived in the village all their lives and who have no intention of ever moving away,’ he added significantly.

Why was she being made to feel so guilty? Melody asked herself. This morning’s business transaction was legal and above board, with the best man winning! It was her good luck—and her considerable financial resources—that had made her the one to buy the cottage, yet the impression she was getting was that she had no right to own the place, and that everyone would hate her for it! This was not the way it was meant to turn out, and being with Adam Whoever-He-Was was making her feel uneasy.

She made a move to go, picking up her bag from the side of the chair.

‘Thank you very much for my lunch,’ she said, glancing across at him. ‘I enjoyed the crab cakes enormously, and I shall come back for some more before I go home.’

He stood up then, tilting his chiselled lips in a half-smile. ‘Glad you liked them,’ he said. ‘Um…wouldn’t you like coffee before you go?’

‘No, thanks. Not for me,’ Melody said. ‘I must get back to my hotel—I’m moving out from the Red House today—do you know it? It’s very comfortable.’

‘Of course I know the Red House. Everyone knows the Red House,’ he said off-handedly. ‘It’s got a formidable reputation in the area. So why are you moving out?’

‘I thought I’d come closer to the village. To my new property,’ Melody said neatly, throwing him a glance. ‘I rang a B&B that I’d noticed—there are quite a few of them to choose from! Luckily they had a vacancy, so I’ll be staying there for a week or two.’

Adam settled the bill at the bar, and they went out into the warm afternoon sunshine. He stood by the side of her car as she opened the door to get in.

‘Can you find your way back to the Red House from here?’ he asked. ‘Or would you like me to lead the way?’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that—thanks anyway,’ Melody said quickly. ‘I don’t have any problems with route-finding, and I was making mental notes of the direction we were going in as we drove here.’ She smiled up at him through the open window. ‘And I’m used to reading road signs.’

He shrugged briefly—as if to say, Well, I was only offering—then watched her reverse expertly in the confined space of the car park and drive away with a brief wave of her hand as she went.

Adam got into his own car and waited for a moment before switching on the engine. He felt instinctively that this was a rather unusual woman who didn’t fit in to his personal categories for the female race. He was certainly attracted to her and, although her petite stature gave her an air of vulnerability, she gave every impression of being someone who was well able to look after herself. Not to mention the fact that she was clearly a very experienced driver who had no difficulty in finding her way around! Now, why should that disturb him in a woman? he asked himself. Most females were rubbish at map-reading, or at even knowing their norths from their souths! But not, apparently, this one!

He stared pensively out of the window for a second. Whether she was brilliant behind the wheel or not wasn’t particularly relevant anyway…all he knew was that she was certainly a very intriguing woman—at any rate, she’d intrigued him more than anyone had done for a very long time!

He swept out of the car park, smiling briefly to himself, painfully aware that his present, overpowering sensation was one of wanting to cover those dainty, seductive lips with his own! He snorted derisively. Fat chance of that ever happening! he thought.

As she made her way back to her hotel, Melody felt such a strange mix of emotions she could have screamed. She should have been thrilled and excited at her purchase that morning, and of course she was, yet she realised Adam did have a point about the time she’d be spending at the cottage—actually living there, and buying her bread from the little bakery, fetching her newspaper from the shop. She knew only too well that people like her were a serious irritation who did little to help the local economy.

After she’d driven for a mile or two she pulled in to the side of the road and took the local map which the hotel had given her from her handbag. Although she’d told Adam that she’d have no difficulty finding her way back to the Red House, the fact was she didn’t have a clue where she was. But she hadn’t wanted to extend her association with the man by accepting his offer that he should shepherd her back. Although he was, without doubt, the dishiest male she’d met in her whole life, she felt that this was not the time to prolong an unlooked-for acquaintance. At this staggeringly unexpected point in her life it would be better to be alone, to think clearly for herself.

The route they’d taken from the village to the pub was unknown to her. All these country roads looked exactly the same as one another, and her hotel was an isolated building that didn’t seem to belong anywhere special. Melody sighed as she traced the minute, incomprehensible wiggles on the map with her finger. If the worst came to the worst she could always go right back to the village and set off again from there, she thought. But surely there must be a more direct route from where she now was to the Red House?

Feeling that she’d better go back to the pub, she turned the car around and began to drive cautiously along the empty road. Suddenly, rounding a corner, she spotted a woman cyclist ahead of her. Good, she thought. A local who would obviously know where the hotel was.

Pulling up slowly alongside, she opened the passenger window and called out.

‘Hello—sorry to bother you, but I’m trying to find my way back to the Red House Hotel. Can you direct me? I’m hopelessly lost!’

The woman—dark-haired and attractive, probably in her mid-thirties, Melody assessed—had an open, friendly expression, and immediately got off her bike—an ancient vehicle with a basket on the front in which were several boxes of eggs. She looked in at Melody.

‘I’m afraid you’re a bit off-course,’ she said, frowning slightly and shielding her eyes from the sun for a second. ‘Look, your best bet is to go to the crossroads a mile up the road in front of us, take the left turn, then go on until you come to the smallholding on the right. You can’t miss it. There are always two white horses in the field in front. Turn down that road, go on for another mile or so, then the road sort of doubles back on itself before you must take the next right turn. The Red House is there, more or less in front of you. Or should be if I’ve got it right!’ the woman said, laughing.

Melody repeated the instructions slowly, hoping she’d find the place before nightfall. The woman’s last remark didn’t sound particularly convincing! Especially with the added, ‘Good Luck!’ that she heard as she drove away.

Anyway, she thought, her present confusion would do nothing to spoil the excitement of the day. Soon, soon—when the necessary formalities had been completed—she would be given the keys to her cottage and would be able to revel in really looking around. She would go upstairs and open the door to the little bedroom at the back. The room in which she’d been born.