by Penny Jordan
‘I meant better from you, not better for you,’ his mother responded immediately, causing Julia to go into semi-shock. ‘And you know that. When you informed me on Julia’s eighteenth birthday that you planned to marry her not because you loved her but because from a practical point of view she was the perfect wife for you, I told you what I thought.’
‘You said that you didn’t believe Julia would accept me,’ Silas agreed.
His mother’s visit had come as a total surprise, adding more complications to what was already a very delicately balanced situation. He and Julia were married, but as yet no one knew. Julia naturally wanted to tell her mother and grandfather before they went public, and equally naturally she wanted to do it in person. Silas had given consideration to flying back to England before they went to Dubai, but at the moment he was reluctant to share Julia with anyone else at all. Plus, he had wanted to see her restored to her pre-Blayne sunny happiness before plunging them both into the emotional storm the news that they had married in secret was bound to cause—especially with Julia’s mother.
And then there had been that final consideration to make him hold back—that sharp, thorny, and very steep belief journey he had had to make from his denial that love was a concept even worth including in his calculations to admitting that it was a force that had rewritten his emotional and mental rule book.
Admitting to himself that he loved Julia had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do, and doing so had left him feeling acutely exposed and vulnerable. He needed more time to get accustomed to this new aspect to his personality, to feel comfortable with it and himself before he could go public and start telling the world that he was passionately in love with his wife. And he was damn certain that the first person he was going to tell was not going to be his mother. Especially not when those three small words he had been mentally sweating over for the last four weeks, whilst he imagined himself whispering them to Julia, had not actually been said yet.
Nope; so far as his mother was going to know, the status quo was exactly as he had told her it was going to be all those years ago.
But there was one thing he could safely say.
‘Julia is the perfect wife for me.’ Perfect in every way, but most of all in the joy she had brought into his life and the love he had for her.
Outside in the hallway, hidden from their view, Julia battled fiercely with her own feelings. Silas’s mother’s revelations had shocked and hurt her. But perhaps there was more of Silas’s practicality in her than either of them had realised. Either that or his attitude had begun to change the way she thought herself, she decided bleakly. Because honesty compelled her to admit that Silas had never said that he loved her. She had simply assumed that he must because of her own feelings for him—and because it had never occurred to her that he would marry her for any other reason.
Now she could see that she had been hopelessly nïve. So what was she going to do now? Throw an emotional tantrum and blurt out that she loved him? Demand a divorce because he didn’t love her?
But what was love? Did it always and only have to be the hearts and flowers outward trappings of romance familiar to everyone? Couldn’t it sometimes be something else? Perhaps…something like a practical man protecting the woman who was his wife. Like that same man scrupulously ensuring that he secured her future and that of their children. Like that same man giving a high priority to their shared sexual pleasure. Were these things not in their own way a form of love? Or was she deluding herself? Trust and honesty were to be the foundations of their marriage, Silas had told her. She had accepted that she could trust him. Could she accept the sharp bite of his honesty as well?
‘Well, right now, Silas, my concern is not how perfect a wife Julia will make you, but how happy a woman you will make her. I intend to wait for her to return, and when she does I intend to make sure that you have not pressured the poor girl in some way into agreeing to marry you…’
Julia took a deep breath, and then, before she could change her mind, she stepped out of the shadows and into the room, saying lightly, ‘I’m afraid I’ve been eavesdropping. I got back a few minutes ago, and didn’t want to break up your mother-and-son chat, but…’ Was her smile everything he wanted it to be? Calm and serene and very much that of a woman who admired the man who wanted to marry her because it was practical to do so?
‘I have to say, mother-in-law-to-be, that everything Silas has said makes perfectly good sense to me. In fact I totally share his feelings. I think we have more than enough in common to make our marriage work very well.’
‘But you are not in love with him?’
‘Being in love is not necessarily a prerequisite for a good marriage,’ Julia answered Silas’s mother firmly.
So far Silas hadn’t said a single word, and when she looked at him she was surprised to see that he was looking back at her almost blankly, as though somehow what she had said was unwelcome to him.
Automatically she moved closer to him and reached for his hand, before saying huskily, ‘Silas, I think we should tell your mother the truth.’
She knew that he loved her?
‘The truth?’
‘Yes,’ Julia agreed, facing her mother-in-law determinedly as she said quietly, ‘We haven’t told anyone else yet, but actually Silas and I are already married.’
Julia watched as Silas’s mother’s gaze dropped suspiciously to her stomach and then lifted to Silas’s face before switching back to her, and her own face grew pink as she read all the unspoken messages those three looks contained.
‘No, he did not have to marry me,’ Julia burst out indignantly, speaking the unspeakable as only she could, Silas decided ruefully.
His mother might have wrongly assumed that they had married in such haste because they had discovered that Julia was pregnant, but he doubted that she was likely to guess the real truth—which was, as Silas himself had only just come to recognise, that he had rushed Julia into marriage because quite simply he loved her and wanted to tie her to him in every single way that he could.
‘You might have backed me up when I told your mother that you didn’t marry me because I was pregnant, instead of laughing,’ Julia complained crossly to Silas as he poured her a cup of tea.
It was just over an hour since they had returned from seeing Silas’s mother off on her homeward flight, and Julia had begun to feel very tired.
‘I was in shock,’ Silas told her dryly.
‘You were in shock?’
‘I hadn’t realised that you had such a practical turn of mind.’
Julia knew immediately what he meant.
‘Well, I could hardly tell your mother that I wanted to marry you because you are quite simply the world’s best shag, could I?’ she asked lightly.
No way was she going to spoil what they had by bursting into tears and begging Silas to say that he loved her.
‘Maybe not in those exact words,’ Silas conceded. ‘Although I dare say she would not have been averse to hearing that you feel passionately about me.’ He knew that he certainly wouldn’t.
‘I do. Like I just said, I feel passionate about you being the most wonderfully orgasmic shag.’
Why did that make him ache inside with pain instead of with delight? Why was he suddenly feeling that sex on its own wasn’t enough, and that he craved a connection with her that went deeper and was more profound?
‘You don’t think she’ll say anything to Ma or Gramps, do you?’
‘About shagging?’
‘No. Silas, you know what I mean. Your mother won’t tell them that we’re married?’
‘No. Although I must admit I don’t really understand why you actually told her.’
‘I thought from the way she was acting that she might actually drag me back to New York with her to save me from you,’ Julia told him lightly.
‘And you didn’t want that?’
No! I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I can’t bear the thought of living any other way, Ju
lia thought. But of course she couldn’t say that to him.
‘Not really. Did you?’
‘What? And miss being woken up every morning by you holding a one-to-one conversation with my penis? What do you think?’
‘I think that the best place to drink a cup of tea is in bed.’ Her world might have come crashing down around her, but, Julia reminded herself sturdily, no one else was going to know that.
‘Mmm, nice thought—but maybe later,’ Silas told her lightly, immediately standing up. ‘I’ve got some e-mails to send…’
‘To Aimee?’ she challenged jealously.
Immediately Silas frowned. ‘Why on earth should I want to e-mail her?’
When Julia made no response, Silas exhaled and told her grittily, ‘I have no desire to either e-mail Aimee DeTroite or to bed her, if that’s what you’re worrying about. I do not want her, I have never wanted her, and I would not want her if she was the last woman left on earth. So far as I am concerned she is a neurotic whose behaviour borders on being dangerously destructive—to herself and to others. Now, if you don’t mind, I need a break from all this emotional self-indulgence.’
Julia put down her cup so that Silas wouldn’t see how much her hands were trembling. He might have denied wanting Aimee, but he had also rejected her hint to him that they have sex as well.
As he walked away from her Silas told himself that, feeling the way he was right now, there was no way it made sense to take Julia to bed. If he did he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from showing her that sex simply wasn’t enough for him any longer. And no way did he want to do that after she had made it plain that it was all she wanted from him.
The irony of what had happened made him smile bitterly. He had been so wrapped up in his own desire to marry Julia for practical reasons that it had never occurred to him to question her motives for marrying him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’VE sorted everything out with the travel agent. Apparently Sheikh Al Faisir is going to provide us with a private villa in the grounds of the Jumeirah Beach Club.’
Silas had been dealing with the arrangements for their trip to Dubai, and Julia nodded wanly as she listened to him, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. She had felt so nauseous this morning when she woke up, and yesterday as well, and now she just felt so incredibly tired.
‘The Sheikh is connected to the ruling family of Dubai, and this post-Ramadan party we are doing for him will be attended by members of that family as well as his corporate guests,’ she explained briefly.
‘It’s going to be a pretty grand affair, then?’
‘Very much so,’ she agreed, abandoning her mental attempts to backtrack over the last few weeks and work out some all-important dates. ‘We suggested to the Sheikh that we keep to a glamorous Arabian Nights-based theme for the décor, with a sophisticated exotic fantasy element. For instance, the party is being held on a private beach with access to some of Dubai’s most exclusive hotels. The guests will be able to sit and eat inside specially designed pavilions. They’ll be covered in richly coloured silks and velvets—the whole effect will be rather theatrically over the top and very lush. Sort of Cecil B DeMille meets Bollywood, only much richer.
There’ll be the usual fireworks, and those things that produce strawberry-flavoured smoke—they’re really big over there. We’ve got a floorshow as well—magicians, sword-swallowers, a snake charmer, all that kind of stuff—and a belly dancer—the real thing. She’s a superstar over there in her own right. They take belly dancing very seriously. It’s a complete art form, of course. And we’ve got live music, and a guest list that includes loads of famous names from the horse racing scene and the pro golf world, plus quite a few Formula One stars. Then there are the celebs who have bought property out there on the Palm Islands. Over a thousand guests have been invited in total. It’s a hugely important contract for us.’
‘And a very profitable one too, I should imagine.’
‘I hope so, for Lucy’s sake. She sort of hinted that it was Marcus who got us the business.’
‘Blayne is not likely to turn up, I hope?’
‘That wasn’t the plan. We only got the contract after we’d drawn up the schedule for the year. Both Lucy and Nick were already involved with other projects, which is why I got it.’
‘So where’s Blayne now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Julia started to frown. ‘It’s rather odd, really, because although I’ve spoken to Lucy pretty regularly she hasn’t mentioned him at all.’
‘According to my source, he isn’t in London—or at least, if he is, he isn’t living at home.’
Julia didn’t want to talk about Nick. She had far more important and personal things on her mind. Was it nearly five weeks since she had last had a period or was it closer to six? And if it was closer to six did that just mean that she was late, or did it mean something else? Her heart bumped against her ribs.
‘Silas, I…There’s something…’ she began huskily, but he was looking at his watch and exclaiming urgently.
‘Hell—is that the time? I’m going to be late teeing off if I don’t leave now.’
And then he was leaning over to give her a brief kiss before heading for the villa door.
Julia sighed ruefully. Was she pregnant? She certainly hoped so. Perhaps she should go into Marbella and buy a home pregnancy testing kit before she started getting too excited and making announcements to Silas. But first she had some work to do.
Silas had been gone just over an hour, when Julia heard someone knocking on the front door of the villa. Thinking it might be their maid, coming to see if they wanted the fridge restocked, she padded barefoot to the door and pulled it open.
An impossibly thin white-blonde young woman, with equally impossibly large unmoving breasts, was standing outside, a heavy fur coat draped over one arm and a tiny snakeskin handbag clutched in the diamond-encrusted fingers of her other hand.
Julia recognised her immediately.
‘Aimee DeTroite.’
‘I have to see Silas,’ she burst out, pushing past Julia and marching into the villa. ‘Where is he?’
‘He—he isn’t here,’ Julia told her. It was the truth, after all.
‘You aren’t that aristocratic distant relative he’s engaged to, are you? No, you can’t be. Silas hates brunettes. He adores elegant blondes. Where is he anyway? I can’t wait to see him and tell him our news.’
Their news—what on earth did she mean? Anxiety was beginning to tighten its grip on Julia’s body.
‘You are related, aren’t you? He can’t possibly marry you. He’s going to have to marry me instead. You see…’ Aimee paused for effect before announcing, ‘I’m having his baby.’
Julia felt as though a trap door had opened under her feet, sending her hurtling downwards into sickening darkness. Don’t you dare faint, she warned herself grimly.
Trust. Trust and truth were the foundations on which their marriage was going to be based—Silas had told her. And she had believed him because she knew that she could. Somehow she was going to find a way to hold on to that belief now.
‘Really?’ she heard herself saying. ‘How very interesting. Are you sure it’s Silas’s?’
The puppy-brown eyes hardened into cold little pebbles.
‘Of course I’m sure. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I love Silas and he loves me, even if he refuses to admit it. He’s all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. We are destined to be together. Our souls have sped together through time and space to bring us here now. My astrologer has done our charts. He says he has never seen a couple so harmoniously linked to one another. I told him that our son will be a Lord…’
‘An earl, actually,’ Julia corrected her flatly.
Could it be true? Could Aimee be having Silas’s child? Her belly was so flat and her body so thin that it didn’t seem possible for her to have so much as a pinhead inside her, never mind a baby, but appearances could be deceptive.
Her own stomach was still concave at the moment.
‘If I were you I’d start packing right now,’ Julia heard Aimee telling her smugly. ‘After all, there’s no point in making things harder for yourself, is there? I mean, Silas is not going to want you around, is he? He’ll have to marry me now that I’m having his baby. Naturally a man in Silas’s position needs a son, and I know that my baby is going to be a boy.’
It wasn’t in Julia’s nature to be manipulative or deceitful, but rather shockingly she heard herself announce calmly, ‘Well, I’m afraid if you want to see Silas you’ll have to go to London.’
‘London? I was told he was here.’
‘He was, but his mother stopped over a short time ago and asked him to go to London to attend to some business for her.’
‘So when will he be back?’
‘I don’t know. He said not to expect him until the end of next week.’
‘Next week? I’ve got a manicure booked the day after tomorrow. Whereabouts in London is he?’
‘He normally stays at the Carlton Towers,’ Julia told her truthfully.
‘You won’t be able to keep him, you know,’ Aimee warned her. ‘Silas is mine, and I’m going to have him—no matter what it takes. Where do I get a cab?’
‘From the hotel.’
‘You mean I’ve got to walk back there in these?’ she demanded, displaying thin high-heeled lizard-skin shoes for Julia’s inspection.
‘Manolos?’ Julia guessed appreciatively.
‘Sure. I get the same design as the Hilton woman, only mine are higher. But then I guess my bank account is bigger than hers as well.’
Your ego certainly is, Julia reflected acidly. ‘I’ll walk back with you if you like.’
Anything to get rid of her before Silas got back.
‘Sure. You can carry my coat for me. I had it specially made. There’s this guy who breeds these special cats with long fur…’
Julia’s stomach heaved.
Silas couldn’t love this woman, she decided. It was totally impossible. Apart from anything else, there was something unwholesome and skin-pricklingly not quite normal about her.