The Marriage Trap (Book 2, The Mackenzies)

by Diana Fraser

  She walked into her sparsely furnished bedroom. It didn’t take her long to pack a bag. Seemed she spent her life packing small bags and leaving. Difference was, this time she didn’t want to go.

  But, deep down, she’d known he’d show up some time. Their connection had been too intense to fade into nothing. New Zealand was a small country and the Mackenzie country—of which his family owned a substantial part—was a small place within it. Through compulsion and circumstance she’d known their meeting was inevitable.

  But of all the different scenarios that had played in her mind, one in which he appeared and coerced her into a loveless marriage, hadn’t even entered her head.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Christ, he must be mad. His household certainly thought he was. But if he was, so be it. There was no way he was leaving a child of his to be brought up in squalor. He’d have full control over his child this time. There were things he hadn’t told Gemma about his wife, things that were nothing to do with her, but that had left an indelible mark on him. There was no way he was leaving a child of his to the vagaries of fate. He turned to see Gemma hesitating by her car.

  “I’ll follow in my car.”

  He sighed. “Get in.”

  “I can’t just leave it there. It might get stolen.” Her voice trailed off as she looked across at the late model BMW.

  “I’ll get someone to bring it over to Glencoe tomorrow.” He paced up to her, grabbed her bags. “We’ll go in mine.”

  “No, I’ll go in my car.”

  He could tell by the jut of her jaw that he’d triggered her stubborn streak. Well, she’d met her match with him. “Gemma, just get in, will you? Or do I have to do what I did that first night? Pick you up and sling you over my shoulder?” He opened the door for her to enter.

  Her eyes narrowed as they met his before she stepped into the car. He reached over grabbed the seat belt and strapped her in. Her face was like chalk, her brown eyes huge, but still she resisted.

  “Trying to keep me restrained, Callum? It’ll take more than a seat belt.”

  “It’s for your own safety. And the baby’s.”

  She swallowed, bit her lip and nodded stiffly as he closed the door on her. He jumped in beside her, switched on the ignition and roared away from her house, along the track towards Glencoe. Dust bloomed around them in the dying light of the long summer evening. Far in the distance the mountains rose, snow-capped and remote.

  He’d been hard and he knew it. But he couldn’t trust her not to turn around and head straight back to her homestead. And he wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. This time he would be in control—for her and the baby’s sake.

  He glanced at her and saw she was staring at her house in the rearview mirror, watching it through the plume of dust in the darkening light. It had always been a landmark, one that had diminished over time as the trees had grown, but for some reason Callum couldn’t fathom, Gemma’s mark on the house had changed it.

  She seemed to change everything she came into contact with. But he’d be damned if he’d let her change him. He was in control of his life. And that was the way it would stay. He wanted, he needed to care for his child. Period. There would be nothing else between him and Gemma. If he let his guard down he was afraid he’d let her into his life. He’d let his guard down once with a woman and he wouldn’t be repeating that mistake.

  No, once she was there, at Glencoe, he’d make sure she stayed. And he’d make just as sure he kept his distance.

  The high mountains of the Southern Alps lay before them as they drove straight as an arrow up the river valley towards the Mackenzie land at Glencoe. Foot hills, darkened and out of sight of the low sun, framed the massive plateau of the Mackenzie Basin. It usually had an uplifting effect on Gemma. But tonight the silence and long twilight of this southern land lay heavy on her heart, deepening her sense of loss.

  “And why you had to drive me I don’t know.” She knew she was being petty. There was so much to say, so many important things and yet this was what rankled most at that moment.

  There was no reply.

  “It’s not as if it was my old car. Now, that was unreliable.” She sighed. It seemed she was talking to herself so she might as well continue. “No, I’m driving a BMW now. Surprised?” Not by his reaction, he wasn’t. “Yes, I thought you might be. The mechanic couldn’t repair my old bomb and said that I could use the BMW. The owner was a friend of his and was away for a while. Pretty generous really. So I’ve been totally safe driving around, in case you were concerned.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “Somehow I don’t think you were though, were you?”

  “Gemma, you seem to have made up your mind about me, so I hardly think it’s important what I say. Do you?”

  She shrugged. “True. I rely on instinct to get me through life. It hasn’t failed me yet.” If only she’d believed her instinct when it shouted at her to not get involved with Paul. She glanced at Callum, his mouth and jaw, firm and grim. “I’m guessing instinct isn’t something you’re familiar with.”

  “My businesses take more than instinct to turn a profit.”

  “A computer can run a business. It can’t run a life.” Not her life anyway. Instinct had driven her to New Zealand, it had drawn her to the old homestead and she’d found a life for herself. And now it was gone again. It wasn’t fair, but she’d always known life wasn’t fair.

  She was marrying a man who’d made it clear he had no feelings for her, for the sake of their child. It was a sacrifice that her parents hadn’t been prepared to make for their child. And a lonely, love-deprived upbringing had resulted. She had no choice but to sacrifice her independence if she wanted to give her child a half decent chance at life.

  She fixed her gaze on Glencoe, the rich, red brick mansion standing apart from its dun-colored surroundings like the statement of might that it was. With its outbuildings, farmers cottages, estate offices and stables it looked like a world contained in itself—a medieval village where the Mackenzies were lord and master. The image seemed fitting somehow. She was to be married to a man who only wanted her for what she could bring to him—their child. Nothing much had changed in a millennium. It wasn’t a cheering thought.

  They drew up outside the sweep of steps that led to the portico that sheltered the front door. Their car doors slammed shut in the stillness of the evening and Callum opened the front door for her and stepped aside. “Welcome back to Glencoe.”

  She flicked up her eyes. “Ironic, since I feel I’ve been kidnapped.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s an arrangement that meets both our needs. That’s all.”

  She entered the foyer ahead of Callum, her eyes adjusting to the darker interior. Nothing had changed since her last visit. She doubted anything had changed over the past century.

  He looked at his watch. “Go and get changed. We’re dining at eight.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You will eat. And you will look after yourself. That’s part of the deal.”

  “What are you going to do? Force feed me?”

  “If I have to. But it won’t be necessary because you will come to the dining room and you will eat.” He looked over Gemma’s shoulder.

  Gemma turned to see the woman she’d met before, Maria. “Welcome back to Glencoe, Miss Winters. I’ve prepared a room for you.”

  Gemma frowned. “How did you know—”

  “Any word from Lady Mackenzie?” Callum interrupted.

  “Lady Mackenzie phoned, sir. She’ll be joining you for dinner to meet Miss Winters.”

  Callum nodded. “Good. May as well get it over with.”

  Maria coughed. Callum turned to her. “And the BMW at Blackrock? Its warrant of fitness is overdue, I believe. Shall I have someone collect it?”

  Gemma frowned and looked questioningly to Callum. “What—”

  “Yes, please do, Maria.” Callum placed a large hand on Gemma’s back. “I’ll show you to your room.”r />
  “I’ve prepared the guest room next to yours, as you requested.” Maria said.

  Next to his! Gemma contented herself with pushing away his arm and giving him a glare until Maria had disappeared.

  “Lady Mackenzie? How did she know I’d be here? Come to that, how did Maria know I’d be staying? And in the room next to yours?”

  “I told them both. May as well face her sooner rather than later. This way, Gemma.”

  “And, while I’m at it, how does Maria know what kind of car I drive? Hmm? I met the woman briefly five months ago and she knows the model of my car and that its warrant of fitness is due. Explain that.”

  “You’re not stupid, Gemma. Put two and two together.”

  “Oh, I have. And they’ve made twenty-two. You’re the friend of my mechanic aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not. But of course I arranged it for you. Your old car was completely unreliable. I didn’t want you breaking down in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Why not? You’d jacked me up with the car way before even I knew I was pregnant. Were you paying me for services rendered? Or were you simply being kind? I don’t believe you do anything for simple reasons, do you Callum?”

  “You can read into it whatever you like.”

  “But, there again, I would never have known it was your car until Maria let the cat out of the bag. Payment for services rendered isn’t usually anonymous. Kindness is though.”

  “Gemma, you’re talking too much.”

  “Oh, am I? I didn’t realize I needed permission from you to talk. Perhaps you’d be good enough to let me know when I should stop talking?”

  “Any time soon would be good.”

  She contented herself with a glare at his broad back. They walked in silence along the mezzanine landing that ran the length of the hall below. The whole place glowed—the toffee-colored wooden rail, the gold and green ogee wallpaper and the gilt-edged landscape paintings that hung between the doors. He stopped abruptly.

  “In here.”

  She walked past him onto the faded Turkish carpet of the simply furnished room. It was different, less elaborate than the others and didn’t look out onto the formal view at the front of the house, but out to the back, to the woods and mountains beyond.

  She folded her arms. “Nice view, nice room, but it’s next to yours. Why? We’ve agreed we’d have no relationship. If I can’t have my freedom on my own, I’m damn sure I’m going to keep it within our marriage. That’s the deal.”

  “I can assure you I want nothing else from our marriage.”

  Gemma met his hard gaze. The sting in his words and cool tone of his voice hurt, as he’d intended. But they were a response to her own barbed comments. She couldn’t seem to help it. If it wasn’t for the constant hum of electricity that charged up as soon as he came close to her, she might have managed to be civil. But she found herself throwing hurtful words at him to stop herself from drawing close to the fire that smoldered between them. He could say whatever he liked, she could proclaim whatever she liked, but the reactions of their bodies didn’t lie. “That’s fine with me.” Another lie. “I’ve surrendered my freedom to you. I’m not about to let you have my body too. We’ve made a deal. You get our child. You don’t get me.”

  “So keep your end of the deal. Dinner tonight with mother. Then, tomorrow, I’ve arranged a doctor’s appointment for you. I expect you downstairs at nine.”

  “Fine!” she snapped back. “But don’t think you can continue to order me around like this because I won’t stand for it.”

  For a long moment they stared at each other as the anger and hurt raged inside her. She tried to see in his eyes some kind of chink in that hard surface, some kind of sign that he felt something more. There was no change, just a barely perceptible nod—its meaning ambiguous. A simple acknowledgement of her words or agreement? She didn’t know.

  She turned away and looked out the window. She closed her eyes as she heard him approach. He stood just behind her and her anger disappeared instantly, it was as if he’d put his arms around her and held her. Her body ached for his touch.

  He cleared his throat. “The view’s to the east—not the best, but I’ve always liked to see the sun rise.”

  “Me too. New beginnings.” She bit her lip to stop it trembling. “Usually, they promise so much…”

  He moved away without another word. The door opened and closed with quiet deliberation—just as he did everything else: with purpose, without fuss, with a finality that cut through to the bone.

  She sat heavily onto the bed after he left and dropped her head in her hands. For all her bravado, she felt shattered.

  Christ, what had she done? But she knew. It was the only thing that she could do to give her child the care that she’d been deprived of.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  From the paintings that lined the room, her gaze flew to the furniture, to the food, to the books and then back to the paintings again, with a restless energy. If it was intelligence and curiosity that sparked in her eyes, it was sensuality that ruled her mouth.

  She took a forkful of salmon, heaped with herb sauce and closed her eyes briefly, savoring the contrast between the piquancy of the sauce and richness of the fish. Her tongue flicked around full lips that were strongly defined and perfectly drawn.

  His life had taken an unexpected turn but he was in control again now. More than that, he felt strangely relaxed, content even, simply watching her. She licked a tiny drop of glistening sauce from her lips. He remembered the taste of her on his lips and he involuntarily licked his own.

  “You appear to enjoy your food, Miss Winters.”

  Inwardly Callum groaned as he glanced at his mother.

  “I usually eat at The Lake House Café after my shift’s finished. This makes a change.”

  “Café…” Lady Mackenzie echoed faintly.

  “Yes, café. Eating there is one of the perks.”

  “One of the perks you’ll no longer have, now you’re not working there.”

  Callum noted his mother’s smug smile with irritation.

  Gemma frowned. “Of course I’ll work there.”

  “No.” Callum agreed with his mother on this point.

  Gemma sat back, the cutlery landing on the plate with a clatter.

  “No? Care to elaborate?”

  “It’s pretty obvious. You have no need to work in a café. And…” he shrugged, “you’ll have your hands full soon enough.”

  “I see. So I have no say in this?”

  He sat back, watching her, wondering why he had such a strong desire to goad her. Was it pleasure in seeing her so riled—her flushed cheeks certainly brought to mind another time when her skin had been glowing and her eyes bright—or was it some kind of retaliation against her, for so obviously not wanting to be here, with him?

  “I spoke to the manager of the cafe this morning.”

  “You had no right to discuss my work with my boss. I’ll keep on working if I want to.”

  “Miss Winters, if I may intercede on Callum’s behalf, a café isn’t a place for a Mackenzie woman.”

  Gemma looked from Callum to his mother, opened her mouth to speak before obviously thinking better of it. “Callum, we should discuss this later.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing to discuss.”

  “And I think there is. We’ll talk about it later.” She picked up her cutlery once more.

  He sipped his drink. She’d find out soon enough that he’d only spoken briefly to Liz, the manager of the cafe. They were old friends and she’d rung him about something else. He’d only told her that Gemma would be in touch.

  His mother appeared to have enjoyed the disagreement. “So tell me, Miss Winters, what do you intend to do with your new free time?”

  Gemma shot her a dark look.

  “Gemma’s an artist, mother.”

  “Oh, really? What do you paint?”

  Gemma took a deep breath. “Abstracts mainly. Not like th
e Woolaston over there.” She nodded to a large canvas of rolling hills in subtle shades of green and ochre by one of New Zealand’s most famous artists.

  His mother laughed. “I should think not. That is a masterpiece. My late husband was a great collector. It’s nice you have a hobby.” She sipped her wine, paused and turned to Gemma again. It was obvious she wasn’t going to let up.

  “Gemma’s a good artist, mother,” interjected Callum, trying to pre-empt another shot at Gemma. “I’ve seen her paintings.”

  Gemma shook her head in denial. “I’m not very good, I just—”

  “Art is such a subjective thing, wouldn’t you say, Miss Winters?”

  “Sure. Like just about everything else.”

  “Indeed. Sometimes it’s hard to understand what someone is thinking of when they make big decisions, based on nothing more than,” she shrugged her elegantly narrow shoulders, “whim.”

  First hit.

  His mother always managed to wind him up. She never came out and said exactly what she was thinking, merely insinuated, so she couldn’t be opposed. It drove him mad. But he’d always found it best not to say anything at all. So he focused on his food and took another mouthful. When he looked up Gemma was glancing from him to his mother and back again.

  “Anyway, Miss Winters—”

  “Gemma, please.”

  His mother smiled a tight little smile that echoed the cool blue of her eyes. “I prefer not to assume intimacy after only minutes of meeting. Unlike others.”

  Second hit.

  “What I was wondering was when the baby was due.”

  Third hit. It had come much sooner than Callum had expected. He didn’t know who was more surprised, Gemma or himself.

  Gemma cleared her throat. “August.”

  “Oh,” his mother said lightly. “So soon.” She turned a cold face to Callum. “And the wedding, Callum, where do you intend to marry?”

  He shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  Lady Mackenzie wiped her mouth on the napkin and placed it beside her plate with finality. “The Mackenzies have always married in Christchurch Cathedral. You married Claire there.” She sighed. “But the cathedral is no longer, unfortunately. Thanks to the earthquake. I’ll find somewhere else in Christchurch.”