The Marriage Trap (Book 2, The Mackenzies)

by Diana Fraser

  “Don’t look so gloomy, let’s dance.” Lucia indicated the dance floor. Gemma grinned. Whatever her issues with Callum, she couldn’t have asked for a lovelier sister-in-law than Cassandra or better friends than Lucia and Rebecca. Gemma jumped up and followed Lucia and Cassandra to the dance floor, grabbing Rebecca’s protesting hand on the way.

  “But, I don’t dance,” Rebecca shouted above the music.

  “You do now.” Gemma grinned.

  Gemma stopped long enough for Rebecca to swig back her drink to give her courage. Gemma’s grin widened as Rebecca pushed her glasses on her nose and self-consciously shifted from one leg to the other more or less in time to the driving beat. Rebecca was an academic through and through, it was about time she let that glorious hair down.

  As soon as the music stopped, Rebecca made a beeline back to the table where she downed the glass the waiter had refilled.

  “Easy, Rebecca. You’re not used to drinking.”

  Rebecca smiled unsteadily and unfocused. “No, but it’s quite nice. Makes all of this”—she gestured around the club—“more manageable somehow.”

  Gemma laughed. “You should get out more often.”

  “I’m too busy. I need to have my new project proposal finished by next month if I’m to attract research grants.”

  Gemma let her mind drift. Research, schmesearch. It was all the same to her. Rebecca was a beautiful girl who had steadfastly resisted Gemma’s attempts at matchmaking since she’d been in New Zealand. But now a new thought flitted through her mind. She palmed her forehead. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She got out her cell and rang Morgan.

  “May I have this dance?”

  Gemma turned to find Callum standing behind her—his tall, broad presence, unmoving amongst the swaying bodies.

  “I’m not sure that’s proper on a hen night.”

  “I don’t think there’s much ‘proper’ about us any more.”

  She couldn’t contain a grin as he pulled her to him. “I guess you’re right. So, tell me, why are you here?”

  They swayed to the slow music for a while. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  She groaned against his chest. “Didn’t think you cared.”

  “I care about my own. And that’s just what you are—what you will be.”

  She smiled shakily. “Care for me like you would one of your possessions.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you mean, right?”

  “What does it matter? All you need to know is that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “As extensive as you no doubt think your power is, I really don’t think you’re able to control everything.” Least of all her own heart. He was breaking it with every word.

  “Of course. I’m not God.” He hesitated as his eyes searched her own for the truth. His thumb caressed her cheek. She tried desperately to hide her thoughts and her feelings but nothing could stop the electric response of her body to his touch. Her lips parted as his thumb dragged lazily towards them. “But I’ll give him a run for his money.”

  She laughed aloud and Callum’s mouth twitched in amusement.

  He tilted her chin so she faced him. “That’s more like it.”

  The laughter had banished the tension and their eyes locked. He narrowed his eyes in challenge as he moved closer to her. Her skin goose-bumped as his hands slowly stroked down her arms before shifting and coming to rest on the top of her hips. His hands hitched up her dress slightly until his fingers spread around her hips, his thumbs sliding down to rest in the groove between her swollen stomach and her hip bones, following the line of her underwear. A throbbing heat settled deep inside. His breath quickened against her cheek and the skin over the pulse in his neck betrayed his heart was beating as fast as her own.

  He pulled her closer to him but suddenly his body tensed and he stepped away. “What’s Morgan doing here?”

  She followed his gaze. “Oh,” she shrugged. “I called him.”

  “And why did you do that?”

  Anger was evident in every syllable. She stood back and crossed her arms. She was about to reply in kind when Cassandra suddenly appeared.

  “Callum, what on earth are you doing here? This is a hen’s night, may I remind you.” She shooed him away. “Off you go. You’ll see Gemma soon enough tomorrow.”

  Callum watched as Cassandra grabbed one of Gemma’s arms and Lucia another and playfully marched her away. He glanced once more at Morgan, who was sitting beside Rebecca, neither of them talking, as they watched Gemma. What the hell was going on? Anger filled him. He’d been a fool to suggest Morgan accompany Gemma around the estate. Not because he didn’t trust Morgan. It was Gemma he didn’t trust. He’d been a fool to think Gemma was different from Claire. Claire had needed the flattery and attention of other men and so, it seemed, did Gemma. There was one thing he hadn’t been a fool about and that was to keep her at an emotional distance.

  He walked outside and breathed deeply of the night air.

  Gemma sat, fully clothed on the chaise by the open window in her bedroom, listening to the morepork hooting his sweetly soft call over the valley, waiting for Callum to come. She’d have it out with him. They were to be married tomorrow. This couldn’t go on. One face in public, the other in private. Physical intimacy with no emotional intimacy—she couldn’t do it.

  She glanced at her watch. It was late. Everywhere was quiet. She ran a glass of water and sipped it while she waited. At last she heard the sounds she was waiting for. Callum’s footsteps. Theirs were the only bedrooms in that wing. It could only be him.

  She frowned as the footsteps walked past her door. Surely he wasn’t going to keep with tradition and not see her the night before the wedding? No. It wasn’t that. He’d admitted he didn’t care for traditions.

  He’d come. He always came. But his footsteps kept on walking. The door closed and a heavy silence fell.

  The sound of a single dog howling from a distant property across the valley underscored Gemma’s sadness.

  She rose wearily and faced herself in the bathroom mirror while she tipped the water down the sink. She looked at her reflection blankly as she took off her make-up before it could run. She didn’t manage it. But it would be the last time. No more tears after tonight. Tomorrow, on her wedding day, she’d make him see.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “...From this day forward until death do us part…”

  The words sounded like a death knell to Gemma’s ears, a life sentence. A deep fear, almost physical, rose up and tightened around her chest. She pushed away a strand of hair that clung cloyingly to her damp cheek, desperately trying to keep the panic at bay. She focused on Callum’s jaw—the stubble, for once, absent—so everyone would think she was looking at him, everyone but Callum.

  One quick glance revealed he was as cool as ever, unconcerned, and ruggedly handsome. The perfect man. Unfortunately it didn’t seem she was the perfect woman for him.

  Her life had turned into a mess of deceit and hypocrisy, just like her parents’, just like Paul’s—everyone fooling themselves they were doing the right thing, everyone hurting everyone else in the process. And Callum? For all his integrity, he was fooling himself most of all.

  Gemma sucked in a long, slow breath, calming herself of her fears and drawing the cooling strength of the fragrant air deep inside—a strength that transformed the fear into anger, the desperation into determination.

  Gemma’s eyelashes on her downturned gaze barely flickered in response to the Pastor’s words. Callum saw her mind was elsewhere but it was only in her trembling hands, that he held in his, that he could sense the tension. Tenderness flooded his heart and he yearned to pull her to him in a hard, passionate kiss, to connect with her, just as he did by night when there was no distance between them. But he froze. He couldn’t give her anything further. Seeing her at the café, watching her with Morgan, had aroused all the bitter feelings of jealousy and anger that
he’d thought he’d buried with Claire. It had confirmed his need to retain control because he never wanted to feel that pain again.

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  Callum reached over and lifted the veil from Gemma’s face, revealing the delicate lines of her face under the soft light that filtered through the church windows. Her eyes lifted up to his, their soft brown now expressing a determination and challenge that hadn’t been there before.

  His mother coughed indiscreetly and he realized everyone was waiting for him to kiss the bride. He dipped his head and kissed Gemma chastely on the lips. He quickly pulled away, but couldn’t take his eyes away from hers, where the determination was briefly replaced by hurt. But only briefly. She looked away and flashed a smile at everyone, embarrassed by his obvious coldness. The whoops and cheers and laughter filtered through to him, subdued as if they came from far away, as they both turned and walked down the aisle.

  The Church of the Good Shepherd had been the perfect choice. He’d caught Gemma looking at the altar and he knew she’d been remembering their afternoon together. They’d made a connection in the church. Something had sprung into life, fresh and young, but too tender. He’d squashed it before it could flower. If she was remembering that day, her expression was the opposite of the one he recalled. Her jaw jutted in determination, even as she smiled politely to everyone around her—a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone who knew her, because her eyes were bright with the warning flare of anger.

  Outside the church, the brilliant autumn light sparkled as clouds of confetti rained down on them both. Friends and family, together with curious locals, thronged around them.

  “A kiss! A kiss!” the crowd shouted.

  Callum turned to Gemma, his hand automatically reaching up to dislodge a piece of confetti caught in the sweep of red hair that was held in a long, loose knot at the nape of her neck. “A kiss, Mrs. Mackenzie?”

  She leaned into him. “An inside kiss or an outside kiss?” Her whisper could only be heard by him.

  He frowned. He knew she was referring to the difference between how they were in the bedroom to how they were in front of the rest of the world.

  “As you like.”

  “Umm.” That same flare deepened in her eyes, masking the anger with the unmistakable hunger of desire. She pulled his head towards hers and pressed her lips against his. She held him firm as she deepened the kiss, pushing her tongue against his. It was as if he’d been punched in the gut, depriving him of all his control—and he slid his tongue over hers, pressing his lips harder to hers, sinking his fingers into the soft curves of her body.

  Then she pulled away, her eyes narrowed in triumph. He stepped back and blinked as he realized where he was. But their eyes held. She’d issued a challenge. He shook his head slightly. It was a challenge she wasn’t going to win. There was too much at stake.

  “You’ve a beautiful bride, brother.”

  “As do you.”

  Callum and Dallas looked over to where their wives stood under the shade of a rose-covered pergola. One tall and dark, the other petite and red-headed, their attention completely absorbed in Lily’s baby sister who laughed as Gemma produced a rattle from a different position behind her body each time. They could hear the baby’s infectious chuckle from where they stood, echoed by the women’s laughter.

  “We’re lucky men, Callum. Who’d have thought it a few years ago?”

  “Certainly not me.”

  “Is everything okay with you and Gemma? Seems to me you’ve kept your distance. Haven’t seen you touch her once, apart from that pathetic excuse for a kiss you gave her after the vows had been exchanged. Looks as though your new wife knows how to kiss though. What’s all that about?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? Come on! I haven’t been able to keep my hands off Cassandra since I met her—except for a few months when we were apart, which damn nearly killed me. But you seem too cool with Gemma.”

  “Cut the analysis. I’m not interested. It’s an arrangement we’re both happy with, so just leave it at that.”

  “An ‘arrangement?’ You cold-hearted bastard! Are you telling me that it was only about the land? Some kind of deal? She gives you the land and she gets you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Bad deal on her part.” Dallas pressed his lips together in a tight line as he struggled to keep quiet. He shook his head and sighed. “Look, Callum, life doesn’t run smooth. Love doesn’t run smooth—no-one knows that better than me. But there have been stranger beginnings to marriages that have ended up strong. All I’m saying is, give your marriage a chance. Don’t kill it stone dead with indifference before it’s begun.”

  Callum glared at his brother. “Quit lecturing me. I’m not interested.”

  “Not interested in what? Your marriage?” He shook his head, incredulous. “You’ve only just got married!”

  “Look, Dallas. While you were out hellraising, I spent my teens being an emotional prop to our mother. I escaped into a marriage to a woman I loved which was cut short too soon. The last thing I need is some emotionally needy woman dragging me down.”

  He felt a light touch on his arm from behind and turned abruptly to see Gemma, her dress and veil billowing cloud-like in the breeze, emphasizing her slightness. Dallas groaned and stepped away.

  “‘Emotionally needy,’ Callum?” Gemma’s voice drifted across to him in a precise whisper. “And if I am, who made me that way? Who insisted on marriage, insisted on me giving up my job? Insisted on being there for you, just in case you decided you wanted me.” Her eyes glittered. “The answer is you. And if you don’t like what you’ve got, then I suggest you’d better make some changes.” She narrowed her eyes that were almost black in the harsh overhead light and walked towards the house.

  The sound of slow clapping made him turn around. Dallas had witnessed everything.

  “Good one, Callum. You really know how to make your marriage work, don’t you?”

  “Shut it, Dallas.”

  Dallas fisted his hands and gritted his teeth. “Don’t talk to me like that, mate. I don’t want to end up throwing a punch at my brother on his wedding day.”

  Callum, distracted, as he watched Gemma disappear indoors, turned and saw his short-tempered brother’s flash of anger. “Just like the old days, huh?” He shook his head. “Those days are over. If there’s one thing we’ve both learned, it’s control.” He sighed.

  “Darling! Over here please!” Lady Mackenzie was beckoning to one of them. They both looked around for James.

  “Where the hell’s the favorite son when you need him?” Dallas exclaimed. He’d swiftly recovered from the flare up.

  “He was eyeing up your nanny, last time I looked.”

  They both sighed. “Gone for the afternoon then.”

  “Darling! Here!”

  “It won’t be me she’s after,” said Dallas. “However, I think you’ve got more important things to sort out. I’ll go and see what the old lady wants.”

  Dallas approached his mother, engaged her in conversation, and slipped an arm around her shoulders in an effort to distract her as Callum followed Gemma.

  Gemma fought back the tears as she walked quickly through the house, quiet except for the clatter of plates in the distant kitchen and the banging of doors as waiters walked back and forth. Even the powerful voice of the opera singer and the musicians was muted once she reached the Orangerie. Here she stopped, glanced around, and stepped inside.

  Gemma’s footfall was quiet on the original clay pavers, either side of which ferns stretched up to the roof, grown tall in the warm, moist air. She stopped at the fountain that lay at the heart of the Orangerie. She could hear nothing but its soothing splash and the distant voice of the singer. Only then did she let the tears fall. She fisted her hands into her dress and stood, gazing up to the glassed dome ceiling and the cobalt blue sky beyond. What the hell was she going to do?

  But she had no time to
consider as she heard the Orangerie door open and close. The footsteps rang more loudly as they approached. She swiped her thumbs under her eyes in a vain attempt to hide the traces of tears that, no doubt, could be seen all too clearly. It was only moments before Callum appeared around the screen of tall ferns and stopped, as if shocked by what he saw.

  “Gemma?”

  She cleared her throat. “What? Come to take me back to the reception? Mustn’t let our guests see what a complete mess we’re making of our lives.” She could hear the bitterness and anger in her words but they were too consuming to hide.

  He was beside her in a moment. She tried to sidestep around him but he was too quick and slid his arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry, Gemma.” She tried to push him away but he didn’t let his grip weaken.

  “For what, exactly? Everything or just the fact you called me ‘needy?’” She didn’t pause for an answer. “I have no illusions about myself, Callum. But you’re wrong. Quite wrong. The only thing I want from you is to care for our child. I’ve always wanted my independence. It’s you who keeps me dependent. You don’t want me to work and so, while I’m pregnant, I won’t. I’ve done what I’ve said I’d do. I’ve upheld my part of the bargain. Have you?” She pulled away and this time he let her go. “Who was it who took me to the shepherd’s cottage all those months ago. Who was it who came to Blackrock and demanded I come with you to Glencoe? And who was it who told me, outside the church, that you cared for me?”

  With each sentence, Gemma’s voice grew louder, more angry. Callum’s grip tightened around her waist but said nothing.

  “How could you, Callum? How could you continue to humiliate me, time after time, in front of your friends and family? And you know what? The worst of it is that I hardly care because the others don’t matter. But what you say matters to me.” She tore his hands from her and pushed past him.