by Sam Crescent
“It’s not?” So why was she here?
“No, my problem is what’s important.” He walked around the desk and stood in front of the fire. A gust of wind blew down the chimney and the flames danced higher.
“Of course. Your problem.” She paused. “What can I do to help? Just say the words.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying her, his hands now locked behind his back. He puffed up his chest, tilted his chin, and said, “Marry me, Jasmine. That’s what you can do, marry me.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open. Had she heard him right?
“I need a wife, and you will do.”
“I will do? You need a wife?” She jumped up, her heart thudding. Surely, her ears and brain were playing tricks on her. She was overtired, that was it. Or the storm was messing with her head.
“Do not look so alarmed. There are worse things that could happen.” He frowned. “I have hit several eligible bachelor lists, you know.”
“So, go marry one of the women who wants an eligible bachelor.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I have no intention of getting married.”
“And I have no intention of not being married by next Wednesday.”
“What … what is so special about next Wednesday?”
“It is my birthday.”
She was silent, confusion swimming through her head. Marry Stuart McKeith? This was the bat-shit-craziest conversation she’d ever had in her life, and there’d been a few.
“When my father died,” he said, stepping away from the fire to loom before her the way he had in the bar the night before. “He set a condition in his will.”
“Which was?” She stared up at him, his scent swirling in her nostrils.
“That I be married by thirty-five and produce children by forty-five.”
“Thirty-five.” Her eyes widened. “I’m only twenty-five.”
“If a wee age gap is all you’re concerned about, then I’ll take that as an agreement to my proposal.”
“No, no, of course that’s not all I’m concerned about.” She scowled at him. “Are you mad?”
“Is that a real question?”
“Yes, it is. We don’t know each other, I’m an employee and…”
“Minor details. What’s important is I have a wife by next Wednesday, otherwise, the majority share of my companies around the world go to my cousin, Gregory, who has three sons already. My father had a thing about family lines continuing.”
“He sure did.” She stepped backward, banging her leg on the chair.
He snapped his hand out to clasp her elbow and steady her.
She shook him off. “I have to go.”
“Go where?” He stood straight again, his features set hard as rock.
“To work.”
“Ah, that is something else we need to talk about.”
“No, no, it’s not. I told you I’ll work a few shifts for free. Take the cost of the champagne out of my wages.” She turned. This had to be the end of their conversation. Her brain was going to think she’d landed in cloud cuckoo land. “I wish you good luck with your … problem.”
Quickly, she strode to the archway, but before she reached it, he was behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest.
“Oh, what … I…” She gripped his wrist and tugged. It was no good, he had her in a vise-like grip.
“Jasmine.” His mouth was beside her ear, his breath hot. “I have not dismissed you from my office.”
“Please, let me go.”
“No.” He pulled her a little closer, the length of his body touching hers. “It doesn’t suit me to let you go, not until you agree to marry me in three days’ time.”
Anger pulsed through her veins, along with an illicit thrill at being held close by such a gorgeous man. His heat radiated onto her as a rumble of thunder rolled overhead.
Damn it. He’s a power-hungry monster.
“You can’t order me to marry you. I’m a waitress, a member of staff, not your slave,” she managed.
“I’ve never thought of you as a slave, and I promise I never will. Believe it or not, I think I’ll make a good husband.”
“It won’t be me who finds out.” She wriggled but succeeded only in finding herself spinning to face him and her hands landing on his pecs.
“Shall I tell you what will happen if you don’t marry me?” His arms were braced around her.
“You’ll fire me.” Perhaps she’d just have to suck that up.
“No.” He lowered his face.
Every dot of stubble was visible over his top lip, each eyelash plain to see. A lock of hair had fallen over his right temple. “I’ll hand you over to the authorities,” he said.
“I … I … I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, Jasmine Berry.”
Her stomach rolled, and a new shot of adrenaline made her knees weak. What did he have on her?
“You see,” he went on, “I did some investigating.”
“Snooping.”
“No, investigating. I’m a man of wealth and it makes sense to know who is around me.”
“I want to leave now.”
His mouth twitched, a half-smile, and he kept her held tight. “Your visa ran out a few months ago, and now you are here in the UK illegally. Working illegally.”
She swallowed. That wasn’t new news, she just hadn’t gotten around to extending it.
“The British government will look upon that with a very dim view and you will be sent back to America.” He paused and hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’m guessing that isn’t something you want, not with the whole Devon thing.”
“Devon? How do you know about Devon?” She gawked at him.
“There are reasons you are thousands of miles from Devon Baltishore.” He paused. “Am I right?”
She wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. How on earth could he have found out about Devon? She’d told no one here about him, only a few friends back in the States. “How did you find out about—”
“That doesn’t matter. What is important is that you marry me.” He grinned suddenly. “And then all of your problems will be gone. Puff. Disappeared.”
“Except I’ll have a big new one. A husband, an older husband I don’t want.” She shoved at him and to her surprise, he released her.
“I can assure you I won’t be as big a problem as you think. And really … do you want to be in trouble with the law on both sides of the Atlantic? I hear giving false alibis can land you with jail time.”
Again, her mouth fell open. She never would have believed those words had come out of his mouth if she hadn’t heard them with her own ears. “I … I … no … but…”
“So it’s settled. We will be wed, and it will be the answer to both of our dilemmas.”
“Wed? And you expect me to…” She hugged her arms around herself.
“I expect you to behave as a wife.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his thumbs hanging out and angling toward his groin.
She dragged her attention back up to his face.
Behave as a wife?
Sleep with Stuart McKeith? Get hot and naked with him?
While her body didn’t totally abhor the idea, even if he was ten years older, her brain was screaming in resistance.
“I’m glad we are on the same page. I will inform Benson to contact the wedding planner. You can, of course, choose all the smaller details. The dress, cake, menu, music, but I’m thinking very small, just hotel staff and a couple of my university friends from Edinburgh. I’m not bothered about the whole big family-gathering thing.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You said that already, and for the record, I’m not crazy. I’m a solution finder, and this is the solution for us both.”
“But no one will believe it. I mean … we don’t know each other. Or has that tiny detail slipped your memory?”
“We’ll say we’ve had a clandestine whirlwind romance.”
“And you think they’ll swallow that? The staff I live and work with?”
“They will do as they’re told.” He jabbed his thumb on his chest. “I’m their boss, remember?”
She rubbed her forehead. Her life had come to a fork in the road. A damn crazy fork, one she couldn’t have made up, but here she was. Marry this dominant bossy man, or land herself in a whole pile of shit with the authorities and come face-to-face with her violent ex again.
“There is another solution,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“Go on.”
She stared at him. “You don’t blackmail me and find yourself a willing wife.”
“And where would the fun in that be?” He turned and picked up a log from the basket. He dropped it onto the fire, sending a shower of sparks upward. “And where would I find someone else to marry me at such short notice?”
“There must be someone, surely you’ve dated, got a little black book or something, I mean—”
“No!” He spun around. “I’ve been busy since my father died, pre-occupied with the businesses he left me, and now I find myself about to lose it all if I don’t get a damn ring on my finger.” His voice boomed around the room. “So, you, Jasmine, are going to marry me on Wednesday and that is the end of it.”
“But … but why me? What about Natalie or—”
“No!” He scowled. “It has to be you, Jasmine.” His voice quieted. “You are…”
“What? I’m what?”
“You appeal to me. I…”
She waited for him to go on.
“I want you,” he said. “You’re the one.”
“How can you possibly say that? How can you possibly know?”
“Let’s just call it a feeling.” He pressed his hand over his chest. “Something in here. From the first time I saw you, I…” He shook his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he pointed at the archway and pulled in a deep breath. “Go and tell the staff and make sure you’re genuine about it.” He walked quickly over to her and cupped her cheeks. “Smile. Smile and tell them our happy news.”
Chapter Three
Jasmine’s legs were shaky as she walked back down the wide turret staircase. Her mind spun. It was as if her insides had been taken out, shaken up, and shoved back inside her.
Gripping the handrail, she paused at the bottom of the flight and stared at the big oak door. Beyond that was the five-star hotel she’d come to love. Within it, her new friends and colleagues, people she now adored.
“What the hell am I going to do?” Her voice echoed around the turret walls.
There was only one thing to do, even if it was unthinkable, and that was to marry Stuart McKeith.
Going back to Philadelphia wasn’t an option. Neither was facing the police—though prison would be a preferable option to staying on the streets with a furious Devon out for her blood.
She dragged in a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. She’d have to accept the lesser of the two evils and become a wife. Sure, she could run again, but with an out-of-date visa, would she get through the borders? And would she get another job? Her savings wouldn’t stretch far.
And how long would she have to be married to Stuart? A year, two, it would be better than sitting in a cell, or worse, dead at the bottom of the lake wearing concrete shoes.
A fresh tingle went down her spine, spreading around her waist and over her butt.
Behave as a wife.
Those words still rang around her head. She’d have to sleep with this big, sexy man—yes, he was sexy even if he was damn annoying. She’d have to allow his hands to roam her curves, and take his cock deep inside her body, their flesh sliding, their breaths coming in short sharp pants.
She shivered, the sensation both weirdly hot and cold at the same time.
She was buying her freedom and the currency was her body. But she could pay the price. A few years at the most, then she’d divorce Stuart and head off into the sunset with a decent bank balance. Yes, that was the plan. And she could follow through with it. She knew she could, she was made of tough stuff. Plus, and she was trying to look for positives, it meant she could stay at The Balmorals Inn and in the Highlands. Both places had already stolen her heart and she didn’t want to leave, not yet, anyway.
She reached for the key and opened the door. As she stepped out into the hallway, the quiet tinkle of the piano drifted toward her. It was Sunday, which meant Jeremy would play in the lobby for a few hours, a little extra treat for the guests mooching about.
The scent of roasting Aberdeen Angus hung in the air, a sweet flavor laced with herbs. Usually, her stomach would rumble at the smell. She’d become happily acquainted with the traditional roast dinner, but not today. Today, hovering nausea tormented her.
She spotted Natalie walking with fast efficiency past the end of the corridor.
It was time to get back to work, paste a smile into place, and serve the guests.
And then she’d have to tell Natalie about her engagement.
I’m engaged to a billionaire.
Wow, not what she’d been expecting to happen when she’d gotten out of bed that morning.
Three hours later, Jasmine sat in the small staff room just off the kitchen. Her dinner was largely untouched and small trembles kept wending their way over her skin. During the busiest part of the day, she’d pushed her troubles to one side, but the moment she’d stopped, they’d burst back into her mind.
“Hey, hen.” Natalie plonked herself down, plate loaded with beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast tatties, and veg. Steam lifted from the thick gravy. “Not hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Damn, was it that bad? With Mr. McKeith.”
“Stuart was—”
“Ah, Stuart now, is it?” Natalie laughed. “Very friendly.”
“Actually.” She swallowed. It felt as if a cork was stuck in her throat. Natalie was going to be the hardest to lie to. She knew Jasmine better than anyone else at The Balmorals Inn. “We are friendly.”
“Oh, aye?” Natalie speared a carrot and popped it in her mouth, her attention fixed on Jasmine.
“Yes, we’re getting married.” The words were like razors on her tongue.
Natalie coughed. A chunk of carrot flew across the room. “What!” Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide.
“Yes, we’re making it official.” The words were still sharp.
“But you … how? I mean… When did you?”
“We’ve been getting closer the last few months, a bit of a whirlwind romance really, and now he’s asked me to be his wife.”
“But you’re … you’re staff, and when have you had the time for this … this … whirlwind? You’re always working or sleeping.” Her eyes were still wide.
Jasmine hesitated. What she really wanted to do was tell Natalie everything. But that would mean telling her about Devon, and the fewer people who knew about him, the better—for their own safety. “Let’s just say I’m a bit sleep-deprived.”
“Wow, this is … I … I mean, it’s incredible. Stuart McKeith, well, he’s a hot bloke, the man wears his kilt well, but…”
“I know he’s a bit older than me.”
“Not what I was going to say.” She set down her knife and fork. “It’s just that, well, he’s known for getting his own way—determined, dominant, forceful, I would imagine having all of that attention directed at you is quite something.”
The knots in Jasmine’s stomach tightened.
“And—” Natalie grinned suddenly and set her plate to one side. She stood and clasped Jasmine’s hands. “I knew something was going on.”
“You did?”
“Aye, last night, in the bar. The sparks flying between the two of you were off the scale hot.”
“They were?”
“And the way he looked at you. It was like nothing else existed in that room, including me. All he could see was you. And I don’t blame him, you’re beautiful, Jasmine.” She wafted
her in the air. “And he’s clearly fallen under your spell and tumbled head-over-heels in love with you. Hell, I could practically hear his heart thudding last night.”
“In love with me.”
“Aye, and what’s not to love?” She grabbed Jasmine and hugged her.
“Oh!” Jasmine hugged her friend back and squeezed her eyes shut. There were no sparks between her and Stuart. No head-over-heels tumble into love. This was a shady deal that suited them both, nothing more than that.
Wasn’t it?
“Congratulations, Jasmine, my pretty little American friend.” Natalie pulled back. “Though I’ll miss you when you’re lady of the manor and not my service pal.”
“I’ll still be here.” Would she be working? She hadn’t even thought of that. Maybe Stuart would keep her in the castle tower, his very own Rapunzel.
“Yes, but you’ll be too rich to work.” Natalie laughed. “So, when is the big day?”
“Wednesday.”
“What the fuck?”
If Natalie had been shocked by Jasmine’s first announcement, this one looked set to floor her. Indeed, she sat back down. “Wednesday. Why so quick?” She looked at Jasmine’s belly. “Are you pregnant?”
“No! Of course not. We haven’t even … done it.”
“Bloody hell.” Natalie wiped her forehead. “Why not?”
“Er … he’s old-fashioned, I guess.”
“Well, in that case, it makes sense. Get married fast so you can start ripping each other’s clothes off.” She laughed, a sudden burst of tension and emotion. “Can’t blame you for wanting to find out what’s beneath that kilt.”
Jasmine’s thighs trembled and heat spread through her pelvis. In a few days’ time, that was exactly what would happen. Quickly, she changed the subject. “So I’ll need some help, to start planning.”
“Of course, I’ll help, just say the word.”
“And I’ll need a bridesmaid.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“I’d be honored.” Natalie jumped up again, arms outspread.
Jasmine gave her a quick hug. “I need to get out there. Check the tables are cleared.” Feeling claustrophobic, she had to remove herself from the small space. The world was closing in on her.