The Millionaire's Christmas Wife

by Helen Brooks

  ‘You want to run away? Again?’ he added grimly.

  ‘I didn’t run away. I left you because you’d made it impossible for me to stay by having an affair,’ she shouted back. Loudly.

  ‘You believed what you’d schooled yourself to believe. What you had willed would happen one day. Deep in your mind it was just a matter of time.’

  ‘I saw you.’ Only the fact Jay was driving prevented her from hitting him. As this knowledge registered it served like a bucket of icy cold water over her head. Miriam had always considered herself the gentlest of souls, but right at this moment if she could have really hurt him she knew she would have done so.

  What was she turning into? she asked herself, horrified. What had he turned her into? She drew in a long silent breath. ‘I’d like to go home now, please.’

  He glanced at her white face and the next moment she was aware they were turning off the brightly lit main road into a quieter tree-lined side-road. As he cut the engine he turned, taking her into his arms before she had time to object. He kissed her as she struggled against him and after a minute or two she stopped fighting him. It was only then he raised his head to say softly, ‘You are home, Miriam, here in my arms. It’s just a matter of believing it, that’s all.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She felt too emotionally drained to argue.

  ‘You will.’ He sounded so sure, so confident that she felt a second’s sharp anger spear the weariness. ‘But for now no more talking. We’re going to the theatre tonight—I’ve got the tickets here—and then for a meal at Ravencrofts, where I’ve reserved a quiet table for two tucked away in a secluded alcove.’

  She raised her eyes, her gaze holding his for an infinitesimal moment. ‘It’s no good, Jay. You know that in the heart of you, don’t you? We can’t go back to the way things were.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back to how it was.’ There was a significant pause before he added, ‘This time you’re going to give me your whole heart, Miriam. I want you body, soul and spirit—nothing else will do.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  MIRIAM woke up at six o’clock the next morning, long before her alarm was due to go off. Unusually for her she was instantly wide awake, although she remained curled under the duvet as she reviewed every minute of the day before, her heart beating faster as she pictured Jay’s hard, handsome face on the screen of her mind.

  The theatre seats had been for a show she’d been longing to see for ages but for which she’d been unable to get tickets, it being booked solid for months ahead. Needless to say, Jay had secured a couple of the best seats in the house along with champagne and strawberries served in their box in the interval. He had dropped off the car in the company car park and hailed a taxi to the theatre, and when they’d emerged from the show another taxi had been waiting to take them to Ravencrofts, an exclusive and very expensive restaurant in the heart of London’s West End.

  The meal had been wonderful and he had been the epitome of congenial dinner companion, keeping the conversation light and amusing. When he had taken her home he’d kept the taxi waiting while he saw her to her front door, and although this time he had kissed her goodnight it had been a friendly, undemanding kiss and he had left immediately.

  And today she was seeing him again. Miriam sat up in bed at the thought, wrapping her arms round her knees as she considered her stupidity. And it was stupid to play with fire. She rocked back and forth a couple of times before snuggling under the covers again as the chill in the room struck. The heating wasn’t due to come on for another hour.

  In the quietness of the room Jay’s words of the day before played in her head over and over again. She had been too emotionally and mentally exhausted the night before to do more than shower and fall into bed, but now her mind was like a dog with a bone. Away from the piercing tawny eyes she allowed herself to consider what he’d said about her father and her attitude to love and the male species. She had always told herself she had attracted a certain type of man because she was too soft, and lame ducks, men who had needed her to look after them to some extent and take charge, had seemed to recognise this. Now she found herself wondering if rather than them seeking her out, she had been the one to instigate her previous relationships before Jay. Could he be right? Had she subconsciously been making sure she was always the one in control of the relationship? Certainly she had never felt the slightest inclination to get serious with any of them.

  She tossed and turned under the duvet, the nature of her musing making her uncomfortable and irritable. Even with that in mind, it still didn’t alter what Jay had done, she told herself after a contemplative half-hour. In fact it only proved she had been right not to get involved with the handsome, charming, love-’em-and-leave-’em types in the past.

  Although Jay hadn’t loved her and left her, not really.

  The thought came out of the blue and propelled her out of bed regardless of the cold. Pulling on her bathrobe, she decided on an early-morning soak but once she was lying in the warm water she found herself thinking about him again. He had always insisted on his innocence and had never written them off as a couple. It had been her who’d done that.

  With good reason, another part of her mind argued. She had virtually caught him in the act with Belinda, for goodness’ sake. And then the woman had confirmed all her fears when she had spoken about their affair. Why would Belinda have done that if she hadn’t been sleeping with Jay?

  Jealousy? the first voice suggested. A woman scorned and all that. The green-eyed monster was a powerful one.

  She lay back in the soapy water, her head whirling as something like panic gripped her. She couldn’t rethink all this, she couldn’t. Not just because she had been with Jay yesterday and fallen under his spell. Clara had said he could convince her black was white and Clara was right.

  ‘I know what I know.’ She said the words out loud because she needed to hear them. If she started doubting herself now it would mean the last miserable ten months had been for nothing, that she was the one at fault. And she wasn’t. Jay had made her out to be some sort of headcase yesterday, when she thought about it, with all that talk concerning her father. What was that if not controlling? Well, she wasn’t going to be manipulated.

  She sat up sharply in the water, causing a wave to swish over onto the tiled floor. She had to be resolute and true to herself. She couldn’t let herself become nothing more than a puppet, dancing to Jay’s tune.

  Clara knocked on her door at nine o’clock, still in her nightie and bathrobe—black, obviously—and looking curiously childlike without the outrageous eye make-up and with her hair as yet unspiked for the day. Bounding into the bedsit like an eager puppy, she plumped herself down on the floor after dragging a cushion off the sofa. ‘Right, all the gory details, please,’ she demanded serenely.

  Miriam smiled. ‘Sorry to disappoint but he was the perfect gentleman.’

  ‘Again?’ Clara wrinkled her small nose. ‘You mean he didn’t try and have his wicked way with you?’

  Miriam shook her head.

  ‘So what did you do? Where did you go? When are you seeing him again?’

  ‘We had lunch, a walk by the river, went to the theatre and then dinner and I’m seeing him again in exactly—’ Miriam made a show of glancing at her wristwatch ‘—two hours.’

  ‘You are? Oh, Miriam.’ Clara shook her head in despair. ‘I knew it. He’s reeled you in again.’

  ‘He most certainly has not.’

  Bright blue eyes met soft brown. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And there are no interesting details of the kiss-and-tell variety?’

  ‘None.’ She had decided to draw a veil over that blistering kiss before they’d left the bedsit yesterday.

  ‘Well, put the coffee on and I’ll tell you something really funny.’

  Miriam looked more closely at her friend. There had been a note in Clara’s voice she couldn’t place; something between excited and sheepish was th
e best way to describe it. ‘What’s happened?’

  Clara shifted on the cushion, looking down at her hands, which were playing with the corded edging as she said, ‘You know that guy I told you about? The one I’ve been talking to at work?’

  ‘The one who’s—’ Miriam had been going to say celibate but changed it to, ‘in tune with himself?’

  Clara nodded. ‘We’re seeing each other.’

  Miriam busied herself with the coffee, keeping her voice casual as she said, ‘So why is that funny?’

  ‘You’ll know when you see him. Not that there’s anything the matter with him,’ Clara added quickly, ‘there’s not, he’s—he’s great, but very…establishment. You know?’

  Miriam wasn’t quite sure she did. ‘Establishment?’

  Clara waved a black-taloned hand. ‘You know, suit and tie, polished shoes, drives to the speed limit and is good to his mother, that sort of thing.’

  Miriam handed Clara her coffee. ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly.’ Clara’s voice was verging on a wail. ‘I mean, me with someone like that. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘But you like him,’ Miriam said carefully, sitting down on the remaining cushion on the sofa and taking a sip of coffee.

  Clara nodded.

  ‘And he likes you?’

  If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes Miriam would have said it was impossible, but Clara actually went pink as she said, ‘He says he does.’

  Miriam thought for a moment. ‘Well, look at it like this. You’ve always gone for edgy, shall we say somewhat…outrageous types, yes? Which with the way you are is probably to be expected. By going out with someone like…’

  ‘Brian,’ Clara supplied.

  ‘Really? Brian?’ Miriam couldn’t think of a more circumspect name. ‘OK, by going out with Brian you’re actually breaking away from tradition. For you, that is.’

  Clara’s eyes lit up. ‘I hadn’t looked at it like that.’

  ‘And he’s probably doing the same. I bet he hasn’t gone out with anyone like you before.’ In fact, Miriam could guarantee it. And that without meeting the man.

  Clara grinned. ‘You’d better believe it. His last girlfriend was the tweeds-and-pearls type and had an “honourable” before her name.’

  Miriam found she couldn’t wait to see this Brian.

  By the time Clara left after several cups of coffee and a plate of toast it was ten-thirty. Miriam just had time to change into smart black trousers and a bubblegum-pink top and do her make-up before the buzzer told her Jay had arrived.

  She found her heart was racing as she hurried down the stairs and stopped abruptly. Taking several deep, calming breaths, she then proceeded at a more sedate pace and, once in the hall, walked steadily to the front door. When she opened it Jay was standing on the pavement talking to a tall young man with a short, neat haircut and spectacles and very polished shoes.

  Jay’s face was absolutely deadpan when he looked at her. ‘This is Brian Mason—he’s here to see Clara.’

  His careful lack of expression told Miriam he found the situation hilarious. Miriam ignored the wicked glitter in his eyes and directed her gaze at Brian. Smiling, she said, ‘Hi, I’m Miriam, Clara’s friend from the top floor. Is she expecting you?’

  Brian smiled at her, revealing pearly white teeth and dimples. Miriam could immediately see what had captured Clara. There was something terribly ingenuous about that smile; not naive exactly, more honest and sincere.

  ‘I said I’d pop round at some point today,’ said Brian, nervously adjusting his scarf more securely into the lapels of his overcoat, ‘but if it’s not convenient…’

  ‘I’m sure she’s in. Wait just a minute and I’ll check.’ Miriam left the pair of them and darted across the hall, knocking on Clara’s front door.

  When her friend opened it she was still in her nightie and bathrobe. ‘Brian’s on the doorstep.’ Miriam gestured behind her. ‘He’s talking to Jay.’

  ‘Brian?’ Clara was suddenly all of a dither, which was a first. ‘But I haven’t done my hair or anything.’

  ‘You look lovely,’ Miriam said with sincerity. In fact, she thought Clara au naturel, with her face free from layers of make-up and her hair softly framing her sweet face, might test Brian’s vow of celibacy to the limit, even without the added titillation of the black nightie. ‘Shall I tell him to come in?’

  Clara nodded, still flustered. ‘The place is a mess.’

  ‘When isn’t your place a mess?’

  ‘True, but Brian’s so tidy. You only have to see his desk at work to know that.’

  ‘And I bet your desk is like the bedsit, so don’t worry. It’s you he likes or he wouldn’t be here.’

  Outside the two men were chatting away quite easily when Miriam called Brian to say Clara was at home, and once she was sitting beside Jay in the car she asked curiously, ‘What were you and Brian talking about?’

  Jay leant across and kissed her soundly. ‘First things first,’ he murmured softly. ‘Good morning, Mrs Carter.’

  Miriam’s heart quickened, her senses instantly alight. The kiss hadn’t been overtly sensual but his words were like a warm, intimate stroking of her whole being. Shakily, she responded, ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Carter,’ he corrected with a lazy smile, his eyes dancing as they mocked her pink confusion. ‘I’m your husband, remember?’

  ‘Isn’t that rather a formal way to talk to your husband?’ Miriam managed with a brave attempt at nonchalance.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed immediately. ‘If it’s intimacy you’re looking for—’

  ‘I’m not,’ she cut him off quickly.

  ‘Of course, what I’d like to begin the day is the feel of your body beneath mine,’ he continued as though she hadn’t spoken, his voice slow and deep. ‘Naked, silky, warm. I’d like to look at you, kiss you all over, feel you shudder and sigh and breathe my name as I make love to you. I’d like to touch and caress you and bring you to fever-pitch, make your flesh quiver and tremble. Remember how it used to be, Miriam? You used to make me as hard as a rock when you quivered beneath my tongue and hands.’

  ‘Don’t.’ It was a whisper.

  ‘And when we’d sated each other’s needs we’d lie joined together and kiss and talk until we did it all over again,’ he went on relentlessly. ‘Because we weren’t just sexual partners, Miriam. We were one. Joined in every way. Until you came into my life I had slept with women, never loved them. There’s a difference.’

  She wanted to tell him to stop, that he was being unfair, but she couldn’t utter a sound. In Jay’s eyes there was no mockery, no teasing, only a deep, unnerving tenderness. And against such she had no defence.

  He moved away slightly but still kept his hand against the side of her face, his fingers playing with the soft, silky fall of her hair as though he couldn’t quite break contact with her. ‘Are you beginning to search yourself?’ he asked quietly, his eyes still on her face. ‘Or are you still hiding from the past?’

  ‘I—I don’t know what you mean.’ She couldn’t do this. Not here, not now.

  He observed her in silence, waiting. After a long few moments he sighed. ‘I love you. I’ve always loved you. And loving you means being faithful in my book. When I took my vows it wasn’t on a whim, Miriam. We weren’t two young kids. I knew from the first date that you weren’t the sort of woman to just have fun with for a while, that it would be all or nothing. And I chose all.’

  Her throat was locked and she was incapable of speaking. She met his gaze in numb despair. She wanted to believe him. If it was just a matter of wanting she would throw herself into his arms and tell him exactly what he wanted to hear. But it would be a lie.

  His lips caressed hers. After a moment he said softly, ‘I don’t know what else to say.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I—I don’t want you to say anything.’

  The sky had clouded over in the last hour and now the first drops of sleety rai
n splattered against the windscreen. She felt cold. Inside and out, she felt cold. Helplessly she clenched her hands into fists. ‘It would have been better for both of us if we hadn’t seen each other again,’ she whispered miserably. ‘This is just dragging out the inevitable.’

  ‘The only inevitable I’m prepared to consider is you in my arms where you belong, and this time for good.’ He drew back into his seat, starting the engine. ‘And however painful the process for us to get there, so be it.’

  For a fleeting moment she wondered what it must be like to be so completely sure of yourself. She had never been that way, ever. ‘And if we don’t? Get there, I mean.’

  ‘We will,’ Jay said with infuriating calmness as the windscreen wipers battled with lumps of ice and he drew away from the house. ‘You’re mine and I don’t let go of what’s mine.’

  Suddenly Miriam was angry. ‘Like your car or the business or the apartment, you mean?’

  A muscle twitched in Jay’s jaw. ‘I’m not going to grace that question with an answer.’

  ‘Because the truth might incriminate you?’ she retorted.

  ‘Because it’s not worthy of a reply.’

  Miriam opened her mouth to argue further but something in the set of Jay’s hard face warned her she’d pushed him as far as she could. He looked like thunder, she thought shakily. She didn’t think she had ever seen him quite so furious.

  It was a full ten minutes later, a ten minutes fraught with electricity, before she said in a small voice, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re having a culture day.’ He glanced at her briefly. ‘The National Gallery opens at noon and after that we’ll take a late lunch. There’s a craft gallery that stays open late on a Sunday I’d like you to see, and we’re eating Italian tonight. OK?’

  Nothing was OK. He must know that. Her silence was an unspoken answer.

  ‘I can’t recall you being so grumpy in the past,’ Jay observed mildly. ‘You used to laugh all the time.’