The Marriage Merger

by Liz Fielding

  ‘And yet you’d still give it up for me?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d give it up for you. I’d give you anything…’

  ‘I know. I heard. But all I want is you. As for the store—why don’t we leave it for India and Jordan to sort it out between them?’ He swung his legs over the bed and stood up. ‘We’ve got more important things to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ she whispered.

  ‘First we’ll take that shower,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll make a start on “anything”…’

  For all her bravado, Flora was trembling as she stepped into the shower with Bram, as the warm water sluiced over them both. This was new for her. A partnership of equals. Something she hadn’t ever expected, hadn’t ever believed possible.

  ‘Would you like me to wash you?’ she murmured.

  He said nothing, just handed her a sponge, drizzled shower gel into it. Mouth dry, she began at his neck, washing him gently, carefully, kissing each of the bruises he’d sustained as he’d taken the rubble that should have fallen on her. Washing every bit of him. And then he took the sponge and did the same for her, not stopping even when her nipples tempted him and her skin flushed with obvious desire.

  When his arousal became magnificently obvious.

  ‘Bram.’ She murmured his name, but still he took his time.

  ‘There’s no rush, my princess. We’ve got all the time in the world. The rest of our lives.’

  ‘Time for something special?’

  ‘Time for everything you ever wanted.’

  She turned off the water, plucked a towel from the rack and, wrapping it around him, led him back to the bedroom.

  She’d brought a huge wicker chair in from the living room to sit in and watch over him, but she led him past it, back to the bed. ‘Sit there. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.’

  ‘Flora…’

  ‘Shut,’ she insisted, suddenly brilliantly confident. And Bram obeyed. His reward was the briefest touch of her lips against his, the soft teasing brush of her breasts against his chest. ‘Keep them shut,’ she repeated. ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  He heard her move away, her bare feet making no sound on the polished wood, and yet he knew he was alone. But he kept his word. And after a while he heard tiny noises. Tinkling, jingling noises. The soft squeak of the wicker as she sat down.

  ‘Now you can open them.’

  He’d known instinctively what she was doing, and yet the vision she presented was beyond imagining and for a moment he could not speak.

  The diadem was on her head, just as it had been in the vault, the moment before the tremor. Her hair hung forward in tiny damp rippling waves over her naked breasts. Between them was a jade medallion set amidst row upon row of pearls.

  Her arms were wound with gold and there were bangles at her ankles.

  For a moment he couldn’t speak. When he could he said, ‘Promise me that the entire Saramindan police department isn’t about to burst in here and arrest you.’

  ‘They’re copies, Bram. Tipi had already had them made for display in the tomb, when it’s open to the public. I’m taking them back to London to put on display in the store.’

  ‘You won’t be wearing them?’

  ‘No. This is a private show. One time only. Just for you.’

  ‘I was right. You are my princess,’ he said hoarsely. ‘My Queen.’ And he felt like a king as he took her hands and held her. Kissed her. Made her his.

  The Royal Samarindan Botanical Gardens were alive with butterflies, the trees draped with wild orchids as Flora Claibourne and Bram Gifford made their marriage vows, quietly and without fuss.

  ‘You’re right about that look,’ Bram said, as they toasted one another in champagne and cut the cake baked by Tipi Myan’s wife while Tipi took photographs.

  She was wearing deep blue and silver. Her jacket was made from the finest Saramindan cloth, her softly pleated trousers in fine billowing silk. They matched the dark blue polish on her finger and toenails. She’d been right about the high-heeled strappy sandals, too. And the earrings, made by a local craftswoman, were their names entwined in Saramindan script.

  ‘It’s going to be a hit.’

  ‘There’s only one problem left. How to tell Jordan and India that we’ve…um…merged,’ Flora said.

  ‘That’s not a problem.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No,’ Bram said. ‘Why bother them? They’ve both got far more important things on their minds.’

  They exchanged a conspiratorial glance.

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Jordan will start shadowing India in a day or two. And by the time we get back from our honeymoon it’ll all be over.’

  ‘We’re going on honeymoon? It seems to me that we’ve been on honeymoon for weeks. I’ll definitely be recommending Saraminda to the tourist department.’

  ‘Honeymoon? My darling this wasn’t a honeymoon. I’ve been shadowing you. Very closely. This was work.’

  Flora laughed. ‘I didn’t realise how much I enjoyed being a director of Claibourne & Farraday. If Jordan wins, I shall hate having to give it up.’

  ‘Then you have my word that you won’t have to. You are a Farraday now…as well as a Claibourne. My name and my place on the board are my wedding gift to you.’

  ‘That’s an extraordinary wedding present.’

  ‘You’re an extraordinary woman. Believe me, they come with my heart, body and soul.’ He paused beneath a sweetly scented trail of vanilla orchids to kiss her. ‘Till death us do part.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7679-0

  THE MARRIAGE MERGER

  First North American Publication 2002.

  Copyright © 2002 by Liz Fielding.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Visit us at www.eHarlequin.com