The Australian's Marriage Demand

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, hoping it was true.

  ‘I don’t have any nasty diseases, if that’s what’s bothering you,’ he added when he saw her frown forming.

  ‘The thought never crossed my mind.’

  He traced the line of her mouth with one lazy finger.

  ‘You should mind,’ he said. ‘Encounters like this could change your life in a second.’

  She wanted to tell him it had changed her life permanently, but bit back the words.

  ‘I’m sure I’ll live to tell the tale.’

  He hunted her face for a few moments, as if he could see behind her miserable attempt at humour and was going to call her to account. But after a while he simply dropped another swift kiss on to the tip of her nose and slid back down beside her, gathering her back into his warm embrace.

  ‘Let’s get some sleep.’ His voice was a soft burr in her ear.

  She shut her eyes and concentrated on listening to the sound of the fire. After a few minutes Connor’s even breathing informed her he had drifted off to sleep. She laid her head on his chest and breathed in the scent of his skin and wondered if he’d still be there in her arms in the morning.

  Jasmine woke up alone but she could hear the sounds of Connor moving about the house. She rolled on to her other side and listened to the chorus of birds outside the bay windows, their cheery song failing to lift her spirits at all.

  She dragged herself from the warmth of the makeshift bed, her body protesting inside and out at the movement. She hunted for some clothes but only found Connor’s bathrobe. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and, stepping over the disarray of the sofa cushions, made her way to the bathroom.

  Her mood hadn’t lifted even after her shower. With the morning had come the recriminations from her behaviour the night before. She scowled at herself in the steamed up mirror, hating herself for having capitulated so readily. A couple of glasses of wine and she was anybody’s—and not just anybody’s, but Connor Harrowsmith’s, one of the biggest playboys of all time. It didn’t salve her conscience one iota to remind herself she was in love with him and had every right to express that physically. Somehow it made it so much worse. It wasn’t as if she could come right out and say, ‘By the way, I really love you in spite of the bizarre circumstances surrounding our marriage’. She’d look a fool and no doubt his response would be to laugh or, even worse, smile one of those mocking smiles.

  She tossed her towel to the floor on top of Connor’s with a spurt of defiance. Let him pick them up, she wasn’t going to be running around after him like some downtrodden housewife while he went off and charmed the birds from the trees, the office, nightclub or wherever he found his latest conquests.

  She found him in the back garden, hanging out the bed linen from the master bedroom she’d refused to sleep in. He turned to look her way, even though she was absolutely sure she’d made no sound. She wondered if he had a sixth sense where she was concerned, or whether he could read her mind.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, ducking under the clothes line.

  ‘I’m sore,’ she said bluntly, forcing herself to look him in the eyes.

  His small smile had a trace of apology about it.

  ‘If you had been straight with me about your level of experience perhaps I would’ve compensated a little more.’

  ‘I wasn’t exactly a virgin.’

  ‘No, perhaps not technically, but you’re hardly a seasoned tart though, are you?’

  ‘I am now.’

  He frowned heavily. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  She scowled at him darkly. ‘What number am I on your bedpost, Connor? Do you keep a running record?’

  He stood looking at her assessingly, his continued silence intimidating her into further reckless speech.

  ‘Or maybe you have a little black book in which you write all the details, such as how enjoyable it was for you, whether you’d like to continue the relationship or not, or whether she was fat or thin or had big boobs or—’

  ‘If this attack is expressly aimed at alleviating some of your own guilt over your responses to me, then stop right now.’

  His terse words brought her head up straight.

  ‘My guilt?’ she threw at him incredulously. ‘What about yours?’

  ‘I did nothing you didn’t want me to do.’

  ‘Yes, you did. I told you I didn’t want to sleep with you and you took advantage of my…of the fact that I’d had a couple of drinks and wasn’t thinking clearly.’

  His jaw tightened, which should have warned her to drop it right there, but her fighting spirit and her pride had already combined forces.

  ‘I despise men like you; your selfishness knows no bounds. It’s all about getting laid at whatever cost, even marriage in your case.’

  ‘I think you’ve said quite enough, Jasmine.’ His tone was steely. ‘I can see you’re having second thoughts about last night but don’t make me your scapegoat. You came to me quite willingly and I did what any normal man would do under the circumstances.’

  ‘I want to go home right now!’ she said. ‘I don’t want to stay another minute here with you.’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’ His tone was impatient. ‘If we go back to the city after less than twenty-four hours it will cause the sort of speculation neither of us need right now.’

  ‘I’d rather face the press than spend another night in your arms.’

  ‘We both know that isn’t true.’ His dark eyes held hers challengingly, daring her to contradict him.

  She glared back at him rebelliously.

  ‘Why did you bring me here? Why not a decent hotel instead of this rat-infested place?’

  ‘I got rid of the rats last week and, as for the cobwebs, I was going to do that this afternoon.’

  Jasmine gaped at him speechlessly.

  ‘I know it’s not exactly The Ritz, but with a little attention it could be made very comfortable. Anyway, no one but us knows about this place so, for a few days at least, we’re safe,’ he continued calmly.

  She found her tongue at last. ‘There were rats here last week?’ She couldn’t help a tiny shudder and a furtive glance around her feet.

  ‘Not many.’

  ‘H…how many?’ her eyes were wide with fear.

  ‘You don’t like rats?’

  ‘Give me a snake any day.’ She gave another shudder.

  Connor smiled and picked up the clothes basket.

  ‘Come on, let’s have some breakfast before we go down to the beach.’

  Jasmine found herself following him into the house despite her earlier determination to avoid him at all costs. Her eyes darted about the kitchen as he filled the kettle with water, fully expecting tiny black eyes to be staring from between the gaps in the skirting boards, waiting for their chance to flash past under her feet.

  Connor handed her a cup but it slipped from her grasp and landed at his feet in a myriad of pieces.

  He gave her a wry look.

  ‘You’re really on edge, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ She paid no attention to his comment as she went to get the dustpan and broom she’d used the night before.

  It was unfortunate she hadn’t put it away properly for when she opened the broom cupboard door the small brush with its grey-black bristles dropped near her foot.

  Her scream filled every corner of the room. Connor swung around to find her on the table, her face a ghostly white, her limbs trembling like the autumn leaves outside.

  ‘Hey there, sweetheart.’ His tone was instantly placating as he reached up a hand to her. ‘Did the big bad old brush give you a terrible fright?’

  She glowered down at him, ignoring his hand.

  ‘Don’t you dare laugh at me, just don’t you dare.’

  He held up his hands in a gesture of complete innocence.

  ‘Now would I do that?’

  ‘Yes, you would.’

  He gave a mock pout.

&nbs
p; ‘I’m hurt, crushed in fact, that you think so poorly of me.’

  She clambered down from the table and stood fuming in front of him.

  ‘You are one of the most annoying men I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet, do you know that?’

  He gave her a sweeping bow.

  ‘At your service, ma’am.’

  She flung herself away and stomped out of the kitchen without a backward glance, all her appetite for breakfast completely gone.

  She found her clothes in the upstairs bedroom, where she saw Connor had stripped the bed and opened all the windows to air the room. She dressed in track pants and top, relieved that she didn’t sneeze once. Making her way back downstairs, she left the house through a side door so she didn’t run into him.

  Only when she was finally on the beach did she start to relax enough to gather her thoughts. She walked along the water’s edge, the swell hissing and retreating at her feet, the crunch of shells like percussion in her ears. Two gulls soared above her head and then, catching an up-draught of air, flew off to the cliff face once more.

  The slight breeze was chilly but refreshing as she walked towards the first group of rock pools about two kilometres away in the distance. When she got there she bent down to inspect the contents of the biggest pools, dangling her fingers in the slightly warmer water where the morning sun had lingered. Two purple anemones, their white spines close to their round bodies, lay undisturbed amongst the bright green seaweed.

  She sat on the bump of a rock and stared out to sea. The rolling waves were soothing as they crashed against the shore, every fifth or sixth one spilling over the rock pools before draining away once more.

  It was a noisy peace. The harsh cries of gulls and the roar of the sea, combined with the deepening breathing of the wind, made her sigh with tentative pleasure. Her paradise was not the same with Connor there to invade her sense of peace. He made her feel edgy and on guard, especially now as he’d broken down another barrier to brand her as his.

  She knew she was being unreasonable towards him, blaming him for what after all was her own fault. She’d practically thrown herself at him, subconsciously at least, when she’d gone to have it out with him over the sleeping arrangements. A tiny part of her mind had to admit the risks she’d been taking in going back to confront him, but she’d ignored those warnings to rush headlong into a situation that would in the end only hurt her.

  He was invincible. His heart was whole and untouched while hers was now his and very likely to be destroyed.

  She took shelter from the wind in a sea cave she’d found on one of her walks previously. It was tucked into the cliff face, its steep access making it almost invisible from the beach.

  She sat on the rocky ledge and listened to the roar of the sea below, lifting her face every now and again to catch the fine mist of sea spray in the air. She brushed at her eyes once or twice, refusing to give in to the desire to cry. She hadn’t cried in years and had no intention of resurrecting the habit, no matter how vulnerable Connor made her feel.

  The wind had died down when she left the cave a long time later. She retraced her steps along the sand, her head down, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other in the steps she’d trod earlier, not wanting to disturb the long stretch of sand any more than she had. She managed to get to the first rock pool without a step out of place but when she came off the rocks to retrace her earlier footsteps she saw that her small ones had been crushed by a much larger foot.

  She spun around and saw the culprit bending down over one of the rock pools to her right. She hadn’t seen him before as her head had been down, retracing her steps, but she knew before he stood up to his full height it was Connor.

  She considered pretending she hadn’t seen him but before she could escape he turned and faced her. She waited until he skirted around the rock pools to get to her, his steps unhurried, but she could tell from the tight look about his mouth he was annoyed with her.

  She straightened her spine as he closed the distance.

  ‘You’ve been gone over three hours.’ His tone was curt.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So you should tell me where you’re going.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  He clenched his teeth. ‘Because it’s polite to tell people where you’re going, that’s why.’

  ‘It’s no one’s business where I go.’

  ‘As much as it pains me to disagree with you, I’m afraid it is very much my business.’

  ‘You take your responsibilities as a husband a little too far, as I told you earlier.’ Sarcasm laced her tone.

  His eyes ran over her, taking in her wind-blown hair and reddened eyes.

  ‘Have you been crying?’ he asked, his tone gentled.

  ‘Of course not.’ She spun away to walk back to the cliff path. ‘I got sand in my eyes. It was windy earlier.’

  He seemed satisfied with her answer and adjusted his stride to hers as they traversed the rest of the beach to the path.

  ‘You must be starving,’ he said after a few minutes. ‘You didn’t have breakfast and its way past lunch.’

  ‘It won’t hurt me; I need to lose some weight anyway.’

  ‘As it is, you look as if a gust of wind would blow you over,’ he observed.

  ‘I’m sure you’re used to the very best in female figures,’ she said with a trace of bitterness. ‘Sorry to disappoint you.’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He gave her a sideways smile.

  ‘If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were just a tiny bit jealous.’

  She stopped at the base of the cliff path and faced him.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t feel anything towards you except dislike.’

  ‘That’s not the message I was getting last night.’

  ‘I was not myself last night.’

  ‘Ah yes, last night was an aberration never to be repeated, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly right.’

  He gestured for her to precede him on the cliff path. ‘You go first; I’ll be here in case you fall.’

  ‘You go first,’ she insisted. ‘I’m not going to fall.’

  He shrugged his shoulders and leapt up the path like a mountain goat, leaving her to clamber up by herself a little more circumspectly. He was waiting for her at the top, his expression showing signs of amusement as she joined him.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked irritably.

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you hide behind anger to cover other more dangerous emotions.’

  She made to brush past him. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  His arm caught hers on the way past and he turned her to face him. She schooled her features into resentful defiance but she knew the sheen of fresh tears was in her eyes.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he said. ‘Whenever anyone gets within touching distance you put up a great wall of anger to warn them off. That’s why you’re so cross with me about last night because you let your guard slip, but it’s not really me you’re angry with, is it, Jasmine?’

  She averted her gaze and aimed it at a point to the left of his broad shoulder.

  ‘Strange as it may seem, I am actually angry with you. I suppose it’s a kind of novelty for you to have a woman tell you that but it’s true.’

  ‘Look me in the eyes and say that,’ he challenged her.

  She locked eyes with his. ‘I’m angry with you, Connor.’

  Somehow the way she said his name took away from the conviction of her other words; it came out huskily, like a caress, instead of sharply and implacably as she’d intended.

  His wry smile was back in place.

  ‘I like you being angry with me,’ he said.

  She blinked up at him in confusion. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it shows you feel something towards me.’

  ‘I don’t feel—’

&nbs
p; His fingers gently pinched her two lips together, halting her speech.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said as softly as the breeze moving through her hair. ‘You keep on being angry with me. In fact, you should be furious with me, speechless with rage.’

  He let go of her lips in time for her to ask somewhat ironically, ‘Why?’

  He bent his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply before responding.

  ‘Is that a good enough reason?’

  She opened and closed her throbbing mouth, uncertain of how to respond.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then,’ he said and, before she could reply, he disappeared along the path, leaving her to stand staring at the space he’d vacated.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JASMINE took the long way back to the old house.

  She knew it was being cowardly but she couldn’t help thinking that Connor had manipulated her into confessing something she hadn’t wanted to confess. She replayed the conversation in her head and had to concede that he was a master at playing conversational games, cutting her off at every pass, anticipating her every move as if he were able to see through the tangle of her thoughts.

  She entered the house the same way she’d exited it and, listening out for sounds of his presence, made her way cautiously to the kitchen for something to ease the gnaw of hunger in her stomach.

  She’d not long finished a tomato sandwich when he came in, brandishing a long-handled broom.

  ‘I’ve finished the cobwebs but I was wondering if you’d give me a hand in the study.’

  She looked at him warily.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘I promise you—no rats, spiders or snakes, just a whole heap of books.’

  ‘Books?’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’m not a classics fan but even I can see value in some of those titles. Some of them look like they might be first editions.’

  He’d won her without a fight. Books were her passion and old ones in particular.

  ‘All right.’ She got to her feet, noting the tiny gleam of victory in his dark eyes. She felt as if she’d been cleverly manipulated again but for the life of her couldn’t imagine what he’d be up to this time.

  She followed him down the dark hall and tried not to let her eyes wander to the cracks in the skirting boards nor flinch at the creak of old floorboards.