by Penny Jordan
‘Yes, of course,’ Julia agreed immediately.
‘So, then, we are both agreed that for his sake there is nothing we can do other than to accept that we are now “engaged”.’
Julia swallowed—hard. ‘But ultimately...’
‘Ultimately a solution will have to be found,’ Silas agreed calmly. ‘Either by us or perhaps by life itself.’
Julia looked at him. ‘You mean that Gramps might...that he may not... I know his heart isn’t very strong, but—’
Before she could continue, the door to the courtyard opened and Dorland hurried in.
‘I suppose you’ve heard about those wretched diamonds? How on earth can they be lost? Martina swears she remembers taking them off and putting them back in their case, and asking someone to give them to the bloody security guard-who I paid a small fortune to do nothing other than watch over them. He says he never got them, Martina can’t remember who she gave them to, and she screams every time I try to get her to remember. And George—would you believe it?—was shagging one of the waitresses when Martina took them off. I’ve got Tiffany on the phone every five minutes, demanding that I pay them a million dollars for their necklace. Thank goodness I managed to persuade the Beast to pay for an exclusive account of how George was discovered in flagrante, the very night he had reaffirmed his marriage vows. You should see the photograph they’ve done—George and this girl, naked apart from a diamond necklace.’
‘The Beast?’ Silas questioned.
‘Dorland’s pet name for a certain red-top daily,’ Julia explained.
‘My little joke, Silas.’ Dorland beamed. ‘The editor, the dearest boy, has a fondness for dressing up as King Kong, as part of his mating ritual.’
‘Dorland, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,’ Julia informed him grimly.
‘Oh?’
‘My mother’s daily showed her an article in A-List Life with photographs of me and Silas and the information that—’
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I just couldn’t resist.’ Dorland stopped her, looking more smug than repentant. ‘It was such a tempting tidbit. Fortunately the photographs I told the guys to take of the two of you turned out well, and I told Murray to make room for them. I thought up the headline myself. “Keeping it in the Family.” Then it said, “My spies tell me that one of A-List’s favourite party girls is soon to be planning a wedding. And guess who to? Her grandfather, the Earl of Amberley, is bound to be pleased, since her husband-to-be is also his heir, the American billionaire Silas Cabot Carter.” You’ll be getting married at Amberley of course?’ he continued, unconsciously echoing Julia’s mother.
‘Of course,’ Silas agreed smoothly. ‘But not yet. I haven’t forgotten my promise to Lucy.’ Really, Silas reflected inwardly, things couldn’t have begun to work out better if he had planned them this way himself.
‘Jules, I’ve been thinking—the fireworks. Do you really think it’s a good idea to colour-co-ordinate them?’ Dorland demanded, having obviously lost interest in their ‘engagement’.
‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ Julia assured him, well aware how much it would cost if she were to instruct the firework suppliers to change the order she had already given them.
* * *
‘Lucy, I know you’re about to leave, but have you got a minute?’
‘Of course. Nick’s gone down with our stuff to wait for the taxi.’
She hated doing this, Julia thought. No way did she want to lie to her best friend, but with her grandfather having sent off a notice of her supposed engagement to The Times, Lucy was bound to wonder why on earth she hadn’t said something.
‘Silas and I are getting engaged.’
‘Jules!’ Immediately Lucy threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely, her face alight with happiness. ‘Oh, I am so pleased for you. You’re perfect for one another. Oh, Jules, how exciting—and you never said a word...’
‘It’s all been very sudden,’ Julia told her uncomfortably. Well, that much at least was true.
Despite the fact that her friend was obviously happy with the news, Lucy looked weary.
‘You’re happy, aren’t you, Lucy?’ Julia demanded abruptly. ‘I mean, with Nick?’
‘Of course I am,’ Lucy told her immediately. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
* * *
‘A word with you, if you please, Blayne,’ Silas demanded quietly.
This was the first time he had managed to catch Nick on his own following Julia’s revelations.
Nick shrugged. ‘Sure. How can I help?’
Silas studied him assessingly. Was it only another man who could see that the too-handsome face hinted at weakness?
‘You’re walking a very precarious line right now, and whilst your marriage is not my concern, Julia’s well-being is.’
‘You’re warning me off?’ Nick asked lightly, smiling. He gave another small shrug. ‘Jules has a very passionate nature. She’s never made any secret of the fact that she has a bit of a thing for me—’
‘Really? And what do you have a thing for, Blayne? Apart from assaulting women, of course.’
An angry red tide of colour had begun to seep up under Nick’s tan.
‘I don’t know what she told you, but she was—’
‘Trying to tell you that she wasn’t interested in having sex with you. Let me give you a friendly warning. You’ve been lucky. You married Lucy. Don’t push that luck too far, otherwise you could very easily find yourself unmarried to her. Right now she’s all that’s stopping me from turning your life inside out. You’re scum—you know that, and I know that. So, in case you want what we both know to become public knowledge, I suggest that in future you remember what a very lucky man you are.’
‘It’s all very well for you, standing there all high and mighty with your billions of dollars behind you,’ Nick burst out savagely. ‘You don’t even begin to know what the real world is all about. If you did—’
‘If I did, I still wouldn’t use a woman to satisfy my own needs if that wasn’t what she wanted. Money has nothing to do with morals, Blayne. We’ve all got freedom of choice.’
‘Bastard,’ Silas heard Nick mutter venomously as he walked away from him. But the sudden compression of his mouth into a hard line wasn’t caused by Nick’s aggression.
He had claimed a moral superiority over Blayne, and it was true that he would never physically abuse or force a woman in any kind of way, but according to his mother in planning to marry Julia he was using her.
‘A marriage between us will benefit her as much as it will me,’ he had told her.
‘Only if she shares your thinking, Silas, and I have to say that I don’t think she will. You claim to be a practical man who has no desire for a marriage based on love. I doubt that Julia will share that point of view.’
Silas stopped himself. This was hardly the best time for him to start indulging in a guilt trip over Julia’s feelings.
Any practical person would agree with him that a marriage between them would be extremely beneficial to both of them. In and out of bed. He considered himself to be an aware and fair lover, and Julia hadn’t flirted with him earlier on because she didn’t want to have sex with him, had she? There was no reason why they shouldn’t share a mutually very satisfying sex life. If they did, then he was certainly prepared to remain a faithful husband, and he felt confident that he could keep Julia satisfied enough not to want to stray herself. Their marriage would certainly have a far
stronger foundation than one based on ‘romantic love’. One only had to look at the tragedy of Lucy’s marriage to Blayne to know that.
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE were undeniably some advantages to her ‘engagement’ to Silas, Julia reflected as their chauffeur-driven limousine swept them down toward Positano, and first-class travel had to be at the top of the list.
Julia knew that many people found Silas dauntingly formidable. His unemotional practicality had certainly irked her over the years, but there were times when a practical man was a bonus and this was definitely one of them. She considered herself to be a modern, independent woman, but she had certainly enjoyed having nothing to do other than sit back and relax and admire the awe-inspiring Amalfi coastline.
Silas, predictably, had been working, his BlackBerry handheld PDA device in constant use as he phoned and e-mailed, while the chauffeur with true Italian élan and a breathtakingly macho disregard for the coaches lumbering the other way.
‘Relax,’ Silas had murmured at one point, when she had audibly drawn in her breath, sure that they would go over the cliff. ‘He knows he won’t get a tip if we don’t survive.’
It had astonished her that he had noticed her apprehension. He certainly hadn’t been looking at her. She knew that, because every time she had looked at him he had been totally focused on e-mailing.
What would it take to shake Silas out of that cool, distancing manner of his and into the heat of raw human passion...or rather who would it take? She would certainly need to be a very strong woman, and a very determined one. What would he be like as a lover? Experienced, certainly, and knowledgeable about what pleased a woman for sure. Silas set high standards for himself, and his skills. And a woman would be able to trust him to take care of everything there was to be taken care of. Silas would have a clean bill of health and an awareness of what could be safely risked and what could not. He would take due care to make sure that his lover experienced the maximum amount of pleasure without inflicting on her any kind of pain.
Physically, perhaps, but what about emotionally? Was Silas, with his cool distance from the rest of the human race and their untidy emotions, capable of understanding what it meant to be hurt emotionally?
‘I’ve e-mailed your grandfather, apologising for not asking his formal permission for our engagement. I told him that your impetuosity overwhelmed us.’
‘My impetuosity?’ Julia challenged him.
Silas smiled at her.
‘Well, he would hardly be likely to believe me if I said it was mine, would he?’ I’ve also e-mailed my mother, and the New York society columns.’
‘Have you told her that my impetuosity is to blame as well?’ Julia asked wryly.
‘My mother doesn’t need an explanation.’
Whilst Julia was silently digesting his comment, Silas added, ‘You’re going to need an engagement ring, but, I’ve suggested to your grandfather we wait until you can return to New York with me.’
‘Silas, I don’t want a ring.’
She might just as well not have spoken.
‘It seems appropriate to me that you should wear the Monckford diamond.’
‘What?’ Julia stared at him. ‘You mean the one the Sixth Earl fought that duel over?’
‘Actually, it was his wife’s honour over which he fought the duel, but since it was the fact that she was foolish enough to be wearing the ring when she went to meet her lover, yes, I do mean that one. Traditionally it was the family betrothal ring, so it seems fitting that you should wear it now.’
Julia took refuge from her own chaotic thoughts by saying crossly, ‘I thought you were supposed to run the Foundation, not spend your time trying to repossess every bauble the family ever owned.’
‘The Monckford Diamond is hardly a bauble. In fact, it is an extremely rare and historic stone.’
‘Thank heavens I don’t have to wear it permanently. If it looks anything like it does in the Countess’s portrait, it must be incredibly ugly,’ Julia could not resist saying disparagingly.
Silas had always incited her to this kind of angry tit for tat, as though somehow they both had to try and outdo one another. But, no matter how much she goaded him, Silas never reacted with a satisfactory show of emotion.
They had reached Positano, its rows of pastel-washed buildings clinging to the steep hillside whilst the Mediterranean lay blue and calm below them.
No wonder artists and poets had fallen in love with this place, Julia reflected as she gazed out of the car widow in silent appreciation. And no wonder too that the Silverwoods had wanted to come here, to the place where they had first met, to celebrate two such special family events.
As regular visitors to Positano, the Silverwoods had a favourite hotel where they always stayed, and Julia had managed, after some incredibly difficult negotiations, to ensure that they would have the exclusive use of a private dining room there, that opened out onto a terrace overlooking the sea, for the celebratory meal. Not unnaturally, the manager of the hotel had demanded a large fee for the use of both dining room and patio, at what was virtually the height of the summer season.
Privately Julia was not sure she would have chosen such an exclusive and expensive venue for the celebration of an eighteenth birthday, and during initial discussions she had recognised that the Silverwoods’ teenage son was not as excited about the prospect of the double celebration as his parents. Diplomatically she had suggested to her clients that they might think about throwing a more robust type of event exclusively for their son, so that he could celebrate his coming of age with his friends.
The car turned in to the entrance to the Arcadia hotel, past the discreet plaque that bore the legend ‘Leading Hotels of the World’. She already knew that the Arcadia had been built in the eighteenth century as a private villa, and had been opened as a hotel in the early 1950s. Its rooms were apparently still furnished as though it were a private home, with carefully chosen antiques and objets d’art, and certainly the reception area bore out this description.
They were shown almost immediately to their suite, and Julia caught her breath as she saw the views from the windows. The hotel must surely command some of the best views in Positano, Julia decided as Silas tipped the porter.
‘This is heavenly,’ she murmured appreciatively, unable to take her eyes off the sparkling blue of the Mediterranean.
‘What’s the plan of action for tomorrow?’ Silas asked, merely glancing briefly at the view as he reached for his BlackBerry.
‘The family will have already arrived today, and by tonight so will most of the guests. For tomorrow, we’ve organised the hire of a private yacht that will take everyone to Capri, where they will have lunch. Then tomorrow evening there will be a champagne reception at the hotel. Some of the guests won’t make it in time for the Capri trip, so the following day those who wish to do so can go to Amalfi. For those who don’t, a buffet lunch will be provided at the hotel, with the main event—the formal dinner—taking place that evening.’
‘And that’s it?’ Silas asked her.
‘That’s it,’ Julia agreed, straight-faced. ‘Except, of course, for the flowers, and the hairdresser, and the food, and of course the wine, plus getting the presents here, et cetera, et cetera.’
He had put down his BlackBerry and come to study the view. There wasn’t very much room on the small balcony, which meant that he had to stand behind her, so close that she could feel the heat coming off his body.
‘I think tonight we’ll dispense with the separate sleeping arrangements.’
‘What?’ Julia started to turn round and then stopped as she realised that turning round would bring her body to body with him.
‘This really is a wonderful view,’ she blurted out in panic.
‘Wonderful,’ Silas agreed kindly.
He had put h
is arm around her—both arms, in fact, Julia discovered.
‘I don’t think this is a very good idea,’ she warned him in a wobbly voice.
‘No? Are you sure?’
His mouth was brushing hers. How could such a cool and remote man have such a warm and sensual mouth? Like fire under ice, or her favourite dessert, hot sauce on cold ice cream. Mmm, delicious... Just like the feel of Silas’s mouth on her own, in fact. Mmm.
As she sighed her appreciation of his kiss, she moved closer to him and put her own arms around his neck.
His tongue probed her lips, slowly but oh, so deliberately, letting her know that he would not stop until she had given him what he wanted. Her body shivered with pleasure as she let him thrust firmly between her half-parted lips. Oh, but he was good. Or was it just that it was just so long since she had last been kissed? Her whole body had become the ice cream now, melting in the heat of the deliberately slow and sensually symbolic thrust of his tongue within the eager wetness of her mouth.
His hand claimed her breast, moulding it firmly and then caressing it rhythmically, his fingertips teasing her nipple before his hand slid back so that this palm was rubbing erotically against it, the caress repeated so firmly and insistently that her whole body began pulse to the rhythmic movement of his hand. Instinctively she wanted to return the intimacy of his touch, to hold the stiff hot flesh of his erection in her hand so that she could explore its veined hardness and see his pleasure whilst she did so.
It had been so long since she had last had sex. She had truly believed that she wasn’t bothered, but now she realised that she must be, because she was already aching with frantic need for Silas.
Silas!
Abruptly she broke the kiss.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this...’
‘Of course we should,’ Silas told her promptly. ‘We’re engaged.’
When she looked at him, he added softly, ‘And, more importantly, you want to.’