by Miranda Lee
James snorted. ‘He’s living in the Dark Ages. That man has no concept of what life is like these days.’
Marina was startled when James suddenly slid across the seat towards her and took her hands in his. She shrank back from him into the corner, her eyes rounding on his intense and far too close face. Her heart was immediately pounding. Her lips parted slightly as hot, panting breaths puffed from her lungs.
She was embarrassingly aware of William behind the wheel, just a couple of metres away, blithely ignoring what was going on. Was that because this type of thing happened all the time when His Lordship had an attractive woman in the back seat with him? Henry had implied James had once been a ladies’ man. Maybe he’d never given up the tag. Maybe he’d merely moved his romantic rendezvous from his apartment to his car!
‘My God, what has he said to you?’ he rasped, on seeing her reaction. ‘No, you don’t have to tell me. I can guess. I never could hide anything from Henry.’
‘H-hide?’ She had begun to tremble at his nearness. His scent enveloped her, as did his powerful male aura. A yearning shuddered through her and she found herself leaning towards him. Closer. Closer.
His fingers tightened around hers. He stared down at them, then began to lift them towards his mouth.
‘No!’ she choked out.
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. On opening them, he sighed and placed her hands back in her lap.
‘I do apologise, Marina. I got carried away for a moment. I didn’t mean to, I assure you. But you are an incredibly beautiful woman. And so darned desirable! I told myself all morning that I would not, could not, entertain such thoughts about you. You’re going to be married, as I am.’
‘But I’m not,’ she whispered, then gasped in self-horror.
His eyes lifted. Pained, beautiful blue eyes.
‘You’re not…what?’
‘Not…not going to be married,’ she confessed shakily. Having said this much, she felt compelled to elaborate. ‘I was already having doubts before I came. The trip away has cleared my mind, and now…now I know I can’t go through with it.’
He just stared at her, his horror almost as great as her own at this conversation. ‘Not because of me, I hope,’ he groaned, with a wealth of distress in his voice.
She said nothing, but his telling words sent tears pricking at her eyes. Henry had been so right. She would be going home with a broken heart. All she could ever mean to James was a passing fancy.
His fingertips on her chin turning her slowly back to face him sent a shiver of agonised desire all through her. It did things to her conscience which would afterwards shock her.
Yes, touch me, she willed wildly as their eyes met. Kiss me. Make me yours, at least this way. I don’t care if you don’t love me, I tell you. I don’t care…
‘Dear God,’ he whispered, his face shaken as he stared into hers. His hand dropped away and he withdrew from her across the seat, his fingers raking his hair as he did so.
He fell broodingly silent, leaving Marina to her guilt and her remorse. She wished now she’d never said a thing. It had been wrong of her. And wicked. She’d been warned, but she hadn’t heeded that warning. She’d blindly gone ahead and as good as told James she was his for the taking. Henry had practically begged her not to put temptation in his path and what had she done? Told him she’d broken her engagement then looked into his eyes like a love-sick cow.
She felt sick with shame.
She had to do something—undo the damage which had been done.
‘You’re mistaken,’ she said quietly into the thickening silence, hoping William was concentrating on the traffic. He seemed to be, as it was horrendous. ‘My decision has nothing to do with you, other than that you showed me the kind of man I would like to marry. As I said, I was already having serious doubts about Shane before I left Sydney.
‘I will not deny I am attracted to you. You’re a very handsome and charming man, James, as I’m sure you are well aware. Henry sensed this…attraction…between us, and it worried him. But an attraction can stay just that, can’t it?’ she told him, with far more conviction than she was feeling. ‘We don’t have to act on it. We can just be friends, can’t we?’
His eyes were sardonic as they turned to her. ‘Not if you look at me as you did a moment ago.’
She swallowed, then steeled herself. ‘Granted. But you were touching me at the time. If you give me your word as a gentleman that you will keep your hands off, I will give you my word as a good Aussie girl not to do anything equally provocative.’
His laugh was rueful. ‘I’ve met some not so good Aussie girls in my day.’
‘And I’ve met some not so gentlemanly gentlemen,’ she countered. ‘But they are other people and this is us. I would like to think we have a sense of honour. I know I have.’
He sighed. ‘How unfortunate.’
‘You don’t mean that, James.’
‘No,’ he said wearily. ‘I don’t suppose I do.’
‘And I think we will just forget my going down to Winterborne Hall. That would not be a wise move.’
‘True.’
‘Now I would like to put my mind and energy back on the reason I came over here in the first place,’ she said as a large hospital came into view on their right. ‘We seem to have arrived and I happen to be feeling quite nervous.’
He glanced over at her and his expression carried sincere regret. ‘What a selfish bastard I am,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, of course you must be nervous—as must Rebecca. Yet here I am, consumed with my own pathetic needs. I am so sorry, Marina. For everything. Forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive. Things happen sometimes which have no rhyme or reason.’
‘Do they? I’m not so sure. I have come to hold the view that things are written, that fate has plans for all of us.’
She wondered if he was talking about his brother’s death, as well as his best friend’s. Did he believe he’d been fated to become the Earl of Winterborne so that he would be in a better position to take care of his best friend’s family? It was a romantic idea, but Marina held no such views on death. When you’d seen someone die of cancer it was hard to believe in anything like that.
James shrugged off a frown and leant forward, tapping William on the shoulder. Thankfully, the chauffeur had had the radio playing and did not appear to have been listening to them.
His head twisted round a little. ‘Yes, My Lord?’
‘Let us off at the front entrance, William, then go and find a park. I will be taking Marina in to meet Rebecca and staying a while to visit. Wait for me in the foyer and I’ll find you when I come down.’
‘Very well, My Lord.’ If he’d heard anything of what had gone on, he gave no indication of it.
Marina popped out of the back seat, unaided, while James collected the overnight bag Henry had lent her from the boot. It was a snazzy little red leather number, and easily accommodated her nightwear, toiletries, plus some casual clothes.
When James joined her on the top steps of the hospital entrance and put his hand lightly on her elbow, she automatically shot him a warning glance. He rolled his eyes but took his hand off.
‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered from beside her on their way through the huge glass doors.
‘Maybe,’ she returned crisply. ‘But it’s the way it’s going to be.’
‘You’re a hard woman.’
‘Not at all. I have a feeling you’re spoilt where the opposite sex is concerned. Not enough women have said no to you in the past! But you’re not that irresistible, Your Lordship.’
‘Oh, my God, we’re not back to that, are we?’
‘We certainly are!’
He muttered an expression under his breath which she doubted would have found favour with Henry.
Marina almost smiled. There was something rather satisfying in taking the reins where this situation was concerned. She wasn’t a teacher for nothing. Bossiness came naturally to her where little boys were concer
ned, and underneath she had a feeling there was still a little boy in the Earl of Winterborne.
Unfortunately, there was also a big boy. A very good-looking, utterly appealing and incredibly sexy big boy!
But she wasn’t going to think about that, was she? And she wasn’t going to listen to that awful voice in her head any more, the wickedly dark one which kept telling her she could have this man if she wanted to. That she could go down to Winterborne Hall and spend every night in his bedroom, then wing her way back to Sydney with no one the wiser—least of all Lady Tiffany Ravensbrook, whom Henry had kindly informed her would be in Italy!
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE first thing Marina saw when James directed her towards Rebecca’s bed in the children’s ward was not the small child propped up against a mountain of pillows, but the young woman sitting on the side of the bed with a book in her hands.
She was the most beautiful girl Marina had ever seen. Not just attractive. Not just pretty. Beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.
Straight, shoulder-length blonde hair. Skin like porcelain. A perfect profile. Full soft lips. A slender, fragile-looking body.
Marina knew at once who she was.
The girl looked up at their approach, and her eyes matched the rest of her. Large hazel eyes, thickly lashed and immediately smiling at James—as was her lovely coral-glossed mouth.
But it was the child in the bed who spoke first, the bald-headed, deathly pale, unbelievably thin child, whose big green eyes looked too large for her face.
‘Uncle James!’ Rebecca exclaimed, excitement bringing some colour to her hollow cheeks. ‘Look, it’s Uncle James, Tiffany. And he’s brought my Marina with him!’
Marina was startled but touched by this term of endearment. And yet it was true, wasn’t it? She was Rebecca’s Marina. They were going to become bonded as few people could be. Her own flesh and blood was going to save this brave little girl’s life. She just knew it would!
Marina came forward and held out her hands to the child, who took them straight away, without hesitation. Out of the corner of her eye, Marina was aware of the exquisitely lovely Lady Tiffany standing and giving James a peck on the cheek. They also began whispering to each other. She steadfastly ignored the jab of jealousy and gave all her attention to Rebecca, sitting down and giving her a big hug.
‘Oh, Uncle James!’ Rebecca cried afterwards. ‘She’s so pretty. And she has hair the same colour as mine! When I have hair, that is,’ she added, a little self-consciously.
‘You’ll have hair again, my pet,’ Marina said softly, and took the child’s hands again. ‘In no time at all, you’re going to be feeling so well.’
‘Yes, I know. Uncle James rang me this morning and he said we’re going to do it tomorrow. I can’t wait!’
‘Neither can I.’
‘The doctors said it won’t hurt. Of course I’ll be fully asleep, but you have a choice. You can have a general anaethestic, if you like, or just a local. I think you should have a general,’ she advised in all seriousness. ‘Then you won’t have to worry whether it hurts or not. You see, doctors always say things won’t hurt, but mostly they do a bit.’
Marina’s heart twisted at this seven-year-old trying to reassure her, the adult. She was like a little adult herself. But that was what pain and sickness did to one. It made you old before your time.
She’d seen it before in other children, when she’d gone to the hospital to visit her mother and stopped in sometimes at the children’s cancer ward. Her heart had just wept for the poor, brave little darlings who’d seen more misery in their short lives than most people had in a lifetime.
‘I think I’ll be a coward and have a general,’ she confided quietly. ‘I’m not brave like you.’
Rebecca giggled. ‘Did you hear that, Uncle James? Marina thinks I’m brave. Oh, that’s so funny. I’m not at all brave. I cry all the time when they put those horrid needles in me. I hate needles,’ she whispered to her new friend and confidante.
‘Well, heavens to Betsy, of course you do!’ Marina said indignantly. ‘What self-respecting girl would like needles. Yuk! I shudder just to think of them.’
Rebecca crowed with laughter. ‘Oh, but you are funny. And you talk funny, too,’ she said, obviously referring to Marina’s accent—though it wasn’t as broad as most, due to her elocution lessons. Marina had always thought she sounded rather British. Clearly she didn’t.
‘But I like it,’ Rebecca announced. ‘And I like you too. She’s smashing, isn’t she, Uncle James?’
The arrival of a nurse wanting to do a routine check of Rebecca’s vital signs gave James the perfect excuse not to answer. Unfortunately it also meant Marina had to finally face the girl he was to marry.
Gathering herself, she stood and turned, flinching at the sight of James’s arm around Lady Tiffany’s slender waist.
On second sight the girl was even more lovely. She was wearing cream cotton trousers with a cream and fawn striped vest-style top; the simple outfit screamed the sort of style money could not necessarily buy. The girl had class and elegance which had been bred into her. It was inherent, as was the way she held herself, so upright, and with a proud little tilt of her perfect little nose.
She was, for want of a better word, a lady.
‘I’m so glad I had the opportunity to meet you,’ the lady herself said, after James had introduced them. ‘I think it’s marvellous what you’re doing. Rebecca is such a darling. I only wish I could be here for her tomorrow, but I have to fly to Italy this afternoon. In fact, I must be going shortly, James.
‘Now don’t go saying you’ll come with me to the airport. That’s silly. You stay here and visit with Rebecca. I’ve ordered a taxi. I only dropped in for a while on my way. I have to go to Rome to be in the wedding party of one of my cousins,’ she explained to Marina with the sweetest of smiles.
Marina’s own smile felt plastic. Why couldn’t she have been a bitch? An upper-class snob with a snooty attitude instead of this softly spoken and obviously very nice girl.
‘I don’t really want to go, but I’m obliged. Worse, I’m having to go several days before the actual wedding to have my bridesmaid dress properly fitted. It’s not even a nice dress,’ she added laughingly. ‘And it’s purple! Can you imagine me in purple?’
‘You’d look lovely in anything, Tiffany,’ James complimented her.
Tiffany gave him such an adoring look Marina wanted to cry. This girl not only loved him, she was besotted by him. A quick glance at James’s face showed more than mere affection for the girl in return. His gaze was meltingly indulgent and definitely loving.
They looked splendid standing there as a couple, she as fair and delicate as he was dark and strong. Marina could see why Henry was so protective of the relationship. Lady Tiffany would make a perfect Countess, the perfect partner for the best Earl of Winterborne in a hundred years.
‘I agree,’ Marina said quickly, to cover her dismay. ‘With your hair and complexion, any colour would suit you. I would be a disaster in purple. Scarlet doesn’t do much for me, either.’
Lady Tiffany laughed softly, and Marina tried not to pull a face. But there was just so much perfection she could take. Why couldn’t the infernal girl have had yellow incisors, or molars full of metal, or an overbite? Why did her laugh have to show two flawless rows of immaculate pearly whites?
Marina herself had had to suffer years of braces to correct her own dental shortcomings.
Physical perfection in James she could admire and lust after. But not in this exquisite creature who was going to become his wife, but whom Prince Charming had not yet acquainted with his undoubtedly virile flesh.
Why was that? Marina puzzled all of a sudden, and with a vehemence alien to her normally pragmatic personality.
Surely she couldn’t still be a virgin? Not in this day and age, not at nearly twenty-one and certainly not looking like that!
But the more Marina stared into those big hazel eyes the more she became c
onvinced that Lady Tiffany was totally untouched by male hands.
Totally!
There was an unknowing innocence in her face, and in those eyes. The glances she sent James contained nothing of naked desire and everything of a blind and almost adolescent hero-worship. That peck she’d given him on the cheek bespoke the affection more of a sister than a lover.
What in God’s name was James waiting for? For them to be officially engaged? Surely he didn’t expect to hold out till his wedding night! That was archaic, and totally unnatural when two healthy young people were in love. He should be making love to her all the time. Good grief, if she were engaged to him then she would not—
Marina caught herself up short.
But you’re not engaged to him, Marina, that awful voice piped up. Whether Tiffany is a virgin or not is none of your business. The same applies to the current status of His Lordship’s sex life. Or are you thinking of taking up the slack, so to speak? Of giving the poor dear chap some well-needed comfort while the ice-princess swans off to Italy, naively leaving her intended behind in the clutches of the evil Aussie seductress?
‘Look, Uncle James!’ Rebecca said delightedly. ‘Marina’s daydreaming, just like me!’
Marina pulled herself quickly together and walked over to the bed again. ‘Nothing wrong with daydreaming. I have a lot of fun in my daydreams.’
‘So do I,’ Rebecca replied happily. ‘When I daydream, I’m all grown up and beautiful, with hair just like yours. I’m never ever sick. And I’m married to a wonderful man like my uncle James and I have lots and lots of children. I don’t like being an only child,’ she finished, her lips pouting.
Marina’s heart turned over at the child’s dream, which rather echoed her own. What she would not give to be in Lady Tiffany’s shoes! ‘Being an only child has some good points,’ Marina said kindly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘For one thing it develops your imagination and your self-sufficiency.’
‘What’s self-suff…suffish…’ Rebecca pursed her lips in frustration. ‘What you said!’
Marina smiled. ‘It means being able to do things all by yourself. It means being strong.’