Substitute Fiancee

by Lee Wilkinson

During the journey back, Fran found herself replaying the unpleasant scene over and over again.

  Shivering, she recalled Kirk's angry despair... Melinda's cold-blooded determination to ditch the man she had said she loved and end up on the winning side... Blaze's calculated cruelty...

  She couldn't blame him for being angry, but she had been momentarily appalled by his ruthlessness, his decision to give no quarter...

  When they reached the hotel, she thanked the driver and, stumbling out of the taxi, crossed the foyer to the lift.

  She found the suite seemed depressingly silent and empty. Chilled and bone-weary, she decided to have a bath and go to bed, as Blaze had suggested.

  But when she had donned her nightdress and crept beneath the duvet her troubled mind refused to let her sleep.

  After almost an hour of restless tossing and turning, weary of her thoughts, she pulled on her robe, went into the elegant sitting room and, curling up on the settee, flicked on the TV.

  The drama unfolding on the screen was tense and well-acted, but it failed to grip her, and after a few minutes she switched it off again.

  Immediately her recalcitrant thoughts returned to what had happened earlier that evening.

  Though Blaze had stated his intention of going through with the wedding, Fran felt unconvinced and anxious.

  Her emotions, she realised, had tilted like a see-saw. At first she hadn't been able to bear the thought of marrying him when he didn't love her... Then she had reluctantly decided that though living with him would be painful, it would be better than living without him...

  And now, when pride dictated that if he wanted another woman more she should step down, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

  And it was on the cards that she would.

  In spite of everything that had happened, Melinda had seemed very sure he still wanted her... And though he had denied loving her, it was obvious that, sexually at least, she had a powerful hold on him.

  Perhaps his brush-off, his flaunting the fact that he had found himself another bride, had been intended simply to teach her a lesson?

  Maybe when he was satisfied that she had been punished enough and was feeling suitably chastened he would agree to let bygones be bygones and take her back...?

  Fran, her throat feeling as if it was full of shards of hot glass, swallowed hard. If he did, there was nothing she could do about it. Though he had said he wanted her, in truth she had only ever been second-best, a substitute for Melinda...

  For what seemed like an age, while her thoughts continued to go round and round in circles and she grew steadily more miserable, she listened for his key in the lock.

  When eleven-thirty came and went with still no sign of him she began to wonder desolately if perhaps he wasn't coming back.

  Melinda had said she wanted to see him alone. That could mean only one thing. She intended to use her sexual powers as a means of persuasion.

  And she would no doubt find it easy.

  Recalling the little scene in the Jacuzzi, Fran wished fervently that instead of being stupidly shy she had agreed to Blaze's suggestion.

  Now it was too late, and if he was lying in Melinda's arms it was partly her own fault...

  By the time another hour had dragged past all hope had gone, and the only thing she could feel was a leaden sense of despair. Three years ago she had lost the man she loved; now she had lost out again...

  And this time she had lost so much more... The chance to be his wife, to have his children, to live with him for the rest of her life...

  When he had said he only intended to marry once, that he wanted a happy and stable home for his family, she had never doubted that he meant it. And it was exactly what she herself wanted.

  It was unlikely to be what Melinda wanted, but if Blaze was unable to see that for himself... How could a man with a brain as sharp as a Samurai sword be so blind!

  Slow tears began to roll down her cheeks and, sniffing, she wiped them away with the back of her hand...

  She was fast asleep when a touch wakened her. Opening heavy eyes, she looked up dazedly to find Blaze was sitting on the edge of the settee, gazing down at her.

  His expression set and angry, he asked shortly, 'Why aren't you in bed?'

  Sitting up, she pushed the tangle of ash-brown hair back from her flushed cheeks and said thickly, 'I couldn't settle...I kept wondering if...'

  'If Varley had been carted off to gaol? Well, I can put your mind at rest. He hasn't been. At this precise moment he's at the airport, waiting to catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro.'

  Unable to ask what she really wanted to know, she mumbled, 'Alone?'

  'No. They patched up their differences, and Melinda is with him.'

  All Fran could feel was joy, a deep and abiding gladness that Melinda and Kirk were gone and Blaze was here with her. Closing her eyes for an instant, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

  'The fact that they're still together seems to have come as something of a shock to you,' Blaze observed coldly.

  Her voice unsteady, she admitted, 'I am surprised. I felt quite sure she'd give Kirk up in favour of coming back to you.'

  'So what did you have in mind? A ménage à trois?'

  When she looked at him blankly, he added with a bite, 'Surely you haven't forgotten that I had made arrangements for us to be married tomorrow? Or should I say today?'

  'No, of course I hadn't forgotten... But Melinda said she wanted to talk to you alone, and I...I thought she might have made you change your mind...'

  A white line appearing round his mouth, he asked, "Thought? Or hoped!'

  She had started to shake her head when he said flatly, 'As it's turned two-thirty, and you look absolutely all-in, I suggest you get to bed.'

  There were so many things he hadn't told her, so many questions left unanswered, but she felt dazed, unable to think straight. All she wanted to do was lie down with her head on Blaze's shoulder.

  Making an effort, she struggled to her feet, but almost immediately swayed.

  Stooping, Blaze lifted her and carried her through to her bedroom. He set her on her feet by the bed and helped her off with her robe, before turning to leave.

  'Blaze...' She barely breathed his name, but he paused and looked at her. 'Don't go. Please don't go.'

  In the light that filtered in from the other room she saw him stiffen. 'I thought you wanted to sleep on your own tonight?'

  'I've changed my mind.'

  'In need of consolation?' he asked derisively! 'Well, why not?'

  Fran gave a startled gasp as he caught the hem of her nightdress and, pulling it over her head, tossed it aside.

  Turning back the duvet, he ordered, 'Get in.' Then, stripping off his own clothes, he slid in beside her.

  She caught her breath, half wishing she hadn't begged him to stay. The winsome man who had teased her in the Jacuzzi was gone, in his place a hard-eyed, angry stranger.

  'Something wrong?' he queried silkily.

  'No,' she whispered.

  'Then why are you looking so scared?'

  'I—I'm not scared... Just tired.'

  'Well, in that case we won't waste time on preliminaries.'

  Always in the past he had been a tender, considerate lover, careful to see that her body was in tune with his. This time he made no attempt to arouse her, and when some hundred and sixty-odd pounds of bone and lean, hard muscle crushed down on her she tensed and tried to repulse him, upset and angry that he was treating her this way.

  He caught her wrists and pinned them to the pillow, one each side of her head, while he made himself the master of her writhing body.

  Perhaps her struggles triggered some switch, because suddenly, in spite of everything, she found herself responding.

  He felt that response and began to move more slowly, coaxing and holding back, waiting until the core of tension had built to a climax and she gave a little gasping cry.

  When he lifted himself away she lay quite still, engulf
ed in misery, struggling to hold back the tears that made her eyes ache and her cheeks feel stiff.

  She had wanted him, the comfort of his arms and his presence; she had wanted him to hold her close while she fell asleep; she had wanted to pretend for just a little while that he loved her...

  All he had offered her was cold-blooded sex, without a trace of kindness or caring.

  Why had he stayed, if his only intention had been to cause her pain and humiliation? Was he regretting the fact that he had let Melinda go and taking it out on her...?"

  'Did I hurt you?'

  The sudden urgent question broke into her unhappy thoughts, and she became aware that he was propped on one elbow looking down at her.

  When she didn't immediately answer, he shook her a little. 'Did I? Francesca...answer me.'

  'No.' At least not physically.

  'Then why are you crying?'

  'I'm not crying,' she mumbled.

  That was manifestly untrue, and, clearly bothered, he pursued, 'I'm sorry I treated you so roughly. I must have been mad. I promise it won't ever happen again.'

  'It's not that...'

  'No, of course it isn't!' he said suddenly. His voice like ice, he added, 'I'm a fool not to have realised sooner...'

  'Realised what?' she asked thickly.

  "That in the circumstances I don't make a very satisfactory stand-in for Varley.'

  She caught his arm. 'You're wrong...quite wrong... It's nothing like that...'

  Brushing her hand away, he got out of bed.

  'Please, Blaze, listen to me...'

  Ignoring the choked plea, he gathered up his clothes, and a moment later the door closed quietly, but decisively, behind him.

  Left alone in the big bed, Fran cried herself to sleep for the second time that night.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE SOUND of a knock at the door awakened her, and Fran opened heavy eyes to find that sunshine was pouring through the light curtains and flooding the bedroom.

  For a second or two her surroundings looked strange, and, dazed and disorientated, she couldn't remember where she was, or what she was doing here.

  Then it all came back in a rush. She was at the Empire Park Hotel and this was her wedding day.

  Unless, after what had happened the previous night, Blaze had changed his mind?

  As the thought brought a swift stab of alarm there was another sharp rap, and almost immediately the door opened and Blaze walked in.

  He had already showered and shaved. His dark hair was neatly brushed and he was dressed in a lightweight lounge suit.

  Tm sorry to have to wake you.' He sounded distantly polite. 'But it's almost nine-thirty. I've asked for breakfast to be sent up in about fifteen minutes.'

  'I'll be ready.' She tried to match his tone.

  Feeling vulnerable because of her nakedness, she waited until he'd gone before she got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.

  As quickly as possible she showered, and then, dressed in the only remaining clean undies in her case and a fawn jacket and skirt, went through to the sitting room.

  The breakfast trolley had just arrived, and Blaze was standing by it pouring fresh orange juice. As soon as she'd taken her seat he sat down facing her, and, removing the silver lids from several dishes, asked, 'What will you have?'

  Headachy and far from hungry, she was about to tell him that she only wanted coffee when, apparently reading her thoughts, he said firmly, 'You'll feel a great deal better if you have something to eat.'

  Serving her with a piece of crisp bacon and a helping of scrambled eggs, he added, 'You had nothing last night, and I don't want you fainting at the altar.'

  Swallowing a forkful of the light, fluffy eggs, she asked huskily, 'Then you haven't changed your mind? About the wedding, I mean?'

  'No. Have you?' His narrowed grey eyes on her pale face, he added, 'After last night I couldn't blame you if you had.'

  'No,' she said steadily, 'I haven't changed my mind.'

  'Even though the threat of Varley ending up behind bars has been removed?'

  'Was it ever a real threat?'

  'What do you think?'

  Buttering a slice of toast, she said incautiously, 'I rather doubt it.'

  'But you still agreed to marry me?'

  Ignoring that, she asked, 'What made you decide not to press charges?'

  'For one thing, I detest publicity. If the story had got into the papers, which it almost certainly would have done, the media would have had a field-day. For another, my main concern was to get the necklace back. Once that was on the cards I could afford to be magnanimous.'

  'You weren't showing any signs of magnanimity when I left the Royal George,' she said with feeling.

  'At that point I wasn't feeling magnanimous. I was still angry enough to want to make both of them sweat a little. In any case, it made sense to keep up the pressure until they returned the necklace.'

  'As later on you let them leave for the airport, I presume they have returned it?'

  By way of answer he pulled a thick brown paper envelope from his pocket and, opening the flap, poured the contents into his palm.

  Fran drew a deep breath as the blood-red stones caught the light and flashed fire.

  'You'll be able to wear it this afternoon,' he said, with a kind of bleak satisfaction.

  She didn't care for her own sake, but as Blaze wanted to keep up the tradition she was only too delighted that he'd managed to recover it in time.

  'Was it very difficult? Getting it back, I mean...?'

  Dropping it into the envelope, he shook his head. 'The whole thing proved to be a great deal easier than I'd dared hope.'

  'Only you were a long time coming home.'

  He looked at her sharply.

  Flushing a little, she said defensively, 'At least it seemed a long time.' With only partial truth, she added, 'I couldn't imagine what was keeping you.'

  "There were a lot of things to be thrashed out before they started for the airport.'

  'Oh.' She wondered what kind of things.

  'If it hadn't been for that I would have got back a lot sooner. But of course it's swings and roundabouts... If they hadn't been planning to leave the country, they probably wouldn't have been carrying the necklace with them. The fact that they were saved a great deal of time and trouble.'

  Thinking back to something Blaze had said the previous day, Fran asked, 'If you hadn't caught up with them, what were their chances of getting it safely through Customs?'

  'Quite good, I think. Melinda was intending to throw it in with the rest of her jewellery, most of which is artificial. If they'd gone to the trouble to look, the necklace is so 'over the top it's on the cards that anyone who wasn't an expert would have taken it for costume jewellery.

  'It was a risk, of course, but there's one thing you ,can say for Melinda that you can't say for Varley: while she has few principles, she has plenty of guts.'

  'There's something I don't understand,' Fran said in a rush. 'What made her decide to go with Kirk instead of...?' She broke off, biting her lip.

  'Coming back to me?' he finished for her.

  Remembering his reaction the previous night, her 'Yes' was barely above a whisper.

  'You must take me for a fool if you think for one second that I would have had her back... A woman who's shown herself to be so completely hard and heartless...'

  'But you...you seemed to know what she was like. You told me yourself that if you'd ever lost your money she would probably have left you...'

  'I'd always been well aware that Melinda would put her own interests first, but I hadn't realised she could be quite so unscrupulous. I wish Varley joy of her...'

  His mouth wry, he added, 'In spite of the fact that he deserves everything he gets, I could almost feel sorry for him.'

  'There are two things I can't fathom,' Fran said slowly. "The first is, what made her decide to stick with a man she'd called a penniless bankrupt...?'

  Cynically, Blaz
e suggested, 'Perhaps, when I made it quite clear that I was no longer interested, she decided she loved him after all.' His lip curling, he added, 'I suppose any meal ticket's better than none.'

  Reaching to fill Fran's coffee cup, he asked, 'What's the second?'

  She finished her piece of toast and licked a sliver of marmalade from her finger before replying, 'The thing that really puzzles me is why, when they have no money to start a new life, they're still going to South America?'

  'Because I gave them an ultimatum,' Blaze said flatly. 'Either they left the country for good, or I'd turn them over to the police. It didn't take them long to decide that leaving the country was the better option.

  'To be absolutely certain they got the message, I added that if they ever attempted to come back, I'd file charges against them. Just in case they tried to change their minds, I had them escorted to the airport by two of Ritters agents, who then waited to make sure they got on the plane.'

  Two of Ritters agents... A sudden picture of the middle-aged couple who had been sitting close to the door in the Georgian Room flashed into her mind.

  When he had escorted her out to the taxi, Blaze had nodded to them...

  Watching her transparent face, he smiled mirthlessly. "They look innocuous, don't they? That's why they're so good at their jobs.'

  Seeing she'd finished her coffee, he put down his own empty cup and asked, 'Any more toast or anything?'

  She shook her head. 'I've had a good breakfast.'

  'Feeling better?'

  'Much better. You were right about needing to eat.'

  'Well, if you're ready...? You'll want some wedding finery, and at least the beginnings of a trousseau, so we ought to make a start.'

  He rose to his feet, and, having pulled back her chair, picked up the envelope containing the necklace. 'But first I'd best put this away.'

  Moving a Douglas Reed watercolour to reveal a small safe, he put the envelope inside and reset the code.

  As they headed for the lift his hand at her waist was impersonal, his manner businesslike.

  She felt a sudden painful longing for the man she had known and loved three years earlier—the warm, romantic man who would have held her hand and smiled at her.

  It was sad to think that he had gone for ever, replaced by an aloof stranger who saw marriage merely as a business transaction.