Bride for a Price

by Stephanie Howard

  Olivia kept her eyes averted as he then moved to the wardrobe to hang up his suit. ‘As you’ll have noticed,’ he commented over his shoulder, ‘I’ve used only a small part of the hanging space. Feel free to use the rest.’

  ‘So kind!’ Her tone was sarcastic as she waited for him to remove himself before carrying over her couple of skirts and blouses and arranging them on hangers. Too bad there weren’t separate wardrobes, she was thinking moodily as she pushed them to the end of the rail, as far away from his things as she could possibly get. There was something all too intimate about their clothes hanging together, side by side, in the same wardrobe. Which was why she had left her underwear and her night things discreetly in her bag. Matthew had brought no night things, she had observed. Thank heavens he would be locked away safely in the other room for the night!

  He had deposited himself in the meantime on one of the delicate bedroom chairs, his broad, muscular frame providing an uneasy contrast with its apparent frailty, and he was leafing through one or the entertainment guides that were strewn about the room. ‘We must go to the Lido while we’re here,’ he told her, glancing up. ‘It’s usually, booked up for weeks ahead, but I’m sure the hotel can fix us up.’

  Olivia regarded him with cool disapproval. ‘Get them to book you a table if you wish, but count me out. An evening ogling half-naked women doesn’t count as entertainment in my book.’

  He smiled, amused. ‘Dear, dear! Quite the little puritan. But never mind. You can concentrate your attentions on the food, I’ll do all the ogling.’

  No doubt he would. Olivia remained standing in the middle of the room, not quite certain where to put herself, acutely conscious of the semi-clad figure eyeing her with amusement from the gilt armchair. The deep V of the loosely tied robe revealed a disconcertingly eye-catching expanse of smoothly muscled, dark-tanned chest, while the hem that stopped short above his knees exposed to perfection a pair of shapely, hair-roughened male legs.

  Olivia hadn’t even removed the jacket of her suit. She thrust her hands into its pockets now and looked down at him censoriously. ‘Don’t you think you ought to get dressed? They’ll be here with our dinner soon.’

  Matthew raised one dark eyebrow at her and stretched his legs more comfortably. ‘I am dressed, my dear Olivia—perfectly adequately. Don’t worry, those room-service boys have seen a lot more shocking things in their time than yours truly in his dressing-gown.’ The deep hazel eyes roamed over her attire. ‘Why don’t you follow my example and slip into something more comfortable?’ He nodded in the direction of the bathroom. ‘There’s another robe in there.’

  He had to be joking! Olivia had no more intention of parading around semi-clothed in front of him that she had of dangling from the chandelier.

  Pointedly, she sat down on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs that lined the wall and crossed her legs primly at the ankle. ‘I’m already quite comfortable enough,’ she told him, though it wasn’t really true. The centrally heated room was extremely warm, and she could feel the silk blouse beneath her jacket sticking to her back. But she was damned if she would shed a single stitch until he was safely asleep in the other room.

  Dinner arrived promptly and was served in the salon. And it was absolutely delicious—the pate exquisite, the steak melt-in-the-mouth and the wine full-bodied and mellow.

  Away from the bedroom, Olivia started to relax a bit. Between the pate and the steak, she had finally succumbed to the central heating and removed the jacket of her suit. Without any immediately dire results. Matthew had simply smiled. ‘Hot, huh? I told you, you should have changed.’

  Throughout the entire meal, in fact, he was remarkably civil, keeping the conversation to a comfortably non-personal exchange of stories about Paris and hotels abroad. And as he put to her his plans for the week ahead—a trip up the Eiffel Tower, a visit to the Louvre—Olivia began to feel the tiniest spark of enthusiasm come alive. And why not? she rationalised to herself. It was a long time since she’d had a holiday, and Paris was one of the world’s most exciting cities. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it?

  ‘I don’t suppose I can tempt you to indulge in a dessert?’ he enquired as they pushed aside their empty steak plates.

  Olivia shook her head. ‘No, thanks.’ She had already eaten more than enough, and she could feel tiredness creeping over her.

  ‘Coffee?’

  Again she shook her head. ‘I think I’ll skip that as well. I’d just like to have a shower now and turn in, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all.’ He stretched briefly and yawned. ‘I’m pretty tired, too. It’s been quite a day.’ He ran long, tanned fingers over his hair. ‘I think you’re right—it’s time for bed.’

  Awkwardly, Olivia started to stand up. ‘OK, I’ll leave you, then.’ She gathered up her jacket from the back of the chair and avoided looking at him as she asked, ‘Do you want to use the bathroom first?’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘No need,’ he said.

  ‘Very well.’ She turned and headed for the bedroom door. ‘In that case, I’ll say goodnight.’

  Once on the other side of the door, she let out a huge sigh of relief. So he was capable of acting like a gentleman, after all. She kicked off her shoes and crossed to the bathroom. Instead of the shower she’d mentioned, she’d treat herself to a relaxing ten minutes in the jacuzzi. That would give Matthew ample time to help himself to a couple of blankets from the wardrobe and make himself comfortable on the sofa next door. She smiled to herself. He had said he was tired too. By the time she emerged from her bath he would probably be sound asleep.

  The jacuzzi was delicious. Olivia leaned back and closed her eyes, loving the sensuous, relaxing play of the warm jets against her naked body. One down and how many more left to go, had he said? Too many— but be grateful for small mercies, she reminded herself. Every day ticked off the grand total was a day to celebrate.

  Out of the bath, she rubbed herself dry and tied a soft pink towel around her bosom, then carefully unpinned her glossy dark hair and shook it loose about her shoulders. As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror—at the ivory-skinned shoulders and throat and the long, shapely, slender legs peeping out from beneath the towel that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs—she had to stifle a sleepy yawn. Suddenly the thought of that huge silk bed, just waiting for her on the other side of the door, was enormously appealing. She couldn’t wait to get into it. She felt as though she could sleep for a week.

  As soon as she opened the bathroom door, however, she realised that something was amiss. All the lights in the bedroom beyond had mysteriously been dimmed. Olivia frowned. What was going on? Then, cautiously, she stepped into the room.

  The next instant she stopped in her tracks, all her tiredness instantly fleeing from her. In its place, mingled horror and outrage were suddenly burning through her veins. For lying casually on the bed, his dark head propped against the snow-white pillows, was Matthew, and he was smiling strangely.

  ‘At last!’ The dark eyes caressed her semi-naked form as with one hand he flicked back the bedclothes and invited, ‘Come, my bride. Come and join me.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Olivia felt her jaw drop open. Her feet seemed riveted to the floor. ‘What the…?’ she started to protest, her cheeks burning as bright pink as the towel wrapped scantily around her naked form.

  Then, as Matthew continued to watch her from the bed, still smiling that strangely alarming smile as he leaned forward and held out his hand towards her—‘Come, Olivia. Come and join me…’—all at once she was spinning on her heel and hurtling back through the bathroom door.

  With trembling fingers she tore from its hook the thick white towelling robe that was hanging on the back of the door, then struggled hastily into it and pulled the belt tight at the waist. Whatever bizarre intention had suddenly entered Matthew’s head, she would feel better equipped to deal with it if she was properly dressed.

  As she strode back into the bedro
om, shoulders squared, chin held high, ready for a confrontation, he had already risen from the bed and was standing, hands in the pockets of his own towelling robe, half-way to the bathroom door. He turned a quizzical smile on her. ‘What’s the matter, Olivia? Didn’t you expect to find me here?’

  Of course she hadn’t! She’d expected him to be next door, tucked up on the sofa, sound asleep. ‘I would have thought that was obvious!’ she snapped back defensively at him. ‘I don’t make a habit of parading around half-naked in front of men I scarcely know!’

  Through the indignation in her voice ran a nervous tremor of alarm. There was something about the way he was standing there—such a dark and powerfully potent male figure—that she found at once both menacing and faintly, intriguingly compelling.

  He seemed to pick up the ambivalence in her as he stepped towards her with a smile. ‘No need to be so nervous, Olivia.’ His hand was on her arm, his voice a deep purr, as, moving still closer, he assured her, ‘We can take this whole thing just as slow and easy as you wish.’

  ‘What whole thing?’ She swallowed drily, her heart hammering wildly, her limbs suddenly frozen. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘This.’

  All at once, the hand on her arm had slipped round softly to encompass her waist, and with only the lightest of pressure, it seemed, he was drawing her weightlessly into his arms.

  Olivia gasped soundlessly as the warmth of his body made contact with her own, the raw, burning heat of that rugged male torso and the firm, hard pressure of his hips and thighs sending garbled sensations of horror laced with excitement coursing through her veins. Then his free hand reached up to sweep through her hair, sending hot and cold shivers across her scalp, and she had no strength to snatch her head away as his lips began their slow descent towards hers.

  There was no way that Olivia had been prepared for this development at all. Momentarily stunned and shocked, she stood immobile in his arms as firm, hard, sensuous lips claimed hers in a searing hot kiss. She was equally unprepared for the sudden shaft of sheer carnal intoxication that went surging through her, right down to her toes. As though someone had connected her up to a generator and switched on all the power.

  She shivered, her limbs turned to water as he pulled her closer still, his mouth moving magically against hers, seducing her senses as he deepened his kiss. And a fire stole across her quivering flesh as she felt the hand at her waist move round with tantalising intent to cup the full, firm swell of her breast, the strong, hard fingers softly moulding, sending tingles of wild excitement blistering across her naked nerve-ends.

  It was like being possessed by some force beyond control. For a heady moment she seemed suspended, all powers of resistance paralysed within her, then the hand at her breast began to move downwards, tugging at the towelling belt at her waist, and renewed fear and panic obliterated all other emotions as she felt it suddenly drop loose.

  In an instant the power returned to her limbs and the will to resist was unclogging her brain. With a sudden, ferocious burst of strength, she hauled herself free from his embrace, her hands clutching at the dishevelled front of her robe as she staggered backwards, her eyes spitting fierce outrage.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded furiously.

  For a moment, Matthew didn’t move. Slowly he narrowed his eyes at her, and when he spoke his voice was gritty and low. ‘What the hell do you think I was doing? I was making love to my wife.’

  ‘Oh, no…’ She continued to back away from him, though he had made no move to close the gap. ‘You can forget about anything like that.’ With fumbling fingers she pulled her belt tight. ‘That was never a part of our deal.’

  Hard hazel eyes seemed to pierce right through her. ‘Who says?’ he demanded roughly.

  Olivia was backed against the wall, hate and adrenalin surging through her, her every instinct poised for a fight. ‘I say,’ she informed him through clenched teeth. ‘You’re going against the deal we made. We agreed that our relationship was to be strictly business.’

  ‘Did we?’ One contemptuous dark eyebrow arched in riposte. ‘We made a business deal, I’ll grant you that, but I don’t recall at any stage the content of our relationship being discussed. Am I wrong? Did you at any point stipulate that our marriage should be anything less than a full and properly consummated union?’

  Olivia was gagging inwardly as he took a step forward to close the gap between them. ‘I didn’t think that was necessary,’ she told him tightly, her face grown pale. ‘I was under the impression that both of us were civilised people.’

  ‘Then you were wrong.’ He paused to look down at her, eyes like flints, and his tone was spiked with steel as he warned her, ‘If you think I have any intention of enduring six months of celibacy, then I’m greatly afraid that you’re in for a shock. You and I, my dear Olivia, are legally married, husband and wife—and husband and wife is what we’re going to be, take my word for it, in every respect.’

  Olivia’s brain was in a whirl, desperately groping for some way out. ‘If it’s just celibacy you’re worried about, you needn’t be,’ she assured him hurriedly. ‘You’ve got Celine. You don’t need me. You’re perfectly free to continue your affair.’

  ‘Is that so?’ His expression changed, a hint of wry amusement in the dark eyes now. ‘For such a little puritan as yourself, that’s a remarkably laid-back attitude.’ Then the lines of his features darkened again. ‘But one, alas, that I don’t share. I’m afraid, my dear Olivia, adultery is not in my repertoire. There will be no affairs, not with Celine nor with any other woman. What do I need with other women when I already have a wife?’

  ‘But—for heaven’s sake—’ Olivia could see that what he was saying he was saying in deadly earnest. Her back was jammed against the wall. She could hear the blood hammering in her ears. ‘You may have a wife,’ she glared at him, ‘but there’s only one way you’ll ever get your way with me—and that’s if you’re prepared to drag me to your bed and rape me!’

  Her melodramatic little outburst brought a faint smile to the finely sculpted lips. ‘Sorry, Olivia,’ he shot back with a sneer, ‘but rape’s not in my repertoire either. I prefer my women willing.’ The dark eyes scanned her trembling form. ‘And I’m a patient man. Up to a point,’ he emphasised. ‘I’m prepared to give you time to come round.’

  Olivia eyed him with dislike. Such unbridled masculine arrogance, to assume that she would ever come round! ‘In that case, you’ll wait for ever,’ she took pleasure in informing him.

  But Matthew simply smiled again, thinly, without humour. ‘I repeat—I’ll give you time.’ Then he dropped his shoulders in an abrupt, impatient sigh. ‘In the meantime, I suggest we get some sleep—since there’s nothing else on the agenda.’ He glanced across at the big, waiting bed. ‘If we keep to opposite ends, we should be able to get through the night.’

  This had to be another joke. ‘Surely you don’t seriously expect us to share the same bed?’

  He glanced back at her. ‘I can see only one bed, so what’s the alternative? Don’t worry,’ he gave a tired shrug, ‘I’m sure I’ll manage to keep my hands off you.’

  Olivia straightened. ‘That’s out of the question.’ Then she reminded him, ‘There’s a sofa next door.’

  Indifferently, he shrugged again. ‘That’s up to you. If you prefer to sleep on the couch, you go ahead.’

  Obviously he hadn’t understood. ‘But I thought you—’ she began.

  But of course he had understood perfectly. ‘Sorry, Olivia, I’m afraid not.’ The dark eyes taunted as he shook his head. ‘I’ve never had much of a passion for sleeping on sofas, alas.’

  Ungallant swine! She glared at him.

  He merely smiled an unrepentant smile as he headed for the bathroom. Then he added insult to injury as he called over his shoulder, ‘You’ll probably find some spare blankets in the cupboard. And if you find the sofa too uncomfortable, you can always come through and share the bed
with me.’

  As the bathroom door closed behind him, Olivia swore beneath her breath. She would sooner sleep on a bed of nails than slip between the sheets with him! With a last, lingering glance at that expanse of silken luxury, she helped herself to an armful of blankets before retreating, vanquished, to the salon and the sofa.

  What a naive and trusting fool she’d been ever to have believed for a single moment that a man like Matthew Jordan would be capable of conducting this so-called marriage with decency and decorum! The next six months were going to be hell. Tonight, she sensed, was just the start.

  From sheer exhaustion, Olivia slept, but she woke up next morning feeling as though she’d spent the entire night on the rack. Her neck ached, her back ached, her shoulders felt stiff. From head to toe she was a mass of cramps.

  She staggered through to the bathroom to find Matthew already up and dressed and barking out a string of commands over the bedside telephone. So, even on his honeymoon, it was business as usual, she thought with a wry smile to herself as he barely bothered to glance her way. Thank heavens she hadn’t been the least bit tempted to succumb to his sexual advances last night. If she had, she could just imagine how cheap and tacky she would be feeling now as, his carnal appetites temporarily appeased, he blithely set matrimonial matters aside to concentrate on Jordan Electronics. Wasn’t he just a copy of her father!

  He was still on the phone when she re-emerged from the bathroom, but again he failed to acknowledge her presence as she quickly grabbed some things from the wardrobe and hurried back to the salon to dress. It was only when he joined her downstairs for breakfast, three-quarters of an hour later, that he tossed her a casual, ‘Good morning,’ followed by a wicked, ‘How did you sleep?’