Bride for a Price

by Stephanie Howard

  But, contrary to all her fears, Richard’s arrival on the scene had had the effect of oil on troubled waters, bringing out in Matthew yet another new and unsuspected side. He had gone to considerable trouble to keep his young guest occupied and amused. Today’s gliding lesson had just been the latest in a string or riding trips and games of chess and endless sets of tennis on the private tennis courts. And it was perfectly dear to any observer that he had enjoyed himself every bit as much as Richard. The harsh lines that had darkened the handsome features of late were noticeably softened, and the old spark of humour was rekindled in his eyes.

  And, though she remained as cautious as ever about keeping herself at a safe distance from him, with Richard to act as a kind of buffer, Olivia was aware of a definite lessening of hostility between the two of them. Once or twice there was even a momentary flash of that relaxed, easy closeness they had shared sporadically in Paris.

  But the real eye-opener had been Matthew’s runaway success with Richard. Almost hourly Olivia had seen the undisguised respect and admiration growing in her brother’s eyes. ‘I take back everything I ever said about him and the Jordans, Sis,’ he had confided at the end of his first day. ‘He’s great! I’m really going to enjoy having him as a brother-in-law.’

  Olivia had smiled tightly and glanced away, aware of a new weight pressing on her now. For suddenly she realised that when it came to explaining the divorce to her brother—in just under five months’ time—she was not going to have an easy task on her hands.

  It was undoubtedly all these conflicting anxieties and emotions that brought on the nightmare on the night before Richard was due to leave.

  As usual, she had lain awake for hours, her brain teeming with seemingly insoluble problems. Then at last she had drifted off, only to be seized by an overwhelming terror, like some demon entering her soul. Next thing she was sitting up in bed, her body soaked in a lather of sweat, panting, her fingers clutching at the bedclothes, dimly aware that she was crying out.

  ‘Hey, what’s up, love? Relax. You’re safe.’ Even as she still struggled to regain her bearings, a warm, reassuring arm was stealing round her shoulder, drawing her still-shivering body against a broad and comforting chest. A strong, gentle hand smoothed her sweat-tousled hair. ‘You’re all right, Olivia,’ a soft voice was telling her. ‘I’m here with you. It was only a dream.’

  Gratefully she leaned against him, her frightened, trembling fingers clutching at the rock-hard solidity of his arms, seeking, and somehow finding, a sense of security against the threat that still seemed to hover in the darkness all around her. As the bedside-lamp was suddenly snapped on Olivia blinked but did not move, feeling the wild race of her heart gradually start to slow as the safe and comforting presence at her side continued to hold her and stroke away her fear.

  ‘Do you want me to bring you a glass of water?’ Matthew enquired softly against her hair.

  ‘No!’ She tightened her grip impulsively on his arm, not wanting him to move away and leave her prey to the faceless menace still lurking out there in the shadows.

  He was wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of dark blue silk pyjama bottoms. But, oddly, Olivia was not aware of his near-nakedness, only of his calm and comforting strength. Childlike, she pressed her pale-cheeked face against the smooth-muscled, dark-tanned chest, his warmth and the clean male scent of him like a healing balm to her shattered nerves. As hard, gentle arms closed protectively around her, she closed her eyes and heard him say, ‘Do you want to tell me what the dream was about? The best way to drive a nightmare from your mind is simply to talk about it, I find.’

  Olivia stole a glance at him, meeting the pair of frank, caring eyes that looked down from above a dark-stubbled jaw. She frowned slightly—surely a man like Matthew Jordan had never had a nightmare in his life?—then she answered truthfully, ‘I can’t remember. All I know is someone was chasing me and I was trying to get away. Only, my legs wouldn’t move. My feet felt as though they were stuck to the ground.’

  ‘A typical anxiety dream.’ He stroked her hair and smiled a wry smile. ‘I trust the villain of the piece wasn’t me, by any chance?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ At the comforting note of humour in his voice, she allowed herself a tremulous smile. ‘I’m not even sure if it was a person. It was just something scary. I couldn’t even see it.’

  Matthew drew the silky sheet around her shoulder and softly continued to stroke her hair, the leisurely, caressing movement acting like a tranquilliser to her senses. ‘You’ve been letting things get to you, bottling up your emotions. I’ve been watching you over the weeks and I’ve seen it building up…’

  Olivia shot him another glance, her eyes betraying her surprise.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he questioned mildly. ‘Did you perhaps believe I was blind?’

  Not blind, but she had assumed that, like most people, he was selective in the things he chose to observe. And surely her tormented state of mind would be the last thing to merit his attention? She shook her head and glanced away as he added, changing the subject subtly, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to get you something? A hot drink to help you sleep, perhaps?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ She shook her head again.

  ‘OK.’ Matthew bent to drop a light kiss on her hair. ‘Is it all right if I put out the light?’

  Olivia nodded as he reached out to switch off the lamp, then stiffened as she felt him slide from the bed. Involuntarily she tightened her grip on his arm. ‘But don’t leave me, Matthew. Not just yet.’

  He paused. ‘I’ll stay as long as you like—but I hope you don’t object if I join you underneath the covers. It’s just a little bit chilly out here.’ Then, when she didn’t object, he pulled the sheet back and slid alongside her, his dark head resting on the pillow next to hers, his body warm as he pressed against her, gathering her more fully into his arms.

  With a low, blissful moan Olivia snuggled closer, her soft, pliant body moulding to his, her head cushioned against one muscular shoulder as she slipped an innocent arm round his waist.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she heard him whisper. ‘Sleep now, my love.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ she murmured in response. Then, on an impulse, she stole a glance at the finely carved jaw with its wide, sensitive mouth, at the strong, straight nose and the high, proud brow, and the eyes, closed now, with their long, thick lashes lying across his cheekbones like fringes of black silk. And all at once she knew she couldn’t keep her gnawing guilt to herself any more. She took a deep breath and at last confessed, ‘I’m sorry about what happened that last night in Paris. I was wrong to say the things I said.’

  For a moment Matthew said nothing, and she could sense more than see the response in his face. Then his hand moved softly against her hair and, slowly, the long-lashed dark eyes opened. He smiled. ‘Thank you for that,’ he said. Then his fingers slid down to tilt her chin and she closed her eyes, her heart beating fast, as he bent to press warm lips to hers.

  It was a far too brief and fleeting kiss, over almost before it had begun. Yet its subtle magic seemed to linger as Matthew murmured again, ‘Sleep now,’ and she closed her eyes and drifted away, happy in the warm, safe haven of his arms.

  By the time she awoke next morning, feeling fresh after the best sleep she’d had in weeks, Olivia was once more alone in the big, warm double bed.

  With a twinge almost of disappointment to discover Matthew already gone, she sat up and stretched, then suddenly caught sight of the lavishly wrapped package on the end of the bed. She paused and blinked. It was the package that contained the lingerie he had bought in Paris—and which she had believed was destined for Celine.

  One peep inside confirmed that she was right. The exotic black nightdress and matching négligé nestled expensively in a bed of soft tissue. A little uneasily she laid it aside. What was this gesture supposed to mean?

  Matthew was on the point of leaving as she walked into the breakfast-room. Dressed in his customary weekda
y attire of dark suit, light shirt and bright silk tie, he quickly drained his coffee-cup and grinned up at her as she walked in. ‘Hi there! Good morning. I trust you slept well?’

  ‘Yes, thanks—extremely well,’ Olivia acknowledged a trifle formally. All at once, just at the sight of him, a rush of warmth had spread through her veins and her heart was doing crazy gymnastics, cavorting around inside her chest. Abruptly she turned her eyes towards Richard, who was piling marmalade on to a roll. ‘Hi there,’ she greeted him cheerfully, still uncomfortably aware of Matthew’s dark eyes on her face.

  ‘Morning, Sis. You’re looking well today,’ he responded, causing the pink in her cheeks to deepen.

  She sat down at the table opposite her brother, just as Matthew rose to his feet. ‘I’d better be off,’ she heard him say as she studiously poured orange juice into a glass. Then he was bending to plant a distinctly warmer and less hurried than usual farewell kiss on her lips. ‘I’ll see you this evening,’ he murmured against her ear. Then he straightened and reached out to tousle Richard’s hair. ‘Have a good journey back,’ he told him with a smile. ‘And be sure to come and visit us again just as soon as you can.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will.’ Richard rose to his feet and held out his hand, a gleam of affection and respect in his wide, bright, youthful eyes. ‘And thanks for everything,’ he added sincerely. ‘It’s been a really terrific weekend.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear you enjoyed yourself.’ Matthew smiled back at the boy as he warmly accepted the proffered hand. ‘I enjoyed it too. In fact, I think it did all of us quite a lot of good.’ Dark hazel eyes sought Olivia’s for a moment, then he winked at her. ‘I’ll be back early tonight.’

  Richard left on the one o’clock train, and it was a deeply disturbed Olivia who drove back alone from the railway station.

  Last night, she realised belatedly, had been a terrible and ghastly mistake. The hostility between herself and Matthew that she relied upon to protect herself had already been dangerously eroded since the arrival of Richard. Last night it had dissolved altogether, leaving her mortally exposed. She had even, insanely, apologised and spent the night wrapped in his arms! And now—with that kiss, that wink, the lingerie—it looked alarmingly as though he expected this state of detente to continue.

  But it mustn’t! She shivered at the thought. To allow herself to get any closer to him would be nothing less than suicide on her part. Though she dreaded the thought of a confrontation, somehow —and quickly, before this misunderstanding had time to develop—she must make it very clear to him that last night had been no more than an aberration.

  Olivia kept herself busy that afternoon, making various phone calls to Chester to keep in touch with old colleagues and allies. From The Gallery, Jeffrey Parker assured her that both the business and Sydney, the cat, were thriving quite happily in her absence. But to her surprise, when she tried to contact Lewis at his office, she was told by his new deputy, Arthur McKay, that he had gone off on holiday.

  ‘He went off last Friday,’ he further enlightened her when she enquired. Then, ‘Sorry, I’m afraid he didn’t say where he was going.’

  How very curious, Olivia found herself thinking as she laid down the phone. Though he was perfectly entitled, of course, to go off when and where he pleased, it wasn’t like Lewis to disappear like this without letting her know. Still, it wasn’t really so surprising in the present circumstances, she decided. The poor man had probably been desperate for a break. These days it couldn’t be very pleasant for him working in the shadow of Arthur McKay.

  Mercifully, things would be getting back to normal fairly soon. In just five months, with Garland’s back in Garland hands, Lewis would finally have McKay off his back and would be able to get back to running the company as efficiently as he always had.

  In the meantime… Olivia glanced at her watch… she had much more pressing matters on her mind. Matthew had threatened to come home early, and it was already four o’clock!

  It was just fifteen minutes later that she heard the Rolls come up the drive. Nervously she rose to her feet, adjusting the cuffs of her long-sleeved blouse and smoothing her tightly chignoned hair as she inwardly rehearsed for the hundredth time the carefully reasoned little speech she had prepared that would set things straight between them once and for all.

  She would be neither disagreeable nor aggressive, just firm and logical and composed. She would explain to him in calm and rational terms that she was psychologically incapable of coping with the sort of short-term physical relationship that he, quite dearly, still had in mind. She would leave aside the feelings he aroused in her—the excitement, the fear, the overpowering need. She still barely understood them herself, and their intrusion would only serve to complicate things. Instead she would simply appeal to his finer side, a side she had growing reason to believe did exist, and pray that he would have enough respect for her to agree to her not unreasonable demands.

  He walked through the sitting-room doorway and instantly took her breath away. ‘Hello there! Had a good day?’ In a couple of strides he had crossed to where she was standing and deposited a warm, lingering kiss on her lips.

  Dry-mouthed, Olivia backed away. ‘Not bad,’ she answered numbly, avoiding his gaze. Suddenly her little welcoming speech had evaporated clean out of her head.

  Matthew seemed blissfully unaware of her sudden state of consternation. With long, strong fingers, he loosened his tie. ‘I think I’ll just nip upstairs and have a quick shower and change.’ He paused to drop another burning kiss on her mouth. ‘How about preparing us a drink while I’m gone?’

  ‘Fine,’ she agreed with a brief, brisk nod. Then she paused to watch him as he headed for the door, half hypnotised in spite of herself by the broad, strong shoulders, the smooth, supple back. What a pity that such a splendid creature should pose such a cruel threat to her!

  But he did, and she must deal with it. And, what was more, she must deal with it right now. Mentally, she gave herself a shake. While he was gone, she must re-gather her wits and be ready the minute he walked back through the door to launch relentlessly into her argument. She crossed to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a stiff Martini and Matthew’s habitual Scotch. Over a civilised drink would be the perfect setting for her to state her case.

  Alas, she never got the chance. She had just seated herself on the red velvet sofa when suddenly the door burst open and Matthew came charging into the room like a raging bull. He was still wearing the business suit he’d arrived in, though his good humour had vanished beneath an ebony scowl.

  He came marching up to the sofa and stood over her threateningly. ‘I’d like an explanation—right now!’ he thundered.

  Instinctively, Olivia backed against the cushions. ‘An explanation of what?’ she demanded, forcing herself to meet his eyes. Then, though she suspected that really she knew very well, she shot at him defiantly, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

  ‘You know damned well what I’m talking about!’ His tone was like meat-hooks impaling live flesh, his expression murderous as he went on, ‘You’ve moved your things back into the spare room. Perhaps you’d be good enough to explain why?’

  So it was exactly as she’d thought. Nothing escaped those laser-beam eyes. But though this afternoon, when she had made the move, she’d anticipated his displeasure, it had never crossed her mind that she would have to face anger on this terrible scale. She looked back at him as steadily as she could. ‘My moving into your room was merely a temporary arrangement, for the sake of appearances while Richard was here. Surely you knew I’d move out again as soon as he’d gone?’

  Dark hazel eyes flashed unforgivingly. ‘Not after last night, I didn’t!’ he snapped.

  ‘Last night?’ Olivia narrowed her eyes, assuming an air of incomprehension. ‘I wasn’t aware of anything of particular significance happening last night.’

  ‘Oh, no?’ He was standing right over her, his face a dark, satanic mask of fury. ‘In tha
t case, perhaps I was the one who was having dreams, not you,’ he ground sarcastically. ‘But I distinctly remember that we spent the entire night wrapped in each other’s arms.’

  The memory brought a flush to her cheeks. For a moment she could feel again the delicious warmth of his flesh against hers, the sweet softness of his breath in her hair and the safe, hard, sensuous strength of those powerful arms locking their bodies together. ‘That didn’t mean a thing!’ she protested. ‘You know very well why we spent the night together—because I was scared, that was all!’

  ‘To begin with, I’ll grant you. But it wasn’t just out of fear that you invited me to stay.’ Contemptuously he held her eyes. ‘I got the distinct impression that you quite enjoyed sharing a bed with me.’

  The barb was rather close to the truth for comfort. Olivia’s fists clenched in self-defence. ‘Did you?’ she flung at him, determined to meet scorn with scorn. ‘Well, not quite enough, I’m afraid, to want to make a habit of it! So sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid your fatal charm didn’t quite work last night!’

  She should not have said that. Matthew was in no mood for flippant gibes. Before she knew what was happening, he had reached out and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her bodily from the sofa, spinning her round roughly so that her body was jammed against his. ‘Don’t play games!’ he ground at her. ‘I’ve already had more than enough of your games! Over the past few weeks, since we got back from Paris, I’ve been more than patient with you. I didn’t say a thing when you kept hiding yourself away in that damned spare room every time I walked through the door. But don’t expect my patience to endure much longer. You’re my wife, remember. It’s time you realised the full implications of that and started behaving accordingly!’

  ‘Or what?’ she demanded. ‘Are you threatening me again?’

  Matthew did not answer, just looked at her with granite hazel eyes as, angrily, she struggled to free herself from his grip on her arm.

  ‘Why won’t you get it into your head that you’re wasting your time?’ she seethed. ‘Just because we made a deal that involved marriage, am I supposed to make my body available to you? Am I supposed to behave like some kind of whore?’