The Millionaire's Marriage Demand

by Sandra Field

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Julie said.

  After refilling his coffee cup, Travis followed Charles to the library. His father closed the door, then took up a position in front of the hearth. He looked extremely ill at ease. Was he about to discuss changes in his will, changes that possibly disinherited his elder son? Financially Travis couldn’t care less; emotionally he cared quite a lot.

  He leaned against a leather wing chair. Nothing in the library had changed. The same prints on the walls, the same array of leatherbound and doubtless unread classics. He himself had discovered Kipling here, C.S. Lewis and Tolkien, all the heroes who had peopled his childhood. He said casually, “What’s on your mind, Dad?”

  Charles said pompously, “You must understand that your arrival last night was a shock to us all.”

  “I hope the shock wasn’t too unpleasant.”

  “I possibly said things I shouldn’t have, on the patio after dinner,” Charles labored on. “I apologize for that.”

  It was more than Travis had expected. He said warmly, more than willing to meet his father half way, “You’re forgiven.”

  Staring fixedly at the door behind his son’s back, Charles said, “A reconciliation is, of course, what we all want. You’re right, the past is the past and should be forgotten. Bygones be bygones. The hatchet buried.”

  Charles had always favored clichés. “I’m very willing to do that,” Travis said, trying to disguise the fact that he was inwardly puzzled. This was all too easy. Had Charles really had such a huge change of heart overnight?

  “That disgraceful media attack, the ring… water under the bridge.”

  “I’ve often regretted that I went to the papers. It was the action of an adolescent, that’s all I can say. I wouldn’t handle it that way now.”

  “Yes, yes,” Charles said impatiently.

  But Travis hadn’t finished. His voice rough with the intensity of his feelings, he said, “As for the ring, I swear I didn’t take it.”

  “Never mind the ring, I don’t really miss it anymore. So everything’s forgiven and forgotten and now you can leave Portland right away. No reason to hang around. You’ve done what you set out to do.”

  Looking rather pleased with himself, Charles bounced up and down on the soles of his handmade Italian loafers. “Leave Portland?” Travis repeated.

  “Well yes. Of course. Why would you stay in a little backwater town like Portland?” Charles said bluffly. “I’m sure you’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ve read about you over the years, some of your successes in establishing new hospitals and revitalizing old ones in all those third world countries. Very important work, Travis. Vital. I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to it. I can understand you might have thought it would take all summer to soften my attitude, and that’s why you allowed two months.” He gave a hearty laugh. “I’ve taken you by surprise, haven’t I? You thought I’d be much more adamant.”

  “I did, yes.” Thinking furiously, Travis said, “I’m very glad we’re having this conversation, and I look forward to many more. But I can’t leave Portland right away—I made a commitment to Mark and his family.”

  “You can’t leave? Of course you can.”

  Julie was also living in Portland, at least temporarily, Julie and he had some unfinished business. Travis said easily, “I’ll be gone by the first of September.”

  “Get someone else to fill in for your friend!”

  “What’s the rush, Dad? If you’ve really forgiven me, why wouldn’t you want to spend some time with me?”

  “Your stepmother and I are going to be exceptionally busy this summer. We may even go away for a month or more… perhaps you could come to Boston for Christmas.”

  “Perhaps I could.” Although he’d long hated the luxurious mansion in Back Bay. “Let’s play it by ear… there’s been a big gap in our relationship, and we can’t patch it up overnight.”

  “So you’ll leave Portland?” Charles said eagerly.

  “I’ve explained why I can’t do that right away.”

  Charles pursed his lips. “I’m asking a favor of you, Travis. Surely after all these years, you can do one small thing for me. Find a substitute—there must be lots of doctors who’d be happy to spend the rest of the summer in Maine.”

  “If I understood why you want me to leave, I might be more open to doing so.”

  With vicious emphasis, Charles said, “Why was your favorite word as a little boy. You could never accept anything at face value, you always had to be poking and prying for reasons. You haven’t changed, Travis, you’re just the same as you always were.”

  So the forgiveness was only skin deep. Travis said carefully, “I’ll be talking to Mark next week, I’ll see what he says. It’s the best I can do.”

  “It’s little enough,” Charles huffed. “And now I must go and change if I’m to meet Julie.” He gave his son a sharp nod. “Take my advice—call Mark as soon as possible.”

  He marched past Travis and shut the door behind him with unnecessary force. Travis gazed after him unseeingly. What was going on? And what was he missing? Had that been Charles’s inept attempt at a genuine reconciliation? Or had it been fake from the start?

  But why?

  Which was indeed one of his favorite words, he thought wryly. Why would Charles want him to leave Portland tomorrow?

  And why was Julie the main reason he didn’t want to?

  CHAPTER SIX

  At seven-thirty that evening, Travis straightened his tie in the bathroom minor, adjusted his tuxedo jacket and knew he couldn’t delay going downstairs any longer. He’d faced guerillas, epidemics, droughts and floods the last few years. And now he was scared of a crowd of his father’s friends?

  Put it any way you like, he wasn’t looking forward to the evening. Too many people, too many of whom would be less than delighted to see him, coupled with the necessity to behave as though there really had been a reconciliation between himself and his father.

  If he’d wanted to be an actor, he wouldn’t have gone to medical school.

  Not for the first time, he wished his sister Jenessa was here as well. Although he hadn’t seen a lot of her since he’d turned sixteen, he’d made a point of staying in touch with her. Beautiful, wayward and artistic, Jenessa was gradually making a name for herself among the galleries and collectors that mattered; Travis had always admired her fierce determination to go her own way. Right now, he could have done with her moral support.

  Resolutely Travis left his room and ran down the curved staircase. All afternoon the guests had been arriving in their yachts, cabin cruisers and private seaplanes. Now the party eddied among the tents set up on the lawn, each lit by tiny white lights that glimmered like fireflies. There were enough potted plants to stock every flower shop in New York, and enough jewels on the women to buy the White House. He made his way to the main tent, stopping to talk to people on the way, ironically amused to note those of his father’s friends who turned their backs before he could speak to them.

  Bankers and stockbrokers tended to have long memories: they wouldn’t have forgotten or forgiven that long-ago newspaper article. He sighted Brent at the bar with a blond in a dress that highlighted at least two of her obvious assets, and looked around for Julie. His gaze sharpened as he saw her among a crowd of younger guests at the far end of the lawn, as far from Brent as she could get. She hadn’t seen him. He moved closer, his heart thudding over the sound of the band.

  Her dress was of raw Thai silk, slit to the knee, its simple lines and thin straps elegant rather than overtly provocative, its subtle blending of blues and greens emphasizing her eyes. A delicate gauze scarf floated from the neckline, her shoulders gleaming through its soft folds. Brazilian crystal shimmered around her throat and at her lobes.

  He had to have her. He had to.

  But not here. Not now. Later.

  The words had come unbidden. But every nerve in Travis’s body told him they were true. He’d never in his life desired a wo
man so imperatively, with such fierce impatience.

  He turned away, going back to the main tent, where he joined Charles and Corinne for a celebratory glass of champagne, danced with Corinne and a couple of her friends, and ate supper with the old family doctor and his wife, long allies of his. It was dark by the time he went in search of Julie.

  She was dancing to some raucous rock and roll in the tent closest to the water. Slim and lissome, her hips moving with a sensuality that caught at his throat, she looked as though she was having a wonderful time. Her partner was a tall, bearded young man. Not for long, Travis thought, waiting until the song ended before heading for the dance floor. He came up behind her and looped an arm around her waist. “Hello, Julie.”

  A tremor ran through her body; she froze in the circle of his arm. Then she turned as awkwardly as a puppet. “Travis,” she mumbled. With an obvious effort she added, “Do you know these people?”

  The tall young man’s name was Michael, and his plump pretty wife was called Kathy. “The next dance is mine,” Travis said.

  The music had started again. Under cover of the bass Julie hissed, “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  She hadn’t meant her ill temper to show. But all evening she’d been waiting for him to find her, catching occasional glimpses of him, furious that he should so cavalierly ignore her. Travis said abruptly, “You’re right, we don’t need to dance. Do you want something to eat?”

  “I’ve already eaten.”

  “Let’s go for a walk down by the water.”

  “You ignore me all evening and now I’m supposed to jump ten feet high the minute you say so? I don’t think so.”

  “Julie,” he said, “I’ve danced with Corinne, I made a speech that was a miracle of diplomacy when they toasted my father, I’ve been snubbed by two-thirds of his friends, and I need ten minutes away from it all.” He’d also been publicly hugged by Charles, briefly, but nonetheless an embrace. One Brent had witnessed, he thought with a quiver of unease.

  Julie looked up at him more closely. There were lines of strain bracketing his mouth and his eyes looked dark and depthless. Suddenly she was tired of deception. “Last night I was on my balcony when you and your family came out on the patio. I overheard everything that was said, from the death of your mother to the disappearance of the family ring.”

  Travis looked down at her, his jawline hard with tension. He’d always guarded his privacy: a strategy that had served him well over the years. He didn’t like Julie knowing all the Strathem secrets; other than Bryce, no one knew about his past. “Do you make a habit of listening to other people’s conversations?” he rasped.

  She tilted her chin. “Sure… it’s how I get my kicks.”

  Travis disliked subservient women; he didn’t have a worry in the world about Julie. “My father, for some unknown reason, wants me to leave Portland within the week.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “No,” Travis said. “I’m not much good at doing what I’m told. I’ll stay until the end of the summer.”

  Julie looked at him in silence. Portland was a small city. Too small for both of them; she herself had signed a three-month contract. She said, “I can’t go for a walk with you right now. I promised Kathy and Michael I’d go with them when she feeds the baby… I went to school with her and Michael, and she’s dying to show off her daughter. Oh, she’s waving at me now.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Travis said.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Hey, Julie,” Kathy said. “The sitter just called on the cell phone, Andrea’s awake. Travis, do you want to see our new addition? Three months old tomorrow.”

  “Sure,” he said easily, and tucked Julie’s hand in his arm. “Let’s go.”

  Julie’s feet were killing her in her new silver sandals, and she felt thoroughly out of sorts. She also felt as lustful as a stray cat under a full moon. She walked across the grass toward the castle, trying to keep as far from Travis as she could, every fiber in her body aware of his long, easy stride. If only he wasn’t so tall, so male, so damnably handsome. When she added to that a velvet-soft evening filled with the scent of roses and the tumble of waves on the beach, she was done for.

  The baby was in a crib in a bedroom on the ground floor, where a lamp threw golden light over the furniture. Kathy picked her daughter up, while Michael went with the sitter to the nearby kitchen to heat a bottle. “Here, Julie, hold Andrea for a minute,” Kathy said. “I’ve got to dig out a clean diaper.”

  The baby was thrust into Julie’s arms. Instinctively she cupped the little head with its dark fuzz of hair to her shoulder, supporting the baby’s spine with her other hand. The warmth of the small body, and Andrea’s fretful whimpering filled her with a deep tenderness.

  Travis had stationed himself by the door, his eyes glued to the woman holding the baby, his heart beating like a triphammer. If he’d had a camera, he’d have taken a photo of her: Woman with Child. But why did he need a camera? Wasn’t her image engraved on his mind?

  How little he really knew about her! About her dreams and desires, the betrayals of her past and her needs. He’d always thought of himself as reasonably astute. But she was an enigma.

  As though the intensity of Travis’s gaze was a pull she couldn’t gainsay, Julie glanced up. His eyes seemed to see right into her soul. She held Andrea a little more tightly, trying desperately to look anywhere but at him. And failed.

  “Put her down on the bed, Julie,” Kathy said. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “Oh… yes, I’m fine,” Julie stumbled, and laid the baby on the flannel blanket. Her arms felt empty, her body cold. Warm me, Travis, she thought, warm me.

  Knowing she had no choice, she crossed the room toward him. As he put an arm around her shoulders, she leaned into his body, into its solidity and heat, closing her eyes. She couldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

  Why would she want to cry? Travis was a stranger, chance-met, soon to be gone from her life.

  Travis said softly, “Hold still, the baby dribbled on your shoulder.” Gently he started scrubbing at her gauze scarf where it rested on her bare skin, using a tissue he’d taken from his pocket.

  Why couldn’t she have him? What was to stop her?

  The thought had dropped into her mind without any warning. Calling on every ounce of her resolve, Julie straightened, pulling away from him. “Thanks,” she said briefly. “Kathy, we’ll leave you to it. I’m so glad we met this evening, let’s get together in the next couple of weeks.”

  “Our number’s in the book. Give us a call.” Kathy chuckled. “Just not too early in the morning.”

  “She’s a lovely baby,” Julie said sincerely. “Ready, Travis?”

  She walked out of the room ahead of him, her spine very straight. She had no idea how to find her room from here. But find it she had to. And alone.

  As they walked back out into the garden, Travis said, “So what was that all about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You almost ran into my arms. Then you backed off as if I were the devil himself.”

  “You see too much,” she said in an unfriendly voice. “I’m tired, and I’ve had more than enough of this party— I’m going to my room. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  They were standing in the shadows of the lilac bushes that, long ago, his mother had adored for their scent. One of his earliest memories was of her carrying an armload of purple blooms into the living room and arranging them in a deep copper bowl. Her long black hair had been pinned to her head in lustrous waves; as a little boy he’d likened them to the black sheen of the sea on a winter’s evening.

  With an effort Travis wrenched himself back to the present. He’d lost his mother. But he was damned if he was going to let Julie walk away from him as if he were nothing but a stick of furniture.

  He put his arms around her, pulling her into his body, and lowered his head to her shoulder, smoothing it with his mouth. Her skin was delicately scented
; her response quivered through her. He traced the rise of her shoulder to her neck, then dropped to find the pulse at the base of her throat: a pulse racing like that of a bird. And all the while his hands were molding the long curve of her spine all the way to the flare of her hips, learning her, memorizing her. Desire engulfed him, fierce and imperative.

  He raised his head to kiss her, unerringly finding her lips in the dark, teasing them open and plunging with his tongue. She was trembling very lightly in his embrace. Slow down, he thought, and with all his willpower gentled his kiss, searching out the sweetness of her mouth.

  She arched against him with a moan of surrender that filled Travis with exultation. Her hands were under his jacket, roaming the flat plane of his chest, fitting themselves to his rib cage, then pulling him closer until he was unutterably frustrated by the layers of clothing between his flesh and hers. “Julie,” he muttered against her mouth, “let’s go to my room. I want you in my bed.”

  She heard him from a long way away, through a haze of passion as vivid as sunset, as compelling as the tides of the sea. Compelling. Irresistible. She herself out of control in a way that was foreign to her.

  Out of control.

  She reared back, panic-stricken. She’d never felt this way with a man before; she’d always been able to call the shots. If she made love with Travis, all that would change. He’d have power over her. She knew it in her bones. Power over her forever.

  Joke, Julie. Make a joke of it. She said breathlessly, “Are you the college chemistry course that I missed? Your body plus my body, a good dose of lilacs as the catalyst, and an explosion’s guaranteed?”

  Travis cupped her face in his palms, his forefingers molding her cheekbones. “You can skip the lilacs.”