by Sara Craven
Because he was there. Standing at the head of the terrace steps, his dark figure looking as if it had been carved from obsidian. Standing between her and the house like the interloper he was.
She could hardly ignore him, and she certainly couldn’t run, so she began slowly to walk back towards him. And saw him, equally unhurriedly, descend the steps and move towards her. Meeting her halfway, she thought shakily.
They halted a few yards from each other, like opponents in a duel. He was wearing black trousers that moulded his long legs and a matching cotton shirt, the cuffs rolled back to reveal tanned forearms. His eyes were narrowed and slightly wary.
He said unsmilingly, ‘Good morning. I saw you from my window.’
‘At this hour?’ Paige mimicked astonishment, wondering if this meant he hadn’t passed a particularly restful night either, and deriving a kind of jaundiced satisfaction from the possibility. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Spying on me, Mr Destry?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Afraid I was going to throw myself into the lake and drown?’
‘Neither.’ She saw the firm mouth tighten. ‘I merely thought this might be a convenient opportunity for us to talk.’
She said crisply, ‘What is there to talk about? I’m sure my father told you last night that it’s a done deal. That I’ve agreed to accept your—obscene proposition.’
There was a loaded silence, then he said, too gently, ‘There’s an easy way to do this, Miss Harrington, and a hard way. I suggest you choose your option carefully.’ He paused. ‘After all, I didn’t formulate the rules of the Harrington board. Your great-grandfather was the one who left us both stranded between a rock and a hard place.’
She said stormily, ‘Don’t you dare say one word against Crispin. He had vision—and integrity. Something moneymen like you can only aspire to.’
His mouth curled. ‘And if old Crispin was standing here at this moment, Miss Harrington, how do you think he’d like the way his company has been run lately? I don’t think “vision” or “integrity” are the words I’d pick.’ He looked her over contemptuously. ‘And let me remind you that without the intervention of this particular money man, these glorious surroundings you’re enjoying would probably be going under the hammer.’
The sunny morning blurred suddenly, and Paige looked down at the flagged path, biting her lip hard.
She was aware of movement, his hand reaching out to her, and recoiled instinctively, terrified that he was going to touch her. Because the memory of what the mere brush of his fingers could do was all too potent. And if he touched her again, she thought wildly, she would burn. She might bleed. And the risk was just too great.
As their eyes met she saw his flare with astonishment and anger. Then he took a step back, thrusting his hands into his pockets with almost mocking emphasis.
He said, ‘Feel safer now?’
Fighting to regain her self control, Paige did not answer.
After a moment, he said more quietly, ‘I was only going to offer you a handkerchief. And an apology.’ He threw his head back. ‘I was too harsh just now, maybe, but I felt a note of realism was needed. The fact is no one’s going to offer Harringtons the kind of investment it needs without strings. And I felt from the start that direct supervision was essential—which meant a seat on the board.’ He shrugged. ‘Unfortunately for us both, there was only one way to achieve that.’
She said, ‘So it was your idea.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘But I won’t apologise for that. Because if Harringtons is to survive there’s really no alternative. Maitland Destry turned out to be the Last Chance Saloon.’
She winced. ‘Thank you,’ she said with irony, ‘for making everything so clear.’
‘Then let me clarify something else,’ he came back at her. ‘With a little mutual goodwill we can get through this without permanent damage. But we both have to work at it.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I—I can see that.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s just that you’re the last person in the world…’ And faltered into silence under his sardonic glance.
He said levelly, ‘Just try and remember it’s not personal—it’s strictly business.’ His mouth twisted. ‘To coin a phrase.’
‘Yes.’ Paige drew a deep breath. ‘Well, if that’s all you wanted to say, I’ll get back to the house.’
He said slowly, ‘I thought perhaps we could drop the confrontation—try to get to know each other a little.’
Paige shrugged. ‘I don’t see the need. As long as you recognise me at the ceremony itself, that’s all that matters.’
Nick Destry sighed with exasperation. ‘You really won’t give an inch, will you, Miss Harrington? I understand how you must hate the feeling you’ve been—sold off, but…’
‘But I’m not for sale, Mr Destry,’ Paige said, swiftly and sharply. ‘I’m strictly on loan. You get your seat on the board, and I get the quickest divorce in the history of the world.’
He said softly, ‘Now that’s what I call forward planning. Maybe you should be running Harringtons instead of your brother.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I’m quite happy with the status quo, thanks.’
‘Well, I’m not.’ His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘I foresee lively times ahead.’
She walked past him and went up the steps of the terrace, her skin tingling under the certainty that he was still watching her. Forbidding herself to look back to check.
A simple deal, she asked herself shakily. Somehow I don’t think so. Dear God, what have I got myself into?
She went straight to her room, and remained there until she heard the breakfast gong. Toby waylaid her outside the dining room.
‘Sis—I can’t thank you enough…’
‘Don’t be too grateful.’ Paige cut him short. ‘I suspect we may have taken on more trouble than we ever dreamed of.’
He snorted. ‘Destry’s going to find he’s a lone voice. Nothing’s ever going to make him a Harrington, after all, and he’s never been up against the whole family.’ He smiled confidently. ‘He can be sidelined.’
‘Really?’ Paige raised her eyebrows. ‘You think Great-Uncle James or Cousin Roger and his nonentity of a wife are going to range themselves with you against the money? I wouldn’t count on it.’ She paused. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t count on anything.’
Nick was already at the table when she went in, eating bacon and scrambled eggs. He rose politely, holding the chair next to him for her, and with a murmured word of thanks she slid into it, aware of the searching glance he sent her.
‘Well, you’re a sly pair,’ said Denise, busy pouring coffee. ‘I really thought you’d only just met and Paige couldn’t stand you.’ She giggled, oblivious to Toby’s furious glare. ‘And it was only a lovers’ tiff all along. Imagine.’
‘Almost beyond belief,’ Nick agreed gravely, his lower lip twitching very slightly.
Paige, shocked to find she wanted to laugh too, took a hasty sip of orange juice instead.
‘I suppose the wedding will be in London,’ Denise went on encouragingly, but Nick shook his head.
‘I’m sure Paige will want to be married from her family home,’ he said firmly. ‘And at the village church. We’ll arrange a time for next week with the vicar. Friday, perhaps.’
All eating stopped. Francis Harrington said, ‘Isn’t that something of a rush, my boy? A wedding takes a hell of a lot of organising.’
‘Not with a special licence and no fuss.’ Nick reached for the toast rack. ‘Paige and I want a very quiet affair, don’t we, darling? Now that I’ve finally got her to say yes, I really don’t want to wait any longer.’
He smiled at her, and she tried and failed to make her facial muscles respond. She knew, too, that if she tried to say something only a strangled squeak would emerge.
‘We thought—just immediate family,’ Nick went on, buttering his toast. ‘Apart from my best man, my only guest will be my grandmother.’
Denise’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Won’t your paren
ts be coming?’
‘Unfortunately, no,’ he said courteously. ‘They both died a few years ago in one of those freak accidents only a few hundred yards away from home. A child ran into the road and my mother, who was driving, swerved to avoid him and hit a tree.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Denise looked accusingly at her sister-in-law. ‘Paige—you should have told us.’
Paige looked down at her plate. ‘Yes,’ she said woodenly. ‘I’m—sorry.’
She meant it. There’d been a flatness in his voice as he’d told the story which suggested there was a residue of grief not yet dealt with. It made him seem suddenly uncomfortably human. And that wasn’t what she wanted. Hatred needed feeding.
‘Does your grandmother live in London?’ Toby asked.
‘Not any more. She’s always hated cities, and when my grandfather died she moved back to the little village in Normandy where she was born.’
He took Paige’s hand, and she had to fight with herself not to snatch it away. He said softly, ‘She’ll be delighted to hear our news, darling. She’s always telling me that it’s high time I settled down.’
‘So you’re part French,’ Denise deduced brightly. ‘How intriguing.’
‘Oh, you don’t know the half of it,’ Paige told her with heavy irony, pushing away her untouched plate. ‘He’s just full of surprises.’
‘If you’ve finished breakfast, darling, perhaps we could walk down to the village now,’ Nick suggested, his fingers tightening in warning round hers. ‘See if the vicar’s at home and set the date.’
‘Now just a minute—’ Toby began, with a touch of aggression.
‘Is there a problem?’ Nick queried mildly, and Toby subsided.
‘No,’ he muttered. ‘You—go ahead. I just don’t want my sister to be rushed into anything—before she’s ready. That’s all.’
‘I think you’ll find she’s just as eager as I am.’ Nick slipped an arm round Paige’s rigid waist. ‘She’s already making all kinds of plans for the future—aren’t you, darling?’
Paige forced her lips into the semblance of a smile. ‘I can hardly wait, sweetest.’
She walked beside him in silence down the lane leading to the village, between verges heavy with cow parsley. The sun was gloriously warm on her back and the air was alive with the hum of bees and the distant growl of a tractor. It was an idyllic pastoral scene, yet Paige might as well have been walking into purgatory.
‘A perfect day,’ Nick commented at last.
‘We clearly have very different ideas on perfection,’ she said curtly.
‘Probably,’ he returned with equal sharpness. ‘But it would be good if we could bury our differences until after the wedding. Or this cover story of a whirlwind romance isn’t going to fool anyone.’
She bit her lip. ‘Is that what we’re telling people?’ Her voice was scornful. ‘That it was love at first sight?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? It happens.’ He paused. ‘And it’s better than the truth in this situation.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Paige objected.
‘Think.’ His tone bit. ‘The financial press will be featuring the fact that I’ve joined the Harrington board. That’s unavoidable. But any hint that it’s been done by way of an arranged marriage will have the tabloids crawling all over us. And none of us want that—personally or professionally.’
‘No,’ she allowed unwillingly. ‘But do you think we’ll really fool anyone?’
‘Not a soul,’ he said, ‘while you maintain your present attitude. And your brother doesn’t help either,’ he added with a touch of grimness. ‘Maybe you could remind him it’s a bit late to play the protective card where you’re concerned.’
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘In return, perhaps you could cut back on the endearments.’
‘They’re built into the script, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘And people not in on our guilty secret, like your sister-in-law, will expect something of the kind.’
‘I—suppose so.’ Paige shook her head despairingly. ‘Oh, God, it all gets worse and worse.’
He halted. Before she could take evasive action his hands gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him. The dark eyes were hard as they surveyed her flushed face.
‘It’s not too late,’ he told her harshly. ‘You don’t have to be a martyr to the Harrington cause if it’s really so repellent. You can still pull out.’
‘What about you?’ She wrenched herself free. ‘You could forego your seat on the board and still lend Harringtons the money.’
‘And give Brother Toby a blank cheque?’ he asked coldly. ‘Not a chance, sweetheart. I prefer to see where my money’s going.’
She stared at the ground. ‘I’ve given my word,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t back out. However much I might want to,’ she added defiantly.
‘A virgin sacrifice on the family altar,’ Nick said mockingly. ‘How incredibly noble. Or, should I say, amazingly venal.’
Paige gasped. She said chokingly, ‘You say that—you dare to say that to me?’
Her hand swung back to slap the derision from his face, but he forestalled her, his fingers closing implacably round her wrist, jerking her towards him.
For a moment she swayed, off-balance, and felt his arms close round her without gentleness. Felt the hardness of his body against hers.
He said, ‘You once offered me ten pounds for a kiss, darling. Well, have this one for free.’
Frightened, Paige put her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it was too late for that. The next second his mouth had taken hers. The kiss was unhurried, even calculating, but there was anger there, and insolence too.
It was being inflicted as punishment, and she knew it, but that made it no easier to endure, held helpless in the circle of his arms.
She made a small sound of protest in her throat and tried desperately to turn away. Begging wordlessly for her release.
Instead, Nick’s hand came up to cradle her head, and she felt his fingers twist in the silky strands of her hair, holding her still while his lips parted hers, so that he could invade the heated sweetness of her mouth with his tongue.
Suddenly she was swamped by a strange and dizzying intensity, carried away to a new and undreamed of dimension by the deepening intimacy of the kiss.
His mouth scorched like the sun. The fragrance of earth, grass and leaves seemed echoed in the scent of his skin. His body was quickening, unequivocally urgent against hers.
She was captive, in subjection to some deep primeval force she had never experienced before.
She was beyond reason or understanding, because behind her closed lids the world was spinning out of control. She was giddy—shaking—hardly able to breathe—her legs turning to water. Oblivious to everything but the dazed clamour of her senses.
And then, with the shock of a blow, it was over and she was free. Her eyes opened in bewilderment to find he’d stepped back, putting several feet of sunlit country road between them. She stared at him, struggling to think coherently, her hand going up instinctively to touch the newly swollen contours of her mouth.
‘Well, well,’ Nick said softly, eyes narrowed. ‘There’s never a convenient haystack when you want one.’ And he began to laugh.
It was like being doused with icy water.
Her voice shook, ‘You utter bastard. You imagine for one minute that I’d…that I’d let you…?’
‘Unfortunately, we’ll never know.’ He shrugged. ‘But at least you look more of a bride-to-be and less of a martyr, which should convince the vicar of our sincerity. Shall we go?’
She wanted to damn his eyes. To shriek that she wouldn’t walk as far as the next gateway with him.
Instead she heard herself saying hoarsely, ‘I want you to promise—to swear—that you’ll leave me alone from now on.’
‘Fine,’ he said equably. And paused. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Yes,’ she said fiercely. ‘Yes—it is.’
&nb
sp; ‘Although I suspect,’ he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘that you don’t even know what you want. Not any more. But that, my future wife, is your problem, not mine.’
And he turned away, walking towards the village, leaving her, reluctantly, to follow.
If she’d been hoping the vicar would declare the parish church booked for months and their marriage an impossibility, she was to be disappointed.
Reverend Winship, a quiet silver-haired man, was clearly surprised, but agreed that the ceremony could take place as soon as the special licence had been obtained.
‘Although I’m old-fashioned enough to prefer the banns to be called,’ he added wistfully. ‘I suppose you wouldn’t consider…?’
‘We’d prefer not to wait,’ Nick cut in swiftly. ‘Would we, darling?’
Paige stared down at the pattern on the carpet. ‘No,’ she said bleakly. ‘The sooner the better.’
‘Ah,’ Reverend Winship said tactfully, and left it at that.
‘My God,’ Paige said, appalled, when they got outside. ‘He must think I’m pregnant.’
‘Then he’ll know he’s wrong when we don’t book a christening,’ Nick returned indifferently.
‘But he’s known me all my life.’ She was suddenly absurdly close to tears. ‘I hate deceiving him—having him think badly of me. I’m going to feel such a hypocrite—standing in front of him pretending that I want to be married, when all the time…’
There was a silence, then he said quietly, ‘Let’s accept that it’s not what either of us would have chosen and leave it at that.’
‘Oh, that’s easy for you to say,’ she said savagely. ‘It’s not your life—or your reputation—in ruins.’
His mouth tightened. ‘You really think you’re the only one making a sacrifice, don’t you, lady? Well, take it from me, this bargain of ours is a two-edged sword. I also have a life.’
‘Well, please don’t change it on my account.’ Her tone was taut. ‘After all, we’re going to need grounds for the ultimate divorce.’
‘You mean you’re giving me permission to commit adultery?’ Nick jeered. ‘What would the vicar say if he could hear you now? In any case, forget it,’ he added harshly. ‘The terms are strictly two years’ separation. Neat, tidy and without scandal.’