She walked slowly towards him, unaware of her own soothing grace, but totally aware of his intent eyes, stopping right in front of him.
'You look tired,' she said gently, reaching up and touching the hard bones of his face, her soft eyes brilliant, in the stark light that flooded the room.
'Oh, Jassy,' he groaned softly, ignoring her remark, still staring down at her with devouring eyes. He swung her into his arms, his hand tilting her small face to receive his deep, hungry kiss.
She clung to him, returning that kiss with a passion that she had not known existed inside herself, her arms tight around his neck as she recognised his fierce need and her own longing to assuage it.
'I've been waiting for you,' he said simply, not letting her go.
'I know, Roxanne told me,' Jassy replied, her eyes drowsy as she looked at him.
He buried his face against her neck, breathing deeply. 'You smell beautiful, he muttered softly, laughing deep in his throat at her shivering response.
She pushed at his wide shoulders, laughter bubbling inside her.
'Where are Roxanne and Tomas?' she asked curiously. The house seemed empty.
'They've taken Rafael and gone out, to leave us alone together,' Max explained, with a wicked glint in his eye.
'They're so kind,' Jassy sighed, wishing that there was some way she could repay them for all they had done.
Max nodded, reaching into the pocket of his shirt and pulling out a small black box. He handed it to her.
'What is it? Is it for me?' she asked excitedly.
'Open it and see.' His eyes rested indulgently on her as she examined the small box. It bore, in gold letters, the name and address of a famous New York jewellers, obviously very exclusive. She flipped back the lid, gasping at what lay inside, nestling against dark velvet. It was a diamond engagement ring, One huge flawless stone set in a simple band of gold.
Her eyes filled with tears of pure happiness, the diamond dissolving into a thousand rainbow pieces as she looked at it. Max took the ring from her trembling fingers and slipped it on to her wedding finger. It fitted perfectly.
'You're very quiet, don't you like it?' he teased her gently. Jassy stared down at her hand, the ring felt cold and heavy and beautiful against her skin, a mark of his possession.
'It's beautiful,' she whispered. 'Quite beautiful.' She lifted her golden head to kiss him, moving her lips shyly against his mouth, until his arms tightened around her and she was carried away on the tide of his fierce desire.
Finally, reluctantly, he let her go, staring down at her with dark, disturbing eyes, his breathing forced and shallow.
'There's a lot to talk about, a lot to be planned,' he said unevenly, lighting a cigarette with practised ease and offering her one which she refused. He drew deeply on the cigarette.
'I'm too old for you, Jassy,' he said suddenly. 'Too goddamned old! If you ever. .. .'
She stopped him mid-word, closing his mouth with her own in a brief kiss.
'No, don't talk like that. You're not too old for me—how could you be?' she asked wonderingly. Then a remembered question popped into her mind. 'Last night, when I collided with you outside the hotel, why were you there?'
Max smiled. 'I was coming to see you. After you'd gone I realised that I couldn't leave you alone with him,' he admitted wryly.
'Oh, I see.' Jassy digested this with a warm glow around her heart. 'I was unfair to you last night, the things I said about the way you treated Morgan. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of them.' She was anxious to apologise, because her unjust words had been preying on her mind.
'You were upset—it doesn't matter,' Max said gently, kissing her sad mouth thoroughly.
They spent the afternoon making plans. Max prepared a late lunch for them both, of cold meat and cheese and crusty bread, washed down with wine and followed by fresh fruit.
They ate outdoors, both hungry, talking all the while. Max intended to get a special licence and they would be married in London as soon as possible.
Jassy's head was whirling as everything was sorted out, precisely and quickly, by Max. Until they flew back to London, Jassy would stay with Roxanne and Tomas.
Late in the afternoon, they went for a swim, lazily happy to be together, and when Roxanne and Tomas returned for dinner, Max told them of the forthcoming wedding. They were thrilled.
'I'm so very happy for you both,' Roxanne said huskily. 'I knew you were the one, Jassy, when he first talked of you. Max has waited a long time for the right woman, I'm glad it's you.'.
Jassy felt deeply touched by Roxanne's words. 'Thank you, and I can't imagine a nicer sister-in- law than you,' she answered sincerely.
Dinner was a celebration. Tomas produced champagne and Jassy and Roxanne prepared a special meal which they ate in the open air, by candlelight. By the time Max left it was very late, and Jassy was sleepy and a little intoxicated with all the champage she had drunk.
Max held her in his arms, his green eyes dark and regretful as they parted, and kissed her with hungry tenderness, his warm sensual mouth playing havoc with her senses. Then he was gone and Jassy went to bed, drifting easily into sleep, happier than she had ever been in her life.
Max had business to attend to the following day and Jassy arranged to meet him for dinner. Roxanne was going into the city and asked Jassy to go with her. Jassy agreed readily, it would give her a good opportunity to do some shopping for her wedding.
When her mother had died, she had left Jassy some money, quite a sizeable amount which Jassy had been saving for just such an occasion. She intended using it now, to buy everything she needed, the only problem being that the money was in her London bank account. Roxanne once again came to the rescue.
'I have an account here, and I can lend you the money,' she said, as soon as she heard Jassy's problem.
'Would you? I can give you a cheque now,' Jassy said excitedly, pleased with such luck, and such kindness.
Roxanne was not worried about the cheque, so Jassy had to insist. They drove down the coast to the city in Roxanne's small car, with Jassy sitting in the back holding a sleepy Rafael. Roxanne did not believe in having a nanny for her child—probably, as she explained, because she and Max had never had a mother of their own, and Jassy agreed.
Jassy looked at the tiny child in her arms with wonder. Perhaps one day she would have a child like Rafael, Max's child. Small and dark, with those remarkable green eyes—the very thought was so beautiful that it was almost painful.
Parking the car, they decided to go for coffee before starting their shopping. The small restaurant that Roxanne chose was in a large square, lush with palm trees and brilliant tropical vegetation. The outdoor tables were shaded with bright parasols and Jassy looked around with curiosity as Roxanne ordered two coffees and milk for Rafael, her interest caught by the small kiosks around the edge of the square that were filled with bright postcards and local craftwork. Their coffee arrived almost immediately, the dark young waiter murmuring something in Spanish to Jassy. She did not understand what he said, so smiled at him blandly.
'He was admiring your hair,' Roxanne said wryly, as they were left alone. Jassy shrugged, uncaringly, and glanced down into the fold-up pram beside Roxanne. Rafael was gurgling happily, his tiny brown feet kicking in the air.
'You're so lucky, Roxanne,' she said enviously. 'Rafael is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen.'
'You won't think that when you have your own,' Roxanne laughed, wisely. 'He's not all beauty, I can assure you. Sometimes he's the devil himself!' Her face was tender, though, as she lifted the baby from the pram and gave him his milk.
'How long have you been married?' Jassy asked, watching the other woman's gentleness with her child, her heart melting.
'Three years. I met Tomas at a party Max threw in New York, it was love at first sight.' Her face was dreamy with reminiscence. 'He was so different from any of the men I'd met before, so charming and gallant. American men are definitely lacking in that quarter!' s
he finished with a laugh.
'Except Max,' Jassy added.
'Max is an exception, and let's face it, we're both prejudiced.' They smiled at each other over their coffee cups. .
'I'm going to see Morgan—that's my stepfather— this afternoon,' Jassy suddenly confided, her face sobering.
'Do you think that's wise?' Roxanne asked quietly, her face concerned.
Jassy frowned. 'I don't know, but I feel I have to see him again—just one last time, if that's what he wants, to try and explain why I couldn't marry Rene.' She sighed at the enormity of this task, and Roxanne squeezed her arm comfortingly.
'Shall I come with you?'
'Thanks for offering, but no.' All at once, Jassy wanted to confide in Roxanne, to tell her everything.
'Did Max tell you about the row with Morgan?' Roxanne shook her head. 'It was dreadful.' Even now the thought of it made Jassy shudder, as she briefly explained the events leading up to it. 'I've known him all my life, you see, and in his own way, I think he has tried to be a father to me. That's why I feel I must see him,' she finished, pleading for the other woman's understanding.
Roxanne gave a low, unladylike whistle of pure astonishment.
'I think we need some more coffee,' she said firmly, attracting the waiter's attention and ordering some.
Staring at Jassy, she asked, 'Would he really have forced you into this marriage?'
Jassy lowered her head. 'I thought not, until the day before yesterday. He was pushing for it, of course, I knew that. We'd argued about it many times. He'd make little plans to push us together, like inviting Pierre and Rene for dinner, then leaving us alone while he and Pierre talked business, that sort of thing.'
'You don't feel anything for Rene?' Roxanne asked.
'I liked him,'Jassy replied honestly. 'I thought we were two of a kind, but since we've been here, he's made it clear that he would be in favour of the marriage—which came as a shock—we'd always joked about it before. And I've seen a sullen, hard side to him that I never saw before,' she sighed. 'It would seem as though I've been living in a dream world all my life. Morgan, Rene—how could I have been so wrong?'
'We all make mistakes about people, Jassy, especially those close to us. Sometimes it takes a bystander, a person from outside the circle, to put things into perspective,' Roxanne said gently.
'Max?' Jassy smiled.
'Right. I understand how you feel about your stepfather. It would be impossible for you to cut him out of your life without a backward glance, whatever he's done.' Roxanne was very sweet and sympathetic.
'The trouble is that I feel as though I'm going to see a stranger, a Morgan I don't know at all. Oh what a mess! I'm so sorry for dragging you and Tomas into it all. I'm glad we're going to be friends, though,' she added sincerely.
'I'm glad too. I always prayed that I would be friends with Max's wife, and now my prayers are answered,' Roxanne said seriously. 'We'd better make a start on this shopping, or we'll never be through!'
After lunch, Roxanne dropped Jassy off at Morgan's hotel, on her way back to the villa.
The morning's shopping had been extremely successful and Jassy had acquired a complete new wardrobe—her trousseau, Roxanne had sternly informed her! She had also bought a present for Max, a black silk dressing gown, and a gold necklace for Roxanne.
She had known, the moment she saw the dressing gown, that it was for Max. The shop assistant had wrapped it elegantly for her, as Jassy had wondered when she would give it to him.
It had occurred to her then that she had no idea when his birthday was. This lack of knowledge had triggered off a strange sensation of panic as she had counted out the money from her purse, for the gift. I know nothing about him, and yet I'm going to marry him next week, she had thought frantically.
But at that moment' Roxanne had diverted her attention and her fear had passed. As she stood outside the hotel, now, trying to pluck up the courage to go in, she remembered that moment of blind panic, and it halted her for a second. I love Max, she told herself desperately, bringing to mind his lean face and the desire she always felt in his arms, the fierce emotion he always aroused in her. Yes, I love him, time doesn't matter. I'll soon find out all the small details about him.
Reassured, she walked through the foyer of the hotel to the lifts. She had considered telephoning before arriving, but something inside her had held back. She would go straight to her stepfather's suite and ask if he would see her.
She did not want to give him time to brood, to think up any of his clever schemes. Please God, don't let Rene or Pierre be here, she thought, crossing her fingers as she reached the door and knocked tentatively. No answer. Just my luck to call when he's out, she thought irritably, her nerves feeling as taut as violin strings.
She knocked again, louder. 'Come in,' Morgan barked from within.
He sounded annoyed, but it was too late to back out now, so with legs that trembled violently Jassy opened the door and walked inside.
Morgan was sitting at the desk, a cigar smouldering in the ashtray at his side, as he leafed through a thick sheaf of papers. He did not look up.
'Hello, Morgan, can I come in?' she asked quietly, her heart beating so loud that she felt sure he would hear it, and she would give herself away. On no account would she let him see how he intimidated her. That was his strength, and she had no intention of handing herself to him on a plate, to be bullied into submission.
He looked up slowly, his light eyes skimming over her without warmth.
'So,' he said arrogantly, 'you've come to your senses at last.'
Jassy sighed. This was not going to be easy, although she had never imagined it would be.
'Can we talk?' she asked, ignoring his ridiculous remark.
'There's nothing to talk about. Your room is as you left it. You can arrange dinner with Rene tonight, and ask him to forgive you for. . . .'
'Morgan, please! I'm not coming back here. I came ... I came to try and improve things between us,' she said beseechingly, trying to quell the faint prickle of anger that his words had aroused. Ask Rene to forgive her, indeed! She had done nothing wrong. If he and her stepfather had jumped to all sorts of conclusions, then that was hardly her fault.
Morgan was staring at her as though she had gone stark, staring mad.
'If you don't intend coming back here, or marrying Rene, how the hell do you expect to improve things between us?' he asked, cruelly mimicking her words.
'I don't love Rene. Surely you wouldn't force me into a loveless marriage?'Jassy cried, stung.
Morgan shrugged uncaringly. 'Force? Loveless marriage? You talk like an empty-headed schoolgirl,' he said coldly. 'Rene would make you a good husband.'
'Good for you maybe, but not for me,' Jassy cut in heatedly, only just keeping a rein on her temper.
They were at each other's throats already, and there seemed no hope of reconciliation. She could not understand Morgan's attitude at all. Was this terrible anger because she had defied him, or did it have something to do with Max, or Rene? It was totally beyond her.
She had to make one last effort. Taking a deep breath, she said,
'Please try to understand, Morgan. I love Max and I'm going to marry him. I care for you too and I can't bear this bitterness. I can't marry Rene, even for you, it would be immoral, you must see that.' Oh dear, she thought, I'm making a terrible mess of this. I should have planned what I was going to say beforehand. It was so unnerving, though. She glanced apprehensively at her stepfather. A dull red anger suffused his face. He was furious.
'I see no such thing,' he snapped. 'What I do see is an ungrateful little bitch. I fed you, clothed you, took you in and gave you the sort of life that most girls your age would give their right arm for. I gave you everything and this is how you repay me. Presumably, you're still too damned naive to see the true reason behind Bellmer's proposal, but if you think I'm going to sit back without a fight, you're mistaken. I'll make life difficult for you, Jassy, and when you fall fl
at on your face, don't expect me to pick you up!'
'Morgan . . . please. . . .' Her eyes pleaded with him, terribly hurt, but he did not even look at her.
'Collect your things.' He indicated the bedroom with a dismissive wave of his hand. 'And go. I never want to see you again, is that clear?'
CHAPTER SEVEN
A WEEK later in England, Jassy sat beside Max in his car as it sped out of the London traffic towards the country and his home.
She relaxed against the plush black leather, feeling numb and very cold. They had not spoken since leaving the small wedding reception and she glanced covertly at the man beside her, a tremor running through her as she did so. Formal and remote in the expensively-cut dark suit he had worn for the ceremony, he was a stranger to her, a powerful, beautiful, frightening stranger, and she felt dizzy to think that she was his wife.
The heavy gold band on her finger seemed to weigh a ton and she twisted it nervously, as if trying to remove it.
Max caught her jerky actions in the corner of his eye, turning to flash her an inscrutable look from beneath heavy eyelids. His mouth twisted.
'Too late for second thoughts,' he said expressionlessly, as if he sensed that something was wrong, his voice shivering down her spine.
She did not answer, turning her face away to stare out of the window. How very true, she thought bitterly, consciously keeping her hands still, not' wanting to attract his attention in any way.
She had been so happy until this morning. The past week had flashed by in a whirl of breathless preparations, and there had not been a moment to think about what she was going to do. Oh no, Max had given her no time for doubts, she thought wearily, unable to stop herself shifting restlessly in the soft seat, her gentle brown eyes moving blindly over the expensive interior of the black Mercedes.
There had been so much to do, the flight back to England to be arranged, plans for the wedding, shopping expeditions and Max had been with her all the time, taking over her life, arranging everything. They had dinner together every evening. Jassy had sat opposite to him, sipping the wine that eased her inner turmoil, mesmerised by the green glitter of his eyes, until nothing had mattered except being with him.
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