Claiming His Wedding Night

by Lee Wilkinson

  ‘Less than six months later, when he died, he made me his sole beneficiary, and that’s when I started to add to his business empire.’

  Though she knew Jared was a businessman born and bred, she had never thought of him as a wine-grower and, a little curious, she asked, ‘What made you decide to go into viniculture?’

  ‘My wife has always preferred the countryside and I wanted to have somewhere green and pleasant for her to live. The Napa Valley is beautiful, so it struck me as ideal.’

  Jared’s casual answer knocked Perdita sideways and she found herself fighting for breath.

  When she could drag air into her lungs once more, she asked, ‘Then you’re married?’

  ‘Yes, I’m married.’

  She knew she ought to be glad, but instead that confirmation was like a knife turning in her heart. Momentarily swamped by the pain, she clenched her hands until the oval nails bit deep into her palms.

  Then, afraid he might pick up that fierce surge of emotion, she gritted her teeth and struggled hard for at least some degree of composure.

  ‘In view of that,’ he went on, ‘I’ve recently got disenchanted with travelling and having my life taken over by business interests.

  ‘I’ve some very good men working for me. So in the future I’m planning to delegate a lot of the running of the various companies and just keep a guiding hand on the reins.

  ‘At the same time, however, I wanted something interesting and congenial that would keep me occupied at home, so a vineyard seemed ideal.’

  When she felt she could trust her voice, she queried huskily, ‘Have you any children?’

  ‘No,’ he answered, his voice even. ‘Though one day I hope my wife and I will have a family.’

  His words only served to increase her anguish, her feeling of utter desolation. Once upon a time she had dreamt of being the mother of his children.

  That lovely dream had stayed alive, bright and shining, until she had discovered that he couldn’t be trusted, then, sadly, painfully, it had died.

  So get a grip, she urged herself. All this emotion she was feeling was false. It no longer related to the man himself, but to a dream. An illusion.

  The man she had fallen in love with didn’t exist. Had never existed, except in her imagination. Even so, it had shaken her rigid to find he had a wife.

  She found herself wondering how long he’d been married. Judging by what he’d said about travelling, probably not very long…

  Seeing he was watching her, and knowing how well he could pick up what she was thinking and feeling, she took a deep breath and queried, ‘What is your vineyard called?’

  ‘Wolf Rock Winery.’

  ‘Is that where we’re heading?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is your wife there now?’ She had had to ask, and she was relieved that her voice had remained steady.

  ‘No, not at the moment.’

  She was just breathing a quick sigh of relief when he added evenly, ‘Though she will be soon.’

  Perdita was trying to come to terms with that knowledge when a thought occurred to her that made her go hot all over. Suppose Jared had told his wife about her?

  She desperately hoped not. It would be bad enough having to face the other woman without her knowing about the past and that passionate and, in the end, infinitely bitter relationship.

  However, there was nothing she could do to change either the past or the present.

  All at once she felt dull and defeated and weary, emotionally drained.

  Watching her lovely face, sad now and oddly empty, Jared saw the paleness beneath the make-up, the shadowed eyes and heavy lids, the slight droop of her lips, and felt a strong urge to take her in his arms and hold her close.

  But enough anger and resentment still lingered to nullify that sudden surge of sympathy and he merely said, ‘In spite of your earlier rest, you still look shattered. Why don’t you get another hour or two’s sleep before we land at San Francisco?’

  Relieved at the thought of being on her own, Perdita rose to her feet, then, recalling what had happened the last time, paused to pick up her bag.

  As he had done previously, Jared accompanied her to the bedroom door, but this time he merely said, ‘I’ll ask Henry to bring you some tea well before we reach our destination.’

  When the door closed behind her, moving like a zombie, Perdita slipped off her shoes and once more removed her skirt and jacket before stretching out on the bed.

  Though she recognized that the room was at a comfortable temperature she felt chilled, cold inside, and pulled the soft lightness of the duvet over her.

  She was on the verge of sleep when her mobile rang. Reaching for her handbag, she retrieved her phone and mumbled, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Dita…?’ Martin’s voice held a mixture of relief and impatience. ‘I’ve had a lot of trouble getting through to you. What the devil’s going on?’

  ‘Didn’t Helen explain?’

  ‘It’s been very hectic this end and when she couldn’t reach me she left a text message which I’ve only just picked up.

  ‘As I couldn’t immediately get through to you, I talked to your father. He confirmed that you’d gone to the States as Calhoun’s guest, and that you were staying at Salingers’ headquarters in New York.

  ‘I know the negotiations are urgent, but I’m not too happy at the thought of you going off with a man none of us know anything about.’

  Perdita was trying to find something reassuring to say when he queried, ‘So what’s Calhoun like? Is he a married man?’

  The question brought a tide of emotion surging back, but she answered as levelly as possible, ‘Yes, he’s married.’

  Then, hoping to divert further questions, she asked quickly, ‘So how are things going at your end?’

  ‘As I said, pretty hectic. But, with a little bit of luck, it will have been worth it. Mr Ibaraki is quite happy to…’

  For a short while he talked business, then he asked, ‘So is Calhoun’s wife there?’

  ‘I understand she’ll be joining him.’ This time, caught unawares, Perdita’s voice shook betrayingly.

  Martin picked it up at once. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. ‘You seem upset.’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she lied valiantly. ‘I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night, and it’s been a long journey.’

  Martin, who disliked travelling, agreed, ‘Of course. And the time difference doesn’t help.’

  He sounded sympathetic and, afraid she would burst into tears, Perdita said quickly, ‘I’d better go now.’

  ‘Why the hurry?’

  ‘My battery’s almost run out. Last night I forgot to charge it, and I haven’t got my charger with me.’

  ‘Then I’ll keep in touch via Salingers. The best of luck with the negotiations. I hope you get on all right with Calhoun’s wife. Things like that can make a difference.’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed hollowly.

  ‘Love you.’

  Unable to either answer or stem the emotion any longer, she rang off and dropped the phone back into her bag. Then, curled under the duvet, she gave way to what she recognized as futile tears.

  They were still sliding silently down her cheeks when sleep claimed her.

  She had no idea how long she’d slept when she was awakened by a knock at the door.

  Knowing it would be Henry with the promised tea she sat up, a tangle of pale silky hair tumbling round her shoulders, and trapping the duvet under her arms, called, ‘Come in.’

  But it was Jared who carried in a tray set with dainty sandwiches and small cakes. ‘Tea time,’ he said cheerfully.

  Every nerve-ending in her body tightening in a sudden panicky confusion, she sat quite still.

  When he had put the tray down with care, he settled himself on the edge of the bed, a great deal too close for comfort.

  Noticing her frozen expression, he remarked, ‘There’s no need to look like a scared rabbit. I’m not plannin
g to ravish you.’

  ‘I’m glad about that,’ she managed shakily.

  His white grin flashed briefly. ‘A rabbit with attitude, I see.’

  When he moved a little, either by accident or design, his hip pressed against her thigh and she flinched.

  Obviously amused by her reaction, he asked, ‘So how are you feeling now?’

  Even in her own ears she sounded breathless as she answered, ‘Much better, thank you.’

  Studying her face, where the traces of tears were still evident, he observed, ‘Well, you certainly don’t look it.’ Then, more gently, ‘Why the tears?’

  Needing an excuse, she told him, ‘Martin phoned.’

  Sardonically, Jared enquired, ‘And does he usually make you cry when he phones?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she denied sharply. ‘But these circumstances aren’t usual…and…and I found I was missing him.’

  ‘You sound like love’s young dream,’ Jared observed, mockery in his voice.

  ‘And you sound like the heartless devil you are.’

  He grinned. ‘I must say I prefer you with a dash of spirit.’ Then, with a gleam in his eye, ‘So what exactly did you tell lover boy?’

  Annoyed by the jeer, but unwilling to show it, she answered shortly, ‘Not a great deal. He’d already been in touch with Dad, who’d given him all the gen.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I couldn’t see any point in worrying him, so I let him go on believing I was in New York and everything was all right.’

  ‘He wasn’t concerned about you flying off with a man you didn’t know?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he was. He made a point of asking if “Mr Calhoun” was married, and if his wife would be with him.’

  ‘And you told him…?’

  ‘I told him yes.’

  ‘That set his mind at rest?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well. Otherwise, he might have been donning his shining armour and saddling up his white steed to ride to your rescue.’

  ‘Sarcastic swine,’ she muttered.

  Jared clicked his tongue reprovingly. ‘Now, is that any way for a nicely brought up young lady to talk?’

  ‘If you think—’

  He put a finger to her lips, stopping the heated words and effectively silencing her. ‘We’d better leave any further invective until later, otherwise our tea will get cold.’

  While she fumed helplessly, he filled two china cups with tea, added a little milk and handed her one. Then, putting a selection of small triangular sandwiches on a plate, he set it down within easy reach before drinking his own tea.

  In the confined space he was altogether too close, too masculine, and it was a great relief when there was a tap at the door and the steward’s voice said, ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, sir, but the Captain says could you give him a minute before we land? There’s something he’d like to check with you.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll be along directly.’

  Jared emptied his cup and replaced it on the tray, then, feeling in his pocket, he produced her hairpins. ‘Yours, I think. Though I would prefer you not to use them.’

  Seeing he was waiting for an answer, she muttered, ‘Very well.’

  He rose to his feet. ‘It’ll take another half an hour to reach San Francisco, so you have plenty of time to finish your tea and freshen up.’

  Their landing at San Francisco International Airport was as smooth as the take-off had been and, in no time at all, it seemed, their baggage had been unloaded and they were descending the aircraft steps.

  While Henry followed with their bags, a proprietorial hand at her waist, Jared escorted Perdita across the hot tarmac to the terminal building.

  He was well known to the airport officials and, because they had flown from England to the States and both had dual nationalities, the formalities were over quickly.

  Perdita had hoped to claim her own passport but, with an easy movement that took her unawares, Jared slipped it into his pocket.

  When she would have argued, he said indulgently, ‘Darling, you’re such a scatterbrain. It’ll be safer with me.’

  Her teeth clenched in helpless rage, she had to watch while the little group smiled, before she was shepherded away.

  They took the elevator down to the underground parking lot where a white open-topped sports car was waiting in the long-stay section.

  Jared unlocked the car and helped Perdita in, while Henry dealt with the luggage.

  When their bags were safely stowed in the boot, Jared thanked him and the two men exchanged a few words before the steward turned to walk away.

  A few moments later they were leaving the relative gloom of the parking lot and climbing into the dazzling afternoon sunshine. Outside, the cloudless sky was the heavenly blue of lapis lazuli, while the dusty, fume-laden air hung hot and sticky with humidity.

  It was three years since Perdita had been on this part of the West Coast but it didn’t appear to have changed at all. There were still streams of traffic, massive wayside hoardings and a straggle of unprepossessing glass and concrete buildings.

  Right there on her wavelength, Jared remarked, ‘It isn’t the most exciting scenery in the world, but when I return from my business trips it always makes me feel as if I’m coming home.’

  As they nosed out onto the freeway and headed north, knowing there was no point in sulking, she asked, ‘Is it far to the Napa Valley?’

  ‘It’s a fair drive, but I think you’ll find it’s well worth it.’

  Already it had been a long journey, and with what he described as a ‘fair drive’ in front of him she wondered how Jared would cope but, glancing sideways at him, she saw he looked fit and vital and anything but tired.

  Noting her glance, he lifted an enquiring brow.

  A little thrown and needing something to say, she remarked, ‘I’m never quite sure what the time difference is out here.’

  ‘California is in the Pacific Time Zone—eight hours respectively behind Greenwich Mean Time—which means it’s already late evening in London.’

  When she had adjusted her watch, raising her voice above the wind of their passing and the engine noise, she asked, ‘Don’t you ever suffer from jet lag?’

  ‘Not as a rule. I’ve travelled so much over the past couple of years I find it easy to adjust.’

  He relapsed into silence and Perdita found herself glad not to have to talk or think.

  They had only gone a short distance when, slanting her a glance, Jared saw that her eyes were closed, the long silky lashes curling on her cheeks.

  Strands of blonde hair blew around her face and, in spite of the hours she had slept, she still appeared pale and washed out.

  She’d always had a delicate, hauntingly fragile beauty, yet he knew quite well that she was anything but weak. She had plenty of spirit and an inner strength that showed itself in the set of her mouth and chin.

  But, in spite of that, she looked defenceless and vulnerable. A look that touched his heart.

  After a while she stirred and opened her eyes. The air was cooler now and, apart from the whiff of cooking and gasoline from the roadside pull-ins, a great deal fresher. She watched telegraph lines make long wavy patterns against the deep blue of the sky and heard the soft phut of insects hitting the windscreen before she drifted off again.

  The next time she surfaced, the surroundings were altogether more pleasant.

  Seeing she was awake, Jared remarked, ‘As you can probably guess, we’re in the Valley, in fact, we’ve just come through Napa itself. The road we’re on now is the St Helena Highway, the vineyard road.’

  Sitting up straighter, Perdita looked around her. As Jared had said, the Valley was beautiful. Gentle slopes rolled lush and fertile on either side of the highway, and the balmy air was redolent of green and growing things.

  They reached and passed Yountville, where the road swung left to skirt the rocky outcrop of the Yountville Hills. Beyond that, the wide, flat
valley, with its steep wooded slopes, began to narrow a little and they were in the vineyards.

  ‘Wolf Rock is just a mile or two up the road,’ Jared told her.

  The realization that they were so near brought a sudden panic. Until now, though she and Jared had been in close proximity, they hadn’t really been alone. Henry had always been close at hand and they had been on the move.

  Being cooped up alone in a house with Jared would be a different matter.

  But surely they wouldn’t be alone? Even if his wife wasn’t there, he must have staff of some kind to run the place.

  Though she made an effort to think positively, it didn’t stop all her previous apprehension returning in force.

  It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if she’d known exactly what he was up to, what kind of game he was playing. But his motives for forcing her to accompany him were still unclear.

  As he was married, the notion she had been afraid to acknowledge even to herself—the notion that he might try and make her go back to him—had obviously been wrong.

  So why had he planned all this? Why had he held out the hope of saving her father’s company and coerced her into coming to the States?

  It had to be so he could take some kind of suitable revenge. But what, in his eyes, would be a suitable revenge?

  Her father had almost bankrupted him, Elmer and Martin had beaten him up, and she had, in his eyes, at least, failed to either love or trust him.

  Of those indictments, two at least were unjust. She had loved him. She’d loved him with every fibre of her being. And she would have trusted him if he hadn’t so lightly betrayed that trust.

  But he had sworn he hadn’t, sworn he was trustworthy, and an intelligent, down-to-earth woman like Sally had believed him.

  That knowledge might well have shaken her, made her doubt his guilt, if she hadn’t been there and seen it with her own eyes.

  Sighing, still no closer to solving the riddle of why he had brought her here, she tried to push all the worries and unanswered questions to the back of her mind.

  No doubt she would know the worst soon enough.

  She only hoped that for everyone’s sake she could save JB Electronics, or at the very least mitigate the final outcome…