Claiming His Wedding Night

by Lee Wilkinson

  Her train of thought came to a halt as Jared turned left and then, after a hundred yards or so, swung right down what appeared to be a private road.

  After a short distance they came to a pair of tall black wrought iron gates that stood invitingly open. In an arc above the gates, ornate iron letters read ‘Wolf Rock Winery’.

  ‘Home,’ Jared said with satisfaction as he drove through the gates.

  After a hundred yards or so he drew to a halt in front of a covered, flower-festooned veranda that ran the entire length of a large one-storey house.

  Its roof tiles were an orangey-pink and its adobe walls were colour-washed a pale apricot. The two should have clashed, but somehow they appeared to be in complete harmony.

  When he had helped her from the car, he took their luggage from the boot, led the way up the veranda steps and opened the door into a large hallway.

  Inside, the house, as far as she could see, was open-plan and spacious, with white walls and cool tiled floors.

  There appeared to be the minimum of furniture, and she recalled how Jared had always liked his living space to be simple and uncluttered.

  Apart from some green plants, the only splashes of colour were provided by pictures, one of which, with its kaleidoscope of colour-washed houses spilling down the hillside to the blue, blue sea, she recognized as the Italian town of Portofino.

  Jared had promised that one day it would be their honeymoon destination.

  Gazing at it, she swallowed and, her throat feeling as though it were full of shards of hot glass, wondered if he had taken his wife there.

  Only as she started to turn away did she realize that his eyes were on her face, noting her reaction.

  ‘A lovely spot,’ he remarked. ‘I’ve always thought it an ideal place for a honeymoon.’

  Touched on the raw, she said dismissively, ‘In Martin’s opinion, Italy’s old hat these days. He’s planning to take me to Dubai for our honeymoon.’

  She hadn’t wanted to go to Dubai, considering it soulless and unromantic. But, feeling the need to please Martin, she had said nothing.

  Jared’s white teeth flashed in the semblance of a smile. ‘Well, bully for him.’

  Something about that wolfish grin made Perdita wish fervently that she had kept her mouth shut.

  But, a moment later, his face impassive, he pointed to an archway on the right. ‘The main living quarters are that way, while the bedrooms are at this end of the house.’

  He led her through another white archway and down a wide corridor to a door about two-thirds along. ‘This is my room,’ he told her.

  As he paused to put his case inside, she caught a glimpse of a king-sized bed and a colour scheme of off-white and mint-green that looked cool and fresh.

  Moving to the next door along, he said casually, ‘And this is yours.’

  A matching white-painted tongue-and-groove door opened into another large, attractive bedroom with an off-white carpet and pale lilac walls.

  Between the two rooms was a communicating door, and a glass door with an ornate white metal grille led on to the veranda.

  Seeing her eyes were fixed on the communicating door, Jared said ironically, ‘It isn’t locked, and we don’t seem to have a key. But if it’ll make you any happier, feel free to put a chair under the handle.’

  Ignoring the taunt, she glanced around. There was the minimum of light modern furniture, but the bed was king-sized and, with its lightweight white and mauve duvet, looked comfortable and inviting.

  Both the windows were open and the muslin curtains moved idly in the gentle breeze.

  Putting her case on a low chest, Jared said, ‘When you’ve unpacked and freshened up, we’ll have a spot of supper.’

  ‘I’d prefer to go straight to bed,’ she told him and braced herself for an argument.

  ‘What about a cup of tea or coffee? Or a cool drink, perhaps?’

  She shook her head silently.

  Watching her and noting the stubborn set of her jaw, he sighed inwardly. Of course he could beat down any opposition, but for the moment he would much prefer to use the softly-softly approach.

  With that in mind, his tone eminently reasonable, he said, ‘The only problem is, if you do go straight to bed, you may find yourself lying wide awake in the early hours of the morning.

  ‘The best means of beating the time difference is to stay awake until it’s bedtime here. That way, your body clock adjusts much faster…But of course it’s entirely up to you. If you do decide to join me, I’ll be on the terrace at the far end of the house.’

  Perdita had expected opposition and she breathed a sigh of relief that he had been so reasonable. Perhaps things wouldn’t be quite as bad as she had anticipated, although it was early days yet.

  Reluctant as she was, knowing it wouldn’t help matters to have creased clothes, she began to unpack her case.

  Sally had put in light, easy-to-wear mix and match things, some pretty undies and nightwear, a good selection of accessories and even the blue velvet box that held her small amount of jewellery.

  She had, Perdita was forced to admit, chosen well and packed with care.

  When she had put her ivory satin nightdress and negligée on the bed, she stowed the rest of her things in the large walk-in wardrobe. Then, taking her toilet bag through to the en suite bathroom, she tucked her hair beneath a shower cap and enjoyed a warm shower.

  Having dried herself on soft fluffy towels, she brushed her hair into a silken mass and plaited it loosely into a single thick braid, before brushing her teeth ready for the night.

  Back in her bedroom, she put on her nightdress and went to look out of the window. The scented air was warm and clear as glass, the view green and pleasant. In the wooded area beyond the garden, she could hear the murmur of a stream and the endless shrilling of the cicadas.

  The sun had slipped below the horizon in a blaze of glory, while the rest of the sky, though still clear and blue, had lost its earlier brightness and was waiting for evening.

  Perdita had always thought there was something a little sad, a little melancholy, about this time of the day. But now she felt a much deeper sadness, a kind of forlorn isolation that made her heart as heavy as lead and weighed down her spirits.

  Sighing, she tried to tell herself that she was missing Martin, missing his reassuring presence. But in reality, since being with Jared, she had hardly given Martin a thought.

  What was weighing down her spirits was the knowledge that Jared was married. She knew quite well that it shouldn’t matter a jot to her, that she should be pleased. But somehow, in spite of everything, it did matter, and she was anything but pleased.

  Don’t be a fool, she chided herself. She had had her chance and, unable to trust him, had chosen to have her freedom.

  And now she was going to marry Martin—she touched the sparkling engagement ring on her finger as if it were a talisman—Martin, who was trustworthy and reliable, who adored her and wrapped her in a warm, comforting blanket of security.

  Martin, who had never managed to quicken her breathing or raise her pulse rate one iota.

  What was she doing marrying a man she didn’t love and would never love in the way a woman should love her husband?

  The sudden honesty was searing and, stripped of all pretence, she felt shaken and very much alone.

  Normally she had no problem being on her own, and quite often preferred it that way. But now she found herself fidgety and restless.

  She didn’t even have a book with her, so the only sensible thing she could do was go to bed. But, remembering Jared’s warning, she hesitated.

  The last thing she wanted was to find herself lying awake in the early hours of the morning, uneasy thoughts churning round and round in her brain.

  There was one other option, she admitted. An option she had been trying to push to the back of her mind. Now, however, it came to the fore and steadfastly refused to be banished.

  She could go and join Jared.

&nb
sp; Such a move might prove to be a bad mistake, she warned herself. On the other hand, this could be her last chance to see him, to be with him, before his wife arrived.

  Galvanized by that thought, she took off her nightdress and, unconsciously hurrying, pulled on fresh undies, a pair of oatmeal trousers and a loose silky top in burnt chocolate.

  Then, leaving her face shiny and her hair in its thick, loose braid, she plucked up her courage and ventured forth.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EVERYWHERE was silent and there was no sign of the housekeeper, but presumably she would have her own quarters, Perdita thought as she made her way through the hall to the far end of the house.

  Opening the door into an attractive and spacious living room, she found it was sparsely but beautifully furnished with well chosen antiques.

  There was an off-white carpet and, standing in front of a huge fireplace of unplastered stone, a cushioned couch and two armchairs upholstered in coffee-coloured linen.

  Either side of the fireplace there were tall eighteenth century bookcases, complete with a graceful pulpit staircase.

  On the chimney breast hung a modern oil painting, a striking Tuscan scene by Marco Abruzzi. In the background were fields of vivid yellow sunflowers, vibrant with colour and warmth, and closer at hand a group of farm buildings, sunbaked and tumbledown, that were patterned with blue-black shadows.

  Such a juxtaposition of old and new shouldn’t have worked. But, against all the odds, it did.

  The room itself was high and open to the rafters and painted the palest of greens, which made it feel cool and airy, while the end wall was almost entirely made up of sliding glass panels.

  Through the glass, Perdita caught sight of Jared sitting in a lounger on the paved terrace, a tall glass in his hand.

  All at once she knew her decision to come had been a mistake. Instead of letting herself be drawn to his side, she should have stayed safely in her room.

  She was about to turn and hurry back when, as though sensing her presence, he glanced up and, rising to his feet, loose-limbed and relaxed, smiled at her.

  Perdita had the strangest feeling that he had been expecting her, that he had willed her to come.

  He reached to press a button and, as the glass panels slid aside, invited, ‘Do come and join us for a drink.’

  Us.

  Her heart plummeted. Did that mean his wife had already arrived?

  Apparently it did, for, as she stood frozen, he urged, ‘Sam and I would be honoured if you’d grace us with your company.’

  So his wife’s name was Samantha…

  But while the thought was still going through Perdita’s mind, as if the use of his name had disturbed him, the biggest dog she had ever seen came bounding in from the terrace. Putting his paws on her shoulders, making her stagger back, he laved her face with a warm pink tongue.

  Laughing, the tension momentarily broken, she made a valiant effort to push him down, but he was as heavy as he was affectionate and it took a firm command from Jared to stop the friendly assault.

  Stroking his massive head, she said, an edge of relief in her voice, ‘Well, hello, Sam. So where did you spring from?’

  ‘He lives here,’ Jared told her, ‘though he stays with Hilary while I’m not at home.

  ‘She thinks he’s cute,’ he added, tongue in cheek. ‘Though he’s only a pup and still learning, she told me that Sam’s the smartest dog she’s ever known.’

  Perdita was still smiling at the thought of the huge dog being described as cute when he turned and offered her an outsized paw.

  Smiling, Jared said, ‘He’s taken quite a fancy to you, haven’t you, Sam?’

  Addressing the dog, Perdita asked in mock reproof, ‘If it’s true that you’re so smart, why don’t you speak for yourself?’

  With a sigh, Jared said, ‘I don’t know how to break this to you, but he’s a little shy.’

  She gave a choke of laughter as, his thick tail whacking against her legs, Sam escorted her out onto the terrace before flopping down again by his master’s chair.

  Having settled her into one of the cushioned loungers, Jared studied her shiny face and bedtime braid with interest.

  Feeling the colour rise in her cheeks, and wishing she had stopped to do her hair and put on a touch of make-up, she said in confusion, ‘I must look an absolute fright.’

  ‘Not that I’ve noticed.’

  As she put up her hands to undo the braid, he caught them and stopped her. ‘Leave it. It’s quite charming.’ And indeed he thought he’d never seen a lovelier picture than she made at that moment.

  He released her hands and, subduing a powerful urge to bend his head and kiss her pale lips, enquired prosaically, ‘What would you like to drink?’

  Shaken by his touch, she managed, ‘Something long and cool, please.’

  Over to one side was a small semi-circular bar complete with a fridge and a coffee-making machine and, beyond that, a drinking fountain and a comprehensive barbecue and grill.

  Watching him cross to the bar, she noticed that he had changed into pale cream trousers and a dark green sports shirt, short-sleeved and open at the neck to expose his tanned throat.

  In spite of all the travelling they had done that day, he looked fresh and coolly elegant, and disturbingly attractive.

  Taking a squat glass pitcher from the fridge, chinking with ice, he filled a tall frosted tumbler and, handing it to her, said, ‘Try that and see what you think.’

  She took a sip of the fruity concoction. ‘Mmm…that’s delicious.’

  ‘Good.’

  Taking his seat, he stretched his long legs indolently, while they sat in what might almost have passed for a companionable silence if there hadn’t been an edge of tension.

  Tension which she recognized as her own.

  In an effort to beat it, she gestured towards the open glass panels and, like a polite guest, remarked, ‘You have a really lovely room.’

  He smiled a little mockingly but, donning the mantle of an equally polite host, he answered, ‘I’m so glad you like it.’

  Gritting her teeth, she battled on. ‘I was a bit surprised to find a fireplace.’

  ‘Well, as you know, the Californian weather isn’t always good and sometimes, especially in the cooler evenings, I enjoy the cosiness, the intimacy, of a nice log fire. If I remember rightly, you used to enjoy it too.’

  A sudden memory took her by the throat. A memory of them stretched out in front of a blazing log fire while he ran skilful hands over her naked body.

  She recalled the feel of those long sensitive fingers caressing her breasts, teasing the pink nipples, stroking down her flat stomach to twine themselves in the tangle of pale golden curls…

  Her breath coming fast, she strove to banish the erotic pictures from her mind, but the damage was already done.

  And he knew, of course.

  Trying to douse the heat that engulfed her from head to toe, she took a too hasty gulp of her drink and choked.

  ‘Dear me,’ Jared said mildly as he removed the glass from her unsteady fingers while she coughed, ‘I didn’t think I’d put that much alcohol in it. Or was it something I said?’

  When she regained her voice, she told him huskily, ‘I just swallowed down the wrong way.’

  ‘You’ll have to be more careful. It’s made you go quite pink.’

  Biting her lip, she accepted her glass back and, desperate to regain at least an outward appearance of coolness, looked around.

  A wing of the house ran at right angles to the roofed terrace, so that it was enclosed on two sides. The remaining two, which could be screened off with sliding glass panels, looked along the valley and across to the steeply wooded slope that rose way beyond the gardens.

  At the other end of the terrace, a creeper-clad garage block flanked a wide green lawn which appeared to run down to a sunken garden. In the middle of the lawn was a magnificent cedar tree with a hammock slung from its sturdy boughs.

  Clos
er at hand, just beyond the paved patio area, a large swimming pool looked blue and inviting and mirror-calm.

  To one side of the pool was an open-air jacuzzi, a couple of white-painted changing cabins and what she took to be a sauna. Beyond those was a wooden building with long windows that appeared to house a small gym.

  It seemed that Wolf Rock lacked for nothing.

  But by now, she reminded herself, the man her father had said contemptuously would never have amounted to anything must be a multi-millionaire.

  Though she held out very little hope that in the end Jared would save JB Electronics, in spite of everything, she found herself oddly pleased that her father had been wrong.

  Thinking of all the company’s financial problems and what they had led to, particularly in her case, she shivered.

  Proving that he never missed a thing, Jared raised an eyebrow and queried, ‘Cold?’

  ‘No. No…It’s lovely out here. It was just someone walking over my grave.’

  Jared got up to replenish their glasses and, as he resumed his seat, his voice studiedly casual, he asked, ‘What do you think of Wolf Rock so far?’

  ‘I think it’s beautiful,’ she answered.

  He looked pleased. ‘Tomorrow I’ll show you over the winery itself, if you’re interested.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, eagerness in her voice. ‘Seeing how the wine’s made should be quite fascinating.’

  Then, happy that it was a nice safe topic of conversation, she pursued, ‘Do you know why it’s called Wolf Rock?’

  He pointed over what appeared to be extensive gardens. ‘See where the ground begins to rise steeply, there’s a break in the trees about halfway up the slope…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If you can see well enough in this light, there’s a large rock jutting out that looks remarkably like the head of a wolf in profile…’

  ‘Yes, yes, I see it,’ she said.

  Perhaps it was the touch of excitement in her voice that made Sam get up, thrust his huge head into her lap and gaze up at her adoringly.

  ‘Why, you’re just a big softy,’ she told him.