A British Bride by Agreement

by Stenzel, Therese

  He drained his glass and stood. He filled it again and drained it, as if to cover over some dark pain. “My brother killed himself when he was eighteen. He had big ears and was kind of awkward. He was bullied a lot at school. And then there was a lot of pressure on him as the heir apparent, and he seemed to crumble under the burden. He dabbled in drugs and I knew it. But I never told anyone in my family. He’d made me promise. He said it was temporary. He just needed to get through his first year of college, and I believed him. But then he overdosed.” Jonathan slammed his fist on the table. “And I’ll never know if it was an accident or he did it on purpose. So maybe I am responsible for his death.”

  The pain in his voice, ripped into Emma’s heart. She came over to him and held his fist. “I am so sorry.” She knelt down beside him and shook her head, trying to shake away this woozy feeling away so she could think clearly. “That was not your fault.”

  He stood up and paced the terrace, finally stopping at the edge over-looking the ocean. He drained his third or fourth glass of champagne.

  Emma came and took the glass away from him. She gripped his hand with her own and waited, hoping by her presence she could ease his pain.

  Suddenly, he turned her and pulled her into his arms.

  She rubbed his back, saying over and over, “You can’t blame yourself.” She pressed her eyes shut and prayed over him, that God could help him get free of this guilt.

  He pulled back with tears in his eyes. “I miss my brother.” He leaned on the railing and put his head in his hands. “I miss him every day.”

  She could feel his shoulders shake. “Come to bed, honey. You need a good night’s sleep.

  He let her lead him into the darkened bedroom. She took him to his side of the bed and slid off his jacket, laying it on the dresser. When she started undoing his shirt buttons, her hands pulled back. This was too intimate. “You can do this. I’ll find your pajamas.”

  But he held her still. “You are the most amazing woman. I can’t believe God led me to marry you. I don’t deserve you.”

  She sighed. That was just the champagne talking. “Let me help you to bed and we can talk—”

  He set his fingers to her lips. “You are the best thing in my life.” He pressed his lips to hers, slowly laid her on the bed. “I don’t deserve you, but I see you are my treasure.”

  Emma’s body trembled at his words.

  “And I will care for you every day that God allows us to be together.” He forced his warm, strong lips to hers, and took control of her mouth.

  She reveled in his passion, her heart was overflowing with bliss, so much so, she laughed out loud.

  He leaned back and took off his shirt. “I want to make you this happy every day.”

  As he pressed himself to her again, she savored the clean smell of soap and his own manly scent. She had never been so attracted to a man before.

  As the passion increased, Emma let go and allowed Jonathan to be her husband in every sense of the word.

  ***

  Jonathan woke up. He glanced over at Emma, who was curled into a little ball sound asleep. His mind played out last night’s events until the phone rang. He pulled on some sweat pants and took his cell phone out of the room so as not to wake Emma. A glance at the clock told him it was ten a.m.

  “Hi Dad.” He cleared his throat, hoping to sound more awake.

  “What is this I hear that your wife has sent over $200,000 dollars to England and you didn’t tell me?”

  “There is a very good explanation for that.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to sort it out yet, but as soon as I get back, I will.”

  “If she has swindled this company—”

  “First of all, they were my personal funds, and secondly, that is not who she is.”

  He father chuckled. “You haven’t asked her about it yet.”

  Jonathan ran his fingers through his hair. “No, not yet, but I will address it.”

  “I was afraid this marriage would soften you.”

  “No, look, you’ve got it all wrong—”

  “There is a new opening in Product Development. And I was considering moving you back there, but ever since Nick took it over and he told me about your wife and her shifting money around, I’m glad I moved him into that position. At least he hasn’t cost me any money.”

  Jonathan pressed his lips together to gather his composure. “Look, I’ll be home in five hours. We can talk about it then.”

  “Fine.”

  Jonathan shoved his fists to his waist. He’d sworn he’d never allow anything to divert his attention from his goals. Had he softened since he’d married Emma? A memory of last night floated through his mind. He rubbed his mouth, feeling as if he was choosing between cutting off a leg or an arm. But he had to keep business first. That’s what made his father happy. And what made his father happy made the guilt from his brother’s death more bearable for everyone in his family.

  He slipped into the shower and dressed. While he was putting on his shoes, Emma stirred and sat up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to get back to St. Louis.”

  “Well, give me a minute and I’ll get dressed and joined you.”

  “No.” He strode toward her and kissed her on the forehead. “I have to go straight to the office. “I’m sending another jet to pick you up later this afternoon.”

  She reached out and held his arm. “But I want to go with you.”

  He could feel his blood pressure rising. Cut off the leg or the arm, the leg or the arm? “You can’t. I will see you later.”

  He strode out of the room, got his papers and brief case together and headed for the door. He could hear the patter of feet behind him. All the while he could feel the woman he loved impaling him with her saddened gaze.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Over the last two days, Jonathan had seen little of Emma. He worked until he knew she was asleep and got up before she was awake. He didn’t want to deal with the emotional longings she evoked. And he certainly didn’t want to be reminded of their romantic night together. If he thought too much about it, he’d tear out of his office and rush home to be with her again.

  Business was important for now. Especially when he realized Nick was gunning to take away what he had worked for his whole life. Later, he would have time for passion. Although, at the thought of last night, he swallowed hard. Emma was an intoxicating woman.

  His phone rang and he clicked on his speakerphone.

  “Mrs. Peterson for you.” Geraldine said.

  He groaned. This lady was incessant. The Steller Benefit Concert was still about a month away. How hard could it be to plan? “Yes, Mrs. Peterson.”

  “I haven’t heard from you on the concert. Things don’t just happen on their own. Sometimes you have to make an effort.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I’ll have someone call you this week.”

  “That’s what you said last week. You’re a day late and a dollar gone.”

  He shook his head at her mixed up sayings. “Well, then it’s good that you called me. You keep me on my…nose.”

  Her silence revealed she wasn’t amused at his joke.

  He should be more polite. This was his mother’s oldest friend. “I will look into it and call you personally by the end of the week.”

  “Fine.” She hung up.

  Her words, sometimes you have to make an effort rang in his mind. He couldn’t let his marriage die. He knew Emma cared for him and he had been shutting her out. He hadn’t even seen her now for three days. He called her cell number. No answer. He called back and this time he left a message.

  “Hey, Em.” Had she forgiven him for leaving her in Belize? “I was just thinking about you and I wondered if you could meet me for dinner at…”

  Geraldine stood in the doorway holding a stack of files.

  “At that new French restaurant…” His mind went blank. He shot a
glance at Geraldine and mouthed the word, help.

  “A La Mode,” Geraldine whispered.

  “A La Mode. I hope you can make it. I’d love to…” He paused as Geraldine leaned in with a soft expression on her face.

  “See you there at seven p.m.”

  A broad grin spread across her mouth. “I never thought I’d see you in love.”

  “I’m not—” He shuffled the papers on his desk.

  Her brow furrowed.

  He didn’t know it was showing. “I’m not working late tonight.”

  ***

  Emma sat and idly pulled the petals off the red rose in the vase until a waiter at the French restaurant came and stood beside her. “Oh,” she looked up. Heat filled her cheeks. She scooped up the petals and tried to shove them into the vase. What was she doing?

  With a sniff, he reached down and took the vase off the table. “I will bring you another madam.”

  “Not necessary.” Emma shifted her gaze to her hands. Pull yourself together, Duckie.

  “Can I bring you something else to drink?”

  “An iced tea—” She paused. “I mean, another Steller Plum soda, diet please.”

  “Of course.”

  Emma glanced at her watch again. Jonathan was a half an hour late. She gripped her hands on her lap. Just as well. She was a nervous wreck all day today, trying to work up the cheek to tell him what she had done with the decorating money. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t come. Had he found out and been so cross he couldn’t face her?

  Probably, just more of his long hours at the office. She understood his new job required overtime, but a call would have been nice. She huffed out a breath and took a sip of her water. Working alongside Jonathan had given her a whole new view of him. She was in awe of his determined character and his relentless dedication to the success of the charity. But since they’d come back, he’d again buried himself in work. If only they could spend more time together, then she could handle his desire to climb the corporate ladder.

  A knot burned in her stomach. Had he forgotten about their special date? She started to dig for her cell phone, somewhere in the bottom of her purse. She paused. No. She wouldn’t remind him. He either cared about her or he didn’t, and by his constant indifference, she was beginning to wonder. Was she daft to hope this marriage could be more than a deal to further his career? And when he found out about the money she’d sent to England, would he regret marrying her?

  ***

  Perspiration had soaked through Jonathan’s suit coat. He shifted in the conference room chair and glanced at the clock again. A half an hour late for his special date with Emma. The FBI agent’s voice penetrated Jonathan’s frustrated thoughts. “Huh?”

  The man tapped his pen on his pad. “I asked if you talked with the man in Belize before you sent him the money?”

  “Many times.”

  “And you didn’t recognize his voice when you talked with the flood relief organization in Pakistan?”

  “Did you know he was running a Ponzi Scheme?”

  “No.” Jonathan shook his head. His stomach knotted. He’d failed again. He shot a glance at his father, whose furrowed brow revealed his displeasure. “No, I had no idea this was the same man and what he was up to.”

  The agent wrote feverishly “How much did you send him in total?”

  “Fifty thousand.” Jonathan dropped his gaze.

  “How many times has this charity been swindled this year?”

  Jonathan sank lower in his chair. Never had he felt so beaten. His life, from sports to academics, to relationships, to making money, had always been wildly successful. But ever since being jilted at the altar, it was like he was cursed. God, what are You doing? The only bright spot in his life was Emma who was probably by now on her way home furious with him for not calling or showing up. “Three times.”

  His father’s eyes widened. “Three?”

  Jonathan’s mouth bobbed for a moment as he sought a feasible answer for not reporting yet another problem. “Hillsdale House.”

  He father leaned forward. “Hillsdale House? We’ve supported that program for years. How could it—”

  “The director, Kevin Gibbs was caught selling drugs to the residents. He’d even recruited a few to become a part of a drug ring.” Jonathan steeled himself for the next question.

  “And who hired him?” The agent asked.

  Nick did, but as his boss, he should have done the second interview and approved him. “I did.” Jonathan swallowed, wanting to disappear into the floor.

  “That will be all, Mr. Steller.” The agent handed his business card to Jonathan. “We appreciate your cooperation. If you could stay in the country for the next month or two, we may call on you again to help with the further investigation of this crime network.”

  Jonathan ran his hand across his face. Now his father would move him to the mailroom for sure. “No problem.”

  As the agent left the boardroom, Jonathan shot a glance at the clock again. By now, Emma must hate him for not even calling her. “Just a minute, Dad.” He turned on his cell phone. Dead. A wave of anger rolled through him. Where are You God? And what was the use? The damage had been done to his relationship with her. If he was in her shoes he’d leave himself. Yet another failure at his feet. He stood to go and find another phone when his father touched his arm.

  “This charity business is harder than you thought?”

  Jonathan squinted at his dad’s understanding look. “I haven’t given up if that’s what you mean?”

  “The measure of a man is not if he fails at something, it’s what he does after that.”

  Jonathan’s gaze followed his father as he paced out of the room. Then why did his father constantly remind him of all his failures? His brother’s death. This move from Product Development, his lack of producing a grandchild on time. Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck. Nothing that he thought would move him forward in his career had worked out. And how could he maintain a faith in a God who let him down at every turn?

  ***

  The next morning, Jonathan sat in the breakfast room toying with his eggs and bacon.

  Emma walked into the room. Her face pale as she sat. “Where were—”

  At the same time, he said, “I was—”

  Just then the maid came in. “Here’s your tea, Mrs. Steller.

  “Thank you.” Emma sat down and poured her tea, but her hands were shaking.

  As soon as the maid left them, he sat down, reached over, and took Emma’s hand. “Em, I owe you an apology. I should have called last night.”

  “What happened?”

  “I—I,” he paused. He wouldn’t tell her how badly things had gotten at the charity. Or that he FBI was involved. He pulled back and turned his attention to his food. He had to ask her about the money, but first he had to dig out of the doghouse. “I got delayed in a very important meeting. My father may soon, someday, be heading toward retirement, so when he summons me to a meeting I have to go.”

  “Could you not have called?” Her voice was quiet.

  “Dead cell phone.” He tossed it on the table.

  She stood. “Then hire a helicopter to drop gold coins with the message that you can’t make it inscribed on the front.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You could buy AT&T. There is no excuse for not calling.”

  “I couldn’t leave the meeting to call you.”

  “It’s all about priorities. I’m just lower on the list than your job.”

  He glanced up at her fiery green eyes. He wanted to pursue her, to share with her that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, not drive her away.

  “I’m sorry.” Emma brushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes as she sat down. “I know you’ve taken on this new position and you want to please your father.” She let out a long sigh. “This whole lifestyle…I just never thought I’d live this way again.”

  He put his toast down. His appetite gone. She’d never liked
this way of life. “Just because this prosperous lifestyle is new to you—”

  “It’s not new. I’ve grown up in wealth. To at least the appearance of great wealth.”

  He gripped his fork and softened his tone. “Yes, God has blessed the Steller family, but that’s the reason for the charity— to give back.” He sounded like his father. “Wealth is a gift from God and I’m determined to change to honor Him with what He has given us.” By the sound of his words, he realized he did have faith in the Lord. God was changing him.

  “I’m sorry, but you could have called. I needed to talk to you.” Tears glittered in her green eyes.

  He grabbed her hands. “Forgive me?”

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  The money she sent to England? Was she so unhappy that she wanted to leave him? “There are things I want to tell you, too.”

  “What did you want to tell me?” she asked.

  He pulled away and ran his fingers through his hair. Fear and longing tangled up inside of him. “The FBI came and asked me a few questions about the charity.”

  “The FBI?”

  “That’s why I couldn’t call you. We’ve come in contact with some con artists who are swindling charities out of money with phony relief organizations and the FBI wanted to talk to me about it.”

  She stilled. Her face white. “Do they know what country they’re from?”

  “Mostly India.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He led her to sit down. “I also wanted to ask you about…” his gaze searched the bare room. How could he ask her outright about the missing money without sounding as if he was accusing her? “The decorating. How’s it going?”

  She swallowed. “Fine.”

  He looked around the sparse room that held only a table and six chairs. “Have you ordered the furniture yet?”

  Her gaze fell. “I—I —”

  Was she not planning to stay long enough to need furniture? Is that why she sent the money to England? “I’m sure it will look great.”

  “If you don’t like what I’ve done so far...”

  Frustration simmered hot under his collar. Why had he allowed himself to be vulnerable with her? To tell himself that she cared for him? “It would be nice to have some more furniture. We’ve been back from Munich for a month now.”