The Yuletide Bride: 1781 (Wedlocked!)

by Mary Lyons

  ‘There’s every need.’ He brushed a hand roughly through his thick dark hair. ‘You have, after all, accused me of behaving with almost criminal irresponsibility by my abandoning a young teenage girl and leaving her to face a traumatic pregnancy without any help or support. Although—God help me!—that last charge is unfortunately true,’ he added with a heavy sigh.

  Amber gave a helpless shrug of her slim shoulders. ‘Look, we’ve been through all this ad nauseam. I realise that I’ve given you a hard time, and said some horrid things to you, about what happened all those years ago. But that was in the past. We’ve both now made new lives for ourselves. What’s the point in raking it up all over again?’

  ‘The point, my dear Amber, is that your version of events does not tie up with mine,’ he retorted bluntly, turning to give her a hard, searching look from beneath his dark brows. ‘When, before leaving for America to join my uncle, I asked you to be my wife and to wait until I’d made arrangements for you to join me in the States, I meant every word of what I said.

  ‘However, until the other day, I had no idea that in the flurry of my departure, I’d omitted to give you my uncle’s phone number. All I knew was that we’d arranged for me to contact you on your arrival in London, when you’d have finished packing up your old home in Elmbridge and would know more about your mother’s state of health and mind. Are we in agreement so far?’

  She shrugged. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Right. Now, what you don’t know is that shortly after I’d landed in the States, my uncle and I were in his car, due to attend a meeting in one of the factories he owned, when we were hit head-on by a large truck. I don’t remember anything about the accident. All I know is that I eventually woke up to find myself in hospital with a broken arm, two broken legs and a bad case of concussion. I also learned that I was lucky to be alive—unlike my uncle, who’d been at the wheel of the car and had, unfortunately, been killed outright.

  ‘However,’ he continued as she gave an involuntary gasp of horror, ‘while I was lucky not to have anything tricky, like amnesia, I did suffer from very intense, sick headaches for a long time after my limbs had healed and I was back on my feet. But that was nothing compared to the headache of trying to run my uncle’s business. Although I was his only living relative, I was amazed to learn that he’d recently drawn up a will leaving me everything he owned.’

  Max turned his dark head to give her a wry grin. ‘As you can imagine, neither the other directors of the firm, nor the workforce, were too thrilled about that. And you can’t blame them. Weeks seemed to go by when I felt just so damn tired and ill that I didn’t know how I was going to be able to cope. So, by the time I got my act together, I was not only having to work my guts out to prove that I was capable of running the company—if only to justify the faith which my uncle must have had in me—but I also realised that it was over two months since I’d been in touch with you.’

  She gave a helpless sigh. ‘If only I’d known about your accident. But I’d no idea...’

  ‘Of course you hadn’t,’ he agreed swiftly. ‘Just as I had no idea of your problems. Believe me, if there was ever a story of two star-crossed lovers, this is definitely it!’ He began pacing up and down over the grey flagstones. ‘Unfortunately, when I did get around to phoning you in London, I got your aunt on the line, thrilled to bits about the news of your forthcoming marriage to Clive Stanhope.’

  ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ he ground out. ‘I was in such a state of shock that it was some time before I understood what the old trout was saying. I can still hear her now: “They’re so happy! It’s such a suitable marriage—just what her dear father would have wanted,”’ he savagely mimicked her aunt’s plummy voice. ‘”Clive is so wealthy. Have you ever seen Elmbridge Hall? A wonderful old house—just perfect for two young people to start their married life!” And a whole lot more drivel on the subject of both Clive’s wealthy lifestyle and your past, very close friendship.’

  ‘No, that’s not true!’ she was stung into retorting. ‘I hardly knew Clive before he offered to marry me.’

  ‘Not a word about the baby, of course,’ Max continued grimly, ignoring her protest. ‘For God’s sake, Amber! Am I supposed to believe that your aunt was completely blind? Surely she must have known that you were pregnant?’

  Amber hung her head. ‘Yes...well, I suppose she probably did guess the truth,’ she mumbled. ‘But we never talked about it. She was very old-fashioned and...um...’

  ‘...mightily relieved that her niece was getting married in the nick of time?’ Max queried sardonically, pausing in his restless pacing for a moment to throw a searching, steely glance at the clearly unhappy, huddled figure of the girl sitting across the room. ‘Well, there’s not much more to tell,’ he continued bleakly. ‘As you can imagine, I went completely off the rails. However, when I eventually sobered up and realised there wasn’t much point in drowning my sorrows in wine, women and song, I did the only thing I could—which was to throw myself into work. I developed and expanded my uncle’s business, gobbling up many other companies on the way until going public and floating Warner International on Wall Street. Now, all these years later, I’ve also taken over a large business here in the UK. So, I guess it could be said that my story has a happy ending. Right?’

  She nodded silently, not trusting her voice as she tried to come to terms with all that he’d said. It was absolutely shattering to realise that all her preconceived notions, all the unhappy and traumatic events of the past, should turn out to be the result of nothing more than a few unfortunate twists of fate. It seemed almost impossible to believe that a car accident and a missing phone number could be responsible for all the unhappiness of the past eight years.

  * * *

  Amber yawned, leaning back against the padded leather headrest. Goodness knows where Max had got hold of this huge, luxurious vehicle. But she had to admit that with the snow beginning to fall once again, a Range Rover was the perfect vehicle to cope with dangerous icy roads. Which made it all the more peculiar that Max, despite the obviously bad driving conditions, had insisted on taking her out to dinner. Like any other sensible person, she would have preferred to stay indoors by the fire. But Max, as usual, had managed to get his own way.

  Turning her head to glare at the man sitting beside her, Amber’s frustration at being ordered around was slightly mollified by the sight of a large bruise on his cheek. Good for Lucy! Although the little girl had never intended to hurt him, of course, she reminded herself quickly, recalling how when she and Max had left the orangery, they’d found themselves being pelted by snowballs. It had been an energetic fight, with Lucy—who’d already assembled her ammunition—screaming with laughter as Max had enthusiastically joined in the fun. Unfortunately, when the child had at last managed to score a direct hit on his face, it seemed that a large stone had become accidentally embedded in the snowball.

  Although she was reluctant to give him any credit, Amber had to admit that Max had coped very well with the situation. Quickly drying Lucy’s tears, he’d explained that it was a well-known hazard of the game, which he, as a veteran of many such fights had fully expected to happen, before suggesting that it was time for lunch. After providing her favourite meal of beef burgers and chips smothered in tomato sauce and, after returning home, playing innumerable childish card games in front of a roaring fire, it was no wonder that Lucy had taken such a shine to ‘Mummy’s old schoolfriend’. In fact, Amber thought sourly, by the time he’d been persuaded to read her a long bedtime story, it was not surprising that her daughter was beginning to think that Max was the best thing since sliced bread!

  Confused by the conflict of emotions in her head, Amber gave a heavy sigh. She knew she ought to be pleased and happy that Lucy and Max were obviously getting on so well together. But she couldn’t seem to help resenting their instinctive understanding of one another—or the way in which he seemed to have charmed the socks off her mother. With Violet, who a
ppeared to have taken on a new lease of life, enthusiastically seconding Max’s proposal to take her out to dinner, Amber hadn’t been able to think of any viable reason for refusing the invitation.

  ‘You’re very silent,’ Max said, breaking the heavy silence within the car.

  ‘I...er...I’m still not happy about leaving my mother in charge of Lucy,’ she muttered nervously, suddenly feeling threatened by the dominant presence of the man sitting so close to her. ‘She hasn’t been well, and...’

  ‘Nonsense! There’s nothing wrong with your mother,’ he said crisply. ‘In fact, Violet appeared to be in excellent spirits this morning when I told her I was buying your house.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘As a guest in your home, it would have been extremely bad manners if I hadn’t seen your mother and also informed her of my plans,’ he pointed out blandly. ‘Which is why I also felt obliged to ask her for your hand in marriage.’

  ‘Who are you k-kidding?’ Amber spluttered furiously. ‘I don’t believe you’ve ever felt “obliged” to do anything in the whole of your damn life!’ she grated, longing to slap that sanctimonious, holier-than-thou expression from his handsome face. ‘You rat! If you’ve upset her in any way, I’ll...’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ he gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Violet is absolutely thrilled to bits at both being able to remain in the house and the idea of a Christmas wedding. However, I did extract a promise from your mother not to tell anyone. Certainly not until we’d both had an opportunity to discuss the matter with Lucy.’

  He’s done it again! The wretched man had found yet another weapon to coerce her into his insane idea regarding their marriage. Desperately wishing that she could lock herself away in a dark room and scream blue murder, Amber realised that Max now had her well and truly over a barrel. How could she possibly combat both her mother’s delight at not having to leave Elmbridge Hall, and the fact that Lucy was bound to be thrilled to have a real father at last? On the other hand, how could she bear to marry a man who clearly wasn’t in love with her? A man obsessively determined to pursue his mad plans for a Christmas wedding simply to gain parental control over Lucy?

  Certain that she was going to disgrace herself by bursting into tears at any minute, she turned her head to stare blindly out of the passenger window. It was only then, as Amber caught a glimpse of an illuminated road sign, that she realised they were travelling along the main road leading to London—something she ought to have recognised long before now, if it hadn’t been for the dark winter night and her own heavily depressed state of mind.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘I thought you were supposed to be taking me out for dinner?’

  ‘You’re quite right—I am,’ he agreed blandly. ‘I merely thought you might like to dine at my apartment in London.’

  ‘You must be out of your mind! Why on earth would I want to go all that way just for a meal?’

  ‘I can give you any number of reasons,’ he drawled smoothly. ‘Because I thought you might appreciate eating something different from that served in the local restaurants; because my housekeeper is a first-class cook and has promised to leave us a delicious meal in the oven; because I thought it would do you good to get away from Elmbridge for a bit, and because...’

  ‘OK, OK,’ she snapped. ‘But what about Lucy? My mother is normally a perfectly reliable baby-sitter, but...’

  ‘Calm down,’ he retorted firmly. ‘Before we left, I told your mother exactly where we were going, and also gave her my phone number in case any problems should arise.’

  Totally outraged and incensed at Max’s continued interference in her life, Amber’s fury intensified as she caught a glimpse, in the headlights of a passing car, of Max’s eyes gleaming with unconcealed mockery, and became aware that his broad shoulders were shaking with amusement. But the infuriating man continued to ignore her protests that she wanted to return home, and unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she found herself being driven into an underground car park beneath a large, modern building overlooking Hyde Park.

  ‘Good Heavens!’ she exclaimed some minutes later, finding it difficult to maintain her anger as she gazed around the sumptuously furnished sitting room of the penthouse apartment. Her eyes widened at the sight of so many marble columns and the huge floor-to-ceiling window providing a spectacular, panoramic view of the London skyline.

  It was an amazing place, she thought, her shoes almost disappearing in the thick pile of a white carpet covering the floor of the large main room, which was decorated with ultra-modern chairs, sofas and glass tables of every shape and size. Staring at the huge, plate-glass windows draped with thick, cream linen curtains, she found herself wondering just how many women had spent time with Max in this opulent, luxurious apartment. Goodness knows, she’d never actually seen a male ‘love nest’, but it didn’t take an overheated imagination to realise that this place with its long, black deep leather sofas and enormously large modern paintings of nude women must be the real thing!

  ‘I thought this place might give you a bit of a laugh!’ Max said cheerfully as she found herself staring incredulously at an extremely rude picture on the wall. ‘Unfortunately, I inherited the apartment from a previous managing director of the company—who seems to have had more girlfriends than I’ve had hot dinners! So, please don’t accuse me of having such ghastly, terrible taste, because, quite frankly, I can’t wait to move out of here.’

  To her surprise, Amber found herself smiling at his lugubrious expression as he gazed around the large room, and almost weak with laughter as later, during dinner, he entertained her with stories about the amorous exploits of his predecessor. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the phone calls I’ve had here,’ he grinned. ‘I can’t make up my mind whether the man was a regular Don Juan—or the Marquis de Sade!’

  ‘I really ought to say I’m sorry for having been such a grouch earlier this evening. Because you were quite right,’ she admitted when they were sipping their coffee and brandy in the drawing room. ‘That was a really delicious meal—and it’s a great treat for me to have the pleasure of eating someone else’s cooking.’

  ‘That’s a more handsome apology than I deserve,’ he told her quietly, falling silent for a moment and buried deep in thought as he stared down at the brandy glass in his hand. ‘It wasn’t just the shock of seeing Lucy, although, God knows, that left me completely traumatised for a long time,’ he said at last, the raw bitterness in his voice causing her to look at him anxiously. ‘It was discovering the many years of financial struggle and the sheer, grinding poverty that lay behind the seemingly wealthy façde of your house, which completely threw me for a loop. Even now, hearing you talk about the “treat” of enjoying someone else’s cooking is enough to make me see red. I really don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for allowing you and Lucy to endure such an experience.’

  Wincing as the harsh, savage tones echoed loudly in the small room, Amber instinctively turned to the man sitting beside her on the sofa to place a comforting hand on his arm. ‘Please, Max, there’s no need to torture yourself like this—or exaggerate my difficulties. Don’t you realise that I’m so much luckier than thousands of other people? At least I’ve got a roof over my head,’ she pointed out firmly. ‘Nothing to do with my present situation could possibly be regarded as your fault.’

  ‘It may not have been directly my fault,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘But I do have to take full responsibility for much that has happened to you. Which is one of the reasons why I’m so determined to make sure that Lucy has a father, and that both you and she are financially secure from now on.’

  ‘I appreciate what you’re saying—I really do,’ she assured him earnestly. ‘But you can be a perfectly good father and provide financially for Lucy without feeling that you have to marry me. I’ll have plenty enough to live on, once the house is sold. Enough to buy a small cottage well away from Elmbridge, if need be, so that there won’t be any gossip about Lucy’s parenta
ge. And of course you can see her—just as often as you like,’ she added quickly as he gave a determined shake of his dark head.

  ‘Once you’re married to a rich, successful man—who’s likely to attract business to the town—you’ll find that there will be virtually no unkind gossip.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about such matters,’ she said, brushing a distracted hand through her golden brown hair. ‘But I’m quite sure that money isn’t everything in life. It certainly can’t buy you happiness, for instance.’

  ‘No. But it can make damn sure that you’re unhappy in comfort,’ he retorted with a wry, twisted smile.

  ‘My God, how can you be so cynical?’ she accused him bleakly, angrily banging her coffee cup down on the low glass table in front of them. ‘Is that the sort of marriage you’re planning for us? Two people trapped in a thoroughly miserable existence? Surrounded by luxury, and yet not even talking to one another?’ she demanded, jumping angrily to her feet. ‘Well, I don’t want any part of it! And I definitely don’t want—’ She broke off, eyeing him warily as she saw him rise slowly from the sofa and begin moving determinedly towards her.

  ‘I know exactly what you want!’ he drawled, his mouth twitching in silent humour.

  ‘No, you don’t!’ she retorted defiantly as she backed nervously away from his tall figure, her progress abruptly halted as she felt her back jar up against one of the cold, marble pillars decorating the room. ‘I’m no longer that stupid little teenager that you once knew, Max,’ she continued breathlessly, almost hating the diabolically attractive man gazing down at her, the hard, sensual gleam in his glittering blue eyes causing her stomach to clench with sexual tension. ‘I’m twenty-six years old and perfectly capable of realising what you have in mind. Believe me, it’s not the right answer.’

  ‘Believe me, it most certainly is!’ he mocked softly, taking another step forward.