Breaking/Making Up: Something Borrowed\Vendetta (4 page)

Apparently not, for his ‘I do’ at the end was strong, even if there was a decided raspiness in his voice.

The doctor in Ashleigh automatically diagnosed that he was getting a cold—the result, no doubt, of a heavy night out and whatever else James had been up to last night.

Truly
, she thought somewhat irritably, never being at her sympathetic best when it came to male drinking bouts, let alone indulging in one the night before getting married.

Ashleigh was mulling over this uncharacteristic lack of consideration in her husband-to-be when James reached out and abruptly took her left hand, almost crushing her fingers within his as he drew it across her towards him. Her eyes flew up in startled alarm, meeting his steely blue gaze with a definite contraction in her chest.

This was a side of James she had certainly never seen before—a tougher, harder, much more macho side. It came to her astonished self that perhaps he was more like Jake than she’d realised.

And why wouldn’t he be? inserted the voice of ruthless reason. They were identical twins, weren’t they? They had probably started out with identical natures, till the stronger of the two personalities stamped his presence more loudly, forcing the other to adopt a more passive, compromising role. Maybe, once Jake had gone from the Hargraveses’ household, James had been able to crawl out from under the shell his brother’s dominance had forced around him, even though the gentle, less assertive manner he’d adopted over the years had by then become a habit.

Today, however, the pressure of the wedding and the mishap over Peter was probably bringing his basic male aggression to the fore.

To be frank, Ashleigh wasn’t sure if she liked this more masterful James or not. Perhaps she didn’t want to be faced with the prospect of his becoming more and more like Jake. Perhaps she was more comfortable with their remaining totally different.

‘The ring?’ the celebrant asked of the best man.

The stranger with the fair hair and dark eyes extracted the ring from his pocket and handed it over. Only the one ring. James had resisted Ashleigh’s attempts to make him wear one, saying he didn’t like to wear jewellery of any kind. Which was quite true.

Lifting her hand, he began sliding the wide gold band on to her ring finger, saying the traditional words as he did so. ‘With my body I thee worship...’

Ashleigh’s heart caught at the fierce emotion James was putting into his vow. Unless, of course, it was the oncoming cold bringing that huskily thickened quality to his voice.

Her eyes lifted to his and she knew instantly that that was not so. The earlier steel had melted to a swirling blue sea of desire, drawing her gaze into its eddying depths, seducing her with the silent promise of a passion she had never dreamt James capable of. But it was there in the eyes holding hers, in the hand wrapped securely around her fingers, in the chemical electricity which was surging from his hand to hers.

‘And with all my worldly goods I thee endow,’ he concluded, his eyes dropping to caress first her softly parted lips, and then her lush cleavage.

Ashleigh was shocked, a shaming heat stealing into her cheeks. Surely this was not the right moment for open seduction?

Flustered, she yanked her hand away from James’s disturbing touch, not daring to look at him in the process. Instead, she concentrated her regard on the celebrant, who cleared his throat and announced pompously, ‘I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together.’ Beaming widely at them both, he added, ‘And now, Mr Hargraves, you may kiss your lovely bride.’

Oh, God, Ashleigh thought with a flip-over of both her stomach and heart. Instant nerves had her holding her breath as James turned her to face him before slowly lifting the thin layer of netting back over her head. Quite deliberately she didn’t look up into his eyes, focusing her attention on his chin. But slowly and inexorably her eyes were drawn upwards till they were right on his mouth. She watched, heart pounding, as those well-shaped lips opened slightly.

And then he was bending his head.

Ashleigh froze till contact was made, suppressing a gasp of dismay to find that his lips were oddly cold and lifeless on hers. Somehow, after his smouldering scrutiny, she’d been expecting—no,
hoping
—for more. A possessive, hungry kiss. An explosion of passion. A sample of what was to come.

But when James’s mouth lifted from hers she was left feeling desolate, a jagged sigh of disappointment wafting from her lungs.

The sigh brought another incisive glance from her brand-new husband. This time Ashleigh wasn’t quick enough to avoid returning his look.

There was no longer any promise of seduction in his silent stare, only an unreadable implacability that sent a deep shiver reverberating through her. For, though the expression in his eyes seemed impassive on the surface, there was a razor’s edge lurking within those cool blue depths. One got the impression of suppressed violence, of wild forces, barely tamed behind a civilised fa
ade.

Ashleigh had a vivid mental picture of James tonight, ripping her clothes from her then taking her with a savagery bordering on rape. She sucked in a startled breath, her glossed lips gasping apart, her breasts rising and falling in a bemused agitation, caused as much by her own reaction to such a vision as the vision itself.

Was she appalled, or aroused?

If the latter, how could that be? She had never been a woman to indulge in rape fantasies. She had consistently shrunk from sexually aggressive men over the years. They reminded her too forcibly of Jake, who, though never violent, had exploited her own sexual vulnerability towards him with a frightening ruthlessness.

Would James turn out to be of the same ilk?

Her agitation was just about to rocket into fully fledged panic when the dangerous light disappeared from his gaze and he was turning away from her to accept his best man’s congratulations, leaving Ashleigh wondering if she was imagining things again.

Of course you are, her high degree of common sense argued, seemingly for the umpteenth time that day. James is a gentleman. A
gentle
man. Now you stop this nonsense this very second!

But it still crossed Ashleigh’s mind as the celebrant led the wedding party up on to the dais for the signing of the marriage certificate that not once, so far this afternoon, had James smiled at her.

Now that wasn’t like him at all!

While the adolescent James had been a shy, sensitive lad who didn’t make friends all that easily, especially with girls, maturity had developed in him a more relaxed, easygoing personality which was quietly successful with women. In fact, there wasn’t an attractive girl in Glenbrook who hadn’t at some stage been dated by the very eligible and handsome James Hargraves.

He had, however, gained a reputation for being a bit fickle, never staying with one girl for too long. It had also been rumoured that he had a mistress stashed away somewhere, accounting for his many weekends spent away from the town, probably in Brisbane or the Gold Coast. Though Glenbrook was in New South Wales, it wasn’t far across the Queensland border, and only a couple of hours’ drive to that state’s capital and the nearby tourist Mecca of Surfer’s Paradise.

But the weekends away had lessened with the added responsibility that fell on James’s shoulders after his father’s death, and Ashleigh hadn’t given James’s supposed mistress—or his sex-life—a single worrying thought.

Till now...

Could he still be seeing this woman occasionally? Was that why he had almost meekly accepted her wish not to make love before their marriage?

Unsettling doubts besieged her, but she quickly brushed them aside. Any reason James had for seeing another woman would no longer be valid after tonight. She would make sure of that! Meanwhile, she
did
need to have explained some of the things that had bothered her this afternoon. Peter’s absence and James’s hand, as well as his swinging moods.

‘James,’ she whispered as they sat down side by side at the special signing table. ‘You must tell me what’s going on.’

‘Regarding what?’ he said slowly, turning an annoyingly bland face her way.

‘What happened to Peter, for one thing?’ she went on agitatedly.

Now James smiled, a sardonic grimace that did nothing to ease Ashleigh’s peace of mind. ‘You might say Mr Reynolds and I didn’t see eye to eye on a particular subject,’ he muttered.

‘You mean me, don’t you?’

He nodded. ‘I found it necessary to impress on him quite forcibly that it would be in his best interests to leave Glenbrook forthwith.’

Ashleigh’s mouth fell open. ‘Then you did...hit him?’

James’s smile showed great satisfaction. ‘Several times.’

‘Oh, my goodness... Oh, James...I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I enjoyed it.’

‘You...
enjoyed
it?’

James must have seen her shock, for his hand moved swiftly to cover hers, his eyes holding hers with the first real warmth and affection he’d bestowed on her since she’d arrived today. ‘Forget Peter. He’s not worth thinking about.’

She jumped when Kate touched her on the shoulder. ‘You’re supposed to be signing,’ her friend said with a teasing laugh, ‘not having an intimate little tête-à-tête. Keep that for later.’

James flashed Kate a smile that was more like his usual self, and Ashleigh let out a long-held breath.

‘Whatever you say, Kate,’ James agreed. ‘Has Rhys explained about Peter’s sudden attack of appendicitis?’

Ashleigh only just managed to stifle her astonished gasp at this cool delivery of the obviously prearranged excuse. Goodness, but James was constantly surprising her today. Who would have thought so many faces were hiding behind his usually bland fa
de?

‘Yes. It was a real shame, wasn’t it?’ Kate returned with blithe indifference. Peter Reynolds was not one of her favourite people, either. ‘You were lucky to have someone else to step in at the last minute who could fit into Peter’s clothes.’

‘You’re so right. Well, let’s get on with this.’ And, picking up the pen, he started to sign.

Ashleigh stared down over his shoulder with a peculiar feeling of tension invading her chest. When she saw the words ‘James John Hargraves’ form in James’s usual conservative hand an unmistakable wave of relief flowed through her, bringing a measure of exasperation. For heaven’s sakes! What had she been expecting?

‘Smile, Mrs Hargraves,’ Nancy’s hired photographer said, crouching down in front of the desk and snapping away. ‘Now one while you’re signing...’

Finally she was finished, and settled back in her chair to watch both Kate and this Rhys person sign, happy for her heartbeat to get back to normal.

It was impossible to mind Peter’s not being one of their witnesses, as she was only then realising how much she’d despised the man. Still, she couldn’t imagine what he’d said or done to turn James against him so vehemently. They’d been such close friends for so long. But, whatever it was, she sure as heck hoped James had smacked him one right on his supercilious moosh.

Yes, now that she’d had time to mull it over, she wasn’t at all upset by this turn of events.

The substitute witness finished signing, startling her with a surprisingly warm smile as he turned to step away from the desk. She got the oddest feeling he knew a darned sight more about her than she did about him. When the celebrant also stepped up to put his name to the official documentation of her marriage Ashleigh glanced down at the best man’s signature. Rhys Stevenson...

A jab of recognition tickled her brain. The name was familiar. But why? She glanced over her shoulder to where he was standing, talking very amiably to Kate. No, she didn’t recognise him at all, yet the name still rang a vague bell.

‘I’m sorry I have to dash away,’ the celebrant was saying, a widely apologetic smile on his face. ‘But I have another engagement this evening and you were—er—a little late getting here. My hearty congratulations, and I hope everything turns out very well. Might I say you both did splendidly? No one would have guessed that—’

‘All finished here?’ Rhys interrupted, leaving Ashleigh wondering what it was no one would have guessed. ‘Your have to go now, don’t you, Mr Johnson?’ he directed at the celebrant. ‘You did a great job. A really great job.’ He pumped the man’s hand then pressed an envelope into it, which no doubt contained the prearranged fee. A big one, judging by Mr Johnson’s huge grin as he departed.