A Convenient Husband (17 page)

‘You're not trying to pretend you
want
to marry me!'

His broad shoulders lifted as he captured her small hands in his. ‘Should I?'

She pursed her lips and grated her teeth in exasperation. ‘You've started to pick up a lot of nasty habits from the political types you interview. You're getting as slippery as they are.'

‘I don't know what you mean.' He was the picture of injured innocence.

Tess snorted. ‘Don't come the innocent with me, Rafe. I'm not saying another thing to you if you continue to respond to everything I ask you with a question.'

‘Was I that obvious?'

She nodded.

He shook his head. ‘I must be slipping. You're
really
not going to say another word.' Another nod. ‘You promise?' Rafe gave a slow, wolfish grin. ‘In that case…' The long, curling eyelashes lifted and Tess watched transfixed as the sizzling desire stirred smokily in his spectacular eyes.

From where he knelt their heads were almost level. A long, soundless sigh emerged from her slightly parted lips just before Rafe threw his rigid control to the winds and took full advantage of her self-imposed silence.

Tess melted into his embrace and with a tiny lost whimper wrapped her slim arms around his neck. Weakened by a flood of scalding desire, she shamelessly clung onto him. There was blind urgency in the long, hungry kiss which went on and on until Tess thought she'd simply melt.

When his lips left hers they didn't go very far. His nose pressed against the side of hers, he stayed there breathing hard. Even the touch of his warm breath against her skin aroused her to the point of babbling delirium.

‘I love—' she only stopped herself just in time ‘—the way you kiss.'

There was a slight uneven catch in his deep warm laugh. Her skin was moist where tiny pinpricks of moisture had exploded across the surface; she could feel that his skin was damp too. Without thinking of the consequences she dabbed her tongue against the salty sheen across his jaw. His splayed fingers were pressed against her back. They spasmed and for a moment the pressure was painful. The moment passed swiftly and the hand that continued to move up and down the length of her spine became almost soothing. It also effectively prevented her drawing back; as it happened the last thing on Tess's mind was escape.

‘You've absolutely no idea how much I've been wanting to do that,' he groaned, taking her chin in one hand and pressing another urgent kiss to her soft, inviting lips.
‘Last night…'
The muscles in his throat visibly worked as he swallowed hard. ‘Oh, God, Tess, it was…' He gave a hoarse cry. This time his kiss was tender, lingering.

‘We shouldn't be doing this…here.' Tess made a token protest even though she was exactly where she wanted to be.

‘Doing what?' he asked indulgently as he brushed back her fringe to reveal a shapely broad forehead. ‘Kissing?'

‘I'm leaning on you.' She made it sound a shameful thing to be doing. Leaning seemed somehow more significant to her than kissing; it implied trust, dependence, reliance, vulnerability—things that Tess had no practice displaying.

What am I doing? The man hasn't just offered me his soul, just a marriage of convenience, she reminded herself brutally. It was crazy and dangerous to lower her defences and respond like this.

Rafe seemed to understand instinctively what she was saying…I suppose it's just as well one of us does! she thought.

‘That's the idea, Tess, that's what I'm here for. You don't have to shoulder the responsibility alone any more.'

Oh, he'd like that, wouldn't he, if she got all meek and compliant? Tess tried to ignite the dregs of her resentment and failed miserably.

‘You've told your grandfather we're getting married, haven't you?'

‘I knew I couldn't pull the wool over your eyes.'

She dug her fingers deep in the thick hair that curled against his neck. ‘But you thought you'd try anyway. I suppose the theory is that this makes it even harder for me to say no.'

An irrepressible grin split his lean features. ‘I knew you wanted to say yes!'

Tess's eyes widened. It wasn't just his audacity and arrogance that drew an outraged gasp from her, it was his perception. Her fingers twisted tighter in his hair until he held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘You…you manipulative…'

‘You know me so well, angel.' There was no laughter in his eyes as they ran over her face. ‘And I'd like you to get to know me even better. I want you to be able to forget where Tess ends and Rafe starts.'

The erotic rasp in his voice made her shiver as his hands moved to either side of her slender shoulders. The pressure he exerted drew her body upwards.

‘I wish you weren't staying here tonight…It's all right, I know you have to,' he soothed as she opened her mouth to speak. At that moment a distant cry made her stiffen.

‘It's Ben!' she cried, pulling away from him. She pulled a shaking hand firmly across her tender lips and tried to compose herself. ‘I have to go.' She stated the obvious for his benefit as she leapt urgently to her feet.

For a moment he stayed where he was, on his knees. It seemed strange to see Rafe of all people in the position of a supplicant. Rafe didn't plead—he might go as far as to coax, cajole and generally confuse the issue, but not beg.

‘How do you know?' He frowned. ‘Know that it's Ben?'

Tess looked at him as though he'd just said something extremely stupid. She'd know Ben's cry if you hid it amongst another hundred others.

‘I just
know
,' she announced impatiently.

Rafe reached the boy's bedside about the same time as the nurse. Tess was already soothing the fretful child.

T
ESS
felt miserable that they'd argued before he'd left for town. She knew it was unreasonable to feel mad with Rafe for leaving in the middle of a sizzling row, but she did anyhow.

Nursing her rancour, she chose not to dwell on the fact he hadn't had much choice in the matter. It was quite a coup to get an interview with the latest high-profile political casualty. The higher they'd climbed, the more spectacular the fall and the greater the public interest—so far this chap had refused to speak to anyone but Rafe.

She couldn't even legitimately complain that Rafe put work ahead of everything else. He'd taken loads of time out of a crammed schedule when Ben had been in hospital and newly returned home.

He must be wondering what he had to do to make her happy…pity she couldn't tell him! The thing was, her emotions were all over the place. The emotional see-saw of dramatic mood swings was exhausting, which probably accounted for the intense, bone-deep fatigue she'd been experiencing lately.

She wasn't the only who looked less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Rafe was displaying signs of strain too, but it was probably pretty tiring living with someone when you were never very sure if they were about to burst out crying or demand urgently to be made love to!

She gained some comfort from the fact Rafe always seemed happy to oblige her where the love-making was concerned—their communication problems didn't extend as far as the bedroom, where things remained several degrees better than blissful!

That initial anger she'd felt was now tinged by a steadily growing conviction that she might have overreacted slightly when she'd found out he'd put the announcement of their impending marriage in
The Times
.

Rafe's casual response when she'd waved the offending item under his eyes had transformed her shock into simmering anger.

‘I meant to tell you, it must have slipped my mind.' Rafe slid the last item into his holdall. ‘The old man might actually believe we're serious now,' he added, fastening the bag and heaving it over his shoulder.

His explanation didn't fool her;
nothing
slipped Rafe's mind!

‘Edgar isn't the only one who will see it.'

Rafe's eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘And that bothers you?'

‘It bothers me that people will expect me to act like a blushing bride,' she snapped.

It bothered her that she couldn't tell him she loved him. Part of her wanted to take the risk; she'd been on the point of blurting it out a hundred times. Sometimes she literally ached from wanting to tell him. If he'd ever given a single hint that he wanted anything more from her than sex, she might have.

‘I can make you blush.' He used the soft intimate purr that acted on her like an instant aphrodisiac. His words reawakened the memory of the things he'd said to her when they'd made love that morning, things that had made her whole body burn.

Her stomach muscles contracted violently. Looking in his eyes felt like drowning…drowning in desire.

‘God, I wish you didn't have to go!' she wailed hoarsely.

‘Then come. Come with me,' he responded immediately.

A brilliant smile lit her face, then just as dramatically it faded. ‘I can't—I'm not packed, neither is Ben. It isn't really practical.'

He shrugged as if it didn't matter to him anyway. ‘But you're all right about the announcement?'

He didn't even care enough to try and persuade me…‘Does it matter?'

‘A formal gesture might not be necessary if you were wearing my ring,' he drawled, his glance skimming her bare left hand.

Tess's hand curled into a tight fist. ‘Not that again! I've told you…'

‘That a ring is an outmoded symbol of ownership,' he recited in a monotonous monotone. ‘Yes, you have, Tess—on numerous occasions, and if those were your genuine views I'd respect them, but we both know they're not.'

‘You can't leave after saying something like that!' she cried, slamming the door he had just opened and leaning her back against it.

‘Let's face it, Tess, you threw the ring back in my face because you're determined to act as if this marriage is some sort of cosmetic affair. A ring, an official announcement, it all makes it seem too real for your taste. When the vicar asks if you will, you'll probably say
maybe
!'

His accusation was so close to the mark she naturally got a lot madder.

‘It may have escaped your notice, but this marriage
is
a cosmetic affair.' Her dulcet tone concealed desperate pain.

‘This marriage,' he bit back, ‘will be what we make of it. For Ben's sake…'

Does he think I'm likely to forget this is all for Ben's sake? she wondered miserably.

‘We were talking about this,' she interrupted coldly, shaking the offending newspaper, ‘yet another example of your high-handed behaviour and—' She stopped abruptly. ‘Did you say vicar? I thought we'd agreed that a register office would be more appropriate?'

‘I didn't agree with anything.' His gentle smile was provocative in the extreme as he opened the door with her still attached to it and calmly stepped through.

Her fury and frustration bubbling over, Tess followed him into the hallway, almost running to keep up with him as he made his way towards the front door of the cottage. Of all the stiff-necked, self-righteous,
stubborn
…

‘You really are your father's son, aren't you?' she flung wildly at his broad-shouldered back.

That got his attention. He stopped and turned so abruptly that Tess had to dig her heels into the worn tread of the mellow-toned carpet that covered the oak boards to prevent herself catapulting into him.

‘Did you just say that for effect, or have you actually got a point to make?'

Rafe had remarkably expressive eyes—had she been allowed she could have covered several sheets of A4 with adoring descriptions of those sensational velvety orbs—and right now they weren't saying anything flattering about Tess. A lesser soul, or possibly a less furious soul, than Tess might have been intimidated by the austere sneer that drew one corner of his mouth upwards at exactly the same fascinating angle as one quizzically haughty eyebrow.

‘You're just as anxious to keep up appearances as Edgar is!' she told him, her lower lip quivering with disgust and disillusionment. ‘I always thought you were more honest than that.'

If she'd thought for one second Rafe's extravagant plans had been inspired by anything other than a desire to make their marriage plans look authentic for the benefit of the world in general, and his father in particular, she'd have rejoiced and been more than happy to wear his ring. Hell, she'd have worn an elastic band if the reason he'd offered it had been that he loved her!

There had been no mention of love when he'd produced the ring; in fact his manner had been insultingly offhand. She would have happily been married in a cupboard, and by the same token would have walked down the aisle in a cathedral if the man who loved her wanted to shout about their love to the world! Knowing Rafe didn't just made her more reluctant to go along with his plans.

‘I'm sorry if my integrity falls short of your standards.' The frigid silence lasted for a handful of seconds before he turned on his heel and left. Tess wanted to run after him, but she didn't.

During the miserable twenty-four hours since he'd been gone Tess had come to accept that she couldn't carry on punishing Rafe for not loving her. She ought to feel glad that at least when it came to important things he'd never pretended.

She was going into this marriage with her eyes open, it was Rafe who wasn't, which in her eyes made her the worst sort of hypocrite! The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she couldn't go through with the wedding without telling Rafe the truth, which was why she'd caught the train up to London and, with a holdall under one arm and a baby under the other, was now standing outside the building where Rafe lived.

Rafe's flat was on the top floor of the old warehouse conversion, a minimalist's paradise with acres of polished wood floors, lots of industrial chrome and light streaming in through vast windows that overlooked the river.

It made her feel even guiltier to recall that at a word from her he'd made it clear he was willing to sacrifice this bachelor haven for a more child-friendly environment. She wouldn't even wear his stupid ring!

Perhaps she'd feel better once she'd told him the truth. The flip side of that coin was that she could feel a lot worse if he reacted badly to the news his reluctant fiancée was actually wildly in love with him!

Tess opted for the lift. Stairs might be the healthier option, but not when you were carrying a sleepy toddler. Ben was making up for lost time—he seemed to have put on several pounds in the weeks since he'd been discharged from hospital.

I just hope that after all this Rafe's at home. Who are you kidding, Tess? she mocked herself. You're praying he won't be home. Just in case her prayers were answered and the inevitable was delayed, she'd brought the key he'd given her. Spontaneity was all well and good, but with a baby in tow it paid to make contingency plans.

As it happened she didn't need a key—the front door was ajar. Tess frowned. People—Rafe included—just didn't leave their doors open or even ajar in the security-conscious city. Either Rafe had had burglars or he'd been spending too much time in their crime-free village.

Not burglars, she decided, walking into the scrupulously tidy open-plan living area. The first thing that hit her was the absence of baby clutter. She pictured some blonde draped across the soft leather sofa and the bile rose in her throat. She'd never suspected that jealousy could be such a physical emotion. Along with the nausea, her throat was dry and her heart was palpitating as if she'd opted for stairs.

The anticlimax was tremendous when her call produced no response.

She wandered through to the bedroom, looking about her curiously. It had been a long time since she'd been here. The Japanese-style decor in the bedroom was new. With relief she knelt down and laid the sleeping child on the bed. Relieved of her burden, she flexed her aching shoulders.

Out of the corner of her eyes she caught a flicker of movement. It came from outside on the balcony that ran the length of the flat linking the living area to the master bedroom.

Don't think, just do it, she instructed herself firmly. The door slid silently across, and Tess was just about to step outside when she realised Rafe wasn't alone. She hastily drew back into the bedroom. Once she'd heard the voice was female there was no question of her closing the door and waiting.

‘I knew when I saw the announcement in the paper what a terrible,
terrible
mistake I'd made, darling!' The unseen person pleaded in a breathy, little-girl whisper. ‘You must know you're acting on the rebound. Don't do it,
please
!'

There was the sound of sobbing. It wasn't the sort of no-holds-barred sobbing that made a girl's eyes red and puffy; it was a delicate, restrained, eye-dabbing variety, designed to melt susceptible, protective male hearts.

Tess, her eyes closed tight, could visualise the sort of comfort going on during the nerve-racking silence. There was a scream building up somewhere in the tight confines of her chest.

‘If it wasn't for the baby…we'd—'

Tess wondered how the other woman managed to make a laugh sound bitter and sexy simultaneously.

‘I know it's not easy for any man to take on another man's child…'

‘I might have agreed with you once. We live and learn.' There was a note of joyous discovery in Rafe's voice as he warmed to his theme. ‘I could take on another man's child. If I loved the woman, Claudine, it wouldn't matter…nothing would matter! And as a matter of fact I do love a woman…'

There came a point when enough was enough and Tess was way past that point. With a keening sob aching to escape her tight throat, she turned, picked up Ben and ran. She didn't stop until she ran slap bang into a tall figure dressed in an exquisitely cut dark suit that shrieked of expensive bespoke tailoring.

She placed a soothing hand on Ben's head as he stirred in his sleep. Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, she lifted her downcast head to mumble an apology to the stranger.

Her tragic tear-washed eyes seemed to fill her entire face. She summoned a weak smile.

‘I'm sorry…Oh, it's you!'

‘Good afternoon, Miss Trelawny.' Edgar Farrar's gaze slid from her tear-stained face to the child asleep in her arms. ‘He's got Alec's colouring,' came the terse verdict after a moment of intense, apparently unemotional scrutiny.

Eyes wide and fearful, Tess took an automatic step backwards.

A sneer appeared on his lined, lean face. ‘Don't worry, child, I'm not about to snatch him away.'