Claiming His Wedding Night (5 page)

With so much on her mind, so many worries about Jared’s motives and intentions she hadn’t expected to sleep. But, if they were almost at Boston, she must have slept for several hours.

Refreshed by the drink, she washed her face and hands in the shower-room and took the pins from what remained of her chignon, only to realize that her comb and make-up were still in her bag, which she had left in the lounge.

At the same instant there was a knock at the bedroom door and Jared’s voice called, ‘Sorry to rush you, but in a minute or so we’ll need to take our positions for landing.’

‘Coming,’ she answered in a muffled voice and, twisting her long corn-coloured hair into a knot, secured it as best she could.

Then, quickly, she pulled on her skirt and jacket and, feeling as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, made her way to the lounge, where Jared was waiting for her.

She was vexed to find he looked fresh and virile and supremely confident, with not a hair out of place. Once again, just the sight of him made every nerve in her body tighten and her heart start to beat faster.

His eyes on her face, he enquired with smooth urbanity, ‘Feel any better?’

Knowing her hair was a mess and her nose was shiny, and conscious of being even more at a disadvantage, she answered stiltedly, ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Then let’s get ready for landing.’

When they touched down at Boston, knowing her father would be waiting for her call, Perdita reached for her phone.

She had been debating what to tell him. Should she admit that this was just a refuelling stop and that they would be flying on to San Francisco? Or let him go on believing they were going to Salingers’ headquarters in New York?

She was still struggling to decide when Jared slanted her a sideways glance and enquired, ‘Have you made up your mind whether to let him think we’re at JFK, or admit we’re at Boston?’

‘I don’t know what to tell him,’ she admitted helplessly. ‘What do you think—?’ She broke off, vexed that she had actually asked his advice.

Seeing her bite her lip, and realizing the cause, Jared smiled a little before suggesting, ‘Wouldn’t it be simpler, and cause him less worry, to let him go on believing that you’re in New York?’

‘But suppose he tries to contact me there?’

‘I’ll talk to the office and put them in the picture, make sure they channel any calls that go there straight through to California.’

Somewhat cheered by that assurance, and knowing she’d need to tread carefully, she went ahead and called her father.

‘Hi, Dad, we’ve just landed.’

‘Good journey?’

‘Very good. You know where to find me if necessary, but I’ll keep in touch.’

‘Have you spoken to Martin yet?’

‘Not directly,’ she hedged. ‘But Helen was going to let him know what was happening.’

‘Well, I’d better let you go. I know the next few days are going to be tough, certainly no holiday, but if you get the chance try to have a little fun.’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll ring you as soon as I’ve anything to report. In the meantime, take care of yourself.’

Their goodbyes said, she ended the call and, still afraid to talk to Martin, dropped the phone back into her bag.

‘Everything OK?’ Jared queried.

‘It seems to be. Though I really
hate
having to lie to him.’

‘Surely it’s better to…shall we say
mislead
him, rather than worry him with the truth?’

‘I suppose so,’ she agreed with a sigh.

The refuelling was completed quickly and efficiently and in a relatively short space of time they were airborne again.

When they’d reached the required height and levelled out, Jared unfastened their seat belts and they returned to the lounge.

After his comment about it being better to mislead her father than worry him with the truth, he had relapsed into a thoughtful silence.

Now, sitting opposite Perdita, he studied her face before remarking, ‘What with your father’s heart problems, the company’s financial difficulties and the added workload, the last few months must have proved quite a strain.’

Wondering what he was leading up to, she agreed warily, ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

Looking at the fleshless angles of her face and the hollows beneath her cheekbones, he observed, ‘Because you’re thin almost to the point of gauntness, and extremely pale.’

‘I’m not wearing any make-up,’ she pointed out, her voice defensive.

‘You hardly wore any make-up in the past, but I’ve never seen you look so wan.’

His reference to the past putting a silken noose around her neck, she observed huskily, ‘In that case it must have been the Californian sunshine that made all the difference.’

Then, as the steward wheeled in the lunch trolley and began to lay the table, she reached for her bag and said, ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to tidy my hair before lunch.’

Jared, who had risen to his feet with his customary good manners, agreed, ‘By all means.’ As she walked away he added, ‘Don’t put it up.’

‘Martin prefers it up.’

‘Martin doesn’t happen to be here—’ his voice was like steel ‘—and
I
prefer it down.’

Once in front of the shower-room mirror, she applied make-up with an unusually lavish hand before tugging a comb through her hair and pinning it into an extra-neat coil.

A little scared of Jared’s reaction to her defiance, she had hoped that when she returned the steward would still be there. But he had completed his task and gone.

Rising to his feet once more, Jared looked at the prim coil through narrowed eyes. As he moved towards her, she unconsciously took a step backwards but he seated her at the table and pushed in her chair without a word being spoken.

She was just breathing a sigh of relief when he slid a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back so that she got a glimpse of his dark face, intriguingly inverted.

Then it blurred out of focus as he bent and kissed her mouth, a hard, ruthless kiss that forced her head back and her lips apart.

Though she knew that kiss was meant to be punitive, a punishment for defying him, it made every nerve in her body come alive.

She made a little sound in her throat and the pressure eased and gentled.

When he finally freed her lips, his hand remained on her throat for a moment or two, stroking up and down, making her swallow convulsively.

As she sat quite still, trembling in every limb, he removed the pins and dropped them into his jacket pocket. Then, as the gleaming mass tumbled around her shoulders, he ran his fingers through the soft tangle of perfumed curls before stooping to bury his face in them.

Holding her breath, she recalled with a stab of pain that he had always been fascinated by her hair, referring to the pale brightness of the silken strands as trapped sunshine.

Not until he straightened and moved to take his own seat opposite did she drag air into her lungs like someone who had stayed under water for too long.

Lifting the lid from a steaming dish, he filled two plates with a generous helping of prawn pilaf before pouring them each a glass of Chablis.

Lunch proved to be a silent meal. Jared appeared to be deep in thought and Perdita was battling against a host of worries and fears, her mind full of unanswered questions.

When the steward had cleared away, they took their coffee and went to sit in the armchairs.

The silence grew oppressive and Perdita was trying to find something to say when, out of the blue, Jared asked, ‘Why are you thinking of marrying Judson? Is it just to please your father?’

‘No, it isn’t. And I’m not just
thinking
of marrying him. I
am
marrying him. All the arrangements have been made.’

‘Arrangements can be cancelled.’

‘I’ve no intention of cancelling them. I
want
to marry Martin.’

‘If it’s not to please your father,
why
do you want to marry him? Don’t tell me you love him.’

‘I
do
love him,’ she insisted.

Clearly unmoved, Jared said, ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

‘How can you possibly know whether or not I love him?’ she demanded angrily.

‘I’d lay a pound to a penny that your feelings for him are no more than lukewarm, so you might as well admit it.’

‘If you really want to know, I’m mad about him!’

Jared threw back his head and laughed.

‘How dare you laugh at me!’ she cried, made almost incoherent by anger.

‘That kind of out-and-out lie is enough to make a cat laugh,’ he told her.

‘It happens to be the truth,’ she insisted, with what dignity she could muster.

After a moment he pursued, ‘If you’re so mad about him, why has it taken you all this time to say yes?’

As she struggled to find an answer, Jared changed tack to ask, ‘Tell me, is he a good lover?’

Thrown by the question, she flared, ‘That’s none of your business.’

‘But perhaps you don’t sleep together?’ he suggested smoothly.

After a momentary hesitation, she informed him coldly, ‘Certainly we do.’

‘Where?’

‘What do you mean, where?’

‘As you both live in the same house as your father,’ Jared explained patiently, ‘it must be a little awkward.’

‘Not at all.’

‘So you share a room?’

‘Of course.’ Only when the words were out did she see the trap he’d lured her into.

‘That’s funny,’ he said meditatively. ‘Sally seemed to think you have separate rooms.’

As Perdita floundered, at a loss for words, Jared asked sardonically, ‘No comment?’

Rallying, she said, ‘Even if we do have separate rooms, it doesn’t mean we don’t love one another.’

‘I quite believe he loves you,’ Jared said. ‘Or at least what passes for love,’ he added, contempt in his voice. ‘But if you love him as much as you say you do, it strikes me as peculiar that, in this day and age, you don’t share a room.’

As she opened her mouth to protest, he went on, ‘And it strikes me as even more peculiar that you felt it necessary to lie about it.’

‘I might have lied about us actually sharing a room, but we certainly sleep together.’

‘Sally seems to think you don’t.’

‘Really?’ Perdita said bitterly, ‘What else does Sally “seem to think”?’

‘Since you ask, she seems to think that, though Judson might be mad about you, your feelings towards him are more platonic than passionate.’

‘And I suppose she knows all about feelings?’

‘Why shouldn’t she? I understand that she and her husband loved each other very much, and she was shattered when he died.

‘She told me that it’s only since becoming your housekeeper, and getting to know you and your father, that she’s come back to life and started to look forward rather than backwards.’

‘Are you telling me she’s fallen in love with Dad?’

‘Have you never noticed?’

‘Now you come to mention it,’ Perdita said slowly, ‘there’s something about her, an added glow, when they’re together…’

Then, thoughtfully, ‘And though to the best of my knowledge, Dad’s never looked at another woman since my mother died, it’s possible that he feels the same way about her.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I’ve noticed he seems to smile more when he’s with her, and when she’s not there and he talks about her, his face softens and lights up.’

‘If they do care for each other, would you mind?’

After some thought, Perdita answered honestly, ‘If you’d asked me that yesterday I’d have said no, I’d be only too pleased for them both. But as it is…’

Jared sighed. ‘I had hoped you wouldn’t hold what she did against her.’

‘Whether
I
do or not is beside the point. When Dad knows the truth, surely it’ll depend on how
he
feels about it?’

‘Does he
have
to know?’

As she hesitated, his tone eminently reasonable, Jared went on, ‘Won’t what you tell him depend on how the negotiations go?

‘I mean if everything turns out well, in view of his heart problems, wouldn’t it be safer to keep any unpleasant or worrying details from him?’

‘As in, “Least said, soonest mended”?’

‘Exactly. Though trite, there’s a great deal of sense in some of those old sayings.’

While she recognized that he was trying to protect the woman who’d helped him, there was a lot of truth in what he said.

Another thought struck her. If she agreed to keep any mention of Sally out of it, it might help to bring about the kind of settlement she’d originally been hoping for.

‘If I agree, as far as it goes, are you willing to start discussions straight away?’

His voice quietly adamant, he said, ‘There’s no need to hurry. I plan to stay in the States for at least ten days, so
there’ll be time enough for business when we reach California.’

It wasn’t the answer she wanted but, recognizing the futility of arguing, she let it go.

H
OPING
to get a clearer idea of what she would be facing when they reached the West Coast, Perdita braced herself and began, ‘I take it you still live in San Jose?’

‘As a matter of fact, I don’t.’

‘Oh…’

‘San Jose had too many unhappy memories.’

Watching his face darken, and feeling the silken noose that was the past tightening around her neck, she asked huskily, ‘So where are you living now?’

‘Though my main American business interests are still in Silicon Valley, about eighteen months ago I bought a vineyard in the Napa Valley.’

Surprised, she asked, ‘How do you find the time to run a vineyard?’

‘I don’t. I’ve an excellent manager who takes care of the day-to-day running of the place. You see I’ve worldwide business interests which necessitate a fair bit of to-ing and fro-ing.

‘I’ve a good right-hand man who would happily do the travelling for me but, until a month or so ago, I’ve felt the need to keep on the move. However, between each bout of travelling, I’ve gone back home to relax and unwind.’

Perdita found herself wondering how a man who just three
short years ago had been virtually bankrupt could have made such a staggering recovery.

As though reading her thoughts, he went on, ‘Three years ago, when I was on the point of losing everything, my godfather bailed me out.

‘He’d been having a tough time himself, then a load of shares he’d considered virtually worthless suddenly came good and, overnight almost, he became a very rich man.

‘Less than six months later, when he died, he made me his sole beneficiary, and that’s when I started to add to his business empire.’

Though she knew Jared was a businessman born and bred, she had never thought of him as a wine-grower and, a little curious, she asked, ‘What made you decide to go into viniculture?’

‘My wife has always preferred the countryside and I wanted to have somewhere green and pleasant for her to live. The Napa Valley is beautiful, so it struck me as ideal.’

Jared’s casual answer knocked Perdita sideways and she found herself fighting for breath.

When she could drag air into her lungs once more, she asked, ‘Then you’re married?’

‘Yes, I’m married.’

She knew she ought to be glad, but instead that confirmation was like a knife turning in her heart. Momentarily swamped by the pain, she clenched her hands until the oval nails bit deep into her palms.

Then, afraid he might pick up that fierce surge of emotion, she gritted her teeth and struggled hard for at least some degree of composure.

‘In view of that,’ he went on, ‘I’ve recently got disenchanted with travelling and having my life taken over by business interests.

‘I’ve some very good men working for me. So in the future
I’m planning to delegate a lot of the running of the various companies and just keep a guiding hand on the reins.

‘At the same time, however, I wanted something interesting and congenial that would keep me occupied at home, so a vineyard seemed ideal.’

When she felt she could trust her voice, she queried huskily, ‘Have you any children?’

‘No,’ he answered, his voice even. ‘Though one day I hope my wife and I will have a family.’

His words only served to increase her anguish, her feeling of utter desolation. Once upon a time
she
had dreamt of being the mother of his children.

That lovely dream had stayed alive, bright and shining, until she had discovered that he couldn’t be trusted, then, sadly, painfully, it had died.

So get a grip, she urged herself. All this emotion she was feeling was false. It no longer related to the man himself, but to a dream. An illusion.

The man she had fallen in love with didn’t exist. Had never existed, except in her imagination. Even so, it had shaken her rigid to find he had a wife.

She found herself wondering how long he’d been married. Judging by what he’d said about travelling, probably not very long…

Seeing he was watching her, and knowing how well he could pick up what she was thinking and feeling, she took a deep breath and queried, ‘What is your vineyard called?’

‘Wolf Rock Winery.’

‘Is that where we’re heading?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is your wife there now?’ She had
had
to ask, and she was relieved that her voice had remained steady.

‘No, not at the moment.’

She was just breathing a quick sigh of relief when he added evenly, ‘Though she will be soon.’

Perdita was trying to come to terms with that knowledge when a thought occurred to her that made her go hot all over. Suppose Jared had told his wife about
her
?

She desperately hoped not. It would be bad enough having to face the other woman without her knowing about the past and that passionate and, in the end, infinitely bitter relationship.

However, there was nothing she could do to change either the past or the present.

All at once she felt dull and defeated and weary, emotionally drained.

Watching her lovely face, sad now and oddly empty, Jared saw the paleness beneath the make-up, the shadowed eyes and heavy lids, the slight droop of her lips, and felt a strong urge to take her in his arms and hold her close.

But enough anger and resentment still lingered to nullify that sudden surge of sympathy and he merely said, ‘In spite of your earlier rest, you still look shattered. Why don’t you get another hour or two’s sleep before we land at San Francisco?’

Relieved at the thought of being on her own, Perdita rose to her feet, then, recalling what had happened the last time, paused to pick up her bag.

As he had done previously, Jared accompanied her to the bedroom door, but this time he merely said, ‘I’ll ask Henry to bring you some tea well before we reach our destination.’

When the door closed behind her, moving like a zombie, Perdita slipped off her shoes and once more removed her skirt and jacket before stretching out on the bed.

Though she recognized that the room was at a comfortable temperature she felt chilled, cold inside, and pulled the soft lightness of the duvet over her.

She was on the verge of sleep when her mobile rang.
Reaching for her handbag, she retrieved her phone and mumbled, ‘Hello?’

‘Dita…?’ Martin’s voice held a mixture of relief and impatience. ‘I’ve had a lot of trouble getting through to you. What the devil’s going on?’

‘Didn’t Helen explain?’

‘It’s been very hectic this end and when she couldn’t reach me she left a text message which I’ve only just picked up.

‘As I couldn’t immediately get through to you, I talked to your father. He confirmed that you’d gone to the States as Calhoun’s guest, and that you were staying at Salingers’ headquarters in New York.

‘I know the negotiations are urgent, but I’m not too happy at the thought of you going off with a man none of us know anything about.’

Perdita was trying to find something reassuring to say when he queried, ‘So what’s Calhoun like? Is he a married man?’

The question brought a tide of emotion surging back, but she answered as levelly as possible, ‘Yes, he’s married.’

Then, hoping to divert further questions, she asked quickly, ‘So how are things going at your end?’

‘As I said, pretty hectic. But, with a little bit of luck, it will have been worth it. Mr Ibaraki is quite happy to…’

For a short while he talked business, then he asked, ‘So is Calhoun’s wife there?’

‘I understand she’ll be joining him.’ This time, caught unawares, Perdita’s voice shook betrayingly.

Martin picked it up at once. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. ‘You seem upset.’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she lied valiantly. ‘I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep very well last night, and it’s been a long journey.’

Martin, who disliked travelling, agreed, ‘Of course. And the time difference doesn’t help.’

He sounded sympathetic and, afraid she would burst into tears, Perdita said quickly, ‘I’d better go now.’

‘Why the hurry?’

‘My battery’s almost run out. Last night I forgot to charge it, and I haven’t got my charger with me.’

‘Then I’ll keep in touch via Salingers. The best of luck with the negotiations. I hope you get on all right with Calhoun’s wife. Things like that can make a difference.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed hollowly.

‘Love you.’

Unable to either answer or stem the emotion any longer, she rang off and dropped the phone back into her bag. Then, curled under the duvet, she gave way to what she recognized as futile tears.

They were still sliding silently down her cheeks when sleep claimed her.

She had no idea how long she’d slept when she was awakened by a knock at the door.

Knowing it would be Henry with the promised tea she sat up, a tangle of pale silky hair tumbling round her shoulders, and trapping the duvet under her arms, called, ‘Come in.’

But it was Jared who carried in a tray set with dainty sandwiches and small cakes. ‘Tea time,’ he said cheerfully.

Every nerve-ending in her body tightening in a sudden panicky confusion, she sat quite still.

When he had put the tray down with care, he settled himself on the edge of the bed, a great deal too close for comfort.

Noticing her frozen expression, he remarked, ‘There’s no need to look like a scared rabbit. I’m not planning to ravish you.’

‘I’m glad about that,’ she managed shakily.

His white grin flashed briefly. ‘A rabbit with attitude, I see.’

When he moved a little, either by accident or design, his hip pressed against her thigh and she flinched.

Obviously amused by her reaction, he asked, ‘So how are you feeling now?’

Even in her own ears she sounded breathless as she answered, ‘Much better, thank you.’

Studying her face, where the traces of tears were still evident, he observed, ‘Well, you certainly don’t look it.’ Then, more gently, ‘Why the tears?’

Needing an excuse, she told him, ‘Martin phoned.’

Sardonically, Jared enquired, ‘And does he usually make you cry when he phones?’

‘Of course not,’ she denied sharply. ‘But these circumstances aren’t usual…and…and I found I was missing him.’

‘You sound like love’s young dream,’ Jared observed, mockery in his voice.

‘And you sound like the heartless devil you are.’

He grinned. ‘I must say I prefer you with a dash of spirit.’ Then, with a gleam in his eye, ‘So what exactly did you tell lover boy?’

Annoyed by the jeer, but unwilling to show it, she answered shortly, ‘Not a great deal. He’d already been in touch with Dad, who’d given him all the gen.’

‘And?’

‘I couldn’t see any point in worrying him, so I let him go on believing I was in New York and everything was all right.’

‘He wasn’t concerned about you flying off with a man you didn’t know?’

‘As a matter of fact, he was. He made a point of asking if “Mr Calhoun” was married, and if his wife would be with him.’

‘And you told him…?’

‘I told him yes.’

‘That set his mind at rest?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Perhaps it’s just as well. Otherwise, he might have been
donning his shining armour and saddling up his white steed to ride to your rescue.’

‘Sarcastic swine,’ she muttered.

Jared clicked his tongue reprovingly. ‘Now, is that any way for a nicely brought up young lady to talk?’

‘If you think—’

He put a finger to her lips, stopping the heated words and effectively silencing her. ‘We’d better leave any further invective until later, otherwise our tea will get cold.’

While she fumed helplessly, he filled two china cups with tea, added a little milk and handed her one. Then, putting a selection of small triangular sandwiches on a plate, he set it down within easy reach before drinking his own tea.

In the confined space he was altogether too close, too masculine, and it was a great relief when there was a tap at the door and the steward’s voice said, ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, sir, but the Captain says could you give him a minute before we land? There’s something he’d like to check with you.’

‘Tell him I’ll be along directly.’

Jared emptied his cup and replaced it on the tray, then, feeling in his pocket, he produced her hairpins. ‘Yours, I think. Though I would prefer you
not
to use them.’

Seeing he was waiting for an answer, she muttered, ‘Very well.’

He rose to his feet. ‘It’ll take another half an hour to reach San Francisco, so you have plenty of time to finish your tea and freshen up.’

Their landing at San Francisco International Airport was as smooth as the take-off had been and, in no time at all, it seemed, their baggage had been unloaded and they were descending the aircraft steps.

While Henry followed with their bags, a proprietorial hand
at her waist, Jared escorted Perdita across the hot tarmac to the terminal building.

He was well known to the airport officials and, because they had flown from England to the States and both had dual nationalities, the formalities were over quickly.

Perdita had hoped to claim her own passport but, with an easy movement that took her unawares, Jared slipped it into his pocket.

When she would have argued, he said indulgently, ‘Darling, you’re such a scatterbrain. It’ll be safer with me.’

Her teeth clenched in helpless rage, she had to watch while the little group smiled, before she was shepherded away.

They took the elevator down to the underground parking lot where a white open-topped sports car was waiting in the long-stay section.

Jared unlocked the car and helped Perdita in, while Henry dealt with the luggage.

When their bags were safely stowed in the boot, Jared thanked him and the two men exchanged a few words before the steward turned to walk away.

A few moments later they were leaving the relative gloom of the parking lot and climbing into the dazzling afternoon sunshine. Outside, the cloudless sky was the heavenly blue of lapis lazuli, while the dusty, fume-laden air hung hot and sticky with humidity.

It was three years since Perdita had been on this part of the West Coast but it didn’t appear to have changed at all. There were still streams of traffic, massive wayside hoardings and a straggle of unprepossessing glass and concrete buildings.