Claiming His Wedding Night (9 page)

‘That’s right. I’m surprised you remembered.’

‘It’s a lovely name and a memorable one, but it struck me that I’ve never heard it before.’

‘No, you won’t have done. It’s a new rosé wine we’re just launching. Don, who is a romantic at heart, named it.

‘The grapes are a new variety we’ve been growing experimentally and, in order to produce something really special, we’ve tried marrying them with various other grape varieties. Don has put a great deal of time and skill into the project and, if he’s got the balance right, which I believe he has, we should have a winner…’

He sounded relaxed, easy and after a moment or so her own tension began to drain away.

‘As a matter of fact there’s a bottle chilled and waiting to be opened,’ he went on, ‘so, when you’re ready to eat, you can try some and tell me what you think of it.’

‘I’m ready whenever you are.’

‘If that’s the case, I’ll give Sam his supper and then we can make a start.’

Supper
.

Watching him put the dog’s bowl down, she thought that very soon her twenty-four hours would be up and he would want an answer.

But she was no nearer a decision.

How could she say yes and put herself in thrall to him once more?

Yet how could she say no and condemn her father to purgatory?

As Jared accompanied her to the table a thought struck her that made her feel hollow inside. If, in the end, she was forced to accept his proposition, how soon would he want her in his bed?

W
HEN
Jared removed the protective table cover Perdita saw that it had once again been set with linen napkins and crystal glasses.

But this time, as well as a candle, there was a beautiful centrepiece of fresh flowers and, in each of their places, an elaborate starter of crab claws and smoked salmon, while on a nearby trolley a range of silver dishes kept warm.

‘It looks as though it’s a special occasion,’ she observed. ‘A celebration.’

‘It is.’

She waited for him to go on but, without elaborating, he pulled out her chair and seated her. Then, still standing, he lit the candle.

The sudden flare of light from beneath turned his handsome face into a mask, bringing some of his features to the fore and making black shadows in the hollows.

Sitting down opposite, he reached for a bottle of wine that stood in a cooler and, having opened it, he poured a glass and passed it to her.

The label, she saw, had the black silhouette of a graceful swallow-like bird soaring into an evening sky of palest pink and gold.

She lifted the glass and savoured the fragrant bouquet
before taking a sip. The wine was fresh and dry and smooth as silk, with a light delicate flavour and deeper undertones that she found extremely pleasing.

Taking another sip, she remarked, ‘It’s very distinctive. Though it’s so smooth, it leaves just a hint of sparkle on your tongue. I don’t recall ever having had anything quite like it before.’

‘I agree it’s very different. That’s why I wanted to know what you thought of it.’

‘I think it’s lovely,’ she said sincerely.

‘Don believes it might eventually take its place alongside pink champagne as a wine that’s perfect for birthdays and weddings and celebrations in general.’

The delicious taste still lingering, she said, ‘I’m sure he’s right.’

‘Which makes it ideal for tonight.’

Having topped up her wine, he poured himself a glass and raised it in a toast. ‘To us.’

A little uncertainly, she echoed, ‘To us.’ She took a sip before asking, ‘So what is this special occasion? What are we celebrating?’

His lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘I thought you might have guessed.’

But, even as she started to shake her head, she knew. Of course she did.

He was supremely confident that she would accept his proposition and go back to him.

Quivering inside, she waited until she was quite sure her voice would be steady before saying, ‘Don’t you think that, as I haven’t yet given you an answer, your
celebration
may well be a little premature? I might say no.’

Candlelight gleamed in his eyes. ‘I hope not. But, in any case, you’ve guessed wrongly.’

‘Then what…?’

‘I thought you might remember. Today is our third wedding anniversary…’

A shockwave ran through her. Of course. Usually she remembered only too well.

For the past two years, when the ninth of June came round she had struggled to push the knowledge and the memories to the back of her mind. Struggled to appear her normal well balanced self in front of her father and Martin, while all the old wounds reopened and she bled inwardly.

On this occasion, however, all the trauma, instead of reminding her, had somehow managed to crowd it out of her mind.

‘And as this will be the first time we’ve spent our anniversary together,’ he went on, ‘a celebration seemed to be called for.

‘Now, shall we start before Hilary’s best culinary efforts are wasted?’

The starter, which proved to be delicious, was followed by melt-in-the-mouth chicken fillets stuffed with smoked oysters, tiny new potatoes, garden peas and a béchamel sauce. A dessert of raspberry shortcake and cream that was to die for made a fitting end to a special meal.

In spite of the lingering aftermath of shock, Perdita had enjoyed it and, when her plate was empty, she sat back with a sigh.

‘Cheese?’ Jared asked.

She shook her head. ‘Just coffee, please.’

He rose to get it while she moved to sit in one of the comfortable loungers.

Out of range of the candlelight it was very nearly dark. Beyond the terrace the pool was as black as the Styx and on the crest of the hill the trees made inky silhouettes against the night sky.

When he reached the bar he touched a switch and the terrace, the patio and the pool area were lit by lanterns which gave the scene a romantic fairy tale appearance.

Returning with the coffee, he took a seat by her side and, stretching his long legs indolently, asked the question she had been dreading.

‘So, have you made up your mind, Perdita?’

Shaking her head, she stammered, ‘N-no, you’ll need to be patient.’

His eyes on her face, he insisted, ‘Considering everything, I think I’ve
been
patient. The twenty-four hours are up, and now I’d like an answer.’

‘I can’t give you one,’ she cried in desperation. ‘I just can’t. I haven’t had enough time to think.’

Which was rubbish and they both knew it.

‘What is there to think about? You know as well as I do that you don’t really have a choice.’

‘But I have,’ she insisted jerkily. ‘I could always say no.’

His confidence in no way shaken, he asked, ‘Could you really stand by and see your father made bankrupt and homeless?’

Her failure to answer answered for her.

‘No, I didn’t think you could.’ His voice held the faintest hint of triumph. ‘With his heart in the state it is, the strain might even kill him, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that on your conscience.’

‘Whereas you
have
no conscience,’ she flashed.

Jared shook his head. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. As he’s my father-in-law, I would much prefer not to have any part in his demise. However, knowing how much you love him, I’m quite sure that while you have the power to prevent it, you wouldn’t put his life at risk. And of course it wouldn’t only be your father who would suffer; there’s your ex-fiancé and
his
father to think about.’

Hounded into a corner, she turned at bay. ‘Neither my father, nor Martin, nor Elmer would want me to sacrifice myself.’

‘How very melodramatic,’ Jared said derisively.

‘Mock all you like,’ she cried, ‘but if you honestly think I
could come back to you and pretend to love you, you’re mistaken.’

For an instant he looked as if she’d slapped him. Then, his face set, he said flatly, ‘You misunderstand me. I don’t want you to “pretend” to love me…’

As she stared at him, his eyes hard, his voice icy, he added, ‘I really don’t care a jot how you feel about me. All I want is you in my bed and available if I so much as lift a finger.’

‘I was right,’ she said shakily. ‘You
are
crazy.’

‘Then I prefer to be crazy with you
in
my life.’

‘It w-would never work,’ she stammered. ‘If you still love me—’

‘I don’t…’

His denial hit her like a blow over the heart. She had foolishly imagined that, beneath all the anger and disillusionment, he still felt something for her other than mere lust.

‘This is a purely physical thing,’ he went on, rubbing it in, ‘a kind of sickness, a fever in the blood, an obsession—give it any name you like. But, whatever you call it, I need you back in order to cure it, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to achieve that end. Luckily, I’m rich enough to be able to—’

‘Buy me?’ she flung at him.

‘I was about to say, save your father’s company, but if you prefer to put it that way…’

‘That’s what it amounts to.’

‘So is your answer no?’

After a moment she said bitterly, ‘You know perfectly well it has to be yes.’

‘Don’t look so desperate. It’s not as if I’m asking you to do something you haven’t done before, and very willingly, I might add.’

Her face flaming, she said, ‘That was different.’

‘In what way?’

‘Then I loved you.’

He laughed harshly. ‘You might have been in love with love, but never with me. If you’d really loved me you would have trusted me. Been willing to
listen
and believe me when I told you I was innocent. But instead you jumped to the conclusion that, because you had absented yourself on our wedding night, I’d either found a replacement or paid the nearest hooker—’

‘How
could
I believe you when—’ She broke off, biting her lip. ‘Oh, what’s the use of going through all that again?’

‘None whatsoever while your mind is still so closed that you’re unwilling to admit that there might be another explanation, rather than the obvious one, for what you saw.’

‘I don’t see how there can be,’ she said, a stubborn set to her chin.

‘There can be, and there is.’

‘I wish I could believe you.’

‘Well, whether you believe me or not, as you’re my wife and I’ve waited three long years for this moment, I want you in my bed tonight.’

As she shivered, his eyes on her face, he continued softly, ‘I want to feel your warm naked body against mine, I want to hear your moans as you writhe under me, I want to make love to you until you’re begging for mercy and I’m completely sated.’

While she shuddered at his words, against her will she found herself aroused by them, and her heart began to race madly while a pool of molten heat formed low in the pit of her stomach.

As though he knew exactly what she was feeling, he asked softly, ‘Does the idea turn you on?’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ she denied hoarsely. ‘I hate the very thought.’

‘Your mind might hate the idea of you being naked and vulnerable in my arms, but I believe your body will love it.’

She knew only too well that what he said was true.

Taking a deep unsteady breath, she asked, ‘How long would you want me…?’

‘In my bed? For as long as it takes to finally get you out of my system.’

Her voice scarcely above a whisper, she asked, ‘And then what?’

He shrugged as if it was of no consequence. ‘When I’ve finished with you, Judson can have you back.’

She flinched at his deliberate cruelty.

‘If he still wants my leftovers, that is.’

Flicked on the raw, she flashed, ‘Why shouldn’t he? You seem keen enough to have
his
.’

‘I don’t believe that you and he have ever been lovers,’ Jared told her evenly.

Before she could respond, he suggested with blatant mockery, ‘But perhaps he “respected” you too much to actually try?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped.

‘Then how come you managed to keep him at bay?’

‘I didn’t do any such thing,’ she denied.

But, though it had been subconscious, she had done exactly that. She had tended to regard Martin as a brother, think of him in a platonic way, rather than as a man with needs.

With that unnerving ability to read her mind, Jared pursued, ‘Was his failure to stimulate your interest enough to dampen his ardour?’

The moment the words were spoken she realized how true they were, though until that minute she had been too grateful for Martin’s restraint to question the reason for it.

Watching her face, Jared said with satisfaction, ‘That appears to be right on the money.’ Then, sounding genuinely puzzled, ‘So if you don’t really love him and he doesn’t turn you on, what made you decide to marry him?’

‘I
do
love him and he
does
turn me on—’

Seeing that Jared still looked unconvinced, she demanded, ‘Do you seriously believe that Martin has remained celibate for nearly three years while he waited for me?’

‘Why not? I have.’

She gaped at him, hardly able to credit it, yet hearing an unmistakable ring of truth in his voice.

Knocked sideways, needing to regain her equilibrium, she said, ‘But, to finish answering your question, the main reason I decided to marry Martin was that I was sure I could trust him.’

The shot went home and she saw a flicker of pain and anger cross Jared’s dark face before he asked, ‘If you really believe that, why did it take you so long to agree to marry him?’

‘Having made one bad mistake made me cautious.’

‘And you didn’t think that marrying Judson would be a mistake?’

‘No. As I just said, I knew I could trust him.’

‘Really?’ Jared said shortly, ‘Well, in answer to
your
question, no, I don’t believe Judson has stayed celibate for three years while he waited for you. In fact I
know
he hasn’t.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked tightly.

‘Though he’s been very discreet about it, he keeps a mistress.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Then you should. She’s a curvaceous blonde. Her name’s Jackie Long and she has a flat in Olds Court, Fulham, which Judson pays for. He visits her there quite regularly.’

Badly shaken, Perdita said desperately, ‘He
may
have done in the past, but I’m sure he hasn’t since we got engaged.’

‘That’s where you’re mistaken. He’s been visiting his lady love just as regularly. He spent a couple of hours with her just before he flew to Japan.’

‘You’re lying!’ she choked. But, even as she spoke, she knew he wasn’t.

Though all she had ever felt for Martin was affection, the knowledge that he had been deceiving her knocked her completely off balance. She had believed in him implicitly, never for a moment suspecting that he had another woman.

But it might be partly
her
fault. If she’d agreed to marry him sooner…

Reading her thoughts with deadly accuracy, Jared said, ‘A wife, especially an unworldly one, isn’t necessarily enough for some men.’

Would that have applied to Martin?

Yesterday she would have said no with confidence. But now she was shaken to realize that she hadn’t known him at all.

‘Why so shocked?’ Jared asked. ‘Unless you had him down as some kind of saint?’

Perhaps, subconsciously, she had.

‘If you did, to find he has feet of clay must be—’

Suddenly all the anger she felt was directed towards Jared. ‘You’re a fine one to take the moral high ground and stand in judgement!’ she spat at him. ‘Martin may not be perfect, but he wouldn’t have taken another woman to bed on his wedding night.’