Claiming His Wedding Night (3 page)

Every trace of colour draining from her face, leaving the blusher standing out like a circus clown’s make-up, she set down the cup with a clatter, splashing coffee into the saucer.

Staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless, she wondered wildly if all the strain of her father’s heart surgery and the company’s financial problems, coupled with the little scene outside the Arundel, had affected her brain and she was imagining the whole thing.

‘Hello, Perdita,’ he said softly.

Though she hadn’t heard him speak for three years, she would have known that deep, attractive voice anywhere. It could have called her from the grave.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘Standing in for Sean Calhoun.’ Jared’s tone was neutral, almost pleasant, but his grey eyes were as cold as the Atlantic in winter. ‘So, if you want to save your father’s company, you’ll have to negotiate with me.’

P
ERDITA
jumped to her feet and, her heart racing, scarcely able to breathe, stammered, ‘I…I don’t understand. Do you mean you work for Salingers?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Then what is this?’ she demanded raggedly. ‘Some kind of joke?’

‘No, not at all.’

‘I don’t believe you. If you don’t work for Salingers—’

‘I don’t actually
work
for them, but you could say I’m here on their behalf,’ he broke in smoothly.

She shook her head. ‘No, no…Even if it means waiting, I’d prefer to deal with Mr Calhoun. I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘I’m afraid you have no option. As I said before, if you want to save your father’s company you’ll have to negotiate with me.’

Clutching her bag, she moved a step or two towards the door, desperate to escape. But, tall and dark and dangerous, he was effectively blocking her way.

Hearing the panic in her own voice, she said, ‘I want to leave.’

‘Giving up so easily?’ he taunted.

‘Not at all,’ she denied jerkily. ‘I’ll talk to Salingers. Explain to them. Ask to see someone else.’

‘I’m afraid it won’t be any use.’

‘Why won’t it?’

‘Because I own the company.’

‘You
own Salingers?’ she said through dry lips.

‘That’s right.’ Smiling a little at her shocked face, he went on, ‘So I suggest you sit down again and we’ll talk over breakfast, as planned.’

Shaking her head, she insisted, ‘No, I want to go now. There’s absolutely no point in staying. I know perfectly well that you’ve no intention of helping.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m quite sure we could come to some kind of agreement that would satisfy both of us.’

It was a trick, and she knew it.

‘No, I don’t trust you.’

‘You can’t afford not to,’ he pointed out laconically. ‘Without my help JB will go under, and you know it.’

It was the truth. But she couldn’t believe that he really intended to help.

There was a series of slight bumps, and part of her mind registered that the plane was still moving away from the terminal building.

Getting more anxious by the moment, she repeated hoarsely, ‘I want to leave.’

When he made no attempt to move, taking her courage by the scruff of the neck, she advanced towards him purposefully. ‘If you don’t let me pass, I’ll be forced to scream.’

‘Dear me,’ he said mildly. ‘We can’t have that. Though Henry may
look
a little like a gigolo, he’s really quite sensitive and easily upset.’

Knowing he was laughing at her, Perdita gritted her teeth. ‘I
mean
it.’

Without moving, he queried, ‘How is your father’s health these days?’

‘What?’

‘I understand he’s recently undergone delicate heart surgery. Can he afford any further stress?’

When, white to the lips, she merely stood and stared at him, he went on, ‘So suppose you take the sensible option and stay and talk to me?’

‘It wouldn’t do any good.’

‘Let’s have breakfast and see, shall we?’

While he was speaking there was a knock, the door slid aside and the steward put his head round. ‘Excuse me, sir, but the Captain asked me to let you know we have a slot and will be taking off in a minute or so.’

‘Thanks, Henry.’

As the man disappeared, Jared turned to Perdita. ‘It looks like breakfast will have to wait until we’re airborne.’

Airborne.

Her paralyzed brain clicking into gear, she tried to push past him. ‘I must leave before it takes off. I must!’ she cried frantically.

Catching her wrist, not hurting, but keeping her where she was, he said, ‘I’ m afraid you’ve left it much too late.’

‘No, no, you have to let me get out! I can’t possibly go with you!’

‘Once again, you have no option. The outer door’s secured and we’re at the top of the runway. We need to be seated for take off.’

As she strove to come to terms with this latest development, Jared urged her into the small forward cabin, where the steward was already buckled into one of the jump seats.

Recognizing the futility of arguing, she submitted to being pressed into one of the seats. Then Jared fastened her belt and tightened it, before taking his place beside her.

A few moments later the plane began to move down the runway, gathering speed.

Take-off seemed quick and effortless and, as soon as they had climbed steeply to the required height and levelled out, the steward disappeared through a curtained doorway.

Perdita, who had sat like a statue, her thoughts in chaos, burst out, ‘I don’t know what you hope to achieve by this—’

Jared put a finger to her lips, stopping her breath and sending a shiver running through her. ‘I’ll tell you what I hope to achieve as soon as we’ve had breakfast, but in the meantime we don’t want to upset Henry.’

He unfastened their seat belts and shepherded her through to the lounge area.

‘I really don’t want to eat,’ she protested. ‘In the circumstances, I’d prefer to know just what you’re playing at.’

His voice holding a quiet authority, he said, ‘I’ll be happy to tell you, once breakfast is over.’

When, biting her lip, she was once again seated at the table, he stood for a moment or two looking down at her before taking the chair opposite.

He was dressed in oatmeal-coloured trousers and a well-cut lightweight jacket, with a navy-blue silk shirt and a matching tie loosened at the neck. His crisp dark hair was parted on the left and cut and styled conventionally.

But even as the thought struck her, she knew there was nothing remotely conventional about Jared.

Unable to look away, she found herself staring at his handsome face. He was the same, yet not the same. Any trace of the younger, carefree Jared she had first met was gone. This man was altogether harder, tougher, with a mature width of shoulder and lines of pain etched beside his mouth.

Meeting those brilliant eyes and glimpsing a cold purpose in them, she shuddered and tore her gaze away just as the steward wheeled in a breakfast trolley loaded with several silver dishes.

He was about to serve them when Jared said briskly, ‘Thank you, Henry. We’ll help ourselves. But perhaps you’d be good enough to fetch Miss Boyd a clean cup and saucer?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ The dirty crockery was whisked away and immediately replaced by fresh. Then, with a slight inclination of his gleaming head, the steward withdrew silently.

‘Coffee?’ Jared enquired politely.

Subduing a sudden desire to laugh hysterically, Perdita answered with equal politeness, ‘Please.’

He filled both their cups before lifting the lids of the various dishes and enquiring, ‘What’s it to be? Bacon and eggs? Sausages? Kidneys? Mushrooms?’

‘Nothing, thank you. I couldn’t eat a thing,’ she told him stiltedly.

‘Try. You’re too thin as it is.’ Looking at her set face, he added, ‘Starving yourself isn’t going to solve anything and, if I remember rightly, you used to enjoy bacon and eggs.’

She sat in tight-lipped silence while he served her with a generous amount of crisp bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs before helping himself to the same.

Then, his eyes fixed on her face, he waited.

His willpower proved to be stronger than hers—as it always had been—and finally she gave in and picked up her knife and fork.

He waited until she put the first forkful of food into her mouth before starting on his own.

Once Perdita began to eat, in spite of all the trauma, she found that her normal healthy appetite was back and she cleared her plate.

Jared made no comment, but he swapped the plate for a clean one and put the toast-rack within easy reach.

When she sat unmoving, he helped himself to some toast and spread butter and marmalade on it in a leisurely fashion.

Seeing he had no intention whatsoever of saying anything until he was good and ready, she threw in the towel and followed suit.

She had just taken her first bite when, with a glance from
beneath long dark lashes, he remarked slyly, ‘The last time we had breakfast together like this, we were in Las Vegas.’

Her eyes on her plate, she kept chewing in silence.

‘But perhaps you don’t remember?’

She remembered only too well.

All her life Perdita had been cosseted and cared for, guarded as well as any chaperoned miss from the Edwardian era.

Naturally quiet and a little shy, and loving her father as much as he loved her, it had never occurred to her to feel caged and stifled by so much care and affection.

That was, not until she met Jared and wanted enough freedom to spread her wings.

At first everything had gone well. Her father had been prepared to both like and respect him until Martin had mentioned that Jared had a bad reputation with regard to women.

Suddenly waking up to the fact that his beloved daughter might be in danger, John had ordered her to give, ‘that young Dangerfield’ a wide berth.

She would certainly have rebelled but, as her father had recently suffered his first heart attack and his doctors had warned against worries or stress of any kind, she had, outwardly at least, complied.

For several months she and Jared had been forced to meet in secret, snatched moments together that had left both of them dissatisfied and bitterly unhappy.

He had begged her to marry him and present her father with a fait accompli, but she had been afraid to chance it while his recovery was still uncertain.

Then, while Elmer was away in New York, John had had to go into Mardale, a Los Angeles hospital, for a week of special and extensive tests.

Perdita had made up her mind that if the results were good and showed that her father was more or less recovered, she would tell him the truth.

When the time had come for John to go to Los Angeles, he had refused to let her accompany him, saying there was no point in her simply hanging around a hospital all that time. She would be much better off at home.

‘After all,’ he had added, ‘it’s not as if you’ll be on your own. Martin will be there.’

Truth to tell, she had been pleased to stay behind. It had given her a few precious days to be with Jared.

That sudden taste of freedom had gone to both their heads, and when he had suggested a trip to Las Vegas she had eagerly agreed.

All the tawdry glitter of that city in the desert had seemed to be right and romantic, and she had been blissfully happy to be with the man she loved, with no idea how it was all going to end…

Feeling suddenly chilled through and through, Perdita snapped off the thought and brought her mind back to the present.

What had made him mention Las Vegas? she wondered. She didn’t for a moment believe it was just an idle remark. Jared never did or said anything without a good reason.

Which meant it would only be playing into his hands to ask.

Holding on to her facade of composure as best she could, she ate her toast in silence while she waited for him to finish his coffee.

As soon as he had, she gathered her courage and said, ‘Now perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell me what all this is about?’

‘All what?’ he asked innocently.

‘This…whole thing.’

‘You mean our meeting? But surely you—’

‘Don’t try to play games with me,’ she broke in angrily. ‘This must have been planned right from the start.’

‘That’s quite true,’ he admitted.

‘So it was
you
who made sure Salingers approached my
father to suggest they might have a solution to all his company’s financial problems?’

‘Right.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘You planned to wait until the very last minute and then withdraw your offer of help.’

‘Wrong.’

‘I don’t believe you…Your intention was to watch JB Electronics go down.’

‘Now why should I want to do that?’

‘Revenge.’

‘Ah…I can’t deny revenge is sweet.’

‘But after three years! Surely you’ve moved on? Forgotten the past?’

‘Have you?’

Watching all the colour drain from her face, he said, ‘It wouldn’t appear so.’

‘Even if things aren’t forgotten,’ she argued desperately, ‘surely they cease to hurt so much? Anger cools…’

‘I’m not so sure about that.’

Though his tone was quiet, almost pleasant, she began to shiver.

Seeing that slight betraying movement, he smiled a little. ‘Though I
am
sure of one thing. As the old saying goes, “Revenge is a dish best served cold”.’

‘So I was right,’ she choked. ‘You
are
planning to stand by and gloat while Dad’s company goes under?’

‘You’re quite mistaken.’

He sounded as if he meant it and, brought up short, she gazed at him, perplexed.

‘Then what
are
you planning? There has to be some reason for…’ The words tailed off as a frightening thought struck her.

‘For you being here?’ He smiled coldly. ‘Oh, yes, there’s a reason. More than one, in fact.’

With a boldness she was far from feeling, she demanded, ‘Well, are you going to tell me? Or would you prefer me to guess?’

‘What is your guess?’ he asked interestedly.

Her throat dry, she said, ‘That I was right about you wanting revenge…I just got the wrong person.’

When he made no attempt to deny it, she swallowed convulsively. ‘So this whole thing was set up just to lure me to the airport and on to the plane…Well, it can’t possibly work!’

‘It’s worked so far,’ he pointed out.

‘But it’s kidnapping! And, in case you haven’t realized, kidnapping is against the law.’

Her attempt at sarcasm only made him smile.

‘How can you call it kidnapping? You got on the plane of your own free will.’

‘But when I wanted to get off, you wouldn’t allow me to.’

‘My dear Perdita, surely you realize that people can’t just get off a plane and start wandering about on the runway.’

Realizing it was fruitless to keep arguing, she relapsed into silence.

If luring her here
was
so he could extract some kind of revenge—and he had failed to deny her accusation—how far did he mean to go? Was it his intention simply to scare her? Give her an uncomfortable couple of hours before letting her go?