Claiming His Wedding Night (8 page)

She glimpsed the old ever-thoughtful Jared when, handing them to her, he said, ‘You’re not yet used to this kind of sun, so you may need both of these.’

Grateful for his consideration, she said a sincere, ‘Thank you.’

As they turned towards the house, Sam lumbered to his feet and attempted to join them.

‘No, you stay here with Hilary,’ Jared said firmly. ‘The last time I took you for a drive you barked all the time.’

‘I expect he was excited,’ Perdita offered.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Jared agreed. ‘But it didn’t make it any less distracting.’

Napa was an attractive little place, sunny and colourful, with its open-air cafés and shops. Pulling into a parking lot, Jared stopped beneath the shade of a tree and led the way to a small but high class boutique with designer dresses in the window.

‘You should get what you want here.’

It seemed dark inside after the brightness, and it took a moment or two for Perdita’s eyes to adjust to the gloom.

A carefully made-up woman with hair dyed an unlikely shade of red came forward and, having assessed and approved Jared’s look of affluence, enquired in a nasal drawl, ‘May I help you?’

‘We’d like to look at some swimwear.’

Apparently selling anything other than dresses was beneath her and the woman, clearly the manageress, signalled to a young assistant to serve them.

The girl, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Jared since they’d walked in, came over eagerly and smiled at him.

Once more he took the lead. ‘My wife would like to look at some swimwear.’

With a certain wry amusement, Perdita noted the flicker of disappointment and envy that the word
wife
had occasioned.

After asking her size, the girl produced a range of colourful, exotically patterned bikinis that were as brief as they were revealing.

Speaking to Perdita, but her eyes repeatedly straying to Jared, she said, ‘You’ve sure got a great figure, so any of these should look good on you.’

Perdita was looking askance at the minute scraps of material when, indicating a white one-piece costume that was on a display stand, Jared said, ‘Something more like this might fit the bill.’

‘It’s a Paul Gregor that’s new in,’ the girl told him, ‘and luckily it’s just the right size.’

Though apparently more modest, Perdita could see that the costume’s daring cut would show off almost as much bare flesh as the bikinis and, feeling uncomfortable, she began, ‘I really don’t think—’

Cutting smoothly across her attempt to argue, Jared said to the girl, ‘Then we’ll take it,’ and pulled out his wallet.

Unwilling to have him spend money on her, Perdita said sharply, ‘If you insist on taking it, I’ll buy it with my credit card. I don’t want you to have to pay for it.’

‘Darling…’ A glint in his eye, he tilted her chin and kissed her thoroughly, lingeringly. ‘You know quite well that I enjoy buying clothes for my wife.’

Shaken, her face flushed, Perdita stayed still and silent while the girl, who had been standing staring as though mesmerized came to life.

In a moment the swimsuit, which had an exorbitant price tag, had been paid for and the package handed to Jared.

‘Thank you.’ He returned the girl’s smile.

Watching her visibly melt and give him a look that held both longing and an invitation, Perdita experienced a sudden swift pang of something that felt remarkably like jealousy.

No, surely she couldn’t be jealous! She was annoyed with him, rocked by his kiss, but she couldn’t be
jealous
just because he’d smiled at a shop assistant.

Yet she was.

When they reached the car he helped her in and, tossing the package onto the back seat, enquired, ‘Do you fancy a relatively short sightseeing drive before I take you round the winery?’

With mingled emotions and still trying to regain her equilibrium, she hesitated for a moment before answering, ‘Yes, that sounds lovely.’

A playful breeze tugging tendrils of silken hair free from its loose knot and flicking them against her hot cheeks, they took the scenic route north, driving in a leisurely way through St Helena and Rutherford, while Jared pointed out various things of interest.

When they reached the pleasant resort town of Calistoga, with its many local tourist attractions and hot springs, he brought the car to a halt outside a pretty little open-air café.

As they had tea beneath a fringed umbrella, glancing around, Perdita remarked, ‘I really like this place; it’s interesting and friendly.’

‘I think you’ll find the whole area is well worth another longer visit,’ he agreed. ‘Only a mile away is California’s Old Faithful Geyser. It erupts every forty minutes or so and shoots a sixty-foot fountain into the air.’

Forgetting for a moment her reason for being here, she said enthusiastically, ‘I’d love to see that.’

‘Well, late autumn is a nice time to visit. Fewer holiday makers around.’

Autumn
. It sounded very much as though he was expecting her to stay.

The realization kept her subdued and silent while they returned to the car and headed back south to the Wolf Rock Winery.

When they reached the entrance, he drove through tall wrought iron gates and drew up outside the main reception and sales area.

For some reason she had expected everything to look up to date and modern and she was surprised to find that the buildings were old-fashioned and elegant, more in the style of the French chateaux.

They appeared to be manned, however, mainly by Californian youths in cut-off jeans and flip-flops.

The contrast made Perdita smile.

When she had seen what there was to see, they left by the rear entrance. From there, partly hidden by a row of Spanish chestnuts, she could see the main bulk of the winery, with its huge external hoppers and enclosed conveyor belts.

Once inside, she found that if the reception buildings were old-fashioned, the winery itself was bang up to date with all the latest technology.

All the workers seemed open and friendly and, as they walked through the place, Jared greeted each man by name.

After a fascinating tour of the computer room and the fermentation rooms, with their huge stainless steel vats, Jared took her into the lab.

A tall, nice-looking man wearing a white coat and rimless glasses came to meet them. ‘Hi, good to see you back,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Hi, Don. Good to
be
back,’ Jared answered.

‘Only the other day Estelle was saying it’s about time you were home.’

‘How is your wife?’

‘She’s fine, thanks.’

‘When’s the baby due?’

‘In about six weeks.’

‘Not long then before celebrations are in order.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Don said fervently.

Putting an arm around Perdita’s waist, Jared drew her forward. ‘Darling, I want you to meet Don Macy, my chief oenologist and right-hand man…Don, this is my wife.’

Clearly surprised, Don said warmly, ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Dangerfield.’

Perdita had never been addressed as Mrs Dangerfield before and it threw her. But she managed to smile a greeting and they shook hands cordially.

‘I hadn’t realized you were married,’ Don remarked to Jared. ‘I take it congratulations are in order?’

Drawing Perdita closer, Jared answered, ‘You could say that.’

Feeling her stiffen, he released her and changed the subject. ‘What results have you had so far on that new project?’

‘Quite good, though it doesn’t show the same promise as Sunset Flight did at that stage…’

The two men talked wine for a minute or so before Perdita was shown over the lab, with its benches full of formidable-looking gadgetry.

She asked some pertinent and intelligent questions and, flattered by her interest in what he obviously considered one of the most satisfying jobs in the world, Don seemed only too delighted to explain the various procedures.

After some talk of pH levels, critical temperatures and chemical volatility, Jared asked, ‘About ready to make a move?’

She nodded. ‘If you are.’

Having thanked Don for his time and been assured that he’d enjoyed their visit, they made their way back to the car.

As Jared slid in beside her, he queried, ‘You didn’t find all that too boring?’

‘Far from it,’ she said with complete truth. ‘In fact I would have liked to know more about the fermentation process.’

‘Well, I’ll be very happy to take you over whenever you want to go, though you’ll find that one of the most exciting times is when the grapes have just been picked and are being unloaded…’

Once again he seemed to be taking it for granted that she would still be here later in the year.

When they drew up by the house, Jared suggested, ‘Perhaps you’d care to go ahead and freshen up while I garage the car?’

As she made to get out, he reminded her, ‘Don’t forget your swimsuit.’ With an ironic smile, he added, ‘You might want to wear it.’

Still a little rattled by the way he had calmly ridden roughshod over her, she had planned to leave it behind. But, unwilling to do battle, she picked it up reluctantly, her mouth set in a mutinous line, and saw by the gleam in his eyes that he was aware of, and amused by, her tacit rebellion.

When she reached her room she tossed the package on the bed, which had been neatly made, and feeling hot and sticky went through to the bathroom.

After a refreshing shower, she brushed her hair into a gleaming curtain before returning to the bedroom. Then, with absolutely no intention of following Jared’s mocking suggestion, she found fresh undies and a sheath dress patterned in sea colours.

But a certain curiosity to see just what the swimsuit looked like on made her take it out of the box and try it.

It slipped on smoothly, seductively, and flowed over her slender curves like liquid honey.

There was no denying that it
felt
wonderful against her bare flesh, but what did it
look
like?

A glance in the long mirror sent a ripple of shock running through her.

The woman gazing back at her was slim as a willow wand, yet curvaceous, with shapely breasts, a narrow waist and nicely rounded hips.

Was that gorgeous creature really
her
? It was hard to believe that one single garment could make her look like that.

While she stared at herself, rooted to the spot, a movement in the mirror caught her eye. She became aware that the communicating door had opened and Jared was standing in the doorway, fully dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.

Spinning round, she demanded breathlessly, ‘What are you doing in here?’

Eyes lingering on her delectable curves and long slender limbs, her silken hair and smooth skin, he answered almost reverently, ‘Admiring a vision. When I last saw you, you were a lovely young girl; now you’re a stunningly beautiful woman.’

Oddly moved, as much by the look on his face as by his words, she took refuge in anger. ‘How dare you just walk in without knocking?’

‘I did knock. You must have been too engrossed to hear.’

As her eyes fell, he added, ‘There are drinks waiting on the terrace and I’d like you to join me.’

‘I’ll just take this off and—’

‘Why not leave it on, and we’ll have a quick swim before dinner?’ Turning away, he closed the door quietly behind him.

No, she couldn’t leave it on. She would feel too exposed, too vulnerable.

With unsteady hands she took off the swimsuit and thrust
it back into the box, before donning the undies and the blue-green sheath she had put ready earlier.

She was about to pin up her hair in the neat coil that Martin favoured when she recalled how Jared had once buried his face in it.

Her heart swelling, she let it fall in loose curls around her shoulders and, feeling oddly flustered, made her way through the cool, silent house to the hot, sunny terrace.

Sam came galumphing to meet her, nearly bowling her over in his excitement. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t seen me for years,’ she told him, laughing.

Jared looked up and said, ‘Chickened out, I see.’

‘I thought I’d better cover up. I’ve had enough sun for one day.’

Though clearly he recognized that as the excuse it was, he merely said, ‘In that case you’d better come and sit in the shade.’

When she was settled in a lounger he tilted an umbrella to shield her from the sun which, though low in the sky, was still powerful.

As she looked up to thank him, his hand gentle, he stroked her hair. Then picking up a silky tendril and winding it around his finger, he remarked, ‘I’m pleased to see you’ve left your hair down.’ His voice sounded strangely husky.

A moment later, the huskiness gone, he queried politely, ‘Now, what would you like to drink? A dry Martini? A gin and tonic? A fruit cocktail?’

‘A fruit cocktail, please,’ she answered.

While they sipped their drinks, the sun slipped below the horizon and the remaining brightness faded from the sky.

As the silence stretched, twilight began to drape perfumed veils, gauzy and insubstantial as a fairy’s wings, over the garden. A solitary star shone brightly and the ghost of a thin crescent moon hung just above the treetops, promising yet another perfect summer evening.

But Perdita was unable to enjoy it.

In the past their silences had been warm, companionable, intimate, a quiet sharing of self, but since he had touched her hair so tenderly she had been tense, on edge, filled with a mixture of longing and doubt.

Uncomfortable with her own emotions, she wanted to break the silence but could think of nothing to say.

She found herself wondering if by any chance
his
feelings were following the same path as hers.

Flustered by the thought, she stared at the dusky slopes where lamps were being lit, while in the distance on the valley floor the highway they had driven down earlier that day was wearing a string of lights like a jewelled necklace.

The sight of the highway and the occasional arc of car headlights reminded her of their visit to the winery and, armed with a subject, she began, ‘The wine Don Macy mentioned, Sunset Flight, was it…?’