His Convenient Marriage (14 page)

She knew she had to tread carefully. Jenny was above the age of consent, and she could get married among other crazy things.

Maybe I've just got to be patient, and wait for this mad¬ness to run its course, she thought as she transferred her casserole to the oven.

And perhaps that's how I'll get over Miles too, she added bleakly.

She was waiting edgily at the open front door as Miles' car came round the curve of the drive and stopped on the gravel with a soft whisper of tyres.

Unobtrusively, Chessie blotted damp palms on her jean-clad hips, and composed her face into a smile.

Steffie Barnes was nearly as tall as her brother, and had the same blue eyes, but her hair was fairer, and she had a merry face and a warm, low-pitched voice.

'So you're Francesca,' she said, destroying Chessie's last frail hope that maybe she'd been the one answering the telephone in her brother's flat two days earlier. Her hand clasp was firm and her gaze friendly. 'I began to wonder if I was ever going to meet you, or if you were just a figment of my dear brother's fertile imagination.' She turned, lifting a wry eyebrow in his direction.

'Oh, she exists.' Miles' drawl held amusement and some¬thing less easy to define. The blue eyes were cool and searching as they scanned her. 'Don't I get a welcome too, Chessie?'

Flushing, Chessie stepped forward, offering her cheek awkwardly. But Miles captured her chin, and turned her face to receive his kiss, swift and sensuous, on her lips. He did not release her at once.

'You've got shadows under your eyes.' He spoke softly, but he wore a faint frown. 'I hope they're because you've been missing me.'

'Why else?' Her smile was beginning to feel as if it had been glued there, but at last he let her go. She turned to Steffie. 'Would you like to see your room, and then have tea?'

'That would be fine,' Steffie accepted. 'Or I could always make myself scarce in the garden, and let you and Miles have a proper reunion.'

Miles laughed. 'We can wait. Give Steffie the guided tour, darling, while I check through the mail.'

As they went upstairs Steffie said abruptly, 'I owe you a vote of thanks. I was terrified that Miles was going to turn into a real recluse. Writing's a solitary occupation at the best of times, but he seemed to have no incentive to lead any kind of life outside working hours.' She gave a gleeful grin. 'Yet now here you are engaged to each other. And I couldn't be happier.'

Chessie flushed again. She said constrictedly, 'It's all happened so fast. I'm not really used to it yet.’

'I've been married for ten years,' Steffie said. 'And I still sometimes look at the face on the pillow next to me, and think, who’s that?' She gave a gasp of pure pleasure as Chessie opened a door onto late afternoon sunlight billow¬ing off primrose walls. 'What a lovely room.'

'I've always loved it,' Chessie agreed quietly, putting Steffie's case on the bed.

Steffie gave her a quick glance. 'Was this your room— before? Miles filled me in on some of the background. I hope you don't mind.'

'Of course not.' Chessie made herself speak lightly. 'And—yes—this was mine.'

'Oh, dear,' Steffie said, then brightened. 'But it isn't as if I've turned you out or anything.'

'No. And the housekeeper's flat is really comfortable.'

'The flat?' Steffie was clearly surprised. 'You're not over there, surely?' She shrugged. 'I mean—you and Miles are going to be married. I assumed you'd be sharing more than a roof.'

'I live with my younger sister.' Chessie was suddenly floundering. Burning all over, too. 'It makes things—diffi¬cult.'

'I thought she was all grown-up with a love life of her own.' Steffie shrugged. 'But you know best. Or I hope you do.'

She opened her case and pulled out a dress, shaking out the creases. 'I appreciate this is something of a crash course in getting acquainted, but you don't have any reservations about Miles—his injuries?' She gave Chessie a straight glance. 'Because he's been down that road already, and it wasn't good.'

'Yes.' Chessie swallowed. 'He—he was very frank about it.' She glanced round the room. 'I hope you have every¬thing you need.' She gestured awkwardly. 'I—1’11 leave you to unpack while I go and talk to Miles.'

'You do that,' Steffie replied cheerfully. 'I'll make sure I sing loudly on my way downstairs.'

Chessie paused outside the study, bracing herself phys¬ically and mentally before she went in. Miles was standing by the window, looking out at the garden. He turned slightly as she came in, and smiled at her.

'It's good to be back.'

His smile wrenched at her heart until she could have cried out with the anguish of it. She stiffened slightly, de¬fensively. 'I came to ask whether you wanted tea in the drawing room or the garden.'

'You decide,' he said. He paused, eyeing her medita¬tively. 'And for the duration of Steffie's visit, could you be primarily my future wife, rather than the paid employee?'

'I don't find it easy,' she said. 'Being a hypocrite.'

'Implying that I do?' The smile had gone. 'If you recall, I asked you to marry me, Chessie—not take part in a cha¬rade, which you set in motion.' He paused, allowing her to digest that. 'At least you're wearing your ring.'

She lifted her chin. 'I presumed you'd wish me to.'

'I hoped you'd want to,' he came back at her sharply, then sighed. 'Oh, God, Chessie, this is not what I'd planned. May we start again, please?'

'Perhaps we'd better.' She forced a smile. 'Your sister's very nice.'

'I think so too.' His mouth twisted. 'You must be re¬lieved to find that I'm the only bastard in the family.'

He looked tired, she thought, his eyes shadowed, his fa¬cial muscles taut. But then there was an excellent reason for his weariness, and she felt her hands curl into fists at her sides as that swift, uncontrollable pain slashed at her again.

She found herself saying stiltedly, 'Did you enjoy your— time in London?' And waiting, scarcely breathing, for his answer.

'The meetings with Vinnie and the publishers went well' His tone was matter-of-fact. No guilty look or sign of eva¬sion. But then—why should there be? Miles had never of¬fered her fidelity, she thought, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. No promise had been broken.

No promise. The thought was an unwanted intruder, in¬vading her mind. Just my heart...

'The next three years of my life are certainly spoken for,' he added, while Chessie stood rigid, aghast at this moment of self-revelation. Fighting for a semblance of composure.

She managed to say, over-brightly, 'Your new secretary is going to be kept busy.'

'I'm sure she'll cope.' He was watching her again, his eyes narrowed. He took a step towards her, and she fell back a pace, the wary defiance in her eyes meeting the incredulity in his.

For a few seconds the tension in the silence between them made her nerve-endings jangle.

Then Miles limped across to the Chesterfield and sat down. He said, quietly, 'I'd like you to come here, please, and tell me what's wrong, because clearly there's some¬thing. You look like your own ghost.' The cool drawl sharpened in warning. 'And don't put me to the trouble of fetching you, Francesca.'

Chessie complied reluctantly, huddling into the opposite corner, as far away from him as she could manage. She could see from the tightening of his mouth that this wasn't lost on him either, but she couldn't allow herself to worry about it. She was battling for self-preservation here.

'Well?' The blue gaze was piercing.

She said, 'I've seen Jenny's boyfriend.'

'He came here?' His brows rose.

'Oh, no. He was at work—at the big garage on the by¬pass.'

He stared at her. 'Are you telling me you walked all that way just to take a look at him?'

'No.' She hesitated. 'As it happens, Alastair was giving me a lift back from Hurstleigh. I—I'd been shopping, and it came on to rain.'

'How good of him,' Miles said softly. 'But then he is an old friend.'

'He needed petrol,' she went on. 'And that's when I saw him—Zak Woods, I mean.' 'And?'

'Think of your worst nightmare,' Chessie said. 'Then double it.' She raised anguished eyes to his. 'According to Mrs. Chubb he's lucky not to have a police record.' She shook her head. 'There's something horrible about him. I don't know how Jenny can bear it.'

'It might just be the attraction of opposites,' he said. 'Or it could be a punishment.'

'Who is she punishing?'

He shrugged. 'Herself, you, the whole world. Who knows?'

'She's going to ruin her life,' Chessie said wretchedly.

`I doubt that. The one good thing about nightmares is that you wake up from them eventually. Or so I've always believed,' he added drily. Then paused. 'So—what else is the matter?'

`I don't know what you mean.' Chessie shook her head, allowing a soft swathe of hair to fall across her suddenly flushed face. Her physical awareness of him—of his near¬ness—was acute. She was shaking inside, her mouth dry, an unfamiliar ache grinding deep within her.

`I think you do.' He was silent again, and she was aware of his gaze measuring her—lingering...

`I also think,' he went on, a wry twist to his mouth, 'that offering you a breathing space may not have been such a wise move, after all. I—really shouldn't have left you on your own.'

She drew a quick breath. 'That—that's nonsense. And I'd better go,' she added quickly. `I have things to do— your sister's tea to get.'

Miles shook his head slowly. 'Steffie will wait, I prom¬ise. But I can't.'

She was starting to get to her feet as he reached for her. Caught off balance and vulnerable, Chessie found herself pulled backwards, his arms closing round her, so that she fell against him.

Gasping, she tried to struggle, but it was too late. Miles lifted her as if she were a featherweight, settling her, help¬less and imprisoned, across his thighs.

'Much better,' he approved softly, smiling down into her outraged face as he lowered his mouth to hers.

She tried to fight him. To deny the hammer of her heart, and the quicksilver heat pulsing in her bloodstream. But she'd forgotten—or tried to forget—the deliberate beguilement of his lips, coaxing her mouth to open for him. And then—the warm, honeyed glide of his tongue against hers.

Her lashes swept down to her flushed cheeks. Her head fell back against his encircling arm as her body arched to¬wards him, mutely, involuntarily.

'My love,' he whispered against her skin. 'My sweet love.'

He kissed her again, deepening his demand, compelling a reciprocation that she was powerless to deny, feeding the hunger he had incited with his first touch.

His lips pressed tiny kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, and the corners of her eager mouth. His hand soothed her throat, moving down to her shoulder, then down again to the first of the pearl buttons that fastened her white shirt.

He released them slowly, kissing her softly and sensu¬ously as he did so, murmuring words of reassurance against her lips as if he recognised the swift, shocked hammer of her heart and sought to allay any last vestige of uncertainty.

The last button undone, Miles pushed the shirt off her shoulder, and looked down at her, his blue eyes slumbrous as they regarded the scraps of white lace that hid her breasts.

'Pretty,' he approved softly, then slid a questing finger under one narrow strap, slipping it down her arm.

'And exquisite,' he added huskily, brushing the loosened cup away from her rose-tipped breast, baring it for his ca¬ress.

His hand cupped her as if she had been made to fit his palm, his thumb stroking her nipple with a delicate, rhyth¬mic intensity that brought a small, choked whimper from her throat.

Her body was slackening in his arms, turning boneless as tiny rivers of fire lapped at her nerve-endings, sapping any last thought of resistance.

He bent his head, and she felt the moist flame of his mouth against her inflamed skin, encompassing her, laving the aroused peak to new heights of sensation.

When his lips returned to hers, she welcomed him with passionate eagerness, her arm sliding up round his neck, her hand entwining in his hair to hold him closer yet.

His fingers fondled the curve of her hip, then glided downwards, and she was aware of a sudden, scalding rush of heat between her thighs as her startled flesh responded to the sureness of his touch.

His hand went to the fastening of her jeans, and paused...

He lifted his head, staring down at her, the blue eyes dazed and smoky, his breathing as ragged as her own.

'God, Chessie.' The words were slurred, dragged from his throat. 'What are you doing to me?' He shook his head in a kind of self-derision. 'All the times we've been alone together in this house—and I have to choose now—when my sister could walk in on us at any moment.'

It was reality with a vengeance. And it awoke Chessie to the horrified realisation of exactly what she'd invited.

Gasping, she jerked upright, hands shaking as she tried unavailingly to remedy the disarray in her clothing, and crawl away from him at the same time.

'Let me...'

'No.' She choked the word. 'Don't touch me. Don't dare...'

There was an incredulous silence, then, to her eternal mortification, Miles began to laugh softly.

'Why, Francesca,' he mocked, 'and you said you weren't a hypocrite.'

He got slowly to his feet, and stood, leaning against the arm of the Chesterfield as he watched her.

Knowing that he was nowhere as cool as he looked was no consolation for the total shamelessness of her behaviour either.

And she'd wanted him to go on, Chessie thought wildly as she dragged the edges of her shirt together. Wanted to be naked in his arms, and to give him whatever he asked.

Only that was impossible. Because, no matter how deep her need, the time would soon come when she would have to walk away. And she wanted to be able to do that with her head high, and her pride undamaged.

So, while she remained here in this house, even the slightest physical contact between them had to be strictly taboo from now on.