Required to Wear the Tycoon's Ring (11 page)

But just as she thought he might be feeling the same Seth carefully extricated himself and lay down beside her. With his voice pitched intimately low he breathed, ‘Thank you. Thank you for the incredible gift you've just given me.'

The heartfelt declaration momentarily took Imogen aback. ‘I'm glad it was important to you, Seth...and I'm glad I waited all these years for the right man to give it to.'

Tracing her lips with the pad of his forefinger, he studied her with a new intensity. ‘
Am
I the right man, baby?'

As he spoke he carefully examined her luxuriant chestnut hair where it was spread out behind her on the pillow, twining a curl round his finger. The expression on his handsome face was serious.

‘What do
you
think?' Imogen wanted to smile, but somehow she found it was beyond her right then. She still feared his rejection if she confessed the
real
reason she'd surrendered her virginity to him—because she loved him. Seth had already warned her that he didn't believe in making emotional attachments.

‘Hmm... I think we make a very good match. Don't you? But I have to ask... Do you have any regrets about not giving your virginity to your ex-fiancé?'

‘Are you serious?'

‘Perhaps deep down you're sad that it wasn't him who was your first lover?'

Imogen was shocked. ‘That's ridiculous. I told you—I don't regret for a moment that things didn't turn out the way I'd hoped. Why would I? It was beyond cruel of him to humiliate me like that. And now I know that he also did me a favour when he didn't turn up that day.'

‘So it's true that you really didn't love him after all?'

‘Yes, it's true.' She sighed. ‘I didn't. Like I told you before, I was only kidding myself about that. When he stood me up at the church I finally realised it was just the
idea
of being in love that I was mesmerised by, and consequently I got my comeuppance.'

‘And now... Can you be content with not achieving the dream of
real
love that you wanted, Imogen? Is the pragmatic arrangement we've talked about going to be enough for you?'

As he uttered the words Seth knew without doubt that he no longer wanted such a soulless partnership for himself. He abhorred the very idea. Imogen had invaded his blood with her beauty, her innocence and her wonderful, kind nature, and he would be a fool to pretend that he wanted a marriage of convenience any longer.

Realising the depth of his feelings, he could no longer deny what he
really
wanted from her...

The question he'd asked Imogen made her heart sink. It was suddenly brought home to her that Seth was still pledged to the memory of Louisa...even after all these years. What if that never changed?
Could
she be content with just being his companion? Sharing his bed, but not ever having his love?

Another more startling thought went through her mind just then.
What if they had children?
They'd been swept along with the wedding, and the practicalities of using protection had seemingly gone out of their heads...

Right at that moment she didn't have the courage to ask him about it. It was bad enough to know that he didn't love her.

Her expression grave, she said, ‘You're a good man, Seth. I know that. And you've been very frank with me about what you want from the start. So we'll just leave things as they are for now, shall we?'

Unable to disguise her sadness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got out, dragging a sheet with her. Winding it round her, she turned away.

Alarmed, and hardly able to believe what he was witnessing, Seth sat up. ‘Where do you think you're going?'

‘I'd like to take a shower...on my own.'

‘Do you really have to do that right now? Why don't you wait and I'll—?'

But she had gone before he'd even realised that she was serious, and she shut the bathroom door with a resounding bang that echoed warningly round the room. He was in no doubt that she was mad at him
.

Galvanised into sudden action, Seth dragged the other sheet off the bed and wrapped it round his lean, hard middle. Then he planted himself firmly outside the bathroom and banged hard on the door.

‘Imogen! For God's sake, what's going on with you? Do I have to remind you that it's our wedding night?'

The tense moments that passed as he anxiously waited for her response felt like an eternity. Then, in a voice that was barely discernible, she said softly, ‘I just need some space for a few minutes. Is that a problem?'

He emitted a frustrated breath and agitatedly pushed his fingers through his hair. ‘Why do you need some space? If there's something bothering you, can't you just come out and talk to me about it?'

‘It's probably best if I don't.'

‘What the hell does
that
mean?'

The door suddenly opened. Studying him with those big brown eyes of hers, Imogen protectively crossed her arms over the sheet that she'd wound round herself. The gesture made her appear disarmingly fragile. If Seth didn't get to the bottom of this soon he swore he'd go crazy.

‘It means that I don't think I can pretend anymore.'

‘Pretend about what?
'

‘About how I feel about things.'

‘Then, why don't you
tell
me? Please, Imogen. It's very important to me to know how you feel.'

His natural concern coming to the fore, he reached out his hand to touch her bare shoulder. Once again he was reminded of how exquisitely soft her skin was. Beneath his fingers, she shivered a little.

‘I know that your feelings lie with another woman, in another place and time,' she breathed, ‘but I want you to know that I love you
now
, Seth...and I can't live a lie and pretend that I don't—no matter what inducements you put in front of me.'

Seth stared at her. His head was spinning.
He was incredulous. Imogen apparently believed that he still loved Louisa and would never love anyone else. It took him aback, because he'd known for quite some time that his feelings had changed dramatically.

He hadn't told her because he could hardly believe it himself. But a few minutes ago, when they'd been making love, he'd almost declared what he felt out loud. Somehow his beautiful, compassionate new wife had found a way into his wounded heart and started to help heal it. His plans for a ‘convenient' arrangement had made a serious U-turn.

‘First of all, I
don't
still love Louisa. She belongs firmly in the past. I know that for sure. In truth, I started to realise it quite a while ago—even before we met, Imogen, and I fell for you hook, line and sinker. It's
you
that I love. You and
only
you,' he announced, surveying her tenderly.

She was utterly stunned. ‘I can hardly believe it. Are you serious? You said in your note to her that you would only ever love
her.
How come you suddenly seem to have changed your mind?'

‘Like I said, I started to realise my feelings were changing quite a while ago. But I stupidly told myself that I'd be betraying her if I didn't hold on to them. At the time I wrote what I did I honestly believed I would never love anyone else like I loved her. And as the years went by and I didn't develop any new relationships I believed it must be true.' Seth frowned. ‘I convinced myself that love must be a one-time-only deal.'

With her heart in her mouth, Imogen made herself wait for him to continue.

‘But you proved me wrong. Imogen. My feelings probably started to change when you showed up at the manor that day, looking like some tender sprite that had emerged out of the woods. You'd walked all the way from town to try to find out who the writer of that note in your book was. How many other people would have done that? Straight away you intrigued me. You showed me that you cared about what had happened to two perfect strangers—that the idea that they'd reunited gave you hope. Although I didn't realise it, the more time I spent with you, and the more I was acquainted with your loving kindness, the more I fell head over heels in love with you.'

‘Oh, Seth...do you really mean it? You really do love me?'

He stared back into her incandescent brown eyes and gathered her tenderly into his arms. ‘Yes, I do. I'll spend the rest of our lives together proving it to you, so that you need never doubt it. I don't know what I've done to find somebody like you, but I'll never take it for granted. Now, let's go back to bed, shall we?'

Just a few moments later they lay against the pillows together and Seth pulled up the counterpane around them.

Feeling happier than she'd ever felt before, Imogen sighed. ‘You know I said that I knew I'd given my virginity to the right man? I was telling you the truth, Seth. I started to fall in love with you not long after I met you.'

They had both removed their sheets, so that they were naked again, and she was stroking her hand up and down his chest as she spoke. Her fingers kept dipping every now and then to the dark column of hair beneath his navel. Already his blood was heading eagerly south...

‘In fact I love you so much that I was prepared to go along with your marriage of convenience just so that I could be with you.'

‘And yet again put someone else's happiness before your own?'

Appearing genuinely surprised, she stopped stroking him. ‘I wouldn't have been unhappy, Seth. I might not have had your love, but I would have known that you respected me, and if all we'd ever had was a close friendship I would have gladly settled for that rather than be without you.'

For a moment he was lost for words. The phrase
my cup runneth over
sprang helpfully to mind, because that was exactly how he felt. It almost didn't seem fair that he'd been given so much. This beautiful, incredible woman had just become his wife, and of all the things he had achieved in life this was undoubtedly the
best
...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
HEY
SPENT
THE
whole of the next morning in bed. Seth had never allowed himself to be so lazy. Most of his life he had worked hard, risen early and gone to bed late. Even when he'd started to earn good money he hadn't rested on his laurels. He'd worked even harder to increase his bank balance and to make a name for himself in the elite world his customers inhabited.

Determined to stay on top of his game, he had also adopted an unstinting routine to help maintain his health and fitness. In New York he either started his day with an early-morning run or by working out at the gym. But lying there next to Imogen, with the sun pouring in at the window, highlighting her silky bare skin as she lay on her front, he honestly couldn't think of a single thing he'd like to be doing more—except perhaps making love to her again...

As if intuiting that he was watching her, she lifted her head and glanced up at him. With her chestnut curls tumbling sexily over a bare shoulder she had a sleepy-eyed slumberous look that was so alluring. Seth found himself instantly turned on again, despite the fact that they'd made love for most of the night.

‘Hey. Are you intending on sleeping the entire day away, Mrs Broden?'

Her cheeks were suffused with indignation, arousing him even more.

‘Of course I'm not. I'm going to get up in a minute and see about breakfast. I'm hungry...
ravenous
, in fact.'

‘So am I...' Lowering his tone meaningfully, he lay down again.

With a sigh, Imogen turned onto her side to study him. ‘Shall we get dressed and go downstairs to the dining room?' she asked, her voice not quite steady.

‘Not yet. Food isn't our top priority.'

The lascivious glance he gave her made her emit a husky little groan even before he touched his lips to hers. ‘Isn't it?' she breathed.

They both knew she was fighting a losing battle.

‘There are a few other needs that I want to see to first,' he insisted. ‘Do you
know
how addicted I'm becoming to your body?'

‘Mmm-hmm...I think my aches and pains bear that out. Perhaps we were a little too energetic last night? I didn't know I'd be getting in so much practice straight away.'

‘You can't beat practice...' Bending his head towards hers, Seth stole a deliberately provocative kiss—the kind of kiss that made his blood turn molten even before he'd finished it. ‘And you know what they say about practice...' He slid his hand over her exposed bare breast, loving the way her nipple immediately stood to attention and her dark eyes turned misty.

‘What
do
they say?' she breathed softly.

He smiled, knowing it didn't really matter about the answer. This seemingly inconsequential little conversation was definitely only heading one way...

‘That it makes even the best things perfect.'

‘I don't care about perfection. I want— I just want...'

‘What
do
you want, baby?'

‘
You
... I just want you.'

To his surprise and delight she manoeuvred herself on top of him and her sultry inner thighs clamped against his sides.

‘You've got me,' he said throatily, ‘for as long and as often as you want.'

* * *

They were enjoying dinner in the restaurant that evening when Imogen remarked, ‘By the way, what made you hire a photographer for the wedding? It took me by surprise. I know that you don't exactly court publicity.'

‘It seems that I'm changing a lot of my old ways since I met you, sweetheart.' Raising his wine glass to his lips, Seth gave her a tender smile. ‘And I hope for the better. I thought it might be nice for you to have some pictures to show to your family and friends. To prove to them that you didn't let what previously happened break you—that you stayed strong and fell in love with a man who adores you.'

Her eyes suddenly awash with tears, Imogen knew her gaze was transfixed. ‘I adore you, too, Seth. But I'm a little overwhelmed that you care so much about how I might feel that you would do that for me. I can still hardly believe we're married. I'm scared that I'll suddenly wake up and find that I've been having the most fantastical dream.'

Putting his glass down on the table, Seth captured her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘This is no dream, angel. What's happened has happened because it was
meant
. The older I get, the more I believe that universal forces aren't random. I get the sense that events and situations are being carefully orchestrated. When a relationship feels as right as ours does, what else can you put it down to? Anyway...' He planted a warm kiss across her fingers. ‘Now that's clear we can start to enjoy our honeymoon.'

‘I'm already enjoying it. Even if we went home today it wouldn't matter...just as long as I know we can be together.'

‘We're not going home today. My helicopter pilot will be collecting us in the morning to take us to the airport. Then we're boarding a plane to fly to Italy.'

‘Italy?'

‘Yes. I'm taking you to La Scala in Milan, to see an opera. Before we see the show we'll shop for a suitable outfit for you to wear, and then, when it's over, we'll enjoy some of the very best Italian food in one of my favourite restaurants. After that we'll have three more days in which to please ourselves and enjoy the sights.'

‘And then...when we get home...?'

‘We'll talk about where we're going to live.'

The expression on his riveting handsome features suddenly became serious. There was still an unspoken uncertainty about where they would reside, and sooner or later they were going to have to address that.

Her teeth anxiously chewed down on her lip. So much had changed for her in a frighteningly short time, and she was having a little trouble acclimatising herself. Her good fortune seemed to be unrelenting.
She could hardly believe that Seth was taking her to Italy—and to the opera to boot! How had she got to be so lucky?

And the most exciting thing of all was that they would soon be living together as man and wife
.
What could it matter
where
they lived? She would willingly go wherever he did, confident that she would be able to adapt to a new place or even country if she had to. The main thing was that they loved each other. That was what would sustain them. Imogen had once agreed to become just his companion and helpmate, but now she was his friend and lover, too...

‘It all sounds wonderful. And I'm very much looking forward to discussing where we're going to live when we get home. You can even move in with me and give up your hotel suite until we find somewhere more permanent, if you'd like? I promise my bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch.'

‘I don't doubt that it is—especially if you were in it with me sweetheart... But there's no need for that. We'll come up with a solution, I promise.' The glance he gave her was both steady and reassuring. ‘In the meantime, let's drink a toast to our future.'

Raising her glass, Imogen smiled confidently. ‘To our future... May it be a fruitful and happy one.'

* * *

Their first outing in Milan was to the glamorous array of shops in the Galleria, known to be one of the world's oldest shopping malls. And it was there that Seth insisted Imogen shopped to buy a dress to wear to the opera.

The incredible four-storey arcade that was topped with a distinctive glass dome housed the fashions of the most elite haute couture designers, Armani, Dolce & Gabbana and Prada to name just a few, and it wasn't easy to take it all in. For Imogen, the sight of so much glitz and glamour under one roof was nothing less than intimidating. It was so far away from the world she was used to that it might as well have been on another planet.

Even more intimidating was the prevalence of so many beautiful and attractive people. Everyone looked like a model or a movie star.
Observing both the men and the women, she saw they looked to be gliding from store to store as if born to the task. And every now and then somebody would stop to take a call on the latest designer phone, or to take a ‘selfie' with a friend and smile and gesticulate as if it were their divine right to have such good fortune and not be concerned with very much else.

And of all the scents that pervaded the area the scent of money was the strongest perfume of all, she noted.

Realising that this was the world she'd married into, that like it or not, she was going to have to quickly get used to it. As astute as ever, her husband straight away sensed her disquiet.

Guiding her towards the store of one of most famous designers in the world, he examined her searchingly with his glittering blue eyes. ‘You're far too quiet for my liking. That tells me you're not enjoying yourself. Why?'

Glancing uncomfortably at the beautifully dressed window in front of her, Imogen flushed and uneasily brushed her hand down the faux leather jacket she wore with jeans. ‘I don't want to sound like a broken record, Seth, but I'm just not used to this kind of thing. It's going to take me a while to adjust.'

‘Why? If it's because you don't feel “good enough” to go into such an elite store, let me reassure you. Whether you're married to me or not, you have as much right as the next person to go into this store and have an assistant serve you. And if I detect for even a second that anyone is making you feel uncomfortable, either by a look or a condescending attitude, I'll make sure that I never buy from that designer again. In my world, Imogen, money and status is power. Never forget that. So work on losing that demoralising feeling and enjoy yourself. Now let's go in and find you a beautiful dress to wear to the opera.'

Brushing her lips with an affectionate kiss, Seth caught her hand and led her into the store, and Imogen loved him all the more for his insistence that she was as deserving as anybody else to shop there...

* * *

La Scala was an unbelievable experience from the moment their car dropped them off at the square.

The deceptively unprepossessing building turned out to contain an Aladdin's cave of wonder and delight. Inside the auditorium, with its six perfect ‘doll's house' tiers, the atmosphere was somehow imbued with the echoes of all the magnificent voices that had ever sung there...indeed, that sang there still. The members of the audience who had started to fill the seats were immaculately dressed and important looking. The men wore flawless suits and the women were dressed in an array of classic and fashionable gowns practically dripping with jewels.

Although she and Seth talked amongst themselves Imogen was so mesmerised by the fact that she was there at all that she hardly knew what she said. And when they finally took their seats in one of the most desirable boxes in the theatre, she honestly attested to feeling like the fairy tale Cinderella must have done when she went to the ball.

Seth held her hand and every now and then discreetly pointed out an important official or celebrity that he'd spotted, adding an amusing anecdote or two if it was someone he had met personally.

One of the best things of all about that magical day was the sensational scarlet gown that Seth had helped her choose. It was simply glamour personified, and she couldn't deny that she felt like a different woman wearing it—a woman who was confident and assured. And adding to that rare sense of confidence was the fact that she was with Seth.

Her handsome husband had caused a small sensation when he'd stepped out of their car, because he looked so amazing in yet another classy Armani suit. The owners of the high-lens cameras that had pointed in their direction attested that it hadn't gone unnoticed who he was. Coupled with that, there had been several times when some of the most stunning women Imogen had ever seen had glanced admiringly his way. But she didn't let it disturb her. After all,
she
was the one he'd made his wife.

The opera that evening was
La Bohème
, by Puccini, and the powerful emotive music stayed with her long after they'd returned to their hotel. In truth, neither of them wanted the magic to end, and that night Seth took his time making slow, sweet love to her. It was the icing on the cake in an extraordinarily happy day that would be etched in her memory forever.

* * *

The following few days saw them touring several art galleries and other places of interest, but Imogen's favourite thing was their visit to the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, to see Leonardo Da Vinci's
The Last Supper
. Although she could see that the incredible painting had faded down the years, it was still powerfully moving. Seth was right. There was so much about Italy that was utterly compelling.

On their return to the hotel the day after their final lunch in town Seth took himself off to the bathroom for a shower. Contentedly lying on the bed, browsing through a magazine, she was finally distracted by the persistent message tone of his phone. He'd left it on the bed, down by Imogen's feet, and although she wouldn't normally dream of looking at it, it came to her that it might be something urgent.

Gathering up the smartphone, she stared down at the name that had appeared on the screen. Not recognising it as anyone he'd mentioned, she scrolled further down to read the message.

Well, my friend, have you found your trophy wife yet? My father the sheikh is anxious to meet you with a view to making you his new supplier. I'm sure you know what an amazing opportunity this is. We're talking about entry into the ‘elite of the elite' classic-car fraternity and you need to have a wife to make you eligible. Don't let your reticence about making this marriage one of convenience deter you much longer! You know it makes sense. Ring me. Ash.

In those horrific few moments as the words seeped into her brain Imogen felt as if time had chillingly slowed down in order to manifest the nightmarish realisation that now seized her.