by Penny Jordan
‘It looks as though they’re going to be lucky with the weather too,’ she added inanely. ‘The forecast is good for the whole weekend.’
‘This is our exit junction,’ Marcus told her.
He didn’t speak much until they had travelled for several miles down pretty country lanes and through several small villages, other than to say casually, ‘This is a very pretty part of the country—and convenient for London. It might be worthwhile considering it as a possibility for house-hunting. What do you think?’
‘I do love it down here,’ Lucy admitted. ‘I used to come and stay with Jules during our school holidays, and I’ve always thought it was somewhere I’d like to live.’
‘Here’s our hotel.’
Crunchy gravel and autumn leaves, smoke from chimneys drifting like pale grey silk across a sharp blue sky, the scent of woodsmoke and fresh air: what could be more evocative of an English country house? Lucy reflected, as she stood beside the car and watched the deer in the park beyond the house as they stared back with huge soft Bambi eyes.
In the reception hall the smell of beeswax mingled with lavender and rose pot pourri. The smiling receptionist, dressed in a tweed skirt, cashmere and pearls, might have been the house’s gracious owner and hostess as she explained that they had been given a suite in the barn conversion, separate from the main hotel.
‘I think you’ll like it. But do come over and have a look.’
As they crossed the courtyard Lucy could see where part of the original moat to the house had been turned into a pond, complete with two swans and a bevy of eager ducks.
‘They’ve adopted us,’ the receptionist explained with a smile. ‘We have peacocks too, by the way, do please don’t be alarmed when you hear them—some people don’t care for the noise, but personally I think their beauty more than compensates for it.’
The stable block was a long two-storey building, with its own sunny entrance hall and a set of wide stairs.
‘We have two suites downstairs and two upstairs. We’ve put you upstairs.’
Dutifully Lucy and Marcus followed her to the galleried landing and waited whilst she unlocked one of two doors with a heavy old-fashioned key.
Beyond the door lay a narrow short corridor, and beyond that an enormous bedroom with a huge bed and a proper fireplace.
‘The suite has two bathrooms—one either side of the bed,’ she explained, indicating the two doors. ‘The sofas here in the bedroom convert into extra beds for families, and through here…’ She led them to a door next to the fireplace and opened it, to show a pretty sitting-cum-breakfast room with a balcony and views over the countryside.
‘Well?’ Marcus asked Lucy.
‘It’s lovely,’ she told the receptionist warmly.
‘Good, I’m glad you like it. I’ll get someone to help you with your luggage.’
‘Marcus, this is gorgeous,’ Lucy told him as soon as they were alone. ‘Very romantic. Especially with the fire.’ She moved towards him. She had been so on edge and filled with guilt last night, following Dorland’s revelations, that she had not dared let him hold her in case she broke down and sobbed the whole thing out on his shoulder. But right now she was aching for him so much. Why didn’t she just put the whole sorry episode of Andrew Walker behind her and enjoy being with Marcus instead?
‘Mmm. Look, we’d better get a move on. It took us slightly longer to get here than I expected.’
Marcus was turning way from her, ignoring her subtle hint that she would like him to take her to bed. She recognised the signs easily. After all, she had experienced them often enough at Nick’s hands.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘LUCY!’
Lucy forced herself to smile as Julia hugged her tightly, and grinned.
‘You’re here! Oh, I am so excited. And Marcus too. Let me see the ring. Oh, Lucy! Of course Silas insists that he always felt there were some pretty strong undercurrents going on between you and Marcus—don’t you, darling?’ Julia appealed to her husband.
‘Well, let’s just say that your sex doesn’t always have an exclusive hold on intuition, does it, son?’ Silas addressed the blue-wrapped bundle he was holding mock-solemnly. ‘Actually it was Lucy who gave the game away, to be honest. It’s so rare to see you getting wound up about anything or anyone, Lucy, that I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on when you kept on insisting that you hated Marcus. And, as we all know…’
‘Hatred is akin to love,’ Julia chimed in with Silas, and they exchanged amused looks.
Lucy could feel her face starting to burn. Hastily she reached out her arms and begged, ‘Silas, please let me hold my new godson-to-be.’
‘He’s heavy, Lucy,’ Julia warned her, suddenly all proud mother, wanting them to recognise her still tiny son’s promise of adult male strength to come.
‘Carly rang just before you arrived, by the way. She and Ricardo should be here soon. You know that they’ve rented a house in the village for the weekend?’
‘Yes, she e-mailed to tell me.’
‘I’d have liked to offer you all room here, but we’ve already got my family, and Silas’s descending on Gramps tomorrow. Are you sure my son isn’t getting too heavy for you?’ she demanded. They were all standing in the large, slightly draughty drawing room Julia had taken them to, and, sensing that her friend was already eager for the return of her baby, Lucy smiled down at him, stroking his cheek gently with her finger as she walked over to Julia and handed him back.
Marcus was standing with Silas, supposedly listening to what Silas was saying about the current situation with the dollar, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching her. Julia might be baby Nat’s mother, but it was Lucy, with her doting, blissed-out expression, whose face was that of a traditional radiant Madonna—all soft, beatific love. There was a feeling in his heart as though it were being wrenched apart by two giant fists. Angrily he struggled to suppress it.
As she handed Nat back to Julia, Lucy couldn’t help reflecting desolately that if Marcus continued to behave as coldly towards her as he had done earlier, in their hotel suite, then if she wasn’t already pregnant she would probably never hold a child of her own. What was it about her that made her so undesirable and so undesired by the very men who were supposed to want her? First Nick and now Marcus. She looked over to where Marcus was standing with Silas, the two men deep in conversation.
‘Lucy, come and sit down,’ Julia invited, patting the empty space on the sofa next to her.
‘I’m so glad about you and Marcus.’ She beamed as Lucy obeyed her instruction. ‘I know how unhappy Nick made you, and I’ve felt so guilty about that because you met him through me. Marcus will—’ She broke off as a large Mercedes swept past the window, then exclaimed happily, ‘Oh, good, that will be Carly and Ricardo.’
Five minutes later the large room was full of the sound of warmly excited female voices as the three women exchanged news and gossip.
‘Just look at how much he’s grown,’ Lucy exclaimed in awe as she admired Carly and Ricardo’s son before adding, ‘And look at you, too, Carly—six months pregnant and yet you look as stunning and elegant as ever.’
With so much to say to one another, and two adorable babies to admire, Lucy started to relax, her earlier forced smile giving way to one that was far more natural. So much so, in fact, that when Marcus came over to where she was seated with Carly and Julia and the children, and placed a hand on her shoulder, she had to tense her whole body to stop herself from leaning into him and letting him see how much he meant to her.
‘I am so looking forward to the wedding, Lucy,’ Carly announced excitedly. ‘After all, you’re the only one of the three of us to have a proper regulation do.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m looking forward to it, too,’ Julia chimed in. ‘When did you first realise you loved Lucy, Marcus?’ she asked him.
Lucy immediately dipped her head, so her hair swung forward to conceal her expression.
‘Not soon eno
ugh,’ Marcus responded calmly. ‘If I had, she would never have been allowed to marry Blayne.’
Everyone laughed, and Lucy let her pent-up breath leak away in shaky relief. What had she been afraid he might say? That he didn’t love her at all? Marcus was far too cerebral to make a slip like that.
‘That was a very pleasant evening.’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ Lucy replied as the lights of Julia’s grandfather’s house were left behind them and Marcus’s Bentley purred softly onto the main road.
‘I’m even more convinced now, if we are going to think of buying a house outside London, that this would be a good area to consider. What do you think?’
‘Like I said before, it is a very pretty part of the country,’ Lucy agreed. ‘And Julia did say that she and Silas are hoping that ultimately they will be spending more time here. Of course when Julia’s grandfather dies Silas will inherit the title and the house, but they both want their children to grow up knowing their English heritage as well as their American heritage.’
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. It had been a good evening, with the three men getting on as well as the women did themselves. There had even been whole moments when she had almost managed to persuade herself that she and Marcus were a normal soon-to-be married couple.
She certainly wished that they were. Just as she wished that right now they were going back to their hotel suite as genuine lovers who just couldn’t wait to be alone together.
Lucy had fallen asleep within minutes of them leaving her friends, and as he brought the car to a halt in the hotel car park Marcus turned in his seat to look at her. He would be glad when she was safely married to him and he could once again focus his attention on the bank, instead of constantly having to be on his guard in case Lucy tried to change her mind and refuse to go through with their marriage.
He reached out and touched her arm, saying calmly, ‘Lucy—wake up. We’re here.’
‘Marcus?’ Emotion illuminated her whole face as she looked back at him. Suddenly Marcus felt as though he had been kicked in the chest and deprived of the ability to breathe. Something—a feeling—a need—roared through him, threatening to blast apart the fixed standing stones of his beliefs.
Oblivious to what was happening to him, Lucy continued sleepily, ‘I was just dreaming about you and…’
‘And?’ Marcus probed, his voice rusty as he fought back an unfamiliar urge to take hold of her and go on holding her, so that he could satisfy his need to physically experience the reality of her.
‘Nothing.’ Lucy shook her head, but she could feel her face going a betraying shade of pink. It was obvious that Marcus had guessed just what she had been dreaming, too, because all of sudden there was a very definite gleam in his eyes.
‘Do I take it from that pretty pink flush that it was the kind of dream I would enjoy turning into reality?’ he asked, as his own body responded to the desire he could see in her eyes.
It took Lucy several speeded-up heartbeats to recognise that Marcus was actually flirting with her, and several more to take a deep breath, jettison her pride and answer him boldly. ‘Well, I would certainly enjoy you doing so, Marcus. Marcus!’ she protested breathlessly, as suddenly he kissed her so fiercely that she could hardly breathe.
‘Come on,’ he commanded, releasing her and then getting out of the car and going round to open the passenger door for her.
Their journey from the car to their suite was accomplished in between so many kisses that Lucy felt half delirious with desire by the time they reached their room. Holding her within one arm, Marcus continued to kiss her while he inserted the key in the lock and turned the handle.
A fire was burning in the hearth, the maid had been up and closed the curtains, and the room itself smelled of pine logs and warmth and intimacy.
‘Marcus…’ she whispered eagerly.
‘Mmm?’
‘Hurry.’
‘Like this, do you mean?’
He was touching her, despite the fact that they were both still fully dressed, so that her whole body convulsed.
‘My clothes…’ she protested, wanting to be rid of them. But her body was telling Marcus that it didn’t want to wait—and, he realised fiercely, neither did his own.
He took her quickly and hotly, there and then, in the shadowy bedroom, compelled and driven by his need to possess her and make her his in a way that was totally outside anything he had ever previously experienced.
She loved what he was doing—and the way he was doing it, Lucy thought dizzily as she wrapped her legs around him and felt the swift surges of pleasure grip her. Later there would be time to undress, to pleasure one another more slowly and thoroughly, but right now this was exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. How she wanted him.
She still couldn’t fully take it in that that a few weeks from now she would actually be Marcus’s wife. Lucy took a gulp of her espresso and reminded herself sternly that the reason she was here in her office was to work, and not to think about the many and varied pleasures of becoming Mrs Marcus Carring. Pleasures which, right now, were suppressing the doubts that had been tormenting her. It was, after all, an undeniable truth that those pleasures were so many and so varied that it was almost impossible for her not to fantasise about them. And so…
Hastily she forced herself to concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing—namely, updating her client files and dealing with her other paperwork. The slow trickle of new business had now become a sporadic drip—little more than sympathy and family-generated events. Which was a problem, of course, so far as securing enough future income to finance her Prêt a Party debts was concerned, but not so much of a problem when she thought of the amount of time it would free up for her to get used to being married. In fact, if it wasn’t for the wretched debts Nick had left her, she could have been very happy, slowly rebuilding her business on a much smaller and more containable scale.
Lucy had another gulp of her favourite caffeine fix and idly scanned the huge double-page spread of photographs from Nat’s christening which, true to form, Dorland had used as his centrepiece for that week’s A-List Life. There was one especially good photograph of her holding her new godson, with Marcus standing at her side.
Marcus. She was doing the right thing in marrying him, she told herself firmly.
There was a loud knock on her half-open office door and she swung round eagerly, hoping to see Marcus, although he had told her that he was driving to Manchester today to see a client.
‘Lucy. Good, I hoped you would be here.’
Andrew Walker.
Lucy stared at her unexpected and definitely unwanted visitor in apprehensive dismay, unable to say anything more than an uncomfortable, ‘Oh! Andrew. You did get my letter, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, Lucy. I got your letter,’ he confirmed, walking past her to stand in front of the window, so that her expression was plainly revealed to him whilst he was just a fuzzy dark blur against the sunlit windows.
‘I was very sorry to learn that you no longer wanted to proceed with our plans. In fact I was so disappointed that I thought I’d come and see you to see if I could find a way to persuade you to change your mind.’
Was she imagining it, or was there a subtle threat in those calmly spoken words? Lucy could feel the sharp hammer-blows of her heartbeat as it mirrored her fear.
‘I explained in my letter, Andrew. I’m getting married and—’
‘Yes, indeed. To Marcus Carring, I believe.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy acknowledged. ‘Yes. And once we are married Marcus wants to become my partner in Prêt a Party.’ That should convince Andrew Walker that it wasn’t just her he had to contend with now, even if she was in reality fibbing to him.
‘Really?’
There was something in the way Andrew Walker was looking at her that made Lucy feel afraid.
‘You know, my dear, you are turning down a wonderful business opportunity here. And as for allowing your hu
sband to be to become your partner…One never knows these days what the future of a marriage will be. Modern marriages are such very flimsy constructions at the best of times, don’t you think? A sensible woman might think it a good idea to maintain her own financial independence from her husband.’
Lucy only just managed to stop herself from gasping out loud. Had Andrew Walker somehow read her mind? What he had just said echoed everything she had been saying to herself.
‘My partners and I are prepared to make you a very generous offer to buy into Prêt a Party, Lucy, and I can give you my assurance that everything will be dealt with very discreetly. The cash could be paid into an overseas bank of your choice, should you want that, and no one apart from ourselves need ever know anything about the whole transaction.’
If she hadn’t known the truth about him she would have been very tempted to accept what he was offering her, Lucy recognised. Because, despite the fact that Marcus physically desired her, her fear that without love their marriage could not survive would not go away. It was that fear that had prevented her from accepting Marcus’s offer of finance and his suggestion that he came into the business, and that fear, too, that made her want to keep Prêt a Party under her own control and not share it with a husband.
But Andrew Walker’s statement had reminded her of everything Dorland had said to her.
‘No, I suppose they needn’t—including those poor wretches whose lives you’ve ruined to get the money in the first place,’ she burst out impetuously. ‘I know all about why you want Prêt a Party, you know—and what you’re doing.’
There was a small, tight silence and then Andrew Walker said sharply, ‘Do you indeed?’
She had made another mistake, Lucy realised. And a very bad one.
