The Trophy Husband

by Lynne Graham

  Alex made no comment. Sara rested her head back, the tension draining out of her, her limbs slowly sinking into relaxation. 'As usual I'm not asking where we're going.'

  'You don't really care.'

  Her skin reddened. 'No…I'm just grateful for a break.'

  'I don't want gratitude, cara.'

  An odd chill ran down her spine. As she watched the countryside flying by she never forgot for one moment that she was sitting beside AlexRossini. Her awareness of him was so intense that she couldn't hide from it. The frozen front that she had once contrived to put up in his presence was now quite impossible to maintain.

  'We're almost there.' Alex swung off the road and drove down a long, tree-lined lane past a Gothic gatehouse.

  'Where is "there"?' She tested a smile, found it was not so difficult as she had imagined it would be.

  'Ladymead Hall. It's on the market and I have an

  appointment to view it.'

  'You want a house in the country?'

  'A base within easy reach of London.'Alex brought the powerful car to an abrupt halt before it hit a string of potholes. There was already a Mercedes parked ahead of them.

  Sara gazed out at the mellowed brick frontage of the Elizabethan manor house. Interest flickered and then slowly flamed. She climbed out. Sunlight glinted off the mullioned windows, several of which were boarded up. The ancient building had the same sad air of neglect as the overgrown grounds.

  'Do you want me to wait in the car?' Sara asked abruptly across the bonnet.

  'Of course not.'Alex strolled forward to greet the suavely suited estate agent, but Sara changed course and walked over to the entrance, not wishing to intrude.

  'We'll explore alone.' Rejoining her, Alex planted a glossy brochure carelessly in her hand. 'You can give me the feminine viewpoint.'

  The interior was better preserved than the exterior had suggested. The great hall had a massive stone fireplace and a wonderful flagstone floor. From room to room Sara wandered silently by Alex's side, her rapt face taking in the intact linenfold panelling, the elaborate if filthy plasterwork on the ceilings. The kitchen still rejoiced in massive built-in dressers. She pictured an Aga…a green one…in the fireplace. No, not there-that old black range ought to be cleaned up and preserved, she decided. The Aga would have to go at the other end.

  A mouse ran over her foot; she didn't notice it. She roamed industriously through the maze of little dirty rooms which ran off the kitchen, mentally labelling them-logs, laundry, cloakroom, boiler room, junk- and frowned in intense concentration when she ran out of labels. She climbed the lavishly carved oak staircase, her fingers lingering here and there on the elaborate exuberance of the Jacobean ornamentation. Not a single word passed her lips.

  Finally, at the head of the long gallery, sunlight beaming in from the windows in diamond patterns, dust motes dancing in the air, Sara uttered a dreamy sigh of enchantment and then endeavored to be rationally judgmental for Alex's benefit. 'It's a very large house.'

  'Do you think so? I thought it was rather modest,' Alex admitted softly.

  Sara gazed out of a tall window and another smile curved her generous mouth. 'There's a topiary garden down there. I wonder if it could be saved? I suppose there once would have been a herb garden too.'

  'An enormous amount of renovation would be required.'

  Sara's head spun round, dismayed green eyes flying to him. 'You surely wouldn't let that put you off?'

  'I have to confess that I would prefer to buy after someone else had done the dirty work.'

  She thought of his immaculate Georgian house in London, the cool, contemporary decor of the few rooms that she had glimpsed, and nodded in rueful understanding.

  'But I can see this as a family house… as a home,' Alex said, his accent feathering almost seductively over the syllables.

  'Yes,' she sighed, thinking, Definitely not down Alex's street.

  'Marry me and make it that…"

  Her lashes flew up on stunned emerald eyes, her breath tripping in her throat. She stared back at him in a daze of disbelief.

  'I want a wife, and…eventually…children.'Alex selected the last word with the same utterly complete calm. 'I also want you. We both appear to want the same things at this stage in our lives. Why should we not seek them together?'

  The tip of her tongue stole out to moisten her full lower lip. Her mind was a total blank, and then she met Alex's dark golden gaze and the electrifying effect scorched along every nerve-ending, igniting a sudden surge of colour in her cheeks. She trembled, shattered by the immediacy of a response over which she had absolutely no control.

  He took a prowling step closer. 'We already have the passion without which no marriage of convenience could hope to prosper. You want me, bellamia… do not be ashamed to admit that.'

  'I can't believe that you want to get married-'

  'I'm thirty-four, Sara…and I openly confess to having enjoyed my freedom for many years. However, women ate not the only ones who get the urge to settle down with one partner.'

  'I know but-'

  'A practical marriage and a civilised relationship-that is what I am offering you. Where there is no strong emotion there will be no pain either,' Alex pointed out, his night-dark eyes skimming over her troubled face. 'In short, I will not hurt you, Sara.'

  Alex didn't want a wife who was madly in love with him. He didn't want to become the focus of emotions that he had no intention of returning. That made a cold kind of sense to her. Women in love could be very demanding creatures. A woman in love with a man who did not love her might easily become jealous, possessive and insecure if the inequality within the relationship began to threaten her self-respect.

  'Why me…for heavens' sake?'Sara murmured not quite steadily. 'You hardly know me.'

  'I beg to differ. You have worked for me for a year. I know you to be cool under pressure, efficient, something of a perfectionist and an excellent organiser. You y are more likely to be early for an appointment than late. You are respected and liked by your subordinates but regarded as rather reserved because you never participate in the office gossip.'

  Sara was blushing fierily. 'I do hope you'll put all that in a reference for when I go job-hunting again. I sound like a model employee.'

  'You were, but you were never ambitious in the career stakes.'

  Sara turned away, her lower limbs feeling as if they were stuffed with cotton wool. 'No,' she conceded wryly.

  'Which also suits my purposes. I travel a great deal. A wife with a demanding career of her own would have little time to spare for home and family in my absence.'

  'Home and family'? Damn him, damn him, damn him for the calculating, coolly assured character assessor that he was! Alex knew what she had so lately lost, could only be aware of the strength of the lure that he was casting out to her when she was facing a wretchedly uncertain future, bereft of everything that she had expected to be hers.

  'And, if you will forgive me for making the point, I believe I have also seen you at your worst.'

  Her narrow back went rigid. 'Falling-down drunk and desperate?'

  'You were still strong, still worthy of my respect… you threw no tantrums, wallowed in no self-pity and indulged in no vindictive outbursts. You behaved with remarkable self-restraint. I admired that.'

  He had to be a lethal poker player. Sara had an insane image of herself going down on her knees and kissing his feet in gratitude for such assurances. But Alex had treated her with respect, consideration and understanding, without any overtones of superiority or pity. All those things Alex had given her and she had taken, not even truly valuing what she was receiving at the time.

  Yet Brian, whom she had loved and trusted and believed in, had almost destroyed her. Brian… still talking about reconciliation with the arrogant and distasteful

  conviction that no matter what he had done she would ultimately forgive him. Brian, coolly disparaging her worth with his incredulity that a male of Alex's wealth
and importance could find her deserving of interest. She had never seen that conceit and egotism in Brian until now. There was a savage irony in making a comparison between two such radically different men, one whom she had adoringly placed on a pedestal and endowed with every conceivable virtue, the other whom she had disliked and misjudged and distrusted. She was ashamed of that now-ashamed that her gauche unease in Alex's disturbingly physical presence had led her into such unjustifiable prejudice.

  'Alex… I can't deny that you're tempting me… but I don't think that I'm in a state of mind right now to be dealing with such a major decision,' Sara returned unsteadily, her jewel-like eyes unguarded and anxious.

  'No doubt you feel that you don't know me well enough.'

  'I know you well enough, Alex,' Sara said a little shyly, reflecting that while she had been at her worst Alex had been at his best. 'And the one thing this mess with Brian has taught me is that even though I've known him almost all my life I didn't really know him at all when the chips were down. I didn't suspect that he was still attracted to Antonia and I didn't once notice anything odd in his behaviour, but then, as you said, love makes you take people for granted, gives you a false, rosy picture and too many high-flown ideas. Was it like that for you- I mean with…?'

  'Elissa?Naturally. At that age I was a great romantic. But the pain fades… I can assure you of that,' he replied very drily.

  Elissa-lovely name, she thought abstractedly as she gazed at Alex's chiselled golden profile. He was so very, very good-looking that even at a time like this, when it was so important that she should not be distracted, she was.

  'You're a very rich man,' Sara pointed out in some embarrassment. 'There must be loads of women… you know… who would be much more suitable than me…" Alex dealt her a cynically amused smile. 'But you are very special, cara. My embarrassment of riches did not tempt you an inch away from your moral standards last week. I liked that too. I would not like to be marriedj solely on the basis of what I can deliver materially.'

  It crossed her mind that Alex believed he had her so well taped that she would provide him with no unwelcome surprises. Perhaps all that she had despised in herself a mere week ago was ironically Alex's standard of what his wife should be. An old-fashioned home-' maker with traditional values, highly unlikely to take off with the chauffeur one day, or announce that pregnancy might ruin her figure, or make spoilt-rich-girl demands! on a male who was very much accustomed to having everything go his way.

  'I don't know what to say…'

  'You say yes.' Alex stretched out his hands and she reached for them, helplessly revelling in the warmth of physical contact.. 'It would be crazy.'

  'If you think that, my talents as a negotiator must be failing.'

  Alex was a brilliant negotiator, pulling off the kind of stunning deals which made his competitors howl in anguish. But to negotiate a marriage proposal seemed so…so cold. Hurriedly she squashed the suspicion. There was nothing cold about the male arms relentlessly tugging her closer, nothing cold about utilising intelligence and cool, calm forethought in so important a field as choosing a life partner, she told herself.

  'I can't think straight…'

  He laughed softly, dark eyes flashing gold with innate male satisfaction. He knew why she was in such a con-dition, knew that he could draw her, unresisting andj quivering, into contact with every hard, muscular line of his length and extract a response that she had not yet learned to control.

  With a shapely hand he stroked a silky strand of black hair back from her brow. Her heartbeat was racing like crazy, her breasts lifting within a light cotton bra which suddenly felt unbearably restrictive. 'I also like the fact that I excite you…' Alex purred.

  A flush of horribly self-conscious heat marked out her slanted cheekbones as he glanced down at the thrusting evidence of her stiffened nipples poking through the cotton jersey. 'Don't be shy,' he reproved her, leaning her back against the wall, sliding his hands below the T-shirt to skim caressingly up over the smooth skin of her taut ribcage.

  Sara stopped breathing, held still by the smoulder of his golden eyes. With breathtaking cool, he flipped the bra out of his path. Her breasts sprang full and heavy into his shaping hands. Sensation fired a bitter-sweet ache between her thighs. She trembled. His thumbs grazed the achingly sensitive buds and she moaned and jerked, looking down at her wantonly bare flesh in mingled disbelief and excitement.

  His dark head lowered. He ran the tip of his tongue along her full lower lip and then, with innately erotic precision, intruded sexily into the moist interior already invitingly opened to him. A stifled moan was torn from her, her hands rising of their own volition and clutching at his shoulders to prevent her sliding down the wall in an inelegant heap of shuddering responsiveness.

  'If you don't become my wife, I'll make you my mistress,' Alex warned softly. 'I am not going to go away, not about to politely withdraw in gentlemanly defeat.' He straightened, expertly replaced her disarranged clothing. Sara was shaking but not so controlled by the dissastisfied ache of her shamefully willing body that she was deaf to the message he wanted her to receive. Angry humiliation leapt up in place of passion. She stepped back and flung him a look of warning. 'If you ever do that tome again, Alex, I'll slap your face-hard! I am not some brainless little toy you can play with and I'm not a wind-up doll either. I will not be controlled

  or manipulated by you!'

  'But you will marry me.'

  The conviction with which he made that assurance threw Sara even further off balance.

  'I… I need to think about it,' she muttered unevenly.

  'Back in that madhouse? How could you think there? I want an answer now,' Alex declared. 'Yes or no will suffice… for this round.'

  She wrenched her eyes from him, struggled to risq above the quite startling temptation to tell him to take his proposal and jump off a cliff. Her brain told her that she was too emotionally charged up right now to make a level-headed decision but every other natural prompting urged blind, immediate acceptance.

  Alex was offering her everything that she had ever wanted on terms that she could fulfil, and on one level there was a part of her, which she tried and failed to overcome, that was helplessly, deeply influenced by the knowledge that Alex wanted her and valued her. That awareness was balm to her salvaged ego and Alex was offering her an unbelievably welcome escape from a situation that was threatening to become quite intolerable.

  'Yes.' The instant she said it she almost retracted it again, but then she thought of how it would feel to stand on the sidelines while Antonia married Brian. She would be an object of pity, the spectre at the feast, the onlooker who embarrassed everyone. In one small family there was no room for the rejected bride and her replacement. Why put herself through such humiliation? Nobody could possibly feel sorry for AlexRossini's chosen wife… could they?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'ITS a magnificent gown. Of course we couldn't have afforded anything this elaborate,' JaniceDalton remarked stiffly. 'I expect with the number of important people coming Alex wanted you to look really special. But your uncle and I will feel total frauds sitting at the top table. We haven't done a thing to help… But then it's all been done in such a frantic rush…'

  Sara sent the older woman a veiled glance, troubled by her constrained manner. Alex's revelation about Antonia and Brian had shattered her aunt. Both the Daltons had been very upset by their daughter's behaviour. Brian and Antonia's deceit had been a bitter pill to swallow, unsweetened by Antonia's refusal to express the slightest regret.

  'Sara… it's still not too late to change your mind,' her aunt muttered tightly.

  The wedding was a mere two hours away. Sara almost laughed at the idea. 'I don't want to change my mind.'

  'Alex is very rich and very handsome,' the older woman added with a rather peevish edge to her delivery. 'But he's also a rather overwhelming personality. Naturally, I want you to be happy… but are you really sure you're making the right decision?'


  'I want to marry Alex.' That belief had buoyed Sara up over every day of the past month. It was like a rock that she clung to when the winds of change threatened to howl around her. As long as she had focused on Alex, her future home and her approaching wedding, she had been able to sit safe inside a neat little emotional cocoon. Brian and Antonia had gone back to London. She had seen neither of them since that day when Alex had swept her off in the Bugatti to Ladymead. Both her cousin and her ex-fianc6 had found retreat from family recriminations the most comfortable option.

  Ladymead… An abstracted smile curved Sara's lips

  Alex had bought her dream house. He had sent her back to the car with the satirical assurance that he didn't want the estate agent to catch one glimpse of her enchanted face. 'Do you know if there's anybody else interested?' she had pressed anxiously.

  'There is precious little that I desire that I cannot buy.' For an instant, assailed by the dryness of that tone and the sudden coolness of those brilliant dark eyes, Sara had experienced the most peculiar inner chill.

  She shook off the memory, choosing to recall instead her aunt and uncle's shaken response to Alex's announcement that same evening that they were getting married as soon as it could be arranged. 'A rather over whelming personality'… Yes, the Daltons had been so overpowered by Alex that they hadn't uttered a word of protest, had indeed struggled valiantly to conceal their astonishment, but there had also been perceptible relief in their reaction. If Sara had found another bridegroom, nobody needed to feel quite so bad.

  Alex had assured them that he would handle all the arrangements. And he had… or his staff had. Sara hadn't had an input either and hadn't wanted one. She had spent the past year up to her throat and revelling in all the endless tiny details of bridal fervour. This time she was grateful not to be involved, not to be reminded of that other wedding which would now never take place. Alex had been supremely tactful, she thought gratefully.