The Tycoon's Marriage Deal

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  ‘Oh, Tillie, I’m so thrilled for you. Everyone will be when they hear the news,’ the nurse said. ‘When are you getting married?’

  ‘Erm...we haven’t set a date yet but—’

  ‘It’s fabulous you’ve found someone. Really fabulous. We’ve all been so worried about you.’

  The nurse led Tillie out of the room and softly closed the door. ‘Don’t listen to Mr Pendleton. He’s still a little out of sorts from his fall. He’ll be delighted for you in a few days. Give me a look at that ring. Gosh, isn’t it gorgeous? Much nicer than he-whose-name-is-not-to-be-mentioned.’

  ‘Yes. I’m very happy.’

  Who knew how easy it was to lie?

  ‘I have a theory about playboys,’ the nurse said. ‘They make the best husbands in the end. They get all that running around out of their system and then they settle down.’

  Tillie was pretty sure Blake McClelland had no intention of settling down and certainly not with someone like her. What was she going to do now? Mr Pendleton might doubt her engagement but the nurse clearly didn’t. It would be all over the village within hours. Tillie was effectively engaged to Blake even though she’d adamantly told him no. She could almost see his sardonic I’ve-got-you-where-I-want-you smile.

  She slipped out of the respite facility and back to her car. The ring was still stuck on her finger as if some mischievous supernatural forces had conspired against her.

  How was she going to face Blake now?

  * * *

  Blake came back to the bed and breakfast after tidying his mother’s grave at the cemetery. He hadn’t stayed in a B&B since he was a kid on one of the rare holidays his father took him on. But the cottage had a nice vibe—an old-world charm about it that made his business mind spark with ideas.

  However, he didn’t get a chance to discuss a business proposal when he entered the cottage’s rose-framed front door because Maude Rosethorne was standing there with a broad smile on her face.

  ‘Congratulations, Mr McClelland,’ she said. ‘We’re all so excited with the news of Tillie and you getting engaged. It’s the most romantic thing ever. It’s all over the village. We didn’t even know you two knew each other and now you’re getting married!’

  Blake had counted on that ring changing Tillie’s mind. What girl could resist a rock like that? It was worth a minor fortune, but he wasn’t quibbling over the expense—no expense was too much in his quest to get back his family property. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘What’s that old saying? When you’ve met the right one you just know?’

  ‘She’s a wonderful girl—but you don’t need me to tell you that,’ Mrs Rosethorne said. ‘Everyone loves Tillie. We’ve all been so worried about her after Simon jilted her. I suppose she’s told you all about that? Terrible, just terrible to leave her to face all the guests like that. He sent a text message. A text message! Didn’t have the backbone to see her face to face. He’s no longer welcome around these parts, let me tell you. No one gets to break our Tillie’s heart without all of us in the village having something to say about it.’

  Blake went to his room feeling relieved he’d offered Tillie the chance to end their relationship once his goal of securing McClelland Park was achieved. He didn’t want his father to feel unwelcome when he finally moved back home. Blake wasn’t interested in breaking any hearts. Tillie hadn’t bothered to disguise her instant dislike of him—a novel experience for him, as he usually had no trouble winning women over within seconds of meeting them.

  Her reaction to him amused him. He liked nothing more than a challenge, and cute little Matilda Toppington was nothing if not an Olympic-standard challenge. She was feisty and quick-witted and sharp-tongued with a body as delectable as the cakes and slices in her shop cabinet. Not beautiful in the traditional sense, but with the sort of understated looks that held a compelling fascination for him. For years he’d been surrounded by stunning-looking women, so much so they were starting to look the same. Even their personalities seemed similar—or maybe that was his fault for only ever dating a certain type.

  But when Tillie hitched her chin and glared down her uptilted nose at him with those flashing nutmeg-brown eyes, he couldn’t help thinking how unique she was, how refreshing and unaffected. Her mouth was on the fuller side with an adorable little Cupid’s bow. For the last couple of weeks he’d been fantasising about kissing those soft and pliable-looking lips. She might not like him but he knew raw physical attraction when he saw it. Such crackling chemistry would make their ‘engagement’ all the more entertaining. That was probably why she’d decided to run with the engagement in spite of telling him to take his offer and get out of Dodge before dawn. And why not? A fling between them wouldn’t be hurting anyone.

  He allowed himself a congratulatory smile.

  The ring had been the bait and she’d snapped it up just as he’d planned.

  * * *

  Tillie was walking Truffles around the lake in front of McClelland Park still wondering how on earth she was going to face Blake. Her phone had been running hot ever since she’d left the respite centre. When she went back to her shop, she’d explained to Joanne what had happened, but, instead of being upset on her behalf, Joanne had seemed inordinately thrilled, spouting such idiotic statements as ‘it’s meant to be’ and something about ‘fate’s meddling hand’. Joanne had even gone on to say how she thought Tillie was secretly in love with Blake but hadn’t yet admitted it to herself.

  In love with Blake McClelland?

  What a flipping joke. Tillie had been so put off by her assistant’s reaction she’d turned her phone off rather than face the barrage of hearty congratulations from everyone else.

  Everyone apart from Mr Pendleton, that was.

  How soon before Blake found out on the village gossip network? Should she text him or call him? She had his card somewhere...or had she thrown it out?

  Truffles suddenly pricked up her ears and looked to the front wrought-iron gates where a low-slung sports car was turning into the driveway. It came up through the avenue of silver birch trees like a sleek black panther, the deep throaty roars of the engine making the fine hairs on Tillie’s arm rise in a Mexican wave.

  Blake’s car was exactly like him. Potent. Powerful. Sexy.

  Truffles decided the car was the perfect prey and took off like a supersonic NASA rocket. Tillie lunged for her collar but missed and ended up falling onto her knees on the rough gravel. She clambered to her feet and inspected the bloody grazes to her knees. Why hadn’t she worn jeans instead of a skirt? She picked out a couple of stones and, taking a tissue from inside her bra, dabbed at the blood.

  Tillie limped to where Blake was standing next to his car. Truffles sat next to him as if she were the star pupil at obedience school.

  Blake glanced at Tillie’s knees and frowned. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘No—thanks to you,’ Tillie said. ‘You could have called or texted to let me know you were coming. Truffles has a thing about cars. If I’d known you were going to visit I would’ve put her on the lead.’

  ‘Let’s get you inside to clean up those wounds. They look painful.’ He offered her an arm but she sidestepped it and shot him a keep-away-from-me glare.

  ‘I think you’ve helped me enough for one day,’ Tillie said. ‘Do you realise the whole village is abuzz with the news of our engagement? I’ve had to turn my phone off because the calls and texts haven’t stopped with everyone’s congratulations.’

  His expression went from concerned to puzzled. Then his gaze zeroed in on the ring. ‘But I thought you accepted my offer and—’

  ‘Accept?’ Tillie snorted. ‘I did no such thing! I stupidly put your ring on to see what it looked like and it got stuck on my finger. Then I visited Mr Pendleton because the centre called to say he’d had a fall and he saw it there and laughed at me when I told him who gave it to me.’

  ‘Laughed?’

  Tillie clenched her teeth so hard she could have moonlighted as a nutcracker. ‘Yes. Laughed.
Apparently I’m too old-fashioned and sensible for someone like you and I have zero chance of ever taming you. But while Mr Pendleton didn’t buy it, the nurse came in and thought it was the best news she’d ever heard and has since told everyone and now I’m engaged to you and the whole damn community is clapping their hands in raptures of joy because poor jilted Tillie Toppington has got herself a new man. I swear to God I’m so furious I could scream loud enough to blow out my voice box.’

  Blake’s mouth did that trying-not-to-smile thing. ‘So why did you tell the old man I gave you the ring in the first place?’

  Tillie rolled her eyes as if she were in a movie about an exorcist. ‘Because the doctor told me Mr Pendleton was feeling a bit low and irritable after hitting his head so she said not to stress him too much. He saw the ring on my finger and asked me if my ex had come crawling back. I told him someone else had given it to me but he insisted I tell him who that someone was. Then I had to sit through three and a half hours of his paroxysms of laughter when I told him it was you.’

  ‘How did you explain our relationship?’

  Tillie loaded her voice with I’ve-got-you-now. ‘I told him you came into the shop and fell in love with me at first sight.’

  His laugh made something in her stomach tickle. ‘Don’t you mean love at first bite? One taste of your chocolate éclairs and I was hooked.’

  Tillie was annoyed he found this so amusing. That he found her so amusing. She stabbed a finger at his chest. ‘This whole flipping fiancée farce is all your fault.’

  He captured her hand as if he was worried she would bore a hole right through his chest. Not that her finger could ever get through the layer of marble-hard muscle he had going on there. She’d need a jackhammer for that. His pecs were practically as big as the flagstones in McClelland Park’s front hall.

  ‘Did he say he was going to sell the Park to me?’ he asked.

  ‘Is that all you can think about?’ Tillie pointed at her own chest this time. ‘This is my life we’re talking about here. My reputation. What is everyone going to think?’

  ‘They’re going to think well done you for landing yourself a wealthy good-looking fiancé after that jerk screwed you over.’

  ‘Yes, well, at least that’s one thing he didn’t get to do,’ she said before she could filter her tongue.

  A quick flash of concern crossed his features. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Never mind.’ She turned to look at Truffles, who was now lying at Blake’s feet like a devoted slave waiting to obey his master’s next command.

  Sickening. Just sickening.

  ‘Traitor,’ she said to the dog. ‘I knew Mr Pendleton should’ve chosen the whippet.’

  Truffles showed the whites of her melting brown eyes and gave an I’m-way-too-cute-for-you-to-be-angry-at-me whine.

  Blake chuckled. ‘Cute mutt.’ Then he looked at Tillie. ‘Aren’t you going to ask your new fiancé inside for a drink?’

  ‘No. I am not.’

  He gave a look not unlike the one Truffles had done moments earlier. ‘Come on, Tillie. We have to get our history straight otherwise Jim Pendleton won’t be the only one who’s not going to buy our engagement.’

  She speared him with a glare. ‘I don’t want people to buy it. I want this ridiculous situation to go away.’

  ‘It’s not going away until I get back this property,’ he said. ‘And, by the way, people are going to wonder why I’m not living here with you instead of at the B&B.’

  ‘If you move in here that doesn’t mean you get to make a move on me. Comprende?’

  That dark twinkle was back in his gaze. ‘We need to work on the old man to convince him to sell the Park to me now we’re engaged.’

  ‘I am not engaged to you.’ Tillie spat the words out like lemon pips. ‘Anyway, it’s probably not legal to get an old man with memory problems to sign anything legally binding.’

  Another flicker of concern passed over his features. ‘Has he got dementia?’

  ‘No, just a bit of temporary confusion from his fall,’ she said. ‘But I still don’t think it would be right to take advantage of that.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ He gave an on-off smile. ‘I’ll just have to be patient, won’t I?’

  He didn’t strike Tillie as a particularly patient man—not after ‘proposing’ to her within a couple of weeks of meeting her. But she couldn’t help noticing the way he kept glancing at the house where he had spent the first ten years of his childhood. The ten-bedroom Georgian mansion was positioned on woodland-fringed acreage with a lake in front. There were both formal and wild gardens and a conservatory that made the most of the morning sun.

  Tillie had moved in after Mr Pendleton’s stroke two months ago to take care of Truffles and now hated the thought of ever leaving. She could well understand Blake’s attachment to the place. If she had to picture a dream home then this wasn’t far off it. Was it mean spirited of her to stop him staying here instead of the B&B? She had never had a permanent place to call home because her father’s work as a vicar always required him to move into a vicarage owned by the parish. She had lived in the gamekeeper’s cottage at Simon’s parents’ property for seven years, because when her father had been transferred she’d no longer been able to stay at the vicarage and had wanted to finish her final year at the local school and then go on to catering college. But she could imagine for someone whose family had lived in a place like McClelland Park for generation after generation, the emotional attachment would be so much greater.

  Blake’s gaze returned from surveying the house to the droplets of blood tracking a pathway down her shins. ‘You really should get some antiseptic on those abrasions.’

  Tillie had forgotten all about her knees. It was hard to concentrate on anything but the grey-blue of his eyes and the shape of his mouth when he spoke. She couldn’t stop thinking about how his mouth would feel pressed to hers—whether it would be hard or soft or something in between. ‘Yes, right, well, then...erm...would you like to come in and have a look around while you’re here?’ The invitation was out before she could stop it.

  There was a spark of devilry in his gaze. ‘Are you sure the old man won’t mind an old-fashioned and sensible girl like you inviting a guy you only met a couple of weeks ago in?’

  She held up her left hand, her expression wry. ‘Why would he? We’re engaged—remember?’

  He grinned. ‘How could I forget?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  BLAKE STEPPED OVER the threshold of his family’s home and a wave of memories washed over him. For a moment—a brief moment—he had trouble controlling his composure. An ache spread from his heart to every corner and crevice of his chest—a tight, squeezing ache that snatched his breath away in degrees. Every room of this house contained memories—every window, every wall, every floorboard. He had spent the happiest years of his life here with the two people he’d loved more than anyone else in the world. This house epitomised for him that long-ago era of security and love and safety.

  The colour scheme had been changed over the years and the furnishings, of course, but the overall structure was exactly the same. The mullioned windows that fed the light in from outside, the polished wooden floors that creaked now and again when you walked across them. The staircase that led to the upper floors, the bannister he had slid down too many times to count. He could almost hear his mother’s light cheery voice calling out to him as he came in the front door. He could almost hear the click-clack of her heels on the floorboards and the smell of her flowery perfume, the gentle weight of her arms as they gathered him close in a loving hug...

  ‘I’ll leave you to have a wander around,’ Tillie said. ‘I’m going to clean up my knees.’

  Blake was pulled out of his reverie. ‘Let me help you. Besides, it was my fault you hurt yourself.’

  ‘I can put on my own plasters.’ Her voice had a note of icy hauteur he found amusing. But then a lot about her was amusing. Amusing and refreshing and tempting. />
  ‘I insist.’

  She let out a whatever sigh and turned in the direction of the nearest bathroom. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her pert behind, the way her skirt swished from side to side over it as she walked.

  He wondered if he could persuade her to let him stay with her here. He was reasonably comfortable at the B&B, if you could call comfortable a bed you disappeared into like a cloud—all except for his ankles and feet, that was. He almost gave himself concussion every time he walked through the door and Mrs Rosethorne and her all-you-can-eat breakfasts were doing their best to undo all the work he’d put in with his personal trainer.

  What was Tillie’s main issue? It was a big house. There were enough rooms for them to avoid contact if she preferred not to interact with him. Although, the sort of interaction he had in mind required close contact. Skin-to-skin contact.

  Blake followed her into the bathroom and crouched down in front of her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said, wide-eyed.

  He placed a gentle hand on her leg just above her knee. ‘Inspecting the wounds.’

  ‘Get your hands off me.’ Her voice had that starchy schoolmistress-tone thing going on.

  He glanced up at her. ‘You’ve got a piece of gravel in your knee. Hand me some tweezers and I’ll get it out for you.’

  Indecision flittered across her features. Then she let out another sigh and rummaged in the cupboard near the basin and handed him a pair of tweezers, some antiseptic and some cotton pads. ‘Go for it,’ she said, sitting on the closed toilet seat. ‘I never was one for playing doctors and nurses.’

  Blake smiled and set to work. ‘Am I hurting you?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Within a short time he had the grazes cleansed and covered with plasters and then got to his feet. Tillie rose from the toilet seat with twin pools of colour in her cheeks.