Husband on Trust

by Jacqueline Baird

  She could almost forgive him Margot’s amazing intrusion last night. Her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. Alex’s face had been a picture of outraged horror when she had clicked the light on and he had realised it was Margot climbing into their bed! He could not have faked his expression in a million years. He was usually so self-possessed—even in the throes of passion he never totally lost control.

  Passion. That was another problem. Lisa had decided to stay, but was she prepared to crawl back into bed with Alex? The next week was taken care of; he wouldn’t bother her knowing she had her period.

  A deep sigh escaped her and, arching her back to get the tension out of her shoulders, she picked up the glass of milk and drained it, before replacing it on the tray. Then she stood up and carried the lot back to the kitchen. Lounging around the roof garden solved nothing, she told herself firmly. Action was what was needed.

  Half an hour later Lisa was standing in the hall, a pile of clothes topped with lacy underwear in her arms, as she tried to push open the guest bedroom door with her rear.

  ‘What the devil….?’ Alex was walking towards her discarding his tie in the process, and looking distinctly puzzled.

  ‘You’re back early,’ she said inanely, and met his dark gaze with a frown, her eyes lingering on the chiselled features and settling briefly on his mouth. Which was a mistake. He was tight-mouthed with anger.

  ‘No, just in time, it would seem. Care to explain what you are doing? Or shall I guess,’ he drawled cynically, moving to stand inches from her. His hand plucked a pair of crimson lace briefs off the top of the pile of clothes she was carrying, and swung the offending garment back and forth on one long finger.

  He had caught her at a disadvantage, with her back to the door and her hands full. She had nowhere to go. ‘Put them back,’ she muttered, the colour rising in her cheeks, and she knew her face must almost match the briefs.

  ‘I think that is my line, Lisa.’ A faint smile tugged the edges of his mouth, but the expression in his eyes was still totally cynical. ‘That room is your study, nothing more. So try acting like an adult instead of a spoilt child and return these.’ He dropped the red briefs back on to the pile of clothes. ‘Back to where they belong, in the master suite. I thought we had settled our differences this morning. I hope I was not wrong?’ Shrugging out of his jacket, he hooked it over one shoulder and with his free hand began unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.

  He was too close, his height and wide shouldered frame intimidating. Her gaze slipped to the broad expanse of his tanned chest, and Lisa felt the familiar flood of warmth weaken her defences. She fought against it and, glancing up, her eyes met his. He knew how he affected her, at least on a sexual level, but to her surprise a tender smile curled his mouth.

  ‘Sometimes I forget how innocent you are,’ Alex murmured, and trailed a long finger over her burning cheek.

  She felt about two inches tall, and totally foolish. She had decided to stay with Alex, but no way was she climbing meekly back into bed with him. ‘Not any more,’ she said bitterly, ‘you saw to that.’

  ‘Hush.’ He pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Allow me to apologise. You should never have been subjected to what happened last night. The lady had no right to intrude on our privacy, and it was unkind of me to even hint that you were in any way at fault. As your husband, it is my duty to protect you from any embarrassment, and I singularly failed to do so.’ With the pad of his finger he flicked her bottom lip before dropping his hand to his side. ‘Please forgive me.’

  Lisa’s mouth fell open and her blue eyes widened to their fullest extent on his serious face. Alex apologising and begging forgiveness? She could hardly believe it.

  ‘Forgive you?’ she parroted.

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I should have realised you, with your lack of experience of predatory females who are all too common in the world, were in no position to argue with a woman like Margot. The golden purity that drew me to you in the first place should have reminded me of the fact. So, once again, am I forgiven?’

  His deep velvet voice flowed like honey over her raw nerves, and in a voice she hardly recognised as her own, Lisa said, ‘Yes, apology accepted.’ In that moment she would have forgiven him murder. His body moved in close against her own, his dark head bent and he angled a kiss across her open lips, a kiss of tenderness and gentle possession.

  Lisa stared up into his sexy, slumberous eyes as he raised his head and moved back a pace. ‘Thank you, Lisa.’ he husked.

  Fighting down the urge to fling her arms around him—an impossible action given she was still holding a pile of garments, she realised, glancing down at her overloaded arms—she was suddenly aware of where she was and what she had been doing, and she stumbled into speech. ‘Actually, it is I who should thank you. The computer is brilliant; it was good of you to buy it for me, but no need.’ She was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop.

  ‘Enough, sweetheart.’ Alex grinned, and with a toss of his dark head he indicated the door opposite. ‘After you.’

  Her nervous tension dissolved and, taking a deep breath, she slipped past him and into the dressing room. Alex confounded and confused her, and retreat seemed the best option, but that did not mean she was going to crawl back into bed with him. Moving swiftly, she quickly placed the lingerie and clothes in the requisite drawers and the closet. His apology, she knew, was genuine, but it did not alter the fact he was about to betray her, by dealing with Nigel. Perhaps that was the difference between men and women, Lisa thought sadly. Men could separate business completely from their emotional life.

  Lisa, unfortunately, could not. By the same token, she knew she would never agree to Lawson’s being flattened to make way for something else. It was her parents’ memorial. Maybe that made her a poor businesswoman, but she did not care. There had to be more to life than simply the pursuit of riches. But she had a growing conviction her husband did not share her view.

  Reluctantly she walked back into the bedroom; she heard the sound of the shower from the ensuite bathroom and heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t have to face Alex again just yet; a glance at her watch told her it was five. Time to have a cup of tea and restore her equilibrium before she got ready for the evening ahead.

  ‘Pour me a cup,’ Alex commanded, and Lisa almost dropped the teapot. He had showered and shaved and was sporting a pair of well-washed jeans and nothing else.

  ‘I didn’t think you drank tea?’ she murmured.

  Pulling out a chair opposite her he sat down. ‘If you do, I do. It is part of marriage, the sharing.’ Alex’s faintly accented statement had a mocking edge as he reached out and accepted the cup she had automatically filled for him.

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose so,’ she acknowledged.

  ‘Which is why I thought, tomorrow, you and I could spend the day in the countryside. I had my people get on to some real estate agents while we were away, and they have come up with a couple of quite decent looking properties.’

  ‘Properties? You mean houses?’

  ‘But of course.’ And with a brief glance around the kitchen Alex returned his attention to her puzzled face. ‘This place is adequate in the short term, but obviously we will need a family home. Knowing you as I do the country is the answer, I think.’

  Lisa sipped her tea, unsure of how to respond. She had always lived in a large house on the outskirts of Stratford-upon-Avon; she had only to walk out of her garden to take a stroll along country lanes. Alex was right; she did prefer the country. But what of Alex? While not notorious as an international jet-setter like his father, she wasn’t sure she could see him as a country squire. ‘Do you actually have a proper home?’ she surprised herself by asking. ‘I mean, apart from here?’

  His black eyes twinkled with laughter. ‘I hate to spoil my image, but in fact I actually still live with my mother. Officially my residence is the villa on Kos. The yacht is berthed in the harbour there, and whenever I have time I go back home. Otherwi
se I tend to stay in an apartment the company owns, or a hotel.’

  ‘Of course!’ Lisa exclaimed. ‘I should have guessed the villa we stayed in when we visited your mother was yours.’ She remembered thinking at the time that the sitting room and bedroom of their suite had had a very lived-in feel about them; the pictures on the walls had been mostly of boats—a hobby of Alex’s—and there had been a couple of trophies for yacht racing that had borne Alex’s name. For a few timeless seconds her eyes locked with his and they shared a mutual memory of a night spent in sheer bliss.

  ‘Yes,’ Alex confirmed, his eyes sweeping over her shoulders and the curve of her breast before returning to study the surprised and faintly embarrassed expression on her delicately etched features. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. ‘But now I think I am old enough to own my home,’ he teased. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  Lisa couldn’t disagree without getting into a morass of lies. The truth was not an option. She was waiting to see if Alex was going to betray her, along with her stepbrother. She gave the only answer she could think of. ‘Yes, well,’ she qualified, ‘we will see.’ And, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet, she added, ‘But right now I’d better get dressed. What time did you say we were meeting your father?’

  Only the slight narrowing of his dark eyes gave away the fact her evasion had been noted and disliked, but, rising to his feet, he said, ‘Seven or seven-thirty. I have a few calls to make in my study. I won’t be long.’

  The bathroom off the master bedroom was almost as big as the bedroom itself. Elegantly designed and constructed in pale pink streaked marble, it held a large double shower and a circular spa bath. Plus all the usual facilities. The lingering scent of Alex hung on the air, making her catch her breath.

  She did not linger in the shower and, as she had washed her hair that morning, five minutes later she entered the dressing room, a towel wrapped around her slender curves, and selected fresh briefs and quickly slipped them on.

  Seated at the dressing table, she twisted the long length of her hair into a high pleat on the back of her head. With the deft use of a few pins, she quickly had a very fashionable hairstyle. She pulled a few tendrils of hair loose around her face and the back of her neck and surveyed the finished result. Sophisticated, but not too contrived, she thought, and then began applying her make-up.

  Rising to her feet, she crossed to the cupboards that ran the full length of two walls.

  Sliding open one of the doors, she withdrew the gown she had hung there the night before, ready for this evening’s dinner party. She eyed the dress with dismay. When she had bought it in a boutique in Stratford she had thought it was perfect, with stiletto-heeled evening shoes and a purse dyed to match. The whole ensemble was suitable for a sophisticated lady wanting to seduce her husband. Now she was not so sure. But realistically she had nothing else; the clothes she had packed were day and casual wear. So, unless she wanted to meet Alex’s father in trousers or a business suit, she had no choice.

  She stepped into the blue gown and pulled the zip up its side. It was a simple sheath; the bodice had a bra built in and was cut straight across her breasts in a band of delicately beaded embroidery, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. The rest stuck to her like a second skin, to end some six inches above her knees in another band of beading. She slipped her feet into the shoes, then quickly slipped pearl studs into her ear lobes, and fastened the matching string of pearls around her throat. She dabbed some of her favourite perfume behind her ears and the back of her knees. Straightening, she turned towards the mirror to cast her reflection a brief glance.

  ‘Wow, that is some dress.’

  Lisa turned at the sound of Alex’s voice, and felt her breath catch at the image he presented. He was still only wearing jeans, and his hand had obviously been ruffling his hair, but there was something about his stance, a sense of predatory strength as his dark eyes swept down over her curvaceous body and lingered for an instant on the long length of her legs before returning to her face. The deepening gleam of sexual desire turned his eyes to black as they clashed with hers.

  ‘Maybe we should forget dinner,’ Alex murmured, stepping towards her, his intention obvious.

  ‘You’d better hurry up and get dressed, or we’ll be late,’ she retaliated, as she deftly sidestepped around him. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  ‘Your’re right; I got trapped on the telephone. Be a sweetheart and mix me a whisky and soda. I have a feeling I am going to need it tonight.’

  ‘What about driving?’ she murmured.

  ‘Bert is driving us there, and we will grab a taxi back; no need for the old boy to have a late night.’

  A few minutes later, she walked back into the bedroom, a glass of whisky and soda in her hand. She stopped inside the door. Alex was slipping on the jacket of his dinner suit, and he turned at her entrance.

  ‘Thanks, Lisa.’ He moved to her side and took the glass from her hand; his fingers brushed hers and sent a swift jolt of electricity up her arm. He was devastatingly attractive at any time, but wearing a superbly cut dinner suit, with his black hair slicked back from his broad forehead, he exuded an aura of powerful male magnetism that few men possessed. She watched as he raised the glass to his mouth and drained it. She was fascinated by the way his strong tanned throat moved when he swallowed, and only realised she was staring when he spoke.

  ‘Come on, Lisa, we’re cutting it fine as it is.’

  At the hotel the doorman opened the car door almost before it had stopped. Taking a deep breath, Lisa alighted with some elegance, and before she could even take a step Alex was at her side, his hand under her elbow to guide her inside…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WALKING from the brightness of the fine June evening into the darkened interior of the hotel Lisa was blinded for a second, and she stumbled slightly. Alex tightened his grip on her arm.

  ‘You did not hit the whisky as well, I hope,’ he quipped, his dark eyes laughing down at her in easy intimacy.

  The charm of his smile squeezed her heart. ‘No,’ she snapped, scared by the emotion he could so easily arouse in her. ‘Though being blackmailed by one’s husband is reason enough for anyone to hit the bottle,’ she informed him with sweet sarcasm.

  ‘Blackmailed?’ His brows drew together in a frown. ‘Ah, you mean your beloved stepfamily. I was in a hurry this morning and I said the first thing that came into my head.’

  ‘So you say,’ she murmured. ‘But it worked. I’m here at your side instead of at home in Stratford.’ She didn’t know why she was needling him, and as for her stepfamily, Nigel was certainly not her beloved anything…

  ‘Your home is with me,’ Alex said, his grip on her arm tightening. ‘Now drop this stupid conversation. This evening—’ He stopped in mid-sentence. Lisa followed the direction of his gaze and felt her heart sink in her chest.

  Some thirty feet away but moving towards them was a tall, overweight, grey-haired man. The family likeness was unmistakable; it had to be Alex’s father. By his side was a young woman, dark-haired and beautiful, thirty-something, and moreover someone Lisa had met before.

  ‘Damn, I thought I had frightened the woman off,’ Alex swore, his dark eyes narrowing intently on the approaching couple.

  Lisa straightened her shoulders and shrugged off Alex’s supporting hand. ‘Obviously not. Fiona Fife, I believe, another one of your lady-friends.’ She was determined to act the sophisticate tonight in front of Alex and his father, but she had a horrible feeling it was not going to be so easy, especially if she was going to keep bumping into her husband’s mistresses at every turn!

  Alex glanced at her, his dark eyes clashing with her angry blue. ‘I do believe you’re jealous,’ he prompted softly.

  Lisa gave a slight shrug, pretending indifference. ‘Should I be?’ she asked lightly, and held his gaze with difficulty.

  ‘No. You are the only girl for me, darling, plus I am not old enough for that particular lady,’ h
e drawled mockingly, with a brief glance at the other couple. Tilting his head towards Lisa, he added, sotto voce, ‘It is my father she has designs on. She is hopeful of becoming wife number six. Our Italian friend informed me of that at that party we attended in Monte Carlo. I did try to warn her off, with tales of his weak heart and nowhere near as much money as she imagines, but it looks like I failed.’ His firm mouth twisted in a wry grimace. ‘Not for the first time, unfortunately.’

  Inexplicably, Lisa’s spirits lifted considerably at his words. Now she knew why he had danced with the woman when they were on their honeymoon, and somehow it made her feel a whole lot better.

  ‘Brace yourself, here they come.’ Alex slid his arm around her waist and urged her forward. ‘Father,’ he greeted the older man warmly. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘Indeed it has,’ the older man agreed. ‘You’ve met Fiona?’ He indicated the woman at his side, and both Alex and Lisa gave a social smile and said hello to the black-haired beauty.

  ‘And this must be your wife.’ Mr Solomos senior’s dark eyes were so like his sons as he scrutinised Lisa from head to toe, and then he broke out into a broad grin. ‘Charming, absolutely beautiful. Though you could have told me, Alex. I thought I was the only one who married quickly in our family. Obviously you have inherited some of my traits after all.’

  She felt Alex stiffen at her side but, ignoring his father’s comment he simply said, ‘Lisa, allow me to introduce you to my father, Leo, and don’t be taken in by his charm; it is his stock-in-trade.’

  Lisa held out her hand and the old man engulfed it in his. He looked like Alex, though he was a few inches shorter, but he did not have the same aura of compelling dynamism that Alex possessed in such abundance.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said formally, and felt the colour rise in her face when Leo laughed out loud.

  ‘So formal, so very English. I hope you are a match for my son’s fiery Greek temperament.’