Taggart's Woman

by Carole Mortimer

  Read this classic romance by USA Today bestselling author Carole Mortimer, now available for the first time in e-book!

  A marriage for inheritance…

  To inherit her rightful share of her family business, Heather Danvers is forced to marry her late father’s partner, Daniel Taggart—a rough-edged, self-made millionaire, whose contempt for Heather seems beyond obvious!

  Yet in the two years since they first met, Heather has fallen for her captivating, yet distant, husband. But Heather doesn’t know that Daniel is hiding a secret—one that, if proved true, could have consequences… Can Heather show Daniel that there’s more to their marriage than convenience?

  Originally published in 1987

  Taggart’s Woman

  Carole Mortimer

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  AS PARTIES went, this was a good one. But then, all the parties at the Danvers’ house were sure to be good, the social successes of the year more than one guest had been heard to praise during the evening.

  Heather kept a watchful eye on the enjoyment of all her guests, while dividing her time between the groups gathered around talking, making sure that no one was left out, that everyone was either dancing, talking, eating, or flirting, as she was. No one came to a Danvers’ party and claimed to be bored. Except, perhaps, for one man.

  Her violet gaze flickered to him in annoyance. He was standing slightly apart from everyone else, looking as though he had dressed for a party in the black evening suit and snowy white shirt, even holding a partially drunk glass of champagne in his hand. And yet Heather didn’t need to be any closer to him than the length of the room to know he was looking down his contemptuous nose at both her and her guests!

  Her father had always insisted on inviting his business partner to every social function they held, not because he liked the other man, but because he enjoyed seeing how uncomfortable Daniel Taggart was among people who merely tolerated him because of his wealth, rather than liked the man himself. Heather had invited Daniel for quite a different reason.

  Why couldn’t he at least try to look as if he were enjoying himself—even if he wasn’t? She was no happier with this situation than he was, but at least everyone thought she was!

  She stopped to chat with several people on her way over to Daniel’s side, seeming as if she were ecstatically happy, all the time getting closer and closer to him, watching as he threw the remains of his champagne to the back of his throat before reaching for another glass from one of the circulating waiters. In the two years Heather had known him she had never seen Daniel drunk, but there was a first time for everything!

  At last she reached his side, the warm smile curving her lips not reaching the coldness of her eyes. ‘Could you stop swilling vintage champagne back as if it were water?’ she hissed vehemently.

  ‘Or beer, Miss Danvers?’ he taunted, taking another large swallow of the bubbly wine.

  Her cheeks became flushed, her eyes flashing warningly. ‘The only snob standing here, Mr Taggart, is you,’ she snapped.

  ‘Oh, really?’ Grey eyes were narrowed angrily. ‘Then maybe I should leave—’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ she warned furiously. ‘It may have escaped your notice, but you are supposed to be co-host of this party.’

  ‘This isn’t a party,’ he scorned, slamming his glass down angrily on the table. ‘It’s one last parting joke from Max to me!’

  ‘And me,’ she rasped bitterly.

  Daniel’s gaze raked over her scathingly. ‘Heather Danvers, the socialite daughter of Max Danvers, marrying the self-made millionaire Daniel Taggart, for whom the rough edges haven’t even begun to be smoothed—how will you stand it, my dear!’ he derided with contempt.

  The colour came and then went again in her cheeks, her eyes hugely purple. She knew the figure she presented tonight, the black gown clinging alluringly to her slender curves, her bare arms and shoulders deeply tanned, her hair a swathe of midnight-black waves falling to just below her shoulders, her make-up perfect; everything about her was as elegantly beautiful as the daughter of Maximilian Danvers should be.

  She had dressed this way for the party that celebrated her engagement and forthcoming marriage to the man at her side who looked at her so disdainfully!

  One last parting joke from her father, Daniel had said. Only there was nothing in the least funny about the two of them being forced to marry to maintain complete control over the airline her father had built up over the last twenty years, and in which Daniel Taggart had become a partner two years ago.

  The illness that had been eating away at her father’s body for a year before his death six months ago had embittered him more than any of them had realised, the reading of his will revealing that Heather could only inherit her share of the company if she married Daniel Taggart, and that, should they fail to marry within one year after his death, his shares were to be sold on the open market to the highest bidder, except, he stipulated, to Daniel Taggart himself. He had also neatly taken care of Heather choosing the money over marriage to Daniel Taggart, by stating that any money made by the sale of the shares was to be given to numerous charities.

  Heather felt as though he had physically slapped her from the grave as she sat in on the will-reading, knowing why he punished her, denying her the one thing he knew she wanted. Her father had hated her and had never lost an opportunity, within the privacy of their home, to let her know how he felt about her. Even in death he wasn’t going to let her forget that.

  He had hated Daniel Taggart too, for coming along with the money he needed when the airline began to falter, had reluctantly made the other man his partner rather than lose his company completely. Now he was forcing Daniel to accept Heather as his wife or risk losing the control over the company that now meant so much to him. Daniel knew that if it came to selling the shares he could lose everything he had worked for since he had made the company a profitable one again. Her father had even hated him for that. Daniel Taggart was a man who had clawed his way up from his poor beginning to the point where he had the millions her father needed to keep his company running, and, according to Max—although Heather was inclined to mistrust the opinion because of his bitterness!—Daniel hadn’t always done it honestly.

  Her father had treated the other man with grudging respect, never losing an opportunity to belittle him or make things uncomfortable for him. A final joke, Daniel called this last vindictiveness, only her father’s idea of a joke was to hurt someone, and this time he had hit out at the two people he most seemed to despise.

  She had been nineteen when she had first met Daniel, and had found him attractive in an austere sort of way. But he had lost no time in letting her know that, at thirteen years his junior, he considered her too immature to even notice. Now, two years later, he was being forced to notice her, to take her as his wife. And his contempt was obvious.

  ‘I’ll cope,’ she rasped. ‘Will you?’

  Grey eyes raked over her critically, and Heather’s breath caught in her throat at the beauty of those eyes; gun-metal grey ringed by black. Daniel was a man who possessed presence rather than surface handsomeness, his face harshly powerful, thick hair as black as her own styled to his ears and collar, dark brows jutting out over those beautiful eyes, his nose long and straight, his mouth a sculptured slash above a strongly square jaw. Tall and powerful, he had all the rugg
ed grace of an athlete. And, as he claimed so derisively, none of the rough edges of his childhood had been smoothed, neither by his wealth nor his success.

  He and her father had been as different as any two men could be, her father a product of the charmingly false society he had lived in all his life, Daniel bluntly honest to the point of rudeness. Of the two she preferred the latter, having been on the receiving end of her father’s charmingly laced barbs too often not to appreciate open hostility when she encountered it.

  ‘With you as my wife?’ Daniel derided scornfully. ‘No doubt I’ll survive.’

  Her gaze didn’t falter as she met his challenge. Survive, would he? She wasn’t sure she would! For years she had been searching for the man whom she could love and one day proudly call husband, and now it seemed she was to have this cold stranger as that very important person in her life. She wasn’t naïve, she knew that not all marriages took place because the couple were in love; she had just never imagined hers would be a marriage of convenience.

  ‘Will you?’ she taunted. ‘Then maybe you could start acting a little as if it isn’t a prison sentence!’

  ‘Oh, I realise that,’ he bit out. ‘I can’t get any time off for good behaviour!’

  He might not think his barbs hurt her, the cool sophisticate, but they did! ‘I doubt that you’ll be good,’ she retorted hardily. ‘I doubt either of us will,’ she hissed with scorn.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘If you think that I’m going to meekly stand by while you flaunt an affair with Wingate, or someone like him—’

  ‘I have no intention of having an affair with Phillip or any other man once we’re married,’ she snapped, her year-long friendship with Phillip over from the moment she had agreed to become Daniel’s wife. She had no doubt that, once she was married to him, Daniel would be quite enough for any woman to cope with in her life! ‘Can you say the same?’

  His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t you think these little problems should have been sorted out before you agreed to marry me and threw this party to tell all your friends? After all, I’m due to make the announcement soon.’

  ‘Your neat avoidance of an answer tells me that you have every intention of continuing to see—Sandra, isn’t her name?’ she said, coldly dismissive.

  His expression darkened. ‘I didn’t avoid giving you an answer. And her name is Cassandra,’ he corrected drily, seeming to know that Heather had been fully aware of his mistress’s name. ‘Are you going to be a wife to me?’

  Heather swallowed hard at the bluntness of the question. ‘We’re to be married in a month—’

  ‘I’m not talking about wearing my ring and calling yourself Mrs Taggart,’ he drawled. ‘I’m talking about being my woman, sharing my bed, giving that delectable body to me—’

  ‘As you said, I think we should have discussed this at some other time.’ She was rigid with embarrassment.

  ‘Too crude for you?’ Daniel arched dark brows. ‘Perhaps I should have asked if we’re going to fully cohabit?’

  Sleep with this man, make love with him? It sounded a little like hell—and heaven! ‘Maybe we shouldn’t make the announcement until we’re both a little more sure of what we want from this relationship—’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Heather,’ his voice was harsh. ‘We want to keep control of Air International, that’s what we want from this relationship!’

  ‘And—er—the other?’ She moistened the dryness of her lips.

  He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘We can sort that out some other time.’ He glanced at his watch, his hands long and powerful. ‘The witching-hour is upon us,’ he drawled drily.

  He hated the thought of this marriage, and she couldn’t blame him, hating it herself; but what choice did either of them have?

  She stood back and watched him as he moved away from this position for the first time during the evening, silencing the small band that played at the other end of the room, taking over the microphone as all the guests gave him their full attention.

  Her palms felt damp, her legs shaky, a sense of panic making her want to run, and keep on running. And then Daniel began to speak, and a sudden feeling of calm assailed her, completely in control again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ his voice was warm and smooth, infused with a friendliness Heather knew he was far from feeling towards the people who had mainly been friends of her father’s, ‘my fiancée, Heather Danvers.’ He held out his hand for her to join him as everyone began to clap, almost everybody in the room having already known of the reason for the party. And those that didn’t hid their surprise behind a polite show of enthusiasm.

  Heather didn’t doubt she and Daniel would provide after-dinner conversation for weeks to come. The full contents of her father’s will had been kept within the privacy of the family circle and most of the people here assumed this to be a love-match. Unlikely as that might seem between the two of them, Heather preferred that to everyone thinking they were marrying for purely mercenary reasons!

  She reached Daniel’s side in a flurry of congratulations, her hand taken firmly in his as family and friends gathered around to ply them both with questions. When was the wedding? Where were they going on their honeymoon? Where were they going to live after the wedding?

  She glanced at Daniel at the last. It was another one of those questions they had never got around to asking each other. There had been so much else to do over the last six months, and then this party to arrange when they decided the only thing they could do was marry, that the details just hadn’t been worked out. She realised now that perhaps they should have been.

  Where would they live once they were married? This house had been left as another part of her inheritance, had been her home all her life, but Daniel never seemed to be comfortable when he was here, and she couldn’t see him wanting to set up home here for any reason. If the truth were known, she would rather sell the place, too, and make a fresh start away from all the memories.

  ‘Details, details,’ her uncle Lionel dismissed laughingly. ‘I propose we drink a toast to the happy couple.’

  Heather gave him a grateful smile. Her father’s younger brother, he had never shown her anything but kindness, and she didn’t know what she would have done without him during the last six months. He had been her father’s assistant from the time Max first began the airline, had been happy to continue helping Daniel in the same way, and had also helped Heather with all the arrangements after her father’s death. In fact, over the years, she had felt closer to Uncle Lionel than to the man she called Father!

  ‘Heather and Daniel!’ He beamed at them both once everyone had a glass of champagne in their hand.

  Heather smiled awkwardly as the toast was drunk in their honour, pointedly keeping her face averted from the brief glimpse she had had of Daniel’s sardonic expression. But she had to agree with the thought she knew was going through his mind; anyone who could believe the two of them were marrying because they loved each other was either blind or a complete romantic. And she doubted many of the people here tonight were the latter, although their complete self-interest often made them the former!

  She received a jolt as she looked sceptically at their guests and found Phillip glowering at the two of them. He looked as if he hated her at that moment!

  She couldn’t exactly blame him for being angry with her, they had been seeing each other on a regular basis for almost a year, and then a month ago she had had to tell him of her decision to marry Daniel. One of Air International’s youngest executives, Phillip hadn’t taken the news well, had accused her of marrying the man with the most money. Perhaps in the circumstances his bitterness had been understandable, but she had genuinely liked him, wouldn’t have continued to see him exclusively for that length of time if she hadn’t, and it had hurt her to give up his friendship.

  Several other guests were looking at him speculatively too, and, with a mocking inclination of his golden head in her direction, he threw the champagne to the back of his throat before slamming
the glass down and walking out.

  Her eyes widened as she looked about her awkwardly to see who else had witnessed his abrupt departure.

  Grey eyes met hers mockingly, and Daniel bent his head as if to nuzzle against her throat. ‘Maybe you should have told your lover about your father’s will,’ he mocked. ‘He seems a trifle put out!’

  She stiffened in his arms, turning slightly as if to kiss the powerful line of his jaw. ‘I suppose Cassandra is quite happy to continue to be your mistress even when you have a wife?’ she taunted.

  He straightened, his mouth taut, his eyes glittering dangerously. ‘You—’

  ‘Speech, Daniel,’ her uncle demanded cheerfully. Lionel was tall and loose-limbed, with hair almost as black as Heather’s, although his was liberally sprinkled with grey in his fifty-fifth year.

  ‘Yes, Daniel,’ drawled Stella, Lionel’s wife of the last five years, twenty years her husband’s junior, beautifully exotic in the clinging red gown that made her hair appear like spun gold. ‘Do tell us all how you and Heather fell in love.’

  Heather felt her cheeks burn under her aunt’s derision. Not that she was allowed to call the other woman Aunt, Stella insisting she was far too young for the title. And Stella knew damn well that she and Daniel hadn’t ‘fallen in love’; as a member of the family she was well aware of the contents of her father’s will.

  Daniel looked at the older woman mockingly.

  * * *

  ‘The same way most couples fall in love,’ he said drily.

  ‘But it was so sudden,’ Stella taunted, her blue eyes maliciously bright.

  He gave an inclination of his head. ‘As sudden as your own marriage to Lionel five years ago!’

  Stella’s face flushed at the challenge: before becoming Lionel’s wife she had been his secretary for several months. Heather had always thought the other woman’s motives slightly mercenary, but Daniel’s challenge was as close as anyone had ever come to saying so outright. And Stella obviously didn’t like to be reminded of her more humble beginnings, having firmly established herself in this society over the last five years.