‘You!’ he’d exclaimed. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded furiously. His dark eyes took in the rumpled bedclothes and Josie’s obvious naked state beneath the sheet she had wrapped clumsily around her.
She looked at him and groaned. It was the man from the church fête. That was all she needed—a sophisticated stranger witnessing her downfall. She did not stop to answer him but, frantically scrambling around on the floor for her clothes, picked them up and made to dash for the bathroom.
Her wrist was caught and held, and he pulled her to a stop. ‘Not so fast. I think you owe me an explanation. After all, it isn’t every night a man walks into his room and finds a young girl obviously, well...’ His dark eyes narrowed, his firm mouth twisting in a knowing sneer. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you.’ His contemptuous gaze skimmed her from head to foot, lingering on the soft curves of her breasts and then back to her bright red face.
‘Your room?’ she cried ‘Don’t be ridiculous; this is Charles Zarcourt’s bedroom! Who on earth do you think you are?’ she demanded, her fear giving way to anger. She felt as if she was in a nightmare, and any minute she would wake up. And this very large, very hunky guy was doing nothing for her peace of mind.
‘Charles didn’t tell you. That doesn’t surprise me.’ And, bowing his head slightly, he added, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. Conan Zarcourt, half-brother to Charles, at your service.’ By the cynical gleam in his eye she knew he was relishing her discomfort. ‘And you are?’ One dark brow arched enquiringly, and he waited...
‘Josie—Josie Jamieson.’ Why was she even talking to him? she asked herself a second later. Talk about being caught flagrante delicto, she thought with a grim smile. She had never been so humiliated or felt so small in her life. But she was not about to show it.
‘Well, Josie Jamieson, I am waiting for your explanation—or perhaps I should ask Charles...?’
‘Charles and I are engaged to be married actually; not that it is any concern of yours,’ she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes. ‘It is perfectly normal for engaged couples...’ She trailed off, stunned by the thunderous expression on his darkly handsome face.
‘But why here? Why now? Why in my bed? I want some answers and you are going to give me them,’ he demanded arrogantly.
Was it really his room? She was confused; Charles had said it was his—but she was not going to tell this man that So instead she said, ‘So what if we did use your room! You weren’t using it.’
‘But I am now, little lady, and I know my half-brother never misses a trick where I am concerned,’ he said dryly. ‘But what about this engagement? You can’t seriously be intending to marry Charles. How old are you? Eighteen, nineteen?’
‘Twenty,’ Josie said indignantly. Her height and youthful looks were the bane of her life.
‘My God! Have you any idea how old he is? Almost forty. He could be your father,’ he said scathingly.
‘Charles loves me and we are going to be married. Age doesn’t matter when you’re in love.’ Josie mouthed the clichéd words, not really believing them herself. But, dragging her wrist free from Conan’s grip, she made a dash for the bathroom. Something caught the sheet that was covering her, and she froze for a second stark naked, her eyes fixed on the elegantly dressed man in the three-piece suit. The contrast couldn’t have been more startling. Gulping hard, she ran...
‘Very nice.’ Conan’s deep voice followed her as she continued her headlong flight across the room, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.
Calling herself every kind of fool, she pulled her clothes back on, tidied herself up, all the time wondering why Charles had not introduced her to his half-brother at the church fête. It had never entered her head that they might be related—one so fair and the other so dark. She had thought the dark man looked good but had dismissed him from her mind as a stranger passing through the village.
‘Conan Zarcourt.’ She said the name softly. It suited him. She hoped it also suited him to have done a vanishing act. She could not hide in the bathroom much longer.
Eventually she walked back into the bedroom, praying Conan would have left. But no such luck.
He had changed from the suit he had arrived in, into a white tee shirt that revealed his strong, tanned arms, dusted with soft black hair, and well-worn blue jeans that hung low on his hips. The zip was fastened but the top snap was undone and gaping.
Josie swallowed hard, and bit down the disloyal thought that he looked a whole lot better than Charles.
‘Are you okay?’ he demanded, roughly pushing the shirt into his jeans and snapping the fastener. ‘I’ve seen the bed. Your first time...if that bas—’
‘Well, well, this is cosy,’ a voice smoothly interrupted. ‘I see you have met my half-brother Conan, Josie, sorry I took so long.’ He held a bottle in his hand.
Josie turned at the sound of Charles’s voice and quickly crossed the room to join him at the door. Charles slipped an arm around her waist and pressed a wet kiss on her lips that made her want to wipe her mouth.
‘Well, Charles, I gather congratulations are in order. Josie has just told me of your engagement. When is the wedding to be?’ Conan asked silkily.
‘What did you tell him that for?’ Charles demanded angrily of Josie.
‘Don’t blame the child,’ Conan drawled. ‘I forced it out of her. You know me, Charles, I always find out in the end, and I’m sure you really wanted me to know.’ Fixing Charles with a glacial glance, he added, ‘There’s no need for embarrassment We’re all family, as you are so keen to remind me every quarter, and Father will be delighted. His eldest son finally getting married.’
Josie was struck dumb as Charles agreed... She didn’t understand why he hadn’t simply denied they were engaged. She hadn’t actually believed Charles’s offer of marriage was genuine; she had simply been carried away by the romance of it all—he a soldier off to war, and, more realistically, the drink.
But before anyone could object Conan was leading them downstairs and into the study where he seemed to take a devilish delight in prompting Charles into telling his father that he and Josie were unofficially engaged.
The Major was delighted. Charles appeared equally pleased, and Josie was simply confused. So much so that when Conan insisted on driving her home because Charles was over the limit she made no objection. Her last glimpse of Charles was his blond head bent over a tall, red-headed woman, their arms wrapped around each other. Josie had been introduced to her earlier. She was the wife of Charles’s commanding officer.
Josie sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the car, suddenly stone-cold sober. How on earth had she got herself in such a mess? She shot a fulminating glance at the arrogant male at her side. It was all his fault; if he hadn’t caught her in his bed and goaded her into saying she was engaged to Charles, she could have put the events of tonight down to experience and tried to forget. But she’d no doubt the Major would tell her father, and she was going to have great trouble explaining her behaviour.
‘Your home, I believe,’ Conan said coolly as he halted the car outside the door of Low Beeches farmhouse.
Josie hastily unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door handle. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.
‘Wait!’ The command was curt, and, leaning forward, Conan caught her hand in his much larger one and turned her back to face him.
‘What for? I think you’ve done enough for one night.’ She was exhausted, sore and fed up, and when his hand moved to her bare arm she flinched, her skin burning where he’d touched.
‘Not so fast. After all, we are soon to be related; surely I merit a brotherly kiss?’
Before she knew what he intended Conan had slipped an arm around her waist and hauled her across his lap. His other hand tangled in her silky black curls, holding her face up to his. She was trapped, her high round breasts crushed against the massive bulk of his chest, and her violet eyes widened in astonishment as his dark head bent and his lips
covered hers.
He tasted slightly of mint, his mouth firm but undemanding. Then suddenly he was kissing her with a deeply sensual passion that lit an answering response in her young body. Josie was too astounded by his audacity to do anything other than submit to the expert demand of his mouth. Her body grew soft and pliant against him, his arm tightened around her for an instant, then suddenly she was back in her seat, but too dazed to do anything but stare up at him.
‘That was just a sample to compare with, Josie,’ And, slipping out of the car, he walked around to the passenger side and helped her out. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry to marry. You don’t have to marry the first man you have sex with.’
‘How...?’
‘Never mind, but remember there are plenty more fish in the sea. Take it from me, you have no chance of a happy-ever-after with Charles.’ And he left her standing on the doorstep.
Josie watched him drive off, wishing she had slapped his face or something.
Remembering that night now, Josie sighed heavily. Conan was wrong, she thought wearily as the grey light of dawn glinted through her bedroom window; there were not plenty more fish in the sea, not for her. She was pregnant and destined to be an unmarried mother, and for the first time since discovering the fact she realised she did not mind. The thought of a child of her own to love was somehow comforting, and finally she drifted off to sleep.
Josie yawned and opened her eyes. ‘Daddy,’ she murmured, the word little more than a croak. Her throat felt dry and rough. He was sitting in the chair by her bed.
‘You’re awake, Josephine. How do you feel?’ he asked quietly, his tired eyes fixed sadly on her small pale face.
‘I‘m fine,’ she smiled. Her father was the only person to call her Josephine. Then, like a shutter falling, the smile was wiped from her face, as the memory of yesterday returned to haunt her. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, the mundane question masking her very real distress.
‘About ten-thirty.’
‘Oh, my word! I’m late for work!’ she exclaimed.
‘No. I have already called your office, and told them you were suffering from a severe migraine.’
‘But I never get migraine.’
‘Oh, Josephine! What does it matter?’ Her father sighed and rose from the chair to sit on the side of the bed. He took her hand in his. ‘I am so sorry. I know how hard it must be for you, losing Charles so tragically. I remember how I felt when your mother died. This is all my fault. I feel so guilty. I’ve let you down—and your mother, God rest her soul! If I’d been a better father, given you the guidance and support you needed, this would never have happened.’
Her father’s halting speech made Josie feel worse. She studied his shadowed face in the morning light. Poor Daddy—she had failed him so badly. He’d been so pleased when he’d thought she was going to marry Charles, and she’d not had the nerve to tell him of her own doubt, and now she didn’t need to. But she could see the strain etched into the multitude of lines on his much loved face, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him blaming himself. The tears welled in her eyes. ‘Oh, Daddy,’ she whispered, and one tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Hush, Josephine; don’t cry.’ he soothed, wiping her cheek with a large white handkerchief. ‘We’ll work something out.‘
‘I hope so,’ she murmured. The tears were more for her father than herself; she knew deep down she would manage. But her father was an old-fashioned gentleman, who still considered an unmarried mother a disgrace.
‘Trust me, Josephine. Everything will be fine. Take your time, wash your face, get dressed, and then come downstairs. Conan Zarcourt is here and would like to talk to you—about the funeral arrangements I suppose.’ With a brief, reassuring squeeze of her hand, he left.
Conan! What did he want? He was a decisive, dynamic man, and she could not imagine why he would want to discuss the funeral with her. Just the thought of the man made her hackles rise. But it also gave her the incentive to get out of bed. She washed and quickly dressed in a pair of grey cords and a black skinny-ribbed jumper. It somehow seemed appropriate; Charles had been her unofficial fiancé. even if she had decided not to marry him, her conscience reminded her. She brushed her hair, and with her face free of make-up she slipped her feet into a pair of mules, and went downstairs. Better to face Conan sooner rather than later...
CHAPTER TWO
SHE stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The hall was square and small, with a door leading off either side, one to the dining room, the other to the sitting room, and to the back of the hall was the kitchen. It was a typical double-fronted stone-built farmhouse from the last century, with low oak-beamed ceilings and walls a foot thick. She guessed Conan would be in the sitting room, and, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she opened the door and walked in.
‘Josie! How are you today?’ Conan’s dark eyes swept over her, lingering a fraction too long to be innocent on the proud thrust of her breasts revealed by the clinging knit sweater.
His conventional polite greeting didn’t fool Josie for a moment; she doubted very much he was here simply to offer condolences. He had never approved of her relationship with Charles, and the Conans of this world did not waste their valuable time on young girls they didn’t like, unless the Major had sent him. But then she couldn’t see this man doing anyone’s bidding.
He was standing in the middle of the room, his broad-shouldered frame clad in a soft black wool roll-neck sweater and hip-hugging black jeans. The colour, while suitable for a man in mourning for his half-brother, only served to reinforce his innate powerful sexuality. A shiver of not fear but something more basic made the fine hair on her skin stand erect.
‘Very well, thank you,’ she replied stiltedly, fighting against her peculiar reaction to this man. Then, seeing the cynical twist of his hard mouth, she realised how callous she must sound.
‘Well, obliviously not well,’ she corrected, ‘I mean, Charles is dead, and I...well...’ She was babbling, but did not seem able to stop. ‘The funeral. You want to discuss...’
‘Hush. I understand.’ He stepped towards her. Josie tried to step back, his height intimidating her, but she was brought up hard against the closed door.
Conan noted her reaction. His hard mouth twisted faintly and then he turned and strolled across to the nearest armchair and lowered himself down onto the seat. He glanced back at her and gestured with one large hand to the sofa opposite. ‘Please, Josie, come and sit down; you have nothing to fear from me. I simply want to talk.’
Warily she looked at him; her violet eyes met his bland gaze and she was somewhat reassured.
‘The funeral apart, I have something else to discuss with you on behalf of the Major and myself, and it will be in your own best interests to listen.’
She straightened her shoulders and walked across to sit down on the sofa. ‘I can’t imagine us having anything to discuss, but I’m listening,’ she said flatly.
‘I know this will be hard for you so soon after hearing of the death of Charles, but I have spoken to my father, and we agreed. Under the circumstances the best solution is that you and I get married as soon as possible.’
At the mention of marriage her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened in shock and looked on the man lounging in her father’s armchair, his long legs stretched out before him in nonchalant ease. How did he do it? He looked so cool, so sophisticated, as though he were discussing the weather—instead of asking an almost complete stranger to marry him.
‘Marry you! You must be mad!’ she exclaimed. She could not believe what she was hearing. Was he joking or what? Surely he could not be that cruel. But his dark eyes trapped and held her own, and she knew he was deadly serious.
‘Mad, no; practical, yes.’ he drawled hardily.
She lowered her head, avoiding the determination in his eyes. Her gaze skated over his long body. He was all male and somehow threatening. What did he mean? Why on earth would he want to marry her?
‘Why?’ S
he was surprised to hear herself ask that. She should have said no and immediately corrected her mistake. ‘No. Definitely not. Charles was the—’ She got no further as Conan cut in.
‘I know Charles was the man you loved.’ Actually she’d been going to say he was the father of her unborn child, but she did not correct his assumption as he continued. ‘But we have to think of the living, not the dead. You are to have a child. A Zarcourt. Surely you must realise that when you blurted out that you were pregnant in front of my father you lost any chance you had of doing anything about your pregnancy?’ he prompted cynically.
‘Doing anything about it?’ she queried.
Conan shook his dark head. ‘I mean an abortion; after all, you can’t be more than a few weeks pregnant.’
‘Six to be exact,’ she fumed. ‘And if the Major wants me to have an abortion he can go jump.’ The thought had crossed her mind when she’d first discovered her condition, but it hadn’t taken a split second for her to dismiss the notion entirely. She could never do such a thing.
‘Much as I would like to see my father take a hike—’ his lips twitched with amusement ‘—you misunderstood me. Quite the reverse is true. My father wants the child, and he usually gets what he wants, as you’re about to find out. His grief at his eldest son’s death is only made bearable by the fact you’re carrying his child. There is no way he will allow his grandchild to be born a bastard,’ he opined, adding cynically, ‘Especially not darling Charles’s offspring.’
Josie was stunned by his words, but, knowing the Major, she could see the truth in his comment. But what she couldn’t understand was why he would agree with his father. It was obvious, even from her brief acquaintance with Conan, that there was no love lost between him and his father. This summer had been the first time Josie had ever seen him. He obviously had very little to do with his family.
A Husband of Convenience Page 2
