The Australian's Marriage Demand

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Tuesday came before she wanted it to. With it came the realisation that their privacy would end abruptly as they each took up their responsibilities once more.

  The drive back to town was silent by tacit agreement. Jasmine sat and thought about her work at the clinic and wondered how she’d juggle her new role as Connor’s wife while supporting the needy the way she’d done previously. The hours she worked were unforgiving at times, leaving her worn out both physically and emotionally, and within the context of their sudden marriage she knew she might have to make some adjustments.

  She sneaked a glance his way once or twice but if he was worried about his own adjustments he showed no sign of it. He drove with quiet competence all the way up the freeway and then on to the highway interchange.

  Finally they arrived at his house in Woollahra and once the car had stopped she got out and stretched her legs before he could get to her door.

  He took their bags from the rear of the car as she went to open the front door with the key he’d given her previously.

  Before she could use the key the housekeeper, Maria, opened the door and greeted her in rapid fire broken English. Jasmine caught one or two words that sounded a little like Italian but she wasn’t sure.

  Connor came up behind her and smiled at the older woman. He proceeded to speak in the other woman’s language, which made Jasmine turn her head to stare at him.

  He caught her surprised expression and flashed a quick grin.

  ‘I learnt to speak it when I lived in Sicily for six months.’

  He turned back to the housekeeper and made brief introductions. Jasmine held out her hand and it was taken humbly by the older woman, who said something in her strange, unintelligible dialect.

  Jasmine turned to Connor for an interpretation, her brow clouded with uncertainty.

  ‘Maria speaks a little English but it’s slow and it embarrasses her. I’ll teach you a few phrases to get you through but for the time being just smile and nod your head as if you understand.’

  She turned back to the housekeeper and smiled shyly. Connor said something in Italian and Maria’s face lit up as she scuttled away to do whatever it was he suggested.

  ‘What did you say to her?’ Jasmine looked up at him.

  ‘I told her to have the rest of the day off.’

  ‘Why?’

  His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  ‘Because I want you to myself, that’s why.’

  Her stomach somersaulted as he reached for her, his mouth coming down on hers before she could say a word. He pressed her back against the nearest wall, his hands feeling her breasts through her thin sweater where her heart was leaping towards the warmth of his spread palm.

  He was like a drug in her system. She could never have enough of him and with every kiss her need increased until she was breathless with wanting. She tore at his shirt with needy fingers, wanting the silk of his flesh beneath her fingertips, wanting to shape him intimately from head to foot as he had to her.

  He tore his mouth off hers and, scooping her effortlessly into his arms, carried her up the stairs, shouldering open his bedroom door. Jasmine’s breath was caught somewhere in the back of her throat at the look of masculine intent in his dark eyes.

  He laid her on the bed and finished the task she’d begun of removing his shirt. His trousers were next and then his under shorts. He came towards her, his eyes dark with desire while hers widened in anticipation. His hands went to the waistband of her jeans and she lay back, stretching her arms above her head as he bent his head to her belly button, his tongue dipping into its tiny cave. A whirlpool of shivery sensations spiralled through her as his warm mouth moved lower to seek her feminine folds, separating them delicately, intruding into the dark secrecy of her core with bold strokes, leaving her writhing in exultant ecstasy.

  He moved over her once more, lifting her sweater out of the path of his mouth and hands. She arched her back as his tongue circled her tight nipples in turn, the knife-hot feel of him against her a torture in itself.

  She touched him, shaping him with fingers that trembled in their task. He sucked in his breath as she intensified the movement, lingering over his most sensitive spot until he grabbed at her hand and, holding it above her head, entered her with a harsh grunt of pleasure as her tender form caught and held him tight.

  She was on another journey to paradise as his body stroked hers with deep, pulsing strokes, drawing from her a response she could never withhold even if she’d wanted to for pride’s sake. Her cries of release were beyond suppressing as they leapt from her throat in high, gasping sounds that, when over, left her breathless and spent in his embrace.

  Connor timed his own release, leaving it until she was supine in his arms before letting himself fall towards oblivion in deep throbbing waves that shook him to the core of his being.

  He lay listening to the soft sound of Jasmine’s breathing and wondered why it had taken him till now to finally realise he loved her. He’d kidded himself he desired her just as he’d desired many women in the past, but who was he fooling now? Her heart was beating against his, her body was curled into him and her feminine scent was like a drug he had to breathe in just to survive.

  She shifted in his arms, her chin burrowing into his chest as she searched for warmth.

  He trickled his fingers through the silky curtain of hair and speculated on what she’d say if he woke her to tell her. But then he remembered there were other things she needed to know and, besides, he didn’t want to be the one to burst her bubble. But he was going to make damn sure he was there to help her pick up the pieces.

  When Jasmine arrived at the clinic the next morning she was a little unprepared for the intrusive interest her sudden marriage had stirred amongst the other staff and even some of the clients. She spent most of the morning fielding questions with as much tact as she could manage but towards the end of the afternoon she was getting to the point of screaming. It wasn’t hard to pretend she was in love, for she was; it was more because every time she thought about Connor she was assailed by a sinking feeling of hopelessness as she recalled his motivations for marrying her. He’d married her to secure his late mother’s estate—nothing more, nothing less. It was about money, not his feelings.

  She had only been home a few minutes when the telephone rang.

  ‘Jasmine! You sly old thing!’ her sister Sam exclaimed. ‘I couldn’t believe it when Mum told me you and Connor were married!’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s been rather a shock to most people.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t like him?’ Sam said.

  ‘I don’t—didn’t,’ she said. ‘But things are different now.’

  ‘Love is like that,’ Sam rattled on happily. ‘I didn’t like Finn the first time I saw him either but one kiss and that was it—whammo! Love, lust and—’

  ‘How was the honeymoon?’ Jasmine cut across her sister’s intimate revelation.

  ‘Great.’ Sam’s tone was instantly dreamy. ‘Everything I could have wished for, in fact.’

  ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘I guess Connor didn’t have much time to organise a honeymoon?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s a great guy, Jasmine. I’m sure you’ll be very happy.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re not still upset with Mum and Dad, are you?’

  ‘Why should I be upset?’

  ‘I heard they were pretty strong on the idea of marriage, given you’d been found in his bed.’

  ‘There was a certain amount of pressure, yes.’

  Sam giggled.

  ‘I think it’s terribly romantic, don’t you? The outraged parents insisting on the poor man making an honest woman out of you, just like in one of those Victorian dramas.’

  ‘Yes, it was very romantic.’

  ‘You shouldn’t take too much notice of what Mum and Dad think about him,’ Sam advised. ‘He’s not the man he’s been made out to be, if you know what I mean.’

  �
��I know exactly what you mean.’

  ‘I thought you would. I mean, he hasn’t had it all that easy with his mother dying so young and no father and so on. He was left with nothing, not a penny. He had to depend on the charity of Julian and Harriet until he could make his own fortune, which he did rather spectacularly. He’s incredibly wealthy now.’

  Jasmine frowned as she took in her sister’s words.

  ‘But I thought his mother left an estate?’

  ‘No, Finn told me about it just recently. He’d overheard his parents discussing it. Anyway, even if there was money, Harriet would’ve spent it by now. Did you see the outfit she wore to the wedding? Finn told me how much it cost. Phew! I couldn’t believe it when I heard.’

  Jasmine needed time to think.

  ‘Sam, I have to go. I’ve left something on the stove.’

  ‘Call me soon,’ Sam said cheerily. ‘I want to show you the wedding photographs. There’s a great one of you looking daggers at Connor at the reception. It will be great to show your children one day.’

  Jasmine replaced the receiver once Sam had trilled her last goodbye and sat heavily on the nearest sofa, her hands shaking as she clasped them in her lap.

  He’d lied to her. He’d expressly told her he needed to be married to access his mother’s money. He’d tricked her into a loveless, pointless marriage. How had she fallen so neatly in with his plans? She felt like kicking herself for her own blind stupidity. He’d seized the opportunity when her parents had applied a bit of pressure, concocting his own tale of woe to draw her in. She’d fallen for it so gullibly. It made her sick to think of how easy it had been for him to get her to do what he had wanted. How he must be laughing at her behind her back. He couldn’t have chosen a better victim. Who better than a high profile young woman such as herself, with a tainted reputation to match—a Bishop’s wayward daughter, who had already caused one man’s career to tumble. She’d been an easy target for his ruthless machinations, and to add to his victory she’d foolishly fallen in love with him. She’d even allowed him to make love to her, filling her head with stupid, empty dreams of happy-ever-afters that could never be.

  Connor turned his key in the lock whilst balancing his briefcase under his other arm. His temples were tight with a tension headache which had grown steadily worse as the day had progressed.

  He’d met his stepfather that morning to discuss accessing his mother’s estate, handing Julian his marriage certificate with an element of pride. His stepfather, however, had dismissed him with a wave of one hand.

  ‘You surely don’t think there’s any of your mother’s money left after all this time, do you?’ Julian looked at him from beneath his grey bushy brows.

  Connor felt himself stiffen.

  ‘She left it to me,’ he said. ‘I’m here to collect it.’

  Julian shuffled some papers on his desk, something in his manner suggesting he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the discussion.

  ‘I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the costs in raising a child,’ he said. ‘And since you were expelled from several schools the fees we had to pay for the Academy had to be met somehow.’

  Connor’s frown deepened.

  ‘You mean there’s nothing left?’

  ‘Your mother wanted you to have a good education,’ Julian said. ‘I felt I owed it to her to ensure you got one even though you were hell-bent on sabotaging it at every opportunity.’

  Connor had left his stepfather’s rooms in an anger induced daze. He didn’t trust Julian’s explanation but knew that unless he was prepared to take him on in a court case he had no guarantee of winning he had no choice but to accept it as a lesson well learnt.

  The only trouble was that his primary reason for marrying Jasmine no longer existed. And if she were to ever find out…

  He closed the door behind him and, tossing his keys to the hall table, ran a hand through his hair, squinting against the pain across his forehead.

  ‘Good day at the office?’ Jasmine’s tone was cool as she stepped out from the shadow of the sitting room doorway.

  ‘Oh, hello, Jasmine.’ He winced as his head gave another sickening pound. ‘You would not believe the day I’ve had.’ He shrugged himself out of his coat and flung it towards the hall stand with another flinch of pain.

  ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t.’

  His eyes went to hers. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘What could possibly be wrong?’ She held his narrowed-eyed look.

  He ran a hand across his eyes and sighed.

  ‘I have the most appalling headache.’

  ‘Poor you.’

  He hunted her face for the sincerity he’d sensed had been lacking in her tone.

  ‘Has someone upset you?’ he asked after a tiny pause.

  ‘Who would do such a thing?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know; your parents, perhaps?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to my parents since the wedding.’

  ‘Who have you been talking to?’

  ‘No one you’d be interested in.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Why don’t you tell me and I’ll be the judge?’

  ‘I was talking to my sister.’

  ‘Sam?’

  She gave a single nod.

  ‘Finn called me too. Seems they had a great time,’ he said, leading the way into the kitchen.

  She stood silently watching him as he took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. He pressed two pain-killers from a foil strip and tossed back his head to swallow them.

  ‘God, I feel like a construction team has started up inside my head,’ he said, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

  ‘My heart bleeds.’

  He frowned, then leant his hips back against the bench and looked at her closely.

  ‘At the risk of repeating myself, are you all right?’

  She lifted her chin a fraction. ‘You seem very determined that something must be wrong. Why, Connor? Is your conscience pricking you?’

  His eyes fell away from hers as he put the glass down.

  ‘I’m not sure what you’re talking about but no doubt you’re going to enlighten me.’

  She drew in an angry breath. ‘Why did you lie to me?’

  ‘About what?’ His eyes came back to hers, but this time she noted they were clouded with wariness.

  ‘Lots of things, but the one that immediately springs to mind is the true nature of your financial affairs.’

  There was a pulsing silence.

  ‘You lied to me about your mother’s estate, didn’t you?’ She glared at him furiously.

  He didn’t answer but she could see the flare of guilt in his dark eyes.

  ‘You told me you needed to get married to access your late mother’s estate.’

  ‘I know what I said.’

  ‘There is no estate, is there, Connor?’

  He drew in a breath. ‘Not any more.’

  ‘There never was!’ She threw the words at him. ‘You lied to me to make me do what you wanted. I should have seen it from the start but I was fool enough to fall…to fall for it,’ she tacked on quickly.

  ‘Jasmine, you’re jumping to the sort of conclusions you’re very likely to regret when I explain—’

  ‘I don’t want your explanations or your bare-faced lies! I don’t want anything from you but the truth, but you can’t do that, can you? You wouldn’t know how to tell the truth if it were tattooed on your tongue!’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Connor slammed his fist against the bench in frustration. ‘Will you let me tell you my side of this?’

  ‘Do you think I even care what story you’re busily rehearsing in your head?’

  ‘I’m not rehearsing anything.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I intended telling you eventually, but I only found out about it—’

  ’Eventually?’ She threw him a fulminating look. ‘You should have told me before I was stupid enough to sign my name on that mar
riage certificate!’

  He needed time to think.

  Her anger was justified, he knew, but he wanted to be in a better frame of mind than he currently was before he explained.

  He garnered his pride with an effort and glared back at her. ‘What is this? I come home with a fierce headache to this!’

  ‘You shouldn’t have come home at all,’ she said bitterly. ‘You should have gone to your latest lover’s waiting arms instead.’

  His eyes flashed with some indefinable emotion.

  ‘Well, then.’ His voice was a harsh scratch of sound in his throat. ‘Maybe that’s exactly what I will do.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JASMINE stared after his stiff back when Connor strode from the room, flinching as the woodwork protested as he slammed the door behind him. If a confession was what she was after she was sure she’d just received it; she’d never seen someone so guilty in all her life.

  He didn’t come home that night or the night after. Jasmine carried on as if nothing was the matter, mostly for appearance’s sake, under the watchful, silent gaze of Maria the housekeeper.

  She filled her days at the clinic, working a double shift to keep from facing the aching emptiness of Connor’s house. She tortured herself with images of him with someone else— a tall, leggy blonde with a figure to die for, or a raven-haired temptress with smouldering eyes.

  On the evening of the third day she’d had enough. She called the clinic and told them she needed some time off and, quickly packing a bag, made her way to the garage where the second of Connor’s cars was parked.

  The drive to the south coast was lengthened by the snarl of traffic at the start of the freeway due to an accident. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as she waited for the tow truck to clear the debris.

  The old house was cold and dark, its shadowy verandas like heavy brows over sightless eyes.

  She unlocked the door and after carrying her few things in shut it behind her, breathing in the empty silence.

  She turned on one small light, somehow content with the creeping darkness. She struck a match to the fire Connor had left laid ready in the fireplace and waited for its warmth to seep into the stiff coldness of her bones.