Convenient Brides

by Catherine Spencer

  Damien gave her a sweeping glance, his eyes still reluc-tant to mesh with hers. ‘I’ve certainly no need to ask you the same question,’ he said. ‘My back feels as if I’ve been on a rack, not to mention that gnaw you gave my shoulder.’

  ‘Well, you know the saying.’ She reached for the cereal bowl she had discarded earlier and picked up her spoon. ‘If you can’t stand the heat—get out of the kitchen.’

  Damien frowned at her as he tucked in his shirt.

  ‘Have a good day at the office,’ she added, and opened her mouth over her spoon.

  He picked up his tie off the floor, where she’d tossed it earlier, and draped it loosely around his neck. This wasn’t how he’d planned things. Emily was up to something, he was sure. Somehow she’d switched the tables on him—quite literally, he thought, with a wry glance towards the table they’d just christened.

  ‘I’ll call you later.’ He scooped up his jacket and made his way to the bathroom.

  She heard him leave the house a few minutes later. The sound of his car roaring out of the driveway triggered a deep sigh in her chest as she contemplated spending the rest of the day alone.

  Emily used the morning to explore Damien’s house, her ears constantly pricked in case he was to return unannounced. She moved from room to room and from floor to floor to familiarise herself with her new surroundings, each room offering a clue to the mysterious man she’d married. It was a beautiful house, but it was definitely not a home. It didn’t even feel particularly lived-in. Some of the rooms were stale from being unused for so long, so she opened window after window as she went through each room, stopping to rearrange the stiff cushions on the velvet sofas in the formal lounge to make them a little more welcoming.

  Damien’s bedroom she left well alone. As she skirted past a pool of heat trickled into her belly at the remem-brance of their passionate union this morning.

  Her previous experience of sex had been somewhat limited. Her first had been little more than a teenage fumble that had been embarrassingly interrupted by the boy’s parents returning home. The second had been Raife Norton-Floyd, who’d claimed to love her but had already been married. The irony of her situation made her smile ruefully. Damien claimed he didn’t care for her at all, and yet had married her within days of asking her. Who could make sense of men?

  The garden was an outside version of the interior of the house. It, too, was beautiful in its way, but unwelcoming with its array of neatly landscaped plants that offered a green screen from the nearest neighbours but very little in the way of blossom and fragrance.

  Emily sat on the sun-lounger near the pool and dangled her toes in the cool water, watching as the ripples travelled outwards in ever-widening circles. Just like her life, she reflected. The circles of her life were moving further and further beyond her control, at least ever since Damien had entered her life so forcefully.

  She was a married woman, in every sense of the word. She was finally free from her crippling financial burden but shackles of a different kind had settled about her, holding her in Damien’s controlling hands.

  She found it difficult to unravel her feelings about him. Sometimes she thought she hated him; other times she found herself thinking about him, his darkly handsome fea-tures filling her head until there was no room for her own thoughts. She pictured his smiling mouth when she flew back at him with some witticism, and she could recall the warmth and comfort of his arms around her when she’d hurt her hand and he’d gathered her close. She didn’t understand him, couldn’t imagine why he’d acted the way he had in marrying her. But then she thought about the very deep and loyal love he obviously felt for Rose, stopping at nothing to protect her. If only someone, some day, would love her like that!

  Emily went back into the house and fetched her purse and the set of keys Damien had given her. She walked towards the cafés and shops, stopping to buy huge bunches of flowers as well as the latest bestseller—unfortunately not her own. She grimaced ruefully as she handed over the money.

  Some time later she stepped back and inspected her floral handiwork. ‘Mmm, that’s much better.’

  She had planted spilling blossoms in each of the formal rooms, their sweet fragrance soon wafting through the long corridors.

  She selected a classical choral collection CD from the state-of-the-art hi-fi console and, turning up the volume, listened as the ethereal sound filled the empty house with beatific strains that sounded as if they were coming down from heaven. She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, standing in the centre of the huge sitting room to let the magic of the perfect blend of young male voices seep into her very bones.

  She didn’t hear Damien’s car return. Nor did she hear him enter the house. It was only when he entered the room that she sensed his presence. She swung around, her eyes springing open, her cheeks flaming.

  ‘I…I was just listening to some music,’ she gabbled in embarrassment.

  ‘You and most of the neighbourhood, it seems,’ he observed drily as he turned the volume down several notches with the remote control.

  ‘I like it loud,’ she defended.

  ‘You can turn it up later, when you start yelling at me. But for now I want to talk to you.’

  ‘I don’t yell.’

  ‘Don’t speak too soon. We’ve only been married twenty-four hours.’

  Emily turned away to pick up another CD, effectively dismissing him.

  ‘Emily, look at me.’

  She rolled her eyes and faced him. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I can sense you don’t wish to discuss what happened between us this morning, but discuss it we must.’

  ‘What’s to discuss? It was just sex.’

  ‘Such jaded cynicism in one so young astounds me. Nevertheless, even people who have “just sex” must take full responsibility for having done so.’

  ‘And your point is?’ She arched one brow pertly, her pose insolent.

  ‘Are you on the Pill?’

  She couldn’t hold his gaze, and instead turned to retrieve one of the fallen petals from the flowers she’d arranged on the walnut sideboard.

  ‘Of course I’m on the Pill,’ she snapped. ‘And I haven’t got any nasty diseases so you can breathe easy.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. However, this isn’t just about you—it’s about me. It was wrong of me not to protect you this morning. I was a little unprepared.’

  She did glance up at him at that.

  ‘Shall I distribute condoms in each of the rooms just in case it happens again?’ she asked.

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ he stated implacably. ‘It must not happen again. Is that clear?’

  ‘So it’s all my fault now? How typically male! Just because you can’t control your own lust you conveniently throw it all back on me.’

  ‘You were extremely provocative—’

  ‘I was wearing a fluffy tracksuit, for God’s sake!’ Her voice rose in anger.

  ‘You’d look sexy in a garbage bag!’ he shouted.

  ‘You’d better turn the music back on,’ she threw back. ‘You’re shouting.’

  ‘I’m not—’ He ground his teeth and lowered his voice. ‘You are so damned annoying you’d make a mute person shout. I came home early to apologise—’

  ‘You came home to get yourself off the hook,’ she fired back. ‘Don’t worry—there’ll be no paternity suit from me. I wouldn’t dream of being so irresponsible as to contribute to the replication of your likeness.’

  ‘As I said on a previous occasion—you have a charming way with words.’

  ‘Yeah? Well, so do you.’ She turned away and plucked at the petals in her hand.

  ‘What are all the flowers for?’ he asked suddenly, noticing what she was doing. ‘Who died?’

  ‘This place is like a mausoleum. I thought it needed a little softening.’

  ‘You’re probably right. I don’t spend much time at home. I hadn’t noticed.’

  There was a lengthy silence. Emily scrunc
hed the petals to a mush in her hand and waited for him to continue the conversation.

  ‘I thought we could go out for a meal this evening,’ he said at last.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Come now, Emily,’ he chided. ‘Humour me. I hate eating out alone and there’s a great Thai restaurant a few blocks from here.’

  She felt herself wavering. What harm could it do to spend an evening with him? It wasn’t as if she had anything to lose. In fact, she stood to gain. What if he unknowingly revealed some information about Rose? What if she were actually to find out where she was living?

  She joined him downstairs twenty minutes later, dressed in a black close-fitting top and silvery-grey slim-fitting trousers that clung lovingly to her toned thighs only to swing away at her ankles in shimmering folds. She’d left her honey-brown hair to fall about her shoulders, its soft curls framing her face.

  ‘I’m all out of garbage bags,’ she quipped as his eyes ran over her.

  He chuckled. ‘Come on, you minx. I must have had rocks in my head to get mixed up with you.’

  She didn’t respond. She was still trying to figure out her own motivations for tying herself to him. She was living in his house and bearing his name while the research notes of her book lay untouched. None of it made sense. Least of all her own treacherous heart.

  Chapter Seven

  THE restaurant was busy but the head waiter quickly bustled across to escort them to a quiet table in the corner. Once they were seated with a chilled glass of Chardonnay in front of them Emily started to feel her shoulders relax a little. She sipped at her wine and examined the menu, all the while conscious of the strongly muscled legs occasionally touching hers under the narrow table.

  ‘What do you fancy?’

  Emily blinked up at him, her eyes wide.

  ‘Do you like it hot or—’

  ‘Oh!’ She coloured delicately, a vision of their passionately joined bodies flashing through her brain. ‘I thought you were talking about something else. Sorry—yes, I don’t mind—anything will do.’

  ‘Are you as easy-going with your choice of men as you are with your food?’ he asked.

  ‘Apparently,’ she said, taking another hefty sip of her wine.

  He waited until the waiter had taken their order before he spoke. ‘You have a very sharp wit, Emily, but eventually it will cause you a great deal of trouble.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you were into prophecy,’ she retorted. ‘I thought finance was your thing.’

  ‘How many men have you had?’ His question was abruptly delivered. She picked up her glass and eyeballed him questioningly over the rim.

  ‘Slept with. Had sex with,’ he clarified at her quirked brow.

  She pretended to be making some sort of mental tally as she twirled the glass in her hands. Then, after a pause, she shook her head.

  ‘Sorry, can’t quite remember. Never was all that good at maths. How about you? You’d have a well-tallied record, being in finance and all. How many women have you had?’

  His mouth twisted into a reluctant smile. ‘Point taken. I’d momentarily forgotten about the Women’s Movement.’

  She smiled back, suddenly enjoying this light-hearted banter. ‘I was worried there for a time that maybe I’d married a dinosaur.’

  ‘Why did you marry me, Emily?’

  The question came from nowhere and startled her.

  ‘I…it seemed like a good idea at the time,’ she prevaricated.

  ‘For me, certainly,’ he acceded. ‘I stopped you writing your book in exchange for taking on your financial commitments. But what is it you get?’

  She met his dark gaze levelly. ‘I get to be wined and dined and ravished on the kitchen table,’ she said flippantly, reaching again for her wine. ‘What more could a woman ask for?’

  His brows met together in a frown. ‘Somehow I think you hide behind that mercurial wit for reasons I’m yet to discover.’

  ‘Prophecy, finance and psychology,’ she mused mockingly. ‘Mmm, you are a multi-skilled man.’

  ‘Tell me about your family.’ He swiftly changed the subject.

  Her eyes skittered away from his. ‘I told you before, my parents died years ago.’

  ‘You also mentioned having two siblings.’

  ‘Did I?’ She marvelled at his keen memory but refused to be drawn any further. Discussions about her family were definitely off limits.

  ‘Brothers or sisters?’ he asked.

  ‘What is this?’ She frowned at him. ‘A career change for you? Are you thinking of writing a biography on my family?’

  ‘You seem very defensive about a few simple questions,’ he observed.

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you,’ she shot back. ‘I can give you addresses and phone numbers, if you like. That’s more than you’ve given me.’

  ‘So, we’re back to that again, are we?’ His eyes narrowed as he looked across the table at her. ‘Still hankering after the elusive interview with Rose. Was that what this morning was about? Part of the buttering-up process?’

  She considered slinging the contents of her wine glass in his face, but then realised it was already empty. His gaze followed her hand as it moved towards the full tumbler of water between them.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ he warned, sliding his hand over hers. ‘Not unless you never want to eat in this restaurant again.’

  Just then the waiter made a timely appearance with their food and Emily had to force her anger under some sort of control. She silently fumed, poking at the grains of rice on her plate, her appetite gone.

  ‘Try the green curry.’ Damien passed her the serving dish garnished with kaffir lime leaves. ‘It’s reputed to be the best in town.’

  He spooned some on to her plate, the fragrant aroma teasing her nostrils. She prodded her fork at the succulent pieces of chicken in the creamy coconut sauce but didn’t carry any of it to her mouth.

  ‘Stop sulking,’ he said, after watching her toy with the food for endless minutes. ‘Personally, I don’t care if you eat it or not, but I resent having my own appetite spoilt by your petulance.’

  ‘I’m not sulking—I’m upset. When I’m upset I can’t eat.’

  He gave an exasperated sigh and put down his fork. ‘Emily, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just trying to make conversation with you. I wouldn’t have thought it was so unreasonable for a husband to know about his wife’s family.’

  ‘Ditto.’

  He gave her a hard look and she returned it with a sharp glance of her own.

  ‘I don’t wish to discuss my family. It’s no one’s business but my own.’

  He picked up his glass and said derisively, ‘Quite frankly, the only reason I’m the slightest bit interested in your family background is to find out how the hell you got so screwed up.’

  Emily got to her feet and, with utter disregard for the swivelling heads of the rest of the diners, stormed from the table without a backward glance.

  He caught her before she even got to the street corner.

  ‘OK,’ he conceded, taking her arm, ‘that was a raw nerve. I won’t touch it in future.’

  She tried to shake off his hold but his other arm came around her as well.

  ‘If you don’t let me go I’ll scream.’ She opened her mouth in readiness but before the sound could escape his lips closed over hers. She gave a token struggle, but his mouth was determined and his arms strong as they pulled her into the warm shield of his body. She tasted wine on his tongue as it stroked along hers, drawing it into active response against his.

  Somehow it didn’t matter any more who was kissing whom. Damien’s mouth had overpowered hers to begin with, but now her lips were conducting their own assault. She nipped gently at his full bottom lip, tugging at it with her small white teeth. He gave her an answering nip and she slid her tongue into his mouth.

  He pushed her back against a high garden wall out of the glow of the street light. His lower body ground against hers as
his hands found her breasts through the silk of her top.

  Suddenly he stopped. His breathing was as ragged as hers as he stepped away from her, raking a hand through his dark hair. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he shook his head warningly and pressed a none too gentle finger to her lips.

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Buffft,’ her lips protested against the pad of his finger.

  He snagged her arm and began striding off towards his car, almost dragging her in his wake. Once in the car he drove silently but furiously towards home, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel cautioning her to remain silent.

  She waited until they were back inside the house before she spoke. ‘Has the embargo on my speech been lifted, or am I to—?’

  ‘You do it deliberately, don’t you?’ His expression was thunderous as he loomed over her.

  ‘Do…do what?’

  His jaw clenched in anger as he fought to keep control. ‘This act of beguiling charm you’re so good at. One minute the injured innocent, next the seductive siren.’

  ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.’

  He gave a scornful grunt. ‘I can see what you’re up to, and I’ve got to admit I’m tempted to throw caution to the winds and take what’s on offer. But that would be playing right into your hands, now, wouldn’t it?’

  Emily looked at him in bewilderment. ‘I think maybe I’ve missed something important. Can you back up a bit to that part about me looking sexy in a garbage bag?’

  ‘There!’ He threw a hand in the air expressively. ‘You’re doing it now.’

  ‘What am I doing?’ she asked, her eyes widening innocently.

  ‘Never mind.’ He turned away, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I’m going away for a few days. On business.’

  ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Two, maybe three days.’

  ‘You don’t have firm plans? I thought business people like you would run to very tight schedules.’

  ‘You’re starting to sound like a suspicious wife.’

  She met his satirical gaze with a disdainful flash of her blue eyes.