Master of Passion
Page 13
'It is quite straightforward. As I told you, Mamma is in hospital. On Thursday she is scheduled for surgery. I want my mother to see me married before she goes under the surgeon's knife, and you, I believe, want an adequate income to restore your family home. I know you have the money I paid for the title, but that won't go far, and you will very quickly be back in the same position as you were before—needing money. If you agree to marry me, I will settle an allowance on you for life, and in addition I will spend whatever is necessary to completely refurbish and repair your home immediately. In return, all I need from you is your presence as my wife in London on Thursday and for about two weeks at most. A straightforward business deal. You will only have to work, or act... two weeks for it.'
Her glance trailed freely over his head and shoulders as he spoke. He looked stunningly attractive, if casually dressed. The white high-necked cashmere sweater, with his leather jacket draped loosely over his broad shoulders, somehow made him seem more of a foreigner to Parisa, and very Latin. She glanced around. Every other man in the restaurant wore a tie, and yet Luc still managed to look the most elegant. She had listened to his proposition and knew he did not really want her as his wife, and she would be a fool to think otherwise. But in the circumstances, wasn't that a plus factor in the deal? she argued with herself.
'A fortnight of my life for a fortune, that's all... ?' she prompted with a trace of sarcasm, her blue eyes clashing with enigmatic black ones, as bravely she held his gaze.
'Yes, that is all. According to Didi, you have almost three weeks of the Easter vacation left; our little arrangement will not affect your work. It will be completed in time for you to return to school for the summer term. It couldn't be more convenient. Think, Parisa— all your money problems solved, Didi and Joe assured of a happy retirement, and yourself free of the constant worry of trying to maintain the manor house. I am an extremely wealthy man and I am prepared to pay a lot for my mamma's peace of mind.'
The way he spoke, cool and business-like, did much to persuade her he actually meant what he was saying. 'No strings attached?' she queried. He was right; she would never get a better offer to put her house in order, both literally and metaphorically speaking. She rubbed her damp palms surreptitiously on the smooth velvet of her skirt, under the table. Finally she would be able to pay Didi and Joe a pension.
'None at all. You have my word. We get married in the register office on Thursday. We stay in my hotel suite and visit the hospital daily, say ten days or so, which is when the consultant believes my mother will be fit enough to return to Italy. But, whatever happens, you can return to Hardcourt Manor in time to go back to work.'
'Won't your mother find it odd, my vanishing after such a short time?' she asked, completely missing the flash of triumph in Luc's dark eyes at her unconscious acceptance.
'Not in the least. We'll tell her about the refurbishment of the manor, and obviously, as the mistress, you will be needed to oversee everything. I will be coming to England much more frequently now I own a company here. So there is no reason for Mother to suspect anything wrong between you and I.'
'You appear to have thought of everything,' Parisa said musingly, and drank some more champagne. 'But eventually your mother is bound to want to see me.'
'The prognosis for my mother is not great, even with the operation. A year or two at most. Afterwards, a quick divorce for you and I.'
Compassion softened Parisa's blue eyes. 'I'm sorry...I didn't realise her condition was so bad.'
'Why should you? She is little more than a stranger to you. But if you agree, it is in your power to make the rest of her life much happier.' Parisa knew he was telling the truth. The sincerity in his black eyes was unmistakable as he held her wary gaze. 'Say yes...
'Why me?' she murmured softly. Luc knew lots of women, any one of whom would jump at the chance of being his wife, without it costing him a fraction of what he seemed to be prepared to pay her. Once- again he seemed to read her mind.
'You forget my mother already believes you and I are engaged. Personally I have no more desire to get married than you have, and, flattering though it is that you imagine I can marry any woman at will, Parisa, consider: if I produce a total stranger tomorrow as my prospective bride it is hardly likely to reassure my mother,' he commented cynically.
Determined to decide with her head, logically, Parisa picked up her glass and drained it, carefully replacing it on the table. What he said made a lot of sense. Except it was Luc Di Maggi saying it... No, it was impossible. Wasn't it?
'You can't lose, Parisa. I noticed everyone around here uses your title. What are you going to tell them, that you are no longer a Lady? That title is reserved for the woman I marry.'
'That is no argument. I couldn't care less about the title—I wouldn't have sold it if I did,' she replied bluntly. But the odd pain in the region of her heart at the thought of Luc married to someone else she swiftly dismissed as indigestion.
She tilted her head to one side, her silver-gilt hair falling in a swathe over her shoulder; she had left it loose tonight. Not because Luc preferred it that way... She had simply been in a hurry. She rested her elbow on the table and twisted a strand of pale hair around her finger, while openly studying Luc. She could read nothing from his rugged, if somewhat gaunt features; a bit tired, maybe, but his cool dark eyes seemed honest enough as they met hers. Dared she trust him, and did it matter for only two weeks... ?
'Yes, all right. I agree; it's a deal.' And, stretching out her slender hand, 'Shake on it.'
Luc caught her hand in his much larger one and said very gravely, 'A deal, Parisa.' And then to her astonishment he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, his mouth warm on her soft flesh. "Thank you.'
She couldn't respond. Instead, she was trying to rub the tingling feeling from the back of her hand, under the cover of the table, and wondering if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Luc didn't give her time to change her mind, as over dessert and coffee he talked non-stop. Parisa wasn't very sure what about, and when they finally stood up to leave she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined agreeing to marry him.
She walked out of the restaurant in a daze, but was brought back to the present by the sound of Luc crying out.
'Ouch!' She swung around, and saw him sway, then straighten. Parisa couldn't help it: she burst out laughing. He had his eyes closed and was dramatically holding a hand to his head.
'This is a very old establishment, and the oak beams and low ceilings part of its charm. You should be more careful. It does say in very large letters over the dining room door: "Mind your Head".'
His 'Ha, ha...' ended in a groan.
'Are you OK?' Parisa walked back to Luc and placed a hand on his arm. 'You hurt yourself?' He looked very pale. At that moment the chauffeur walked out of the adjoining bar.
'No, I'm fine.' And Luc, straightening his broad shoulders, took her arm and led her out to the car.
Seated in the back seat of the limousine, she moved close to the window, putting as much space between herself and Luc as humanly possible.
'You have nothing to fear, Parisa...' He cast her a sidelong glance, one brow arched sardonically. 'I have no burning desire to leap on you, or, at present, the energy. Our marriage will be strictly business.'
'I wouldn't agree otherwise,' she replied firmly, but some imp of mischief deep down inside her queried the truth of her comment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The car stopped outside the oak double doors of her home. Parisa cast a sidelong glance at Luc. His head was back against the seat and his eyes were closed. The dim light of the car cast a greyish tinge over his taut features. For a moment she wondered if the knock on the head had hurt him more than he wanted to admit. His long lashes fluttered on his cheeks and his eyes opened. For a second they did not seem to focus, but with a grunt he straightened up in the seat.
His dark head bent towards her as he reached across to open the ca
'Yes—yes, fine,' she stuttered, the husky male scent of him, his nearness making her uneasy!
'Parisa.' He caught her hand as she swung her long legs out of the car. 'No second thoughts. I expect to see you in the morning. Our deal stands...'
'Yes, OK.'
There was something distant about him, and he seemed to be slurring his words. Parisa slid out of the car, and looked back.
'Get in the house,' he commanded curtly.
Turning, she walked up the steps and let herself in the front door. She locked the heavy door behind her, and tiredly walked across the hall to the stairs, the portraits of her ancestors smiling down at her. She had the oddest feeling that they were laughing at her. She shook her head to dispel the fanciful notion and wearily climbed the grand staircase.
She stopped at the antiquated bathroom next door to her bedroom, and, stripping off her clothes, had a quick wash, and, taking her old towelling robe from the back of the door, gratefully made her way to the bedroom. Shrugging out of her robe, she climbed into the welcoming softness of the huge old bed. She didn't want to think, just sleep.
But it was not so easy. Had she really agreed to marry Luc on Thursday? It made sense financially, she knew, but what about emotionally? Could she live with the man even for two weeks without resurrecting all the hurt and pain she had already suffered at his hands? Did she have the strength of will, or even the acting ability to play the part he wanted from her? A million questions swirled around her tired mind, and she wasn't capable of answering them.
Perhaps, she thought, turning restlessly on the bed, it was all a joke. Tomorrow Luc would ring and tell her it was all off. She half hoped he would. He had told her to use her head, have a bit of business sense, and she could see the advantages of his offer very clearly. True, she did feel sorry for his mother, and felt some slight obligation as she had led the lady to believe she was engaged to her son. Didi as well would be delighted at the thought of Parisa marrying Luc. But basically, what did it make her; Parisa Hardcourt-Belmont, going through a marriage ceremony mainly for money... A harsh, humourless laugh escaped her. Mercenary! But then, was that so strange? In the history of her family there had been plenty of arranged marriages, and no doubt some strictly for money. Why should she balk at the thought?
Love was for fools; she had learnt that lesson the hard way. Luc Di Maggi had taught her. She remembered when he had first broached the subject of her going to Italy with him, and he had said he would never marry, but he didn't mind getting engaged to keep his mother happy. Maybe that was Parisa's guarantee. He was a ruthless, dynamic businessman, who had, from the humble beginnings of a bakery, built a vast empire. He took what he wanted without a thought for other people. How many people had he used and cast aside along the way, herself included? she wondered.
She might despise the man. The five days she had waited in London for him to get in touch with her had been the most painful period she had ever endured. She had deluded herself into believing Luc must love her simply because she loved him. Then, the final day, she had seen the newspaper article, and realised Luc had lied to her, that the man she had thought she was in love with, the man she had even been prepared to accept was a criminal at the cost of her own conscience, was a stranger to her. Parisa had given herself to a man who had simply been playing a joke on her as some petty revenge for a supposed insult of years ago. When she had realised the extent of her naivete, she had vowed that no man would get the chance to make a fool of her again.
Could she be as hard and cynical as Luc was? Yes... She would take his money, she told herself with bitter certainty. Why not? Who more appropriate? After all, he had bought the title, and the thought really rankled. She grumbled about the old building, but in reality she loved her home and could not imagine living anywhere else. Her childhood memories of running wild around the five acres of parkland... playing hide-and-seek with her father in the many rooms... sliding down the banister ... She cherished her memories, but from now on, for the rest of her life, she would have to live with the ever present knowledge that Luc was the Lord of the Manor.
She deserved the money, she told herself, and there was no denying it would be much easier for her personally. Legally, as Luc's wife, if only in name and for a short duration, her position would remain the same and there would be no need for her to reveal to friends and acquaintances that she had actually sold the title.
Cowardly, perhaps, but she had not relished the thought of exposing her monetary problems to all and sundry. But the deciding factor was that it would enable her to pay Didi and Joe a decent pension for the rest of their lives. But it was still a long time before she finally slept, and when she did her dreams were full of a tall tanned man, black eyes gleaming with devilish humour, laughing down at her.
Parisa awakened the next morning and almost convinced herself the previous day had been a dream or, more likely, a nightmare. Luc had stormed back into her life, announcing to the world at large that she was his fiancée. She had no illusions about him caring for her... He had made it brutally obvious yesterday afternoon, with his cutting remark about the night he had made love to her. So why was she being stupid enough to go along with his crazy plan to get married, even if it was only for a couple of weeks? she asked herself. Deceiving Didi! Wearing his ring! She had no answer. Well, none she was prepared to admit to.
She did not love him... Her trip to Italy had been stupid, even though her reason for going had been compelling at the time. But a fortnight in London, a strictly platonic relationship, for a fortune... Surely it was common sense to accept... ?
She groaned. Her head was pounding, and Didi's hearty 'Good morning' as she walked into the room, a cup of coffee in her hand, did not help.
'You'd better get up, Miss Parisa. There is a man downstairs waiting for you to show him the house!'
'What? Who?' she murmured, hauling herself up the bed and tucking the sheet around under her arms. She took the proffered cup of coffee and downed it in one go. She had drunk far too much champagne last night and she wasn't used to it.
'A Mr Smythe; he's an architect. Mr Luc sent him to decide what needs doing and how. Isn't it marvellous?'
'Yes, great.' Parisa groaned as the enormity of what she had agreed to hit her. Luc had certainly wasted no time, she thought angrily. Obviously he was taking no chances on her changing her mind. She barely had time to wash and slip on her leather suit before the limousine arrived to take her to the hospital.
Parisa stepped out of the car outside the main entrance to the hospital, and before she had time to sling her shoulder-bag over her shoulder Luc was at her elbow.
'Good, you've arrived. Mother will be pleased.' And, without so much as a 'Good morning', he was ushering her into the hospital.
'Hello to you, too,' she said sarcastically, glancing sideways at his handsome face. He still looked rather pale and she wondered if it was solely because of his concern for his mother. Or perhaps it was the thought of getting married, even briefly? He was not the marrying type, as he had told her more than once. This morning he was wearing a smart two-piece navy suit, with a high-necked Cossack-style blue silk shirt and no tie. It should have looked affected, she thought wryly, but on Luc it looked stunning.
They stepped into the lift with two white-coated girls, who couldn't take their eyes off Luc. Parisa smiled grimly. He was that sort of man: he attracted females like bees to honey.
Then Luc was leading her into the private room on the second floor, and all her attention was captured by the lady lying in the bed. Her eyes widened with shock. Signora Di Maggi looked nothing like the strapping woman she had met two months ago. How could someone change so much in so short a time? she wondered, forcing herself to smile as she crossed to the bedside.
'Hello, Signora Di Maggi. What have you been doing?' And, bending down, she pressed her lips to the lined cheek, the skin like dry parchment beneath her lips.
The old lady smiled, her dark eyes so like her son's, but full of moisture. 'Parisa. It is lovely you are here, and to be married. I am so happy...'
Luc stood at the opposite side of the bed, his whole attention centred on the occupant, a smile of such warmth and love on his face that Parisa had to stifle a gasp of amazement. 'You must not talk too much, Mamma, and no excitement. Doctor's orders.' And, leaning over the bed, he kissed the top of her white head, while gathering her slender hands in his massive ones. He sat on the side of the bed, and for a few moments mother and son simply looked at each other.
Parisa felt like an intruder, and silently she sat down on the chair beside the bed, staring at her hands entwined on her lap. She felt a swift stab of guilt as the huge ring on her finger glittered with a brilliant light. Before, when she had thought it was simple costume jewellery, it had not bothered her, but now she was constantly aware of it. She had no doubt that what Luc had said was true. It was a rare and costly diamond. She must have been blind not to notice the true value. If she had been thinking logically at the time of the party', she would have realised that Luc might produce a fake fiancée to fool his family, but he would never have insulted their intelligence by producing a fake ring. But what of a fake marriage? It wasn't right, what she and Luc were doing to his mother. She gnawed at her bottom lip, frowning. The old lady deserved the truth.
Half an hour later when they got up to leave, Parisa did not need a doctor to tell her the visit had done Signora Di Maggi good. She was smiling and obviously content.
Luc walked around the bed and flung a casual arm around Parisa's shoulder. She tensed, but did not pull away, in deference to the old lady's feelings. And when, with an aside to his mother, Luc turned Parisa into his arms, bent his dark head, his mouth covering hers in a deep, gentle kiss, she almost imagined he meant it, her body melting against his as his mastery of her senses overcame her logical mind. It was a flushed and very worried girl who finally walked out of the hospital, with Luc retaining a firm grip on her hand.
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