Bride for a Price

by Stephanie Howard

  Jeffrey nodded and grinned. ‘Of course,’ he assured her unnecessarily. For she knew full well that the energetic Jeffrey could have run The Gallery single-handed.

  ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ she promised, already grabbing her coat. Then she was dashing headlong out of the door, heading for her car.

  Lewis was waiting for her in the entrance hall, an unaccustomed gleam of excitement in his eyes. ‘Come.’ He propelled her urgently through the swing doors and along the corridor to his office. ‘You’ll never guess what our solicitors have turned up,’ he told her once they were safely inside.

  Olivia poised herself on the edge of one of the chairs as Lewis sat down opposite her. ‘What?’ she demanded—and waited, her stomach churning with anticipation.

  As Lewis leaned towards her and began to speak, he twisted the middle-finger ring on his right hand —always a sign of tension. ‘When our solicitors were investigating the Jordan charter to check up on that exclusion clause, quite by accident they turned up something else.’ His face beamed with conspiracy. ‘Another unexpected little clause in the charter that explains everything quite beautifully.’

  Olivia was almost jumping out of her skin with curiosity. ‘Get to the point, Lewis,’ she told him.

  He took a deep breath. ‘It’s all so simple.’ Again that gleam shone in his eyes. ‘The reason that Matthew Jordan proposed to you is quite simply that he needs a wife.’

  Olivia blinked. ‘Needs a wife? What on earth do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean, Miss Garland, that his notorious great-uncle Julius had inserted in the charter another little clause that his duplicitous great-nephew conveniently omitted to tell you about…‘He smiled smugly as he played his trump card. ‘It transpires that control or the company can only be assumed by a married man. Uncle Julius, it appears, was a man of the strictest Victorian principles, a firm believer in the family man. Matthew Jordan is entitled to be company chief only if he has a wife.’

  Olivia frowned across at him, barely comprehending. ‘But that can’t be true,’ she protested. For once Lewis had got his facts wrong. ‘He’s already taken over the company and he hasn’t got a wife.’

  ‘Ah…’ Lewis held up his hand and confidently shook his greying head. ‘The clause gives him six months to rectify the situation. If, by the time that period elapses, he’s still unmarried, control of the company passes to the next in line.’

  ‘And who would that be?’

  ‘According to my information, a younger cousin who at the moment plays a somewhat peripheral role in the running of Jordan Electronics. He’s already married with a couple of children.’

  For a long moment Olivia stared at him, unable to take in this astounding news. ‘You mean he really would lose control of Jordan’s if he didn’t get married within six months?’

  ‘Less than three months now,’ Lewis corrected her. ‘Remember, he inherited from his uncle Roland back in January.’

  Suddenly, as Lewis had warned her, it was all falling neatly into place. Matthew Jordan had as much to gain from this marriage of convenience as she did herself. It was hard, not to say impossible, to imagine him voluntarily relinquishing control of Jordan’s. Or of anything else, come to that. If she were to accept his preposterous proposal, they would be entering the deal on equal ground.

  Maybe, she found herself wondering wildly, the arrangement might be feasible, after all.

  Lewis was watching her with bright, expectant eyes. ‘This gives you the leverage you need, Miss Garland. You’re in a position to dictate your terms.’

  That was undoubtedly true, but Olivia was still unsure. She smiled weakly at him. ‘But marriage, Lewis… to a man like that! It’s such a terrifyingly drastic step.’

  He leaned towards her sympathetically. ‘Miss Garland, you know I’ve been behind you all the way in your fight to get Garland’s back.’ He paused as she nodded, acknowledging the absolute truth of his claim. No mere employee could have been expected to support her so loyally. The merger, after all, had brought no personal disadvantage to Lewis. And, in spite of the immediate discomfort of the appointment of McKay, a man of Lewis Ottley’s talents could only ultimately benefit from being a part of so huge an organisation.

  ‘I know that, and I appreciate it,’ she told him.

  He frowned and fiddled uneasily with the middle-finger signet ring. ‘If there was any other possibility left open to us now, I would counsel you to hang on and try.’ He shrugged a shrug of bleak despair. ‘But we’re up against a brick wall now. This really is the only chance we’ve got.’

  Olivia sighed and glanced away, recognising the cruel truth of his words.

  ‘It would be a sacrifice on your part, I know. But remember, it would only be a temporary arrangement.’ He paused. ‘Think of your brother. You know as well as I do that it would break his heart to lose Garland’s for good.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ In anguish, Olivia dropped her head into her hands.

  Lewis sighed sympathetically. ‘But the decision has to be yours, Miss Garland. And whatever you decide, I’ll be on your side.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She raised her head and took a deep breath and stole a tentative glance at her watch. There were still a couple of hours to go before Matthew Jordan’s deadline expired. With a sigh, she started to stand up. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go now and have a quiet think by myself.’

  ‘Of course.’ Respectfully, Lewis rose to his feet.

  ‘I’ll make my own way out.’ At the door, Olivia paused. ‘And I’ll let you know what I decide.’

  Difficult decisions should always be made in surroundings that inspired peace of mind. Almost automatically now, Olivia found herself driving north till she came to a favourite old family picnic spot, overlooking the River Dee.

  It was deserted now as she parked the car, the sun already beginning to set, fiery-red, in a clear April sky. She leaned against the steering-wheel, stared outside and tried to straighten the jumble in her head.

  The trouble was that, as so often, her head was in open conflict with her heart. Her head said: be cool. Treat it as a business move. But her heart was telling her: beware! Yet her ultimate consideration had to be Richard. Would he ever forgive her if she were to pass up this final chance to save Garland’s—and, with it, his future?

  The weight of responsibility was crushing, but the fear she felt still held her back. For, as she had confided to Lewis, it would be a terrifying step to take. To be thrust into a state of marriage—a state she had never really seriously considered before— with, of all men in the world, one she detested so profoundly.

  A chill went through her. She closed her eyes. Was she really tough enough to make that ultimate sacrifice?

  An hour later she drove back to her flat and poured herself a very stiff drink. Then she took from her bag the business card that Matthew Jordan had given her and dialled the number with trembling fingers. With any luck, she was praying, he would already have gone home and she could leave her message on his answering machine.

  But, almost instantly, his cool tones answered. ‘Matthew Jordan here.’

  Olivia hesitated. Then, ‘It’s me, Olivia Garland,’ she said nervously.

  ‘Miss Garland, what a nice surprise!’ His tone changed slightly. ‘What can I do for you?’

  For one precarious moment Olivia’s nerve almost deserted her. She took a quick swig of her drink and resisted the temptation to hang up. Instead, in a voice that she could barely recognise, that seemed to belong to someone else, she told him, ‘About that proposal of yours. I’ve decided to accept.’

  ‘I want one thing to be absolutely clear. The only reason I’ve agreed to enter into this ridiculous contract is that I know about the secret marriage clause. I do you a favour, you do me a favour. Strictly business,’ Olivia spelled out.

  They were sitting in the immense drawing-room of Matthew Jordan’s Hertfordshire home, just a few miles outside St Albans. Olivia had flown down that afternoon,
in one of Jordan Electronics’ company jets, to spend the weekend—at Matthew’s behest. ‘So that,’ as he had put it, ‘we can finalise the deal.’

  He was looking casual in grey trousers and an open-necked blue check shirt as he lounged in one of the huge velvet armchairs that were scattered about the elegant room; she considerably less at ease as she perched on the edge of her own chair opposite, her slim legs crossed decorously at the ankle, her charcoal skirt adjusted over her knees.

  A woman who was evidently his housekeeper had brought them tea and biscuits on a tray, but Olivia was feeling far too nervous even to have sampled hers as yet. Matthew, contrarily, was helping himself to a second cup. He said with a faint smile, ‘That was very clever of your Mr Ottley to find out about old Uncle Julius’s secret marriage clause.’

  ‘Of course he’s clever. That’s why the company employs him.’ She threw him a derisive look. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place what your proposal was all about, instead of trying to pretend you were doing me some sort of big-hearted favour?’

  He leaned unselfconsciously back in his chair and regarded her through amused hazel eyes. ‘Just my devious nature, I guess. I like to play my cards close to my chest.’

  ‘You also like to have the upper hand,’ Olivia enlightened him coolly. She could see through him as clearly as a pane of glass. ‘You like to feel that you’re in control. Well, you can forget any such notions now.’ She deliberately straightened her shoulders. ‘We go into this deal as equals.’

  ‘My feelings entirely.’ He smiled enigmatically and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. ‘I’ve always believed that marriage is a contract into which two people should enter strictly on equal terms.’

  Olivia grimaced at the mention of the word ‘marriage’. ‘I prefer to refer to our contract as a business arrangement. After all, that’s all it is.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ he agreed.

  She held his eyes, not quite daring to come straight out with what it was she wanted to say. And she was suddenly acutely, burningly aware of the vibrantly male presence of him—the glimpse of muscular, dark-tanned chest revealed at the open neck of his shirt, the broad shoulders, strong forearms and the long, hard-thighed legs that were stretched out casually in front of him.

  She touched the high-buttoned neck of her blouse and repeated, ‘A business arrangement. I want to be quite unambiguous that that’s all it is.’

  ‘What else?’ He drank and laid aside his empty cup before adding with amused sarcasm, ‘One could scarcely describe it as a love-match, after all.’

  ‘And I have your word that, as soon as Garland’s has been transferred, divorce proceedings will begin?’

  ‘You have my word. Though only after a respectable period of time. I think we’ve already agreed on six months.’

  Olivia paled at the thought. It sounded like an eternity. But she nodded, then added suspiciously, ‘You’re sure there’s not some other secret clause that requires you to remain married?’ It would be absolutely unbearable if he were to renege on their deal.

  But he shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that was one eventuality that Great-Uncle Julius failed to foresee. In his day, divorce was less common than it is now. People tended to marry for life. My uncle made the profound error of assuming such attitudes would endure.’

  Olivia felt a sharp stab of discomfort at his words. She had been brought up to believe the same. And she did. Marriage should be for life. Which was yet another reason why she continued to feel uneasy about what she was about to do. Unfortunately, she consoled herself, it was sometimes necessary to sacrifice one’s ideals for the sake of a greater good. And this marriage would be no marriage at all. Only on paper would it qualify as such.

  She told him, ‘I’d like a written guarantee that no such secret clause exists.’

  ‘You shall have it. Though, naturally, you will understand that no official agreement can be made in advance regarding our intention to divorce. That would invalidate the marriage.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. Unfortunately.’

  ‘You’ll just have to trust me, I’m afraid.’

  Not something that came naturally.

  ‘And, likewise, I’ll just have to trust you. For all I know, when the time comes you might decide to change your mind.’ Matthew smiled strangely. ‘You might decide that, after all, you rather like being married to me.’

  Olivia almost laughed out loud. The man’s self-delusion knew no bounds! ‘Don’t worry,’ she scoffed. ‘That’s one thing you definitely needn’t fear. As soon as the six months are up, you won’t see my heels for dust!’

  ‘Good.’ The dark head nodded his approval. ‘That’s precisely what I’m banking on.’

  Feeling herself relax just a bit, Olivia sat back in her chair and reached for her untouched cup of tea. She drank, regarding Matthew Jordan over the rim. ‘There’s still one thing that puzzles me. Why did you choose me? I’m sure a man like yourself would have no great difficulty in finding a wife.’ Someone, she added to herself, who would provide him with a somewhat more satisfying six months than she intended to do. An image of the docile, attentive Celine flashed immediately to mind. ‘Your secretary, for example. I’m sure she would have been happy to oblige.’

  Without a trace of modesty, he assured her, ‘Yes, I’m sure she would.’ Then he smiled. ‘But, unlike you, she wouldn’t have been so easy to get rid of when the time came.’ The long-lashed hazel eyes held hers. ‘That’s why you’re perfect for such a purpose. Like me, you see this as a straightforward business deal.’ He straightened and leaned towards her, causing her involuntarily to draw back her knees. ‘And now I suggest we tackle the details. Dates, that sort of thing. The marriage should take place as quickly as possible.’ He threw her a calculating look. ‘The sooner it’s started, the sooner it’s over. And that’s what we both want, isn’t it?’

  Olivia nodded woodenly, trying to hide the trepidation she felt.

  ‘I’m sure we could manage to have everything arranged for the week after next.’

  So soon? She felt a cold sensation shiver inside.

  ‘Naturally, since you’ll be staying here, you’ll have to make arrangements for your art gallery. What about your assistant? Will he be able to run it while you’re gone?’

  Olivia nodded. ‘That’s no problem.’

  ‘Good. And naturally we shall keep the details of our little arrangement to ourselves.’ As she flushed slightly and glanced away, he added suspiciously, ‘Or have you already made them public knowledge?’

  ‘I’ve told Lewis,’ she admitted.

  ‘Ottley?’

  She nodded. ‘But don’t worry, I can trust him. He won’t spread it around.’

  He seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘Make sure he doesn’t. Not for the sake of our marriage, more for the sake of our divorce. I’m sure neither of us would want anything to get in the way of that.’

  Nothing surer.

  He stood up. ‘And now I’ll show you round the house.’ As she hesitated he added, ‘After all, it’s going to be your home too—at least, for the next six months.’

  Reluctantly Olivia got to her feet, smoothing the skirt of her charcoal suit—and all at once was uncomfortably aware of his gaze drifting downwards to her breasts. Then she recoiled in sudden horror as he reached out one hand to touch her blouse. As she jerked away—‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’—his free hand came out to grab her by the arm, preventing her from moving away.

  ‘Nothing to worry about.’ He smiled. ‘Just one of the buttons of your blouse undone.’ And with deft, unhurried fingers he proceeded to complete his interrupted task. ‘That’s better.’ He held her eyes as, lightly, the side of his hand brushed against her breast. ‘We can’t have you exposing yourself. Someone might realise you’re a woman.’

  Olivia’s face was flaming as he continued to hold her there, the fingers clamped around her arm like imprisoning bands of steel. And there was something almost su
ffocating about his nearness as he looked down at her with a slow, mocking smile. ‘My dear Olivia,’ he told her, addressing her informally for the very first time, ‘you really mustn’t let such a small intimacy upset you. After all,’ he reminded her with relish, ‘you and I are practically husband and wife.’

  His face was so close to hers that she could see quite clearly the dark amber flecks in the deep hazel irises, and she felt her stomach contract in sudden panic as the wide mouth parted in a smile. ‘Let me go!’ she commanded, struggling futilely as he held her firm, trying to decide just how hard she would hit him if he dared to try to kiss her now.

  But she was safe—for the moment, at least. With a shake of his head, Matthew stepped away and abruptly let go his hold on her arm. ‘Come, Olivia, let me show you the house.’ Then he was leading her across the room, she following at a safe distance behind, her body still trembling with outrage and anger, her heart still clamouring inside.

  ‘Damn you, Matthew Jordan!’ she was muttering to herself. ‘Don’t you dare try another trick like that!’

  But all the outrage she could muster somehow couldn’t quite dispel the sudden sharp sense of foreboding that she felt.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ten days later, in a register office ceremony in north London, a somewhat tight-lipped and nervous Olivia officially became Mrs Matthew Jordan.

  As Matthew had predicted, the whole thing had been organised with alarming speed—a blessing in disguise, Olivia had stoically convinced herself. That way, she hadn’t had time to dwell upon the ghastliness of her situation. And, as Matthew had pointed out, the sooner the ordeal was started, the sooner it would be over.

  ‘I’m certain you won’t regret it,’ Lewis had reassured her kindly when, ashen-faced, she had broken the news to him. ‘The six months will be over in no time at all—and look what you’ll have gained at the end of it.’ With a proud smile he had held out his hand. ‘Congratulations, Miss Garland. It’s a noble and worthy thing that you’re doing.’