Wife: Bought and Paid For

by Jacqueline Baird

  Solo lifted his head and looked down into her dazed green eyes, the softly pouting mouth, and offered, ‘If you like we can have a wedding reception for your friends when we return to England.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Penny said rather nervously as she glimpsed the deep, sensual warmth in his eyes.

  ‘Good, because there is no going back,’ he mocked. ‘You’re mine.’

  Something Penny was made very much aware of at six o’clock that evening as, stripped to her briefs, she stood in the changing room of an exclusive boutique silently fuming.

  She had slept for most of the afternoon. Anna had awoken her with a cup of tea and some very English cucumber sandwiches, and the information the master would be waiting for her downstairs in half an hour. Physically feeling much better, Penny had showered and dressed in a plain rose-coloured shift dress in fine cotton, a matching scarf held her long hair back and, with sandals on her feet, she had made it downstairs in time.

  Solo had taken a brief look at her and said, ‘Very nice, but I think we can do better than that for your wedding dress,’ which did nothing for her self-confidence.

  ‘In that case, you can’t come with me. It is unlucky for the groom to see the wedding dress before the marriage service.’

  With a sardonic tilt of one ebony brow, Solo said, ‘Foolish superstition. A man makes his own luck in this world.’

  Solo certainly did, Penny thought wryly, and did not bother arguing.

  A short journey in a fire-red sports car saw them arrive at this exclusive boutique in Sorrento. The owner, a stunning-looking woman named Teresa, greeted Solo with a kiss and a hug, while Penny was subjected to a brief smile and a comprehensive examination of her slender figure, before Teresa turned back to Solo and a discussion in Italian followed.

  Roughly Penny pulled the cream creation over her head and smoothed it down over her slender hips, her temper simmering. Half a dozen times already she had paraded out of the cubicle into the salon, and had to suffer the indignity of Solo lounging on a satin sofa and studying every inch of her body. Then discussing the relative merits of the garments in his native language with Teresa, before saying yes or no.

  At least that was what Penny thought they were doing, but they could have been arranging a hot date for all she knew, and she felt like an idiot. She did not even bother looking in the mirror this time before she marched back out into the salon.

  ‘So will this do?’ she demanded, her green eyes flashing fire. Teresa was now on the sofa beside Solo. The woman might as well sit on his lap, Penny thought angrily. It was perfectly obvious they were very good friends and probably more. Not that she cared, she told herself…

  Solo’s grey eyes lifted, and an arrested expression crossed his hard features. Slowly his gaze raked over her face and down her throat, to her slender shoulders and lower. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.

  She felt the heat of his glance down her body, like a flame, and looked down. Then blushed scarlet when she realised the strapless gown, embroidered in tiny seed pearls, revealed the upper curve of her breasts, and fitted like a second skin into her narrow waist and down over her hips to end above her knee. ‘There is a jacket to go with it.’ She spun around.

  ‘No, wait,’ Solo demanded and slowly she turned back to face him.

  He had stood up, and moved to stop in the middle of the floor. She glanced up at him, a tall giant of a man with silver-grey eyes, and then quickly lowered her eyes as he slowly walked all the way around her.

  She half turned. ‘I’ll get the jacket.’ But long, tanned fingers closed over her shoulders and turned her back to face him.

  ‘Not yet, let me look.’ His grey eyes raked over her from head to toe. ‘This is the one.’ His deep, husky drawl feathered across her nerves as smooth as silk. ‘You look incredible,’ and, turning to Teresa, ‘You agree?’

  Penny made her feet move. ‘Right, so that is that,’ she said flatly, dashing back into the changing cubicle. But she did not escape quite so easily. By the time they left the boutique she was the owner of three formal gowns, a whole load of mix-and-match casual summer clothes, if one could call designer labels casual—the prices certainly weren’t—and to her shame some very flimsy underwear Solo took delight in choosing for her.

  ‘Did you have to ask Teresa what she thought of lace thongs?’ Penny snapped when they finally got out of the shop. ‘I have never been so embarrassed in my life.’

  He slanted a mocking sideways glance at her as he led her to an outside table at the restaurant next door, and held out a chair. ‘Sit, you’re looking rather flushed, and your naivety is showing.’ And he had the nerve to laugh.

  ‘Well, I would never wear one,’ Penny said sharply.

  ‘Shame.’ Solo smiled down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I rather like the image of you in a tiny lace thong,’ he murmured as he took the seat opposite her.

  ‘You’re disgusting.’ Her flashing green eyes clashed with his. ‘But then at your age I should not be surprised—you probably need all the titillation you can get!’ she shot back, deliberately having a dig at his age in the hope of denting his massive ego.

  His lips twisted into a cynical smile that held a hint of cruelty and his eyes held no humour at all. ‘You’re brave in public with a table between us,’ he told her blandly. ‘But beware of challenging me, Penny. You’re a novice in the sexual stakes.’

  He regarded her silently across the table for what seemed like an age, and it took considerable will-power to hold his gaze. ‘But unlike you I am still young enough to learn.’

  With a shout of laughter he threw his head back. ‘Have you any idea what you have just invited, you foolish girl?’

  ‘I am neither a girl or foolish,’ Penny replied, infuriated by his laughter.

  Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand in one of his. ‘That could be construed as an offer for me to teach you everything I know.’ He lifted his hand to his lips and kissed her palm, and she felt the sensual effect right down to her toes. ‘Thank you, cara,’ and at that moment the waiter arrived.

  Penny wanted to rage at the arrogant devil, but, thinking over where her anger had led her, she could see his point.

  ‘Champagne, Penny?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Why not? Maybe getting drunk was not such a bad idea. Face it, she told herself, it is the only one you have left.

  His slate-grey eyes raked over her expressive features, pinning her gaze. ‘Not a good idea. Alcohol never solved anything. Trust me, I know.’

  He was a mind-reader as well; why didn’t that surprise her? Letting her lips curl in a brief smile, she taunted, ‘You would, oh, mighty one, font of all knowledge, seducer of hundreds of women.’

  ‘I will take that as a joke…this time,’ Solo warned with a hint of steel, and she wondered at her own nerve in goading him.

  ‘Have some champagne.’ He poured the sparkling liquid into the glass provided. ‘A toast to our marriage and us. It can be as happy as you choose to make it, Penny.’

  ‘Why is it up to me?’ she asked dryly. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, it takes two to make a marriage.’

  Solo leaned back in his chair, his handsome face expressionless. ‘Because I know what I want from this marriage,’ he declared with thoughtful deliberation. ‘But I’m not sure you do.’

  ‘I don’t actually want to marry you at all. I simply want to prevent being declared a bankrupt and keep a roof over my brother’s and my head,’ she slashed back bluntly. ‘And as you are hardly likely to spend much time at Haversham Park, and I am certainly not going anywhere else, it will be a temporary marriage of hopefully brief duration.’ Her life was full enough with James and her fledgling writing career to look after. What the hell! As long as she wasn’t pregnant, she could come out of the sorry mess smelling of roses, with Solo the villain. After all, he already had a long-term mistress in Tina Jenson.

  Lifting her glass, she pinned a dazzling smile on her face. ‘To us,’ and she drained the glas
s. ‘But tell me,’ she said, placing the glass on the table and glancing across into his flintlike eyes. He was so confident and incredibly attractive, he mesmerised and made her want to murder him in equal parts. ‘How did your PA react to your news, or haven’t you told her yet?’

  One ebony brow arched sardonically. ‘An interest in my business? You do surprise me.’

  ‘Well, rumour has it Tina Jenson is something more than your PA,’ Penny said with a brittle smile. ‘I do hope you have informed her of your forthcoming nuptials, it is only good manners,’ she ended facetiously.

  His grey eyes became coldly remote on her mutinous face. ‘Of course,’ he drawled. ‘Tina as my PA is aware of my movements at all times.’

  Anger hot and instant scorched Penny’s cheeks. ‘I’ll just bet she is.’ To think Tina was his lover was bad enough, but to have it tacitly confirmed by the arrogant devil was too much.

  He watched her with merciless eyes. ‘As for the rest,’ he said cuttingly. ‘I never listen to rumour, and neither should you.’

  ‘So you never slept with Tina?’ The question just popped out and Penny could have kicked herself.

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ he corrected silkily. ‘But it is nice to know you are jealous, Penny, darling.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  PENNY watched him drink his second cup of coffee with bleary eyes. Solo had eaten a good breakfast, ham, eggs and three pastries, with apparent enjoyment, while she had struggled to swallow one of the delicious pastries. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, his silver-grey eyes smiling at her across the top of his cup.

  ‘I’ve been in touch with decorators and Brownie, and with a bit of luck by the time we have to return to England at least the paintwork at Haversham Park will not be so bilious.’

  ‘You’ve what?’ she exclaimed. ‘Who gave you the right to instigate the decoration of my home.’

  ‘Our home, Penelope,’ he drawled sardonically.

  He was right again. They were seated at a table outside on the terrace, the sun was warm on her bare shoulders. Italy in May was a lot warmer than England and she had dressed accordingly in a cropped white cotton top and a short denim skirt. But suddenly she felt cold. She tilted her chin. ‘You should have consulted me anyway,’ she flared, her pride stung.

  ‘I didn’t think it was necessary. Brownie assured me she remembers all the original colours.’ Solo shrugged. ‘I thought that would do for now as I remember it being very attractively decorated.’

  He had been talking to Brownie behind her back, and that hurt. Solo had taken over her home and now the loyalty of the one person Penny trusted above all others.

  ‘Later we can discuss any alterations that need to be made, perhaps a new nursery.’ At her arrested gasp a glint of amusement flickered in his grey eyes. ‘You must consider the possibility, Penny, as you so succinctly pointed out we took no precautions.’

  ‘Well, if it ever happens again, you better make damn sure you do.’ Penny hated him for stating cold, hard facts. It was all his fault she might be pregnant.

  The amusement vanished from his eyes. ‘Oh, it will happen again, and again, of that you can be sure,’ he stated emphatically, shooting her a penetrating glance. ‘As for protection, if the thought of having my child so horrifies you—’ his mouth thinned in a tight, ominous line ‘—I suggest you wait until we see what nature intends this month, and then I will introduce you to my doctor, and you can take the pill.’

  If Penny had not known better, she would have thought she had deeply offended him, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He had made it very plain their relationship was strictly sexual, and of a temporary nature. With Tina in the background it could never be anything else. Why the thought depressed her, she didn’t dare question.

  ‘We don’t have to get married,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Yes, we do.’ Solo eyed her with cool implacability. ‘I was born a bastard and no child of mine will suffer the same fate.’

  ‘I thought your parents were dead!’ Penny exclaimed.

  ‘My mother is, she died when I was ten; my father, I have no idea. He was an American sailor, and my mother a whore.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ Penny murmured, her tender heart aching as she pictured Solo as a small boy without family. ‘I can’t imagine not having a home and family.’ She lifted green eyes moist with sympathy to his. ‘It must have been awful for you.’

  ‘No, it was the making of me. The streets of Naples were my home. As for family, who needs one? Neither your father or your stepmother were particularly kind to you, or you would not be here now. Save your pity for someone who needs it,’ he declared callously. ‘Yourself perhaps, because you are still going to marry me. The arrangements have been made, and I will not be made to look a fool in my home town.’

  Penny said nothing. But the insight into his upbringing or lack of it had a profound effect on her troubled mind. She could not get the picture of a young Solo having to fend for himself out of her mind. He had every material thing a man could want, wealth, power, stunning good looks, a home. A home filled with perfect objects, and who could blame him for collecting only the best, when he had started life with nothing? No wonder he had insisted on marriage, any child of Solo’s would have everything the world could provide.

  She cast him a surreptitious glance through the thick fringe of her lashes—but would the child have love? He was so cold, so controlled, but, beneath the hard exterior was he capable of love? As a teenager she had once thought so; he had been light-hearted and had made her laugh, for a few short weeks they had had fun… Later he had made her cry. Perhaps it was not impossible to recapture something of the past.

  But for the duration of the meal the conversation was limited to generalities.

  Later, acting as though he were a tourist guide, Solo showed her around his home. She stared in amazement at the paintings in the main salon. She recognised a genuine Matisse, and her eyes boggled at the exquisite oriental china, the bronze statues.

  His collection of objets d’art was eclectic, but everything the genuine original. He had not been joking when he had told her he collected only perfect objects. His home was beautiful, and she told him so after leaving a purpose-built gallery that housed modern art, a Picasso and Jackson Pollock just two of about twenty.

  ‘You are like a human magpie, Solo.’ She slanted a smiling glance up at him. They were in his study, and even the desk was magnificent, made of polished walnut, and the silver and crystal ink set had no modern use but was perfect all the same.

  His lips curled sardonically. ‘If by that you think I am a thief…’ he gripped her arm just below the elbow, his fingers biting into her flesh ‘…let me disabuse you of the notion. Everything I have I have bought legitimately, and that includes you.’

  Then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her breasts against his hard, muscular chest, moulding her slender thighs and stomach into the rocklike contours of his body. He lowered his head and his hard mouth covered hers.

  Penny could not move, so she did the only thing possible and clung to his wide shoulders as he kissed her with a deep, burning, angry passion.

  At last he lifted his head and moved back and her legs trembled, her breathing ragged. ‘I never meant…’ She suddenly realised the insensitivity of her comment with a background like Solo’s and wanted to apologise, but he didn’t give her the chance.

  ‘Shut up, Penny, and listen.’ His chiselled features impassive, his expression was hard. Walking around the desk, he said, ‘I have the pre-nuptial for your signature. Read it, and I think you will find I have not robbed you, then sign,’ he commanded cynically.

  Penny looked warily at the papers he slid across the desk, rubbing her arm—she would probably have a bruise there tomorrow—then picked up the document.

  ‘More than generous,’ she said flatly into the long silence and signed it.

  Penny’s wedding day dawned bright and clear. Anna insisted on doing her hair—apparently she ha
d been a hairdresser in her youth—and swirled the blonde tresses into a fantastic concoction on top of Penny’s head. The final touch was a number of tiny rosebuds from the garden inserted in the soft curls.

  Penny glanced at her reflection in the mirror, and hardly recognised herself. The strapless dress lovingly clung to her slender body, the tiny pearls glinting in the sunlight. She slipped on the short jacket with the pearl-studded stand-up collar, and she had never felt so elegant. The three-inch high-heeled matching shoes helped.

  The ceremony at the civic hall was thankfully brief. Anna and Nico were the witnesses, and half a dozen other people appeared. Solo introduced her but she was too numb with nerves to take in their names. Penny stood still as a statue at Solo’s side as he signed the necessary documents, and she took the pen from his elegant fingers and added her own name where he indicated, and it was all over. It seemed unbelievable to Penny that a few words in a language she barely understood had changed her life.

  She glanced up at the man who was now her husband looking as cool and remote as ever. Dressed in an expertly tailored pale grey business suit and looking for all the world as if he had just concluded another business deal. Which she supposed in a way was what their marriage was.

  Suddenly, as Solo cupped her elbow in his warm palm, and ushered her out into the bright sunlight, a dozen cameras all seemed to go off at once.

  In the noise and confusion that followed Penny felt totally lost. Somebody shouted Solo’s name and something else in Italian, and Solo chuckled, and the rest went off in peals of laughter. Penny did not get the joke. But then she didn’t get much through the meal that followed in a very plush restaurant—the conversation was quick-fire Italian.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ Solo murmured during a lull in the conversation. ‘Are you all right?’ His mouth was close to her ear and she was aware of several things at once. Gleaming silver eyes alight with amusement, and the faintly cynical curve of his sensuous lips, and the gentle touch of his hand over hers on the table. She caught the glint of the gold wedding band Solo was wearing and wondered why he had insisted on them both wearing a ring. ‘You look a little flushed.’