Englishman's Bride (9781460366332)

by Weston, Sophie

  She was breathing shakily and her eyes were restless. But not because she felt exposed by the dress. She felt exposed by her own unguarded behaviour. All she wanted to do was keep out of sight as long as she had to stay at the reception. And dive for the door as soon as she decently could.

  She kept telling herself that Lisa was right. Philip Hardesty—Sir Philip Hardesty, curse his deceitful tongue—had bigger fish to fry tonight. He would not waste any of his time on a naïve idiot who had poured her heart out to him without stopping to think.

  But Kit was not taking any risks. She located him as soon as he walked into the room. Lisa was quite right; he was surrounded by an eager group. It looked as if they were all talking at once. He stood with his head bent courteously, apparently untangling the conversation without difficulty. In total control, as always, she thought dourly.

  Only then Kit saw him put out a hand to set down his empty glass. For a moment it looked as if he was going to miss the edge of the table. She saw him do a double take, and field the thing before it could fall to the floor. It was so quick that she could almost have convinced herself that she had not seen it. But then she saw him look round, carefully.

  Checking to see whether anyone had noticed, she thought. Her brows knitted. What was going on?

  But then that careful checking out of the room reached her quadrant. He frowned a little, turning his head as if he was trying to bring her into focus. And then, their eyes met. Locked.

  Kit took off. She began to duck and weave like a professional to keep out of his line of sight.

  Only to be torpedoed by her own brother-in-law.

  ‘Here she is,’ said Nikolai in self-congratulatory tones. ‘Thought I’d lost you for a minute there, Kit. Thought you’d like to meet the great man. This is Philip Hardesty. My sister-in-law. Kit Romaine.’

  Kit froze, perfectly horrified.

  Then justified indignation kicked in. Would he have the effrontery to admit that he had already taken her on a trip round his particular merry-go-round?

  He would.

  ‘Kit and I have already met,’ Philip said levelly.

  He smiled at her. Nikolai’s eyebrows hit his hairline. Kit met calm dark eyes and thought she would explode with fury.

  ‘Well, not to say met,’ she said sweetly. ‘I didn’t know you were the Big Cheese. You just forgot to mention it?’

  Nikolai pursed his lips in a silent whistle. ‘I’ll just make sure Lisa’s got a drink,’ he said hastily and backed into the crowd.

  Neither of them noticed him go.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Philip simply.

  Kit strove hard to stay angry. It was a lot better than feeling a prize fool.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I was too stupid to understand what you do?’

  He looked startled. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then why?’

  He shifted his shoulders. ‘Because I didn’t want to, I suppose. I do nothing but talk about deals and strategies and the terrible things people do to each other when they feel threatened. I wanted—’

  ‘Time out,’ said Kit, her voice catching.

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘So what does that make me? Mindless entertainment of the day?’

  He was shocked into making a bad mistake. ‘I didn’t realise how sensitive you are until it was too late—’

  Kit nearly took off, she was so angry.

  She said between her teeth, ‘I am not sensitive.’

  Philip promptly made bad worse. ‘Then why are you tearing into me like this?’ he said reasonably.

  There was a moment when Kit, who loathed and detested scenes, genuinely thought she might slap his face. She saw his composed expression through a hot mist. All she wanted to do, she thought, was shake that composure to its foundations.

  Then she took hold of herself. She’d made a fool of herself once. That was bad enough. Doing it again—and in front of her sister and brother-in-law—was a triumph she was not willing to accord him.

  ‘I don’t like cheats,’ said Kit blackly. ‘I never asked you to tell me anything. You didn’t have to tell me lies.’

  ‘I didn’t.’ His smile was a caress.

  If he had but known it, that smile brought him nearer to a scalping than he had ever come in his adult life.

  ‘I just left a few bits out. But I’ll tell you anything you want to ask me.’

  Kit drew a ragged breath. Her green eyes narrowed to slits of pure venom.

  ‘All right,’ she said dangerously. ‘What were you intending when we went to the waterfall?’

  He stiffened. ‘What?’

  ‘You said—at the time you said—that you weren’t intending to seduce me. Is that true?’

  Philip was an experienced negotiator. He recognised an elephant trap when he saw one.

  ‘Kit—’

  But she was too angry to let him finish. ‘That newspaper was right when it said you were a talented operator,’ she spat. ‘Only I don’t like being on the receiving end.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Philip, beginning to lose his cool for the first time in living memory.

  Kit did not realise that she was the cause of a historical first.

  ‘I know what it was like,’ she said. ‘I was there. Being a complete idiot for your amusement.’

  He was very pale. ‘You don’t mean that.’

  She swept on. ‘Well, I hope you had a good laugh,’ she said untruthfully. ‘It’s the last you get at my expense. Goodnight.’

  She did not even notice the stares as she turned her back and left the honoured guest standing alone in the crowd. She did not see Lisa start after her with an anxious expression. She did not see Nikolai stop her.

  She stamped back to her cottage in a black fury. The beauty of the night was lost on her. For the second night in succession she did not spare the stars a glance as she strode along the beach.

  How dared he? Oh, how dared he talk to her in that patronising tone? Did he think he could pull her strings the way he pulled everyone else’s?

  Kit flung herself about the cottage, bumping into furniture and knocking over the waste-paper basket in her temper. Eventually her anger wore itself out. She found she was panting. She got herself some mineral water from the fridge and banged out onto her terrace.

  The sky was black velvet. You could almost hear the stars singing. Along the beach, the palms rattled and whispered in the breeze.

  Kit dashed a hand across her eyes. What good was a scented breeze to her? Lisa was right. The beauty of a place only made it worse when you were wretched. And she was wretched, all right. She could never remember feeling worse.

  There were steps in the sand. She heard them, though they were almost soundless, just a soft pressure of substance on dust. Whoever it was was not hurrying.

  Kit stood up. He would not dare. She went to edge of her veranda and looked.

  Philip came, soft-footed, out of the darkness. She saw the gleam of his teeth. He was smiling. How dared he smile at her after making a fool of her?

  He said quietly, ‘Kit, we can’t leave it like this.’

  ‘You can do what you like,’ she said rudely. ‘I’ve already left it. Whatever it was.’

  He said remorsefully, ‘Oh, love. I never meant to hurt you.’

  Kit blinked ferociously.

  I will not cry, she told herself. I will not. I am not sad. I am ready to kill but I am not sorry for myself.

  She said curtly, ‘You haven’t hurt me. And don’t you ever use the word love to me again.’

  There was a little shocked silence. Then he said in a constrained voice, ‘I haven’t done this for so long. I seem to be saying all the wrong things.’

  ‘Try goodnight,’ Kit advised him harshly.

  He came up to the veranda steps. She stood at the top of them, barring his way. It was childish and she knew it. But she was shaking with anger. And something more than anger. That scented breeze, damn it. It smell
ed of falling rose petals. Or was that her overheated imagination again?

  Philip gave a little nod. He turned away.

  He’s going! Kit thought in alarm.

  Only then he dived sideways. Before she had realised what he was doing, he had vaulted over the wooden balustrade.

  ‘Oh, impressive,’ mocked Kit, though in truth she was breathless. ‘I read that you like to keep fit.’

  ‘Never mind what you read.’ He prowled down the veranda to her, a tall, warm figure in the darkness. ‘Listen to me.’

  ‘Oh, have you got another story you want to peddle?’ said Kit, deceptively affable.

  But Philip had stopped trying to placate her. ‘Don’t be stupid. Everything I told you was true. OK, I left out a couple of things. What do you want? A full CV on the first date?’

  ‘It was not a date,’ Kit almost screeched.

  ‘Of course it was,’ said Philip.

  And took her in his arms.

  Oh, there were rose petals in the air all right. Rose petals and hot, hot spices and the sound of the sea. Or was it their thundering pulses? Come to think of it, which heartbeat was his and which was hers?

  When he had kissed her by the lagoon she had slid through his hands like water, shy and unprepared. In the temple he had hardly touched her. Now she was not shy and she was not unprepared. And Tatiana’s dress was no barrier.

  His hands slid under the skirt, pushing it up her body as if the sophisticated jersey dress was some old T-shirt. His breathing was ragged, urgent. He flung her dress away, not lifting his mouth from hers. His hands on her spine were possessive, as if she was his and they both knew it.

  Kit began to haul at his tie. She had never undone a man’s tie before. She did not think she even knew anyone who wore one except Nikolai. She was horribly self-conscious. But she would not stop. She could not.

  She was shaking so badly that if he had not held her clamped against his body she would have fallen.

  She gave up with the tie, dragged it over his head and threw it as hard as she could. And then she began to reach for clothes she did understand—the cool of poplin and cotton, the little mechanisms of buttons and zips; she could deal with them. Especially when she had help.

  And she had help.

  He lowered her to the wooden floor of the veranda. He was murmuring her name over and over, his mouth against her skin, as if he could not believe that she was in his arms.

  ‘Kit. My Kit.’

  Her heart contracted. Her skin felt like silk where he kissed it.

  Rose petals and spices and silk, she thought, her head spinning.

  He shifted her against his body, made her aware of his desire, and then—slowly, slowly—deepened his kiss until it seemed they were fused together.

  Kit was staggered at the depth of feeling that swept over her. Physical desire, yes. But more than that, an extraordinary sense of being at one with the universe, like the night and the wheeling stars over their heads. And so powerful, both of them.

  She surrendered her last vestige of control and let him take her out among the stars.

  It was only when she came down, shaken to the heart, she realised that she had travelled alone. She was not that innocent.

  She raised her head, immediately anxious.

  ‘What—what happened? Don’t you want me?’

  Oh, God, why did she always have to sound so pathetic?

  ‘I mean—’

  He touched a finger to her lips.

  ‘I know what you mean. I want you all right.’ His voice was strained. ‘Maybe too much. But I wasn’t prepared. I can’t protect you.’

  Kit let out a great sigh of relief. She had not realised she was holding her breath until then.

  ‘I don’t care.’

  She began to curl around him, exciting him deliberately. He groaned, but he stilled her.

  ‘I care.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘We have to be sensible. You’ll thank me tomorrow,’ he said. He sounded as if he was in pain.

  It gave Kit confidence. She gave a soft laugh. ‘But I believe in living for today. Remember?’

  He shot away from her as if she had burned him.

  ‘Enough,’ said Philip harshly.

  She stared, all the bright confidence snuffed out in an instant. He stood up and began to reach for his clothes with jerky, angry movements.

  ‘I never meant to do this. I promised myself I wouldn’t—’ he muttered.

  Kit’s skin turned from silk to ice-cold leather at the words.

  She scrambled to her feet. She was completely naked. It was the final humiliation.

  ‘Will you please go?’ she said in a wooden voice.

  He looked up as if she had startled him. Didn’t he expect me to have a voice? she thought, on the edge of hysteria.

  Too late he realised what he had said. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ said Kit, quite gently, still frozen. ‘Goodbye.’

  She went inside and closed the door. She leaned against it, shaking. She felt slightly sick. He had kissed her and held her and brought her to ecstasy. And he had never intended to make love to her.

  This was worse than making a fool of herself. This was being made a fool of by a man she had, however briefly, trusted her body to.

  This was the stuff of nightmares.

  She called Lisa and Nikolai. ‘I think I ought to go home tomorrow,’ she said. She was amazed at how steady she sounded. ‘Now that the conference is all done, you’ll prefer to be here on your own for the last few days.’

  Lisa’s protests were half-hearted. Not that it mattered. Lisa could have torn her hair and beat her breast and Kit wouldn’t have stayed a moment longer than the airline schedules imposed. She was never, ever risking coming face to face with Philip Hardesty again.

  There was only one, last blow before she left. And she was not prepared for that for a moment.

  She was waiting in the garden outside the hotel lobby for the helicopter to touch down. The azure bluebirds with their black frill tails were tearing into some fruit on the patio. Kit was glad that she was wearing her new sunglasses. Her eyes were so full of tears that she could barely see.

  Lisa had gone to fetch her a paperback for the journey. Kit’s roll-bag was on the grass at her feet. And one of the friendly hotel staff came down the steps to her.

  ‘The Englishman? You have spoken to him?’

  Kit shook her head.

  ‘He looks for you.’

  Kit swallowed hard and the brimming eyes cleared a bit. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘He asked about a trip. For you?’

  She shook her head, horrified at the way her heart clutched at the thought. ‘No, that’s impossible. I am leaving today. I am just waiting for transport.’

  He frowned, dissatisfied. ‘Excuse, please.’ He went back up the steps a good deal faster than the hotel staff normally moved.

  Kit concentrated hard on the birds. She could not remember what he had said they were called.

  A voice said in her ear, ‘Kit?’

  She whipped round.

  Philip Hardesty was wearing a pale grey suit and a perfectly laundered cream shirt. His tie was silk and his shoes almost certainly handmade. He looked the last word in international professional chic. And completely out of place in the tropical sun.

  Kit retreated.

  He said, ‘I’ve left messages.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Won’t you at least let me explain?’

  ‘No explanations necessary,’ Kit said crisply.

  ‘Yes, there are.’

  Unexpectedly he leaned forward and drew her sunglasses halfway down her nose.

  ‘Green,’ he said, as if he was answering a question.

  She stared, not knowing whether to be indignant. ‘What?’

  ‘Your eyes. I was never sure.’

  ‘My eyes?’ Kit was outraged.

  ‘And you’ve been crying.’

  ‘Of
course I haven’t.’

  He touched one gentle finger to the corner of her eye. The gentleness was nearly her undoing. He showed her the drop of moisture on the end of his finger.

  Kit bit her lip. ‘It’s the sun. It makes my eyes water,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘Of course it does,’ he said soothingly, patently disbelieving. ‘I know you don’t want to talk to me, Kit. But at least let me apologise.’

  She stiffened. ‘Apologise?’

  Please don’t let him talk about that night in the cottage when he didn’t want to make love to me. I can cope with anything else. Anything but that.

  He said ruefully, ‘I’ve been in the peace-negotiation game a long time. I know the rules and I play the odds. There’s a very small chance of someone like Rafek actually trying an abduction from the delegation itself.’

  Kit pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, glad of their protection. ‘I-is there?’

  ‘Yes. And if I’d had my wits about me there would have been no question of it this time either.’

  He touched her face as if it was precious. She flinched. His hand dropped.

  ‘I put you in danger. Unforgivable.’

  ‘You got me out of it,’ Kit pointed out. Her voice sounded stifled. ‘I forgive you.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t. It was careless and unprofessional.’

  She stretched her lips in a cruel caricature of a smile. It almost hurt.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘But I do. I was not fair to you.’

  ‘Look,’ said Kit harshly, ‘I’m not on your conscience, right? We had a nasty moment and it’s over. Forget it.’

  Philip was not deceived. ‘Look,’ he said urgently, ‘they do a day-trip on the hotel yacht. Come with me. Let’s have a whole day together. Maybe I can make you understand—’

  Kit had been reading the pamphlets in her cottage.

  ‘The honeymoon cruise?’

  Philip was taken aback. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Please.’

  He gave her that sweet, warm smile that made you feel you could see right inside him. And that he thought you were wonderful. Fraud, thought Kit, grinding her teeth.

  ‘To make up for our interrupted picnic,’ he said softly.