Edwina turned to him with a smile. ‘Don’t be autocratic, darling. Just because we all know you’re a swine, there’s no need to go around pretending to be Bluebeard.’
‘I don’t think he’s pretending at all,’ Lucy said tartly before she could stop herself, and glared at Randal.
James laughed, blue eyes dancing. ‘Well, well, well! So your love affair has been quite a battlefield.’ He leant forwards and kissed Lucy’s cheek. ‘Welcome to this family of ambitious misfits, my dear. We none of us truly belong here. None except Randal, of course.’
Edwina said, ‘And now Lucy is about to join us. What are your plans, my dear? Will you take a leaf out of Lady Eve Mallory’s book and help your husband in his ruthless pursuit of money and power?’
‘Who was Lady Eve?’ Lucy asked, frowning.
‘Her portrait hangs on the stairs,’ Edwina told her. ‘The blonde beauty with rather wicked green eyes. She was married to Lord Anthony—the Highwayman.’
‘They had a very interesting love-life,’ Randal drawled, a hard smile curving his mouth. ‘Lady Eve used to pretend to be his doxy.’
‘Doxy?’ Lucy frowned, mystified.
‘It’s another word for mistress,’ Randal said softly, eyes mocking her.
Hot colour flooded her cheeks.
‘Randal, such language!’ Edwina sighed, shaking her red head.
‘Sorry, Mama,’ Randal drawled. ‘I was teasing my innocent fiancée. I find her blushes irresistible. They make me want to say wicked things to her.’
Lucy’s blush increased to scarlet.
Edwina smiled at her, then deftly said, ‘When exactly is the wedding, Randal? You said you’d selected a date—’
‘August the first,’ he said coolly, handing Lucy her drink, a small martini, his fingers brushing hers and making her jump visibly.
‘August the first!’ Lucy said, taken aback. It was only three weeks away!
‘You remember, darling,’ Randal murmured. ‘I’m sure I told you.’
She just stared at him. He knew perfectly well that they had never discussed a date.
‘As Lucy’s mother is no longer alive, I thought you might like to help her with the wedding arrangements, Mama,’ Randal told his mother coolly.
Edwina looked at her. ‘Would you like my help, Lucy? Please don’t be afraid to say no. I don’t wish to interfere in—’
‘I’d welcome your help, to be honest,’ Lucy said with a faint, wry smile. ‘I’ve never organised a wedding before, and have no idea where to start.’
‘How marvellous!’ Edwina said, smiling. ‘In that case, I’d be delighted to help. Where would you like to hold the wedding? In London? Or here? Or is there somewhere else?’
Lucy hesitated. She thought of London, of her home and her life there, and all she could feel was darkness; the memories of slowly drowning and being unable to save herself still too vivid in her mind.
‘I think I’d like to hold it here,’ she said slowly, frowning, amazed to hear herself voice it.
‘Good,’ Randal said softly, watching her through those carved eyelids. ‘I’d hoped you’d say that.’
Her green eyes darted to his face. Her heart skipped a beat. She watched him through her lashes, her eyes intense, and wondered what life would truly be like as his wife.
Later, as they drove back to London, she thought of the speed with which all this was happening and shivered. Her life was almost unrecognisable, and every change seemed to trace inexorably back to Randal, and their first meeting at the casino.
‘So how did Edward take the news?’ Randal drawled with a barbed smile as the car sped towards the lights of London.
Lucy looked at him, startled. ‘Edward...’ She realised she had almost forgotten him tonight while in Randal’s mesmerising company.
‘I take it you told him,’ he said mockingly. ‘Was there a passionate kiss accompanied by tears and vicious comments about me?’
‘What do you expect?’ she asked, deliberately trying to get at him, her eyes dark. ‘I’m in love with Edward. He’s in love with me. You’ve effectively torn us apart.’
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he smiled lazily. ‘So long as there are no more passionate kisses and tearful scenes. You’re mine now, remember. I won’t have you seeing him, Lucy. At least not until the wedding reception.’
‘I doubt I shall ever see him again,’ she flung accusingly. ‘He was so hurt he couldn’t bring himself to stay once he knew I was marrying you.’
‘My heart bleeds for him!’ he drawled in a barbed voice.
‘He was strong and very noble about the whole thing!’ she said hoarsely. ‘And you have no right to laugh at him! He certainly behaved with more decency than you ever have!’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Strong and noble? What do you mean?’
She looked away at night-lit London, the orange street lamps flashing past as they left the motorway and drove on to the wide four-lane road that led to the city.
‘He said we had to make a clean break,’ she told him resentfully. ‘That it would be easier that way for both of us.’
‘Do you mean he’s disappeared?’ Randal asked slowly. ‘For good?’
Her eyes threw hatred at him. ‘I’m sure you’re delighted!’
He frowned, narrowed eyes on the road as he drove in silence, and Lucy looked away from him, her mouth trembling. She hated him for laughing at Edward like that. After what he’d done—didn’t he have any sense of guilt?
If only Edward had married me, she thought again, aching inside. Why didn’t he? Why did he insist on waiting until the crash came...?’
A frown touched her brow and she felt those questions pushing at her again. Why had Edward waited? Why had he not warned her that the crash was just around the corner? And why had he maintained for so long that she was nervous, highly strung, unable to cope with reality...?
Uncomfortable feelings rose up in her, fluttering at her like black butterflies, and she pushed them away, pushed them down, refusing to look at them.
Edward had been her friend—Randal was her enemy.
It was as simple as that...wasn’t it?
CHAPTER SEVEN
LUCY didn’t see Randal alone again for the next three weeks. He was always on the periphery of life, it seemed. Taking her to Newmarket to see a race, driving her down to Mallory at weekends to see Edwina, dropping by at the Saxons’ to check on her father...but never alone with her. Not once in three weeks did he kiss her, touch her, pay her any romantic attention.
Of course, she began to hunger for his kiss. Frequently, she would catch herself staring through her lashes fixedly, staring at his mouth, longing to feel it against hers again. It began to drive her mad. Did he want her still? The wedding was going ahead; all the invitations had been sent out, the caterers hired, the dress was in preparation—yet Randal had totally distanced himself from her.
In an effort to forget her confusing feelings towards Randal, Lucy buried herself in the wedding arrangements. She handed in her notice at the kindergarten, and was relieved when they found a replacement almost immediately. She also became very friendly with Edwina.
‘Of course, Randal was always ambitious,’ Edwina sighed one night. ‘But even I had no idea he would become this wealthy, this influential.’
‘Are you pleased, though?’ Lucy asked with a frown. They were lounging in the drawing-room of Mallory at midnight, surrounded by wedding paraphernalia, the floor strewn with sketches and lists.
‘Very pleased,’ Edwina said softly. ‘Especially as he’s marrying you. He’s thirty-three now. Time he formed a family, settled down, had children. After all—what’s the point of all his ambition and hard work if he has no one to leave it to at the end?’
Lucy’s green eyes clouded. ‘He does work awfully hard...’
‘Much too hard,’ Edwina agreed.
‘I’ve barely seen him since we got engaged,’ Lucy confessed, frowning, angrily aware that it sounded as thou
gh she missed Randal, which of course was nonsense. She hated him.
‘My dear, don’t worry that he’s been too busy to see much of you lately. He’s just trying to get everything out of the way in time for the honeymoon.’
Lucy thought of the honeymoon, and felt her heart skip massive beats at the thought of him making love to her. She hated herself for wanting him, but could not fight the gradual injection of him into her bloodstream. Like a drug, he was now becoming necessary to her. And his absence only made her need stronger.
The wedding day dawned bright and sunny. Lucy had stayed overnight at Mallory in the west wing. Edwina arrived to help her dress. She felt like a sacrifice.
Her blonde hair was pinned up in a cascade of silvery curls, pearl and diamond earrings glittering at her lobes, a pearl and diamond tiara holding the long antique lace veil in place.
‘You look lovely,’ Edwina said, a tear in her eye.
The dress was a fitted satin off the shoulder gown. Tiny white satin rosebuds lined the décollatage, the cut of the dress accentuating her slender hourglass curves, the long train sweeping behind her as she walked down the stairs of the west wing and stepped into the white limousine with her father, who looked splendid in a grey morning suit and top hat.
‘You’ve made me proud,’ Gerald Winslow said, clutching her hand as they drove to the church. ‘And so very happy. Without you, none of this would be possible. My job, my son-in-law, my financial salvation...’ His pale eyes searched hers anxiously. ‘Darling—you will be happy with Randal, won’t you?’
Pain shone in her green eyes. ‘I’ll be very happy.’ What else could she say? He wasn’t strong enough to hear the truth. And what good would it do to tell him?
Sunlight streamed across the altar through stained glass saints, the scent of orange blossom permeating the village church. Lucy walked up the aisle on her father’s arm, trembling with nerves.
Randal turned as the music swelled. He looked magnificent in a grey morning suit, his dark hair haloed by the sun, his blue eyes penetratingly intense. As she reached the altar, her father stepped aside with a proud smile, handing her to the man who was to replace him as the strongest male love in her life. The tragedy was the way he looked down at her, his face hard and somehow austere, only the blaze of the blue eyes betraying any emotion whatever. He did not love her, nor she him.
As they turned to the altar, the sun streamed through the blood of a martyr, casting a warm red glow on Lucy’s face. The music stopped, a hush descended on the church, and the priest began to speak, his voice deep and calm as it echoed among the stone walls and arches. Lucy repeated her vows, not glancing at Randal, and when he spoke his voice sent shivers through her.
He was turning to her, taking her left hand, the cold metal of a platinum ring gliding on to her finger, and her eyes shot to his, brilliant green with passionate awareness of her helplessness against him.
He met that gaze with powerful intensity, and his hands lifted the veil, his dark head bending as though in slow motion until that hard mouth closed over hers in a brief, searing kiss.
‘I’ve won,’ he said under his breath, and the glitter of mocking triumph in his eyes made her blood stir.
Bells rang out. They were walking down the aisle, man and wife. People clustered around them as they stood on the green in brilliant hot sunlight. Photographs were taken. Ducks and swans glided across the pond on the village green opposite the church. Cars glittered expensively along the lane.
They drove to Mallory for the reception, in a white limousine decked with silk ribbons. Randal studied her with a certain feudal pride in his new possession.
‘You look so lovely,’ he said softly, blue eyes moving over her. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to undress you more than I do at this moment.’
Anger and excitement flared in her eyes. He had barely been near her for three weeks...she wanted badly to be kissed by him and knew it showed in her face...
‘Slowly,’ he said, leaning towards her, a hand under her chin. ‘Very slowly...and with infinite care. You excite me unbearably. Mistress Lucy...my little doxy...’ He laughed softly, his mouth close to hers. ‘I could make love to you until doomsday!’
‘Oh, yes?’ she asked thickly, eyes flashing. ‘Then why haven’t you wanted to kiss me for three weeks?’
There was an abrupt silence. Hot colour flooded her face as she realised what she’d said. Then she saw Randal’s slow, mocking, triumphant smile.
‘And you’re angry about that, aren’t you?’ he mocked, his mouth close to hers. ‘You want me to kiss you...don’t you?’
Lucy shivered, her lips parting in unconscious invitation.
‘Ask for a kiss,’ he taunted her, mouth brushing hers tormentingly. ‘Or you won’t get one.’
‘Go to hell!’ she choked out, heart pounding with desire.
‘Remember last time we kissed?’ he said under his breath. ‘On the bed at Newmarket?’
She breathed faster, eyes dilating.
‘How frustrated you were then,’ he mocked, his mouth tantalising her deliberately, kissing her lightly, moving away, never unleashing the full force of his passion. ‘How you writhed and twisted and tore at my shirt. And I haven’t touched you since then, have I? Not once.’ His mouth tormented her, his hand stroking her naked throat as the blood pulsed round her body. ‘How frustrated are you now, Lucy? How much do you want me to make love to you? How much...?’
‘I hate you!’ she whispered hoarsely, mouth shaking. ‘Kiss me!’
He stared for a moment, passion blazing in his eyes, then he bent his head and kissed her hungrily, a rough gasp in his throat as his hands pulled her slender curved body against him in the luxurious rear of the car.
Her hands were in his dark hair; she was gasping with desire, her mouth moving hungrily against his, oblivious to everything but his kiss, her heart pounding as they slid together.
‘Missed me?’ he asked thickly against her passionate mouth.
‘No!’ she denied hotly, fingers threading through his black hair. ‘I was glad to be rid of you...glad...’
His mouth closed hungrily over hers again and she moaned, sliding back against the seat as he obliterated her, his strong hands moving over her body in the satin dress, making her heart pound violently as she welcomed him with reckless, blazing, intolerable passion.
Suddenly, he raised his head, darkly flushed.
Slowly, it dawned on Lucy that the car had been stationary outside Mallory for some time. The chauffeur was sitting in discreet silence. The butler was standing outside the car, waiting expressionlessly.
‘We’d better go in,’ Randal drawled thickly, ‘or they may start without us.’
Lucy was silent with shock as he moved away from her, straightening his tie, running a hand through his hair. How could she have been so passionately involved with that kiss? She hadn’t even noticed the car stop.
Randal motioned with a cool hand for the car door to be opened, and it was. They went inside. Other guests arrived. The ballroom filled up, people taking their places at the long series of beautifully laid tables while champagne was served with the wedding breakfast.
Gerald Winslow’s speech was brilliantly received, his head held high as he held his audience captivated, and Lucy watched him with a prick of tears in her eyes.
The tables were moved aside. Randal whirled her away to dance. The touch of his hard body against hers was like fire as she moved in his arms, tense, silent, pulses beating.
‘I notice a distinct lack of accountants at this wedding,’ Randal drawled in her ear as they danced.
Her eyes shot to his accusingly. ‘I sent him an invitation but he didn’t reply. After the way he was treated, I don’t blame him.’
‘You wouldn’t blame him if he stuck a knife in your ribs,’ he said flatly, eyes hardening. ‘According to you, Edward Blair can do no wrong.’
‘That’s unfair! He stepped aside very gracefully when you forced me into this marri
age.’
‘A little too gracefully for my liking,’ Randal said flatly. ‘And I’m not impressed by his continuing grace. If I’d been in his position, I would have at least put up a fight to keep you, if not actually punched my rival in the face. But he didn’t do anything. Not a damned thing.’
‘Edward genuinely loved me,’ she said fiercely, hands curling on his broad shoulders. ‘That’s why he went away and stayed away.’
‘And I suppose that’s why he ignored his wedding invitation?’ he sneered. ‘Yes, I can quite see that. One always totally ignores the people one genuinely loves.’
Hot colour flooded her face. She wanted to hit him. ‘He must be in agony,’ she said thickly. ‘His life has been destroyed by you. He’s lost everything he had—a job, a family and a future.’
‘Really?’ he drawled unpleasantly. ‘That must be why he’s spent the last three weeks moving into a luxury apartment on Park Lane, buying a black Lamborghini and being seen out on the town with a sexy redhead every night.’
He broke away from her as the music ended, hard mockery in his eyes as he saw her shocked white face.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she whispered, appalled.
He looked at her for a second, then turned and walked away from her, leaving her stranded on the dance floor, almost swaying under the shock of what he had said.
It couldn’t be true...couldn’t. The implications were horrific. Like a ghost, she found herself walking to her father. He was the centre of attention, standing among a group of wealthy socialites, talking about his life as social secretary to the Saxons, telling racing anecdotes and dropping names.
‘Father...’ Her white hand touched his arm, her eyes enormous as she looked into his face. ‘I must speak to you.’
‘What is it, darling?’ Concern shone in his eyes and he at once moved aside to speak privately.
‘Have you heard anything from Edward?’
He shook his pale head, frowning. ‘Nothing, darling. I thought he’d turn up for this, but of course—’
‘Father, what was his financial position?’ she asked, dry-mouthed.
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