His Bid for a Bride

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘No?’ She was too angry at the moment to care how insulting she was being; angry at Falkner for searching her out here, angry with herself because she felt at any moment as if she might cry again, most of all angry because she knew she wanted nothing more than to launch herself into his arms, to kiss him, and be kissed back by him, until they were both senseless!

  She might also be outwardly furious at Falkner for what appeared to be his high-handedness in telling James Hurley she would no longer be working here, but what made it all the more unbearable was that inwardly she had already come to the same conclusion; she really wasn’t physically up to doing this sort of work yet, the ache in her ribs only slightly dulled by taking a couple of the pain-killers given to her when she’d left the hospital.

  Falkner had drawn in a sharp breath at her deliberate insult, his face pale now, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘No,’ he confirmed, his voice sounding as if it came over broken glass. ‘Skye, are you deliberately trying to kill yourself?’ he rasped harshly.

  Now it was Skye’s turn to pale, her eyes suddenly huge in that paleness. ‘No, of course not—’

  ‘What do you think is going to happen if one of those broken ribs moves and pierces one of your lungs?’ he cut in softly. ‘What if you’re alone in one of the stables here when it happens? What if—’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get the picture!’ she assured him exasperatedly—because once again she knew he was right.

  ‘Good.’ He nodded abruptly. ‘Now, are you going to get your things or do you want me to get them?’

  ‘I think you’ve already had enough dealings with my things, thank you very much!’ She still felt embarrassed at the thought of his having been to the hotel in London and packed her belongings for her—especially the silky underwear! ‘I’ll get my own things,’ she assured him firmly. ‘Then, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like you to drive me back to the hotel,’ she added determinedly.

  ‘No,’ he answered unhesitantly.

  Skye turned sharply on her way out of the stable. ‘What do you mean no?’ she gasped.

  ‘Exactly what I said,’ he returned calmly. ‘As I see it, you have two choices: you can either come and stay with me, or—’

  ‘I am not staying with you!’ she burst out frustratedly.

  ‘Why not?’ he taunted.

  ‘Because—because I’m not!’ she finally managed impatiently. The way she felt about him, this complete awareness she had of him, she simply couldn’t bear to be with him in such close proximity.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’ He grimaced. ‘Maybe you will find the second choice more acceptable? Belinda and Charles would love to have you stay with them until you find somewhere of your own,’ he explained at Skye’s questioning look.

  Once again she felt that prick of tears at the kindness she had encountered from the Harrington family; for all that she fought against what she considered Falkner’s arrogant high-handedness, she was also aware that he was acting out of kindness, if not personally to her, then out of his affection for her father. Belinda and Charles had also gone out of their way to be kind.

  ‘And it goes without saying that the twins are wholeheartedly for the idea of having you stay with them,’ Falkner added ruefully at her continued silence.

  She gave a shaky smile at the thought of the adorable duo; Lissa and Jemmy’s innocence, their utter delight with life, might be just what she needed right now.

  ‘Do I take it that’s a yes to the second choice?’ Falkner drawled dryly.

  ‘Yes,’ Skye confirmed huskily.

  ‘Good,’ he accepted briskly. ‘Now can we get out of here?’ he prompted tightly.

  Skye gave him a searching look. She had thought he’d looked grim and tense when he’d arrived because of the expected opposition from her to his suggestion, but perhaps there was a second reason for his strained look…?

  Until three years ago this, the stables, the noise and bustle, the unmistakable smell of horses, had been his world. Oh, he still kept a small stable at his estate, but nothing like this…

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she agreed briskly.

  Falkner didn’t even try to hide his surprise at her sudden acquiescence. ‘Did I miss something?’ He frowned.

  Skye gave him a mocking glance. ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ she dismissed. ‘Believe it or not, Falkner, I’m not completely unreasonable.’ She deliberately used a similar phrase to his earlier one.

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for that,’ he murmured dryly as he closed the stable door behind them. ‘I’ve seen little evidence of it so far,’ he added at her questioning look.

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe you haven’t been looking hard enough.’

  He chuckled softly. ‘Are you ever at a loss for words?’

  ‘I told you before—rarely,’ she instantly came back.

  Falkner gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I’ll wait in the Range Rover for you while you get your things. Oh, I almost forgot to give you this.’ He took an envelope from his denims pocket. ‘It’s only your wages, Skye,’ he explained at her wary expression. ‘James gave them to me earlier to pass on to you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She took the envelope. Her first ever wage packet—even if it was only for one day!

  Falkner nodded. ‘Apparently you were very good at your job; James said if you ever want to come back to give him a call,’ he told her dryly.

  Skye felt a warm glow at the praise. She might have been in extreme discomfort the last couple of days, but she had enjoyed working with the horses; it was nice to know her efforts had been appreciated.

  ‘Which, of course, you aren’t going to do,’ Falkner added firmly.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘I’m not?’

  He sighed. ‘Skye, with the money you will receive in seven months’ time, you could open your own stable!’

  ‘Ah.’ She nodded slowly, busying herself by putting her wage envelope in her pocket.

  Avoiding Falkner’s probing gaze was what she was really doing, she inwardly acknowledged ruefully. He was altogether too astute, too knowing, for her to actually let him see the emotions in her own expressive eyes.

  ‘Skye…?’

  Her expression was deliberately innocent as she looked up at him enquiringly.

  He frowned. ‘What are you up to…?’

  ‘Up to…?’ she repeated in a puzzled voice. ‘What on earth makes you think I’m up to something, Falkner?’

  Too far, too innocent, Skye, she instantly admonished herself as she saw Falkner’s eyes narrow speculatively at her dismissive reply.

  ‘I have a younger sister, remember,’ he said slowly, his gaze still wary.

  ‘And very nice she is, too,’ Skye answered briskly. ‘It really is very kind of Belinda and Charles to offer to let me stay with them in this way.’

  ‘They all like you very much,’ Falkner answered distractedly.

  ‘I like them too.’ She nodded, very much aware that his distraction wasn’t in the right direction; namely, away from what she was ‘up to’! ‘Shouldn’t we be on our way now if I’m to get settled in, showered and changed, before our appointment with the lawyer this afternoon?’ she prompted lightly as he still hung back.

  ‘Skye…?’

  She gave him another quizzical look. ‘Yes?’

  His eyes were narrowed. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

  She shook her head, deliberately meeting his searching gaze. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘There is something…Have you seen any more of Paul Barclay?’ he prompted abruptly.

  ‘Paul—? Oh, you mean the vet I met at the barbecue on Sunday,’ she realized dazedly. ‘No, of course I haven’t,’ she dismissed frowningly.

  ‘Do you intend seeing him again?’ Falkner persisted grimly.

  ‘Not that I’m aware.’ She shrugged, in total confusion as to what had prompted this line of questioning.

  Paul Barclay had seemed quite a pleasant man, ch
arming and friendly as well as quite good-looking. But Skye certainly had no intention of becoming involved with him. Or, indeed, anyone else. She wouldn’t be staying in the area long enough for that!

  She gave Falkner a quizzical look. ‘He was a friend of your wife’s, wasn’t he?’ she probed softly.

  Falkner’s mouth tightened. ‘One of many,’ he confirmed harshly. ‘And none of them meant a damn thing to her. Selina liked to have more than one admirer at a time,’ he explained scathingly. ‘Barclay came way down her list of male interests, I’m afraid,’ he added grimly.

  And yet Falkner’s wife had been the one to divorce him amid claims of ‘another woman’…

  ‘Well, I have no intention of seeing him again,’ Skye told Falkner sharply. ‘I’ll go and get my things and meet you at the Range Rover.’ She turned abruptly and walked off in the direction of the staff accommodation.

  Could Falkner possibly still be in love with Selina? He had been pretty definite the other day when he had assured Belinda he would never marry again. Could that be because he was still in love with his ex-wife?

  One thing Skye now knew for certain: the sooner she got away from here—from Falkner—the better!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘NO!’

  FALKNER said nothing else, no explanation, just that emphatic no!

  How dared he? Skye fumed inwardly. Just who did Falkner think he was?

  Two bright spots of angry colour burned in her cheeks as she turned to glare at him. ‘I was talking to Mr Bryant, actually,’ she bit out furiously.

  Falkner shook his head. ‘I don’t care who you were talking to—the answer is still no,’ he bit out succinctly.

  The two of them were seated in Peter Bryant’s office, facing the lawyer as he sat behind his desk. And the poor man looked totally bewildered by the antagonism that suddenly seemed to have erupted in his otherwise quiet offices.

  Peter Bryant was her father’s English lawyer, the senior partner of Bryant, Bryant and Ogilvie, Skye had discovered when they had arrived ten minutes ago, a tall, thin man in his late fifties, his hair iron-grey, his eyes a kindly brown.

  Although those eyes looked totally perplexed at the moment!

  Was that any wonder? The preliminary politeness over, Skye had just got through telling the lawyer that she needed an advance on her trust fund so that she could return to Ireland—only to have Falkner cut in on the conversation in that implacable way.

  ‘Surely it’s reasonable for Miss O’Hara to want to return to Ireland?’ the lawyer prompted now. ‘If only to settle her affairs,’ he added with a sympathetic smile in her direction.

  ‘If that were the reason Skye were going back, it would be perfectly reasonable,’ Falkner allowed grimly, dressed formally this afternoon in a dark suit and snowy white shirt, his grey tie knotted precisely at his throat. ‘But that isn’t the reason—is it?’ he prompted, blue eyes hard as he refused to let her drop her gaze from his.

  Too astute. Too knowing.

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘I—’

  ‘The truth, Skye,’ Falkner warned softly. ‘Peter may not know you as well as I do, but I can assure you he isn’t going to be best pleased when he finds out you’ve deceived him about why you want this money.’

  ‘He’s my uncle, Falkner!’ she defended fiercely.

  Originally she had intended doing all she could to help her uncle Seamus when the money came to her in seven months’ time, at the same time realizing it might be too late by then, and Falkner’s suggestion that she could have an advance on the trust fund had seemed heaven-sent…

  Except that Falkner had obviously realized exactly why she wanted the money!

  ‘He’s my uncle, Falkner,’ she repeated huskily, her hands clasped tightly together. ‘I could use that money to help him—’

  ‘And do you think that’s what your father intended it to be used for?’ he cut in softly.

  Probably not, if, as Falkner had claimed, he had set up the trust fund for her after he had known of her uncle’s embezzlement. But, at the same time, her father couldn’t have just expected her to sit back and let her uncle go to prison without at least trying to help him, either!

  She straightened, her chin raised determinedly. ‘My father would have expected me to do what was right,’ she said firmly.

  Falkner’s expression softened slightly as he looked at her. ‘Yes, he would,’ he acknowledged gently. ‘Just as he expected me to do what was right, too—’

  ‘My father would never condone your allowing his brother to go to prison without at least putting up some sort of fight!’ Skye turned on him heatedly.

  Falkner met her gaze unflinchingly for several seconds before turning to the other man. ‘Peter, would you read out the last provision of Connor’s will?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Peter Bryant hastened to agree as he put on a pair of half-glasses.

  The poor man looked pleased to have something official to do in the face of all the emotion he had been subjected to the last few minutes, Skye noted ruefully.

  ‘“Lastly, I give to my good friend, Falkner Harrington, all my shares in his possession in order that he might sell them and use the sale proceeds to aid my brother, Seamus O’Hara, should the need arise”,’ he read evenly, before looking at Skye over the top of his glasses. ‘That would be the uncle you were referring to?’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed huskily, unable to even look at Falkner now.

  She should have known her father wouldn’t have just abandoned her uncle Seamus, should have realized that he would make some sort of provision for his older brother.

  ‘It’s already taken care of, Skye,’ Falkner told her quietly. ‘A lawyer has already been hired to represent your uncle. Your father had already paid back as much of the money as he could, and the sale of the estate and other assets should take care of the rest of it. Taking all that into account, plus the fact that your uncle sought out the police himself and confessed, the lawyer seems to think that your uncle may get away with a light sentence.’

  Skye’s relief at hearing all this was immense. But at the same time she couldn’t help wondering why Falkner hadn’t told her all of this earlier…

  ‘In the circumstances, will you still be requiring the same amount of money, Miss O’Hara?’ Peter Bryant prompted formally.

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘No—’

  Skye looked frowningly at Falkner as they both answered at the same time, she in the affirmative, Falkner in the negative.

  ‘Whether here—or in Ireland,’ she added wryly, ‘I’m going to need money to buy a house, and to keep myself, until I decide what—what I’m going to do with the rest of my life,’ she concluded flatly; because any life she made for herself wouldn’t include Falkner!

  Falkner’s mouth tightened. ‘And I think it’s far too early for you to be making any of those decisions,’ he rasped.

  ‘It wasn’t too early for you to ask me to marry you!’ she returned hotly.

  There it was again, that ‘something’ that kept niggling in the back of her mind, that ‘something’ that didn’t add up, that ‘something’ she couldn’t quite get straight in her mind, that ‘something’ that didn’t quite make sense…

  None of this made sense! Not one single thing had since the moment her father had died!

  ‘Never mind. Forget I said that,’ she dismissed impatiently, bending to pick up her bag before standing up. ‘I’ll have to come back and see you some other time, Mr Bryant,’ she told him heavily, grimacing slightly as she saw his shocked expression. ‘I’m afraid I can’t think straight just now—’

  ‘Exactly,’ Falkner concurred grimly, also standing up.

  She turned to him with pained eyes. ‘You’re most of the reason I can’t think straight,’ she told him shakily. ‘You say one thing, and do another, and I—’ She stopped abruptly as her voice broke emotionally. ‘I have to get out of here!’ She turned and made a bolt for the door.

  As she had known he wou
ld, Falkner caught up with her once she was outside on the pavement, but that didn’t stop her flinching as his arm moved protectively about her waist as he guided her to the Range Rover.

  She turned and buried her head against his shoulder, the tears falling hotly down her cheeks.

  ‘This doesn’t get any easier, does it?’ he murmured gently, stopping beside the Range Rover to gather her fully into his arms.

  Skye shook her head wordlessly, wishing she could just stay here for ever, safe in Falkner’s arms.

  ‘You know, it might be a little less—painful, if you stopped fighting me.’ Falkner spoke softly into the hair at her temple. ‘Don’t you know yet that I would never do anything that would harm you?’

  ‘I do know,’ she assured him huskily. ‘I just—’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand—’

  ‘It’s too soon, Skye,’ he comforted gently. ‘And from what you just said in Peter Bryant’s office, I didn’t help to make it any less confusing by asking you to marry me,’ he murmured self-derisively. ‘Forget I ever mentioned the subject, hmm?’

  That didn’t help to make her feel in the least better—because if Falkner had repeated the marriage proposal right now, she knew she would have accepted, and just hoped that one day he might come to love her!

  ‘Of course.’ She pulled out of his arms, her gaze not quite able to meet his. ‘Could we just go back to Belinda’s now? I think I need a little time to myself.’

  ‘I don’t think you stand too much chance of that with the Terrible Twins around!’ Falkner teased as he unlocked the car doors, seeing her safely settled inside before going round to get in behind the wheel.

  It wasn’t time away from the twins she needed, or even Belinda and Charles; it was Falkner that always threw her into such confusion…

  Belinda and Charles couldn’t have been more welcoming when Skye and Falkner arrived at their home a short time later, Belinda taking her up the stairs to the room she would be using during her stay so that she could change.