Kitabı oku: «Taming the Rebel Tycoon», sayfa 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘I DON’T understand,’ Tina protested, puzzled.

Richard brushed a strand of silky blonde hair away from her cheek with his free hand and said, ‘It’s over three weeks since I first saw you.’

‘Three weeks?’

‘I was visiting Cartel Wines when I caught sight of you coming out of De Vere’s office. I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen and I knew I had to have you…’

She was still endeavouring to catch her breath when he went on, ‘Unfortunately, the following day I was forced to travel to the Far East on an extremely important business trip, so I couldn’t follow things through myself.

‘However, I had some checks made and, finding you were free, I discussed getting married with the Reverend Peter, who made all the necessary arrangements—’

Completely flabbergasted, she protested, ‘But you hadn’t even spoken to me. How could you be so sure I’d marry you?’

‘I couldn’t be sure, of course…’ With a trace of arrogance, he added, ‘But I usually get what I want.’

She could easily believe it. Especially when it came to women.

‘The trip dragged on until the middle of last week,’ he continued, ‘but for the first time in my life I found I couldn’t keep my mind on business matters. I kept thinking about you, planning how to meet you when I got back.’

‘And then we met by accident…’ But, even as she said the words, some sixth sense made her wonder—had running into her been an accident?

Oh, don’t be a fool, she chided herself. What man in his right mind would do such a thing deliberately when there were plenty of other ways he could have met her?

For instance, if he’d wanted to get to know her so badly, why hadn’t he spoken to her in the car park at midday, while she had been disposing of her ruined lunch? It would have been a perfect opportunity.

Or, failing that, surely the next time he visited Cartel Wines he could have made some excuse to—

No, she wouldn’t have been there.

Though he couldn’t have known that she was leaving.

Or could he?

Somewhere at the back of her mind, a memory, an impression, tried to struggle to the surface and she knew that if she could only recall what it was she would have the answer to her question.

She was still cudgelling her brains when Richard glanced at his watch and said briskly, ‘We ought to be starting for home. You must be famished and, as we’re being married tomorrow, we have a lot to do.’

Though she wanted to marry him more than anything in the world, a vague uneasiness still nagging at her, a feeling that something wasn’t quite right, she began, ‘I don’t understand why we have to rush into it like this…Couldn’t we wait until—?’

Just for an instant his beautiful mouth tightened. Then he said coaxingly, ‘You’ve agreed to marry me, we have a priest, a chapel and a marriage licence, so why wait?’

‘I’ve nothing to wear,’ she pointed out. ‘I need to go back to the flat and fetch some clothes—’

He bent his dark head and kissed her mouth, nipping delicately at her bottom lip, distracting her, as he whispered, ‘I’d rather have you without any clothes.’

Trying to collect herself and sound severe, she began, ‘That’s all very well, but I must have something to get married in—’

‘Failing anything else, you could always wear the dress you wore to dinner last night.’

‘But it got marked when we walked though the tunnel,’ she pleaded.

‘I’ll ask Hannah to see that all your things are laundered and we’ll make time to buy you a whole new wardrobe before we go on our honeymoon.’

Diverted, she asked, ‘Are we going on honeymoon?’

He looked surprised. ‘Of course. I thought we’d stick with the old tradition of spending our wedding night at Anders, in the nuptial bed…’

The nuptial bed… A little shiver of excitement ran down her spine.

‘Then go on to our chosen honeymoon destination the following day.’

It all sounded so solid, so conventional, that, her uneasiness taking flight, she teased, ‘I dare say you’ve already got it all arranged?’

He grinned appreciatively. ‘’Fraid not. I decided to find out where you wanted to go before I made any definite plans.’

‘How long will we be going for?’

‘A month. Longer if you wish…’

There was no harm in delaying the showdown; in fact it might be all to the good to allow a breathing space while they really got to know one other.

‘So, if you’d like to give it some thought and let me know,’ he added, ‘I’ll have Murray standing by.’

‘Murray?’

‘Captain Murray Tyler. I have a small private jet.’

That casual mention of owning his own plane made Tina realise afresh what a wealthy man she was marrying. But it wasn’t his money or his lifestyle that had attracted her. She would still have married him if he hadn’t had a penny.

‘We’d best be moving.’ He stood up and, taking her hands, pulled her to her feet. ‘Matthew Caradine, my solicitor, is coming at two o’clock.’

Surprised, she said, ‘On a Sunday?’

‘There are one or two things that need to be settled before tomorrow,’ he told her casually.

When they had both donned their riding hats, he lifted her into the saddle, swung himself up behind her and a moment later they were heading for home at a canter.

Admittedly it hadn’t been quite as easy as he might have hoped, but he had achieved what he’d set out to achieve. Tomorrow he would be her husband; he would be in a much stronger position once she’d signed the marriage contract that Matthew Caradine had drawn up.

When lunch was over Richard asked for coffee to be served in their suite and, an arm around Tina’s waist, escorted her up the stairs.

Once their coffee cups were empty, he said seriously, ‘When we get married I shall use the wedding ring my mother bought my father…’

Knowing that some men preferred to hide the fact that they were married, Tina was only too pleased that Richard wasn’t one of them.

‘Until we have time to go and choose your rings,’ he was going on, ‘I’d like you to use my mother’s. If you’re quite happy with that?’

‘Are you sure she wouldn’t have minded?’

‘I’m certain. It was her stated intention to give her rings to my future wife—should she want them, that is.’

A warm feeling spreading inside, Tina assured him, ‘Then, if they fit, I’d love to wear them.’

‘Of course I’m talking about the rings my father bought her. Bradley, who apparently was very jealous, hated to see her wearing them, so when they were married she took them off and kept them in her secret drawer along with my father’s wedding ring…’

He went over to the writing desk where, placed centrally above several small drawers faced with oyster shell and inlaid with box, their handles made of mother-of-pearl, was a shallow recess.

Tina watched with undisguised interest as, a hand at either end, he reached into the space and a moment later what had appeared to be a solid back slid forward to reveal a drawer some thirty centimetres long, twenty wide and ten deep.

From it he took a small box covered in dark blue velvet and flicked open the lid to show a heavy gold signet ring, a delicate chased gold wedding band and an exquisite matching diamond solitaire.

‘Her fingers were very slim, like yours, so I think they’ll fit.’

He took out the solitaire and, lifting Tina’s strong but slender left hand with its pearly oval nails, slid it on to the fourth finger.

It fitted perfectly and she caught her breath as the huge stone flashed with internal fire.

Nodding his approval, Richard replaced the box containing both the wedding rings and sent the secret drawer sliding back into the recess. It seemed to catch slightly before finally settling into place.

The long-case clock in the corner was just striking two o’clock and at that instant Milly tapped at the door to announce that the solicitor had arrived.

‘Coming?’ Richard cocked an eyebrow at Tina.

‘I thought I’d stay here while you—’

He shook his head firmly. ‘There’s one thing that concerns you.’

‘What kind of thing?’ she asked as they made their way back downstairs.

‘We need to agree on a suitable settlement in the event of a divorce.’

A cold chill ran down her spine. ‘Oh, but I—’

Seeing that involuntary shiver, he said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, it’s just a formality. But it’s something that has to be gone through.’

The solicitor was waiting in the study. Almost as tall as Richard but a good deal heavier, he was a pleasant-looking middle-aged man with greying hair and jowls.

‘Good of you to come at such short notice,’ Richard said as the two men shook hands.

He turned to Tina and, drawing her forward, went on, ‘Darling, this is Matthew Caradine…Matthew, my fiancée, Valentina Dunbar.’

The solicitor took Tina’s proffered hand with a friendly smile and said, ‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss Dunbar…’

Then, to Richard, ‘I’ve drawn up the necessary documents to cover all the points you mentioned.’

‘Good.’

‘There’s really only the one pertaining to your marriage that concerns Miss Dunbar and, as you requested, I’ve kept it simple. So, if you’d like to get that out of the way first?’

At Richard’s nod he opened his black briefcase and, taking out a single sheet of paper, handed it to Tina. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to read that and, if you’re satisfied with the contents, sign it?’

She took the document and, sitting down in one of the armchairs, proceeded to read it while the two men stood and watched her in silence.

It was, as the solicitor had said, short and simple. It stated that if, for whatever reason, they were divorced, while Richard would be happy to buy her a house and pay her maintenance—the amount was so generous it made her blink—she had to relinquish any claim to the castle.

It further stated that if there were children from the marriage, in the event of a separation, their father would be responsible for their upbringing and they would remain in his care.

Having read it through twice, she put it down on the coffee table and said flatly, ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t sign this.’

She saw Richard’s jaw tighten and a white line appear round his mouth.

It was a moment before he asked evenly, ‘Why not?’

‘With regard to the castle…’ she began.

For a split second he looked so angry that she cringed inwardly and the words died on her lips.

Then that look was gone and, his voice quiet and controlled, he queried, ‘What about the castle?’

‘I—I was just going to say that there’s no question that it belongs to you. I would never dream of—’

She glimpsed what might have been relief, before he broke in, ‘So what exactly is the problem?’

Well aware that he might not marry her if she refused to toe the line, she took a deep breath and told him, ‘There’s no way I would be prepared to give up my children…’

A flicker of some emotion she was unable to decipher crossed his face before he said, ‘Then perhaps we could agree on joint custody?’

‘How do you mean, exactly?’

‘I mean that if we separated, they could live with you but I would have unlimited access and an equal right to a say in their upbringing. Would you be happy with that arrangement?’

‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘Though I hope it will never come to that.’

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘With you as my wife, I’m sure it won’t.’

Caradine came forward and, picking up the document, sat down at the desk. ‘As you’re both in agreement, I’ll amend it immediately.’

The amendment completed, he suggested, ‘If you’d both be good enough to read it and put your signatures at the bottom?’

That done to his satisfaction, he replaced the paper in his briefcase and took out several more. ‘Now, for the remainder of the business…’

Tina got to her feet. ‘If you don’t need me any longer, I’ll go and leave you to it.’

A detaining hand on her arm, Richard asked, ‘What were you thinking of doing?’

A little surprised by the barely concealed urgency of his manner, she said, ‘It’s such a lovely day I thought I might go for a stroll along the battlements and enjoy the view.’

His fingers relaxed their grip and, dropping a light kiss on her lips, he said, ‘What a good idea…While you’re up there, give some thought to our honeymoon. Try and decide where you’d like to go and what you’d like to see…

‘By the time you’ve gone full circle,’ he added, ‘I should be finished here. Then, after I’ve seen Matthew off, we can go and talk to the Reverend Peter and make some precise arrangements for tomorrow.’

She smiled and nodded, then thanked the solicitor and shook hands with him, before going out and closing the door quietly behind her.

Having crossed the deserted hall, where the sun threw elaborate patterns of the leaded windows on to the polished oak floorboards, she made her way to the tower they had ascended the previous evening and climbed the stone stairway.

Emerging on to the castle walls, she paused to look down into the courtyard, which was asymmetrically painted with deep shadows and bright sunshine. A sleek blue Jaguar, no doubt Matthew Caradine’s, was drawn up by the main entrance.

Though Richard had tried hard to get her to focus on their wedding day and honeymoon, as she began to walk slowly along the sunny battlements, her mind went back over the past half hour and the little scene that had taken place in his study.

Why had he deemed it necessary to insist that she should relinquish any claim to the castle?

And why had he been so angry when he’d thought that she was refusing to? Because, clearly, that was what he had thought.

Which was absurd.

Even if she’d wanted to, which she never would, how could she possibly lay claim to something that had belonged to his family for generations?

Giving up the puzzle for the time being, she moved at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying the view and the fresh air, the warmth of the sunshine,

She had almost completed the circuit when she became aware of something hovering on the edge of her consciousness. Something nebulous and insubstantial, yet oddly persistent.

Instinctively she knew that it was the same thing that had troubled her that morning as she’d sat by the river with Richard.

After struggling, and once again failing, to identify it, she realised that it was useless to rack her brains and gave up trying.

No doubt it would crystallize eventually.

A glance down into the courtyard below showed that the solicitor’s Jaguar had disappeared, but there was no sign of Richard.

Thinking he might have returned to his study, she made her way there and put her head round the door. Though there were still papers spread on the desk, the room was empty.

As she turned to leave, she noticed the file she had knocked off the desk that morning and paused as a fleeting picture, an image she couldn’t pin down, came into her mind, convincing her that that held the answer to whatever had been troubling her.

She went in, leaving the door ajar, and opened the file.

It contained various emails and papers that Richard had roughly gathered together, along with a brown envelope from which some photographs were protruding.

The top one showed part of a woman’s face, which looked oddly familiar. Curiosity having prompted Tina to pull it out and take a better look, she found she was staring down at a very good likeness of herself.

There were several more, all taken—judging by the background—at CartelWines, and all taken without her knowledge.

She felt uncomfortable, exposed, spied on.

But, even as she stared at them, she knew that the photographs weren’t the solution to what had been niggling at her.

A second or two later, catching sight of a logo on one of the papers, she had her answer. That was what she had glimpsed earlier in the morning and subconsciously registered.

It was a stylized representation of a mountain that she recognised as the distinctive shape of the Matterhorn.

She was still gazing down at it, her mind racing, when the door was pushed open and Richard walked in.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting. I was just seeing Caradine off when Hannah told me that the new Estate Manager wanted a word—’

Noticing the open file, he stopped speaking abruptly and his eyes caught and held hers.

Knowing she couldn’t really justify her prying, Tina’s eyes were the first to drop.

‘Find what you were looking for?’ he enquired sardonically.

‘As a matter of fact, I did.’ Then, taking the bull by the horns, she asked bluntly, ‘What exactly is your connection with the Matterhorn group?’

Just as bluntly he answered, ‘I own it.’

So that explained his presence at Cartel Wines.

Gathering herself, she challenged, ‘When I talked about Cartel Wines being taken over by Matterhorn, you didn’t tell me you owned it.’

‘No,’ he agreed calmly.

‘Why didn’t you?’ she persisted.

‘After you’d just lost your job because of the takeover, it didn’t seem to be quite the right time,’ he answered quizzically.

‘Well, I still think you should have told me.’

‘What difference would it have made?’

None really, she admitted silently. It wasn’t as if he’d been trying to hide the fact that he owned the Matterhorn group. Once she had asked him, he’d answered without a moment’s hesitation.

So why did she feel as if she’d been bamboozled, as if he’d been deliberately keeping it from her?

But what possible reason could he have had for not telling her?

After a moment she recalled the doubts that had entered her mind that morning as they’d sat by the river bank.

Suppose the accident hadn’t been an accident? Suppose, on returning from his business trip and visiting Cartel Wines, he’d discovered that she was leaving that evening for good. Could he have thought it urgent enough to stage an ‘accident’ so he could get to know her?

No, surely not.

For one thing, in the pitch-dark he couldn’t have known who he was running into.

Unless he’d been following her. Keeping an eye on her. Recalling that disturbing sensation of being watched, she shivered.

No, she was just being ridiculous. If he had discovered at the last minute that she was leaving, all he would have needed to do was make himself known and offer her a place on the new team. That way he would have had all the time in the world to get to know her.

So why on earth should he need to take such drastic action? It didn’t make sense.

All the same, she found herself saying accusingly, ‘You knew I was leaving Cartel Wines that night.’

‘You told me,’ he pointed out.

‘You must have known before that.’

He lifted a dark brow. ‘Why must I have known?’

‘As Matterhorn’s boss you must have been aware that having your own promotional team would make the job I do redundant.’

Patiently, as though speaking to a not-very-bright child, he pointed out, ‘As Matterhorn’s boss, I only keep hold of the reins and make the executive decisions. I just don’t have time to get involved with the ins and outs of company policy, or the day-to-day running of things. That’s what I employ managers for.’

Feeling silly, she said, ‘Of course…I’m sorry.’

What on earth had she been thinking of? she berated herself. Naturally the big boss wouldn’t be au fait with minor details.

It was high time she pulled herself together and stopped letting her imagination run away with her.

But she hadn’t imagined the photographs.

As though he’d read that searing thought, he remarked casually, ‘I see you’ve come across your photographs.’

Taken aback by his cool nonchalance, she asked unsteadily, ‘Why did you take them?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘Then who did, and why?’

‘If you remember, I mentioned earlier that just after I’d first seen you, and while I was still reeling from finding the woman I’d been waiting for, I had to go away on a business trip…

‘At that point, all I knew about you was your name and the fact that you were working for CartelWines. Two things DeVere had grudgingly admitted when I’d asked him who you were.

‘I wanted to know a whole lot more so, before I went away, I hired a detective to find out as much as he could about you. He took the photographs.’

The thought of being kept under surveillance and photographed without her knowledge was far from pleasant, and she said so.

‘Yes, I’m sorry I had to resort to that. But I needed to know, and in the circumstances…’

Honestly puzzled, she protested, ‘I don’t understand why you were in such a hurry, why you couldn’t have waited. Even if I’d left Cartel Wines, the personnel department had my address; you could have—’

‘Call me impetuous.’ Pulling her into his arms, he began to kiss her deeply, his ardour sweeping her away, swamping any further attempt at logical thought or protest.

She was limp and quivering all over by the time he released her lips and, putting his cheek to hers, whispered in her ear, ‘Shall we go upstairs…?’

Though she was sorely tempted, a sense of what was fitting made her say a little breathlessly, ‘But suppose someone wants you?’

He kissed the warm hollow behind her ear before nibbling the lobe. ‘I rather hoped you would.’

Feeling her resolve beginning to slip away, she said hastily, ‘What about the Reverend Peter? Don’t we need to talk to him?’

‘You’re quite right, we do…What a very practical woman you are…Ah, well, once all the arrangements have been finalized we can give each other our undivided attention.’

Rubbing his cheek against hers, he asked seductively, ‘Have you ever made love in the open air with the sun pouring down and a gentle breeze caressing your skin?’

‘No,’ she whispered.

‘Then it’s high time you did. It adds a whole new dimension. After we’ve talked to the Reverend Peter, I propose that we go for a stroll.’

His voice deepening, he added, ‘On the far side of the beechwood there’s a sunny and secluded little clearing that’s ideal…’

The words tailed off as his lips moved down the side of her neck, making her shiver deliciously, and his fingers undid the top two buttons of her silk shirt and slipped inside to fondle her breast.

Though it took all her willpower, disliking the thought of facing the priest looking all hot and bothered, she made a muffled protest.

With a sigh, Richard reluctantly removed his hand and, pulling the front of her shirt together, refastened the buttons.

‘No wonder newly married couples go away on honeymoon,’ he said wryly. ‘For that length of time, at least, they can forget everything and lose themselves in each other.

‘And, speaking of honeymoons, have you decided where you’d like to go on yours?’

‘I don’t mind in the slightest,’ she said happily. ‘I’ll leave it to you.’ Anywhere on earth would be heaven so long as he was there.

‘Come along then, my love.’

So she really was his love… Her heart soared like a bird.

As, hand in hand, they made their way to the priest’s quarters, which adjoined the little chapel, Richard said, ‘I’d prefer the ceremony to take place in the morning. Unless you have any objections?’

She shook her head. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘Then shall we say ten o’clock? That way, when we’ve had lunch we can go into Anders Cross and shop for a trousseau…’

If they shopped in the morning and got married in the afternoon, she could have a new dress to be married in.

She had opened her mouth to point that out when something…pride? Pique?…made her bite back the words.

He was the one who was calling the tune and perhaps, manlike, he simply wasn’t interested in clothes.

So if it didn’t matter to him that she had nothing to wear, perhaps he was just plain insensitive and didn’t realise that it did matter to her.

But he was going on, ‘There are several good little boutiques and a branch of Bertolli’s Fashion House if you like his designs?’

Taking a deep breath, she said evenly, ‘Yes, I do.’

And it was true. She had always admired Bertolli’s classical collections, though until now they had been way out of her price range. It would seem strange to be able to choose a new wardrobe without having to worry about the cost.

As they approached the priest’s quarters he emerged from the door and came to greet them.

He was a short, tubby man with a jolly face and a fringe of pure white hair surrounding a large bald spot that reminded Tina of a monk’s tonsure.

She was forced to stifle a chuckle when Richard leaned closer and said, sotto voce, ‘Put him in a habit and you’ve got Friar Tuck.’

After the introductions had been made, beaming, he shepherded them into the chapel, which appeared dim after the brightness of the sunshine.

When her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Tina glanced around her. To one side of a simple altar, with a plain gold cross and twin candles, a short flight of wooden steps with a curving handrail led up to a small, intricately carved pulpit.

A lectern in the form of a brass eagle with spread wings held a large black Bible and either side of the chancel steps a tall flower arrangement added colour and scented the air.

At the rear was a screened organ and a stone font, while a dozen well-polished pews that smelled of beeswax and lavender took up most of the floor space. Shafts of sunshine slanting through the stained glass windows threw jewelled patterns across the backs of the pews and the red carpet that ran down the central aisle.

Tina sighed. It was beautiful and tranquil, a lovely place to be married in.

As though in response to that thought, Richard’s fingers tightened on hers and, her pique forgotten, her heart swelled with love and gratitude.

When the arrangements had been discussed and settled on, the Reverend Peter turned to Richard and remarked, ‘I’m delighted you’ve decided to use your parents’ rings. I know it would have made your mother very happy.

‘Oh, and speaking of your mother, I’ve been thinking about the second will that Hannah and I witnessed…’

Apparently not noticing the warning look that Richard gave him, the cleric went on, ‘It occurred to me that it might have got mixed up with some of the ecclesiastical papers that she was going through at the time, so if you could spare a few minutes to—’

‘I’d prefer to make it later,’ Richard broke in. Putting an arm around Tina’s waist, he explained, ‘We were just about to take a walk.’

‘If you’ve something to deal with, I can always start walking and you can follow on when you’re ready,’ she suggested practically.

His face clearing, he asked, ‘Sure you don’t mind?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then if you take the path round the moat and head for the beechwood, I’ll catch you up.’

He bent his dark head and kissed her, the promise explicit in that kiss taking her breath away and making her heart beat faster.

A little flushed, she thanked the cleric and said goodbye, before leaving the chapel.

When she got outside, the engagement ring she wore caught the sun and sparkled brilliantly. Imagining Ruth’s face when she saw it, Tina smiled to herself.

Which reminded her, Ruth would be expecting her back on Monday, so she must ring the flat later and let the other girl know what was happening.

When she reached the bridge she leaned her arms on the old creeper-covered parapet and dawdled for a while, looking at the pleasant scene.

Fluffy white clouds hung in the deep blue sky and, along with tall feathery reeds and grey stone walls, were reflected in the still waters of the moat. Then a paddle of ducks came swimming busily along, breaking the smooth picture into a series of ripples.

Beneath the surface, she could see huge golden carp moving idly and a water rat, sleek and streamlined, surfaced briefly before disappearing into a hole in the bank.

When some fifteen minutes had passed and there was no sign of Richard, she set off to stroll round the moat. After she had gone a little way it occurred to her that she was walking widdershins and she hoped it wasn’t unlucky.

After a while she glanced back and, finding Richard was still nowhere in sight, she decided to sit down and wait.

All the cottonwool clouds had vanished now and the sun, low in a sky the colour of forget-me-nots, was bathing the parkland and the individual trees in a low golden light that cast long blue-black shadows across the turf.

Lack of sleep the previous night and the warmth of the dying sun on her face combined to make her feel soporific and, stretching out on the grass, her head pillowed on a handy tussock, she closed her eyes.

She was drifting, half asleep and half awake, when she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves.

Sitting up, she looked around, half expecting to see Richard had changed his mind about walking and had brought Jupiter.

But the rider who was approaching was a woman on a bay mare. A woman she recognised as Helen O’Connell.