Trish Morey - Greek Affairs - The Virgin's Seduction

For a moment, she was tempted to storm out, having first emptied the teapot over his head, then she remembered what was at stake here and reluctantly subsided, giving him a muted glare.

‘Has anyone told you that you’re insolent?’ she enquired coldly.

He shrugged. ‘And you, Miss Flint, are clearly both devious and determined,’ he retorted. ‘Let us accept that neither of us is perfect, and move on.’

She took a breath. ‘I have—a problem. I need a husband.’

He stared at her, eyes narrowed. ‘Then the answer is simple. Get married.’

‘But I don’t want to be married, not now, not ever.’ She spoke with quiet vehemence. ‘However, I don’t have a choice.’ She paused. ‘So, I need someone prepared to go through a marriage ceremony with me, then get out of my life.’

‘And I clearly need more coffee,’ he said. ‘Or even something stronger. Unless, of course, you can promise me that you have not, even for a moment, cast me in this unlikely role.’

‘Listen to me—please.’ She leaned forward. ‘It’s a form of words in a register office—that’s all. We say them—and we split. When the marriage has served its purpose, we divorce. And I pay all the expenses.

‘What’s more, I’ll pay you an additional lump sum big enough for you to stage your own exhibition, if the Parsifal Gallery isn’t interested in your work, or to spend in any other way you please. That’s not a variable. You really won’t lose out over this.’

There was a silence, then he said, ‘Tell me, Miss Flint, how long did it take for you to invent this incredible fantasy?’

She shook her head. ‘No fantasy. I’m deadly serious. And desperate.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ he said grimly. ‘But why?’ His dark gaze seemed to drill into hers. ‘And please do not say it does not concern me, when it clearly does.’

Harriet pushed away her untouched tea. ‘Very well—if you must know,’ she acceded reluctantly, ‘unless I’m married by my twenty-fifth birthday, I stand to lose something that means the world to me.’ She swallowed. ‘My grandfather, who operates from the Dark Ages, insists that he will not allow me to inherit my childhood home if I don’t have a husband to help with the running of the estate. He feels a family house would be wasted on a single woman, and that I might fall prey to unscrupulous—people.’

‘You think a husband picked off the streets would not fall into this category?’

‘Naturally, I would insist on a strict pre-nuptial agreement.’

‘Oh, naturally,’ he said. His expression was deadpan but there was a slight tremor in his voice.

She gave him a suspicious glare. ‘You seem to think it’s funny.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I think it’s tragic.’ He paused. ‘And your birthday is—when?’

‘In six weeks’ time.’

‘Strange,’ he said. ‘I would have thought you much younger.’ He added coolly, ‘And that is not intended as a compliment.’

‘Fortunately, your opinion of me doesn’t matter. My only concern is Gracemead.’ She looked down at her clasped hands. ‘I actually found someone to marry through a personal ad, but a few days ago he suddenly backed out—and now I’m stranded.’

‘Or had a lucky escape,’ he suggested unsmilingly.

‘I saw it as a no-risk strategy,’ Harriet said defiantly. ‘Where we both gain. I still do.’

He said harshly. ‘Then I am not surprised your grandfather wishes you to have a husband. I am only astonished he allows you to go about without a keeper.’

‘How—how dare you?’ Her voice shook. ‘If that’s all you can say, let’s forget the whole thing.’

‘Not so fast,’ he said, and there was a note in his voice that stopped her unwillingly in her tracks. ‘I presume that my introduction to this gallery owner depends on my acquiescence to this monstrous plan—am I right?’

‘Naturally,’ she returned curtly. ‘That’s the deal on the table. A straightforward quid pro quo .’

‘I do not think we share the same understanding of “straightforward”,’ he drawled. ‘How much are you planning to pay in cash for my compliance? I ask only because I have never been for sale before, and I wish to savour the experience—to the full.’

She sat up very straight. ‘The exact terms have to be agreed, but I think you’ll find me generous,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I am quite sure that I will.’

She found his faint smile distinctly unnerving, and continued hastily, ‘Afterwards we would live and work exactly as we do now—apart.’ She coloured a little. ‘And of course you’d be free to conduct your—private life just as you wish. I wouldn’t dream of imposing any restrictions on your personal conduct.’

‘You are too gracious, Miss Flint.’ His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it. ‘And I would also be expected to turn a blind eye if you chose to take a lover? Is that what you’re saying?’

She frowned. ‘Well, no. I mean—how could you possibly know? It’s not as if we’ll be meeting at any point before we divorce.’ She added with constraint, ‘And, anyway, it won’t happen. I have no intention of becoming involved in that kind of relationship.’

‘So sex has no place in your life,’ he murmured, his lips twisting. ‘Well that, perhaps, explains your unpleasant temper.’

She said icily, ‘And that, if I may say so, is a typically male viewpoint.’

‘But I am a man, Miss Flint. What else do you expect?’ He paused. ‘Let us return to essentials. Do you truly believe your grandfather will quietly accept the appearance in your life of some complete stranger? That he will not smell a very large and very pungent rat?’

She shrugged defensively. ‘He’s put his demands in writing. They say nothing about the nature of the relationship, just that it should legally exist. Nor does he mention the length of time any marriage should last. And that’s where he made his mistake.’

She lifted her chin. ‘He thinks he has me over a barrel, but he has to learn that I’m my own woman, and he can’t control me in this way. Also that no contract is entirely foolproof.’

‘Then for once we are in agreement.’ His tone was ironic. ‘But we might differ on who may turn out to be the fool in all this.’

He was silent for a long moment, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table, his glance flickering thoughtfully over her.

At last, ‘Very well, Miss Flint,’ he said quietly. ‘Crazy as it is, I accept your proposal. I will marry you on the terms discussed.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am—more than grateful.’

Hs glance was frankly cynical. ‘I think that remains to be seen.’ He paused. ‘As we are now officially engaged, am I permitted to call you Harriet?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She flushed. ‘And I need to know the rest of your name—for when I break the good news to my grandfather.’

‘I am Zandros,’ he said. ‘Roan Zandros.’ He leaned forward, offering his hand, and before she realised what she was doing Harriet allowed her fingers to be clasped by his. His touch was warm and strong, and in spite of herself she felt her pulses leap in an unexpected and unwelcome response.

And saw his firm mouth slant, as if he’d gauged her reaction, and was amused by it.

He said softly, ‘To our better acquaintance, Harriet mou .’ Then, before she could free herself, he raised her hand almost ceremoniously to his lips and kissed it, leaving her gasping.

‘WHAT on earth are you doing?’ Harriet snatched back her hand, furiously aware that she was blushing.

‘A formal seal to our betrothal.’ He sounded completely unconcerned. ‘That is all.’