Lee Wilkinson: Claiming His Wedding Night

The night was silky dark, and quiet apart from the endless shrill song of the cicadas. The sky above her head was a vault of black velvet, the stars closer than she had ever seen them before.

‘Tired?’ he asked.

‘A little,’ she admitted.

He reached for the robe she had discarded earlier, and wrapped it around her. ‘In that case…’ Taking her hand, he led her towards the Jacuzzi.

It was screened from the house and terrace by a waist-high semicircular stone wall, but the front was open to what, in daylight, would be a pleasant view over the gardens.

As they approached, Perdita could hear the faint bubbling sound of water and see wisps of steam rising from the surface. A nearby alcove held a neat pile of towels.

Slipping the robe from her shoulders, he said, ‘This is what you need.’

A broad seat made a horseshoe round the tub, and when she had descended the steps she sat down, submerged up to her shoulders.

The gentle, erotic swirl of hot water around her weary limbs felt lovely, and she was just starting to relax when Jared enquired, ‘Mind if I join you?’

Her breath caught in her throat.

Lee Wilkinsonlives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling, and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

Recent titles by the same author:

CAPTIVE IN THE MILLIONAIRE’S CASTLE

THE BOSS’S FORBIDDEN SECRETARY

MISTRESS AGAINST HER WILL

by

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Cover Page

Excerpt The night was silky dark, and quiet apart from the endless shrill song of the cicadas. The sky above her head was a vault of black velvet, the stars closer than she had ever seen them before. ‘Tired?’ he asked. ‘A little,’ she admitted. He reached for the robe she had discarded earlier, and wrapped it around her. ‘In that case…’ Taking her hand, he led her towards the Jacuzzi. It was screened from the house and terrace by a waist-high semicircular stone wall, but the front was open to what, in daylight, would be a pleasant view over the gardens. As they approached, Perdita could hear the faint bubbling sound of water and see wisps of steam rising from the surface. A nearby alcove held a neat pile of towels. Slipping the robe from her shoulders, he said, ‘This is what you need.’ A broad seat made a horseshoe round the tub, and when she had descended the steps she sat down, submerged up to her shoulders. The gentle, erotic swirl of hot water around her weary limbs felt lovely, and she was just starting to relax when Jared enquired, ‘Mind if I join you?’ Her breath caught in her throat.

About the Author Lee Wilkinson lives with her husband in a three-hundred-year-old stone cottage in a Derbyshire village, which most winters gets cut off by snow. They both enjoy travelling, and recently, joining forces with their daughter and son-in-law, spent a year going round the world ‘on a shoestring’ while their son looked after Kelly, their much loved German shepherd dog. Her hobbies are reading and gardening, and holding impromptu barbecues for her long-suffering family and friends.

Other Books By Recent titles by the same author: CAPTIVE IN THE MILLIONAIRE’S CASTLE THE BOSS’S FORBIDDEN SECRETARY MISTRESS AGAINST HER WILL

Title Page Claiming His Wedding Night by

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

IT WAS a lovely early June day. After a miserably cold spring, a cloudless blue sky hailed the start of summer in the city.

The dust and heat and the oppressive air that trapped and held the exhaust fumes hadn’t yet built up. Instead, a light balmy breeze played hide and seek, fluttering flags and awnings, and giving London the air of being en fête.

In spite of the financial problems that at present beset JB Electronics, the bright sunshine lifted Perdita Boyd’s spirits and put a spring in her step as she walked along Piccadilly.

Tall and slender, with a natural grace of movement, even in a business suit, her hair in a no-nonsense coil, she turned male heads.

Considering herself to be somewhat nondescript, with eyes of palest turquoise and hair the bleached gold of ripe corn, she would have been surprised had she known what an impact she made.

Even the elderly, and somewhat crusty, bank manager she had been to see earlier that morning, whilst refusing to give JB Electronics a loan, had smiled at her and sighed for his lost youth.

After leaving the bank, attempting to gather herself and regain some shred of optimism, she had called in at the nursing home where her father was recovering from recent heart surgery.

John Boyd had been sitting by the long windows that looked out over the well-kept grounds.

He was a tall, nice-looking man of just turned fifty five, with a good head of thick grey-blond hair and a slight gap between his top middle two front teeth that gave him a boyish appearance.

As she’d crossed the room to kiss him, he had queried, ‘No luck, I take it?’

Sitting down opposite, she shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. While the bank manager was sympathetic, he was also adamant that they could offer neither a loan nor a bigger overdraft.’

John sighed. ‘Well, as the Silicon Valley set-up is in an even bigger mess than we are, that means we’ve no alternative but to negotiate with Salingers.’

‘It won’t be easy. They’re a tough lot. They have us over a barrel and they know it.

‘Even so, we can’t afford to let them have the controlling interest if we can possibly help it. We need to keep it down to no more than forty-five per cent of the shares.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Go up to fifty per cent if you have to. When are you going to see them?’

‘I’m going to their Baker Street offices first thing tomorrow morning.’

‘That’s good, we’ve no time to spare. Who will you be seeing?’

‘I’ve an appointment to see a Mr Calhoun, one of their top men.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. He’s a tough nut to crack, by all accounts.’

Wanting to take the worried look off her father’s face, Perdita hastily changed the subject. ‘Oh, by the way, Sally mentioned that she’d like to pop in later, if that’s all right with you?’

‘It’s fine by me.’

‘She said something about getting her own back.’

He grinned. ‘She has a pocket chess set, and the last game we played, I beat her.’