Ally Blake - Taming the Rebel Tycoon

‘Does that mean you’re not interested, or you feel reluctant to ask?’

Apart from saying that his intentions were in no way casual, he’d made no commitment, had promised her nothing, so what right had she to ask?

‘Well?’ he pressed.

‘I feel I’ve no right to ask,’ she admitted dully.

A hand beneath her chin, he lifted her face and said firmly, ‘After the way I’ve treated you, you’ve every right to ask.’

Her breath taken away, she gazed up at him mutely as he went on, ‘I got you to come here by offering you a job. A job you turned down on the grounds that, because we’d been to bed together, you would find it awkward to work for me.

‘That shows a rare sensitivity in this day and age, when a lot of women wouldn’t have given it a second thought or would have regarded a sexual interest as a plus.

‘Well, now I’m offering you a different kind of job, a job where a sexual interest is not only a plus but absolutely vital…’

When, her blue-violet eyes wide, she continued to stare up at him, he said, ‘I want you to be my wife.’

‘What?’ she whispered, unable to believe her ears.

‘I want you to be my wife,’ he repeated. ‘Or, as Marlowe put it, “Come live with me and be my love…”

‘It’s sudden, I admit,’ he added quizzically, ‘but there’s no need to look quite so taken aback. After all, I did make it plain that my interest was far from casual…’

‘Yes, I know, but I…I never thought…I never dreamt…’ Wanting to believe it, but afraid to, needing desperately to be reassured that this wasn’t some kind of cruel joke, she asked huskily, ‘Do you really want to marry me?’

‘Yes,’ he answered, a touch of amusement in his voice, ‘I really do.’

When, still struggling to take it in, she said nothing, he offered teasingly, ‘Would you like me to say it again?’

‘I—I’m sorry, but I just find it hard to believe,’ she admitted.

‘But my proposal isn’t unwelcome, I hope?’ A finger tracing the curve of her cheek, he asked with apparent irrelevance, ‘When we saw the evening star and both made a wish, what did you wish for?’

Seeing her colour rise, he smiled, as if that was answer enough, and told her softly, ‘You are what I wished for.’ Bending his head, he kissed her lips. A light coaxing kiss. ‘All you have to do is marry me to make my wish come true.

‘I would have waited a little and proposed to you in a more romantic setting,’ he added seriously, ‘if Hannah hadn’t let the cat out of the bag.

‘However,’ he went on after a moment, ‘I hope the setting won’t make any difference to your answer?’

The setting wasn’t important, Tina thought, winging her way up to cloud nine—Richard loved her and wanted to marry her; that was all that mattered.

She would have been content with his love—more than content, deliriously happy. The fact that he wanted to make her his wife was more than she had ever dared to hope for and her heart swelled with joy and gratitude.

Watching her glowing face, he was almost sure that he’d pulled it off. But he needed to hear her say it out loud.

When she continued to sit as though in a trance, her eyes soft and full of dreams, growing impatient, he took her shoulders and, lifting her to her feet, urged, ‘I’m still waiting for an answer. Will you marry me?’

She gave him the most glorious smile and answered simply, ‘Yes.’

That smile made him feel despicable and, for a split second, in spite of everything, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

But he couldn’t afford to weaken now.

Shrugging off the feeling, he hardened his heart.

Though it was over in an instant, she picked up that fleeting doubt. ‘But perhaps we should have time to think it over?’

He frowned. ‘Do you need time?’

She shook her head. ‘No, not really. But I thought you might.’

‘I don’t need time to think it over. I know exactly what I’m doing.’

‘But you don’t really know enough about me.’

‘I know everything I need to know.’

Though he sounded certain, a lingering unease made her ask, ‘On the drive here you talked about your wife and children living at Anders…Suppose I dislike children and don’t want any…?’

‘Do you dislike children?’

‘No, of course I don’t. I don’t think a marriage is complete without children, but—’

His mouth covered hers, stopping the words, before he said, ‘Then I know everything I need to know.’

‘How can you be so sure when we only met a couple of days ago?’

‘The first time I saw you I knew you were all I’d ever dreamed of or wanted in a woman.’

Though his answer was sweet and romantic, something impelled her to say, ‘It just seems so sudden…’

He brushed her lips lightly with his. ‘Have you never heard of love at first sight?’

‘Of course, but—’

‘I had hoped the feeling might have been mutual.’

After a moment she admitted softly, ‘It was.’

Making no attempt to hide his elation, he pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her in earnest.

For a while they stood embracing, lost to the world, like Donne’s ecstatic lovers.

Eventually, the intrusive thought that there were still things to be done, one final hurdle to surmount, disturbed the blissful mood.

Lifting his head reluctantly and opting for a change of scene, Richard suggested, ‘It’s a lovely morning—shall we get some fresh air?’

A fountain of happiness welling inside her, she nodded. ‘Let’s.’

‘Sure the ankle’s up to it?’

‘It’s as good as new this morning.’

‘Oh, wait a minute, you won’t have had anything to eat yet…’

‘I haven’t, but—’

‘There’ll be bacon and eggs and coffee keeping hot in the breakfast room.’

‘I’m not hungry, but I’d like a cup of coffee before we go.’

When they’d each had a coffee, wondering how best to play it without appearing to rush things, he suggested casually, ‘Would you like to stroll down and see the horses?’

‘I’d love to.’

‘You said you used to ride.’

‘Oh, yes. Though I haven’t been on a horse for some time now, I rode a lot when I was younger.’

‘Then perhaps we could take them out.’

He captured her hand and laced his fingers through hers as they left the breakfast room and made their way along the length of the hall.

Beyond the servants’ quarters, the kitchens and a flagged outer hall—all of which appeared to be deserted—a huge studded-oak door opened on to a wide area of decking and a sturdy wooden bridge.

‘The tradesmen’s entrance,’ Richard told her with a grin as they crossed the bridge hand in hand.

It was a beautiful morning, calm and sunny, the balmy air full of the oddly poignant scents of autumn: freshly sawn pine logs, late wallflowers, decaying leaves and woodsmoke.

On the far side of the bridge was a paved carriageway, one fork of which served the garden area, while the other, running between smooth lawns, sloped gently down to an old-fashioned stone-built stable block and coach house.

The large central archway was surmounted by a cupola, on top of which a black wrought iron weathervane—a horse taking the place of the traditional cock—stood motionless in the still air.

On all four sides of the cupola was a large clock with a blue face and golden hands that declared it was almost ten-thirty.

In the stable yard a short bow-legged man wearing a flat cap, a flannel shirt and riding breeches was grooming a large black stallion, whose coat gleamed with good health and care.

‘Morning, Josh,’ Richard said cheerfully. ‘I’d like you to meet Miss Dunbar.’