Sophie Pembroke - Happily Ever After... - His Reluctant Cinderella / His Very Convenient Bride / A Deal to Mend Their Marriage

‘If he goes back,’ Raff’s grandfather said, his eyes fixed on Clara, the intent gaze eerily similar to that of his grandson, ‘what about you?’

Clara’s mouth dried. She had kind of got used to having him around, sitting on her desk disrupting her, whispering highly libellous biographies of the people they met, raising an approving eyebrow as she made small talk.

She had got used to those moments when their hands brushed, the sensation that time was slowing and that all she could see or hear was him. The swell that seemed to roar upwards, filling her full of awareness of his every movement, his every gesture.

‘We’ve managed so far,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘Skype, letters, it works really well. We’re both so busy that time apart gives us a chance to breathe. Excuse me for a moment.’

The tent seemed so bright, so loud. The chatter and the music competing with each other, driving up the noise level to a deafening shriek. Each of the myriad lights seemed to shine directly into her eyes, the heat making her stomach roll. She needed air and quiet and dark. She needed some space.

Clara moved quickly across the tent, swerving to avoid the clustered groups, making sure she didn’t catch anyone’s eye as the announcer returned to the stage to announce the start of the auction. Thankfully, she reached the marquee entrance and slipped out into the grounds.

What was wrong with her? It had been a highly successful night. Raff’s presentation had been sensational, the guests all looked ready to start spending and donating lavishly and if Clara had read him correctly then Raff’s grandfather looked ready to do the right thing and give the company to Polly.

Even better, she had made some great contacts and, if she dared, was in a great position to expand out of Hopeford.

If she dared. Was that it? Was that the reason for this melancholy that had fallen on her like a damp dusk? Because starting the business had been absurdly simple; it had all fallen into place with surprising ease. But taking it into the big city meant taking risks and that was something Clara just didn’t do any more.

Or was it because this adventure was nearly over? She’d thought that she was finished with adventures but maybe that part of her wasn’t as dead and buried as she liked to think. As she had hoped. Compared to backpacking around the world it was a tame adventure, true, but a part of her was thrilling to the unpredictability.

And Raff. Clara sighed, feeling the truth exhale out of her with her heavy breath. There it was. Like a fool she was allowing the pretence to take over. Just because they pretended it was a relationship, acted as if it were a relationship, did not make it one. He didn’t want or need ties here; he was doing his best to sever the ones he already had.

There was nothing long term for her. She should be sensible. Just as she always was.

‘Here you are.’ Clara’s heart gave an absurd skip at the low voice; clearly the sensible memo hadn’t reached it yet. ‘Are you okay?’

‘A little hot.’ That wasn’t a lie. ‘Shouldn’t you be inside for the auction?’

‘There’s not much call for exotic villas or cases of fine wine out in the field,’ he said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. All thoughts of caution, of taking a step back, fled at his touch. ‘I did purchase an obscene amount of raffle tickets, though. You?’

‘I don’t think there’s any point in me competing against any of those platinum cards.’ There had been some amazing items on the auction list but the guide prices alone had made Clara take a hasty gulp of her wine. ‘I think your grandfather was planning to bid. Maybe we should go back in.’

‘He’s quite capable of spending a lot of money without my help.’ Raff’s arms tightened a little, his breath hot on her neck, burning her, branding her, sending heat flaming through her veins. ‘I’m looking forward to spending some time off duty.’ He turned her unresisting body round, cupping her face with his hand. ‘I just want a night with no more work talk, a beautiful woman on my arm, in my arms. Music, wine, fun. Are you in? Because...’ his voice was low, intimate ‘...there’s no one else I want to be with.’

She had spent the last ten years building up a reputation, one she was proud of. She was often called driven, reliable, honest—and she was proud of those attributes. But beautiful? Fun?

Raff thought she was both of them. And tonight, just tonight, Clara thought she might think so too.

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