Sara Craven - The Marriage Proposition

‘But that’s where you’re wrong,’ Nick said softly. ‘Because I haven’t finished with you, baby. Not by a long chalk. In fact—’ his voice deepened ‘—I haven’t even begun yet.’

They were both standing still, but the space between them seemed to have diminished in some strange way. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The brush of his body against hers.

Paige made a small inarticulate sound in her throat, then she moved, skirting round him, keeping him at arm’s length or more, walking fast, trying not to run.

Trying to maintain a safe distance between them—if there could be such a thing, she thought crazily as she went up the beach, stumbling a little, despising her own clumsiness. Hating him for being its cause.

She didn’t look back, but then she didn’t have to. She could feel his eyes on her back, burning like ice. Branding her.

Except that she was no possession of his—and she never would be.

‘So there you are,’ Brad greeted her jovially. ‘We were just going to send out a search party.’

‘It’s a pretty straight beach,’ Paige returned as lightly as possible. ‘Not many places to get lost.’ Except in some hell of my own making.

‘What’s going on?’ Angie hissed as Paige took her seat beside her. ‘One minute you’re dancing with Brad, the next you’re out beachcombing.’

‘I needed some air,’ Paige whispered back. ‘I’ve got a headache.’

‘What lousy luck.’ Angie was instantly sympathetic. ‘Do you want to call it a day?’

‘It might be better. I have to finish packing, and I’ve got a long flight tomorrow.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw Nick come up from the beach. For a moment she thought he was going to come over to their table, and tensed, but he walked straight past without giving any of them a glance. And Angie’s attention was fortunately centred on her.

I’m not getting out completely unscathed, Paige thought. But it could be very much worse.

On her way out, a few minutes later, she risked a brief look at Nick’s table to see if her departure had been witnessed, but he appeared to be completely engrossed in his blonde.

Which, Paige told herself vehemently, could only be a relief.

Brad held her hand for a moment longer than necessary as they said goodnight. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he promised, and she smiled and tried to feel interested and grateful.

But it was impossible. Her mind was in turmoil. Jack and Angie chatted quietly to each other in the front of the car, out of consideration for her headache, and she sat alone in the darkness almost obsessively going over and over the scene on the beach. Asking herself what he could possibly have meant and receiving no answer. At least none that satisfied her, or even offered a modicum of comfort.

But then Nick had always been an enigma, she told herself restively.

She wrapped her arms round her body, shivering. She was shaking inside, aware of a feeling of faint nausea. Of disorientation.

Shock, she thought. That was what it was. He was the last person she’d expected—or wanted—to see. And it was one of life’s terrible ironies that they should be on the same small island, in the same nightclub, at the same time.

If they’d spent the evening anywhere else she’d have avoided him, as she’d been doing so successfully all these months. Checking the schedule of his visits to London, or to the company headquarters, and quietly arranging to be elsewhere. Ensuring work took her far away, to the other end of the country, on the infrequent occasions when he was due to stay at the house.

‘You could make more of an effort,’ Toby had grumbled on the last occasion. ‘It means Denise has to entertain him, and he scares her witless.’

That, Paige thought scathingly, mentally reviewing her sister-in-law’s vacant blue eyes and pouting ever-present smile, would not incur a great deal of effort on Nick’s part.

She had said crisply, ‘She’s the wife of the managing director, Toby. It comes with the territory.’

‘But she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Why you’re never around.’

And with very good reason, Paige had supplemented silently. Total discretion had been insisted on from both sides when the original deal was struck. However, it was tacitly acknowledged in the family that Toby’s wife was an airhead who could gossip for Britain. One whisper of the raison d’être for Paige’s unconventional marriage and she would be up and running with the story.

She had said, ‘Well, I’m sure you can come up with some plausible explanation, brother dear. Because there’s no way I’m going to share a roof with Nick just to protect Denise’s sensibilities.’ She’d paused. ‘And Nick would be no more keen to spend time in my company, believe me.’

And she’d spoken no more than the truth. She was sure of it. So why had he sought her out tonight? she asked herself with shaken bewilderment. Implied the things that he had? She’d kept the terms of their agreement meticulously, yet now, with freedom in sight, Nick appeared to be about to chuck a spanner into the works.

Except she wouldn’t allow it to happen. And being a member of the Harrington board wasn’t necessarily a job for life. Anyone could be voted off. And just because that had never happened, no guarantee was offered that it never would. If the company could just find an alternative source of financing, she thought broodingly, Maitland Destry might be history.

Back at Les Roches, she accepted Angie’s concerned offer of paracetamol, and went up to her room.

Most of her packing was actually already done, she thought, looking around her with a critical eye. And what was left could wait until the morning. So she might as well take a shower and get an early night.

She walked over to the dressing table and sat down wearily, pushing back her hair. It was a pale, strained face looking back at her, she realised with a sigh, then tensed, her hand flying to her throat, as she realised her pearl pendant was missing.

She groaned under her breath.

I must have snapped the chain when I was fiddling with it on the beach, she thought, distressed. Something else to hate Nick for.

Sadly, she unhooked the drops from her ears. Pearls were supposed to symbolise tears, weren’t they? she thought. Maybe the loss of her necklace was a signal to her not to waste any more time in mourning for the past.

From now on she would look forward, not back. And she’d kickstart the new regime with a good night’s sleep, she told herself, biting her lip.

But that was altogether easier said than done. The air in the room was hot and heavy, defeating even the efforts of the ceiling fan, and Paige found herself tossing and turning, trying to find a cool place on the bed, her gown adhering clammily to her skin.

For the first time she was glad to be going home. Nick’s arrival had ruined everything, and she could only be thankful that he’d turned up at the end of her holiday rather than the beginning.

‘I haven’t finished with you.’ Those had been his words, so there was every chance that he might come looking for her again. And it was only a fleeting satisfaction to know that he wouldn’t find her. Not this time.

St Antoine was not big enough for both of them, she told herself with bitter humour. But back in Britain there would be more places to hide. And backup from the rest of the family. Her father, in particular, had always been uneasy about this unholy alliance, so she could count on his support if Nick started making a nuisance of himself.

But it’s all my own fault, she thought bleakly. I should never have got involved in the first place. Should have dismissed the idea of such a marriage as madness. And to hell with family solidarity.