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The Marriage Deal
The Marriage Deal
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The Marriage Deal

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The Marriage Deal
Sara Craven

Mills & Boon proudly presents THE SARA CRAVEN COLLECTION. Sara’s powerful and passionate romances have captivated and thrilled readers all over the world for five decades making her an international bestseller.Jago was the only possible solutionAshley Landon was desperate. After two years of her best efforts as chairman, her family's business faced either bankruptcy or a takeover. Then Jago Marrick, her ex-fiance, turned up with a hardheaded alternative–marriage.Ashley's first reaction was shock, but Jago seemed to be the company's only hope. As her husband and the new chairman, Jago's vast business experience could put Landons back on its feet.Reluctantly Ashley accepted–only to find that he wanted much more from their marriage than she was prepared to give.

The Marriage Deal

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER (#u35710074-cea0-5f5f-9377-320a74668633)

TITLE PAGE (#ue6282f49-618a-5e6d-9186-d885dc35c2e2)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u9a26025a-e4e8-5468-8dcd-b686236c5d68)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_829a029e-9329-5205-a24b-6c3d233e155a)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_efa0f12e-4c5d-5925-925c-70eeeede7364)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_57dce129-25c4-5b06-8da7-d70f1d8d6ca7)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ENDPAGE (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1af7421b-eaad-5662-a1ef-e0e0ac0756dc)

A CAR door slammed, and high heels clicked across the paving stones with brisk impatience. As the glass doors of the towering office block swung open, the security guard got to his feet, his usually impassive face registering faint surprise.

‘Miss Landon—we weren’t expecting you back for another ten days …’

He was left gaping after Ashley Landon’s retreating back as it pursued an openly stormy passage to the lift, and with a shrug he returned to his cubicle.

‘Someone’s for it,’ he remarked to no one in particular.

The lift stopped at the sixth floor, and the doors glided open to release the sole passenger. She was a slim girl, slightly above medium height, the sculptured lines of her elegantly bobbed black hair giving emphasis to her pointed chin and high cheekbones. Her clothes were expensive, but sat awkwardly on her body, as if she’d had other things on her mind when she put them on. And the muted beige of her skirt and jacket did nothing for her clear, pale skin, or her green eyes, glinting now like an angry cat’s.

When she reached the door marked ‘Company Secretary’ she flung it open and walked in without knocking with the air of one who has the right, past the startled typist, and straight into the inner office.

Henry Brett was on the telephone, and he looked up frowning at the unceremonious opening of his door, his face clearing instantly when he saw his visitor.

He made a swift excuse to his caller, and replaced his receiver, coming round his desk, hand outstretched.

‘Ashley, my dear, you’re back already. That’s wonderful!’

‘Hardly the way I’d describe the disruption of my first vacation in three years,’ Ashley rejoined crisply. ‘But the signals seemed too urgent to ignore. What the hell’s going on?’

Henry Brett sighed, steering her to a chair. ‘A takeover,’ he said succinctly. ‘Marshalls are making yet another bid for our shares.’

‘They must be mad,’ Ashley said, dropping her bag to the floor beside her. ‘They got a very conclusive answer the last time they tried it, and nothing’s changed.’

‘I’m afraid it has,’ Henry said levelly. He pressed a buzzer on his desk, and spoke into the intercom. ‘Jean, could you rustle up some coffee?’

‘Not for me,’ Ashley cut in.

‘I think when you’ve heard me out, you’re going to need some stimulant,’ said Henry, his genial face sober. ‘I can’t hide it from you, Ashley. This time they mean business, and they could succeed. According to the recent soundings I’ve been taking, they could have a majority of our board on their side.’

There was a brief appalled silence, then Ashley said, ‘Henry, you can’t be serious! Why, last time, every member of the board was solidly one hundred per cent behind Landons.’

‘They were solidly one hundred per cent behind your father,’ Henry said grimly. ‘But Silas has been dead for two years, my dear. And you must remember that quite apart from the fact that his personality could carry anything through, most of the board owed him a great deal. After all, he’d put the majority of them where they were, and that counted—then.’

‘But not any more.’ There was a painful constriction in Ashley’s throat. ‘My God, Henry, I know I’m not my father, and never can be, but I’ve done my best to run the company exactly as he would have done …’

‘No one would deny that.’ Seated on the edge of his desk, Henry sent her a compassionate look. ‘You’ve done everything and more that anyone could expect, but the fact remains …’

‘The fact remains I’m not a man,’ Ashley said with a mirthless smile. ‘And the board—hidebound traditionalists every one of them—have never believed a woman of my age is capable of running a property development company the size of Landons.’

Henry looked embarrassed. ‘Hang it all, Ashley, it was Silas’ own view, and you know it.’

‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But Henry, I’ve tried so hard to be the son he wanted—I really have …’

‘No one could have done more,’ he assured her warmly. ‘But it was a responsibility Silas never wanted you to have. It was that damnfool rule of your grandfather’s that only a member of the family could become company chairman that had him hidebound. That was why …’ He stopped in sudden embarrassment. ‘Oh, damnation!’

‘It’s all right, Henry,’ Ashley said in a level voice. ‘I won’t fall apart at the seams if you talk about it. My God, it was over three years ago!’

‘All right then,’ Henry said quietly. ‘That was why he wanted you to marry Jago Marrick. As his son-in-law, Jago would have become chairman after Silas—the strong man at the top the board wanted.’

‘Oh, Jago was that all right.’ Ashley bit her lip. ‘It was as husband material that he failed to meet requirements. But that’s all in the past. He’s settled in the States now, and probably on his way to his second million.’

‘Or even his third,’ Henry said wryly. He paused. ‘But I’m glad to hear you’ve managed to put the whole sorry business behind you. I had to think very hard about bringing you home at this time.’

‘But why?’ She looked at him blankly. ‘This is an emergency. Where else would I be?’

Henry cleared his throat. ‘You see, there’s another factor. Giles Marrick died very suddenly, only a few days after you left for the Caribbean.’

‘Jago’s cousin?’ Ashley frowned. ‘I’m sorry. He was a kind man.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, I see—Jago came back for the funeral.’

‘And not just for the funeral,’ said Henry with a trace of heaviness. ‘Rumour has it that he intends to stay. He’s Giles Marrick’s heir, of course, so the Manor and the estate now belongs to him, although I believe the widow has some kind of life interest in it.’

‘Yes.’ She managed the monosyllable from a taut throat. ‘At least, until she remarries.’

‘Which probably won’t be long,’ Henry conceded. ‘Good-looking woman, and years younger than Marrick himself, of course.’

‘Years,’ Ashley agreed quietly. Although Jago had explained the position to her during their brief engagement, it had always cost her a pang to think that when he finally owned the beautiful Georgian house, Erica would still have the right to live there—Erica, with her sultry blonde good looks and malicious tongue.

Mentally, she gave herself a little impatient shake. The Manor was no longer any concern of hers. The loss of Landons was.

She said crisply, ‘Don’t look so concerned, Henry. I got over Jago a long time ago. Let’s get back to the main priority. How did you know Marshalls were sniffing round again?’

‘Movement of shares. And then Clive Farnsworth advised me privately that he was being pressed to sell his holding, and warned me that a majority of the board would be in favour of accepting Marshalls’ offer.’

‘It’s unbelievable!’ Ashley made a small sound of disgust. ‘Why, everyone knows what my father thought of them. He said they were sharks—jerrybuilders creating modern slums.’

‘He was right,’ Henry said bitterly. ‘Which is why they want Landons, of course, to confer a cloak of respectability on their operations. It’s the company name they want as well as its assets. But their real ace in the hole is their new managing director, a real dynamo by the sound of him. I gather he reminds some of the older board members of Silas when he was young. That’s the enticement—the kind of strong male leadership they’re used to.’

‘My God, what an attitude!’ Ashley expelled her breath in a small harsh sigh. ‘It belongs in the Ark.’

‘I can’t deny that, but we can’t dismiss it either.’ His gaze met hers squarely. ‘We have a real problem here, Ashley. The board aren’t just a set of dyed-in-the-wool male chauvinists. They’re anxious about our recent performance.’

He broke off as the door opened and Jean Hurst came in with a tray of coffee.

It was what she needed after all, Ashley discovered wryly, as she accepted a cup of the dark, fragrant brew, and sipped it gratefully.

When they were alone again, she said, ‘Was it deliberate? Did Marshalls wait for me to go to Barbados before they made their move?’

Henry looked slightly taken aback. ‘It’s possible. They must know that loyalty to Silas’ memory still exerts quite a hold.’

‘So—we fight.’ She lifted her chin. ‘What am I up against, if it came to a straight boardroom battle?’

‘I think you’d just lose,’ he admitted, and she winced.

‘I can’t bear it! To see everything Grandfather and Silas worked for just—handed over to a cowboy outfit like Marshalls. My God, I’d do anything—anything, to stop it happening.’

‘I hope you’re not contemplating a sex-change,’ Henry made a heavy-handed attempt at humour.

Ashley grimaced. ‘Coupled with an operation to make me ten years older? Don’t tell me that isn’t part of the problem.’

‘You’re just not what they’re used to,’ Henry said tiredly. ‘To most of their generation, women are wives or secretaries, cast in the mould from birth.’ He paused. ‘And I’m afraid many of them see your—repudiation of your engagement to Jago Marrick as a sign of—feminine instability. They worry that it might break out again some time.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said with soft bitterness. ‘My brush with Jago was a one-off thing—never, I pray, to be repeated.’ She put her cup down on the desk. ‘When I broke off my engagement, I don’t think Silas ever really understood, or forgave me. He thought the end justified the means, and that I was just making a silly fuss about some trivial disagreement. He didn’t know …’ She stopped.

‘Didn’t know what?’ Henry prompted sympathetically.

She was silent for a moment, then, ‘Didn’t know how totally unsuited Jago and I were,’ she said stiltedly. She smiled faintly as she got to her feet. ‘I’m going home now, Henry. I need to think. But thanks for the timely message. I’d have hated to have been voted out of existence in my absence.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ he said unhappily. ‘They’re pressing for an emergency board meeting next Thursday. Between now and then I’ll see what I can do in the way of persuasion or pressure to change a few minds to our way of thinking.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s going to be an uphill struggle.’

‘We’ll win,’ she said. ‘We have to.’

Her words evinced a confidence she didn’t feel. Her mood as she drove to her flat was one of dejection.

She’d never envisaged becoming chairman of Landons, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to see the company taken away from her.

Oh, Silas, she thought fiercely, why didn’t you prepare me better?

Perhaps he would have done, if he’d lived to the ripe old age his bounding energy had seemed to promise. If he hadn’t collapsed with a heart attack while exploring a possible site for development, and died in intensive care an hour later, before Ashley could even get to his bedside. Her first act on assuming control of the company had been to complete the deal for the land. Nothing spectacular, but surely a sign to the rest of the world that it was business as usual.

Her flat occupied the top floor of a purpose-built block, which Landons had erected some ten years previously, and was the nearest to a real home she had ever had.

Her mother had, unbelievably, died giving her birth, and Silas, dazed by grief, had instantly sold the house they had lived in together. Ashley’s earliest memories were of a changing landscape of hotel suites, and a shifting population of nannies. Silas travelled the country, and she, perforce, travelled with him until she was old enough to be despatched to boarding school.

She had understood quite early in their relationship that she seemed to make her father uncomfortable, and had assumed it was because of some painful physical resemblance to her mother. Gradually she came to realise that, whether he was aware of it or not, Silas resented the fact that his only child was not the boy he had planned on. Yet he had never made any attempt to alter the situation by marrying again, although he had enjoyed various discreet liaisons over the years, seeming perfectly content with his nomadic existence, the only awkwardness occurring when he was obliged to have Ashley with him.

She had spent many dull hours reading, watching television, wandering round strange towns, watching other people’s lives from a distance, until at last, when she was sixteen, she had rebelled, and insisted on accompanying him on to site. He had been openly reluctant at first, but when he saw she was adamant he had acceded, and slowly a new relationship had been forged between them. He had started by being sceptical about her interest, but he answered her questions with total frankness, and she had learned a great deal simply by being with him.

But he had been by no means preparing her to take over from him. His plans for her future had been very different, as she had suddenly, and painfully, discovered.

In her small elegant bathroom, she stripped and showered slowly, letting the water pour through her hair and down her body. She dried herself without haste, and wrapped in a fresh towel, sarong-style, wandered back to the bedroom and stretched out on her bed.

She felt infinitely weary, but sleep eluded her just the same. There was too much on her mind, she thought, punching the pillow. And if she was honest, the problem about the takeover wasn’t foremost in her thoughts as it should have been.

Jago, it seemed, was back, and possibly planning to stay. She had banked very heavily on never having to see him again, but if he was really going to be around as a permanent feature, she didn’t see how this could be avoided. It wasn’t that large a town. Nor could she leave. This was where Landons had its head office, so she couldn’t run, no matter how much she might want to.

Not that there was any logic in that, she castigated herself scornfully. There was no reason why she and Jago should not meet in a perfectly civilised manner. She’d got over that heartbreaking, desperate, adolescent love for him a long time ago. He couldn’t hurt her again, so what was she afraid of?

The million-dollar question, Ashley thought ironically.

She bit her lip savagely. As a future wife for a man like Jago Marrick, she’d been a disaster, but as Silas’ successor, she thought she had enjoyed a modest success. She had felt desperately isolated at first in her new eminence, but she had listened carefully, and made full use of all the experience and expertise which had been offered.

She sighed. Yet in spite of all her efforts, the board still didn’t trust her, or have any real confidence in her, and all her buried insecurities were burrowing to the surface, nagging and gnawing at her mind. She was not quite twenty-two, after all, and not very old to be doing battle for her share of the market place—a fact of which Marshalls were clearly well aware. Their board obviously regarded the present takeover attempt as no contest, and if she was honest, she could see little way of stopping them.

If it was any other company, she thought ruefully. But stories of Marshalls’ shoddy dealings and poor workmanship were rife in the industry, and they had already brought a libel action against a well-known satirical magazine which had lambasted them over a new shopping centre, threatened with structural collapse. They had won their case on a technicality, but with derisory damages.

Yet they were still wealthy enough, and endowed with sufficient clout to be bidding for Landons. They knew that their only chance of success was appealing to the inherent greed of human nature. And shareholders, in this respect, were just as human as anyone else.

The sudden trill of the phone beside the bed startled her, and she stared at it resentfully, wishing she’d had the foresight to disconnect it. She waited for the caller to get tired of waiting, and ring off, but it didn’t happen. Few people knew she was back, she thought, so perhaps it was Henry calling to apprise her of some new development. And it was clear he wasn’t giving up, so she lifted the receiver.

‘Hello,’ she said grudgingly.