скачать книгу бесплатно
The Bride In Blue
Miranda Lee
Wedlocked! Brotherly love… ?It was Sophia's wedding day, but she wasn't a happy and radiant bride. How could she feel anything but blue when she wasn't marrying Godfrey, the man she'd loved and the father of the baby she was expecting? Instead she was to wed Godfrey's younger brother.Jonathon Parnell was coldly handsome, and ruthless about carrying out the deathbed promise he'd made to Godfrey: to marry Sophia and give their baby legitimacy and financial security. Jonathon had assured Sophia that this would be a marriage in name only, but now she was beginning to realize that he expected her to act the role of his wife - in every sense… ."Another display of superb storytelling." - Romantic Times
Table of Contents
Cover (#u3ff969ee-44c3-527d-8a92-7261c1c2e249)
Excerpt (#u7cf746bf-ef60-5d24-b83f-98798035cac8)
About the Author (#u345ea54e-f3ea-5a41-888c-694bc2acc587)
Title Page (#u2c180c79-eb6f-56a6-ab10-3e99881bf3e2)
Chapter One (#u4625bfb2-4756-5cb0-8015-7be22f6357bc)
Chapter Two (#u6410ccd4-206b-5c6f-8bdd-e3b446f4b409)
Chapter Three (#ue1348abb-8893-58f2-828d-f91687dab4b6)
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)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I’m a fool, a silly little fool!”
His face softened at her distress. “No, not a silly fool. A sweet, trusting soul who needs a crash course in life if she’s to survive in this world. You lived a fantasy life with Godfrey, Sophia. It wasn’t real. My brother always ran away from life and, for a while, so did you. Maybe it’s time you joined the real world…saw what real men are like!”
“What…what do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean.”
MIRANDA LEE is Australian, living near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school educated and briefly pursued a classical music career before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three grown-up daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include reading meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.
Miranda Lee is the author of Hearts of Fire.
The Bride In Blue
Miranda Lee
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_5d917695-9413-5095-a3a7-987cc18fe978)
‘IT’S time, Sophia.’
A shudder rippled down Sophia’s spine at the sound of the quietly spoken words. Taking a deep steadying breath, she turned from where she’d been standing at the bedroom window, staring blindly out at the lengthening shadows.
She tried not to look as wretched as she felt. After all, a bride was supposed to be happy on her wedding-day. But it was impossible to smile, or feel anything other than depressed.
The man who was about to become her husband filled the open doorway, looking impressive in a beautifully tailored grey three-piece suit. Sophia had always thought him a strikingly handsome man, with his strongly sculptured face, jet-black hair and compelling blue eyes. But it was a cold, forbidding kind of beauty, and she had never warmed to it. She shivered when his dark brows drew together, narrowed eyes sweeping over her.
‘You’re not wearing white,’ he said brusquely.
Gulping, she glanced down at the pale blue suit she herself had chosen, mostly because the softly pleated skirt and thigh-length jacket disguised her rapidly changing figure. It had a matching hat—a small soft thing with a blue flower on one side and a wispy veil that came down over her forehead.
When Wilma had tried to steer her towards something white, she’d been firm in her refusal. White would have been hypocritical. Not because she thought herself impure, but because her wedding was not a romantic wedding. It was simply the fulfilling of a deathbed promise.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not.’
Her succinct answer was not inspired by defiance but by fear. Jonathon Parnell frightened the life out of her.
Sophia had never met a man as intimidating as Godfrey’s younger brother. Not even Joe, her bullying stepfather, had produced the sorts of reactions in her this man could produce. She fairly quailed in Jonathon’s presence, becoming tongue-tied or simply stupid. Sometimes she even stammered, which was why she tried to answer him in monosyllables.
‘You were entitled to wear white,’ he growled. ‘Any wrongdoing lay entirely with my brother.’
Her dark brown eyes flung wide at this unjust misreading of what Godfrey had supposedly done. Perhaps he should have told her he was married, but there had been no heartless seduction, no taking advantage of her tender age, or forcing her against her will. She’d gone to his bed willingly and would have done it more than that one time, if she’d had the chance.
But of course, she hadn’t had the chance. Godfrey had collapsed the following day and within a few short weeks, he was gone. She would never see him again. He would never see his baby…
Tears filled her eyes.
‘Come now, don’t cry,’ Jonathon ordered curtly, drawing a snow-white handkerchief out of his jacket pocket as he strode across the room. ‘What’s done is done. Don’t go messing up those lovely eyes of yours.’
This most uncharacteristic compliment flustered Sophia, as did the feel of Jonathon’s large hands pressing the handkerchief into her tremulous fingers.
That was another of the things about him that she found intimidating. His size. He was a very big man. Not only tall, but powerfully built with broad shoulders, a massive chest and long muscular legs.
Godfrey had been much shorter and of a slight build, with elegant, almost feminine hands. He hadn’t towered over Sophia’s five-foot-two frame as his brother did; hadn’t made her feel like a child by comparison. Jonathon could pick her up and snap her in two, if he wanted to.
‘Th-thanks,’ she said, her voice and hands both shaking as she dabbed at her eyes.
‘Why do you always act as though you’re scared to death of me?’ Jonathon growled.
There was something other than exasperation in his voice that made her glance up at him through her soggy lashes. But the hard blue eyes that looked back at her were as remote and unreadable as ever.
‘I…I d-don’t mean to,’ she whispered, but her husky stammering belied her words.
A guilty remorse curled her stomach. The man deserved better than her irrational and no doubt irritating nervousness whenever he came within three feet of her. His treatment of her since Godfrey’s death had been impeccable. He’d brought her to live in his own home, provided her with every material thing she could possibly want, even had his own secretary befriend her so that she wouldn’t be lonely for female companionship.
And now…now he was about to give her what no other person could. The name of Parnell for her baby. Her beloved Godfrey’s name.
The least she could do was show gratitude, not fear. After all, he wasn’t expecting anything from her in return. The marriage would be in name only, to be quietly terminated at some future date.
‘Smile, then,’ he commanded.
The smile she dragged up proved acting was not her forte. When Jonathon sighed, Sophia’s smile faded, her wretchedness returning. Only by a supreme effort of will did she keep the tears at bay.
His hand on her arm was as firm as his voice. ‘Come along. People are waiting.’
Instant alarm had her resisting his pull. ‘People? But I thought…I mean…’
Jonathon’s face carried frustration. ‘For pity’s sake, don’t get me wrong. People does not mean a crowd. There’s only Mother, Harvey, Wilma, Maud and the celebrant. OK?’ he asked with exaggerated patience.
Her eyes told him that things were far from OK, but she nodded her compliance.
‘Shall we go, then?’
‘I suppose so,’ she replied resignedly, the first smoothly delivered answer she had ever given him. Odd that it seemed to irk him as much as her usual gibberish.
Sophia realised at that moment that Godfrey’s brother found everything about her a trial of the first order, not just her lack of confidence and sophistication. He’d done his best to hide his frustration with her and the unenviable position his vow to his brother had put him in, but she could see now that the coolly aloof manner he adopted with her hid a very real annoyance.
The thought upset her, so much so that as Jonathon was leading her down the wide sweeping staircase, she felt impelled to say something.
‘Jonathon,’ she began, doing her very best not to stammer or bumble her way over his name.
Unfortunately, he stopped walking and looked over at her, the last thing she wanted. That cold blue gaze was as unnerving as the rest of him. ‘What?’
Sophia licked dry lips before launching forth. ‘I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate what you’re doing today. I…I also wanted to reassure you that I’ll set you free of me as soon as possible.’
There! She’d managed to say it all with only the one little slip-up. She even managed a small smile.
Not, however, with any good effect. That wintry gaze grew frostier, if anything.
Dismay washed through her as her earlier conclusion about Jonathon’s feelings was confirmed. Nothing she could say or do would ever really please him. As soon as possible was not soon enough.
‘I think, Sophia,’ he returned coolly, ‘that Godfrey had a more permanent arrangement in mind when he made me promise to marry you. He wanted his child not only to carry the name of Parnell, but to be brought up a Parnell with all the advantages that would give him or her. Of course, I appreciate that you might wish to be free to find another man like Godfrey to share your life with, which is why I originally suggested a divorce after your baby is born. But please do not feel any pressure to set me free of this marriage.’
‘But I can’t stay married to you,’ she protested. ‘Not…not forever!’
His shoulders lifted and fell in a nonchalant shrug. ‘I am not suggesting you do. I am, however, telling you that there’s no hurry on my part to get another divorce. You’ve lived here for several weeks without disturbing my equilibrium. In fact, you seem to have fitted into the household exceptionally well. Both Mother and Maud have grown quite fond of you. Since I have no intention of ever marrying again, feel free to embrace the sanctuary of being married to me for as long as you like.’
His mouth pulled back into a sardonic smile. ‘If you are concerned for my sex life, then don’t give it a second thought. I have never had any trouble finding women to keep me well satisfied in that regard and see no reason why I shall in future. Naturally, I will be discreet. And I expect you to be the same,’ he finished on a sharper note.
She stared at him, her eyes rounding. Did he mean what she thought he meant? Did he honestly think that at four months pregnant she would go looking for…for…?
A fierce blush invaded her cheeks. ‘I don’t think you’ll have to worry about me on that score,’ she flung at him, outrage making her words flow. ‘I loved Godfrey, and I will love him to my dying day. There will be no other man for me. Not ever!’
The corner of his mouth lifted in a cynical fashion. ‘A nobly romantic sentiment, I’m sure, but not a very realistic one. You’re only nineteen, Sophia. A young woman not yet in her sexual prime. Some day, there’ll be another man for you.’
‘Maybe so,’ she said heatedly, ‘but certainly not in the next five months. I don’t know how you could suggest such a disgusting thing. I’m carrying Godfrey’s child!’
Their eyes clashed and for a split-second Sophia could have sworn she glimpsed something dark and dangerous swirl within those icy blue depths.
‘Is there anything wrong, Jonathon?’ came a shaky query from below.
Both of their heads snapped around and down.
Ivy Parnell stood at the bottom of the staircase, a frail, white-haired figure dressed in a grey chiffon dress that had a draining effect on her equally grey face. She was looking up at them with a worried expression in her faded blue eyes.
‘Not at all, Mother,’ Jonathon returned smoothly. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
‘You sounded as if you were arguing,’ came her plaintive remark when they joined her on the Persian rug that covered the black and white tiled foyer.
‘Sophia was under the misconception that I might want a divorce as soon as her baby is born,’ Jonathon explained. ‘I was reassuring her that wasn’t the case.’
Ivy turned alarmed eyes towards Sophia. ‘Dear child, you shouldn’t be worrying about such things at this moment. Why, even when you and Jonathon do eventually get divorced, you’re going to stay here with us and we’re going to look after you and your baby just as poor Godfrey wanted. We all love you already, don’t we, Jonathon? You’re the daughter I never had, the sister Jonathon never had. Tell her she must stay.’
Though touched by Ivy’s warmth and kindness, Sophia only needed a quick glance Jonathon’s way to see he didn’t concur with his mother’s sentiments. There was no affection for her in his staunchly held face, not even a brotherly one. She was a burden he had to endure, a cross he had to bear. All she could hope was that time would soften his hard heart towards her. Maybe when his niece or nephew was born, his attitude might change. Babies had a way of winding themselves around even the hardest of hearts.
And she did want Jonathon to warm to her. He was the brother of the man she’d loved so very deeply. She wanted her baby’s uncle to like her at least. It hurt her that he didn’t seem to, especially when she didn’t know why exactly.
To be honest, she didn’t like him much either. He made her so uncomfortable. Maybe she made him just as uncomfortable. One didn’t always need a reason to dislike someone. It could be an instinctive reaction.
Come to think of it, Jonathon had been cold to her from the very first moment they’d met, in Godfrey’s hospital room. At the time she’d thought he was embarrassed, because he’d walked in on them embracing, but, looking back, she believed there had been an instant antagonism on his part.
‘I’ve already told Sophia she was welcome to stay,’ Jonathon informed his mother somewhat impatiently. ‘And that there’s no hurry for a divorce. What there is some hurry for, however, is the marriage itself. The celebrant told me he has another appointment at six, so let’s go in.’
The celebrant looked relieved as the three of them entered the formal sitting-room where the ceremony was to take place. So did the others.
Wilma shot Jonathon a reproachful glare, which brought a tiny smile to Sophia’s lips. Wilma did not fit the stereotyped image of a tycoon’s private secretary. She wasn’t at all beautiful or glamorous or gushingly attentive of her boss. She was pushing forty—skinny, plain, opinionated and downright prickly.
She had been Mr Parnell Senior’s secretary before he died, Jonathon inheriting her, along with the family business. In Wilma’s words, their relationship had been rocky for a while, but in the end, she and Jonathon had forged an understanding.
Sophia was astounded at the way Wilma spoke to her boss at times, but there again, Jonathon gave as good as he got. Worse, most of the time. Sophia suspected that if she’d been his secretary she’d have quit within a week. In a weird way she gained a degree of secret satisfaction at Wilma’s liberated stance.
Wilma’s scowl vanished when she shifted her regard to Sophia. Now she smiled, mouthing, ‘You look beautiful.’ Sophia smiled back, feeling a warm gratitude swell her heart. Wilma had become a good friend over the past few weeks. If it hadn’t been for her sound common sense and pragmatic advice, Sophia suspected she might have cracked up entirely.
