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Because, if she were weak, Cormac would take advantage. Every advantage. Easily.
Lizzie swallowed, resolve tightening in her middle. She could do this. She had to.
Dressed, her hair tumbled artfully about her shoulders, with a slick of make-up to help her feel better, Lizzie felt ready to face the world. To face Cormac.
She’d been shocked by his cruel statement of facts, his cold certainty that she was trapped. Shocked and even a bit hurt by the evidence of Cormac’s brutal manipulation, his indifferent admission to such calculating coldness. Yet she realised he’d been warning her. This is who I am. That, in itself, was a kindness.
A warning she wouldn’t forget.
‘Well,’ she murmured to her reflection, ‘you wanted to seize life, you wanted the adventure. Here it is.’ Smiling ruefully, she turned away.
‘So,’ she said briskly when she returned to their bedroom, ‘do you think this Stears is a threat? To us?’
Cormac glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ‘No one is a threat,’ he stated flatly, ‘to me.’
‘Oh, stop being so arrogant!’ Lizzie exclaimed. ‘If there’s a possibility of exposure, I need to know.’
‘There isn’t,’ he informed her, ‘as long as you continue to play your role.’
‘I will,’ she promised, an edge to her voice. ‘No more second thoughts.’
‘Good.’
If only she had some hold over him, Lizzie thought morosely as she slipped on a simple pendant, the only jewellery she had. Cormac had forgotten the little detail of jewellery, though it hardly mattered.
If she had some leverage, she would feel more in control. Less afraid. Then she might even enjoy this wretched weekend.
The trouble was, she had nothing. No power, no control. Cormac held all the cards…and he knew it.
‘So how are you going to explain your marriage to this Stears?’ she asked when they were ready to leave the room.
Cormac shrugged. ‘I’ll tell him the same story as everyone else.’ He glanced at her sharply. ‘And don’t, for the love of God, compensate by acting like some doting idiot. Stears knows I’d never marry someone like that.’
‘Who would you marry?’ Lizzie asked on impulse, and he gave her a dark look.
‘Remember,’ he warned, ‘I’m not a family man. I’m just playing one.’ Tucking her arm into his, he smiled. ‘Ready, sweetheart?’
Lizzie tried to smile. It felt like bending cardboard. ‘Ready.’
The sun was just beginning to set, turning the horizon a deep pink, the sea streaked with orange below.
It was a stunning sight and Lizzie paused in the corridor on the way to the lounge, Cormac coming to a halt next to her.
She breathed in the sea air, fresh and fragrant, a lover’s caress. She could hear the lap of the waves against the shore, the gentle clanking of two rowing boats tied to a weathered dock.
A brightly coloured bird skimmed above the water before flying into the vivid horizon.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured.
‘Yes, and this time next year, five hundred more people will be able to enjoy it.’
She glanced at him, saw the hard line of his clenched jaw, the way he gazed out at the sea as if it were another world to conquer.
‘Do you think of everything in terms of your buildings?’ she asked, and he turned to stare at her.
‘Of course.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s an obsession with you.’
He gave a hard smile. ‘A calling.’ From the lounge there was a trill of feminine laughter and he took her elbow. ‘Come on, they’re waiting.’
Lizzie took a deep breath, steeled herself to begin the performance. At least she looked the part.
The sundress she wore clung to her curves before flaring out around her calves. It was simple, yet obviously expensive and well made. She even enjoyed the sensual pleasure of wearing it, something she was unaccustomed to. At least it was one thing she could enjoy this weekend.
She glanced at Cormac. He wore a suit in tan silk, the excellent cut and exquisite fabric moulding to his lithe, muscular frame. With his bronzed skin and eyes as bright as jade, he looked stunning, beautiful, his movements lithe and filled with an easy power.
As they entered the lounge, Lizzie was conscious of the conversation dying down and three couples turning to look expectantly at the new arrivals.
Jan rose and went to greet them. ‘Cormac, Elizabeth! Come and meet our other guests.’
Lizzie smiled, aware of Cormac’s hand on her elbow, his body next to hers, his strength and his heat. Everyone was looking at them as if they were a couple. As if they were in love.
Because, she reminded herself, for all intents and purposes, they were.
‘I’m Dan White. I’ve heard about your work.’A friendly looking man with a wide smile and an American accent shook Cormac’s hand and kissed Lizzie’s cheek. He introduced his wife, Wendy, an attractive brunette who was quite obviously pregnant.
Lizzie took in her bump, Dan’s protective arm around her waist, and realised how forced their own charade must seem. Standing in front of her was the real thing.
‘Good to see you, Cormac.’A tall, lithe man uncoiled himself from the sofa to smile lazily at the pair of them before offering Cormac a rather limp handshake. His dark, sharp eyes took in Lizzie. ‘Funny, I never heard that you’d married.’
‘We kept it secret,’ Cormac replied smoothly. His hand snaked around Lizzie’s waist, drew her closer to him, her breasts brushing his chest. ‘Didn’t we, darling?’
‘We did,’ Lizzie agreed, and then surprised herself by giving a low, throaty chuckle. ‘You know what Cormac’s reputation was like, obviously, so I’m sure you can understand why we wanted to keep our heads down for a bit.’
‘Indeed.’ Geoffrey looked at her appraisingly, and Lizzie forced herself to smile back with a breezy confidence she was far from feeling. ‘This is my wife, Lara.’ He gestured to the woman next to him—blonde, feline and elegant, with a hardened glamour. She smiled, although there was no warmth in her eyes.
‘Good to see you again, Cormac.’
Lizzie felt a frisson of alarm that bordered on panic as she saw Lara smile at Cormac with all too intimate a knowledge. Her grey eyes glimmered with seductive promise, and Lizzie knew these two had history.
Sexual history.
The thought both frightened her—a woman like this would sense a fake, a virgin—and, absurdly, stabbed her with jealousy.
She couldn’t be envious of Lara. She wasn’t actually Cormac’s wife. She didn’t even like him. At all. Yet the feeling was there—real, raw. Ridiculous.
‘May I fetch you a drink?’ Jan enquired, and Lizzie asked for an orange juice. Cormac had the same and she was reminded again of how he didn’t seem to drink alcohol.
The next half hour was a blur of chit-chat and Lizzie was relieved to fade into the background as the men talked about architecture. Hilda chatted cozily with Wendy about pregnancy and babies and, after a short reprieve of silence, Lizzie found herself face to face with a smirking Lara.
‘So, how long have you and Cormac known each other?’
‘I’ve been working for him for two years,’ Lizzie replied, mindful of Cormac’s warning to stick to the truth as much as possible.
‘And then you just fell in love?’The sneer in Lara’s voice was obvious, as was the disbelief.
‘Pretty much.’ Lizzie took a gulp of orange juice.
‘Really.’ Lara sipped her own drink. ‘Cormac never seemed the marrying type to me.’
‘You know him well?’ Lizzie didn’t want to hear the answer, but she knew Lara would volunteer the information in one way or another.
‘Oh, yes.’ Lara laughed, a rich, knowing chuckle. ‘Cormac and I go way back. Before Geoffrey,’ she added with heavy emphasis. The meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
‘You had an affair, I suppose,’ Lizzie said after a moment, and was gratified to see Lara look both surprised and discomfited. ‘I know all about his women,’ she confided, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. ‘Not their names, of course, but I’d have to have had blinkers on not to know that Cormac is popular with the ladies.’ She glanced over at him—confident, relaxed, deep in discussion with Jan—and felt her heart twist. Was he manipulating him, too? Of course he was. Just as he’d manipulated her.
She smiled back at Lara, a smile of knowledge, of power, of confidence. Nothing she felt at the moment. ‘I suppose he was just looking for the right woman, wasn’t he?’ she said. ‘And now he’s found her.’
Lara’s eyes were like pewter as she stood up. ‘I suppose he has,’ she said coolly, and turned away.
Lizzie took another sip of orange juice. She felt dizzy, strange, and she wasn’t even drinking alcohol. She thought of the words she’d spoken to Lara, almost wished them to be true.
He changed…for me.
Ha!
Cormac was never going to change, and she didn’t even want him to. She hated him. Almost.
Except right now, glancing over at him as he talked to Jan, she wondered. She wondered just what drove him, what had flickered in his eyes like desperation, what made him…him.
Who was he?
No one you want to know, she told herself grimly, and turned to smile cheerily at Hilda.
She wasn’t what he had expected. The realisation both surprised and annoyed him. He didn’t like variables. Uncertainties.
He made sure he never had any.
Yet Lizzie, Cormac acknowledged with a faint frown, was just that. Unpredictable. One minute she was nervous, timid, easily controlled. The next she resisted, fought back, bared her tiny claws.
She was like a baby tiger, a kitten, trying to fight against the leader of the pack. At least, he thought, she was learning that with him she couldn’t win.
Still, she required careful handling.
He turned back to Jan, tried to focus on his lengthy lecture about the island’s history, the need to preserve it.
He knew all this already, had researched Sint Rimbert and the Hassell family so he could practically recite it all himself.
He prided himself on being meticulous.
Yet he hadn’t been meticulous about Lizzie. He hadn’t known her well enough to realise how she would disturb him, how he would desire her.
That had been a surprise—pleasant, but unexpected. He’d never considered Lizzie Chandler in a sexual way until he’d seen her in that grubby bra, looking defiant and vulnerable and strangely sexy.
Seduction was a weapon. Cormac used it well. It was an enjoyable line of attack, but he would have to choose his moment carefully. He had a feeling that Lizzie was perfectly capable of ruining everything simply because she thought her feelings had been hurt.
Idly Cormac found himself remembering how soft, how silky her hair had been, twined between his fingers. He wondered if her waist was as slender as it seemed, so that his own two hands could span it. If her breasts would fill his palm, and if her skin was as smooth and golden all over as it was in the parts he could see.
Lust, pure and simple. He had to be careful.
Someone laughed and Cormac turned to see Dan talking to Jan. Jan clearly approved of the American, the devotion he poured on with saccharine adoration.
Dan was playing the part, Cormac thought, and playing it well. He’d dismissed Stears as a second-rater, and one who wasn’t bothering to charm Jan. Even his wife looked sulky and bored. But the Whites—they were a threat.
Cormac watched as Dan rested a loving hand on his wife’s bump and she clasped her own hand over his. It was a simple, intimate gesture, barely noticeable, and yet the very carelessness of it made him realise how artificial his relationship with Lizzie really was.
They didn’t touch each other with careless spontaneity, easy affection. Every movement was calculated, tense.
Fake.
If Hassell didn’t guess, he had a feeling Stears would, and then he’d whisper it into Jan’s ear. Even though he didn’t think Hassell would believe such poison, he didn’t care for the man to have doubts…especially when he planned to tell him later of their divorce.
It would be easy enough for a man like Hassell to change his mind, wriggle out of the contract. Make a mess.
Cormac took a sip of his drink, wondered again why it mattered so much. Why he’d taken this risk. He could have let it go. He’d let other commissions pass.
But not this one.
‘So, congratulations are in order, it would seem,’ Geoffrey murmured, moving to sit next to Cormac. ‘Funny how quickly you married.’
‘When you know, you know,’ Cormac replied blandly.
‘Exactly.’ Geoffrey smiled, and Cormac almost laughed to think how someone like Stears could actually believe he had some kind of power. ‘And I think I know.’
‘You’re losing me, Stears.’ He spoke in a bored drawl.
‘I wonder,’ Geoffrey mused, ‘if I searched in public records for your marriage licence, what would I find?’
‘I’d love to see you explain such detective work to Jan,’ Cormac replied. ‘Forget about it, Stears.’
‘I’m not going to stand by and watch a man like you get this commission,’ Stears hissed.
Cormac swivelled to regard him with cold, blank eyes. ‘A man like me?’ he queried politely.
Geoffrey smirked. ‘You’ve clawed your way to the top, haven’t you, Douglas? You still bear the scars. I know people are impressed with your designs, your drive, but you don’t belong. You never did and you never will.’
Cormac gave a slight shake of his head. ‘People are looking, Geoffrey. I think you might want to calm yourself.’
