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Fiancee By Mistake
Kate Walker
Driving home for Christmas, Leah's car landed in a snow-filled ditch, and she was rescued by Sean Gallagher, who took her to his home to recover.Leah couldn't believe it! Sean was convinced that Leah had got engaged to his brother, then run away. It was as if he hated her…and desired her. As the burning need between them grew more intense, Leah fought to resist: Sean seemed determined to prove she was a wanton…by seducing her into his bed…
“I want an apology,” Leah demanded.
“An apology? For what?”
“For trying to seduce me!”
There, it was out. But Sean’s reaction was not at all what she had anticipated.
“For seducing you?” he echoed. “Oh, no, my darling Leah, I don’t apologize for anything that felt so right, so necessary. As a matter of fact, I would very much like to try it again some time.”
She glared at him furiously. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you touch me again!”
“Is that a fact?” he drawled lazily. “Well, in that case I’d better make sure that I have a very cold shower instead of the hot one I had planned on. Are you sure I can’t persuade you to join me?”
KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, England, but as she grew up in Yorkshire, she has always felt that her roots were there. She met her husband at university and she originally worked as a children’s librarian but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their four cats and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theatre and, of course, reading.
Fiancée by Mistake
Kate Walker
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ONE
SEAN GALLAGHER saw the car as soon as he rounded the corner into the quiet country lane. Saw it and recognised it as the one he had been looking for, fruitlessly, for the past couple of hours. A silver Renault, Pete had said, and here it was, right in front of him, just when he’d been about to give up.
‘Got you!’ he muttered, his voice rich with dark triumph. Little Miss Annie Elliot hadn’t escaped from him after all.
But the next moment his mood changed abruptly. As the wind stilled for a second, revealing what the swirling eddies of snow had hidden from him until now, he jammed on his brakes with a speed and force that were positively dangerous in the treacherous conditions.
‘Hell and damnation!’
Forcing his attention back to his driving, he controlled the powerful car with an effort, bringing it safely to the side of the road. The last thing he wanted was to join his quarry in the ditch.
It looked as if she had hit a patch of ice and skidded off the road. Hardly surprising, really, when you considered how the narrow lane twisted and turned, and how the snowstorm that had suddenly sprung up out of nowhere had rapidly developed into the worst blizzard in living memory.
Probably driving too fast in her eagerness to put plenty of space between herself and the mess she had left behind her, he decided cynically, getting out of the car and turning up his coat collar against the biting force of the wind. Her mind wouldn’t have been on what she was doing, but full of the new lover she had abandoned Pete for.
Well, her bad luck was very definitely his gain. Or, rather, Pete’s. Personally, he didn’t give a damn whether he found this woman or not. But a promise was a promise.
It was then that the silence, the total lack of movement inside the other car struck home to him, making him curse again, more violently this time. A promise was a promise, but this was a situation that neither he nor his brother had anticipated. What if the woman in the driving seat was badly injured, or worse?
With his head bent, his hair blown into wild disarray, he made his way towards the Renault as swiftly as he could, with his feet slipping and sliding over the frozen surface of the road.
‘Can I help you?’
They had to be the most wonderful words in the world, Leah thought hazily. The trouble was that with her mind still spinning from the panic of only moments before she couldn’t quite believe she had actually heard them.
Was it possible that they were not real, but only a figment of her imagination?
‘Can you…?’
As she echoed the question she didn’t dare to open her eyes, fearful that if she did she would discover that her deep-voiced rescuer didn’t exist.
‘Do you need help? Are you all right?’
The man’s tone—for it was unquestionably a masculine voice, dark and huskily sensual—sharpened noticeably on the question.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘Don’t think so.’
Mentally Leah checked herself over, carefully ticking off parts of her body on an invisible list.
Legs, two, intact. Arms, ditto, though one felt rather sore, as if badly bruised. Her shoulders ached miserably, and she felt as if she had jarred her back in the frantic effort to control the dangerous spin of the car, but it seemed she was still in one piece.
Unless…
Her closed lids flew open, violet eyes focusing swiftly on her own reflection in the car’s mirror.
No. Relief set in as she realised that the damp trail down her left cheek was not, as she had feared, the trickle of blood. Instead it had been caused by a single weak tear, probably the result of shock and disorientation. She hadn’t even been aware of having shed it.
Suddenly she was desperately, horribly cold. She was unable to decide whether the shiver that shook her was the result of delayed reaction to the danger she had been in or something else. Equally, it might have been a purely physical response to the icy wind that sneaked past the powerful frame of the man who held the car’s front door wide open.
‘Could you give me a definite answer?’
The voice was harsh now, jolting her out of her near dreamlike state and back into full awareness of the present. Of course, he must have seen her crash—seen her small car skid suddenly, veering right off the road and onto the rough verge at its edge. Naturally he was concerned.
‘I’m sorry…’
The words died in her throat, shrivelled into an unbelieving silence as she shifted in her seat, her eyes finally focusing on the rearview mirror. With her own head no longer blocking the view from the door, she caught her first glimpse of her rescuer, and couldn’t believe what she saw.
‘I…’
Dear God, perhaps she was hallucinating after all. It must be the after-effects of shock, or perhaps she had hit her head hard enough to scramble her wits. Knights on white chargers didn’t exist in reality, and they certainly did not appear in such a devastating physical form. She couldn’t be seeing what she thought was there.
‘Of course I can.’ This time she managed to get the words out, swivelling in her seat to face him as she spoke. ‘I—I’m fine.’ Oh, Lord, this was no better! In fact it was far worse. No matter how hard she forced herself to concentrate, her fuddled brain still registered exactly the same thing, confirming that what she had seen in the mirror was not the illusion she had believed, but actual fact.
The mirror image had softened the impact of hard, strongly carved cheekbones, a straight nose, a firm slash of a mouth, stunningly bright blue eyes and a shock of longish, rather wild black hair. The dramatic effect of that forceful profile etched against the darkness was matched by the imposing height and strength of the body that filled the open doorway, the man before her having to stoop quite considerably in order to look her in the eye.
But the impossible thing was that those features, that powerful frame, could only belong to one man. And it was his identity that made Leah doubt her sanity at this moment.
‘No!’
Weakly she shook her head, hoping to dispel the tormenting vision. Even in her wildest dreams she had never fantasised that she might meet up with Sean Gallagher. After all, he was the latest TV heart-throb, the man whose appearance in a hugely successful drama series had had the effect of bringing almost the entire female population of Great Britain to a complete halt every Thursday night.
‘No?’ her rescuer questioned, no softening evident in his tone. ‘Is that, No, there’s nothing wrong, or, No, you’re not fine after all? For God’s sake, woman! Can you string two coherent words together or not?’
‘Of course I can!’
Incensed by his rudeness, Leah’s impatience matched his now, anger sharpening her words. So much for fantasy, she told herself ruefully. Sean Gallagher might be the hunk of the year—of the decade—but it seemed that his stunning looks were in no way matched by an equally appealing character.
‘Yes, I’m fine. No, I’m not injured—at least as far as I can tell. But as I haven’t tried to stand up yet I can’t exactly swear to the total accuracy of that statement. Does that satisfy you, or would you like to interrogate me a bit more?’
‘Well, on the evidence of that outburst, I would have to agree that you are obviously not badly hurt.’ The thread of dry humour that warmed his attractive voice had an effect that was almost as devastating as the smile that softened and curved his hard mouth. ‘But I take exception to your use of the word “interrogate”—’
‘Except away!’ Leah returned sharply, riled by the mockery in his words. ‘You may be God’s gift to women, but you’re clearly not going to win any prizes for sensitivity. Has no one ever told you that someone who has just hit a patch of black ice and spun off the road into a ditch might actually be some way from fully in control? There is such a thing as shock, you know, and…’
‘I know, and I’m sorry.’
Unexpected gentleness drew the force of her tirade, reducing her to stunned silence. He actually looked shamefaced too, she acknowledged, grudgingly conceding him a favourable point or two.
‘I was pretty shocked myself. After all, I’ve driven along this road day and night for weeks without seeing anyone. So you can imagine how I felt when I came round the corner to find your car nose-down in the ditch. Was that what happened? You hit a patch of ice?’
‘I think so.’
Leah’s voice was no longer as confident as it had been before. Her memories of the actual accident were hazy, and trying to recall them was distinctly unsettling.
‘I was driving along—crawling, really, because of the weather—and suddenly the car seemed to have a will of its own. It went into an uncontrollable skid, and the next thing I knew was that I was here…’
And where was here? She should have been over halfway to her mother’s by now, but in the appalling driving conditions she had missed the exit off the motorway and had had to take a smaller side road in order to get back to the route she wanted.
She’d made another wrong turning later, and was then hopelessly lost. As a result, she wasn’t at all sure where she’d ended up, only that it was somewhere in the wilds of Yorkshire, and obviously miles from anywhere. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen a single house, let alone anything resembling civilisation.
And, if she was honest, her thoughts hadn’t exactly been on what she was doing. Foolishly, considering the whirling snow and swiftly dropping temperature, she had been distracted by the problems that had been fretting at her mind all week. That was why she had missed her turn-off in the first place.
‘I think you’d better get out of there. It doesn’t look exactly safe,’ her rescuer advised. ‘Can you stand?’
‘I think so.’
It was more of a struggle than she had anticipated. For one thing the front of the car was at a very awkward angle, one that necessitated an ungainly shuffle and an even less ladylike scramble in order to get her legs out of the door.
‘Here—’ Sean Gallagher held out a hand encased in a dark leather glove. ‘Let me help.’
It was only a hand, Leah told herself. And all he wanted to do was help. So why was she suddenly gripped by a rush of something that was neither fear nor excitement but a disturbingly volatile mixture of the two? Why did she feel that to touch him would…?
Would what? Now you’re being silly, she reproved herself sharply. Did she expect that just to take hold of his hand would spark off some explosion? Contaminate her in some way? Be sensible, Leah!
But common sense and reason seemed to have nothing to do with the way she was feeling. It was as if some primitive instinct older than time was warning her not to risk even the slightest contact with this man.
‘I can manage!’
She heard the words before she actually realised that her tongue had formed them and knew they were a mistake from the way his dark head went back, the long, powerful body stiffening in hostile response to her tone.
‘Suit yourself.’
It was curt, sharply dismissive, but what else had she expected? After all, her own inner unease had tightened her throat, making her declaration sound uncharacteristically tart and cold.
And, to compound the problem, her undignified scramble to get out of the car without any help had taken more effort than she’d realised. It had also resulted in the rucking up of the skirt of her red velvet dress, pulling it high up on her thighs.
Not for the first time Leah cursed the way her sudden decision to spend an extra day of the Christmas holidays at home had meant leaving in a rush straight after the agency’s party.
Her mother wasn’t even expecting her, believing that she wouldn’t be setting out until tomorrow morning. But Paula Elliot had sounded so sad and lonely when Leah had phoned her that she had decided on impulse to leave earlier. After all, Christmas was a time for families, and, without her father there, there was only Leah herself to fill that space in her mother’s life.
If she had planned more carefully, she could have found time to change into something much more appropriate for the long drive north. As it was, not anticipating the blizzard conditions that had set in once she was on the motorway, she had simply pulled on a warm coat over her party wear.
But a tight velvet Lycra sheath was definitely not the easiest of garments in which to manoeuvre her way out of a car perched at such a difficult angle. Particularly not with six feet two of very masculine hunk watching her every move with blatantly appraising interest.
‘Very nice,’ he murmured as Leah inched her way forward, wanting desperately to be upright and decently covered again as quickly as possible.
Those amazing blue eyes were on the slender length of her legs, brightening noticeably as an unwary movement pushed the tight skirt even higher, revealing the pale flesh of her thighs above the lacy tops of her stockings.
‘So tell me, what do you do for an encore?’ he asked provocatively.
‘Nothing!’
Leah aimed for freezing distance and missed it by a mile. Her snapped retort ended with a gasp of shock as, with her feet finally on the ground, she realised just how icy the road had become. The worn leather soles of the old shoes she wore for driving had no grip at all on the treacherous surface, and she felt her feet begin to slide from under her.
With a cry of panic, her hand went out automatically to grab at the nearest thing for support.
The ‘nearest thing’ was Sean Gallagher’s arm. Leah’s flailing fingers closed over the soft wool of his jacket sleeve just as, reacting with swift reflexes, he moved his other hand to come round her waist. He took the full weight of her body on that one arm with as much ease as if she had been a petite slip of a thing, and not five feet ten in her stockinged feet and built on decidedly generous lines, with curving hips and softly voluptuous breasts.
‘There will be no encore, Mr Gallagher!’ Leah managed, rather breathlessly.
