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Alexander’s was a family firm. Originally owned by Keir’s father, Don, it had been an ailing, small-scale enterprise when, at twenty-one and fresh from university, Keir had taken it by the scruff of the neck and dragged it forcibly into the late twentieth century. In the following twelve years he had turned it into a huge international success. It was now impossible to travel anywhere in Europe or beyond without seeing one of Alexander’s distinctive red and green vehicles somewhere en route.
‘Did you manage to raise the amount you needed to buy your stepmother out?’
Keir’s expression gave her the answer before he spoke, a dark cloud of anger shadowing his face.
‘I raised it, but then she upped the stakes again. She says she has another potential buyer in the offing. If that sale goes through then Alexander’s as a family firm will cease to exist.’
‘And that’s so important to you?’
The look her turned on her scorched her from head to toe with its impatient contempt for the stupidity of her question.
‘Alexander’s is mine, Sienna—mine! I’m not prepared to see it the subject of some hostile take-over and swallowed up, becoming just part of another company. I promised my father that, and I’ll keep my promise if it kills me.’
‘But if your stepmother keeps asking for more?’
Keir’s scowl was blacker than ever.
‘She knows how much I’ve invested in modernising things—buying new vehicles, computers, everything over the past year. Given time, that investment will pay off, several hundredfold, but right now it’s stretched me to my limit. And Lucille knows that, damn her!’
‘How much time would you need?’
‘Twelve months, maybe less…’
Sienna knew almost to the exact second the moment that realisation dawned. She saw the subtle changes in his expression, and those dark, knowing eyes slid to her own face, fixing on it in intent appraisal.
‘That’s what you’re offering.’
It was a statement, not a question, absolute conviction ringing in his tone, and she could almost hear his astute brain working, weighing up pros and cons, subjecting the idea to shrewd and careful analysis.
‘Keir, my inheritance will make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. I’ll have more than enough to keep myself and my mother in comfort. And I’ll be able to help you out too. Oh, don’t say no!’
He was going to. She knew it just by looking at him. And now that what she hoped for, what she’d prayed might happen, was actually within reach, she couldn’t believe that fate would be unkind enough to snatch it away again, right at the last minute.
‘Keir, please don’t say no! You can pay me back if you like. But I can give you the money you need, and you can help me. I need this—we both do!’
Just what was going on inside that handsome head of his? What was that keen, calculating brain thinking? She felt like the accused in some terrible trial. As if she was standing in the dock with Keir acting as both judge and jury, very definitely counsel for the prosecution, about to attack her verbally.
For perhaps thirty of the longest seconds of her life she watched and waited. Watched him consider, debate with himself, accept certain ideas, then just as swiftly reject them. At long last he drew in a deep, uneven breath.
‘Two conditions…’ he said slowly.
‘Anything! Anything at all, if you’ll just say yes!’
‘Condition one…’ Keir marked it off on one long finger of his left hand. ‘We have a proper wedding. All the trimmings. A church ceremony, flowers, candles, the lot.’
‘Whatever you say.’
It was almost impossible to get the words out. Her pulse was racing so fast that her heart seemed to pound against her ribcage, leaving her unable to breathe properly or keep her voice in any way steady.
‘And—and condition two?’
‘After the proper wedding we have a real marriage. I won’t stand for anything else. For one thing, there’s no way we’ll convince anyone that this is the love-match you’re supposed to have by the conditions of your father’s will if we don’t look really together. It’s all or nothing.’
All or nothing. Almost from the moment that they had met she had known that Keir wanted their relationship to be a physical one. He had made no secret of the desire he felt for her, and she had been the one trying to apply the brakes. ‘Trying’ being the operative word, she acknowledged uncomfortably.
Because she couldn’t deny the effect he had on her. From the first moment that he had kissed her, an irresistible, potently sensual chemistry such as she had never known before had sparked between them. It had swept her off her feet, turned her world upside down, taking with it every long-held belief she had ever had about who she was and how she behaved.
It was all the more difficult to cope with because she had never felt like this with Dean. Dean whom she had loved, believed in, trusted. Dean to whom she had given her heart, but even then had never felt the same dangerous, wild excitement that Keir could inspire with simply a look, a touch, a brief caress. She had never understood how she could feel that attraction for a man she barely knew, let alone cared for in the deepest sort of sense.
But perhaps that same excitement would be the saving of her now. Perhaps the unnerving response she felt towards Keir would be enough to turn the fiction of a marriage she was proposing into something that would convince all observers it was actually fact.
But that still didn’t make it easy to answer. Her throat closed over a knot of powerful emotions so that all she could do was nod silently, unable to speak a word.
‘You agree?’ Keir demanded, still in Grand Inquisitor mode.
‘I—I agree.’
It was only as she forced it out that comprehension dawned, bright and vivid, blinding her with its brilliance.
She couldn’t believe it. Could it possibly be true?
‘A proper wedding!’ she gasped, struggling to collect what remained of her scattered thoughts. ‘A real marriage after a proper wedding! Keir—do you mean—are you agreeing to my proposal?’
The look he turned on her had such a scorching intensity that it seemed to sizzle through the air, sending electrical impulses along every nerve in her body. It spoke of hunger and conquest and passion. But most of all it was redolent with a desire so carnal it seemed positively indecent in the cold light of day.
‘Yes, Sienna.’
Hearing his voice, Sienna blinked in disbelief. Suddenly that blazing sensuality was gone, wiped from his face as if it had never been. His tone was emotionless, totally controlled, as blank and indifferent as his eyes, which could have been carved from dark marble they were so cold and lifeless.
‘Yes, I’m agreeing to your proposal. Under those conditions, then, yes, I will marry you.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘WELL, we did it!’
Sienna’s voice was breathless with a mixture of triumph, relief and something coming very close to panic that she prayed the man beside her wouldn’t be able to detect. The same emotions were mirrored in the sea-coloured brilliance of her eyes as she turned on him a smile edged with a tension that, try as she might, she was unable to erase completely.
‘We did it,’ Keir echoed gravely, no answering smile lighting the darkness of his own gaze as it locked with hers. ‘But did we get away with it? That’s the real question.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly!’
Sienna made the reproof as careless as was possible when her heartbeat and breathing refused to settle down into anything like their normal rhythm.
‘Of course we got away with it! Why wouldn’t we? And don’t say that—you make it sound as if we’ve done something wrong.’
‘And we haven’t?’
At his tone, the precarious euphoria that had buoyed her up evaporated in a rush, leaving her feeling disturbingly limp and deflated, like a pricked balloon.
‘No, we haven’t!’ Infuriatingly, she couldn’t give the words the conviction she wanted; a quaver she couldn’t suppress took all the certainty from her declaration.
‘Are you so sure of that? There are those who might label what we’ve done as fraud, or at the very least an attempt to swindle money from the Nash estate.’
‘I’m not swindling anyone! I am a Nash, remember? By blood, at least, if not by name. And the only person who might feel defrauded of anything is my father, or rather he might if he was still alive. But, seeing as he never took any interest in my existence from the day I was born, I very much doubt that anything I do now is going to trouble him in the least.’
Moving impulsively, she laid a hand on Keir’s arm, her fingers white against the deep colour of his superbly tailored suit as she looked up into the hard-boned strength of his face.
‘Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts at this late stage?’
‘Not second thoughts, no.’ Keir pushed one strong hand through his hair, ruffling its gleaming darkness. ‘But if we’re strictly honest we are pulling a fast one on all those people in there.’
A slight inclination of his head indicated the door at the far side of the room through which the buzz of a hundred conversations could easily be heard.
‘Especially your mother.’
‘It’s because of my mother that I’m doing this,’ Sienna reminded him in a vehement undertone made necessary by the need to avoid being heard as the door swung open, revealing the crowded room beyond. ‘And you—’
But there was no chance to finish the sentence, because at that moment a loud, stentorian voice broke through the noise, silencing it immediately.
‘Ladies and gentlemen—pray silence for the bride and groom!’
‘Oh, Lord!’
Taken by surprise, Sienna lurched into a nervous flurry of activity. A hasty glance in the huge, ornately framed mirror over the fireplace reassured her that her veil was still securely anchored, the delicate silver headdress holding it firmly in place in the brown curls of her hair, a couple of shades darker than Keir’s.
Her make-up, carefully applied some four hours before, was still almost perfect: a soft wash of beige shadow emphasising the almond shape of her eyes, the long, thick lashes enhanced by a single coat of black mascara. Perhaps the warm pink on the full softness of her mouth had faded just a little, and there seemed to be a surprising lack of colour across the high, slanting cheekbones, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She could only hope that their guests would put her pallor down to excitement or belated wedding nerves.
Patting her cheeks lightly, in an attempt to bring some blood to the surface of her skin in order to make its ivory tones look a little healthier, she turned back to Keir. Meeting his darkly watchful gaze, she switched on what she hoped was a convincing smile, supremely conscious of the fact that it was distinctly ragged round the edges.
‘Ready?’ he asked, and held out his hand to her.
Sienna could only manage an inarticulate murmur that might have been agreement as she smoothed down her long skirt with uncertain fingers. Made of the finest lace over a delicate silk lining, the dress had originally been her grandmother’s, worn on her wedding day almost fifty-five years before. Carefully preserved, wrapped in tissue paper to protect it from the yellowing effects of the light, it had been handed down from mother to daughter in the hope that wearing it as a bride would pass on something of the love that had made the older woman’s marriage such a happy one.
But for Sienna’s mother, Caroline, there had been no such happy ending. There hadn’t even been a wedding ceremony, her daughter reflected bitterly. Her father had already been married. He had had no intention of leaving his wife for the naïve twenty-two-year-old who had been foolish enough to let herself get pregnant as the result of what had, to him at least, been just a pleasant holiday dalliance, with no commitment whatsoever.
‘Sienna…’ A note of reproof sharpened the edge of Keir’s voice, dragging her from her reverie. ‘Our guests are waiting.’
The hand he held out moved imperiously, the gesture demanding her instant obedience. For a brief moment the idea of rebellion flared in her mind, but almost immediately she dismissed it.
For now she had to observe all the conventions, play up to everyone’s belief that this was the love match of the century. Keir and Sienna, second only to Antony and Cleopatra, or Cathy and Heathcliff in the lists of the all-time great love stories.
Out there, in the elegant dining room beyond the great double doors, was Francis Nash, her late father’s brother and only surviving relative. If he was not convinced by their marriage and the whirlwind romance that had apparently preceded it, then the game was well and truly up. One false move and her chance of making sure that her mother spent the rest of her days in the comfort and security she so needed would be ruined.
And so she forced herself to smile again, with rather more success this time, drawing herself up to her full five foot nine as she placed her hand in Keir’s.
‘I’m ready,’ she declared. ‘Let’s go.’
Hard fingers closed tightly over hers, though whether in encouragement or warning not to take any more risks she couldn’t be sure.
‘Come on, then,’ Keir said, his voice unexpectedly roughened and tight. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
Not giving her time to think, he swung her round and, with her hand held high between them, marched her forcibly across the room, leaving her with no option but to follow him. It was either that or be dragged embarrassingly in his arrogant wake.
In the doorway Keir stopped suddenly, dark head held high, deep brown eyes scanning the elegantly dressed crowd before him as a murmur of interest greeted their appearance. Surprised by his unexpected stillness, it was all Sienna could do to avoid cannoning into the broad, straight line of his back.
Automatically her free hand came out to balance herself, closing over the tight muscles in his arm as she came to an uncertain halt at his side.
‘Perfect,’ Keir murmured softly, threading the word through with a dark cynicism that she had never heard from him before. ‘Now we look just like the model bride and groom on the top of that ridiculously over-decorated cake you insisted on.’
‘I…’ Sienna began but her muffled protest was ignored as Keir, having caught the eye of the waiting maître d’, gave a swift, curt nod as a signal to proceed with the reception.
‘Ladies and gentlemen…may I present to you Mr and Mrs Keir Alexander?’
But that was too much. Sienna’s head came up sharply, turquoise eyes flashing repudiation of the announcement.
‘Mr Keir Alexander and Sienna Rushford!’ she pronounced, against the flurry of applause that had greeted the announcement. ‘I—’
But the rest of her words were silenced, forced back down her throat, as, with a muttered expletive, Keir caught her in his arms, hauling her up against him as his dark head lowered, his mouth coming down hard on hers.
‘Keir!’
His name was a spluttered sound of protest against his lips. It was all she could manage before he kissed her again, with even more ruthless determination.
‘Looks like Keir’s got a tiger by the tail, all right.’
On the borders of her awareness Sienna heard one of Keir’s adolescent stepbrothers make the comment in an aside that was obviously meant to be heard, pitched as it was in a tone that carried clearly in spite of its apparent restraint. The malicious amusement in his voice was impossible to miss.
‘Let’s hope he’s not bitten off more than he can chew.’
Against her slender length Sienna felt the tension that stiffened Keir’s hard frame, tightening every muscle into an unyielding wall that seemed to bruise her just to be pressed close to it. So it was almost impossible to equate what all her senses were telling her with the apparently sensual indolence with which he slid his mouth away from hers, trailing it softly over her cheek until his warm breath teased the delicate curves of her ear.
‘Do you want this to work or not?’ he whispered silkily, his words meant for her hearing alone.
‘Of course…’
‘Then kiss me!’
‘Keir…?’ Confusion clouded her eyes, made her voice just a shaken thread of sound.
‘Kiss me!’
With a raw, uncontrolled sound in his throat, he closed hard fingers over her chin, wrenching her face up to his once more. But this time when his mouth touched hers it was with an unexpected, beguiling gentleness, a voluptuous tenderness that made her senses swim, her heartbeat slow to a heavy, languorous thud.
Against her back, the strength of his arm was all that held her upright. Without its support she felt that she would melt away completely, sliding into a warm, honeyed pool at his feet. Her whole body glowed, heating the blood in her veins until she felt as if she was flooded with molten gold, a burning spiral of very primitive need uncoiling deep inside her. She wanted to feel Keir’s mouth all over her skin, not just on her mouth; she longed for the caress of his hands on parts of her body too intimate to be appropriate on this public occasion.
It had been like this from the start, she acknowledged hazily with the little rational thought that was left to her. With Keir she no longer knew herself. She became a stranger even in her own eyes. In her place was a woman who had her own slender height, delicate oval face and thick fall of long dark brown hair, but who acted in ways she had never seen before.
That Sienna rushed into situations that only months before she would have fled from, screaming in panic. Situations like this travesty of a marriage that was only for show, with no real foundation in fact.
