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Claire barely stifled a groan of dismay at the giveaway remark and the extraordinary change in his character. He’d never been curt or angry before. Never rude. But then she’d never known the real man, had she?
‘Face up to it, darling; she’s either highly reluctant, or she’s feeling ill. You can see she’s in no fit state,’ said Phoenix gently. ‘She wasn’t exactly galloping up the aisle.’
‘She was very pale——’ conceded Trader grimly.
‘You noticed? Even under all the layers of make-up? I’m afraid it’s possible she’s discovered your plans,’ said Phoenix, forgetting to whisper.
Of course, thought Claire. Phoenix would know everything. They’d been friends for so long. And last night Phoenix’s conscience had prompted her to hint that Trader was being deceitful, even though her loyalty meant she couldn’t openly betray him. Poor Phoenix—what a dilemma!
‘Keep your voice down, for God’s sake!’ Trader growled irritably. ‘Leave this to me! I can bring her round better on my own. You can make amends by going to Brodie—Claire’s mother—and apologising on my behalf for ordering her out of here so rudely…say I was upset. Tell her Claire is fine. Make Brodie relax, or I’ll have your hide!’
‘Bully,’ said Phoenix amiably.
‘Fee, get the vicar to announce that Claire is recovering, ask everyone’s indulgence for ten minutes and get the organist to play something cheerful,’ Trader snapped, rapping out the orders like a man born to authority. Her father had ordered her mother around in a similar way, Claire remembered, appalled. ‘Now get out!’ Trader finished forcefully.
‘I don’t like what you’re doing——’ protested Phoenix.
Trader made a warning sound in his throat that apparently made Phoenix scurry out in fear, because there was the click of high heels tapping on a flagstone floor and then a heavy wooden door slamming.
The full horror of her situation finally hit Claire. She’d fallen hopelessly in love with Trader, but to him she was nothing more than a potential goldmine, to be exploited and plundered at will. And if his behaviour with Phoenix was anything to go by, he’d push her around, given half a chance, and treat her with contempt. She knew what that did to a woman. Knew what damage a dominating brute of a man could do. And she wasn’t suffering that kind of treatment.
‘Claire?’
The pulses in her wrist began to beat a fast tattoo. Trader was bending over her, she sensed that from the movement of air in front of her and the delicious shiver down her spine. She felt her veil being lifted back and his soft breath on her painfully composed face. Her own breathing deepened, lifting her breasts high, despite her efforts to remain unaffected.
‘Damn!’ He reached around her, bringing her forward, and to her astonishment his fingers closed around her zip tag!
She gasped, hearing—feeling—the movement of the zip and the lessening of the pressure of her tight bodice. Cool air met her upthrust breasts as they spilled luxuriantly from the dainty strapless basque, her lashes fluttered open in alarm and she found herself staring directly into a pair of glittering black eyes, as dark and as dangerous as a slick of tar.
‘Claire!’ he whispered softly, sensually.
Petrified, she lifted her arms to cross defensively over the luxurious material of her bodice and her hands came to rest on the sumptuously perfumed swell of her creamy breasts. Trader’s nostrils flared, his eyes lingering avidly on the rapid rise and fall of her delicately boned hands as they tried to slow her breathing by pressure alone.
‘No! Don’t touch me!’ she gasped, shrinking back into the chair and he jerked back as if from a blow, straightening up with a muttered curse.
‘Hell! What—?’
‘How dare you do that? How dare you take the first opportunity you had to…? Oh! You’re a brute! A despicable, disgusting brute!’ she whispered incoherently.
‘My God!’ he exclaimed, his face pinched with anger. ‘You think…! Dammit, Claire—your dress was tight! I thought you needed air in your lungs, darling——’
‘Don’t darling me!’ she cried in fury.
‘Hey!’ He frowned and gave her a little shake. ‘Still groggy? This is me, Trader! How far did you think I was going to go? he demanded, sounding bitterly offended.
‘That’s what I want to know!’ she muttered defiantly, her eyes fixed miserably on his.
The muscles in Trader’s jaw tightened, the insult eating into every visible inch of him. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ he said tightly.
‘Confidence?’ she scathed. ‘I’m to have confidence in you?’
‘Ye gods! Where’s the shrewish tongue come from?’
She didn’t know. Claire flushed at the rebuke and frantically tried to lift her bodice back to cover the half-naked globes of her breasts. For a moment she thought she saw hunger flicker around his strained mouth, but it set back into hurt lines again and she knew he was going to deny any idea of assault.
‘Where are we?’ she asked frostily, hunting around for clues.
‘The church vestry.’ His wary eyes watched her as if she were a bomb that might go off at any minute. ‘You’ve got a few minutes’ grace to recover.’
‘If I do,’ she said wildly.
‘Of course you will,’ he soothed, a worrying edge to his voice.
She squirmed under the compelling glance, saw his gaze drop as if hypnotised by her quivering breasts and she froze. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the treacherous excitement firming each peak and knew that she was quivering from the frisson that always came when he was near.
There was a horrid silence between them as if they were adversaries in some ghastly Cold War. Desperately she tried to interpret his expression, to find something—anything—that told her he felt concern or a residue of love for her. But the dark, smoothly tanned face had become quite inscrutable. Her eyes glimmered with contempt. He didn’t want to lose her—or rather the money that came with her. He’d want to coax her back to the altar, wouldn’t he?
‘I’m sorry. You must have had an awful shock,’ he said with disarming gentleness. Almost disarming.
‘Terrible,’ she replied bluntly. ‘I would like some water, please.’
‘Of course. Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking,’ he said in stilted, courteous tones. He went to fill a glass from the small wash basin and she took the opportunity to struggle with the zip but her fingers made no headway. ‘Let me,’ he said politely, putting the glass on the table beside her.
‘No! Don’t touch me!’ she snapped hastily.
‘For God’s sake, Claire! What the hell’s got into you? I told you I was applying common sense and first aid! Do you think I’m an animal?’ he growled.
‘I don’t know!’ she wailed. Other than her father, what did she know of men? How they behaved?
‘God!’ he exploded angrily, balling his fists.
‘Don’t hit me!’ she warned unsteadily.
His eyes flickered with a lightning flash of rage. He sucked in his breath and slowly released it before allowing himself to launch into a chilling reply. ‘I’m not like your father,’ he said coldly. ‘I don’t hit women. The rough treatment your mother had to suffer——’
‘Don’t you dare to speak of my father like that!’ she flared defensively, shamed by his perception. ‘You know nothing about his marriage!’
Trader seemed to be making an effort to control himself. It was like damming a river in full spate, she thought nervously. ‘If you say so,’ he said tightly. ‘I regret the remark and I made it in temper. But I don’t hit women, Claire. Whatever the provocation. Now listen. This is a church vestry. There are one hundred and fifty-two people, a vicar and a dozen choirboys a few yards away. Even if you think I’m the sort to jump on you at any given opportunity,’ he continued sarcastically, ‘you surely can’t imagine that I’d choose this particular moment, when I’ve had ample opportunity before, on beaches, in cars and in secluded woods?’
Her face flamed at his listing of the times when she’d been achingly willing. ‘No. Of course not. I believe you. I felt…vulnerable. Muddled.’ She put a shaking hand to her head and looked at him in appeal. ‘I feel terrible that—I—I reacted without thinking,’ she said miserably, wishing her zip would come unstuck. ‘I’m sorry.’
He grunted and watched her ineffectual wriggling with ill-concealed impatience. ‘Why don’t you give in?’ he sighed. ‘You’ll never do that up on your own.’
‘I—all right. Thank you,’ she mumbled, wanting to cry.
‘My poor darling,’ he said huskily. ‘You must be feeling awful. I hate to see you upset.’
And she wanted to believe that. But the lies seemed to come too easily to his lips, the adoration flowed too freely from his drowsy eyes. She had been vain to imagine she could have captured his heart when he was so handsome, so unnervingly sophisticated and worldly.
Oh, God! She blanched. Was that how her father had seduced his second wife into parting with her fortune? By charm and stealth and smooth talk?
Trader came to stand behind the chair, and remained there for several seconds without doing anything. The hairs rose on the back of her neck while she sat waiting, her hands firmly gripping the low neckline of her dress as a precaution. Eventually, after an eternity, he swept the headdress to one side in a drift of silk that caressed her smooth shoulder in a soft, erotic whisper and she gave an involuntary shiver. Her whole body waited for the touch of his hands and every fibre of her being had become focused on her naked and unprotected back.
‘Claire——’ he husked thickly.
‘For heaven’s sake, get on with it!’ she cried in agitation, unable to bear the suspense. There was a sensation running down her spine that frightened her. Fear and anticipation. Half of her wanted him to kiss each vertebra, to surround it with his warm mouth. The rest of her wanted to pick up her skirts and run for safety. A snake-pit would be fine.
‘Of course, darling,’ he soothed and she felt the satin voice wash over her, calming her doubts despite her struggle to stay wary. ‘We are pushed for time. I merely wanted to say how I adore you. How much I want to hold you in my arms.’ He gave a wicked little chuckle. ‘But it wouldn’t stop there, would it?’
Yes, she wanted to say. It would.
One of his palms came into contact with her back and she shuddered again, the desire to have it stroke her skin far too strong for her to deny. But Trader grunted, she felt the tug on the zip and so she drew herself erect to help its slow progress upwards. It couldn’t be that difficult a task, but she seemed suspended in a heavily dragging time while the material gradually closed over her lower back and then each straining rib; one by one, inch by excruciatingly exciting inch.
Probably to taunt her, he took a painful age to do up the fastening at the top, and she agonised over the touch of his fingers on her flesh. Something fierce and raw was piercing her body, something alarmingly sexual had made her vibrate to his practised caress. Each time he brushed her skin she quivered with a strange, vibrant life that made her blush with shame.
It was deliberate, she told herself. Part of his seduction. And mentally she clad herself in an impenetrable armour.
‘It’s a beautiful dress,’ he murmured. Idly his hand ran down the sheathing material that now encased her back. ‘You have such a tiny waist,’ he mused, sounding huskier by the second. ‘I think my hands could——’
‘Please!’ she breathed in agony. The armour was melting!
In a sudden, abrupt movement, he appeared by her side and wordlessly handed her the water. ‘Tell me when you feel you can continue,’ he said, his features as brittle as his voice. He regarded her with steady, unsmiling eyes. Cold, bleak, scary. It wasn’t her imagination that tinged his words with a sinister menace. He was watching her warily, as though judging the extent of her surrender to his magnetic personality. ‘Your mother will be worried,’ he said quietly.
‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she cried angrily. ‘You don’t have to rub it in. I hate the way you and my father use her condition to force me to do what you want!’
‘I want to marry you,’ he said tightly. ‘That’s hardly the vile deed you seem to be suggesting by your tone. I’m sorry if I pressurised you. But do me a favour and don’t bracket me with your father in the same breath!’
‘You’re alike,’ she muttered and met his glittering eyes with defiance.
‘Not by one iota,’ he said savagely.
Her eyes reflected her mute contradiction. Both were big men, both were charmers who liked to get their own way. And, now that she had to tell him she wasn’t going back, what would he do? He was very physical—she knew that, from the way he’d run across Ballymare beach with her, while she perched on his shoulders. Strong, too; his hands had made light work of shifting Dan O’Connor’s heavy old boat. She quivered with nerves.
But they couldn’t begin married life with dark secrets between them. She loved him deeply and she didn’t want him to marry her because she was attached to a pile of money. She’d rather wait till he came to her of his own free will. Her legs trembled. She sought to hide that fact by twisting them around each other beneath the huge skirt.
‘I think you have something to tell me,’ she said in a weird little croak.
Trader froze. He’s guilty! she thought in dismay. Her hands began to shake visibly and she put the glass down, straining to interpret the expression on his bleak face.
‘I have? Like…what?’ he asked, non-committally.
‘Let’s start with why someone stopped our wedding ceremony!’ she said quietly. And added, ‘Or did that escape your notice?!’
‘Hardly,’ he said coldly. ‘Nor did your sarcasm. I don’t like your tone, Claire.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘And I don’t like your secrets!’ she cried hysterically. ‘Can’t you see what a state I’m in? Just tell me and put me out of my misery: what exactly is the reason we shouldn’t get married?’
Every stupid inch of her was screwed up in anticipation of his answer and she knew with a terrible despair that she was more than eager to believe any excuse he dreamed up. And how she’d loathe herself if she did! He had her heart and soul. It would be disastrous if he claimed her pride as well.
‘None. I’m not married, I’ve not been certified insane and I have all the parts a woman could want in a husband. And I don’t have any notifiable disease. OK?’
She flushed. ‘Don’t patronise me, Trader!’ she snapped.
‘I was trying to lighten you up,’ he grated. ‘You don’t have a lot of faith in me, do you? God help us both if something really serious comes to test us,’ he added thoughtfully. She glared but he went on, ‘There was no objection to our marriage. Poor Phoenix was being hassled by some guy, wanting her address. She got irritable and told him to wait.’
‘That’s all?! It—it sounds far-fetched,’ she said hesitantly.
‘It’s the truth!’ he insisted. ‘I was shaken too, Claire. I’ve been on edge ever since we parted yesterday afternoon. I haven’t slept, wondering whether you’d turn up this morning——’
‘Is there a reason I shouldn’t?’ she asked quickly.
He grimaced. ‘A thousand. Or so I persuaded myself.’ His mouth made a half-hearted attempt at a wry grin. ‘I’ve never felt so unsure of someone in my life. Or as uncertain of anything. It’s a new experience and I don’t like it.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I came here for a break in my hectic life, not to find a bride. I have things to do which don’t leave room for a steady relationship, let alone a wife. But…you can’t ignore opportunity, can you?’ he said with a rueful grin.
‘Maybe we both should,’ she said bitterly.
‘Look, I know I’ve pushed you for this marriage. But you know why.’
‘Yes,’ she said shakily. ‘I think I do.’
With a groan, he knelt at her feet and laid a firm hand on her knee. Its heat burned through the layers of petticoats, warming her frozen skin. But despite his apparently submissive position, she had the impression of being trapped. His strength, his faint air of menace, the piercing command of his eyes all added up to domination. And she wanted parity.
‘Thank God for that!’ He gave her a dazzling grin that lit up his face and, fool that she was, she immediately felt that he was the man she’d fallen in love with again. ‘Darling, all I want is to be with you,’ he said persuasively. ‘I know you feel the same. I don’t need anyone else. You’re my friend and always will be. Doesn’t that tell you we have something special, something unique?’
Claire’s thick fringe of lashes closed with the sweet memories. They’d been so happy walking hand in hand. Wandering in quiet companionship, needing nothing but each other. ‘Oh, Trader!’ she said tremulously, wishing, wishing for his love. ‘I do love you! I do, I do, I do! I want to spend the rest of my life with you because you make me feel complete! And then I start to think of reasons we shouldn’t be together, instead of listening to my blind instincts and——’
‘Then stop thinking!’ he ordered sternly. ‘It’s cracking us up! We need one another. It’s that simple. Let’s get married without any more of this damn fool talking!’
She sniffed as the tears of relief filled her huge, forest-green eyes. ‘If you love me, truly love me, I’ll marry you. I—I didn’t want to be hurt, you see. I feel horribly defenceless where you’re concerned and…my mother’s experience has made me protect myself,’ she sobbed, her body in convulsions of weeping.
And then Trader was peeling her fingers from his waist and gently holding her at arm’s length while she stood weeping in front of him.
‘I understand that,’ he said quietly. ‘It would be easy to hurt you. Once committed, you give your whole self in a relationship, holding nothing back. But you have to trust me. Say you will marry me now or I’ll have to walk out of your life for ever.’
‘That sounds like an ultimatum,’ she said slowly, knuckling away the tears in surprise.
‘It is. I’m not going through this again,’ he replied, his dark eyes steady on hers. ‘This could be our only chance of happiness. You see, darling, you’re in a unique position to change my life.’
The money would change his life, she thought sadly. He’d be rich instead of poor. ‘Trader——’ she began, but his finger stopped her lips.
‘If you doubt me, if you reject me now, I’m not hanging around for an encore.’ The words were cold and uncompromising. He stood back and gave her a little shake, fixing her with his glittering stare. ‘My father was a very proud man. So am I. It’s difficult for me to admit that I love you so much that you could destroy me. But I’m taking the risk because I think it’s worth it, you idiot! This is my final gamble,’ he growled. ‘Yes, or no?’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1937830e-62c3-5f08-a1b3-06a2ee5d5e0b)
CLAIRE felt weak and tired from lack of sleep. Or perhaps it was more from the constant tension, the terrible demons that had tormented her since yesterday evening, followed by the drama of the morning. This wasn’t the time to be making any lifetime decision but she wanted the fairy-tale and she wanted Trader. The happy ever after.
Her lips parted. He might be a bastard. Have a terrible past. She had no way of knowing. But if he left, she’d never know and she’d always wonder. The scales slid one way, hovered, and then tipped precariously in the opposite direction. He swore that he loved her and she believed him. Without him she was only half a person. She had no choice but to marry him, whatever the consequences, or she’d regret it for ever.
‘Yes,’ she whispered helplessly.
