A Husband of Convenience Page 10

  Josie knew his reading of the situation was right, but it did not make her like it. Her father would be delighted to live with his friend the Major, and with Mrs M., the housekeeper to look after him. But Josie hated the idea. What could she say? Sorry, no. Thanks very much but I’m leaving you and going back to live with my father, and to do that we need to keep our home? If only she dared. She sighed inwardly; it was all such a mess. She glanced at Conan and his cool, confident smile told her he was not expecting an argument.

  ‘I thought you could spend the next few days sorting out what you want to keep. Then later I’ll arrange for the removal of the rest. Your father and mine are each to have their own apartment once the renovations to the Manor House are complete. What do you say?’ Conan prompted.

  ‘Yes. I don’t know. I suppose so,’ she mumbled. But inside she was fuming. ‘You seem to have arranged everything to your satisfaction.’ But if he noticed the irony in her words he ignored it.

  ‘Good; I’m glad we agree. Now run along and pack. I’ll drive you down, but I won’t be able to stay, unfortunately. Angela has brought quite a few problems from the New York branch that need my attention. In fact I’ll probably have to go over to the USA for a week or so.’

  I’ll just bet you will, Josie thought bitterly. Did he take her for a complete fool? Conan must have been planning this move for weeks. How convenient that the day after his very feminine American executive arrived, his wife had to go to the country. Still, she could not blame him. He had kept his side of the bargain and married her. She should be grateful, Josie told herself. Anyway, hadn’t she decided last night to give Conan a clear field with Angela? Then why did her heart ache to know he had already arranged it for himself?

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’ His angry voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Sorry, I missed the last part.’

  Shoving back his chair, Conan stood up, his dark eyes fixed on her pale face. ‘Dreaming about the past again, were we?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, my de-ear wife.’ The drawled endearment made it perfectly obvious he did not believe her. ‘For your information I said I should be back by Christmas Eve, if you’re interested.’ Taking hold of her arm, he pulled her to her feet. ‘Now hurry and pack. I have no time to waste.’

  Back in her bedroom, a slow-burning resentment at his high-handedness lent force to her actions as she haphazardly stuffed clothes into a suitcase.

  Dressed once more in her blue suit—one of the few decent things she had that still fitted her—she cast a last look around the room, and the thought crossed her mind that she would never be here again. She straightened her shoulders, picked up the suitcase, and made her way downstairs and out to the car.

  Conan took the suitcase from her hand. ‘Is this all? One case?’

  Josie waited until he was seated behind the driving wheel before responding, ‘Contrary to your mercenary view of women, I don’t own a lot and I always travel light.’ Unlike his girlfriend with her mink coat and designer clothes, Josie thought spitefully.

  Conan turned in his seat and leant over her, ostensibly to fasten her seat belt. But he hesitated, his hand holding the strap resting lightly on her breast. She sank as far back into the soft leather as she could, her breast hardening in quick reaction to his touch.

  ‘An admirable sentiment,’ he mocked, his hand pressing slightly against her. Josie knew he was doing it deliberately. But why? ‘But not necessary in your case. You have an allowance, credit cards. If it isn’t enough just say so. You’re my wife; what is mine is yours, and I am a very wealthy man.’ After dropping a swift kiss on her soft lips, he deftly clicked the belt into place and was starting the car before she could protest.

  She had never touched her allowance; her pride would not let her. Instead she had used her own small savings for the few items she had bought. ‘But I’m not really your wife. Ours is a marriage of convenience.’ Even as she said it she wished it were not true. But to hope for anything more was to delude herself and she was not going to make that mistake again.

  ‘You’re my real wife.’ Conan shot her a chilling glance, before returning his attention to the road. ‘After what almost happened last night I don’t know why you bother to deny it. It’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘But—’ That was as far as she got before he cut her off.

  ‘Drop it. We have a long drive ahead of us. You’re tired; put your head back and sleep.’

  ‘I just think...’ She meant to say that physical attraction was no basis for a marriage, but never got the chance.

  ‘Your trouble is you think too much,’ he derided.

  Josie closed her eyes; she had no energy to argue with him, especially when she knew he was right. But she could not stop her mind spinning. Only a matter of time, Conan had said. Did he intend to share her bed in future? Have a real marriage...? No, Angela was his true love... Feeling inexplicably sad, she yawned. She was tired, and trying to understand Conan was giving her a headache.

  She imagined she felt the tenderest of kisses on her soft mouth, and she sighed, her eyes fluttering open.

  ‘Wake up, Josie; we’ve arrived,’ Conan was leaning over her, unclipping her seat belt.

  She shivered and looked out of the car window. It was snowing and the car had stopped at the foot of the steps leading to the ancient oak entrance door of Beeches Manor. Her own home was gone, and this was all that was left for her. Conan walked around the car and held the passenger door open for her, and something in her expression must have told him how she felt.

  ‘You’ll be fine with Mrs M. to look after you, and I’ll be back soon,’ he said gently.

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ she said curtly. Did she really seem so pathetic to him? Stepping out of the car, she added, ‘Don’t hurry back on my account. I’m perfectly happy to stay with my father; in fact I would prefer it.’

  ‘Maybe so, but you’re not going to get the chance.’ Conan grabbed her arm and ushered her up the steps and into the house, his expression grim.

  Then Mrs M., the housekeeper, was gushing all over them. The grey-haired woman, who was in her sixties, had worked at the Manor all her life, and she gave Josie a hug.

  ‘I’m so pleased to see you and Conan again!’ Mrs M. cried. ‘And you pregnant and all. Why, this old house has never seen so much excitement in years. Wait until you see my new kitchen—and as for the master suite...’

  ‘Okay, Mrs M.,’ Conan cut in. ‘You and Josie can gossip to your hearts’ content later, but right now I would love a cup of tea and a sandwich.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The next few minutes were taken up as the Major and her father greeted the pair of them, and then, with a determined smile, Conan said, ‘Excuse us,’ and with his arm around Josie’s waist he almost carried her up the wide staircase.

  ‘Why on earth did you tell Mrs M. I was pregnant?’ she demanded angrily, when they reached the first-floor landing. ‘It—’

  ‘Because, my sweet wife, it is becoming rather obvious,’ Conan drawled, his long arm reaching right around her waist to splay across her slightly swollen belly. ‘And it’s about time you stopped trying to play the martyr and started buying some clothes that fit you.’

  ‘Thanks for the compliment; every girl likes to be told she’s fat,’ she shot back sarcastically.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Josie, will you stop carping for once, and tell me what you think of the decor?’ Exasperation laced his tone as he stopped in the middle of the bedroom.

  Silently fuming, she looked around and the first thing she noticed was the elegant ambience, and the second thing she noticed was an enormous bed. There was the door they had entered, and one other on the right-hand side. Slowly she crossed the room and opened the door. It was a magnificent bathroom in Italian marble with a double shower, and a huge circular bath on a raised dais. She closed the door again and turned to Conan.

  ‘Where is your bedroom?’ She had a horrible suspi
cion this was it.

  He strolled across to her. One hand came down on her tense shoulders, and she froze. His other hand snaked around her back as he drew her firmly up against him. ‘This is my bedroom—yours and mine. Make the most of it for the next few days, because when I return you’re sharing it with me.’

  ‘No way!’ Josie cried, shoving at his broad chest, and, deliberately taking advantage of her angrily parted lips, he covered her mouth with his own.

  Josie stopped breathing, fighting to withhold her response, but he was far too experienced. He chuckled with masculine enjoyment and increased the pressure, his arm wrapping tightly around her, until, with a sigh, she gave in. She trembled violently in his arms as he seduced her with his mouth and tongue, her body on fire for him. Then Conan swung her off her feet, and with a wicked grin he slowly lowered her down his rock-hard body, before freeing her.

  He stepped back, his smile triumphant. ‘You’re not cut out for the celibate life, Josie, however much you try to pretend otherwise,’ he observed with ironic amusement. ‘That was just a little taste to remember me by. Unfortunately I do have to leave, or I would give you the whole meal.’

  ‘Why, you conceited jerk!’ Josie raised her hand, but he caught her wrist when she would have hit him.

  ‘No, simply a husband trying to please his wife,’ he mocked ‘Hence the new master suite.’ He gestured around the room. ‘The rest of the renovations on the house will be completed in about three months.’

  ‘So the Major has signed the estate over to you?’ she asked angrily, pulling her wrist free. ‘You’ve got what you wanted!’ she almost spat.

  ‘As far as the estate is concerned, yes. A trip to Cheltenham, to sign a few papers, and that was it.’ His dark face sardonic, he added, ‘As for getting what I want, I’m still working on that, as I think you know, Josie.’

  ‘I am not sleeping with you, Conan,’ she blurted out.

  ‘That wasn’t part of our bargain.’

  ‘You will,’ he asserted arrogantly. ‘But for now we’ll go downstairs and you’ll behave as a loving wife until I leave.’

  ‘It can’t be soon enough for me.’

  ‘Liar, Josie—you want me almost as much as I want you.’ His dark eyes roamed with explicit sensual knowledge from her tense face to the wild mass of blue-black curls falling to her slender shoulders. ‘When I return I will prove it to you.’ His gaze shifted to focus on one single curl falling down over her breast. ‘And that’s a promise,’ he averred softly, before turning and walking to the door.

  A trembling sigh escaped Josie. She was trapped by circumstance, but, even more frightening, she was trapped by passion. Conan, with his dark Celtic ancestry, added to his experience of life, could read her like a book. He knew she wanted him, however much she denied it.

  ‘Come on, Josie,’ he commanded from the door, and she had no choice but to follow him.

  She said very little over the tea and sandwiches they shared with the two old men in the drawing room. The living arrangements had already been decided. Her agreement was a foregone conclusion. Only when Conan got up to leave and demanded that she see him to the door did she stir herself.

  ‘As you’re driving past the Low Beeches, you can drop me off there,’ she told Conan, walking out to the car. She might as well check it out now, and she could do with the walk back to clear her head.

  ‘Yes, okay,’ Conan agreed, and ten minutes later he stopped the car outside her former home.

  ‘Do you want me to come in with you, Josie? I can wait and drive you back to the Manor—I’m not in that much of a rush.’

  She looked out of the car window at the mellow stone building. Her home. Ten years of her life gone, and all because of the man beside her. Schooling her face into a careful blankness, she turned and said, ‘No, Conan. I would prefer to do this alone, and I know Angela won’t appreciate you being late.’

  His dark eyes narrowed and for a fleeting instant she thought he was going to object. ‘You’re right.’ He leaned towards her and she thought he was going to kiss her, but he simply opened the passenger door. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Before she could slide out of the car, he folded his arms around her waist and leaned forward to rub his cheek against hers in the gentlest caress. ‘Go, but be careful.’

  Josie watched the car disappear down the road, a sadness in her heart that only intensified as she took the doorkey out of her purse and entered the house. Somehow she already felt a stranger. Going into her bedroom, she glanced around. There was nothing here she needed to keep, she thought sadly. Her doll, the posters on the wall all seemed to belong to a girl who no longer existed. She packed a holdall with a few small items, including a picture of her mother and that was it.

  Entering the hall of the Manor House, she shivered, not so much with cold, but with a dread of what the future would bring. This was now her home... Her father, the one person who might have helped her, was perfectly content with the new living arrangements. If she wanted a different future it was up to her to make it for herself. The prospect was daunting, but not impossible, she reminded herself firmly. She could get an apartment of her own; make a life for herself.

  The following morning she did just that. A trip into Cheltenham to call at the office of Brownlow’s proved very beneficial. No one had been hired to replace her yet. Apparently a succession of temps had been used, and after a conversation with her boss, Mr Brownlow, she made arrangements to go back to her old job on a temporary basis, but to Josie it was the first step to regaining her independence.

  Fuelled with success, she also visited her local G.P. It was amazing how the name Mrs Zarcourt smoothed the interview, and she was enrolled in a course of antenatal classes in Cheltenham. Her baby was her first priority, and tenderly she placed a hand on her stomach. Her baby; the thought filled her with delight.

  As for Conan, in the days that followed she tried her best not to think of him at all. Josie knew his interest in her was fleeting at best. He might have said he wanted to share a bed with her, but once he had slept with Angela again he would quickly forget about a small, plump, pregnant wife, she told herself firmly, and tried to block him from her mind.

  Amazingly Josie slipped back into her old lifestyle very easily. Conan phoned most evenings, but she omitted to tell him she was working. In fact she told him very little. Josie found it impossible to speak normally to him. But, driving back from Cheltenham after the office party the day before Christmas Eve, she had a sudden attack of nerves. Conan had informed her he would be arriving at about seven the next night, and, however much she tried to deny it, she had missed him and was looking forward to seeing him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE bright yellow Mercedes coupé stood on the drive, a huge blue bow tied around it, with ‘MERRY CHRISTMAS LOVE CONAN’ woven into the fabric.

  ‘But it can’t be for me!’ Josie exclaimed for the third time.

  ‘Look, lady, just sign here.’ The salesman waved a delivery note in front of her face. ‘It’s Christmas Eve and I want to knock off for the day.’

  In a state of shock Josie signed the form and took the keys from the man along with the ownership papers. The sweater she had bought for Conan suddenly seemed pitiful in comparison.

  The first shock of the day had been the arrival in the post of Conan’s present to the Major and her father. Two tickets for a round-the-world cruise, sailing from Southampton in January for four months. The two old men were in the study, plotting the route they were taking.

  Josie opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. It was the most fantastic present; she could hardly believe it. She had spent the last few days convincing herself she would have no trouble resisting Conan’s avowed intention to share her bed when he returned home. She only had to think of Angela... But now she was not so sure. Was she really so shallow as to be bought for the price of a Mercedes?

  Yes! she thought impulsively. To pot with pride! It was time she accepted the inevitable. For better or wo
rse she loved Conan, and he must care for her or he would never have given her such a wonderful gift. If he still wanted her, he could have her... How she ached for him. So why not fight for him? Angela had already had three husbands. Why should she have Josie’s as well? Conan could have married the woman any time in the past ten years but he hadn’t. Surely that was a good sign? Josie convinced herself, and with her decision made she spent the rest of the day in excited anticipation of Conan’s return.

  At midnight she followed the Major and her father up the stairs to bed. Obviously Conan was not coming back yet. Saddened, Josie slid into the huge bed, closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

  But the ringing of the telephone had her eyes flying open. She felt for the receiver on the bedside table, and pressed it to her ear.

  ‘Josie! How are you?’ It was Conan’s deep, sexy voice that echoed down the line, making her pulse race. But she made herself respond casually.

  ‘Fine. Where are you? We all thought you’d be here by now.’ She used the ‘we’ deliberately, rather than admit she had been waiting for him all evening.

  ‘I’m still in New York. A snow storm has closed Kennedy Airport.’ She could hear the exasperation in his tone. ‘I am sorry, Josie; I’ve tried everything, including a charter, but it’s hopeless.’

  Relief flooded through her. It wasn’t his fault he was delayed. ‘Don’t worry, what’s a day or two between friends?’ she said with a smile.

  ‘But I really wanted to be back for Christmas, and I’m afraid it’s going to be more than a day or two. Even if it clears up tomorrow, I have to be back here by Friday. The problem is more complicated than I thought. I won’t bore you with the details.’

  Josie’s heart sank. He had only intended spending forty-eight hours with her anyway, it seemed. Why did she keep deluding herself he might care?