A Husband of Convenience Read online

  ‘You’re never likely to find out,’ she snapped back. The thought of Angela warming Conan’s bed was never far from her mind, and Josie was tempted to confront him with her suspicions. But her pride had taken such a battering over the last few months, she was determined to hang on to the little she had left.

  ‘No.’ One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Of course not. After all, I’m only your husband.’ And, leaning back over her, he curved a large hand around her throat.

  For a second Josie thought he was going to choke her; then, insolently, he ran his hand down to her breast. She blushed scarlet, but could not stop the tremor that coursed through her as his hand cupped her breast over the fine wool of her shirt, his thumb grazing over the taut nipple ever so lightly, then withdrawing.

  ‘When you’re tired of playing games, Josie, give me a ring,’ he drawled derisively, fully aware of how his touch had affected her. ‘My darling wife,’ he ended with icy sarcasm.

  She had done it. She had known there had been no love lost between the half-brothers, and that her mention of Charles would make Conan angry. She had not realised quite how angry. She heard him tell Mrs M. he was leaving, followed by the slam of the heavy front door, just before a car engine roared into life. Presumably Conan was going straight back to London, and Angela...

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JOSIE drove the yellow convertible tentatively out of the clinic car park. It was over two weeks since Conan had left It had snowed solidly ever since, causing chaos all over the country, with dozens of roads blocked. Luckily the road from Beeches to Cheltenham had been kept relatively clear, which meant Josie had managed to get to work all right although the journey took a little longer. But today she had not been to work.

  Driving slowly out of Cheltenham, Josie glanced at the photograph lying on the passenger seat, a secret smile playing around her lips. She had been to the clinic for an ultrasound scan, and the baby was fine. The grainy picture of the tiny infant was magical.

  She turned her attention back to the road ahead; the light was fading, and a severe frost was forecast. Suddenly she felt a brief flicker in her stomach, and she gasped; taking one hand from the steering wheel, she placed it over her stomach. There it was again. Her baby was moving inside her; the thrill was indescribable, and she laughed out loud, her gaze straying once more to the photograph.

  It took a second for her brain to register the fact that the car was sliding. A silent scream escaped her. The grinding crash of metal was the last sound she heard, before the darkness swallowed her up.

  It was the voices she heard first, coming at her through the darkness.

  ‘The baby is fine, Mr Zarcourt, and your wife, as far as we can ascertain, has no really serious injury, apart from the blow to her head.’

  ‘But it’s been days and she’s still unconscious!’ a deep voice said angrily. ‘You’re the expert. Do something.’

  It must be her they were talking about. She heard the anguish in the tone, and she wanted to reassure whoever it was. She was fine—and a baby—she was having a baby... She lay motionless, the dull ache in her head gradually easing slightly. Slowly, very slowly, she tried to open her eyes. Everything was misty grey; she moved her head, and winced. Suddenly a dark shape loomed over her. The mist evaporating, her eyes gradually focused clearly.

  ‘Thank God you’re all right!’ Warm lips brushed her brow, and fiercely glittering eyes stared into hers.

  He was big and dark, unshaven and dishevelled. Who was he? Where was she? She looked down, unable to stand the intensity of his gaze. Railings at the bottom of the bed, a square clipboard attached. A hospital. Panicking, her eyes flew back to the man leaning over her. He did not look like a doctor.

  ‘Where am I?’ Was that thin sound her voice? Her throat felt sore, her lips dry and cracked as she nervously ran her tongue across them. What was the matter with her? And who was this man sitting on the bed?

  Another voice answered. ‘Well, Josie, you’re with us at last.’

  She moved her eyes. Another man stood at the other side of the bed. Older, with white hair, a white coat; a doctor. He smiled down at her.

  ‘Good, so you’ve finally awakened. You had us all worried for a while, but now a few simple tests and it won’t be long before your husband can take you home.’

  ‘Husband?’ Her puzzled gaze shot back to the younger man. She lifted her hand to her aching head but the glitter of gold and diamonds arrested her hand in mid-air. ‘I’m married?’

  ‘Very much so, my dear; married and pregnant, and I’m happy to say the baby is fine.’ The doctor chuckled. ‘As for your husband, he has never left the hospital since you arrived—the staff have christened him the Ghost of St Martin’s.’

  ‘Oh, St Martin’s.’ That rang a bell—a nursery rhyme—and her cracked lips parted in a brief smile at the pun.

  ‘You know where you are, Josie?’ the deep-voiced man, her ‘husband’ asked urgently.

  She lifted puzzled eyes to the dark-haired man. ‘No, a nursery rhyme.’ What was the matter with her? She could not remember anything. He had called her Josie, so that must be her name. But what was his name? She had no idea, and she was having his baby... Warily, she studied him. He had a strong, attractive face, and she felt a tiny glimmer of recognition as she gazed into his eyes.

  He heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh as she watched, then his lips curled back over gleaming white teeth in a broad smile, and he caught her hand in his much larger one. His clasp was firm, as though afraid she would vanish.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Josie; you and the baby are going to be all right.’

  ‘But what happened? I don’t remember, I don’t remember,’ she repeated, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘Hush, Josie; please don’t cry. You’re safe; you are in St Martin’s Hospital in London. You were in a car accident, and suffered a nasty blow to the head. It isn’t a particularly severe injury, but you have been unconscious for a while. It’s natural for you to feel a little disorientated.’ The man lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, and, looking across the bed, he added ‘Isn’t that so, Dr Ferguson?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ the doctor quickly confirmed. ‘But if you wouldn’t mind leaving now, Mr Zarcourt, I can examine your wife thoroughly and put her mind at rest.’

  ‘All right, but I’ll be back soon.’ He rose to his feet and planted a swift kiss on her dry lips before leaving.

  A nurse arrived, and gave Josie a drink of juice, then stood by the bed as the doctor examined her. The doctor continued talking as he took her pulse, shone a light in her eyes, her ears, listened to the baby’s heartbeat, subjecting her to a thorough examination. It was only when he asked her how old she was that she realised she still could not answer him. No matter how hard she tried, she could not remember anything.

  ‘My name is Josie. I’m Josie,’ she said helplessly.

  ‘Yes, it’s alright, Josie.’ His kindly voice soothed her. ‘You’re Mrs Josie Zarcourt, and it’s as I thought. You have the classic symptoms of post-traumatic amnesia. The fact you remember nothing from before the accident is not abnormal.’

  Amnesia. The word echoed in her head. She was swamped by the most incredible feeling of loneliness, doubting her very existence. ‘Please tell me.’ She lifted her hand in a pleading gesture. ‘Will...will I get my memory back?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Josie; that’s the worst thing you can do. All you need is rest. You may suffer from headaches, perhaps a little giddiness, but that will pass. Trust me. I’m sure you’ll recover your memory completely, but don’t try to force it.’

  ‘And the baby?’ She ran her hand over the soft swell of her stomach. Unless she was fat, there was no doubt she was expecting a child. ‘Oh...’ she gasped. ‘I felt something move.’

  Dr Ferguson chuckled. ‘Perfectly natural. You’re about five months pregnant, the baby is fine, and so will you be. Tomorrow we’ll give you an ultrasound just to make sure everything is as it should be, and in a few days
you can go home with your husband. In the meantime the nurse will fill you in on anything else you want to know.’

  The nurse gave her a quick wash, and helped her into a clean nightdress, chattering all the time. Her name was Ann, she was unmarried, and she was obviously smitten by Josie’s husband.

  Josie lay for a long time after she had left, her mind a mass of disjointed thoughts. Dr Ferguson had said ‘Don’t worry’. She groaned; it was impossible not to. Deliberately she began to list in her head what she did remember. She knew the months of the year, the days of the week. God, religion, the changing seasons.

  Then she realised the futility of the exercise. It was not knowledge she had lost so much, but memory. Who was she? Her family? Friends? The hospital was in London, so obviously she lived here. She was married to a man she did not know, and was carrying his child, and yet she did not remember the conception...

  Ann, the nurse, walked in. ‘Tea and time for your medicine Mrs Zarcourt.’

  Josie took the cup of tea, and drank it down thirstily. Then, out of the blue, she was struck by a fierce wave of protective emotion for her child. ‘The medication won’t harm my baby?’ she asked quickly. She could put up with a headache but nothing must harm her child.

  ‘No. Packed with vitamins with a mild sedative effect, it will do both of you the world of good.’

  ‘Josie.’ The deep male voice woke her from a light sleep. Cautiously she opened her eyes, and levered herself up into a sitting position, folding the bedclothes over her stomach.

  ‘Ah, Josie. You’re finally with us again. You can’t imagine how good that makes me feel,’ the man said softly, and in a few lithe strides he crossed the room and seated himself on the side of the bed.

  Josie’s eyes widened in surprise. The dishevelled stranger of when she’d first woken up had been replaced by a tall broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, attractive man, immaculately dressed in a grey suit and white shirt. Warily she studied him. ‘Who are you?’ she asked inanely, a jumble of emotions churning inside her. If he was her husband she did not even remember his name...

  ‘Conan. My name is Conan. The doctor told me you’d lost your memory but...’ He hesitated, a flicker of some emotion she did not recognise illuminating his hard features. ‘You really don’t remember anything?’ he demanded, watching her with dark, assessing eyes.

  ‘No. No. I’m sorry...Conan.’ She tried his name. ‘Conan,’ she repeated softly, the word sliding easily from her tongue. ‘Are we really married?’ she asked, searching his face, hoping to find some memory, anything that would help her from the fog she was living in. As she watched, his dark glance slid from her face and down over her shoulders to linger for a long moment on her full breasts and the soft swell of her stomach. She had the oddest notion he was undecided as to how to respond.

  Then suddenly his head lifted and his glittering eyes clashed with hers. ‘Absolutely, Josie,’ he declared, and, catching her small hands in his, he squeezed them gently. ‘I am your husband, all legal and above board, I can assure you.’

  She trembled slightly, suddenly aware of the warmth of his hands enfolding hers and resting on her stomach. ‘And we’re having a baby,’ she murmured.

  ‘That, too,’ he confirmed as he slowly bent his dark head towards her, and she could do nothing but stare, mesmerised, as his mouth gently closed over hers. The touch of his lips, the scent of him were somehow familiar. A tingle of excitement fluttered down her spine. Her husband, she told herself. She felt something for this big dark man; the reaction of her body told her as much. His tongue slid between her parted lips and he kissed her with an achingly tender passion.

  ‘Convinced?’ He broke the kiss and let go of her hands and pulled her into his arms.

  Josie tentatively rested her hands on his chest, and studied his tanned, rugged features. His kiss had aroused a host of emotions inside her. Her response had been involuntary, but still there was a lingering fear she could not dispel. She wanted so much to believe she remembered him, but deep down she was forced to admit that, apart from the brief flicker of recognition she’d felt as she’d first looked into his eyes, he was still a stranger. A handsome one, but a stranger. A shiver of apprehension slithered down her spine as she gazed up at him. There was a hardness about him, a look that almost dared her to deny him... No, she was imagining things. He was here for her, wasn’t he...?

  ‘I think so,’ she finally answered him. She might be injured, but she would have had to be brain-dead not to realise he was a devastatingly attractive man. Her senses were captivated by his touch, the musky male scent of him, and the warmth of his powerful body was the stuff of fantasy. On impulse Josie added mischievously, ‘But you could try again just to make sure!’

  It was his turn to look surprised; his dark eyes flared briefly, and his arms tightened around her. She could feel the heavy beating of his heart against her own, then once again his mouth sought hers. The kiss seemed to go on for ever and lit an answering response in Josie. She wrapped her slender arms around his neck. Yes, yes this was real. Josie groaned, and when he ended it she was trembling.

  ‘Josie,’ he breathed unsteadily. ‘We’d better stop.’ Holding her close, with one hand he gently stroked the back of her head as she buried her face in his broad chest.

  It was so good to feel the solid warmth of his body, and for long moments she was content to wallow in the protection and comfort he offered her. The sense of loneliness, desolation she had felt after talking to the doctor miraculously disappeared to be replaced with a growing sense of security in Conan’s arms. ‘I am convinced,’ she murmured. ‘But I still have no memory.’

  ‘Trust me, Josie.’ He gently nuzzled her hair. ‘The doctor has explained everything to me, and it will all come back eventually.’ Easing her gently back against the pillows, he held her hands loosely in his. ‘But in the meantime you must not try to force your memory. I’ll answer any questions that are really bothering you. Okay?’ He smiled.

  ‘Okay.’ She grinned back at him. ‘But I have a million questions; I hardly know where to start. First—how did the accident happen? Was I driving? Who else—?’

  ‘Wait. Wait,’ he cut in. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you listen and I’ll tell you what the doctor thinks you need to know.’ And he proceeded to do so. ‘The accident was unavoidable, and there was no one else involved. You were driving back from the antenatal clinic. There was ice on the road and the car skidded into the ditch. But I blame myself because I allowed you to drive yourself.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t blame yourself; it was obviously simply an act of God...or my bad driving.’

  ‘You’re very generous, Josie,’ his hands tightened around hers. ‘But it was my fault I should never have let you go alone, and I’ll never let you go alone again,’ he declared fiercely.

  ‘And am I alone? I mean, do I have any family apart from you?’ She had to ask because it had occurred to Josie that there had been no mention of any visitors other than Conan.

  ‘Ah, Josie, you cut me to the quick!’ He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, but his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I thought I was enough for you,’ he said teasingly, before going on to explain that she had a father, who was currently on a world cruise. He had contacted the ship—it was somewhere in the Indian Ocean, and her father had intended leaving at the next port of call to come back to see her. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I called the ship again this afternoon and told him there was no need for him to cancel his cruise—you were recovering fine.’

  ‘Cruising on his own? That sounds lonely,’ she murmured.

  ‘Not alone. My father is with him.’

  ‘So our families are friends? That’s nice.’ She grinned. The information reassured her. Conan was definitely her husband and they were happily married. ‘But what about brothers or sisters? Do I have any?’

  ‘No, and your mother died when you were young.’

  ‘Oh. So do you have any siblings I should know?’


  He glanced down at their entwined hands. ‘No; like you I only have a father.’

  She looked at his down-bent head, and frowned. She had the strangest feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling her...

  Catching her frown, he gave her a reassuring smile and talked on, filling in all the details she needed to know in a calm, reassuring manner: how old she was, where they lived, and his career as a banker.

  She looked around the room. It was obviously a private room, tastefully furnished, with pictures on the walls, and an en-suite bathroom. ‘Is this a private suite, a private hospital? ’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘You have a very wealthy husband, you lucky girl.’

  ‘And a very conceited one,’ Josie offered as the nurse bustled through the door.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Zarcourt, visiting is over for this evening, but I must say, Josie, you look much better. I knew your husband would soon put a smile back on your face.’

  It was only when Ann mentioned her face that Josie realised she had no idea what she actually looked like...

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ Conan said softly, and, briefly pressing his lips to hers, he stood up.

  He had read her mind. ‘How did you...?’

  ‘Because you’re mine. My wife.’ And the dark golden eyes resting on her gleamed with proud possession.

  Much later, as Josie drifted gently into sleep, she smiled softly reliving Conan’s parting kiss. Her husband...

  In the morning, Josie swung her legs over the side of the bed, a strong arm at her elbow supporting her, but for an instant she felt dizzy.

  ‘Come on, Josie; if you want your hair washed, you have to make it to the bathroom,’ Ann commanded.

  ‘It’s okay for you,’ Josie smiled up at the nurse. ‘You haven’t been out cold for days.’

  She had awakened feeling physically almost normal, but mentally she was still trying to remember her past. But when Ann had walked in with a huge bunch of red roses, the accompanying card reading, ‘Love, Conan,’ every nagging worry had been pushed from her mind.