A Husband of Convenience Page 3

  ‘But surely you don’t agree with him?’ she asked. ‘I mean, it can’t matter to you. You don’t even live here.’

  ‘No, I don’t, but I should,’ he responded bluntly with a degree of bitterness Josie could not fail to recognise. So it was all the more surprising when he asked coolly, ‘Do you like living in this house, Josie?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ What was he talking about now? she wondered, looking around the familiar room, her eyes eventually returning to Conan. He sat forward in his chair, his dark head bent, apparently staring at his hands clasped loosely between his splayed thighs. The only sounds were the steady tick of the grandfather clock and the logs crackling and burning in the open fire.

  ‘This farmhouse was the family home of the Major. He lived here with his first wife—Charles was born here.’ He raised his head. ‘I don’t suppose he told you that?’ he queried with a grim smile.

  ‘No, no, he didn’t,’ Josie said, not sure where the conversation was going.

  ‘I’m not surprised. Contrary to the impression, my father, the Major, likes to give,’ he drawled sardonically, ‘the Major was not always owner of Beeches Manor. He only acquired that position by marrying my mother. Perhaps if I explain the family history it will answer your question as to why I want to marry you.’

  Josie wished he would. She couldn’t understand what he was getting at, or his obvious cynicism. But there was no mistaking the hardness in his eyes, and an implacable determination that Josie found vaguely disturbing.

  ‘My full name is Conan Devine Zarcourt. Conan from the Celtic meaning wisdom, and Devine being my mother’s maiden name. For centuries, Devines have owned the Beeches Manor estate, but my grandfather and mother were the last of the line. When she married Major Zarcourt, the Major and Charles moved into the Manor with my mother and grandfather and rented this house out as a holiday home. I was born a year after their wedding, and I don’t think it was long after that my mother realised she had made a mistake.

  ‘As a young child I was not aware there was anything wrong in my parents’ relationship. But then my grandfather was still alive, and any coldness on my father’s part was more than made up for by my grandfather. Plus my mother packed me off to boarding-school when I was seven.’

  ‘How awful for you,’ Josie offered; the thought of a young boy away from home at such a tender age seemed so cruel.

  One dark brow arched sardonically. ‘Sorry to disillusion you, but you are wrong.’ His hard-eyed gaze caught hers, denying her sympathy. ‘My parents and I were never that close. It was my grandfather I missed. For years I had grown up with the sure knowledge that the Manor would be mine. Grandfather Devine never stopped telling me so. He died when I was eleven, but unfortunately he had signed the Manor over to my mother a few years before he died to avoid death duties, on the strict understanding it was to be held in trust for me, as the only Devine. But my mother had other ideas. As soon as Grandfather died she took off with her lover. Apparently, in her desperation to get a speedy divorce from the Major she agreed to break the trust and sign the Manor over to him. She lives in New Zealand now, I believe.’

  ‘But how could she do that?’ Josie asked, horrified.

  ‘Quite easily, apparently. When I came of age at eighteen the Major took great delight in telling me the whole story. He had married my mother for the Manor. I was a mistake, a complication he didn’t need, and he even questioned my paternity. He’d joined his own farmland to the Manor and managed the whole estate for years, and he intended to go on doing so until Charles showed an interest in it. Then he was going to pass the whole lot on to his eldest and favourite son, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it—’

  ‘I can’t believe your mother or the Major would behave like that,’ Josie cut in. She didn’t particularly care for the old man, but she couldn’t believe he would treat his own child so shabbily.

  ‘Ah, Josie, how you do like to think the best of people. It is one of your many charms,’ he said with a wry smile, before adding, ‘But, believe me, everything I have told you is the truth. And now, with your help, I have the chance to get my heritage back, and I intend to take it...’

  She glanced across at him, her violet eyes caught and held by the burning intensity in the depths of his. Inwardly she shivered. There was something totally implacable about him. As for her helping him, Josie still failed to see what it had to do with her, or why Conan wanted to marry her.

  ‘But with Charles dead you will inherit everything anyway,’ she said cautiously, letting her gaze drop to a spot past his shoulder. Perhaps she was still too shocked to think clearly, because she felt she’d missed the point somewhere. But she wasn’t about to get embroiled any further. She had enough problems of her own. ‘I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but it has absolutely nothing to do with me,’ Josie continued firmly, straightening her shoulders. She’d no intention of marrying him or anyone else, and it was time she asserted herself.

  In one lithe movement Conan left his seat and joined her on the sofa. His closeness unnerved her. Her body tensed as his large hand caught her chin, turning her face to his.

  His dark eyes narrowed intently on her face. ‘But it has everything to do with you. I know this is a terrible time for you, Josie, and I would do anything to avoid causing you any more pain, believe me.’ His face darkened into an expression that made Josie wish she hadn’t tried to dismiss him so bluntly. ‘But I want what’s rightfully mine, and you are the means by which I will get it,’ he informed her ruthlessly.

  A chill shivered its way down the length of her spine as he dropped his hand from her chin. ‘And we must get this settled quickly. Unfortunately time is the one commodity we do not have in your condition.’

  Josie grimaced at the reminder.

  ‘Let me spell it out for you. The Major and I had a long talk last night, and we’ve made a deal. I marry you, give your child the Zarcourt name, and in return I get my rightful inheritance back immediately. Otherwise he will leave everything to you on his death, provided you produce a son; if not, he’ll leave it to the church, the dogs’ home—anyone other than me.’

  Josie was lost for words. She could only gaze at Conan in dumb amazement. He couldn’t be serious!

  ‘Well, do you agree? Will you marry me?’ he asked, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa and clasping her shoulder. ‘Or perhaps, like most women, your mercenary little soul wants to take the chance on giving birth to a son and keeping it for yourself,’ he added cynically.

  ‘I would never do that!’ Josie cried, finally finding her voice, insulted that Conan should even think such a thing. ‘I don’t have a mercenary bone in my body,’ she informed him, jerking around to the side and shrugging his hand off her shoulder in the process.

  ‘In that case, Josie, what’s the difference? One Zarcourt is as good as another to be a father to your child, and at least it will keep the poor kid in the family.’

  Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer arrogance of his brutally realistic comment. ‘That’s totally stupid. You can’t just walk in here and say you want to marry me, simply to get your hands on the Manor House. Anyway, what the Major is suggesting isn’t fair. You are his son, you are entitled to the estate. You shouldn’t be forced to marry me to get it.’

  ‘Not much is fair in this world, Josie, as I think you’re beginning to find out,’ he offered dryly, before adding, ‘But there’s no force involved on my part. I want to marry you. You’re a very lovely girl, and I can think of a hundred more selfish reasons for wanting you as my wife.’

  She closed her eyes for a second, his words forcibly reminding her of the hopelessness of her own situation. When she opened them he was watching her, the expression in his dark eyes, so oddly flecked with gold, seeming sincere, and yet there was something more she could not name in their mysterious depths. She was tempted to agree to marry him. It would solve all her problems. But the memory of the one night she’d spent with Charles rose up in her mind,
and she did not fancy repeating the experience. She couldn’t...

  ‘So what is it to be, Josie? You help me and I swear I will take great care of you.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I hardly know you. I—well...’ She slid to a halt, unable to find the words. He said he thought she was lovely and he had other reasons for wanting to marry her. Did he expect her to go to bed with him ? She didn’t know and she wasn’t about to ask. As far as she was concerned it wasn’t an option. But as if he could read her mind Conan went on.

  ‘If it’s sharing a bed with me that’s bothering you, forget it. Not that I wouldn’t mind if you did.’ He gave her a very masculine grin. ‘But I promise I wouldn’t dream of making you do anything you didn’t want to. You have my word on it.’

  Josie wasn’t sure she believed him. It struck her quite forcibly that Conan wasn’t the sort of man to be celibate for very long. In her friend Zoe’s parlance the man was hot and even Josie, who was off sex for life, could sense the virile sexuality of the man. So it followed he must have a girlfriend somewhere. No sooner had the thought entered her head than she was voicing it.

  ‘But surely a man of your age must have a woman in his life, someone who might object to you up and marrying an almost total stranger?’ Josie was young but she wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the way Conan looked at her, and she doubted very much he went through life like a monk.

  ‘No, there is no one of any importance, but if you’re asking for my sexual history I’ve had two what you might call long-term relationships, neither of which included sharing my home with the lady in question.’ His dark eyes fixed on her flushed face. ‘You, on the other hand, will share my home when we marry, and you can count on my fidelity as much as I can count on yours. Satisfied?’

  ‘As long as it is only your home and not your bed,’ she said bluntly, not entirely sure she liked his answer.

  ‘Good. I knew you would see sense. Now, if you have no further questions I will get everything arranged.’

  ‘Wait a minute. I never said I would marry you.’ She eased a little further back along the sofa, putting more space between them. ‘I need time to think.’

  He noted her furtive shuffle with the sardonic arch of one black brow. ‘Take as long as you like.’ And, glancing at the fine gold watch on his wrist he added, ‘As long as it’s no more than sixty seconds.’

  Arrogant devil, she thought, but she also thought of her father, and the worry she was causing him, and her unborn child. How easy it would be to pass all her troubles on to someone else’s shoulders, and Conan’s were broad enough, she thought, glancing at his physique—so strong, so protective. But...and it was a big but...she didn’t love Conan, . and he didn’t love her. But then she had thought she’d loved Charles, and look where that had got her. In this mess. She wasn’t a coward, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. She had looked after her ageing father for the past few years as well as holding down a job.

  The trouble, Josie realised, was that it was a catch-22 situation. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. If she refused to marry Conan and her child was a boy, the estate would come to her, and she would look like the worst kind of gold-digger. If she did marry Conan just for the sake of the baby, was that any better?

  She wanted the very best for her child, and if that meant living with Conan for a year or so, would that be so bad? She thought of her father earlier, blaming himself for her predicament, feeling guilty because he was convinced he had neglected her in some way and betrayed his late wife’s trust. It would put her father’s mind at ease if she married Conan, she knew. The Major and Conan would be satisfied, and realistically her one brush with sex had put her off for life. She could not see herself falling in love and marrying in the normal course of events, not any more...

  ‘If, if I agreed...’ His dark eyes flared triumphantly, and one of his large hands caught her left hand in his. Josie shivered. ‘I said if,’ she reiterated. ‘I need to know a lot more about the nuts and bolts of the arrangement. For example, I have a job.’

  Conan squeezed her hand. ‘Josie, I know you’re a legal secretary at Brownlow’s law firm in Cheltenham, and I would never deprive you of a career. You are simply creating difficulties where none exist Ours will be a straightforward marriage of convenience.’

  ‘A marriage of convenience,’ Josie murmured. She liked the sound of that. ‘A straightforward business arrangement, you mean?’ she asked glancing up at him.

  ‘Of course,’ he confirmed lightly, his dark eyes holding hers.

  ‘In that case, yes, all right.’ She could live with that for the benefit of her child.

  ‘Good. I’m glad we are agreed. Now, for the sake of the Major and your own father, it would obviously be better if you came and lived in my house in London until after the birth of your child.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Josie pulled her hand from his. ‘Move? I thought the whole idea was you wanted the Manor and you just agreed I could keep my job?’

  Conan sat back on the sofa. ‘I do want the Manor, but have you looked at the place lately? My father has not spent a penny on it in years. It needs a complete overhaul, and until that is done London is the obvious place to be as my work is there. As for your job—what I said was, I would never deprive you of a career. In principle, I believe in a woman working, fulfilling her potential. But you’d have to leave your present job in a few months anyway when your condition becomes obvious, and you don’t need me to tell you what the gossip mill is like around here.’

  He was right about the gossip; the locals would be counting the days from the wedding to the birth. Not that Josie cared. But her father would and Conan might. She had rarely heard his name mentioned—he was obviously the expert at avoiding gossip, and she had a vague idea he’d lived abroad for a long time. Suddenly Josie realised she knew very little about him. ‘What do you actually do?’ she blurted.

  ‘Come now, Josie, surely you know.’ he prompted.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she snapped back, aware of the cynicism in his tone.

  ‘I work in a bank,’ he replied. ‘A merchant bank.’

  ‘Oh; my father did that until he retired.’ And somehow the thought that Conan and her father shared the same career made Josie feel more kindly disposed towards him.

  ‘I own the bank.’

  Josie’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘What?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘My grandfather left me some shares which my father could not get his hands on. At twenty-one I inherited a sizable block of shares in a merchant bank. I went to London, worked hard and got the opportunity to buy a controlling interest, and I took it. I expanded the business to the USA with branches in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, which is why for the past few years I’ve lived mostly in America.’

  Glancing at him, Josie could easily believe him. He looked dangerous, his hard features curiously remote, but his eyes were watchful and incredibly dark. ‘You must be rich. I never knew,’ she said, astonished by his revelation.

  As he caught her stunned expression, Conan’s lips curved in a grim smile. ‘I don’t suppose there was any reason why you should. The Major seems to think working in the city is slightly disreputable,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘But someone in our beleaguered family had to make money.’

  Something clicked in Josie’s mind. That fateful night of the party. Charles had gone quiet when Conan had mentioned the end-of-quarter accounts. Surely he did not keep Charles and his father supplied with money? ‘You helped support Charles—?’ She was cut off before she could finish the question.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Josie, can we get down to basics?’ Conan interrupted harshly, and, jumping to his feet, he prowled around the small room before returning to stand in front of her.

  His hard, chiselled features were still, almost brooding. His dark eyes locked with hers, and his expression was impossible to read. ‘How many people have you told about your engagement to Charles?’

  ‘No one,’ she answered, too surprised by hi
s outburst and change of subject to prevaricate.

  A dark brow climbed quizzically. ‘No one, not even you colleagues at work, your friends?’

  ‘No.’ Josie felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and tried to justify her reticence. ‘You were there that night you heard Charles tell your father; it was to be unofficial until...’ She swallowed remembering what had happened to Charles and what day it was. ‘Well, until he was supposed to return—today.’ She lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze.

  ‘You do surprise me! A woman who can keep a secret about her personal life. I thought you would have bragged to all and sundry you had caught the county’s most eligible bachelor.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you but I didn’t.’ Not for a million pounds was she going to admit it was because she had intended calling the whole thing off. Even discovering she was pregnant had not persuaded her to marry Charles.

  ‘So only your father, the Major and I know about your engagement to Charles. You’re absolutely sure?’ he demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ she repeated, glancing briefly back up at him and wondering why it was so important.

  ‘Great.’ A triumphant gleam shone in his golden eyes. ‘And it’s a safe bet Charles never mentioned it to anyone so that makes everything much easier.’ He slid one hand into his pocket.

  Why was he so certain Charles had kept it a secret? Josie wondered, but she was distracted as her eyes involuntarily followed his hand and she gulped as the fabric of his jeans pulled taut across his thigh outlining exactly how masculine he was. Appalled at the direction her thoughts had taken, she scrambled to her feet, and stepped past him, her face burning. Then, turning and tilting her head to look up at him, she managed to ask, ‘Why easier?’

  He withdrew a small box from his pocket. ‘Simple, Josie.’ Opening the box, he caught her hand and slipped an exquisite diamond and sapphire ring in an antique setting on the third finger of her left hand.

  Josie looked at the ring, and up at Conan, and back at the ring. He had certainly come prepared, she thought, angry at his arrogant assumption that she would accept his proposal. ‘But...’