The Price of a Wife Page 12

  CHAPTER SIX

  'Oh, how lovely.' Contrary to Josie's expectations, they had walked right through the dining room and out onto a massive veranda that ran the length of it, where a small wooden table and chairs were set amidst huge terracotta pots filled with scented shrubs and flowers and trailing ivy. The dining room was situated at the back of the house, and overlooked a large rose garden in which several tiny fountains splashed and shimmered among the velvet blooms of pink and red and white; the air was redolent with their heady perfume and filled with the tinkling sound of water.

  'I thought you would prefer a less formal meal,' Luke said softly as he pulled out a chair for her to be seated. 'My mother always takes her meals here when she visits, unless it is an occasion of some sort. My father had the rose garden planted for her some years after they were married. Her parents' home in Italy was built round a large central courtyard which was full of roses, and he felt it would give her pleasure to have a taste of her native land.'

  'Was she homesick?' Josie asked tentatively. It hardly seemed fair to question him about his own family and life when she was so reticent in return, but he merely nodded at her, although a shadow passed over his face that she didn't understand.

  'Painfully so in the early days, I understand,' he said quietly. 'She came from a large family and they were all very close. She was the first child to leave and found it very hard to adapt. She invited her relations here constantly and gave them far more attention than she gave my father, although she loved him more than life itself. It took her some time to come to terms with what she really wanted, but then something happened and it proved to her that he was more important than anything else in the final analysis. I think their marriage really started from that point,' he added thoughtfully, his eyes looking inwards at something she didn't like to enquire about. 'That's the trouble with love, isn't it?' He suddenly looked straight at her, his eyes intent.

  'I don't understand.' She stared at him warily, unsure of how to respond.

  'It costs. One way or another it always costs, and there is always one person who sacrifices more than the other.' His eyes were narrowed slits of light and she was unable to lead anything in their silver depths. 'Isn't that what you've discovered? This man who's hurt you so badly couldn't have done so if you hadn't let yourself become vulnerable, and that is the most costly thing of all.'

  You're on the wrong track, completely the wrong track, she told him silently as she stared back into the harsh, rugged face that was so fiercely attractive. If only that was all it was. But he was right about one thing. Peter had hurt her, devastatingly, savagely so, but not because she had loved him or he her. Nothing as noble as that. And the hurt had been physical and permanent.

  She shrugged carefully. 'You've got it all worked out?' she asked flatly. 'Is that what you think? That there has to be some mystery, some heartless lover in my past?'

  'No, I haven't got it all worked out, Josie,' he said softly. 'Not yet. But I will.'

  'I'm just an ordinary working girl, Luke.' The hard, almost chilling way in which he had spoken frightened her but she was determined not to let it show. That would only add more fuel to the fire. 'I'm sorry to disappoint you, but what you see is what you get. The mystery is all in your own mind.'

  'Perhaps.' The silver gaze didn't waver, but as he reached across the table and took one of her small hands in his he turned her fingers over in his hold, exposing her tiny palm and running one finger lightly across it.

  'Don't!' She tried to snatch her hand away, but he had anticipated her reaction and the hand holding hers merely tightened its grip.

  'I wish I believed it was possible to read what's written here,' he said quietly, his voice deep and husky as his finger continued to wander up and down the softness of her palm until she knew he could feel trembling he was inducing.

  'But perhaps that would be too easy. What do you think?'

  'I think Madame Marat is bringing out lunch.' She could have kissed the formidable housekeeper for returning at that precise moment, but Luke shook his head slowly, his eyes tight on her.

  'And they say men are unromantic,' he said softly as Madame Marat bustled to their side.

  Lunch was light but delicious. The first course, bouillabaisse, a saffron-flavoured fish stew, was presented in small bowls with freshly baked rolls which were still warm from the oven, and the wafer-thin smoked ham and sauté potatoes that Madame Marat served afterwards perfectly complemented the aioli, a garlicky mayonnaise, and crunchy raw vegetables and salad. The dessert was nothing more elaborate than fresh fruit, but the ripe peaches were huge and juicy and the bowl of succulent dark red cherries temptingly moreish.

  'That was lovely.' Josie leant back in her seat as she sipped the last of her sparkling mineral water. 'Does your cook always feed you like that?' she asked lightly, knowing she was deliberately delaying the moment when she informed him that she was going to start work at once.

  'Always.' He eyed her smilingly. 'She knows I'm a growing boy.'

  'Has she been with you long?' Josie asked curiously.

  'For ever.' He shrugged casually. 'She's never married, but Josephine is her niece and the gardener is her brother so it's a small family inside a family. Even Madame Marat was recommended by her ten years ago, when our other housekeeper retired. They used to go to school together, I understand.'

  'You place a high value on family, don't you?' she staled flatly.

  'I told you, I'm half-Italian.' His face had straightened at her tone. 'It bothers you?' he asked softly, after a few seconds when she didn't speak. 'This family side of things?'

  'Good gracious, no.' She forced a light laugh as she stood up, dropping her bleached linen napkin onto the table beside the crystal wineglass. 'It's your business whom you employ; I wouldn't dream—'

  'That is not what I meant and you know it.' He too had risen, but his eyes were tolerant as he looked down at her standing so small and slender in front of him.

  As she looked up into the darkly attractive face she had a nasty feeling that his indulgence would soon evaporate once he understood she had no intention of falling in with his plans for the afternoon.

  'You do not think it is natural for a man to want to settle down with the woman he loves and have children with her?'

  The most natural thing in the world, she thought silently as she made her face blank. 'Natural?' She dropped her eyes from the intent silver gaze. Lying was going to be difficult enough, but it would be virtually impossible with those laser-beams dissecting her mind. 'Do you mean to say that if a woman doesn't want children she isn't natural?'

  'No, I do not mean to say that,' he said softly as his eyes narrowed faintly. 'And there is no need to protect your career, your…solitary lifestyle so aggressively. I am merely saying that when two people love each other they normally reach a stage in their lives where children become necessary to both of than.'

  'In your opinion,' she said flatly.

  'Exactly.' His eyes narrowed still more. 'In my albeit humble opinion. I take it high-flying women executives still allow others, even men, to have an opinion?'

  'Of course.' There was an aching, painful feeling in her heart region. It was so easy for him, wasn't it? she thought savagely. He assumed, as the vast majority of the population assumed, that when he was ready to procreate it would happen like clockwork. And mostly it did…for other people.

  'Well, that, at least, is somewhat reassuring,' he drawled, with a heavy dose of mockery that grated on her raw nerves like a fingernail scratching down a blackboard.

  'Well, now I've restored your confidence in the magnanimity of the female race I'll just go and get my briefcase from the hall.' Her voice was cool but her cheeks were flaming as she moved past him and walked swiftly into the dining room. 'I need to get some accurate measurements—'

  'Just a moment.' She was halfway across the room when he spoke. Her chin went up, but the tenor of his voice halted her in her tracks and her eyes were veiled and wary when s
he turned to face him.

  'Yes?' She met the lethal glare head-on.

  'Your briefcase, along with the rest of your luggage, is now in your room,' he said coldly. 'I will show you where that is so you can change into a swimming costume.'

  'I didn't bring one.' It was the easy way out but it was also the truth. She hadn't intended this to be a holiday in even the mildest sense of the word. 'And I really do need to work this afternoon,' she continued carefully. 'I have worked out a very tight schedule—'

  'Damn your schedule.' She'd been right; the indulgence hadn't lasted long. 'I've told you what I expect you to do this afternoon.'

  For a moment the sheer arrogance in both his voice and stance took her breath away, but then she straightened rigidly, her own eyes flashing sparks and her small chin stuck out at an impossible angle as she faced him. 'Whatever you expect, my actual employer is still Top Promotions,' she said stiffly. 'I have never yet wasted company time, and I don't intend to start now.'

  'Wasted?' If the word had been a gross obscenity he couldn't have reacted more violently.

  'Yes, wasted,' she repeated bravely, willing herself not to wilt beneath his rage. 'You said yourself we have to see the caterers and the builders tomorrow, as well as—'

  'You don't need to remind me what I said,' he blazed tightly. 'There is nothing wrong with my memory.'

  'Well, then…' She took a deep breath and prayed that the intimidation she was experiencing didn't show. 'There are only so many hours in a day—'

  'Spare me the platitudes.' He had crossed the room and passed her in three strides. 'Well?' He turned at the door and inclined his head, his eyes icy. 'Are you coming to your room for that damn briefcase or not?'

  She'd won? She followed him out into the vast hall and up the long, winding staircase to the first-floor bedrooms with a feeling of disbelief tempering the awe that the beautiful house inspired in her. She had the distinct feeling that very few people had ever won a battle of wills with Luke Hawkton, and she didn't trust him.

  'Your room.' He stopped outside a pale oak door halfway down the landing and glanced down at her, his eyes hooded now and distant. 'I'll come back for you in ten minutes, when you've got your stuff together.'

  'There's no need,' she said quickly. 'You go down to the pool as you'd planned. I can find my way about and—'

  'Ten minutes.' He opened the door and stood aside for her to enter, and after one glance at his set face she scurried inside with a little nod and a muttered 'Thank you'.

  Her 'room' turned out to be a suite, with a small sitting room, complete with large desk in one corner, a generous-sized bedroom dominated by a huge four-poster bed, and an extremely luxurious bathroom with every mod con, including a Jacuzzi. The colour scheme was one of delicate yellows and soft bluey-greens throughout, the butter-cream walls and high sculptured ceilings adding to the general impression of light and airiness.

  'Oh, wow…' She stood for a full minute just gazing about her, totally overwhelmed, before moving to the far wall in the sitting room where three narrow full-length windows allowed the bright sunlight outside to stream into the room. The view beyond was one of rolling lawns and landscaped gardens down to a huge swimming pool some distance from the house, beyond which the lawns stretched again, encompassing three good-sized tennis courts before petering out into snowy white sand and small curling waves as the sea lapped gently up the Hawkton private beach.

  'And double, triple wow,' she muttered faintly. Luke had told her, in the details he had sent to the office about the house and grounds, that there were twelve bedrooms in all, and if they were all like this… She shook her head weakly before turning from the window and fetching her briefcase from the desk where it had been placed. 'You're way, way out of your depth, girl.'

  She was ready and waiting for Luke's knock, but utterly unprepared for the sight of him as she opened the door. He was naked, almost, a brief pair of midnight-blue swimming trunks his only clothing, leaving his powerfully muscled torso, wide, broad shoulders and sinewy arms and legs bare except for the light covering of dark body hair that curled more thickly on his chest, the tight little corkscrews drawing her eyes in helpless fascination.

  He was overwhelmingly, thrustingly, blatantly male, and for a moment the impulse to slam the door shut and run for coyer was paramount, before she pulled herself together, dragging her eyes away with an effort as she reached down for the large folder at her feet.

  'I'll take the briefcase and portfolio.' His deep voice held a thread of amusement and she knew, she just knew, that he had noticed and planned for her discomfiture. He had a dark blue towelling robe slung casually over one arm that he could quite easily have worn, but it had been a shock tactic, she realised suddenly. He was forcing her to acknowledge the attraction between them.

  The thought galvanised her legs in a way nothing else could have done and enabled her to lift her head and give him a hard glare, her eyes focusing directly and only on his face. Out of her depth? like hell she was, she thought defiantly.

  'Thank you,' she said with polite, unsmiling formality.

  'My pleasure,' he answered in exactly the same tone.

  The rest of the afternoon was an exercise in remaining calm under enemy fire as far as Josie was concerned. He stood by her side, at ease with himself and the world about him, while she measured the proposed site for the fair and the ice rink, the sunlight turning his lean body into shadowed silk and his eyes hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses.

  She was painfully aware of every movement he made as he leant over her shoulder to discuss her notes, strolled through the grounds carrying her briefcase and folder from place to place, and led her down to the beach so she could view the small harbour with its jetty and boathouse. His hard, powerful thighs, the way the muscles in his body tensed and relaxed as he moved, the line of hair that narrowed from the thickness on his chest into the brief trunks-she was aware of it all. Every moment. Every single moment. And determined not to let him know it.

  The anger helped. Anger that she had allowed herself to be put in such a ridiculous position, anger that she had let this man penetrate the barrier she had thought was so strong and firm, anger that he was playing with her, like a satisfied cat with a tiny mouse, and anger that she hadn't won the battle at all. In fact the way she felt was as if the war itself had been well and truly lost. She should have known, when he'd capitulated so easily, that he would have his revenge for her refusal to spend the afternoon in the way he had suggested.

  'How much more of the day do you intend to waste?' She had just satisfied herself that the Night Hawk's grand entrance would be able to be seen by everyone in the grounds when Luke spoke, his voice calm and unemotional.

  'I have not been wasting anything,' she said hotly as she swung to face him, a slight breeze from the water's edge where she had wandered blowing a cloud of silky red hair across her fact. 'It might have escaped your notice, but I've been working—hard.'

  'Nothing you do escapes my attention, Josie.' His mouth twisted in a wry smile. 'Nothing at all. However—' He raised an authoritative hand as she went to interrupt him. 'It is now five o'clock and you have been out here work—' he laid a slight emphasis on the last word '—for three hours. Surely even you would concede that a drink by the pool is in order?'

  'OK.' Her voice was reluctant, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her.

  'But first you change into something more…suitable.' It was an order, not a question.

  'I told you, I didn't bring a swimming costume,' she said evenly, blessing the fact.

  'That slight oversight is no longer a problem,' he countered smoothly. 'I think you'll find everything you need in your room.'

  'My room?' She stared at him, puzzled. 'I don't understand…'

  'I asked Josephine to pop into town with Louis and purchase a few things.' His eyes were like weapons, holding hers. 'It would be a crime not to enjoy the pool and the beach while you are here, don't you think?'

  'Y
ou…' Her voice trailed away as anger replaced blank amazement. 'You did what?' she asked tightly.

  'And you needn't thank me now.' He took her arm, ignoring the rage suffusing her delicate features as he began to walk back to the house. 'It is the least I can do for a house-guest.'

  'I am not a house-guest.' She shook herself free as the feel of the big, almost naked body next to hers did strange things to her hormones. 'And you know it. I'm—'

  'An employee,' he drawled resignedly.

  'Exactly.' She stared up at him furiously, tiny and ethereal in the sunlight that turned her hair into living fire. 'What will Josephine and the others think about you buying me clothes like that? It looks as if, as if—'

  He cut into her splutterings with a mocking laugh that made her want to hit him—hard. The only problem was that she had a long way to move before she could reach his face. 'It looks as if you forgot your bathing wear,' he said with a silky innocence that didn't fool her for a minute. 'Which is what you did, isn't it? Now, stop being so ridiculously narrow-minded. What my staff do or do not think is not your problem; it's mine.'

  'I don't believe you,' she spat tightly. 'I just don't believe anyone would resort to such lengths just to get their own way. You've made me look foolish—'

  'Not at all,' he said easily, but with a thread of steel now lacing the lazy drawl. 'You do far too good a job of that yourself for me to be able to improve on perfection.' As she raised her hand to strike he caught it easily in his long, capable fingers, shaking his head sorrowfully as he did so.

  'Josie Owens, cold, capable career woman, ambitious high-flyer, how could you think of biting the hand that feeds you?' he asked mockingly. 'Hardly the action of a lady with an eye to the main chance.'

  'You—'

  'But there is fire beneath that cool facade, isn't there?' Suddenly the mockery and cool ridicule had vanished, and his eyes were searching her white face in which two furious spots of colour burnt. 'Fire and a lot, lot more. Who are you really?'