A Convenient Wedding

She was glad of her decision when she landed and could zonk out on a comfortable bed. But after only a couple of hours she awoke feeling fine, and a shower followed by a hearty breakfast completed her recovery.

She was humming as she dressed in Benedict’s latest creation, an elegant olive-green trouser suit in a silk mo-hair blend, with a tawny sweater and matching silk scarf.

‘I suppose I should have called Lord Larne first,’ she mused, putting the finishing touches to her make-up. ‘Well, I would have done if I really meant to marry him. As it is, I just had a temper tantrum, and serves me right! Oh, Larry, the things you make me do! This is all your fault!’

Briefly she thought of catching the next flight home, but outside her window the day was glorious, and an adventure beckoned.

At the car rental firm she picked up an open-topped red sports two-seater that reminded her of her beloved car back home. A few minutes getting used to having the steering wheel on the left, and the traffic on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, and she was away on the hundred and twenty miles to Larne.

Driving carefully, she reached York without mishap, and went for meal in an oak-beamed restaurant. As she ate she studied her map, noting that the castle was on a small island just off the coast. But the road travelled straight across the water, so obviously there was a bridge.

She read Lord Larne’s letter again and was charmed by its light-hearted air. He spoke of poverty but with a humorous touch that suggested he might be pleasant to know.

It was getting late when she restarted her journey. By the time she’d reached open country the light was already fading and there was a nip in the air.

The map informed her that she’d reached North York Moor. Luckily there was a clearly marked road across it, and twenty miles would bring her to the coast and the bridge to Larne Castle.

As she headed across the moor the sun vanished and black clouds began to scud across the sky. The road had no lighting, and she soon had to switch on her headlamps. Outside their glowing circle the bleak land stretched away for miles. She was totally isolated, and beginning to feel a tad dismayed. All around her the earth grew blacker and the wind gusted strongly. The light sports car didn’t hold the road well, and the rain was getting heavy now. She stopped and got out to try to put up the top. It stuck.

She became chillingly aware of her isolation in this bleak place, with no sign of life in any direction. Not a light. Nothing. It was like being the last person left alive on earth.

But this was an adventure, right? A headless horseman might come galloping past. Just now even a headless horseman would be welcome company.

‘So what the heck if I’m alone?’ she demanded of the starless sky.

Incurable honesty made her add. ‘And lost. And confused.’

She abandoned the attempt to raise the top and got back into the car. There wasn’t much further to go. But ‘adventure’ was definitely fraying at the edges.

‘How do I get myself into these situations?’ she muttered. ‘Oh, well, it can’t be far now. All I need is a friendly local to direct me.’

Right on cue a torch gleamed just up ahead, and soon she discerned the outline of a very tall man. In the headlamps’ glare she could make out that he was wearing faded, muddy trousers and a leather-patched jacket that had seen better days. Here was the ‘local’ she’d wanted, except that he definitely wasn’t friendly. He planted himself rudely in her path and waited for her to stop.

Muttering dire curses, Meryl braked. The car responded sluggishly and the gap between her and the stranger narrowed with alarming speed.

‘Move!’ she shrieked, swerving madly and missing him by a whisker. He hadn’t budged.

She vaulted out of the car and placed herself in front of him, furious, terrified and soaked by the downpour. ‘Have you got a death wish?’ she yelled. ‘What’s the idea of just standing in front of me?’

‘The idea was that you should stop,’ he yelled back against the wind.

‘I tried to. It’s an unfamiliar car. I only hired it this morning.’

‘And you didn’t check the damned brakes.’

‘I did check the brakes. They worked perfectly at the airport.’

‘Then I guess the firm saw you coming.’

She breathed hard. ‘I’ll pass over your rudeness, but I do want to know why you just stood in my path when you must have seen I was having trouble stopping. Why didn’t you get out of the way?’

‘That’s what the world usually does for you, is it? I didn’t move because then you might have driven on, and the road’s under water. I may consider you a total idiot for driving out here in that thing you jokingly call a car, and not dressing properly for these parts, but I don’t want you to drown because I didn’t warn you. Where are you going anyway?’

‘Is that any of your concern?’ she demanded, fighting the crick in her neck. It was infuriating to have to argue with a man so much taller than herself. Meryl could look most men in the eye, but she had to peer right up as this man loomed over her. He was built for looming, too, powerful about the shoulders, with a harsh face and eyes that flashed disagreeably over a slightly hooked nose. He would have been impressive at any time, but from this angle it was like arguing with an enraged bull.

‘It’s my concern if you drive into the sea,’ he snapped. ‘That road doesn’t lead anywhere.’

‘According to the map it leads to Larne Castle.’

‘Well, you can’t go there, so—’

‘Who says I can’t?’

He made a tearing movement at his hair which the rain was plastering to his skull. ‘It’s not open to tourists,’ he yelled over the storm.

‘I am not a tourist!’

‘Then why are you turning up out of the blue?’

‘Who says I’m out of the blue?’

‘I know this—nobody is expecting you.’

‘Oh, yes, they are—well, in a sort of way—maybe not today exactly—hell! Why am I telling you? I am going to Larne Castle.’

‘How? Swim?’

‘Over the bridge.’

The grinding of his teeth was audible even above the storm. ‘Will you listen to me? There is no—’

‘I’ll show you. The map’s just over here in my—why are there two Alsatians sitting in my car?’

‘Out!’ the man yelled and the two vast animals obediently jumped out.

‘That’s it!’ Meryl seethed. ‘I’m getting out of here before I start seeing things—if I’m not seeing them already.’

‘Fine. Turn back.’

‘Don’t give me orders. I’m continuing my journey, and if you stand in front of me again I shall drive over you.’

She thought she heard him mutter, ‘On your own head be it,’ but she couldn’t be certain because she was already speeding on her way.

CHAPTER TWO

MERYL put her foot down. This was one journey she wanted to get finished, fast.

The man had seemed strangely familiar with the castle and its concerns, and it briefly crossed her mind that he might be Lord Larne himself, but she dismissed the thought. That ill-tempered curmudgeon had never written the letter that had charmed her. Probably a family retainer.

She could see where she was going now, the shore lights, and far beyond them the lights of some huge building that must surely be Larne Castle. Straight ahead for the bridge. She squinted, trying to detect the start of the railings. With her attention thus occupied she didn’t realise how far she’d driven until she found herself surrounded by water.

‘I’m in the sea,’ she said, aghast. ‘Where’s the bridge?’

But there was no bridge, only a causeway, fast vanishing under the incoming tide. With horror she saw that the shore was fifty yards behind her. The waves were swelling strongly, and a sickening lurch warned her that her little car wasn’t built for this.

She couldn’t go back. It would have meant trying to turn the vehicle and she didn’t know if the causeway was wide enough. Besides, retreat wasn’t in her nature. She must get ahead as fast as possible. The water had covered the road by only a few inches, and she could just about discern it.

But it grew harder and harder to hold her course. She slammed her foot down, trying to force her way through, but the next moment a huge wave lifted her off the ground, sweeping her sideways, and suddenly she was right off the causeway and sinking.

She tore at her seat belt and just managed to get it open as the car went down. Then she was free, dog paddling like crazy, with no idea where she was.

‘Here! Over here!’

The voice came from behind her, and she struggled around to see the man who’d stopped her back on the road. He was waving the torch to attract her attention.

‘It’s not too deep,’ he yelled. ‘You should be able to touch down, a beanpole like you.’

She managed to feel the ground with the tips of her toes, but then another wave tore at her, pulling her out to deeper water. She went down, struggling madly, came up gasping and tried to cry out. But water filled her mouth as she went down again. The man had vanished from the causeway. Rage filled her. He’d left her to drown.

‘Where are you?’ His voice came from nearby.

‘Here!’ she screamed as the current yanked her further out to sea.

But then—oh, the relief as something that felt like a steel hawser went around her waist, holding her steady against the worst the water could do!

‘It’s all right. I’ve got you,’ said a voice she recognised.

Now she could make out details of him. Before diving in he’d yanked off his heavy overcoat and sweater. Through the thin, sodden shirt she could feel shoulders like cliffs, the swell of taut muscles beneath her hands, the hardness of a heavy torso against her body.

‘Just keep hold of me,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not releasing you until we’re on land.’

‘Suits me,’ she gasped.

‘But if you’d listened to me in the first place—’

‘Must we talk about that now?’

‘No,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Later will be better, and I have plenty to say.’

They’d reached the causeway, where he put her hands firmly onto the stones and told her not to move. She couldn’t have moved in any case. She was half frozen. When he’d climbed up he leaned down, reaching out his hand to grasp hers. She seized it with relief and he hauled her up. She achieved a toehold but slipped back almost at once, and felt a powerful arm shoot out and around her waist.

‘Grab me around the neck,’ he yelled.

She did so and felt herself once more drawn against his body, tense with effort. He lifted her until her feet were clear, and then set her down. Her heart was pounding with fear, excitement and sheer annoyance at being rescued by this man of all people. She could never account for the first words that came out of her mouth.

‘Who are you calling a beanpole?’

‘Quit yakking and get in.’ He indicated his own vehicle. It was old and shabby but very heavy, and it was holding its ground against the surging water.

‘I’ve got papers on the front seat,’ he said. ‘You get in the back.’

‘With them?’ She indicated the two Alsatians occupying the rear.

‘They won’t mind.’

She climbed gingerly in and sat squashed up against the two dogs, who welcomed her with delighted yelps and licks.

‘Thank you for rescuing me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

‘Wouldn’t have been necessary if you had any sense,’ he observed.

‘You might have told me there was no bridge.’

‘I tried, but you wouldn’t listen. There’s just the causeway and it’s only above water at low tide. Luckily I was coming this way in any case, so I knew I’d be there to rescue you from your own foolishness.’

‘You’re going to the castle?’

‘Right.’

‘You know Jarvis Larne?’

He gave a brief flickering glance over his shoulder before returning his attention to the road. ‘Is it him you’ve come to see?’

‘Yes, and I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t mean to turn up like this.’

‘You sound as if you’ve come a long way.’

‘I’m American,’ she said, answering the implied question. ‘From New York.’

‘That’s quite a distance to see a man who isn’t expecting you. What’s your business with him?’

His familiarity irked her enough to make her snap, ‘I’m thinking of marrying him, actually.’

The stunned quality of his silence was very satisfying. It was nice to have found something that would shut him up.

‘Would you mind saying that again?’ he said at last.

‘It’s a long story,’ she said, wishing she’d held her tongue. It wouldn’t do for this tale to reach Jarvis Larne before she did. ‘What I’ve just told you is in confidence.’

‘You wouldn’t want your engagement announced prematurely,’ he agreed.

‘Yes, and there are—things to be settled—’ she said delicately.

‘You mean you haven’t proposed to him yet?’

To her annoyance she felt herself reddening. ‘I mean no such thing!’ she said crossly.

‘You have proposed to him. Did he accept?’

‘I’m not going to discuss this with you.’

‘No, it would be better to discuss it with him, wouldn’t it? After all, he might turn you down.’

‘He can’t afford to,’ Meryl said before she could stop herself, and regretted the words instantly.

‘Really? Then you’re probably right not to let him know you’re coming. Why bother with courtesy if you don’t have to?’

‘Now look—!’

‘We’d better leave this for the moment.’

His assumption of authority irked her but she was shivering too much to make a point of it. To her relief they had nearly arrived, and she could just make out the huge bulk of the castle rearing over them. The car was laboriously climbing a steep road that ended in front of a large wooden door. It opened, and an elderly woman came out.

‘Hannah!’ the man called. ‘Will you look after this lady before she freezes to death?’

Meryl got stiffly out of the vehicle and went gladly to where the light and warmth welcomed her.

‘Come you in,’ Hannah called, standing back to let her pass, and shutting the front door behind her.

To Meryl’s dismay the warmth turned out to be largely illusory. The castle was just about warmer inside than out, and that was all that could be said.

‘You need a fire,’ Hannah said, understanding. ‘And you must get out of those wet clothes.’

She showed Meryl into a room lined with old books, where a log fire burned in an old-fashioned grate. Shivering, she hurried into its blessed circle, and stood with her hands held out to the flames until Hannah reappeared with a bathrobe and some towels.

‘Quick, before you get pneumonia,’ she urged.

Thankfully Meryl threw off her drenched clothes and vigorously scrubbed herself dry while Hannah held the bathrobe up to the fire. Hannah took a hand towel and began to rub her hair, clucking sympathetically.

‘What on earth were you thinking to come here in a storm at this hour?’ she murmured.

‘I was thinking of marrying Lord Larne,’ Meryl said through chattering teeth.

‘What was that?’ Hannah sounded startled. ‘He’s never told any of us he was getting married.’

‘Perhaps he just thought it was private.’

‘Not for him,’ Hannah said at once. ‘There are too many people depending on him. If he could find a pot of gold, we’d all rejoice.’ She darted Meryl a sharp look. ‘Would you be a pot of gold, by any chance?’

Meryl chuckled, liking the old woman’s frankness. ‘I might be,’ she said. ‘But don’t count on the marriage. It’s starting to look like one of my crazier ideas.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘I’m afraid I have a lot of those.’

Hannah didn’t answer. She was examining the discarded clothes, noting their luxurious quality. ‘I’ll take these to dry,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You stay by the fire until your room is ready.’

She hurried out and Meryl huddled before the flames, feeling herself thaw out blissfully. The bathrobe was made for someone much larger and could almost have wrapped twice around her slim figure. She tightened the belt, but still had to clutch the edges together at the front.

The room seemed to be a library. Everywhere she saw signs of one-time grandeur declined to shabbiness. The carpet was threadbare, but no more so than the heavy curtains, battling with small success, to shield the rattling windows.

‘He really needs me,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe we can do business. If only I hadn’t arrived like this! Me! A damsel in distress, for Pete’s sake! Rescued from peril like some Victorian heroine. I’ll never live it down.’

She looked up quickly as the door opened. It was her rescuer, wearing fresh clothes and with his hair rubbed until it was almost dry. She saw now that it was dark brown, shaggy and needed a cut. With him were the two dogs, who made straight for Meryl.

‘Good evening,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster, fending off Alsatians with one hand and holding the robe with the other. ‘You know who I am, but—’

‘I’m Jarvis Larne,’ he said.

Her head whirled. ‘You? Lord Larne? You can’t be!’

It was more wishful thinking than conviction, and Meryl could have bitten off her tongue the moment the words were out. But it was too late now. The man’s sardonic face showed that he could follow her thoughts.

‘Why can’t I be? Because I don’t stand to attention for you? Just who did you think you were talking to back there? The bailiff?’

This was too close for comfort. ‘Certainly not,’ she said with dignity. ‘I never dreamed you could be Lord Larne because you’re so different to your letter.’

‘What letter?’

‘The one you wrote in answer to my advertisement.’

‘Advertisement?’

‘Oh, look! That ad was foolish, I admit, but don’t deny that you answered it. Now I’ve seen this place I can understand why.’

‘Wait a minute,’ he said, peering at her more closely. ‘Are you the woman who was looking for a fortune-hunter?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted defensively. ‘It might have been better put, but—’

‘And you think I’m the answer to your prayers?’

‘No,’ she said with spirit, ‘just the answer to my ad. My prayers are for something quite different.’

‘Then why bother with me?’

‘You wrote to me.’

‘I never wrote to you.’

She pounced on her purse, thankful that this, at least, she’d managed to save from the waves. Pulling out the letter, she thrust it at him. Watching his face as he read the contents, she saw disbelief change to outrage.

‘I’ll kill him,’ he said at last. ‘I will personally wring his stupid neck, and then I’ll boot his rear from here to kingdom come.’

‘Who?’

‘Ferdy Ashton. I recognise his writing and his turn of phrase.’

A cold hand was beginning to clutch Meryl’s stomach. There was something horribly convincing about his exasperation. She’d come all this way—

‘Are you telling me someone else wrote this in your name?’ she demanded. ‘I don’t believe it. Nobody would do such a stupid thing.’

‘Then you don’t know Ferdy,’ Jarvis Larne said bitterly. ‘There’s nothing that idiot wouldn’t get up to. I told him I wanted nothing to do with it—or with you.’

‘For a man who needs money as badly as you do, you’re very high-handed.’

‘My need for money is my business and certainly none of yours. I don’t believe a word of this nonsense. You’re a journalist, aren’t you? Well, you’ll not get a story out of me. I don’t like you. I don’t want you here, and the sooner you’re gone the better I’ll be pleased.’

‘A journalist? Me?’ He was briefly taken aback by the fierceness of her outrage, but his face remained unyielding. ‘My name,’ she said emphatically, ‘is Meryl Winters.’

‘So?’

‘My father was Craddock Winters.’

He still looked blank. ‘Of whom the world says—?’

‘He drilled a few oil wells.’

‘And that made him rich enough for his daughter to act like a headless chicken?’

‘Yes!’

‘All right, we’ll assume that I believe you. I’m not saying I do, but let’s pretend. Why find a husband this way? I’d have thought the world was full of fortune-hunters without having to advertise your desperation. And you don’t look too bad.’

Meryl stared at him, almost beyond speech. ‘Not too bad?’

‘OK, you’re passable—for a man whose taste runs to brunettes. Mine doesn’t, and even if it did you’re the last woman I’d want.’

She breathed hard. ‘I was not proposing a love match—’

‘Luckily for both of us—’

‘It’s a serious business proposition.’

Jarvis Larne snorted. ‘And I’m Santa Claus.’

‘I said business and I meant business. Nothing else would persuade me even to consider marriage to a man who has all the charm of a scrubbing brush. Unfortunately I need you almost as much as you appear to need me—’

‘I do not need you, madam!’

‘Let me finish. Under my father’s will I don’t get full control of my money until I’m twenty-seven, which is nearly three years away. Unless I marry. Then I get it on my wedding day. But until then I’m stuck.’

‘Sounds like somebody knew you pretty well,’ Jarvis Larne said grimly. ‘If you were my daughter I’d make you wait until you were fifty, and even then I doubt you’d have learned common sense.’

‘Now look—’

‘You look. You’ve got cuckoos in your head. So you got an answer to this stupid ad. You couldn’t telephone? Or find a way to check up? Oh no! You jump on the first plane and come to a place you know nothing about, to throw yourself into the arms of a man you also know nothing about.’

‘I had no intention of throwing myself into your arms or anyone else’s,’ Meryl said, speaking with difficulty. ‘What is on offer is my cash in return for the use of your name. Just that. No extras, because you don’t appeal to me—’

‘Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t shoot myself—’

‘As for knowing nothing about you—I thought I did know something. The man who wrote this letter is charming, which rules you out, I see that now.’

‘Nobody has ever called me charming,’ he agreed. ‘It’s been very useful in keeping me safe from silly women.’

She regarded him with her head tilted. ‘You wouldn’t find my dowry silly. It would mend the holes in this place. Do you have any other way of mending them?’

‘That does not concern you,’ he said in a dangerous voice.

Meryl didn’t answer at once. It was typical of her that, at the height of the row, her temper faded and she began to see that this had a funny side.

‘Please don’t be nervous,’ she told him sweetly. ‘I promise you I have no designs on your virtue.’

That infuriated him, she was glad to note. ‘Don’t push me too far, madam.’

‘Let’s get to the bottom line. I need your name; you need my money.’

‘What I need is your absence,’ he retorted through gritted teeth. ‘Preferably at once, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’

‘And then I’m supposed to leave? How? In my drowned car?’

‘We’ll find it when the tide’s out.’ He became suddenly very interested in the contents of his desk.

‘When I’ve got it back I’ll decide what to do. And would you please have the decency to look at me while I’m talking to you?’

‘It’s for the sake of decency that I’m not looking at you,’ he growled, keeping his gaze averted.

Glancing down, she saw that the belt had become untied, and the bathrobe had sagged open, so that her nakedness was completely revealed. She was briefly too nonplussed to move, and in that moment Jarvis, thinking it safe, turned his gaze back to her. He looked away again almost at once, but in the split second she met his eyes she saw a flash of reaction. Meryl hastily retied the belt, feeling dizzy.

So he thought she was only passable, did he? She knew differently now.

He began talking, still with his face averted.

‘It serves you right for acting without thinking,’ he said unsympathetically. ‘The sooner this nonsense is over, the better.’

‘It’s all right, you can look now.’

He did so. ‘Hannah will see you to your room, and take you up some supper.’