It Happened in Sydney: In the Australian Billionaire's Arms / Three Times A Bridesmaid... / Expecting Miracle Twins

He reached for her hand. “If you marry me I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy. That, I swear.”

It was an enormously touching moment. Would it be so terrible to marry Marcus?

Give yourself time to think. Marcus Wainwright is a good man. How many of them are about?

Days passed. She was kept very busy in the shop. She had an assistant, a single mother with two children, aged seven and nine, who did part-time work that fitted in with her mothering schedule. Penny had received some training in a suburban flower shop. She was very good with the customers, efficient at what she did and if she lacked a certain imagination it didn’t matter all that much to Sonya, who could always do a bit of tweaking. As a single mother Penny needed the work. Sonya had been happy to give it to her.

Midweek Marcus took her out to dinner in one of those restaurants where the price list would give the average person a heart attack. And that didn’t include the hefty tip. Marcus looked very handsome in his professorial fashion, his face radiating his pleasure and pride in her company.

His high spirits would have been apparent to all who gave him a little friendly wave as they passed, or those who bent closer over the table to make a comment, most probably acid.

The longer this goes on, the harder it gets. For you and him. You owe him an answer. You have to make up your mind what it’s going to be.

The whole situation, so jubilant to Marcus, was weighing heavily on her mind.

The entrée, a selection of teeny morsels, delicious enough, but served in what was nearly a platter. It seemed to her ridiculously pretentious. She reached for her wine glass, noticing at that moment the maître d’ showing a tall, stunningly handsome man and his extremely pretty companion to a table. Her decision was made for her.

It has to be a no. Of course it has to be a no. Married to a man you do not love with the prospect of seeing the man you’re so powerfully drawn to on every family occasion. Sheer madness!

“Good Lord, it’s David!” Marcus was saying delightedly as he stood up to attract his nephew’s attention. “David!” he called. “He has Emma Courtney with him, Sonya. Lovely girl, Emma. She’s nuts about him, as the saying goes. I should know. I’m nuts about you.” He laughed, colour in his lean cheeks. “I’ll introduce you.”

It was the very last thing Sonya wanted. She sat back, desperate to achieve some semblance of calm.

David Wainwright will marry a young woman much like the one he’s out with tonight.

Get that through your head.

His hand at Emma’s elbow, Holt led the way to his uncle’s table. The shock of seeing her again was as painful, as piercing as an arrow shot straight to the heart.

You fool!

His warning voice kicked in, determined on giving him hell. She was wearing the standard little black dress but her radiant beauty and her colouring made the dress look as if it were worth every last cent of a million dollars. Marcus was beaming with pride. It was obvious he would do anything for her. Lay down his life if need be. Not only was she far and away the most beautiful woman in the room, she was highly intelligent. If she was after position and security, a half-share of Marcus’s money, it was as good as in her hand. From a florist shop to chatelaine of one of the most beautiful houses in a city full of beautiful houses. Money beyond her wildest dreams would be at her disposal. For all he knew the wedding date had already been set.

He had to bring all his concentration to bear just on saying hello.

Marcus gripped his shoulder. “What a surprise to see you, David. How are you, Emma? You look lovely as usual.” Marcus moved a pace to kiss Emma’s cheek. She was a true redhead with lovely bright blue eyes.

“Sonya.” Holt acknowledged her with a slight bow. She gave him a cool smile.

Still playing the aristocrat for all she was worth. It was a sterling performance. He had to give her that. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Emma Courtney. Emma, Sonya Erickson.” He made the introduction.

Emma rated a real smile. It lit up Sonya’s beautiful face like the sun sparkling off ice. “Nice to meet you, Emma.”

“You too, Sonya. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Emma was looking at Sonya with open admiration.

“I take it David is the one giving the information?” Sonya kept the smile on her face.

“All good things.” Emma gave a tiny triangular smile. It could have meant she’d had a few words with others, like Paula Rowlands, whom she no doubt knew.

A pleasantry or two more and they moved off. Emma glanced back and gave a little friendly wave.

“Lovely girl!” Marcus enthused, sitting down again. “I’m so glad David isn’t serious about Paula. You have to be careful with those Rowlands women. Though I have to say Paula can be extremely nice when the mood takes her. Emma had better look out. Paula has always been wildly jealous of anyone who even looked sideways at David.”

Tell me about it.

“Then she has a battle on her hands. Every woman in the room looked up the moment he walked in.”

“You too?” Marcus shot her a quick intent look.

“Why not? I was enjoying it,” she lied. “I had my own entry tracked.”

“You’ll have to get used to it, dearest girl.” He relaxed. “It might be a nice idea to meet up with them after dinner. Go on somewhere. What do you think?”

No way could she handle that. “No nightclubs, Marcus,” she said, pretending a modicum of regret. “I should be a good girl and go home. Early start at the markets tomorrow.”

“Of course, my dear.” His hand covered hers across the table. “Though I hope you’ll find the time to pop into the house with me for ten minutes. I have something to show you. Jensen will drive you home, of course.”

“Ten minutes, Marcus. No more.”

“Splendid!” He raised his glass to her.

Whatever Marcus had in mind she thought she could deal with it.

Her arrangements, she noticed with satisfaction, were still amazingly fresh. There was such a glow about Marcus. Unusual colour in his cheeks. For a very dignified, contained man, it was only too clear he was excited. Indeed he had come alive with exhilaration. He was a great collector. Perhaps he had acquired a new painting. Possibly for her? He knew she was passionate about good art.

“Sit down, my dear,” he invited, pulling out an armchair covered in blue silk damask. “I had the most wonderful dream the other night. I dreamt you said yes to my proposal of marriage. Next day I went out and bought this.” Slowly he withdrew from his inner breast pocket a small jewellery box. “Wasn’t it Freud who said we should place great faith in our powerful dreams?” he asked, not waiting for her answer. “Sonya, dearest girl, I want you to wear this as a token of my everlasting love. Give me your hand, my dear. I’m sure it will be a perfect fit.”

Was there any tactful way of offering a rebuff? No, was the short answer. Only for the life of her she couldn’t seem to utter a word. Her mouth and throat had gone so dry she wanted to leap up to go and find a glass of water.

“There!” Marcus said with great satisfaction. “What did I tell you? Perfect. Don’t you think so?”

Sonya was astounded. The diamonds were like chunks of Arctic ice. She stood up, feeling as though her heart had left her chest. “Marcus, is this what I think it is?”

“My dearest girl, you know it’s an engagement ring,” he said with loving indulgence. “I’m very serious about wanting to marry you. If I hesitate some other lucky man will sweep you up. I can’t have that. You are my great chance at happiness.”

Suddenly she wasn’t at all sure he could withstand the shock of an abrupt refusal. He was so happy, even if he had rather jumped the gun. But then he would have lived a life when he could have just about anything he ever wanted.

“Were diamonds a mistake?” he asked, seeing her confusion. “You will have the emeralds, my dear,” he assured her. “But I thought diamond for the ring. They’re the finest money can buy.”

Distress flashed into her green eyes. “No, diamonds aren’t the mistake, Marcus,” she said slowly, reasoning she had best get this over with. “It’s—” She broke off in horror as Marcus bent over, clutching his chest. “Marcus, what is it?” She flew up from her chair, to put her arms around him. She held him tight. “You’re in pain.”

“Nothing, nothing.” Marcus tried to shrug off whatever ailed him. Only the high colour in his cheeks had turned to grey.

Sonya made her decision. “I’m going to call the ambulance. We need to get you to a hospital.”

Marcus wasn’t having that. “No, no, Sonya. I forbid it,” he gasped. “A bit of chest pain. Not severe. Most probably heartburn. I don’t normally eat dessert. It was too rich.”

She wasn’t convinced. “It’s important you be checked out as soon as possible,” she insisted, truly panicked and afraid for him. “Every moment counts. Let me call the ambulance.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “I’m feeling better already. I have a touch of anaemia, you know. Not enough iron.”

“What about your doctor?” she persisted, not liking this one bit. “I could ring him. It’s not late. I can’t leave it like this, Marcus. Are you on any medication? I’ll get you a glass of water.”

By sheer will power Marcus pulled himself together. He sank back on the sofa. “You could try David. It’s only discomfort, dear. Don’t please panic. It’s not a suspected heart attack, if that’s what’s worrying you. I know the symptoms. It’s all the excitement, I suppose.”

Please, God, let that be so!

Sonya ran to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of water. “What’s David’s number?” she asked when she returned. Swiftly she unknotted Marcus’s tie, then the top button of his shirt. Next she put the glass into his hand. “Medication?”

“I’m fine, Sonya,” he insisted. “Please don’t fuss, my dear.” Marcus blew out his cheeks.

“I’ll get David.” Sonya ran to the landline in the kitchen and rang the number. Fear was pouring into her. She didn’t like the look of Marcus, no matter what he said. She should be ringing the ambulance whether he forbade it or not. David would most probably still be with Emma.

He answered on the fourth ring. “It’s Sonya,” she said, not trying to control her anxiety. “I’m at the house with Marcus. He’s taken a sick turn. He won’t let me ring the ambulance. He forbids it. He wants you. I’m going to ring his doctor.”

“Leave that to me,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll be there in under ten minutes. I’m not far away.”

When Sonya returned to the drawing room Marcus was still on the sofa, his torso slumped back, his right leg extended.

“Sit up straight, Marcus,” Sonya advised, going to him. “David is coming. He’s going to ring your doctor. They’ll be here shortly.” She held his hand within her own. “I love you, Marcus,” she found herself saying. “You’re a lovely man.”

They were still sitting, holding hands, when David strode in, followed by the doctor. David stood over them, his expression grave. The doctor went straight to his patient. He made a quick check. “I’m getting you to hospital, old man. Just to be sure.”

“I don’t want to go, Bart,” Marcus insisted. “I want to sit here with Sonya for ever.”

“Trust me, Marcus,” the doctor said. “You’re better off in hospital. David has already called the ambulance. If I’m not mistaken it’s turning into the drive.”

“We’ll follow in my car,” David said, watching Sonya gently withdraw her hand from his uncle’s. On the fourth finger of her left hand was a magnificent diamond engagement ring, a spectacular central stone flanked by dazzling smaller stones.

Acute anxiety for his uncle was overlaid by a bitter torrent of anger. He could hardly bear to look at her. There was the proof. She’d snagged Marcus hook, line and sinker.

“What are you all thinking of?” Marcus was trying hard to smile. “I’ll be as right as rain in another half-hour.”

“You’ve not been looking after yourself as well as you should have, Marcus,” Bart Abbott said. “You’ll have to spend the night. I want to run a few tests.”

CHAPTER SIX

THEY were only granted a few minutes alone with Marcus before he was whisked away. Sonya was greatly heartened by the fact he looked a little better and he was safely in hospital where he belonged.

David completely ignored her.

“I can get a cab,” she said, when they were out in the night air.

“You’ll get mugged wearing that ring,” he said curtly. “Come with me.” He took hold of her arm.

The contempt in his voice made her blood boil. “Take your hand off me, David,” she ordered.

He brought them both to an abrupt halt. “Don’t start here. Don’t start now,” he warned. “I’m taking you home. I have no choice. I never leave a woman on her own at night. Besides, Marcus would confidently expect it of me to see you home. I need to do everything in my power to keep his fiancée safe.”

“No fiancée,” she flashed back.

“I would think that damned great ring is a sure sign of an engagement,” he challenged harshly. “Once we’re in the car I can take another look. Perhaps it’s the grandest friendship ring of all time.”

“Maybe it was meant that way.” She was angry enough to say anything.

He hit the remote, unlocking his car. “Get in.”

It was useless to protest. He meant business. “Aren’t you interested in hearing my side of the story?” she asked as she tried to buckle her seat belt, all fingers and thumbs with nerves.

With a muffled exclamation he did it for her, then he started the engine, turning a taut profile. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked with severity.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorted, refusing to give him the psychological advantage. “You’re all churned up and it isn’t only Marcus’s sick turn, upsetting as it is. It’s the ring that’s bugging you. So does he have a heart condition or what?”

He didn’t answer until they were out onto the road. “Not that I know of,” he said tersely. “Bart is right. Marcus hasn’t looked after himself in years. We all thought he was committing a form of slow suicide after Lucy died. I know he’s had to have a course of B12 injections. Iron. Ah, what the hell? The sick turn is bound to have happened because he’s worked himself into a lather over you.”

“That’s right, blame me. It’s not unexpected like Marcus giving me the ring was. You need a scapegoat. He’s only fifty-five, isn’t he?” she challenged angrily. “He isn’t seventy or eighty!”

He threw her a scathing glance. “I ask you. Would seventy or eighty have been too much mileage on the clock for you? What about ninety? Would you have said yes, then?”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I haven’t said yes now. I really don’t appreciate being insulted. Marcus asked me in for a few minutes. We went into the drawing room. I sat down. Next thing, Marcus reached into his pocket, and before I could manage a word he’s shoving a ring on my finger.”

He made a sound of utter disbelief. “That must have shocked you out of your mind, Sonya darling.”

The darling was a dark insult, but her heart gave a crazy jolt. “This is no time for us to fight, surely? I’m very fond of Marcus. He’s a good, kind man, but I didn’t ask him to fall in love with me. It took me a while to even see it coming.”

“But you did see eventually, Sonya,” he jeered. “You knew you had him in the palm of your hand. Now you’ve got the pay-off.”

She was so angry she felt like jumping out of the car. “Here, have it!” she cried tempestuously as she wrenched off the ring. “It weighs a ton. You have it. It’ll be a lot safer with you.” She put it into the glovebox.

His smile was one of outright mockery. “You’re lost to the stage, Sonya. But tell me, is there any history of psychotic behaviour in your family? You have to have one, even if they’re tucked well out of sight.”

“Oh, I’ve got one all right,” she answered through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t know about the sort of people I’ve had to live with, David Wainwright with your life of privilege, loved and admired on all sides. You wouldn’t know much about the kind of relatives I have.”

“Professional con artists, I suspect,” he said when it was cruel. “A crime family, maybe? Some in prison?”

“Why don’t you just drive?”

She had the door of the Mercedes open before he had come to a complete stop.

“That was stupid,” he reprimanded her, getting out. “I’ll see you to your door.”

“You stay here.” Her hostility was in plain sight. “I’m in shock.”

“Me too. But while Marcus is out of commission, I’m responsible for the safety of his fiancée,” he said with suave contempt.

She threw up her shining head. “What part of ‘I’m in shock’ don’t you understand?”

“Let’s go up,” he said, moving purposefully towards her.

Had she resisted, she wouldn’t have been in the least surprised had he thrown her over his shoulder.

A couple from the first floor was waiting for the lift. Good evenings were exchanged. The young woman could scarcely drag her eyes off Holt. Her partner was so busy staring at Sonya when the lift stopped at their floor he forgot to get out. His girlfriend gave him a sharp reminder.

“I don’t think I’ll lose my way if I walk myself to my door,” Sonya said with heavy sarcasm. The lift had stopped at her floor. The door opened.

He held the diamond ring in his hand. He was staring down at it. “I can’t keep this. It was given to you.”

“Okay, I have to give it back!” Sonya’s voice was a blend of anguish and anger. “I’m not making excuses for myself, David, but really Marcus presumed a great deal.”

“Oh, wake up!” he exhorted her. “You knew what you were getting into.” He took hold of her arm, walking her down the quiet corridor. “Give me the key.”

“I won’t let you in if it’s the last thing I do,” she said with vehemence.

“What are you frightened of?” His reply held a taunt.

“What are you frightened of?” She stared up into his fathomless dark eyes.

“Ruining everything for everybody, maybe,” he said bleakly.

It shocked her. She stood back as he opened the door.

He pulled her in, shutting them into the quiet of the apartment. The fragrance she was wearing was swirling about in the air between them. It might have had the power of a drug. “Then there’s this! “ He was caught up by an unstoppable surge. It had him pressing her slender body back against the closed door.

“Oh, yes, there’s this!” Colour lit her flawless white skin. The tension between them was palpable, electric. Once again they were in a dangerous place, the shadowy turbulence growing greater.

“I’m waiting for you to stop me,” he challenged. Adrenalin was flooding his veins. He manoeuvred his body ever closer to hers, the softness of a woman, the hard musculature of a man.

She turned her head from side to side, straining to keep some measure of control over the situation. “Even if I screamed it wouldn’t stop you.”

“Not that you’re about to scream,” he taunted, lifting his arms to position them on both sides of her blonde head. “You’re pinned in, Sonya.” She was staring up at him with her beautiful mesmeric eyes. “How long have I known you?” he asked, astonished by how little time had passed.

“Maybe you knew me in another life?” Her voice dropped low.

Another trick? Her voice was magic, the little foreign accent, the wide range of intonations, the pitch. That was the trouble with powerful attraction. The alarming way it took control.

“Strangely enough, I believe it.” He cupped the globe of her small breast in his hand. Then with a muffled exclamation he bent his head and crushed her captive silken mouth….

Sparks lit into a conflagration. Sensation was boundless; a wild clamouring in the blood that beat up waves of heat. It was as if every single light, every appliance in the apartment were turned on and burning, sucking in all the air. She gave a little moan, thinking nothing could ever be the same again. Her breasts were throbbing under his urgent caressing hands, the nipples gone cherry-hard when she felt her flesh were actually dissolving …

If the ringing phone had not penetrated the thickly meshed web they were caught into, he didn’t know what would have happened. One minute they were mindlessly devouring each other, the next they were forced to break apart, breathless and trembling, trying to make the adjustment to the real world.

“That’s the phone,” she said, now humiliated by her headlong response to him.

He laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. “Don’t answer it.”

“I should.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. Her legs were so weak it was an effort to reach the kitchen. When she picked up the receiver, she heard a woman’s familiar voice, speaking with urgency.

“Sonya, it’s Rowena. Would David be with you? I’ve had a call from the hospital. Marcus has been admitted.”

“Then you know he had a sick turn, Lady Palmerston,” Sonya said. “He gave us such a fright. I’ll put David on. He brought me home.”

“Thank you, dear.”

She held out the phone to David. He took it, catching her around the waist and locking her into his grip. She freed herself none the less, moving away to allow him to speak in private. For years she had known the desperation of flight. Of always being on the run from those who would do her harm. She had never known the desperation of passion. He had felt it as much as she.

It was quiet on the balcony. She had filled it with a luxuriant array of plants in large pots; flowering baskets she had attached to the brick wall. She stood in the night air, tears gathering in her eyes. She had long regarded crying as an intolerable indulgence. It had never helped her. Now she found herself on the verge of tears. For years she had told herself she wasn’t scared of anything. But she was scared. She was scared of the depth of feeling she had for David Wainwright. She knew nothing would come of the violent attraction they felt for each other. It could only end badly. She was very worried about Marcus as well. Worried about what she would have to tell him. But when? For ghastly moments earlier that night she’d thought Marcus was about to suffer a heart attack. As it was, they wouldn’t know the results of his tests for days.

You’re in over your head, girl.

She had to give Marcus his ring back. There was faint conciliation in the thought Marcus should not have taken her acceptance as a given. But then the rich were different from everyone else. She put up a hand to pull the pins from her coiled hair. That done, she pressed her hands to her face. Sometimes life was merciless. She didn’t love Marcus. Not in any romantic way. She did love David. In every way possible. Only it was Marcus who had given her the ring. Marcus who wanted to marry her. David didn’t. He wanted nothing from her. But sex.

She still had her eyes closed when David came behind her, pulling her hands from her face. “You’re crying.” He flicked a salty tear off her cheek with his finger, placing it on his tongue. The cloud of erotica surrounding them was dense.

“It isn’t with happiness,” she said, turning to confront him. “What are we doing, David? I can see no way out of this short of disappearing.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done before?”

His glittering eyes and his tone made her nerves jangle. “God, I hate you,” she muttered.

“Just like I hate you,” he returned in an openly self-mocking voice. “Isn’t it better to hate me than love me if you’re going to marry Marcus?”

“That will be my decision.” Let him believe what he wanted to believe. It was a certain protection. “What is love really?” she asked.