The Marriage Proposition

The food was delicious—pumpkin soup followed by red snapper, and a spicy chicken dish served with fragrant rice, all of it accompanied by vintage wines. Dessert was slices of fresh pineapple marinated in liqueur, and a wonderful home-made coconut ice cream.

Brad was an attentive host, keeping the conversation general and light-hearted, and, to Paige’s relief, making no further comment about her imminent departure.

Now that the pressure was off, it was turning into a really enjoyable evening, she decided, as coffee and brandy were served.

The band was playing something soft and dreamy, and Jack and Angie got up to dance. Paige watched them slowly circling the floor in each other’s arms, Jack smiling adoringly into his wife’s eyes and Angie lifting her hand to stroke his cheek.

They’ve got it right, Paige thought, suppressing a pang of envy so fierce it was almost painful.

‘Shall we join them?’

Paige started. Brad was watching her enquiringly, his brow slightly furrowed.

She sent him a bright smile. ‘Why not?’

He was a good dancer, holding her lightly and not too closely. As they moved he exchanged greetings with the people at the tables they passed, or acknowledged someone’s presence with a smile and a nod.

‘You’re good at this,’ she told him.

His grin was rueful. ‘I’m in business, and the rich can be touchy. You can’t afford to ignore anyone. And when someone like Froyat hits town you’ve no idea who might be travelling with him, so it can be perilous.’

‘I bet.’ She was smiling as she glanced towards the big table he was indicating. A sea of faces, all animated, chattering to their neighbours. All relaxed and having a good time.

All, that was, except one. A dark face, cool and sardonic, swam out of the crowd. A man who wasn’t talking to anyone around him, who was even momentarily oblivious to the young and pretty blonde who was draped across him, her arm round his neck. A man who was staring right at her, his eyes narrowed and appraising.

The smile froze on her lips. She felt the breath catch in her throat, the sudden grim thud of her astonished heart against her ribcage.

No, she thought desperately. It can’t be. It can’t …

‘Are you all right?’ Brad’s voice was concerned.

‘Yes.’ Her voice was hoarse, unlike her own. ‘I mean—no. At least …’ She paused. ‘Do you think we could sit down, please?’

‘Of course.’ His arm went round her, supporting her, and she was grateful for it as they made their way off the floor. Because her legs were shaking under her.

‘Can I get you something?’ Brad put her gently into her chair. ‘What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

No ghost, she thought. But someone only too real, who was, by some terrible mischance, right here on St Antoine.

She said quickly, ‘I think it’s the weather.’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘It’s got so oppressive suddenly.’

She sipped the glass of iced water he poured for her, and assured him that the slight faintness was passing. That she’d be fine if she could just sit quietly for a few minutes. And that she’d really prefer to be on her own.

‘There must be people you should be talking to,’ she urged. ‘Go and do your social thing while I pull myself together. I feel such a fool …’

‘I’d rather not leave you.’

‘Then you’ll make me feel worse than ever. Please, Brad. I might even go for a quick stroll along the beach—clear my head properly,’ she added with determined brightness.

Or I might run away and never be found again …

‘Are you sure you’d rather be alone?’ He was doubtful—reluctant.

‘Absolutely. Anyway, Jack and Angie will be back in a minute.’ She smiled at him, willing him to walk away. ‘And when you come back I’ll be fine again. Rarin’ to go, in fact.’

She sounded hyper—like a crazy woman—but it seemed to work. She didn’t watch to see what table Brad was heading for, because she didn’t want to know.

She drank some more water, staring at the flicker of the candle-flame behind the glass. What was that old saying? ‘Speak of the devil and he’s sure to appear.’ Only a few hours ago she and Angie had talked about Nick Destry—and here he was.

Unless her imagination was playing tricks—had conjured him up to torment her. Her mind was spinning—in overdrive. Could it be that? Had the trauma of the past months caught up with her at last?

All she had to do was look up—look across the room—and she would know for certain if he was real or some hobgoblin of fantasy. Only she didn’t dare.

Under cover of the tablecloth, her hands clenched impotently into fists. What the hell was the matter with her? she railed inwardly. Why was she reacting like this? Nick wasn’t a mad axe-murderer, out for blood. He was the man she’d married for business reasons and whom she was planning to divorce as soon as it was legal. This was not a problem. Unless she allowed it to be.

It’s just shock, she told herself. All these months of studiously avoiding each other, and here they were in the same nightclub on the same small Caribbean island. Just one of life’s horrible coincidences.

And her secretly nurtured hope that she might never need to set eyes on him again had always been a non-starter—totally unrealistic.

I should have taken a leaf out of Brad’s book, she thought. Smiled and nodded, as if we were passing acquaintances. Instead I let him see me leave the floor in disarray.

She felt her chest tighten, and got to her feet. She hadn’t been serious about that walk along the beach, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea. And she wasn’t running away, she told herself. Just—regrouping.

Stone steps led down to the sand, bleached silver in the moonlight. Paige paused on the bottom step, slipping off her sandals. The warm night lay on her like a blanket, the palm trees that fringed the crescent of sand unmoving as she walked down to the curling edge of the water. Her breathing was still hurried and shallow. She had to fight to control it. To rein herself in to normality, and acceptance of the fact that fate had played her an unpleasant trick.

Although Nick wouldn’t be too pleased to see her either. He was the one who rubbed shoulders with millionaires. She was the wage slave back in England.

But that had been her own choice, she reminded herself restlessly. He’d offered a generous financial settlement in return for her compliance. She need never have worked again. But she’d refused his money.

All through those bitter days she’d kept repeating to herself like a personal mantra, I want nothing from him. Nothing.

When she’d reluctantly accepted the job at Harrington Holdings she’d done so at a reduced salary. After all, she was no longer living in London with its enormous rents. Her parents had wanted her to move back into the vast family home, as her brother Toby had done with his wife, but instead she’d found a small one-bedroomed cottage in a neighbouring village, feeling that at least a measure of independence was preferable.

And she’d managed to do some freelance magazine work, keeping the door open for her eventual return.

It had been a seriously difficult year in so many ways, she reflected. Quite apart from her personal wretchedness, her work with the company had been more like damage limitation than public relations. Since Toby had taken over the running of the organisation, following her father’s illness, there had been nothing but problems, it seemed. And as for that stupid girl he’d married …

She stopped right there. She was the last person in the world entitled to sneer at anyone’s choice of marriage partner after the mess she’d made of her own life.

An incoming wave splashed gently round her bare feet and she shivered slightly. But the chill of the water was nothing in comparison to the ice within her.

She felt blank—numb. But she had to think—decide what to say just in case Nick decided not to keep his distance. She supposed he was a passenger on Alain Froyat’s yacht. But he wouldn’t be there simply for enjoyment, in spite of the pretty blonde he’d been wearing as a scarf. Without doubt there was some big finance deal going down. Something that would make the Maitland Destry bank ever more profitable, and send Nick’s personal wealth soaring even higher.

Not that it was any business of hers, she reminded herself tautly. Neither Nick’s financial standing or his latest girlfriend could be allowed to concern her even marginally.

She’d kept her side of the bargain, and now she wanted the whole sorry charade brought to a conclusion.

Closure, she thought, on a marriage that should never have taken place. I must have been out of my mind to lend myself to such a farce.

Her footsteps slowed. It was time she was getting back to the restaurant. She would tell Angie she had a headache and wanted to go back to Les Roches. She certainly didn’t want Brad coming to find her and being carried away by the whisper of the waves, the moonlight falling across the water. He might even think she’d gone out on to the beach to lure him on.

She hadn’t heard him coming, but then he’d always had the ability to move like a cat.

Yet when she turned he was there, just as she’d known—she’d feared—he would be. Blocking her way. Bringing her to a breathless, tingling halt in front of him. With no means of escape.

He said softly, in that mocking drawl she hated, ‘Good evening, Mrs Destry. Or should I say, “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania”?’ And he began to laugh.

CHAPTER TWO

PAIGE stood motionless, hands balled into fists at her sides. Inside she was trembling. On the surface she stared back at him, her chin lifting in unmistakable hostility.

She said coldly, ‘Is quoting nonsense at me the best you can do?’

Nick tutted. ‘Shakespeare is hardly nonsense, darling. And it seemed quite appropriate, in view of what comes next from Titania herself,’ he added reflectively. ‘“Fairies skip hence. I have foresworn his bed and company.”’

She felt hot colour rush into her face, and was glad of the sheltering darkness. She could feel anger starting to build in her. She wanted to scream at him—You dare accuse me of that? You—of all people? But that was a path she could not afford to tread, she thought, taking a deep, calming breath.

She said, ‘What are you doing here, Nick?’

‘What a coincidence,’ he said cordially. ‘I was going to ask you exactly the same question. I hope you’re here to promote Harrington Holdings for the island development programme. I see you’re here tonight with one of the chief movers and shakers,’ he added. ‘Is your relationship with him business or personal?’

‘I don’t think you have the slightest right to ask that.’

‘Ah, but I have,’ Nick said softly. ‘For all kinds of reasons. And the fact that I’m your husband is only the least of them.’ He paused to allow that to sink in. ‘So, please, tell me why you’re here.’

‘As a matter of fact I’m on holiday.’ She controlled her voice with an effort. ‘I presume I’m allowed the occasional break.’

‘And Brad Coulter?’

‘I met him socially. He’s a friend.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘And would it be indiscreet to enquire how long this—friendship has had to ripen?’

Paige said defensively, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m asking when you arrived on this little unspoiled paradise.’

She bit her lip. ‘About three weeks ago.’

He whistled. ‘And all on your salary from Harringtons. Or are you being subsidised—in the name of friendship?’

Paige was startled. Somehow—already—he’d found out that Jack and Angie had offered her cut-price, rock-bottom rates. How the hell had he managed that? she wondered, humiliated. Or was it an educated guess?

She said sharply, ‘And if I am? What concern is it of yours?’

‘You’ll find I’m concerned about a great many things.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘So you’re really not here to drum up trade for the family business?’

‘Harringtons don’t tender for overseas contracts—particularly ones that are halfway round the world. You should know that.’

He said slowly, ‘Well, that’s something they may have to reconsider. Tell me, have you been in touch with the office during this extended vacation of yours? Have any faxes or e-mails come thundering across the ocean at you?’

‘No,’ she said defiantly. ‘And I wouldn’t expect them to—not when this is my first holiday since …’ She hesitated, then said quickly, ‘In over a year.’

‘Since our honeymoon,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that what you were going to say?’

‘Since the trip we were obliged to take after the wedding,’ she said brusquely. ‘Why call it a ridiculous name?’

‘Maybe I’m just a stickler for convention,’ he drawled. There was another pause, then, ‘You really haven’t had any communication with the company?’

‘None at all. I decided I wanted a real vacation.’ Firmly, she put out of her mind the memory of that last row with Toby, and her decision not to let him know where she was while he considered the ultimatum she’d given him.

‘I’d say you’d achieved it. Even down to a little holiday romance.’

‘Thank you,’ she said tautly. ‘You appear to be having a good time yourself.’

‘Ah,’ Nick said softly. ‘But appearances can be deceptive—don’t you find?’

Like you deceived me? she thought. When you made me think—just for a brief moment—one night long ago—that maybe this mismatch between us might work after all. That perhaps it could be more than just a business arrangement …

‘I think,’ she said, ‘that what you see is generally what you get.’ She moved restively, feeling at a disadvantage, standing there barefoot, with her sandals dangling from her hand. ‘Will you excuse me, please? My friends will be wondering where I am. And I’m sure your party will be missing you, too,’ she added pointedly.

‘You’re all consideration.’ He sounded amused, as if her inference wasn’t lost on him. ‘But we really do have things to talk about.’

‘Nothing that can’t wait a few months,’ she said. ‘I’ll get my lawyer to contact yours.’

‘Caribbean holidays and a divorce,’ he said meditatively. ‘You’re going to have an expensive time.’

Suddenly her antennae were alert and sounding an alarm. Because that—almost—sounded like a threat. Didn’t it?

Maybe it was something she needed to find out, she thought, her senses tingling. This confrontation might be galling, but she couldn’t end it quite yet.

She paused, choosing her words carefully. ‘A quick, no-fault ending of our arrangement? With no property settlement or maintenance involved? Surely not.’

‘You don’t count the shattering of hopes and dreams?’ His tone was mocking. ‘The laceration of one’s finest feelings?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘They weren’t included in the deal.’ And if there was any lacerating done, I’m the one left with the scars.

He said slowly, ‘Perhaps I’m looking to renegotiate.’

That insidious trembling had started up again, deep in her gut.

She said quickly and coldly, ‘No chance. The original contract stands, and even that isn’t for much longer. I want out, Nick, so don’t start playing games. I’m not impressed.’

He laughed. ‘Tough talk, honey, but talk is cheap. Are you really prepared for a fight?’

‘That wasn’t part of the arrangement either.’ Her heart was beating fiercely, erratically again. The chain round her throat seemed to be tightening, and she put up a hand and tugged at it mechanically, feeling the delicate links biting into her fingers.

He said laconically, ‘Call it an afterthought.’

She said huskily, ‘Then I recommend you think again.’

His gaze fastened on the nervous movement of her hand. ‘I see,’ he said, ‘that you’ve taken off your wedding ring.’

‘I’m not a hypocrite,’ she said. ‘I won’t—pretend.’

‘No,’ he said, and his voice was suddenly bleak. ‘I’ll grant you that.’

There was a brief uneasy silence, then she said, ‘Nick, there’s no need for this. Our marriage has never existed in any real sense—just on paper. Why make difficulties about ending it?’

He shrugged. ‘Let’s just say I dislike unfinished business.’

She thought wretchedly, How can you finish something that never began …?

Aloud, she said, ‘But you got what you wanted—a seat on the Harrington board.’

‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘Courtesy of that incestuous little family arrangement that should have been legally challenged and wound up years ago.’ There was an odd, almost angry note in his voice.

She said defensively, ‘It’s worked perfectly well, up to now.’

‘Then why did you have to come to me for finance?’ Nick demanded derisively. ‘Because your credit had run out elsewhere, my dear wife, and you know it. Harringtons may have been started by a giant, but there are only pygmies left now.’

She said hotly, ‘How dare you insult my family?’

‘Sometimes the truth hurts, Paige.’ He paused. ‘So does a bad investment.’

She drew a steadying breath. ‘I suggest you take this up with your fellow board members. I’m an employee now, and I really don’t want to discuss it any further. As for our non-marriage—that’s over. And nothing you can say or do will make the slightest difference.’

‘But that’s where you’re wrong,’ Nick said softly. ‘Because I haven’t finished with you, baby. Not by a long chalk. In fact—’ his voice deepened ‘—I haven’t even begun yet.’

They were both standing still, but the space between them seemed to have diminished in some strange way. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The brush of his body against hers.

Paige made a small inarticulate sound in her throat, then she moved, skirting round him, keeping him at arm’s length or more, walking fast, trying not to run.

Trying to maintain a safe distance between them—if there could be such a thing, she thought crazily as she went up the beach, stumbling a little, despising her own clumsiness. Hating him for being its cause.

She didn’t look back, but then she didn’t have to. She could feel his eyes on her back, burning like ice. Branding her.

Except that she was no possession of his—and she never would be.

‘So there you are,’ Brad greeted her jovially. ‘We were just going to send out a search party.’

‘It’s a pretty straight beach,’ Paige returned as lightly as possible. ‘Not many places to get lost.’ Except in some hell of my own making.

‘What’s going on?’ Angie hissed as Paige took her seat beside her. ‘One minute you’re dancing with Brad, the next you’re out beachcombing.’

‘I needed some air,’ Paige whispered back. ‘I’ve got a headache.’

‘What lousy luck.’ Angie was instantly sympathetic. ‘Do you want to call it a day?’

‘It might be better. I have to finish packing, and I’ve got a long flight tomorrow.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Paige saw Nick come up from the beach. For a moment she thought he was going to come over to their table, and tensed, but he walked straight past without giving any of them a glance. And Angie’s attention was fortunately centred on her.

I’m not getting out completely unscathed, Paige thought. But it could be very much worse.

On her way out, a few minutes later, she risked a brief look at Nick’s table to see if her departure had been witnessed, but he appeared to be completely engrossed in his blonde.

Which, Paige told herself vehemently, could only be a relief.

Brad held her hand for a moment longer than necessary as they said goodnight. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he promised, and she smiled and tried to feel interested and grateful.

But it was impossible. Her mind was in turmoil. Jack and Angie chatted quietly to each other in the front of the car, out of consideration for her headache, and she sat alone in the darkness almost obsessively going over and over the scene on the beach. Asking herself what he could possibly have meant and receiving no answer. At least none that satisfied her, or even offered a modicum of comfort.

But then Nick had always been an enigma, she told herself restively.

She wrapped her arms round her body, shivering. She was shaking inside, aware of a feeling of faint nausea. Of disorientation.

Shock, she thought. That was what it was. He was the last person she’d expected—or wanted—to see. And it was one of life’s terrible ironies that they should be on the same small island, in the same nightclub, at the same time.

If they’d spent the evening anywhere else she’d have avoided him, as she’d been doing so successfully all these months. Checking the schedule of his visits to London, or to the company headquarters, and quietly arranging to be elsewhere. Ensuring work took her far away, to the other end of the country, on the infrequent occasions when he was due to stay at the house.

‘You could make more of an effort,’ Toby had grumbled on the last occasion. ‘It means Denise has to entertain him, and he scares her witless.’

That, Paige thought scathingly, mentally reviewing her sister-in-law’s vacant blue eyes and pouting ever-present smile, would not incur a great deal of effort on Nick’s part.

She had said crisply, ‘She’s the wife of the managing director, Toby. It comes with the territory.’

‘But she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Why you’re never around.’

And with very good reason, Paige had supplemented silently. Total discretion had been insisted on from both sides when the original deal was struck. However, it was tacitly acknowledged in the family that Toby’s wife was an airhead who could gossip for Britain. One whisper of the raison d’être for Paige’s unconventional marriage and she would be up and running with the story.

She had said, ‘Well, I’m sure you can come up with some plausible explanation, brother dear. Because there’s no way I’m going to share a roof with Nick just to protect Denise’s sensibilities.’ She’d paused. ‘And Nick would be no more keen to spend time in my company, believe me.’

And she’d spoken no more than the truth. She was sure of it. So why had he sought her out tonight? she asked herself with shaken bewilderment. Implied the things that he had? She’d kept the terms of their agreement meticulously, yet now, with freedom in sight, Nick appeared to be about to chuck a spanner into the works.

Except she wouldn’t allow it to happen. And being a member of the Harrington board wasn’t necessarily a job for life. Anyone could be voted off. And just because that had never happened, no guarantee was offered that it never would. If the company could just find an alternative source of financing, she thought broodingly, Maitland Destry might be history.

Back at Les Roches, she accepted Angie’s concerned offer of paracetamol, and went up to her room.

Most of her packing was actually already done, she thought, looking around her with a critical eye. And what was left could wait until the morning. So she might as well take a shower and get an early night.

She walked over to the dressing table and sat down wearily, pushing back her hair. It was a pale, strained face looking back at her, she realised with a sigh, then tensed, her hand flying to her throat, as she realised her pearl pendant was missing.

She groaned under her breath.

I must have snapped the chain when I was fiddling with it on the beach, she thought, distressed. Something else to hate Nick for.

Sadly, she unhooked the drops from her ears. Pearls were supposed to symbolise tears, weren’t they? she thought. Maybe the loss of her necklace was a signal to her not to waste any more time in mourning for the past.

From now on she would look forward, not back. And she’d kickstart the new regime with a good night’s sleep, she told herself, biting her lip.

But that was altogether easier said than done. The air in the room was hot and heavy, defeating even the efforts of the ceiling fan, and Paige found herself tossing and turning, trying to find a cool place on the bed, her gown adhering clammily to her skin.