Bride For A Year

His eyes moved gently over her pale skin, the soft, vulnerable curve of her lips. ‘I’ve known you since you were thirteen years of age, Paige Jackson, and I know every expression that flits across that beautiful face almost better than I know my own reflection in the mirror. I know you are hurting now...and I want you to believe that I want to make things better for you.’ He touched her face, raising it so she was forced to look up at him. ‘I want to kiss those trembling lips and hold you and tell you that you are never going to have to worry about anything again.’

She bit down on her lip. The strange thing was that despite everything she had been telling him she wanted him to kiss her, to hold her. She was so bewildered by the range of emotions inside her that she didn’t know what to think any more.

His thumb brushed the softness of her skin. ‘I’m sorry I said the things I did about your father, about him being weak. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘No, you shouldn’t have.’ Her eyes ached suddenly with the effort not to cry.

‘I want you to believe me when I say I always liked your father, Paige. I certainly wasn’t out to ruin him.’

Paige didn’t answer; her heart was beating so fiercely against her chest that she felt sure he would be able to hear it. His closeness was making all sorts of strange emotions surface with an intensity she couldn’t stem.

‘We won’t talk about the past again, all right?’ He lowered his voice to a gentle, persuasive tone. ‘The future is all that matters now. Let’s go out for lunch and discuss it together in a positive manner.’

Paige frowned. What was her future? Leaving everything and everyone she had ever known and loved, and that included Brad Monroe, starting again in a strange town? But if she stayed and married Brad, how would she feel in a year’s time when the marriage was over? She would have her home back, but would she really be able to pick up the pieces of her life, forget that she had shared a year with Brad, forget that she had shared his bed and act as if nothing had happened? She didn’t think she was capable of that, but then going away seemed an equally harsh solution.

‘Say you’ll marry me, Paige, and I’ll look after you.’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ she said fiercely. ‘I can look after myself.’

‘OK. say yes and we’ll work out the details later.’ He grinned at her. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

The sweetness of his lips against hers sent a shock of pleasure spinning deep inside her. She made no attempt to pull away from him; instead, some deeper, stronger instinct seemed to take over and she found herself reaching out, resting her hands against the warmth of his chest. He smelled wonderful—of expensive soap. She could feel the heat of him emanating through her, warming the coldness that had gripped her since her father’s death. She closed her eyes and found that she wanted to lean against him weakly, that she wanted just to give in and say, Let’s give it a go.

When he pulled back from her she looked up at him, feeling totally dazed. ‘Can you hear ringing?’ she murmured, feeling disorientated.

He smiled. ‘I think you’ll find it’s your phone.’

‘Oh!’ She stepped back from him. He sounded so...together, unaffected, and she felt so totally opposite to that, it was embarrassing. With difficulty she gathered herself together and crossed to pick up the phone.

‘Paige? It’s Ron Harrison here, Brad’s estate manager. Sorry to disturb you, but is he there?’

‘Yes...yes, he is.’ Paige held out the phone to Brad. ‘It’s for you.’

The slightest touch of his fingers against hers made her pulses start to quicken again.

‘Yes?’ His voice was brisk. Then he glanced at his watch. ‘OK; no, it doesn’t matter. I’ll come back and deal with it right away.’ His tone was businesslike.

He put the receiver down and turned to look at her. ‘I’m sorry, Paige, I’ll have to skip lunch. Problems at the vineyard.’

‘That’s OK.’ Paige shrugged and felt compelled to try to restore her protective barriers against him. ‘I wasn’t going to have lunch with you anyway.’

He smiled as if he didn’t believe that for a moment, as if he knew dam well he had got under her skin with that kiss. ‘We’ll have dinner instead,’ he asserted. ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, seven-thirty.’

‘I don’t think so, Brad.’ She sounded as emotionally torn as she felt.

He grinned. ‘I won’t be late, so make sure you are ready on time.’ Then he swung out of the house. Paige watched him strolling towards the car, confident, very self-assured.

Her heart was thumping as if she had been running a race. She was still in love with Brad Monroe; the truth was very stark, very obvious in that moment and she hated herself for it.

This was the man who had betrayed her father, she told herself, but hidden behind the feelings of guilt and disloyalty to her father’s memory there was a longing so deep, so intense, she couldn’t suppress it.

CHAPTER THREE

THE scent of roses met Paige as she pushed open her front door. They were in a glass vase on the hall table, the tight buds of that morning now unfurled to heavy, nodding flowers in full glory. She leaned closer and breathed in their perfume, wondering how Brad had found a florist that stocked old-fashioned flowers that still had a scent.

She kicked off her shoes and sighed. She had spent a dreadful afternoon walking around her property with the real-estate people, cataloguing everything from the huge vats in the warehouses to the riding tackle in the now empty stables.

Everything was listed ready for the brochure and a date was set for the auction. She wrote the date in her diary on the hall table now in an attempt to trivialise it along with a few coffee mornings she already had planned with Rosie for that week. But it didn’t feel unimportant. It felt as if she was writing down the date for the end of her world.

The knowledge that she didn’t need to go through with the sale was reinforced by the scent of the roses that Brad had sent her this morning. There had been a card with them, reminding her that he was picking her up for dinner tonight. As if she could have forgotten! Even so, she had kidded herself all day that she wasn’t going to go, that she wasn’t going to consider his proposal—hence the real-estate people and the practical way she had been dealing with things.

Her eyes moved from the roses to the grandfather clock.

It was six o’ clock. If she was going to have dinner with Brad, then she should go straight upstairs and start to get ready.

She thought about it for just a second then headed for the stairs. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to listen to what Brad had to say, she told herself fiercely.

She showered and styled her hair in record time, then spent ages trying to decide what to wear. She didn’t want to look as if she had taken any extra trouble with her appearance, but on the other hand she wanted to look good.

She settled on a white trouser suit and a blue silk blouse. Then surveyed her appearance critically. The outfit complemented her dark colouring, the slender curves of her figure. She would do, she decided. It didn’t really matter what she looked like.

The sound of Brad’s car pulling up outside made her calm resolve start to falter.

She watched him walking up to the front door from her bedroom window. He looked extremely sophisticated in a classically cut, dark suit. The clothes emphasised the breadth of his shoulders, the darkness of his hair.

She heard the ring of the doorbell, but waited a few minutes. She wasn’t going to hurry to let him in... She didn’t want to appear too keen.

She took her time going down to the front door, but as soon as she opened it and he smiled warmly at her all her cool thoughts were forgotten.

‘You look wonderful,’ he said, his eyes moving in a leisurely perusal of her appearance.

‘Thank you. And thanks for the roses,’ she added.

‘My pleasure.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we go? I’ve booked a table at Henry’s for eight.’

She tried not to feel impressed by the fact that he was taking her to one of the best restaurants in the area. She nodded. ‘I’ll just get my bag.’

Surprisingly, Paige felt very relaxed with Brad throughout the meal. The food and the service were excellent and Brad was attentive and amusing. Not once during the main meal did the conversation touch too heavily on personal ground.

‘Would you like a dessert and coffee?’ Brad asked as he leaned across to refill her wineglass.

‘Just a coffee, thanks.’ Paige turned from her contemplation of the restaurant to find he was regarding her steadily. The intentness of his gaze flustered her.

‘I’m glad you changed your mind about having dinner with me tonight,’ he said softly.

‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ Paige said truthfully. Then, in case he got the wrong idea, she added hastily, ‘This is one of my favourite restaurants but it’s ages since I’ve been here. You have to reserve a table so far in advance that it tends to be a place just for special occasions.’

‘I hope this is a special occasion,’ Brad said, his eyes lingering on the soft curve of her lips.