the pull of attraction that urged her to forget reason, to break out of her caution and give him whatever he wanted. With interest.
‘Five months would be better.’
She gave him the benefit of a determined look down the length of her nose. Not an easy feat when she had to look up at him to do it. When she wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet and agree to anything he suggested, and then some.
His irritation showed in the deepening furrow between the sharp, piercing eyes. ‘Four months.’
Claire ran mental calculations. If everything went okay she should be able to manage it. Provided they didn’t go into extravagant plans that could get too complicated too soon. ‘All right. I’m willing to accept that. Four months it is.’
All she needed now was a little time to pull herself together. To get control of the maddening awareness that arced and jolted through her, that insisted she get closer, despite how stupid that would be. To stop her foolish emotions from trying to do cartwheels of excitement because Nicholas had asked her to marry him. She could rest assured that his emotions hadn’t been anywhere near the building at the time.
He smiled. The cat that had got the cream. ‘We’ll marry on the first Saturday after those four months are up. So you’re even gaining a couple of days on top of your bargain. You should be pleased. You negotiate well.’
‘When I’m falling in with your terms.’ It felt more like a sentence than an agreement. She couldn’t share his pleasure.
‘Something like that,’ he agreed.
From here, she could reach out and touch his jaw if she wanted. Could trace the tanned skin that even this early in the day carried a hint of dark beard stubble. Could ruffle his thick black hair. The knowledge that she did want to do all of those things didn’t help her state of mind.
‘What of your other conditions?’ For a moment heat had darkened his eyes again, but it was masked now. He glanced at the view, then turned back to her. ‘You’ll be well provided for should I drop dead early, if that’s the kind of thing you’re wondering about.’
‘It’s not.’ She drew a steadying breath. This was the tricky part. ‘I’d like to keep our engagement secret, then marry quietly when the four months is up.’
‘Why?’ The warmth melted away as though it had never been.
Because that way there’ll be no fuss when I call it all off.
‘I don’t like fanfare, and my sister…’ In this instance Sophie would prove conveniently useful. ‘Sophie’s out of the country. She and Tom are taking an extended vacation in Europe. After that they plan to visit some of our neighbouring countries, to drum up good feeling for Australia.’
‘Along with good feeling for Senator Tom Cranshaw.’ Nicholas knew of her brother-in-law’s political aspirations. His bland comment was a statement of fact, nothing more. ‘What do they have to do with keeping things secret until our marriage?’
‘My sister is all I have in the way of family. I want to tell her about this face to face.’ I’ll never breathe a word of it to her at all, and I’m sorry for letting you believe otherwise, but I have no choice. ‘It would upset me if she read it in the newspapers, or heard it some other impersonal way.’
‘Why not simply phone her?’ His stark tone left no room for argument. ‘Give her the news, and we can get on with our plans without worrying about secrecy.’
‘Not good enough.’ She injected an equal measure of determination into her answer. ‘It has to be face to face. That’s it.’
After what seemed interminable minutes, but was probably only seconds, he spoke. ‘How long will she be gone?’
‘As of today?’ The section of Claire’s brain labelled Calendar materialised on the insides of her eyelids. ‘Three and a half months.’ Two weeks after the final blackmail payment had to be made. Given Claire’s predicament, the time-frame was convenient. ‘I want my sister at my wedding. I don’t want to marry until after she gets back, and I’m determined to tell her my news in person.’
‘All right. We keep things quiet. But the moment your sister returns to Australia you tell her, and we go ahead with our small, discreet wedding on the date we’ve agreed.’ He didn’t seem particularly pleased, but nor did he seem aggravated beyond measure. ‘In the end it makes little difference how we go about it, I suppose, as long as the marriage goes ahead.’
‘Good. Thank you.’ Claire let out a single, shuddering breath. She was a long way from being out of the woods, but she could handle this. Once her nerves stopped jumping and the panic subsided and she could use her lungs properly again….
It was doable. Wasn’t it?
‘We’ll sign the Notice of Intended Marriage and other necessary papers today.’ Nicholas gestured for Claire to return to the desk.
Maybe if she were seated again he would be able to ignore the way the navy skirt and soft cream blouse clung lovingly to every curve and indent of her shapely figure. Then again—his gaze skimmed over her once more—maybe not.
The sooner he had this matter signed and sealed, the better. He didn’t like loose ends, and wanting Claire Dalgliesh had definitely turned into a loose end since he had decided he would like her as his marriage partner. At times it was all he could do to banish thoughts of her from his mind.
‘You really were sure of me, weren’t you?’ Her husky voice slid through his senses, causing a tightening in his gut, a tautening of muscles as his body reacted to that unconscious sexiness.
From the top of her deep gold hair to the toes of her slender, tanned feet she exuded her own brand of sensual appeal—the more effective because it appeared to be completely unconscious. Her brown eyes held untapped secrets that called a challenge to him.
He wanted to see her in the heat of passion, to see what those rich orbs would reflect then. Desire? Lust? The thought of her nails raking his back, of her moaning his name slid through his mind, and he drew a sharp, controlling breath.
‘Sure of you?’ Maybe. ‘What I’m sure of, Claire, is that this is right.’
Something deep down told him that. He convinced himself it was the same instinct that had made him a success and kept him that way in business.
Claire slid into the seat across the desk from him, crossed her long legs, and reached for the documents. Her hands were shaking, he noted. ‘Don’t we need a marriage celebrant or a justice of the peace present for something like this?’
‘We do.’ He pressed a button on his phone system. ‘Would you send the Reverend up, please?’
‘You already had him here? How long…’ She cleared her throat as she flicked through the prepared sheets. ‘How long does it take to give notice that you plan to marry?’
‘A month and a day.’ He had investigated this marriage idea from all angles before he approached her. Could tell her anything she wanted to know about it. He couldn’t explain his sense of eager expectation, though, other than to put it down to the kind of feeling he got when he was approaching the closure of a particularly important deal. ‘If I had to I could get it back to a week, or even a day.’
Claire
