remember what you told me about the shares in Alexander’s?’
She had been frankly surprised that he had opened up about so much of his life to her. Keir was the sort of man who kept things very much to himself, limiting the conversation only to uncomplicated, unemotional topics that didn’t call for much involvement on either part.
But just three nights earlier he had revealed something of the problems he had been having with the haulage and transportation company of which he was part owner and managing director. Problems that had been caused by his stepmother, his late father’s second wife.
Alexander’s was a family firm. Originally owned by Keir’s father, Don, it had been an ailing, small-scale enterprise when, at twenty-one and fresh from university, Keir had taken it by the scruff of the neck and dragged it forcibly into the late twentieth century. In the following twelve years he had turned it into a huge international success. It was now impossible to travel anywhere in Europe or beyond without seeing one of Alexander’s distinctive red and green vehicles somewhere en route.
‘Did you manage to raise the amount you needed to buy your stepmother out?’
Keir’s expression gave her the answer before he spoke, a dark cloud of anger shadowing his face.
‘I raised it, but then she upped the stakes again. She says she has another potential buyer in the offing. If that sale goes through then Alexander’s as a family firm will cease to exist.’
‘And that’s so important to you?’
The look her turned on her scorched her from head to toe with its impatient contempt for the stupidity of her question.
‘Alexander’s is mine, Sienna—mine! I’m not prepared to see it the subject of some hostile take-over and swallowed up, becoming just part of another company. I promised my father that, and I’ll keep my promise if it kills me.’
‘But if your stepmother keeps asking for more?’
Keir’s scowl was blacker than ever.
‘She knows how much I’ve invested in modernising things—buying new vehicles, computers, everything over the past year. Given time, that investment will pay off, several hundredfold, but right now it’s stretched me to my limit. And Lucille knows that, damn her!’
‘How much time would you need?’
‘Twelve months, maybe less…’
Sienna knew almost to the exact second the moment that realisation dawned. She saw the subtle changes in his expression, and those dark, knowing eyes slid to her own face, fixing on it in intent appraisal.
‘That’s what you’re offering.’
It was a statement, not a question, absolute conviction ringing in his tone, and she could almost hear his astute brain working, weighing up pros and cons, subjecting the idea to shrewd and careful analysis.
‘Keir, my inheritance will make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. I’ll have more than enough to keep myself and my mother in comfort. And I’ll be able to help you out too. Oh, don’t say no!’
He was going to. She knew it just by looking at him. And now that what she hoped for, what she’d prayed might happen, was actually within reach, she couldn’t believe that fate would be unkind enough to snatch it away again, right at the last minute.
‘Keir, please don’t say no! You can pay me back if you like. But I can give you the money you need, and you can help me. I need this—we both do!’
Just what was going on inside that handsome head of his? What was that keen, calculating brain thinking? She felt like the accused in some terrible trial. As if she was standing in the dock with Keir acting as both judge and jury, very definitely counsel for the prosecution, about to attack her verbally.
For perhaps thirty of the longest seconds of her life she watched and waited. Watched him consider, debate with himself, accept certain ideas, then just as swiftly reject them. At long last he drew in a deep, uneven breath.
‘Two conditions…’ he said slowly.
‘Anything! Anything at all, if you’ll just say yes!’
‘Condition one…’ Keir marked it off on one long finger of his left hand. ‘We have a proper wedding. All the trimmings. A church ceremony, flowers, candles, the lot.’
‘Whatever you say.’
It was almost impossible to get the words out. Her pulse was racing so fast that her heart seemed to pound against her ribcage, leaving her unable to breathe properly or keep her voice in any way steady.
‘And—and condition two?’
‘After the proper wedding we have a real marriage. I won’t stand for anything else. For one thing, there’s no way we’ll convince anyone that this is the love-match you’re supposed to have by the conditions of your father’s will if we don’t look really together. It’s all or nothing.’
All or nothing. Almost from the moment that they had met she had known that Keir wanted their relationship to be a physical one. He had made no secret of the desire he felt for her, and she had been the one trying to apply the brakes. ‘Trying’ being the operative word, she acknowledged uncomfortably.
Because she couldn’t deny the effect he had on her. From the first moment that he had kissed her, an irresistible, potently sensual chemistry such as she had never known before had sparked between them. It had swept her off her feet, turned her world upside down, taking with it every long-held belief she had ever had about who she was and how she behaved.
It was all the more difficult to cope with because she had never felt like this with Dean. Dean whom she had loved, believed in, trusted. Dean to whom she had given her heart, but even then had never felt the same dangerous, wild excitement that Keir could inspire with simply a look, a touch, a brief caress. She had never understood how she could feel that attraction for a man she barely knew, let alone cared for in the deepest sort of sense.
But perhaps that same excitement would be the saving of her now. Perhaps the unnerving response she felt towards Keir would be enough to turn the fiction of a marriage she was proposing into something that would convince all observers it was actually fact.
But that still didn’t make it easy to answer. Her throat closed over a knot of powerful emotions so that all she could do was nod silently, unable to speak a word.
‘You agree?’ Keir demanded, still in Grand Inquisitor mode.
‘I—I agree.’
It was only as she forced it out that comprehension dawned, bright and vivid, blinding her with its brilliance.
She couldn’t believe it. Could it possibly be true?
‘A proper wedding!’ she gasped, struggling to collect what remained of her scattered thoughts. ‘A real marriage after a proper wedding! Keir—do you mean—are you agreeing to my proposal?’
The look he turned on her had such a scorching intensity that it seemed to sizzle through the air, sending electrical impulses along every nerve in her body. It spoke of hunger and conquest and passion. But most of
