style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Later.’ He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in the car. ‘I don’t believe in arguing and driving at the same time.’ Walking around to the driver’s side, he slid in behind the wheel, and started the engine.
Josie knew what he said made sense, so, silently fuming, she watched him drive the car along numerous country roads until he pulled up outside a small country pub called The White Swan.
‘This is the first pub I had a drink in as a boy,’ Conan remarked, turning in his seat to look at her in the dim light of the small car park. ‘I think you’ll like it; the food is good.’
‘If you say so,’ Josie said grudgingly, and felt for the car door.
‘Wait,’ Conan commanded, and caught her hand in his. ‘Say what you have to before we go inside.’ He was idly stroking her palm with his thumb as he spoke. ‘I have no intention of arguing with you while we eat.’
His touch was sending tiny quivers of sensation over her sensitive flesh and it took a supreme effort of will not to tear her hand away. But she could not afford to show him any sign of weakness. Conan would try any trick in the book to get his own way—and some he had personally invented, Josie was sure.
‘All right. Explain to me how the announcement of our engagement got in the newspaper so fast, and don’t bother lying, because I know.’
‘If you know, why ask?’ he mocked.
‘You know damn well what I mean.’
‘Don’t curse, Josie; I don’t like that in a lady.’
‘Tough, because you’re enough to make a saint curse,’ she shot back.
‘All right, I admit it. My father had prepared the announcement of your engagement to Charles on Thursday. He asked me to deal with it, and I did.’
‘He had no right to,’ Josie snapped, unaware of what she was revealing.
Conan’s hand grasped hers tighter. ‘You didn’t know; he didn’t ask you?’
‘No. Well... What does it matter? You must have changed the name and entered it on Friday morning at the latest, before even asking me. I might have said no.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘That is not the point.’
‘Josie, there is no point.’ Turning her hand over in his, he added, ‘We are engaged; we are to be married in a couple of weeks. Accept the fact and let’s eat.’
Josie was still seething with resentment as he virtually marched her into the pub with his hand at her elbow. She glanced around. It was a typical old coaching inn, all dark oak and low ceilings, a few oak tables and chairs, and along one wall were small dining alcoves. Not the sort of place she would have expected Conan to frequent. But hey! What did she know about pubs? She had a small circle of good friends she socialised with, and if they went for a drink it was usually to a wine bar in Cheltenham. Anyway, Josie wasn’t much of a drinker—except at that fatal party, she thought bitterly.
‘Sit down, Josie, and try to look less like you’re being led to the gallows.’ Conan urged her into a small banquette made for two and slid in beside her.
‘Do you have to sit next to me?’ she snapped. He was crowding her, his long leg resting against hers.
‘In your present mood, yes,’ he bit out. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to run away.’
‘Well, what do you expect? You had no right to put the announcement in the paper without telling me.’
‘I had every right.’ He turned sideways, his dark eyes narrowed on her mutinous face. ‘Let’s get one thing straight here and now.’ His strong hand grasped hers and lifted it to within inches of her own face.
‘See that ring? That gives me every right and don’t you forget it.’ His savage undertone sent icy fingers of fear walking up her rigid spine.
The gloves were off with a vengeance, Josie thought. The suave sophistication Conan portrayed to the world was a thin veneer to mask the ruthless predator beneath. ‘We are not married yet,’ she snorted inelegantly. But the glitter in his piercing dark eyes sent a shiver of apprehension through her body. ‘Engagements are easily broken,’ she continued. Why she was carrying on baiting him Josie did not know.
His grip on her hand tightened and she had to bite down a whimper of pain. ‘Not this one, lady,’ Conan drawled with silken emphasis on ‘lady.’ ‘No one makes a fool out of me.’
‘You do that perfectly well for yourself!’ Josie snapped back. ‘And let go of my hand.’
‘Well, if it isn’t Conan, my old mate.’ A booming voice interrupted their heated exchange.
Conan ignored her request and glanced across at the man standing at the opposite side of the table.
‘Bootsy!’ he exclaimed. ‘I might have guessed you would still be drinking here.’
Josie looked at the short, red-haired, blue-eyed man who had spoken and then back at Conan, and was surprised to see a smile of genuine pleasure lighting up his rugged features.
‘Not drinking... I own the place. But what about you? I heard on the Beeches bush telegraph that you’re about to be married.’ It was Josie’s turn to get the full power of twinkling blue eyes. ‘And this must be the lucky lady. I could tell you stories about this ‘un you wouldn’t believe.’ He nodded towards Conan.
‘Oh. I’m sure I would,’ Josie said dryly.
‘Too late, Bootsy.’ Conan’s long arm curved around her shoulders, and his dark head bent to nuzzle her neck. ‘Behave yourself!’ he whispered, his tongue flicking around the inner whorls of her ear. His breath fanned her cheek as he raised his head, and her heartbeat thundered in her eardrums. She couldn’t have spoken even if she’d wanted to, but Conan had no problem.
‘Josie knows all my weak spots and then some,’ Conan favoured her with a long, lingering perusal, his dark eyes roaming over her face and down to the firm swell of her breasts beneath the fine red wool of her dress, then slowly back to her face. ‘And I certainly know all of hers,’ he opined with a sensual smile. ‘Don’t I, darling?’ The other man was left in no doubt that they shared a very intimate relationship.
She wanted to slap Conan, but instead she snuggled under his arm. Two could play at that game, she thought furiously. ‘He is so naughty,’ she simpered, giving Bootsy a wide smile. ‘But so romantic. Would you like to see my ring?‘ Conan had no choice but to let go of her hand. She held it out over the table. ‘It was his grandmother’s. Isn’t that the most wildly romantic gift?’ and, turning a sickly-sweet smile on Conan, she added, ‘My hero.’
Bootsy shot an alarmed glance at Conan, then looked at Josie and tried to smile. ‘Yes, well, very nice. Congratulations. Now, what can I get you to eat? The steak pie is perfect, but then everything I serve is perfect.’
Conan ordered for both of them and Bootsy could not get away fast enough.
‘You realise, Josie, the man thinks I’m marrying a simpering
