A Husband Of Convenience. JACQUELINE BAIRD
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He had changed from the suit he had arrived in, into a white tee shirt that revealed his strong, tanned arms, dusted with soft black hair, and well-worn blue jeans that hung low on his hips. The zip was fastened but the top snap was undone and gaping.
Josie swallowed hard, and bit down the disloyal thought that he looked a whole lot better than Charles.
‘Are you okay?’ he demanded, roughly pushing the shirt into his jeans and snapping the fastener. ‘I’ve seen the bed. Your first time...if that bas—’
‘Well, well, this is cosy,’ a voice smoothly interrupted. ‘I see you have met my half-brother Conan, Josie, sorry I took so long.’ He held a bottle in his hand.
Josie turned at the sound of Charles’s voice and quickly crossed the room to join him at the door. Charles slipped an arm around her waist and pressed a wet kiss on her lips that made her want to wipe her mouth.
‘Well, Charles, I gather congratulations are in order. Josie has just told me of your engagement. When is the wedding to be?’ Conan asked silkily.
‘What did you tell him that for?’ Charles demanded angrily of Josie.
‘Don’t blame the child,’ Conan drawled. ‘I forced it out of her. You know me, Charles, I always find out in the end, and I’m sure you really wanted me to know.’ Fixing Charles with a glacial glance, he added, ‘There’s no need for embarrassment We’re all family, as you are so keen to remind me every quarter, and Father will be delighted. His eldest son finally getting married.’
Josie was struck dumb as Charles agreed... She didn’t understand why he hadn’t simply denied they were engaged. She hadn’t actually believed Charles’s offer of marriage was genuine; she had simply been carried away by the romance of it all—he a soldier off to war, and, more realistically, the drink.
But before anyone could object Conan was leading them downstairs and into the study where he seemed to take a devilish delight in prompting Charles into telling his father that he and Josie were unofficially engaged.
The Major was delighted. Charles appeared equally pleased, and Josie was simply confused. So much so that when Conan insisted on driving her home because Charles was over the limit she made no objection. Her last glimpse of Charles was his blond head bent over a tall, red-headed woman, their arms wrapped around each other. Josie had been introduced to her earlier. She was the wife of Charles’s commanding officer.
Josie sat stiffly in the passenger seat of the car, suddenly stone-cold sober. How on earth had she got herself in such a mess? She shot a fulminating glance at the arrogant male at her side. It was all his fault; if he hadn’t caught her in his bed and goaded her into saying she was engaged to Charles, she could have put the events of tonight down to experience and tried to forget. But she’d no doubt the Major would tell her father, and she was going to have great trouble explaining her behaviour.
‘Your home, I believe,’ Conan said coolly as he halted the car outside the door of Low Beeches farmhouse.
Josie hastily unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door handle. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.
‘Wait!’ The command was curt, and, leaning forward, Conan caught her hand in his much larger one and turned her back to face him.
‘What for? I think you’ve done enough for one night.’ She was exhausted, sore and fed up, and when his hand moved to her bare arm she flinched, her skin burning where he’d touched.
‘Not so fast. After all, we are soon to be related; surely I merit a brotherly kiss?’
Before she knew what he intended Conan had slipped an arm around her waist and hauled her across his lap. His other hand tangled in her silky black curls, holding her face up to his. She was trapped, her high round breasts crushed against the massive bulk of his chest, and her violet eyes widened in astonishment as his dark head bent and his lips covered hers.
He tasted slightly of mint, his mouth firm but undemanding. Then suddenly he was kissing her with a deeply sensual passion that lit an answering response in her young body. Josie was too astounded by his audacity to do anything other than submit to the expert demand of his mouth. Her body grew soft and pliant against him, his arm tightened around her for an instant, then suddenly she was back in her seat, but too dazed to do anything but stare up at him.
‘That was just a sample to compare with, Josie,’ And, slipping out of the car, he walked around to the passenger side and helped her out. ‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry to marry. You don’t have to marry the first man you have sex with.’
‘How...?’
‘Never mind, but remember there are plenty more fish in the sea. Take it from me, you have no chance of a happy-ever-after with Charles.’ And he left her standing on the doorstep.
Josie watched him drive off, wishing she had slapped his face or something.
Remembering that night now, Josie sighed heavily. Conan was wrong, she thought wearily as the grey light of dawn glinted through her bedroom window; there were not plenty more fish in the sea, not for her. She was pregnant and destined to be an unmarried mother, and for the first time since discovering the fact she realised she did not mind. The thought of a child of her own to love was somehow comforting, and finally she drifted off to sleep.
Josie yawned and opened her eyes. ‘Daddy,’ she murmured, the word little more than a croak. Her throat felt dry and rough. He was sitting in the chair by her bed.
‘You’re awake, Josephine. How do you feel?’ he asked quietly, his tired eyes fixed sadly on her small pale face.
‘I‘m fine,’ she smiled. Her father was the only person to call her Josephine. Then, like a shutter falling, the smile was wiped from her face, as the memory of yesterday returned to haunt her. ‘What time is it?’ she asked, the mundane question masking her very real distress.
‘About ten-thirty.’
‘Oh, my word! I’m late for work!’ she exclaimed.
‘No. I have already called your office, and told them you were suffering from a severe migraine.’
‘But I never get migraine.’
‘Oh, Josephine! What does it matter?’ Her father sighed and rose from the chair to sit on the side of the bed. He took her hand in his. ‘I am so sorry. I know how hard it must be for you, losing Charles so tragically. I remember how I felt when your mother died. This is all my fault. I feel so guilty. I’ve let you down—and your mother, God rest her soul! If I’d been a better father, given you the guidance and support you needed, this would never have happened.’
Her father’s halting speech made Josie feel worse. She studied his shadowed face in the morning light. Poor Daddy—she had failed him so badly. He’d been so pleased when he’d thought she was going to marry Charles, and she’d not had the nerve to tell him of her own doubt, and now she didn’t need to. But she could see the strain etched into the multitude of lines on his much loved face, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him blaming himself. The tears welled in her eyes. ‘Oh, Daddy,’ she whispered, and one tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Hush, Josephine; don’t cry.’