yourself saddled with a wife you couldn’t love. And I wouldn’t want to go through life knowing I was a poor second best.’
‘You’re not cut out to be an agony aunt, you don’t know what you’re talking about.’ With difficulty he controlled his annoyance. She was thinking along the lines of a normal marriage, and that wasn’t what he had in mind at all. And if she’d stop talking about Fiona for five seconds he’d put her in the picture.
He refilled her wineglass, sat back, and told her as much as her harping on about his broken engagement had made necessary. ‘I took a look at my lifestyle and decided I needed a wife. Fiona was eminently suitable, beautiful to look at—’ no need to mention her inventiveness in bed, that was his business ‘—a highly accomplished hostess. Essential, because, as you know, along with my home I inherited Mrs Briggs from my father. She’s getting near retirement and is fine as far as the day-to-day running of the household goes, but ask her to organise a dinner party for half a dozen visiting businessmen who we’re pitching a project to—plus their wives—and she’s completely at sea. Well, you must have some idea what I’m talking about. So marriage seemed to be the answer. But it didn’t work out. So, OK, the experience has probably soured me, put me off the man/woman bit, which is why, Mattie, what I’m proposing is what is loosely termed a marriage of convenience. In name only, that goes without saying.’
She was sure the smile he gave her was meant to be reassuring but the ache inside her intensified and the tiny spark of hope finally flickered out. Loving this man, she’d harboured the small but unquenchable hope that if she agreed to marry him then he might, in time, grow to love her. Regardless of the highly probable self-destructive outcome.
Stupid!
Rapidly gathering her considerable mental resources, she gave him a cool smile. ‘You could hire someone—a good catering company, for instance—to organise sophisticated dinner parties at the drop of a hat. And I’m sure you could get one or other of the lovely young things you seem to attract like bees to a honeypot to act as hostess. You don’t need a wife.’
‘A wife would act as a deterrent, Mattie,’ he said with a thin smile. ‘Keep the swarms away from the honeypot. I’m no longer interested,’ he added tiredly.
That figured, she thought, melting. He was still in love with Fiona and her rejection had hit him hard. Doubly hard, since it had to be a first. And he did look weary. There were shadows beneath his eyes and taut lines at the sides of his mouth. She wanted to take his hurt away, and knew she couldn’t.
Instead she told him briskly, ‘I can understand why you feel that way at the moment. But, believe me, it won’t last. Women throw themselves at you, and eventually you’ll be tempted. You’re a sexy man, James Carter.’
He blinked at her and swallowed hard. Tried not to smile. She almost sounded as if she knew what she was talking about. What did she know about the lusts of the flesh? Zilch.
‘Mattie, if we marry, I promise you I won’t play around. You have my word on that.’ It couldn’t have been an easier promise to make. Sexual relationships were more trouble than they were worth. A jaded opinion, granted, but one he would firmly stick with.
His word. Once given, he never went back on it, she knew that. So if they married she wouldn’t have to wonder where he was and who he was with if he didn’t come home at night. Not that she had the slightest intention of accepting his proposal.
It was unthinkable.
Slurping more wine, she pointed out, ‘You haven’t thought this out. You’re going to want children.’
He poured the last of the wine into her empty glass. She wanted chapter and verse, so he’d give it to her. He was beginning to enjoy this verbal fencing match. ‘I was ten years old when I realised that I was just a nuisance as far as my parents were concerned. I demanded things of them they were unable to give. Time, consideration, thought. Love. I was sent away to school and it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. During the holidays there was the hired help to see that I was adequately fed. If I had worries, problems, triumphs—whatever—my parents didn’t want to know. So no, I don’t want children. I wouldn’t be sure I could commit myself as thoroughly as a child deserves. My parents couldn’t bring themselves to be interested in their offspring and the laws of nature mean I’ve inherited their genes.’ He sketched a shrug. ‘I wouldn’t want to risk it.’
‘Oh!’ It was all Mattie could say. She wanted to throttle his parents but she couldn’t because they were both dead. Killed years ago when the light aircraft they had been in had crashed into an Italian Alp. And she wanted to tell him that she would love any child of his like the most precious thing on earth, but she couldn’t. Wanted to tell him that she could give him all the love and devotion his heartless parents had denied him. If he wanted it. But he didn’t.
So she couldn’t do that, either. She said, her voice very soft, ‘I never knew that. About your unhappy childhood.’ It went a long way towards explaining his aura of detachment, the untouchable quality that made him seem so in control of the events and people that surrounded him. ‘You and your parents always seemed to get along together.’
‘When we were together, which wasn’t often, we were polite,’ he conceded. ‘I adapted as a child and learned not to wear my heart on my sleeve.’ His dark brows drew together as he glanced at his watch. ‘However, this isn’t about me, I’m merely explaining why I don’t have any desire to father children.’
‘And Fiona was happy with that?’ He didn’t like her talking about his ex-fiancée. Well, he wouldn’t, would he? But the wine had made her reckless, reckless enough to make an astute guess. ‘I don’t suppose she wanted to spoil her fabulous figure, or get baby dribble on her best Lacroix!’ She batted back incipient tears. He hadn’t asked if she wanted children, if she would be happy in such a sterile relationship. In fact, he wasn’t considering her feelings at all. He probably thought she didn’t have any.
‘What would I get out of your proposed arrangement—except the stress of having to arrange dinner parties?’ she demanded gruffly, beginning to regret her unprecedented intake of alcohol. Any minute now she would start to get over-emotional, blurt out things that would reveal her true feelings for him. Already there was a lump the size of a small house in her throat.
‘Mattie—’ he leaned closer, his forearms on the table, his eyes warmer now. ‘—believe me, I’ve given this a whole lot of thought. It would be a satisfactory arrangement for both of us. Forget the social entertaining side of it—you’re bright enough to get the hang of it, do anything you want to do. We get along well together, always have. I’ve enormous respect for your intelligence, your capacity for hard work. You’re no raver, you won’t play games or take me for a sucker—you’ve too much integrity. You’re comfortable to be around. You’re very soothing company. We’d make a good team. As for what you would gain from such an arrangement—’ he smiled expansively, dazzling her, making her breath shudder in her lungs ‘—you get my name, my protection, my assurance that the demands of your work will always come before your duty as my wife—I know how much it means to you. You get a good home in one of the more sought-after areas of London.’
‘You make me sound like a stray dog that needs to be taken in!’ she spluttered, glad to stop puzzling over the compliments that had come over as not being complimentary at all and made her sound inexpressively dull.
James smothered a sigh. ‘You’re nearer the truth than you imagine. Your father might not have told you yet, but he’s all set to sell up and move to an apartment in town. Taking Mrs Flax. And he’s already making substantial noises about handing his shares in the business over to
