something to be able to do that—especially after everything her sister had done for her when they’d been growing up? To redress the balance a little. Even though...
Tamsyn swallowed down the suddenly acrid taste in her mouth.
Even though Hannah had been the reason Tamsyn had never met her father and it had taken her a long time to forgive her for that...
She looked up to find Xan watching her closely, the way she imagined a policeman might scrutinise a suspect from behind a piece of two-way glass. Well, he certainly wouldn’t be able to read very much from her expression! Hadn’t she spent all her formative years hiding her emotions behind the blasé mask she presented to the world?
‘How long would this marriage last?’
‘Not long. Three months should suffice. Any less than that and it will look like a stunt.’
She nodded. ‘And how much money are you prepared to offer me?’
She saw him flinch—but that didn’t surprise her either. Rich people never wanted to talk about money. They thought it was vulgar. Beneath them. Had Xan forgotten was it like to be poor, she wondered? Was that something else he’d blocked from his mind—like an agreement made by a teenage boy to marry a woman so his father could claw back an important piece of land?
‘How much did you have in mind?’ he questioned.
Her birth father had taught her everything she needed to know about desertion and rejection while her foster father’s life lessons had been about infidelity and gambling. No wonder she distrusted men so much. But some of those lessons had been useful. She’d overheard enough bluster around card games to realise that you had to start high and be prepared to be knocked down whenever you were bargaining for something. So she mentioned an outrageous sum of money, prepared for yet slightly shamed by the brief look of contempt which hardened Xan’s cobalt eyes. But it was gone almost immediately, because he nodded his head.
‘Okay,’ he said.
She blinked in disbelief. ‘Just like that?’
He shrugged. ‘You clearly want it. I can afford it. And obviously, the more I am prepared to pay—the more I get out of our brief union.’
The silky inference behind his drawled words made Tamsyn’s stomach clench with anger. And something else. Something far more potent than anger. Because at times during his story she had wanted to reach out to him. To comfort him? Or to kiss him? Or both. Maybe both. Especially when his face had grown hard and hurt when he’d mentioned his mother. She could feel her breasts pushing against the fine wool of the cashmere dress as she directed him a heated look, forcing herself to be bold enough to ask the question. ‘You think I’m going to have sex with you?’
‘That’s a pretty naive question, Tamsyn,’ he answered softly. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We’ve had sex before and it was good. Very, very good.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And isn’t it a very necessary part of the marriage contract?
There was a pause during which Tamsyn steeled herself against the shocking beauty of his face and her own even more shocking reaction to him...the heat of excitement in her blood and the soft throb of hunger between her legs. But somehow, using the kind of resilience which every abandoned child needed in order to survive, she managed to present to him a face devoid of expression. ‘Not in this case, because it’s only make-believe,’ she said coolly. ‘I’ll marry you because I want your money. But it’s nothing but a business arrangement and there’s no way I’m being intimate with you again, Xan. Because it wouldn’t be right. Not after everything that’s happened.’
SOMEHOW THE FLOWERS woven into her hair stayed in place, even though the sea breeze was whipping wildly all around her. Tamsyn guessed that was one of the benefits of marrying a billionaire—that he could afford to pay a top hairdresser to tame his prospective wife’s unruly curls into an elaborate style which had miraculously stayed put all day. She clutched the railings of Xan’s luxury yacht as it skimmed through the sapphire waters, trying to get her head around the fact that she was now the Greek tycoon’s wife, and that the shiny golden ring which glinted on her finger was for real.
Well, as real as a fake wedding would allow.
Determined not to let herself be led like a lamb to the slaughter on her wedding day, she’d stated her terms before the ceremony, insisting she didn’t want a big fuss—opting instead for something low-key and pared down. She thought it would have felt cheap to put on a big public show which meant nothing, and there was no way she could have made hollow vows in a place of worship. Most important of all, she didn’t want Hannah hearing about the marriage until it was over, just in case she decided to do something dramatic like arriving in a flurry of royal pomp to try and talk her out of it.
But keeping their nuptials quiet seemed to have appealed to Xan as well and in a quiet moment he’d admitted that he had no stomach for weddings in general and his own in particular.
‘The details will be posted in the local town hall which is a requirement by law,’ he said. ‘But since the mayor is a friend, our privacy will be respected and there’s no way word will get out to the press. At least, not until I am ready to issue a statement.’ A hard glimmer of a smile had followed. ‘And it adds a little passionate authenticity to our whirlwind romance if we keep it all very hush-hush don’t you think, agape mou?
What Tamsyn thought wasn’t really here nor there. It bothered her that Xan seemed to be almost relishing the clandestine nature of the wedding, until she forced herself to remember that most men enjoyed secrecy. This was nothing but an elaborate game to Xan, she reminded herself, and since they weren’t planning to be married for very long, what was the point in objecting?
‘We will have a big party straight after the honeymoon,’ Xan had informed her the day after she’d accepted his proposal, when he had turned up unexpectedly at her tiny bedsit, his lips curving with distaste as he looked around, before announcing that from then on she would be staying at the Granchester until the wedding. ‘A big, lavish party to which we will invite family and close friends, and announce that we are man and wife.’
‘And Sofia?’ Tamsyn’s voice had asked, wondering how the Greek woman who had been Xan’s bride intended would take the sudden news. ‘When are you planning to tell her?’
‘I will phone her after the ceremony, once I’ve spoken to my father.’
Something about the obvious omission made her tentatively ask the question. ‘And what about...your mother?’
She had never seen his face so expressionless. As if it had been wiped clean of all feeling—his features looking as if they had been hewn from some dark and impenetrable marble. ‘My mother died a decade ago.’
‘Oh, Xan, I’m sorry.’
It had been an instinctive condolence on her part but he hadn’t wanted it, cutting short the conversation with a cool determination she had come to recognise as Xan’s way of doing things. And in a way she could understand his reluctance to talk. She didn’t want to him delving into her past, did she? Didn’t want him probing her own areas of painful memory. Why rake all that up, when this was a relationship which was never intended to last?
‘But
