Claiming His Wedding Night
Standing his ground, he had once again sworn he was innocent and accused her of refusing to listen to him, of lack of trust, of never really loving him.
The latter had brought stinging tears to her eyes. But, fighting against the surge of emotion, and flanked by her father and Martin, she had told him that he was wasting his time, that she never wanted to see him again.
When he would have argued further, he had been ‘escorted’ from the premises.
The last few bitter words they had exchanged had been over the phone.
When she had felt able to, she had rung him to repeat that everything was over between them, that she wanted to be free of him, and that she and her father were leaving the States for good.
It was then he had warned, ‘Don’t think I’m letting you go so easily. Sooner or later I’ll find you, wherever you are.’
Now, just thinking about it, made her shiver.
But, though it was still so vivid in her mind, it had been almost three years ago. Surely after this length of time he would have moved on?
In all probability he was married. When they had once talked about their future together, he had said he wanted children so he might even have started a family.
She could only hope that his life was now settled and stable, and that he had forgotten the past.
But suppose he hadn’t? Suppose he was here in London because of her? Suppose he had finally managed to track her down?
Becoming aware that her unhappy thoughts had gone full circle, she brought herself up short. It was high time she stopped thinking about Jared and started to concentrate on tomorrow, and what was bound to be the most important meeting of her life.
The next morning, after a virtually sleepless night when she had spent hours lying awake trying not to think about the past, Perdita was up at five-thirty.
Her head throbbed dully and she felt like death warmed up—an expression of her father’s that until that minute she hadn’t fully understood.
Glancing at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. Just when she had wanted to look her best and radiate an air of efficiency and confidence, she looked like something the cat had dragged in.
Oh, well, she would just have to see what ravages a spot of make-up could hide.
Showered and dressed in a smart charcoal-grey business suit, small chunky gold hoops in her neat lobes, her blonde hair taken up into a fashionable knot, she checked her appearance in the cheval glass in her bedroom.
Her skin was flawless, so normally she needed very little in the way of cosmetics. Now, just a light coat of foundation hid the slight shadows beneath her eyes, while a pale lip gloss and a hint of blusher bestowed a healthy glow.
Her brows and lashes were naturally darker than her hair and needed only a touch of mascara to define them even more.
After a critical survey could find no real fault with her appearance, she picked up her bag and headed for the stairs, just as Sally’s voice called, ‘The car’s here now.’
‘Coming.’
The housekeeper, who had insisted on getting up to see her off, was waiting in the hall. With a quick hug, she said, ‘I only hope everything goes well.’
Then, looking oddly flustered, she added, ‘I really do have your best interests at heart.’
Returning the hug, Perdita said, ‘Thanks. I’ll give you a ring and let you know how it goes.’
A little awkwardly, Sally told her, ‘I won’t be home. I promised I’d pop over and have breakfast with your dad. I thought it might help to take his mind off things. Or, at the very least, give him someone to talk to. I hope you don’t mind?’
Touched by her concern, Perdita said warmly, ‘Of course I don’t mind. On the contrary, it sounds like a great idea.’
Outside, it was another lovely sunny day, the air as cool and sparkling as champagne. At that time in the morning the square was still quiet and in the central gardens dew sparkled on the grass and the beds of early summer tulips.
A dark blue limousine was drawn up by the kerb with a uniformed chauffeur waiting to open the door. As she crossed the pavement, he said a cheerful, ‘Good morning, miss.’
Perdita returned his greeting and, trying not to feel like someone about to try and successfully negotiate a minefield, climbed in and fastened her seat belt.
Traffic was very heavy and the journey seemed to be taking so long that she began to worry about being late. If she missed this appointment, the consequences would be disastrous.
On tenterhooks, she breathed a cautious sigh of relief when they finally reached the airport environs and a few minutes later drew up in an area she didn’t immediately recognize.
A smartly dressed sandy-haired young man was waiting for them.
Before turning to lead the way into the terminal building, he greeted her with a smile and a courteous, ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name’s Richard Dow and I work for Salingers.
‘I’m pleased you were able to make it in time,’ he went on as they crossed the VIP lounge. ‘The traffic seems to get worse.’
To her surprise, Perdita found herself escorted through heavy glass doors and out onto the tarmac apron where a private executive jet stood close by, its immaculate white and blue paintwork gleaming in the bright sunshine.
As though sensing her surprise, Richard Dow said, ‘Didn’t Mr Calhoun’s secretary mention that Salingers executives usually have breakfast on the plane?’
‘No. No, she didn’t…Not that it matters,’ Perdita added hastily. ‘It’s just that I was expecting…’ The words tailed off as they reached the plane and she was ushered up the steps.
A white-coated steward was waiting in the doorway to welcome her aboard. ‘Good morning, Miss Boyd. My name is Henry. If you’d like to follow me?’
Short and nimble, his black slicked-back hair gleaming, he led the way through to a small but luxuriously furnished lounge where a table was set for breakfast with damask linen, crystal glasses, a bottle of Krug on ice and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.
Pulling out a chair, he deftly settled her at the table. ‘If you would like a glass of champagne and orange juice while you’re waiting? Or a coffee, perhaps?’
Her head still aching and intent on keeping a clear brain, Perdita said, ‘A cup of coffee would be nice, thank you, Henry.’
Having assembled brown sugar and cream, the steward took a glass jug of coffee from a hotplate and filled her cup.
Then, indicating a nearby bell push, ‘If you require anything further, Miss Boyd, just ring for me.’
She thanked him and, silent-footed, he disappeared through a sliding door in the bulkhead.
Relaxing a little now that she was sure the meeting was going ahead, she sipped her coffee and surveyed the quiet luxury that surrounded her.
There were two soft leather armchairs, several bookcases, a comprehensive in-flight entertainment centre and a small leather-topped desk.
Salingers did their top men proud, she thought, taking in the sumptuous carpeting and the two striking paintings by Joshua Lorens that she recognized as originals rather than prints.
With this kind of money at their fingertips, they should have no trouble bailing out half a dozen struggling companies. So all she had to do was persuade them that buying into JB Electronics would be a good investment in the long run…
Deep in thought about the coming meeting, it was a moment or two before she realized that the plane was moving, taxiing slowly across the apron.
Perdita had half risen to ring for the steward before it occurred to her that the area was getting busy and the pilot was probably just moving up to accommodate another plane.
Sinking back into her seat, she picked up her cup and was about to take a sip when the bulkhead door slid aside and a well dressed man walked in. A tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man with crisp dark hair and silvery-grey eyes.
Every trace of colour draining from her face, leaving the blusher standing out like a circus clown’s make-up, she set down the cup with a clatter, splashing coffee into the saucer.
Staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless, she wondered wildly if all the strain of her father’s heart surgery and the company’s financial problems, coupled with the little scene outside the Arundel, had affected her brain and she was imagining the whole thing.
‘Hello, Perdita,’ he said softly.
Though she hadn’t heard him speak for three years, she would have known that deep, attractive voice anywhere. It could have called her from the grave.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘Standing in for Sean Calhoun.’ Jared’s tone was neutral, almost pleasant, but his grey eyes were as cold as the Atlantic in winter. ‘So, if you want to save your father’s company, you’ll have to negotiate with me.’
Chapter Two
PERDITA jumped to her feet and, her heart racing, scarcely able to breathe, stammered, ‘I…I don’t understand. Do you mean you work for Salingers?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Then what is this?’ she demanded raggedly. ‘Some kind of joke?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘I don’t believe you. If you don’t work for Salingers—’
‘I don’t actually work for them, but you could say I’m here on their behalf,’ he broke in smoothly.
She shook her head. ‘No, no…Even if it means waiting, I’d prefer to deal with Mr Calhoun. I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘I’m afraid you have no option. As I said before, if you want to save your father’s company you’ll have to negotiate with me.’
Clutching her bag, she moved a step or two towards the door, desperate to escape. But, tall and dark and dangerous, he was effectively blocking her way.
Hearing the panic in her own voice, she said, ‘I want to leave.’
‘Giving up so easily?’ he taunted.
‘Not at all,’ she denied jerkily. ‘I’ll talk to Salingers. Explain to them. Ask to see someone else.’
‘I’m afraid it won’t be any use.’
‘Why won’t it?’
‘Because I own the company.’
‘You own Salingers?’ she said through dry lips.
‘That’s right.’ Smiling a little at her shocked face, he went on, ‘So I suggest you sit down again and we’ll talk over breakfast, as planned.’
Shaking her head, she insisted, ‘No, I want to go now. There’s absolutely no point in staying. I know perfectly well that you’ve no intention of helping.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m quite sure we could come to some kind of agreement that would satisfy both of us.’
It was a trick, and she knew it.
‘No, I don’t trust you.’
‘You can’t afford not to,’ he pointed out laconically. ‘Without my help JB will go under, and you know it.’
It was the truth. But she couldn’t believe that he really intended to help.
There was a series of slight bumps, and part of her mind registered that the plane was still moving away from the terminal building.
Getting more anxious by the moment, she repeated hoarsely, ‘I want to leave.’
When he made no attempt to move, taking her courage by the scruff of the neck, she advanced towards him purposefully. ‘If you don’t let me pass, I’ll be forced to scream.’
‘Dear me,’ he said mildly. ‘We can’t have that. Though Henry may look a little like a gigolo, he’s really quite sensitive and easily upset.’
Knowing he was laughing at her, Perdita gritted her teeth. ‘I mean it.’
Without moving, he queried, ‘How is your father’s health these days?’
‘What?’
‘I understand he’s recently undergone delicate heart surgery. Can he afford any further stress?’
When, white to the lips, she merely stood and stared at him, he went on, ‘So suppose you take the sensible option and stay and talk to me?’
‘It wouldn’t do any good.’
‘Let’s have breakfast and see, shall we?’
While he was speaking there was a knock, the door slid aside and the steward put his head round. ‘Excuse me, sir, but the Captain asked me to let you know we have a slot and will be taking off in a minute or so.’
‘Thanks, Henry.’
As the man disappeared, Jared turned to Perdita. ‘It looks like breakfast will have to wait until we’re airborne.’
Airborne.
Her paralyzed brain clicking into gear, she tried to push past him. ‘I must leave before it takes off. I must!’ she cried frantically.
Catching her wrist, not hurting, but keeping her where she was, he said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve left it much too late.’
‘No, no, you have to let me get out! I can’t possibly go with you!’
‘Once again, you have no option. The outer door’s secured and we’re at the top of the runway. We need to be seated for take off.’
As she strove to come to terms with this latest development, Jared urged her into the small forward cabin, where the steward was already buckled into one of the jump seats.
Recognizing the futility of arguing, she submitted to being pressed into one of the seats. Then Jared fastened her belt and tightened it, before taking his place beside her.
A few moments later the plane began to move down the runway, gathering speed.
Take-off seemed quick and effortless and, as soon as they had climbed steeply to the required height and levelled out, the steward disappeared through a curtained doorway.
Perdita, who had sat like a statue, her thoughts in chaos, burst out, ‘I don’t know what you hope to achieve by this—’
Jared put a finger to her lips, stopping her breath and sending a shiver running through her. ‘I’ll tell you what I hope to achieve as soon as we’ve had breakfast, but in the meantime we don’t want to upset Henry.’
He unfastened their seat belts and shepherded her through to the lounge area.
‘I really don’t want to eat,’ she protested. ‘In the circumstances, I’d prefer to know just what you’re playing at.’
His voice holding a quiet authority, he said, ‘I’ll be happy to tell you, once breakfast is over.’
When, biting her lip, she was once again seated at the table, he stood for a moment or two looking down at her before taking the chair opposite.
He was dressed in oatmeal-coloured trousers and a well-cut lightweight jacket, with a navy-blue silk shirt and a matching tie loosened at the neck. His crisp dark hair was parted on the left and cut and styled conventionally.
But even as the thought struck her, she knew there was nothing remotely conventional about Jared.
Unable to look away, she found herself staring at his handsome face. He was the same, yet not the same. Any trace of the younger, carefree Jared she had first met was gone. This man was altogether harder, tougher, with a mature width of shoulder and lines of pain etched beside his mouth.
Meeting those brilliant eyes and glimpsing a cold purpose in them, she shuddered and tore her gaze away just as the steward wheeled in a breakfast trolley loaded with several silver dishes.
He was about to serve them when Jared said briskly, ‘Thank you, Henry. We’ll help ourselves. But perhaps you’d be good enough to fetch Miss Boyd a clean cup and saucer?’
‘Certainly, sir.’ The dirty crockery was whisked away and immediately replaced by fresh. Then, with a slight inclination of his gleaming head, the steward withdrew silently.
‘Coffee?’ Jared enquired politely.
Subduing a sudden desire to laugh hysterically, Perdita answered with equal politeness, ‘Please.’
He filled both their cups before lifting the lids of the various dishes and enquiring, ‘What’s it to be? Bacon and eggs? Sausages? Kidneys? Mushrooms?’
‘Nothing, thank you. I couldn’t eat a thing,’ she told him stiltedly.
‘Try. You’re too thin as it is.’ Looking at her set face, he added, ‘Starving yourself isn’t going to solve anything and, if I remember rightly, you used to enjoy bacon and eggs.’
She sat in tight-lipped silence while he served her with a generous amount of crisp bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs before helping himself to the same.
Then, his eyes fixed on her face, he waited.
His willpower proved to be stronger than hers—as it always had been—and finally she gave in and picked up her knife and fork.
He waited until she put the first forkful of food into her mouth before starting on his own.
Once Perdita began to eat, in spite of all the trauma, she found that her normal healthy appetite was back and she cleared her plate.
Jared made no comment, but he swapped the plate for a clean one and put the toast-rack within easy reach.
When she sat unmoving, he helped himself to some toast and spread butter and marmalade on it in a leisurely fashion.
Seeing he had no intention whatsoever of saying anything until he was good and ready, she threw in the towel and followed suit.
She had just taken her first bite when, with a glance from beneath long dark lashes, he remarked slyly, ‘The last time we had breakfast together like this, we were in Las Vegas.’
Her eyes on her plate, she kept chewing in silence.
‘But perhaps you don’t remember?’
She remembered only too well.
All her life Perdita had been cosseted and cared for, guarded as well as any chaperoned miss from the Edwardian era.
Naturally quiet and a little shy, and loving her father as much as he loved her, it had never occurred to her to feel caged and stifled by so much care and affection.
That was, not until she met Jared and wanted enough freedom to spread her wings.
At first everything had gone well. Her father had been prepared to both like and respect him until Martin had mentioned that Jared had a bad reputation with regard to women.
Suddenly waking up to the fact that his beloved daughter might be in danger, John had ordered her to give, ‘that young Dangerfield’ a wide berth.
She would certainly have rebelled but, as her father had recently suffered his first heart attack and his doctors had warned against worries or stress of any kind, she had, outwardly at least, complied.
For several months she and Jared had been forced to meet in secret, snatched moments together that had left both of them dissatisfied and bitterly unhappy.
He had begged her to marry him and present her father with a fait accompli, but she had been afraid to chance it while his recovery was still uncertain.
Then, while Elmer was away in New York, John had had to go into Mardale, a Los Angeles hospital, for a week of special and extensive tests.
Perdita had made up her mind that if the results were good and showed that her father was more or less recovered, she would tell him the truth.
When the time had come for John to go to Los Angeles, he had refused to let her accompany him, saying there was no point in her simply hanging around a hospital all that time. She would be much better off at home.
‘After all,’ he had added, ‘it’s not as if you’ll be on your own. Martin will be there.’
Truth to tell, she had been pleased to stay behind. It had given her a few precious days to be with Jared.
That sudden taste of freedom had gone to both their heads, and when he had suggested a trip to Las Vegas she had eagerly agreed.
All the tawdry glitter of that city in the desert had seemed to be right and romantic, and she had been blissfully happy to be with the man she loved, with no idea how it was all going to end…
Feeling suddenly chilled through and through, Perdita snapped off the thought and brought her mind back to the present.
What had made him mention Las Vegas? she wondered. She didn’t for a moment believe it was just an idle remark. Jared never did or said anything without a good reason.
Which meant it would only be playing into his hands to ask.
Holding on to her facade of composure as best she could, she ate her toast in silence while she waited for him to finish his coffee.
As soon as he had, she gathered her courage and said, ‘Now perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell me what all this is about?’
‘All what?’ he asked innocently.
‘This…whole thing.’
‘You mean our meeting? But surely you—’
‘Don’t try to play games with me,’ she broke in angrily. ‘This must have been planned right from the start.’
‘That’s quite true,’ he admitted.
‘So it was you who made sure Salingers approached my father to suggest they might have a solution to all his company’s financial problems?’
‘Right.’
‘Why?’
‘Why do you think?’
‘You planned to wait until the very last minute and then withdraw your offer of help.’
‘Wrong.’
‘I don’t believe you…Your intention was to watch JB Electronics go down.’
‘Now why should I want to do that?’
‘Revenge.’
‘Ah…I can’t deny revenge is sweet.’
‘But after three years! Surely you’ve moved on? Forgotten the past?’
‘Have you?’
Watching all the colour drain from her face, he said, ‘It wouldn’t appear so.’
‘Even if things aren’t forgotten,’ she argued desperately, ‘surely they cease to hurt so much? Anger cools…’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
Though his tone was quiet, almost pleasant, she began to shiver.
Seeing that slight betraying movement, he smiled a little. ‘Though I am sure of one thing. As the old saying goes, “Revenge is a dish best served cold”.’
‘So I was right,’ she choked. ‘You are planning to stand by and gloat while Dad’s company goes under?’
‘You’re quite mistaken.’
He sounded as if he meant it and, brought up short, she gazed at him, perplexed.
‘Then what are you planning? There has to be some reason for…’ The words tailed off as a frightening thought struck her.
‘For you being here?’ He smiled coldly. ‘Oh, yes, there’s a reason. More than one, in fact.’
With a boldness she was far from feeling, she demanded, ‘Well, are you going to tell me? Or would you prefer me to guess?’
‘What is your guess?’ he asked interestedly.
Her throat dry, she said, ‘That I was right about you wanting revenge…I just got the wrong person.’
When he made no attempt to deny it, she swallowed convulsively. ‘So this whole thing was set up just to lure me to the airport and on to the plane…Well, it can’t possibly work!’
‘It’s worked so far,’ he pointed out.
‘But it’s kidnapping! And, in case you haven’t realized, kidnapping is against the law.’
Her attempt at sarcasm only made him smile.
‘How can you call it kidnapping? You got on the plane of your own free will.’
‘But when I wanted to get off, you wouldn’t allow me to.’
‘My dear Perdita, surely you realize that people can’t just get off a plane and start wandering about on the runway.’
Realizing it was fruitless to keep arguing, she relapsed into silence.
If luring her here was so he could extract some kind of revenge—and he had failed to deny her accusation—how far did he mean to go? Was it his intention simply to scare her? Give her an uncomfortable couple of hours before letting her go?
Or could he have something altogether more sinister in mind?
No, surely not.
She had accused him of kidnapping without seriously believing it. All the indications were that he was now a wealthy and respectable businessman with a position to maintain. Not some kind of criminal.
But, whatever, it would do no good to let him see how rattled she was.
Taking a deep breath, she said, ‘Very well, you’ve won so far. But now what? If I don’t get back to the office soon they’ll wonder where I’ve got to, and if Dad doesn’t hear from me before too long he’ll start to worry.’
‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t phone him. And the office too, if it comes to that.’
‘You won’t try to stop me?’
‘Certainly not. After all,’ he added sardonically as she reached for her bag, ‘we can’t have your father worrying about you.’