Bridal Bargains (31 page)

With only a few minutes to spare to hit their slot, they boarded the plane and were taxiing towards the runway only moments after they’d strapped themselves into their seats.

And the whole shift from island to plane had been achieved in an empty hollow of perfect silence. It was awful. Neither spoke, neither attempted to, neither looked at the other. Body language did it all for them. Dressed in a razor-sharp business suit, he was grim, tight-lipped and supremely contained within himself.

Nell, on the other hand, had nothing she wanted to say. She was wearing the same clothes she’d travelled to Greece in—mainly because they were hanging in the closet and she hadn’t cared what she wore so long as she got back down the stairs within the allotted time. The only difference being that her hair had been left loose because she didn’t dare waste time in braiding it in case he left the island without her. As she’d walked out into the sunshine where Xander was waiting for her, he’d
taken one look at her from behind those miserable sunglasses, his mouth had compressed then he’d just turned and stridden away.

She’d suffered his help into the helicopter without flinching and kept her gaze fixed directly ahead as he settled himself in his seat. Tension had fizzed all around them throughout the short hop to Athens Airport—making it almost impossible to breathe.

Now they sat surrounded by the kind of luxury travel most people only read about, yet they could have been two strangers on a packed package flight, the way they sat across the aisle from each other, ignoring the other’s presence. As soon as the plane levelled out Xander was climbing to his feet. The sunglasses had gone but it made no difference; his long, glossy eyelashes had taken their place and Nell refused to look up at him anyway.

He disappeared into his custom-built office area towards the back of the plane and a smiling Greek stewardess brought Nell refreshment—at Xander’s instruction, she presumed, because no one had asked her if she wanted anything.

Still, the freshly brewed tea was like manna from heaven after her having drunk nothing for hours. And she even managed to nibble at the selection of freshly made sandwiches before she gave up and pushed the tray away. After that she spent some time flipping through a couple of magazines without focusing on a single page. Then, in the end, because she felt so utterly dragged down and exhausted by all the emotional stresses, she rested her head back against the seat and went to sleep.

When she eventually opened her eyes again she found Xander standing over her. Her nerve-ends leapt on edge, her defences shooting back into place so violently that what she’d gained by managing to fall asleep was lost in that instant.

A nerve ticked in his jaw as she glanced warily up at him. He quickly flicked his eyes away. ‘We will be landing at Heathrow in twenty minutes,’ he informed her then strode away, his body language still speaking loud and clear.

The walk through Heathrow was like being placed beneath a microscope. As had happened in Athens, people stopped in their droves and stared. Nell wanted to curl into a tight chrysalis and just—disappear. With a trio of tough-faced bodyguards hustling around them, they must look like one of those celebrity couples you saw splashed across the tabloids. She hated it and kept her eyes lowered and was actually grateful for the protective arm Xander placed around her as he paced beside her like a sleek, prowling cat that wanted to leap off and savage a couple of those staring faces—keeping up appearances, she thought again with a tiny grimace. And wondered curiously why she hadn’t been treated to this kind of walk down the concourse when they’d left London for Greece. But didn’t ask; neither the man nor the moment nor the throat-clutching pump of her heartbeat encouraged speech.

Rico was waiting outside with the Bentley, its rear door held open wide. She was hustled inside the car’s luxury interior, Xander followed, the door shut, silence clattered around them with the same ear-twisting quality of a full string orchestra tuning their instruments.

They sped away with all the smooth efficiency Xander clearly took for granted. Nell would have smiled if she’d had the will to but she didn’t. She had never felt as cold and unhappy or as isolated—and that was saying something, she mused as she stared out of the car window.

‘Do you actually like living like this?’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘I beg your pardon?’ That she had surprised him with real speech showed in the huskiness of his voice.

‘Like you’re a beast living in a zoo,’ she enlightened and watched him stiffen. ‘Or maybe you’re the star in the quintessential TV reality show,’ she went on, wishing she’d kept quiet, but unable to stop herself from going on. ‘Everything you do, wherever you are in the world, is watched and discussed and pored over. The Press love you. Those people back there love you. Paths appear in thick crowds so you can pass through unhindered while they stand and goggle and gasp.’

She dared to flick a look at him then wished she hadn’t. He was sitting like a block of rock, no reaction whatsoever. It infuriated her; she didn’t know why but it did.

‘Is there a weekly vote on who gets kicked out of your life next?’ she prodded recklessly. ‘Do big companies fall to a million or two phone calls? Mistresses get dumped—bodyguards that don’t fit the tough-guy bill?’

‘Shut up, Nell,’ he advised very quietly.

She wished she could but she was on a roll here. ‘If I don’t please the masses, do I get to go too? Vote out the nagging little wife so our wonderful hero does not have to listen to her any more!’

She saw his hands curl into two fists on his lap. ‘You are going nowhere, so don’t build your hopes up.’

‘Because I might be pregnant?’ she flashed at him with acid bite. ‘Well, that event should boost the ratings. Do we produce your son and heir in front of a blaze of cameras and maybe have your mistress watching from the sidelines just to add a bit of spice?’

The snakelike twist of his body came without warning. For such a big man he struck with stunning, lithe grace. Before she even knew what was happening he had her trapped in the corner of the seat with a hand at her nape and the other clamped across her reckless mouth.

‘Now listen …’ he hissed out in thin warning.

Nell stared at him over the top of his clamping hand—really stared, and for the first time took in his pallor, the tension cutting deep grooves around his wide, sensual mouth. But it was his eyes that held her, eyes like black crystal that pierced her so sharply they hurt.

‘I give you the right to mock me and my lifestyle,’ he bit out tautly. ‘I will even admit that I probably deserve to feel the acid whip of your tongue. But you will not mock yourself in the same manner and you will
not
degrade our unborn child!’

Is that what she’d done? Oh, yes, that was what she had done, Nell acknowledged. Her lips trembled beneath his hand.

‘And don’t cry,’ he added on a driven mutter. ‘I have enough torment to contend with without you adding your tears!’

Her breasts heaved on a tightly suppressed and tremulous shudder. Some of that torment he’d admitted to flashed across his eyes. He bit out a couple of thick foreign curses then, with the same unpredicted lithe movement, let go of her and snaked back into his own seat.

‘You have no idea what you do to me,’ he said then in rough-toned fury while Nell just sat there and trembled. ‘You have no idea of your own damn power to draw breathless gasps from the masses!’

Shocked by that, she blinked at him in bewilderment. Turning his dark head, he caught the surprised blink and his lean face hardened into cynicism.

‘You have the wild, waving hair of a fantasy mermaid, the face of an angel and the body of a natural sensualist!’ he ripped out as if in contempt. ‘Your sensational legs are so slender and long there isn’t a man alive that would not have hot dreams about them wrapped around him. Other women look at you and
wish
they possessed a small fraction of what you’ve got!
I
wish I’d never set eyes on you, then I would not be sitting here feeling hard and hot and bloody frustratingly impotent to do anything about it!’

‘Trust you to drag it all down to your lower-body level,’ Nell responded, too shaken by what he’d thrown at her to care that her voice quivered with the onset of fresh tears. ‘
I
wish you’d never set eyes on me too, then I would not have spent the last year being shipped from one luxury prison to another by a money-motivated brute with sex on the brain!’

‘So what would you rather have been doing?’ he questioned curiously.

‘Getting on with my life!’

‘Life with the Frenchman perhaps?’

Turning a tight-lipped profile to him, she refused to answer. Let him think what he liked about Marcel, she thought mutinously—especially if it annoyed the hell out of him!

‘Tell me, Nell, because I’m genuinely curious. Did the elusive pimpernel have the fifty million to bail your father out?’

‘Marcel is not motivated by money,’ she stated haughtily.

‘Ah, so he’s dirt poor with a sensitive heart but no balls,’ he said crudely.

Nell flashed him a disgusted look. ‘You know nothing about him so don’t pretend that you do.’

‘Are you so sure about that?’

‘Yes!’ she insisted. ‘Or you would have had him beaten up by your mob and be throwing it at me by now.’

‘Clever girl,’ he drawled.

‘Shut up.’ She hated him.

‘Are you going to tell me where he is?’ he persisted.

‘You must be joking,’ she scoffed.

‘No,’ he denied. ‘In fact I have never been more serious. Where is he, Nell?’ he repeated levelly. ‘And before you answer me with some whipping comment I think I should warn you that your freedom will continue to be restricted until you do tell me …’

Nell sizzled on a seething breath of air. ‘I wish I’d never married you.’

‘As if your choices were crowding at your father’s begging door,’ he mocked. ‘As far as I am aware, it was either me or some short, ugly guy in his forties with fat lips and three pairs of hands.’

Stung, she flicked him a sharp glance. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing—forget I said it.’ Frowning, he leant forward to press a button, which brought a miniature drinks bar shooting out of the car’s central bulkhead.

Feeling a bit as though she was about to be slaughtered where she sat, Nell watched him select a bottle of whisky then pour himself a measure into a squat crystal glass. He relaxed back into the seat, downing some of the whisky as he went, his lean face turned to stone again with just the merest hint of self-contempt.

Nell’s upper lip trembled as she parted it from her stiff lower lip. ‘Xander, y-you—’

‘Don’t ask,’ he clipped out.

But it was too late. He had not pulled that nasty remark out of a bag at random just to get at her. There had been hard meaning behind every deriding word.

‘I n-need to know what you meant.’

‘You married me, therefore it meant nothing.’ He stared grimly into his glass.

‘Tell me!’ she cried.

A burning blast of annoyance racked his face. ‘Your father had overstretched his resources. He was sinking very fast. He needed bailing out but there are not many people out there with fifty million pounds sterling to spare on a very bad risk. I was one such person willing to take the risk—for a price.’

Julian Garrett’s daughter and his risky investment protected as much as it could be with the production of a son and heir from the union who would claim the daughter’s inheritance!

‘You already know all of this, so why drag it all out again?’ Xander flicked harshly into the strumming tension holding Nell pale and still.

Because he was still missing out one vital detail—the man with the fat lips. The weekend before Xander came to stay at her father’s house, Clive Benson had come to stay—short, overweight, constantly smiling. At first she’d suffered his over-friendly attitude towards her out of good manners and because she thought he was just doing it in a fatherly way—until he’d become just a bit too friendly, and dared to touch her thigh. She’d taken refuge by spending as much time as she could outside with the dogs, aware that her father had some heavy business going with the man—aware that she could not afford to offend.

‘You’re trying to imply that my father put me up for auction,’ she whispered.

‘You will please make note that I am trying hard
not
to say those ugly words,
agape mou
,’ he returned.

But they were there—they were there!

‘My father wouldn’t do such a h-horrible thing to me.’

Silence. All Xander did was toss the rest of his whisky to the back of his throat. Nell felt the churning surge of nausea in her stomach.

‘I w-wouldn’t have Clive Benson touch me w-with a bargepole.’

‘I am so relieved that I did not encourage such feelings of objection,’ Xander drawled. ‘But take a moment to consider what you would have done if I had not offered a rescue package. Without me or—someone else to bail him out, your father’s company, his employees and countless other subsidiaries would have gone under and sunk without a trace. He would have been in debt to his eye-teeth. His bullish pride would have been shattered. His home would have gone and his beautiful daughter would have found herself tossed out on the street. Suddenly wealthy men like Clive Benson don’t look so bad, hmm?’

‘Stop the car,’ Nell breathed thickly.

He looked utterly incredulous. ‘We are travelling on the motorway!’ he laughed, then he saw her milky pallor and his voice roughened. ‘For goodness’ sake, Nell, it’s too late for you to run away from—’

‘Stop the car!’ she all but shrieked at him just before her hand jerked up to cover her mouth.

To give him his due, when he realised what was about to happen he moved like lightning, wrenching forward to snatch up the internal telephone and snapping out the order to Rico. Nell all but fell out of the car, staggering on wobbly legs across the hard shoulder of the motorway before she was thoroughly and violently sick onto the grass verge.

The arms that came to take her weight and keep her hair back at the same time were a godsend. She didn’t even care that he had to stand there watching her bring up the full contents of her heaving stomach. She’d never felt so wretched—or so distressed. Everything he’d said and
not
said was pulsing and throbbing inside her.