The Billionaire's Convenient Bride Read online

  ‘In this instance,’ he said, ‘we both win.’

  Win?

  Reality check.

  Kam was driven by what had happened to him in the past. His plan to help disadvantaged inner city kids could have been accomplished anywhere but it had to be the castle. Since it couldn’t happen without her, he’d incorporated her into the plan. She must never forget that.

  ‘It’s been a long time, Kam. Whatever was between us is way back in the mists of time.’

  He didn’t rush to deny it but said, ‘Time is the one thing we don’t have.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting we delay the wedding. Just...’ She swallowed. ‘You’ve come back from a long way away, Kam. Not just distance, but from a different life. You are not the boy who left here. I’m not the girl you left behind.’ How much more plainly could she put it? ‘We need time to re-establish a relationship.’

  ‘We’re doing that with every word we speak, every plan we make for the future of the castle.’

  ‘That’s it,’ she said, grabbing for something solid to hang onto. ‘It’s all about the castle. You want it. I need to save it. Where are we in all that?’

  The words came out in a rush. Making it personal. Exactly what she’d been determined to avoid.

  ‘Are you saying that you need time before you’re prepared to have a baby with me?’

  She was sitting in the darkness, with only the light from her phone and the campfire, and his voice was so soft, so intimate in her ear that if he were here, if he were with her, nothing would have stopped her from flinging herself at him, making the body and soul commitment she’d been on the threshold of all those years ago. From saying those three dangerous words...

  When the silence had gone on for too long, he said, ‘I understand, Agnès. There will be a lot of work to be done here and I think it would be sensible to close the castle for a while so that you can relaunch it with a new website later in the year. We should leave Suz in charge and go away for a while after the wedding.’

  ‘Away? No. I can’t leave—’

  ‘I have to go to India in a few weeks,’ he said, ignoring her protest. ‘Everyone would expect you to come with me on honeymoon.’

  Agnès felt her heart go thump, the hot flush of desire that had been hovering on the brink since he’d walked into her office flood through her veins. How easy it would be to surrender, say to him, ‘Come to me now.’

  Easy for the girl she had once been. For the woman she’d become it was the hardest thing in the world because in the moment she succumbed to that hunger she would be his. There would be no going back.

  She took a steadying breath. Her voice had to be strong. There could be no betraying wobble...

  ‘I can’t—’

  ‘It’s just a word. A show for the world at large,’ he replied, equally calm, ‘and, if I’m honest, a little for pride. How will it look if I go away straight after the wedding and you stay behind?’

  What was that? A tiny chink in his confidence? She felt an unexpected rush of affection for this man who had everything, everything except the one thing that only she could give him.

  It was something beyond physical desire. And far more dangerous.

  ‘You will love India.’

  ‘Will I?’ It was true that the word held some magic enchantment.

  ‘I know your world, Agnès. I’m suggesting I show you mine. Apart from anything else I think you could do with a break. You’ve had a rough year. Getting away for a while will give you a new perspective, maybe some inspiration. If nothing else, come for the colour, the gardens, to lie in the sun. We can get to the rest when you’re ready.’

  India... Exotic, colourful, warm nights and sea breezes. She could feel her limbs melting at the thought. Falling for the temptation.

  And with the temptation came the doubt.

  Kam had built an empire by selling his idea, selling himself, selling a lifestyle. He was selling himself to her right now. Using what he knew about her.

  The gardens had been a clever touch. He knew that plants had been her passion, that she’d wanted to follow her mother into horticulture.

  Was that how the women in her family had coped with marriage to men who had only married them so that they could give them a son, or, failing that, a daughter to inherit the castle?

  Had they subsumed their deepest longings into passion for their gardens, the creation of exquisite needlework, collecting things with which to fill their empty lives while their children were taken care of by nursemaids and nannies?

  Clearly there had been affection, even love, in some of those marriages, but there were some that had been beastly affairs, including that of her poor grandmother.

  Kam was all sweetness and light now, but he’d been bitingly angry when he’d arrived. How would he be once she’d given him what he wanted? He had come back looking for revenge and what could be sweeter than to marry the last Prideaux of Priddy Castle in order to claim it for himself?

  He was showing her his caring side now, going along with all her ideas, but once he had an heir and the estate was, effectively, his, she would have served her usefulness. He could divorce her in a year or two and still have everything he wanted.

  He would undoubtedly want a prenup to protect his wealth. Well, she would have one, too. There was no money to protect, but there was her pride.

  ‘I want you to have your heir, Kam. It’s all I can give you in return for what you’re doing for me, for the people I care about, but—’

  ‘Agnès—’

  ‘I can’t—’

  ‘Agnès,’ he said, a little more sharply, demanding her attention and then, when he had it, ‘I have a copy of the entail. I know we don’t have to be married for our child to inherit but I want you to know that I am fully committed to a partnership with you.’

  ‘Oh...’ The words that had been bursting out of her mouth were suddenly stuck in her throat. He knew, and yet he was still proposing marriage. Tears were stinging the backs of her eyes and she had to blink hard to stop them from falling.

  He was still selling himself as Mr Nice Guy.

  She might have adored him as a girl, but he hadn’t always been a nice boy.

  He’d once left her stuck up a tree he’d dared her to climb, abandoning her to go off and do some boy thing that he hadn’t wanted her to be part of. And while she’d been thrilled to be his accomplice when he’d had fish to sell, he’d been using her because he’d known that if the warden had stopped her, he might have confiscated the fish, but he wouldn’t have risked a confrontation with her grandfather.

  ‘Do you want my gratitude?’ she asked, more sharply than she’d intended.

  ‘No!’ He sounded hurt.

  ‘That was another rhetorical question, Kam. Anything but marriage would have been a deal breaker,’ she said, even if she had her fingers mentally crossed as she said it. ‘I was going to say that I am happy to have your heir as soon as possible, but that a honeymoon baby doesn’t need an actual honeymoon. There are other ways.’

  This time the silence was longer.

  ‘You’re planning on the turkey-baster option?’ he asked, when she thought he would never speak again. ‘Is that why you’re hiding out on the island? Did you think I would try to force myself on you?’ His voice was hard now.

  ‘No!’ He’d cared about her, cooked for her and she’d run because she’d wanted him to hold her, wanted him to make love to her. ‘No, Kam. And I’m not hiding. I just needed somewhere peaceful to think.’

  ‘And I have disturbed you.’ Beyond imagining... ‘What conclusion did you reach?’

  She swallowed. ‘That I’d be more comfortable with...with what you said.’ If she hadn’t loved him, it wouldn’t matter. But to give herself to him so totally and discover that he was playing her would destroy her. ‘You are so clear what you want,’ she rushed on
, a little desperately, before he could answer. ‘I had to work out what I need.’

  ‘And, apart from the turkey baster, what have you decided?’ His voice was even, controlled.

  He was getting everything he wanted, she reminded herself. She wasn’t being unreasonable, not that he was suggesting that she was. However, a reserve had entered his voice.

  She tried to speak, had to clear her throat before she could answer.

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  ‘Text me a list when you’re done. It doesn’t have to be exhaustive. I’m not going to say that if it’s not on the list you can’t have it. I want this to work for both of us.’

  This was ghastly. Embarrassment off the scale. ‘Kam...’

  ‘The main reason I rang is to tell you that I have to go to London tomorrow.’

  He was brisk now, matter-of-fact as he cut her off. Just as well—she had no idea what she could say.

  I want you so much my bones ache?

  He talked of pride. She was hanging onto hers by a thread.

  ‘Since we have to give twenty-eight days’ clear notice of marriage,’ he continued, ‘I suggest we go to the register office first thing tomorrow so that we can set the wheels in motion. You’ll need your birth certificate or passport.’

  ‘You looked it up?’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘I’m in the wedding business, at least I hope to be. I researched the subject thoroughly before I applied for a licence to use the chapel.’

  ‘Of course you did. You always had a notebook with you. Lists... The big question is can you arrange a knock-your-socks-off wedding in four weeks?’

  Knock...?

  ‘I...’ More throat clearing was required because this wouldn’t be just any wedding. It would be her wedding. Miss Prideaux of Priddy Castle to Kamal Faulkner, the son of her grandparents’ cook.

  It was a great story.

  If she played it for all it was worth she would get at least one of the lifestyle magazines interested. With a publicity shy multimillionaire as the groom, she could probably entice any one of them to run a feature.

  It was going to have to be spectacular.

  Style over substance.

  ‘There will have to be an element of smoke and mirrors to hide the flaws,’ she warned. ‘A lot of fairy lights. The organ doesn’t work so we’d need a string quartet. Enough flowers to fill a carnival float. All seen through a soft-focus lens.’

  ‘I’ll organise a local group to play for dancing, later,’ he said. ‘Let me know what you want for a first dance.’

  Instantly a favourite song from her youth filled her head. She’d played it incessantly that summer, acting out her role as a teenage drama queen, until her grandfather had thrown her MP3 player into the creek and threatened to throw her after it.

  Definitely not that one, no matter how appropriate the lyrics felt right now. The last thing she wanted to think about was him holding her, dancing to something romantic, something that they would have to practise.

  ‘You’re the musician. You decide.’ Before he could offer any suggestions she said, ‘I’ll have enough to do organising the wedding. A fairground ride is always popular, maybe a butterfly release and charity donations instead of gifts.’

  ‘Whatever you like,’ he said. ‘Just remember that it’s not just a showcase for your business. It’s your wedding.’

  Her wedding?

  ‘It’s your wedding too,’ she reminded him, just about keeping the sharpness out of her voice.

  ‘Yes, of course. I didn’t—’

  ‘Is there anything you’d like?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘A whisky bar, clay-pigeon shooting for people who stay over and make a weekend of it. A treasure hunt. A river trip with a champagne picnic...’

  ‘No shooting, but maybe a treasure hunt, and a river picnic trip sounds good.’

  ‘I’ll need a guest list from you.’ Then, because she couldn’t leave it any longer, ‘I’m going to have to pay deposits, Kam, and I don’t have any credit.’

  ‘I’ll sort that out first thing tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘This is a two-way partnership, Agnès. I don’t need thanks. I’ll meet you in the car park at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

  They were going to arrange their wedding and, no matter what her concerns about his motives, he was giving her a great deal and she had to give him something back. Something meaningful.

  ‘I’ll be on the beach at seven. Meet me there. Without the dogs.’ She didn’t wait for him to ask why but ended the call.

  A few moments later her phone pinged to let her know that she had a text message. It was his number. Nothing else.

  For a while she sat with her tablet on her knee, staring into the fire, trying not to think how different this ending could have been.

  She was right. She knew she was.

  The fact that he’d accepted her decision so easily suggested that he had other options. Someone he was rushing up to London to see, perhaps. Someone to whom he was going to have to explain the situation.

  And she’d just made it easy for him with her ‘no sex’ stipulation.

  Would another woman accept the situation? Believe it was going to be a marriage in name only? Would she?

  Her mind recoiled from the emotional pit that gaped before her at the very thought of him being close to another woman while he was with her.

  This was an old-fashioned arranged marriage; it was all about property and inheritance. She had to forget romance and focus on what it would mean for everyone who worked at the castle. Her grandmother. The fact that it would preserve the estate from development.

  She needed to concentrate on the list.

  She’d attach the surveyor’s report on the roof when she sent it to Kam. She was sure he had a good idea of the problems, but she was determined that he could never be able to say that she’d hidden the truth from him. Not about the castle, anyway.

  Her emotions were her own business.

  Maybe, having slept on it, he’d go straight to London in the morning and look for somewhere less troublesome for his city kids.

  London?

  Hold on...

  She took out her phone and texted.

  What were you thinking of doing with Henry while you’re in London?

  His reply was swift. Almost as if he’d been sitting there, waiting for her to catch up.

  I wasn’t sure how he’d be in a car so Suz offered to look after him.

  Suz? He’d been talking to Suz?

  She swallowed. Why wouldn’t he? It was her job to take care of the needs of a guest. It was stupid to be hurt because he hadn’t asked her. After the way she’d reacted, why would he?

  She sent another text.

  Just checking. I’ll see you in the morning.

  You do know that you don’t have to stay over there on the island?

  About to reply that she didn’t ‘have’ to do anything, she stopped herself. That so wasn’t true.

  She had to marry him. Have his baby.

  Why did you come over here? she texted.

  Why did you?

  Before she could even think of an answer that didn’t betray her, he sent another message.

  That’s a rhetorical question, btw.

  She frowned, confused. She was there to avoid him. Why would he want to avoid her?

  No. Don’t go there.

  The list. Concentrate on the list.

  Once she’d sent it to him she turned her thoughts to the wedding. Despite what he’d said, she had to forget that it was her wedding. It was going to be the showcase for the castle as a must-have wedding location and had to be perfect.

  Burnt orange was the in colour this season. She would have to research roses to f
ind the best colour—maybe Super Trouper or Sparkle. She’d set them against the sharp lime-green of alchemilla mollis. Orange ribbons for the pew ends. Bridesmaids?

  Suzanna and some little girls whose families had a connection with the castle. She grinned. Jimmy, the heating engineer who had done so much for her boiler, had twin six-year-olds.

  Ivory dresses with orange sashes because ivory was the colour of the dress her mother had worn. And her mother before her. And her mother before that. Soft ivory lace with a long lace veil held in place by the tiara from the Prideaux parure.

  Fake diamonds for a fake wedding.

  For a moment she thought it had begun to rain, then she realised that the drops on her screen were her tears.

  For a moment she gave in to the pity tears, sitting in the dark with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, wishing Kam were there to hold her, reassure her, tell her that it would be all right.

  That was never going to happen. If it was going to be all right, it would be because she made it so, and she wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and then made up the fire.

  A moth danced close to the flames but was wafted away on the rising heat before it became toasted. In the distance a tawny owl began to make its long, ghost-like hoots and she crawled into the bivouac, snuggled up in Kam’s sleeping bag and lay wrapped in his scent, listening to the tiny rustling of small creatures, until she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The registrar has been booked, the date set for Saturday the first of June. Jimmy’s daughters and Pam and Sandra’s granddaughters are going to be bridesmaids, I’ve booked a carousel, a butterfly release and the vintage steamer Queen of the Creek for a lunch trip on the day after the wedding for those guests who are staying on. The editor of a celebrity gossip magazine offered to pay for the honeymoon if they could have an exclusive to cover the wedding. That is never going to happen. They’d send a photographer to follow us around, wanting intimate pictures of the two of us together. We compromised on photographs of preparations for the wedding ahead of the day in return for a sizable donation to charity.

  Agnès Prideaux’s Journal