Claiming His Wife

Lost in disquieting thoughts, unprepared for his next question, she gave a shocked gasp as he asked levelly, 'Tell me, did you marry me for money?'

'What put that in your head?' she demanded when she could get her mouth to frame the words. 'So I'm a gold-digger now, as well as a slut!'

'It was suggested. Before our marriage.'

'Who by?' she spluttered hotly. 'One of your aunts, at a guess—neither of them liked me!'

'I refused to believe it at the time,' he stated, as if she hadn't spoken. 'You were sweet, unspoiled; you didn't demand designer dresses or fancy jew­els—the exact opposite of the society creatures I was used to having pushed under my nose. I had a hard enough time persuading you to let me buy your wed­ding dress and a suitable trousseau. Do you remem­ber?'

Of course she remembered! He'd already dis­charged those of her father's debts that the sale of the house hadn't covered, and she hadn't wanted to be a further drain on him, even if he could well af­ford it.

She and Roy hadn't had much, but they could have pooled their resources. She could have kitted herself out with something his exalted family wouldn't have been too ashamed to see her wearing. But, no, even that amount of independence had been denied her!

'So what changed your mind?' she demanded fu­riously. If he wanted a fight, he could have one, even if the thought of being at odds with him tore her apart. 'Just when have I ever asked you for money?'

'Our wedding night, and the years that followed,' he answered flatly. "That changed my mind. You weren't interested in me as a husband, the father of your children. You were free of those debts you felt morally bound to discharge, and as soon as enough time had passed for you to be sure your brother was settled, drawing a healthy salary, you ran away, in­forming me that you'd be suing for divorce. I did wonder then if laying your hands on a hefty chunk of alimony had been your intention all along.'

He spread his hands expressively. 'What else was I to think? It was the only explanation that made any kind of sense. And of course,' he added with a dry-ness that sent a shaft of pain through her heart, 'the only reason you are here with me now, allowing me to use your body, comes down to money—stolen money.'

That he should think her a mercenary little gold-digger incensed her, but she clamped her soft lips together and forced back the blistering words she wanted to throw at him. He did have a point.

And now, if nothing else came of their time to­gether, he had to hear her side of the story.

'I was never interested in your money,' she told him shortly. 'I was grateful when you offered to pay the outstanding debts—especially when you insisted that the sum involved represented no more to you than the loose change in your pocket. It meant that the remaining creditors didn't have to suffer—that Roy and I wouldn't have to live on the breadline, taking what jobs we could get to pay off the rest of the debts. So I guess, where that was concerned, I took the easy way out.

'But,' she emphasised firmly, 'if I hadn't been madly in love with you I would never have married you. Roy and I would have gone back to England and found some kind of work.' She gave him a fierce glare. If he was worried she might demand half his wretched estate, then she could put him out of his misery.

These last few weeks together had meant nothing to him, apart from fantastic sex—which was proba­bly already beginning to bore him.

Been there, done that!

Otherwise why would he be trying to pick a fight, as good as accusing her of marrying him for his money?

'I have no intention of asking for a single peseta on our divorce!'

Why was she talking of divorce when for the past few weeks she'd been hoping that their marriage was mended? she groaned silently. The knot of misery behind her breastbone tightened, spread down into her stomach. She felt distinctly queasy. And she knew the answer to her own question. Of course she did. He wouldn't be throwing these vile accusations at her if he wanted their marriage to continue.

She stumbled to her feet. Everything was going wrong. When they'd wandered down through the gardens this morning everything had been touched with magic, and now—

A commanding hand closed around her wrist, halting her attempts at a dignified flight, edging her back onto the seat beside him.

'You said, and I quote, that you were "madly in love" with me when we married—I believe you are lying because I saw no evidence of it.'

It was an accusation; of course it was. But gently said. His fingers slid away from her wrist. Meaning she was free to go now he'd made his point? Meaning she could defend herself or not? That he was indifferent?

Any moment now she would burst into tears and humiliate herself. She could feel her lungs tremble, the pressure building up in her throat and behind her eyes. But she wasn't going to let it happen.

'You already know the truth, Roman. But I'll re­fresh your memory.' The words emerged more acidly than she'd intended. Deliberately, she pulled in a slow breath and softened her tone. 'When we mar­ried, I was an anachronism—a nineteenth-century woman living in the late twentieth. I was brought up by a domineering father, convent-educated, and had no experience of men—barring Father, Roy, and Cindy's brother, of course. Father thought females were put on this earth to be of use to males, and for no other reason.'

She took a gulp of hot coffee and replaced the cup with a clatter that threatened to break the saucer. 'When I left school at eighteen, he used the strength of his character, plus a large dollop of emotional blackmail, to convince me it was my duty to stay home and replace the part-time housekeeper he'd had employed after Mum died. So when I met you, fell in love, my self-confidence was already about floor level. I'd fallen for you in a big way, but I knew you were way out of my league—wealthy, sophisticated, oozing with self-confidence. Everything I wasn't.'

But she'd married him anyway, because she'd been so in love with him it had hurt. She'd known he hadn't loved her, but she'd had his affection, and that had seemed very much better than having any other man's doting adoration.

'So I was the object of a rather belated juvenile infatuation.' He dismissed the love that had swamped her life with a tired smile. 'What went wrong? I did everything possible to see that you were comfortable, free from anxieties. Did I not try to ease you into your new role, your new lifestyle?'

'Ease?' she scorned. 'Leaving me with your mother and the aunts while you flew to England—?'

'It was for the best,' Roman said bluntly. 'I had to sort out the financial mess your father had left behind. Seeing the family home sold up, dealing with lawyers and creditors would have upset you unnec­essarily. It was far more important that you got to know my family—your new family—better, accli­matised yourself, began arrangements for our wed­ding. So please don't try to accuse me of doing the wrong thing.'