His smile acknowledged her less than deft change of subject. ‘It is a once only occasion.’
‘Some day you’ll go through it for real,’ she forecast.
Dane emitted a soft laugh. ‘No way! That’s one charade I don’t plan to play a part in.’
‘Ever?’ she prompted, a spasm of sadness passing over her, regret that he would never let anyone get that close.
‘I don’t feel any overwhelming need to duplicate myself in the next generation, either.’ He surveyed her mockingly. ‘Whereas I suspect you can’t wait.’
She flushed. ‘Why shouldn’t I want a baby? I don’t need to apologise for that.’
His expressive mouth quirked. ‘Claire, you’re a breath of fresh air.’
She tilted her chin. ‘It’ll be the first time in my life that I have a real sense of belonging.’
‘Max just being a useful means to an end?’ he taunted. ‘Rather him than me. Forgive me, but I had this no doubt peculiar impression that love was much more highflown than basic reproduction.’
‘Since neither desire has bitten you, you can’t feel qualified to pass judgement,’ she riposted, but his cool taunt had none the less plunged her into uneasy self-examination.
Certainly the thought of a family and a home loomed large in her relationship with Max. However, theirs wasn’t the passionate bond that the movies and books represented love to be. Claire wasn’t sure she really believed love like that existed in real life. Love to her was quiet and enduring and based on mutual goals that would bind two people into a partnership. It sounded resoundingly practical. And that was how she was in her own opinion.
At his smile she simmered. Dane had no respect for marriage, commitment or for her own sex. Bearing all that in mind, she reckoned she shouldn’t be criticising. Had he felt differently, he would never have agreed to this.
The civil ceremony was to take place in an unremarkable town hall in the Paris suburbs, the key word being discretion. As they entered the building, Claire suddenly put her hand on Dane’s sleeve, for Lew was several steps ahead of them. ‘It’s not too late if you want to change your mind,’ she broached, uneasy about the way in which she was imposing on him. ‘I did sort of corner you into this.’
With a blunt fingertip he pushed the attractive silver-grey glasses she wore higher on her small nose. ‘No one corners me.’ Smiling, he gently turned her round to let her see the small woman anxiously waiting across the foyer. ‘And I think any last-minute change of plans might upset a certain person.’
‘Maisie …’ Claire whispered uncertainly and a second later her doubts were forgotten. She was much too busy accepting the old lady’s hug and returning one of her own and exclaiming over the pretty bunch of flowers Maisie was proffering.
‘I stayed in a lovely hotel last night, and the car came to collect me this morning again!’ It was clear she was still in something of a daze to find herself in Paris. ‘And to be here for the ceremony!’ She squeezed Claire’s hand wordlessly and swallowed.
‘I think we’d better go in, Mrs Morley,’ Dane interposed.
‘Thank you.’ Unselfconsciously Claire wiped her eyes. ‘This means so much … even if it’s not real.’
‘Hell, it feels real enough to me!’ Dane breathed above her head. ‘Anyway, I thought you’d relax more with a friend here.’
It had been so very kind of him to arrange for Maisie to come. And how very like him it was to brush off her surprise and gratitude as if it had been something too trivial to mention.
Twenty-five minutes later it was over. They were leaving the room again when Lew cursed abruptly. ‘How the hell did they find out?’ he raked in a savage undertone.
A half-dozen flashbulbs burst brilliantly in the dim hallway, and there was a sea of suddenly converging bodies and hurled questions. Beside her Dane went very still, but it was Lew’s angry condemnatory glance she was most shaken by. His look implied that she was somehow behind the unexpected intrusion of the noisy, shouting reporters. She didn’t dare look at Dane as she was herded out, and she barely managed to say goodbye to Maisie who Lew hurriedly took in charge.
On the steps Dane hesitated, abruptly spinning her round. ‘Are you responsible for this circus?’ he demanded, anger shimmering rawly in his brilliant gaze.
Her eyes were still following Maisie, her hand lifted in a weak farewell to the old lady who was climbing into another car. Fortunately she hadn’t realised anything was wrong. The immediacy of Dane’s accusation shook her. His next action devastated what remained of her crumbling poise.
In full view of everyone his strong hands trapped her slim body to his and his mouth swooped down, brutally hard on hers, driving the breath from her in a kiss of humiliating punishment. When he freed her, her fingers crept up involuntarily to her bruised lips, her dazed, uncomprehending eyes pinned to his as she tasted the bittersweetness of blood on her tongue.
‘Just get in the car.’ His hand fastened to her forearm and thrust her the rest of the way.
She hunched in the corner, afraid to speak. It was slowly and agonisingly sinking in on her why he was so very angry. Those photographs had blown the secrecy of their marriage of convenience apart. The photos would be splashed all over the newspapers and the glossy magazines. It was a damage which neither words nor actions could undo. In another few hours Dane’s jet-set, socialite acquaintances would be staggered to learn that Dane Visconti had married an incredibly ordinary redhead with neither extravagant beauty nor talent to recommend her.
‘It wasn’t anything to do with me,’ she said finally.
It was not Dane but Lew who answered, which somehow made her feel worse. ‘Someone tipped them off.
She linked her trembling hands. ‘It wasn’t me! For goodness’ sake, why would I do that?’ she appealed.