Millionaire's Woman

‘Cory, none of my other girlfriends have been remotely like you,’ he said very drily. ‘None of them refused to have anything to do with me until I had to resort to blackmail to get a date; none of them viewed me with suspicion and downright dislike; none of them had me walking the floor at night

and having cold showers like they were going out of fashion, and none of them nearly took my nose off with one of my own doors. Having said that—’ he adjusted her more comfortably on his lap, stroking her hair back from her damp, blotchy face ‘—none of them were as sweet as honey without a trace of malice in the whole of their bodies; none of them cared about struggling families and folk who couldn’t do a thing in return for them, and certainly none of them would have thought about clearing up for a tired old woman who needed to put her feet up.’

‘Your mother isn’t old and she would kill you for saying so,’ Cory said shakily.

‘A tired woman then.’ He smiled at her. A heavenly smile. ‘And none of them have given me the run-around like you, sending me away and then welcoming me back in a manner that took my breath away.’

She looked at him, unsure if he meant it or not.

‘Now, I repeat, what’s this about my not wanting commitment?’ he asked softly.

‘You don’t. You never have.’ She stared at him earnestly. ‘You told me so, and when you were talking to Margaret today—’ She stopped. This was what being truthful led to.

‘You heard us?’ He pulled her to him, kissing her hard before he said, ‘There is absolutely nothing between Margaret and I; there never has been, not really. A couple of summers ago I took her for dinner a few times, to the theatre and things like that, but that was all. It didn’t go any further.’

‘You didn’t go to bed with her?’

‘I’d as soon bed the wicked witch of the west.’ He kissed her again. ‘That was never on the cards, not with Margaret. She knew that from the start. But she was a bit low—her own fault, there had been a divorce case in which she was named as the scarlet woman—and I provided a shoulder to cry on.’

She smiled. ‘I’m glad you didn’t.’

‘I’m glad you’re glad.’ He brushed her mouth with his lips. ‘And, as for me not wanting commitment, that was the bilge I talked before I met you. Don’t you know that?’

She shook her head, not daring to hope he was saying what it sounded like he was saying.

He groaned. ‘Look at me, woman. I’m a nervous wreck. Do you think I’d put up with what I’ve put up with if I wasn’t head over heels in love with you? I’ve never waited for any woman like I have you; I’ve never had to,’ he added wryly.

Now that she could believe. They queued up for Nick Morgan.

His mouth sought hers and he kissed her with increasing ardour, his hands moving over her body, caressing and fondling. He raised his head. ‘What are these things made of?’ he asked, glancing at the pyjamas with definite dislike.

‘I don’t know. Something woolly.’

‘You won’t be wearing anything like that on our honeymoon.’

‘What?’ Her eyes stretched wide. She couldn’t have heard right.

‘I’m asking you to marry me, darling Cory.’ Suddenly he was deadly serious. ‘I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to fill our house in Barnstaple with lots of little Corys and one or two Nicks. I want to make up to you for what your parents did and convince you you’re loved more than you’d have dreamt possible. Every morning or our lives I want to tell you that Iadore and worship you. I want to take all the bad memories out of here—’ he touched her forehead with a gentle finger ‘—and fill it with joy. Will you let me? Will you let me do that?’

She nodded wordlessly, incapable of uttering a sound.

‘I wanted to tell you all this after we’d talked in the walled garden,’ he said, ‘but I was going to lead in to it slowly. The damage your parents did—’ he shook his head ‘—I knew it would take time to diminish and I’d rushed in like a bull in a china shop. It had all happened too fast for you, hadn’t it?’

His insight amazed her, especially as she hadn’t looked at it that way herself. But it was true. Again she nodded. And finally she told him the words he’d been waiting to hear. ‘I love you,’ she said. ‘With all my heart.’

‘And I you, my darling. Never doubt it. You’re my sun, moon and stars. Flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone. My special, funny, beautiful, incomparable Cory.’

‘And you’re my Nick.’

She put her arms around him and the blue eyes smiled.

The Millionaire’s Runaway Bride

By

Catherine George

Catherine George was born on the border between Wales and England, in a village blessed with both a public and a lending library, and fervently encouraged by a like-minded mother she early developed an addiction to reading.