Marriage Without Love & More Than a Convenient Marriage?

‘Something’s cropped up and I’ve got to get down there,’ Kieron told her as though he had sensed her suspicions. ‘What I came to tell you is that I think I’ve managed to find us a house. Some friends of mine who live in Surrey are going to the States for twelve months and they’re prepared to let their house to us, which should give us time to look round for what we really want. It will also mean that you aren’t exhausting yourself going round estate agents’ offices. What are you going to do about clothes?’

The question caught her off guard.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked stiffly.

His impatient sigh rustled through the space between them.

‘I mean do you want me to organise someone to look after Nicky while you go out and buy yourself a wedding dress? Look, I’m not suggesting white with all the trimmings,’ he said hardily when she flinched, ‘but most women seem to consider marriage an excuse for buying themselves a new outfit.’

‘Well, I’m not most women,’ Briony said tartly. ‘If I wore something appropriate to my mood, I’d probably be dressed in sackcloth and ashes!’

For a moment she thought she had gone too far. Something blazed angrily in his eyes, but as she took a step backwards it faded, to be replaced by a faintly mocking smile, which strangely enough annoyed her more than his anger.

‘You really do believe in making things hard for yourself, don’t you?’ he said softly. ‘Tomorrow you will go out and buy yourself something to be married in. And if you don’t, I shall personally make sure that you do, even if it means stripping you myself and putting your clothes on you. Do you understand?’

He was gone before she could retaliate, leaving her exhausted and drained and yet, curiously, more alive than she had felt in years.

* * *

Kieron certainly didn’t believe in doing things by halves, Briony thought lightheadedly as she sipped her champagne. She had had no idea until after the ceremony that Kieron had arranged a reception at the Savoy.

The wedding itself had been a surprise too. She had somehow expected a simple register office service, and had been caught off guard when the taxi Kieron had organised for her stopped outside her local church.

There had been a moment when they had been making their vows when she had thought fleetingly of how different it could all have been if Kieron had been the man she had once thought, but she had banished it as being stupidly romantic, concentrating instead of the real reasons for their alliance.

‘Well, well, you are a dark horse, aren’t you?’ Gail eyed her assessingly. ‘Who would have thought it?’

‘Who would have thought what?’ Kieron drawled, suddenly materialising at Briony’s side, the arm he slid deliberately round her waist making her stiffen, her eyes flashing resentfully.

‘Cross already, sweetheart?’ His mouth laughed, but his eyes were warning her against defiance. ‘I promise I’ll stay right here at your side for the rest of the day—and the night.’

Anger burned up under her skin, Gail forgotten as she turned impulsively towards him intending to demand that he let her go, but her objections were stifled under the warmth of his mouth, his voice a silky whisper as he murmured:

‘Remember, we’ve just been married. Everyone expects us to look happy. It’s all very romantic. You don’t want everyone thinking I was forced to marry you to give Nicky a name, do you? Because that’s what they’ll think.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she didn’t care, but she swallowed the impetuous words.

‘Goodness, Kieron, I never realised you were so demonstrative,’ Gail said with a brittle smile. ‘And I thought I knew you so well!’ She flashed Briony a look of pure malice and added softly, ‘Is it true, Briony, that you have a child? I couldn’t believe it when Kieron told me. I’ve always thought of you as such a little goody-goody. Heaven knows what poor Matt will do when he hears! He’s practically distraught with the news that you and Kieron are marrying.’

‘Not “a child”, Gail,’ Kieron’s deep voice drawled, ‘but my child.’ Briony felt him look at her. ‘I suppose we’d better make a clean breast of it, darling, we can’t hide something like Nicky.’

Briony’s hands clenched into small fists. The falsity of the situation sickened her. When she had agreed to marry him she had never dreamed that she would be expected to play the part of the blushing bride.

‘Don’t stop there,’ Gail urged. ‘Heavens, it all sounds like a fairy story!’

‘Not really,’ Kieron shrugged. ‘Briony and I quarrelled before she knew she was expecting Nicky, and she was too proud to tell me what had happened. When I came back to this country and we met again, we found ourselves falling in love with one another for a second time, and the discovery that Briony had had my child was the final gilt to the gingerbread.’

‘Kieron tells me you’re giving up work,’ Gail said to Briony, who had remained silent through Kieron’s highly edited version of what had happened. ‘Won’t you be bored to tears?’

Briony stiffened, resenting her patronising tone, but Kieron answered for her, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looked down at her flushed face.

‘Oh, I think we could find a remedy for that,’ he said smoothly. ‘We don’t want Nicky to be an only child.’

Briony was glad that someone else claimed Gail’s attention. ‘I don’t.…’ she began heatedly, only to be silenced by the firm fingers Kieron laid against her lips.

‘No man likes being laughed at,’ he told her. ‘I want it clearly understood that Nicky is my child, just as I want it clearly understood that you are now my wife. I like the outfit, by the way,’ he added carelessly, his eyes resting deliberately on the soft swell of her breasts beneath her cream silk suit.

She had told herself that she would not buy anything special, but somehow or other she had found herself buying this silk chiffon three-piece with its pencil-slim skirt and brief camisole top under a delicately pleated long-sleeved jacket. The pale colour set off her hair, making it seem more red than usual and her eyes a more vivid green, and as Kieron looked at her she was uncomfortably conscious that beneath the thin chiffon top she was wearing nothing at all. The camisole was too brief and thin to wear over a bra, and in impatient haste when she dressed she had worn it without giving a thought to any possible consequences.