And the Bride Wore Black

‘I suggest you leave now, Brian.’ She stood her ground and he shambled to a halt, picking nervously at his nails as he faced her.

‘Why?’ Again she felt that stab of fear but kept her voice cool and firm as she spoke.

‘Because my new boyfriend would be most upset to find you bothering me and, as you can imagine, he is rich enough to buy and sell you ten times over. He could make things very unpleasant for you, believe me; he knows people.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ The threat had worked, it was there in the reddening of his plump face.

‘Yes.’ She looked at him hard.

‘You mean you’re seeing him again?’ he said s

lowly.

‘Yes, I am,’ she said quickly, too quickly; he caught the inflexion in her voice as she spoke the lie.

‘I don’t believe you.’ He looked at her hard. ‘Men like him don’t bother with the likes of you once they’ve had their fun.’ She agreed perfectly with the sentiment but wasn’t about to let him know that.

‘As it happens I’m spending Christmas with him, OK?’ she said firmly. ‘And please get out, Brian, I’m getting cold standing here talking to you.’ The ease with which the lie had fallen from her lips plus her matter-of-fact tone seemed to defuse the situation and he glanced at her again before walking slowly to the open door.

‘Huh!’ What exactly the exclamation was meant to express she didn’t know and didn’t care as she shut the door quickly, sliding the bolt in place for extra comfort.

What a creep! She found she was shaking slightly as she ran a shower, sleep being a million miles away now. The warm water did a lot to calm her and as she dressed slowly she began to berate herself for being panicked into telling such a ridiculous story. She wasn’t going anywhere with anyone—especially not Alexander Cade. Still, no one would be any the wiser, she thought comfortably after a time as she made herself tea and toast, and it had served a purpose. She had been looking for a way to get through to Brian for weeks and it looked as though it had been dropped in her lap. She ought to be grateful to Alex really.

She spent a lazy day at home doing a hundred and one jobs she had been putting off for weeks, ringing Joanie in the evening and putting her mind at rest before falling into bed at the ridiculously early time of nine o’clock, tired out.

She had been invited to spend the Sunday with a married colleague from work whose husband was in Saudi Arabia and meet her children, and she was glad now that she had accepted. They had a wonderful day, lighting a bonfire in the garden in the afternoon after a huge dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and then taking the family dog, a comical little mongrel called Rambo—’You’d know why if you lived with him,’ her friend said wryly—to Hyde Park for a long walk before muffins and tea in front of the fire.

She arrived home late, tired but glowing from a day in the fresh air, to find Alex leaning lazily against the door of her flat as she stepped out of the lift.

‘Good evening, Fabia.’ His voice stopped her in her tracks and as she met the cool gold eyes she was aware of Brian’s door being slightly ajar. ‘I’ve just been having a little chat with your neighbour. Seedy individual, isn’t he?’ The door closed with a definite click and she glanced at Alex’s face to see he was smiling wryly. ‘I’ve warned him off in no uncertain terms. I’m afraid he won’t dare speak to you again. Right or wrong?’

‘Dead right and long overdue.’ She looked at him carefully. ‘What has he been saying?’

‘I’ve no intention of having a conversation in the middle of this corridor,’ he said coolly. ‘Shall we...?’ He indicated her front door with a wave of his hand and she had no choice but to step past him and unlock it. ‘Now...’ He looked at her tightly as she shut the front door. ‘I understand I shall have the pleasure of your company at Christmas? A delightful prospect.’ His eyes were speculative as they met her shocked blue gaze, narrowing slightly in silent enquiry at the stunned expression on her face. ‘That is what you told love’s young dream next door?’ She had forgotten how devastatingly handsome he was.

‘Yes, no; I didn’t mean...’ Her voice trailed away helplessly. ‘I just...’ She stopped again.

‘Yes?’ She couldn’t read anything from his bland face and as her mind searched for a way out of what had turned into a monstrous parody she finally decided she would have to tell him the truth. There was absolutely no way she was going to spend Christmas as his leading lady in some macabre play so the only alternative was to explain things properly and throw herself on his mercy. Mercy? She shut her eyes briefly and then took courage and glanced at him carefully under her eyelashes. He had been relatively reasonable up to now considering the circumstances of their first encounter, and he had left the choice of whether she accompany him to Cumbria or not up to her, so it should be all right. Shouldn’t it?

Just for a moment, as she looked directly at him, there was something quite ruthless in the brilliant golden-brown eyes that made her shiver, but when she looked again his face appeared quite bland, even pleasant, and she gave herself a little admonitory shake. You’re getting paranoid, she told herself firmly, and it’s got to stop.

‘Fabia? Shall we be seated?’ He settled himself comfortably into an easy-chair as he spoke, crossing one leg over his knee as his hands stretched along the back of the chair. For some reason the action seemed intimidating, perhaps because it highlighted the strong muscular shoulders, broad chest and long powerful legs. She gulped silently.

She had never met a man whose masculinity was worn so powerfully before; it was almost tangible, virile and dangerous, and she didn’t like the tremors that snaked down her spine, she didn’t like them at all. She didn’t want to respond to the message his body was sending to her femininity. He was the enemy—all his type were. ‘Well?’ he said softly when she still didn’t speak. ‘Let’s have it.’

‘What?’ She stared at him in consternation. ‘What do you mean?’ Was he psychic as well?

‘That’s for you to tell me,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve been like a cat on a hot tin roof since you came in. What’s wrong?’ He smiled slowly. ‘Or is it my animal magnetism?’

‘Alex...’ She leant forward imploringly, her hair glowing like liquid gold in the shadowed room and her blue eyes enormous. ‘It’s all a mistake, about me coming to Cumbria with you, I mean. I never meant you to know, I only told Brian—’ She paused helplessly. She wasn’t making a very good job of this, she thought miserably, searching her mind for a way to explain things that wouldn’t make a bad situation ten times worse.

‘I think you’d better start at the beginning.’ In her anxiety she didn’t notice the coldness in his soft voice or the way the teasing glow had died from his eyes, leaving them two hard chips of yellow glass. ‘Let’s have it all.’

So she told him, stumbling a little and keeping her eyes on her hands clenched into fists and when at last she ground to a halt she waited a moment before raising her face to meet his gaze. What she saw there made her blood run cold. If she had thought he was angry that first night it was mere irritation compared to the black rage that had his whole body in a tight grip now. He was furiously, violently angry.

‘You really are priceless.’ The words were ground out slowly through gritted teeth, a savagery in his voice that made her breath catch nervously in her throat. ‘An absolute twenty-four-carat winner.’ She shrank back in her chair as he came to crouch over her, his face twisted into a black satanic mask and his eyes flashing fire. ‘What do you think I am? First you attempt to make me the laughing stock of London with that cute little trick you pulled, losing me a great deal of money in the process, and then you duck out and vanish into thin air, leaving me with the proverbial egg on my face! Not content with that you now propose to use me in some duplicitous plan of your own without even informing me I’m bailing you out. I can’t believe you, I really can’t believe what I’ve just heard.’

‘I told you, Brian—’