And the Bride Wore Black

She knew what he meant but a sudden vision of them both sitting at the magnificent dining-table stark naked brought a smile to her lips and hot colour to her cheeks. Where had that thought come from? ‘OK, see you in a minute,’ she said reluctantly, suddenly realising that without Isabella’s presence the meal would become subtly more intimate.

She dressed simply in a plain blue dress that perfectly matched the colour of her eyes, adding tiny gold studs to her ears and a small dab of perfume to her wrists. She debated on whether to put her hair up but a tiny nagging memory of a long white neck and gleaming black hair coiled perfectly in place decided her against it. She would not lower herself to compete for a prize she had no intention of claiming anyway!

He was sitting in one of the easy-chairs at the bottom of the curving staircase as she made her way downstairs, rising instantly he heard her approach, his hard handsome face unreadable. ‘You look lovely, Fabia,’ he said softly. ‘One can’t improve on perfection but perhaps you’d like to wear this anyway.’ He handed her a small transparent box through which the creamy furled petals of an exotic orchid were visible.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful, Alex.’ She looked up into his face in delight, the flawless purity of the hothouse flower touching something deep inside her.

‘They had more brilliant colours and shapes but that one seemed right for you.’ He took the bloom out of its box and she saw that the petals were veined with faint blue and gold towards the centre of the flower, culminating in a deep vibrant violet at its heart. ‘The correct name is unpronouncable but it’s known as unawakened,’ he said blandly as he fixed the orchid carefully on her dress, his hands accidentally brushing the side of her breast as he did so and causing a deep heat to rise in her flesh. He seemed quite oblivious to her agitation, taking a strand of long corn-coloured hair in his fingers and letting the smooth silk slip through them as he finished.

‘Thank you.’ She stepped back a pace as she spoke, her hand nervously touching the flower as she stared, unsmiling now, into the sombre darkness of his face. He had discarded the formal dinner jacket he usually wore for light trousers and a pale Aran sweater, the cream of the wool throwing his tanned skin and rich brown hair into stark contrast, and somehow emphasising his great height. He looked powerful and dangerous and irresistibly attractive and the blood drummed crazily in her ears as he took her hand and led her into the dimly lit dining-room.

The table was beautifully decorated in Christmas colours of red and green, the glittering silver cutlery and fine crystal glassware enriched with looped scrolled ribbons and sprays of holly, the centrepiece a magnificent arrangement of sweet-smelling deep red roses, red and green ribbon and soft feathery fern.

‘Mary does tend to go overboard at Christmas,’ Alex said drily as he pulled out the chair for her to sit down. ‘Would you like a sherry or a glass of wine before we eat? Dinner will be promptly served in exactly,’ he consulted the heavy gold watch on his wrist, ‘eight minutes if I know anything about this household.’

‘A sherry, please.’ She was feeling distinctly uncomfortable and painfully shy and both sensations made her jumpy. He seemed different tonight somehow, although she didn’t know why. She was just conscious of the fact that every inflexion of his voice, every little movement he made, registered on her taut nerves like an electric shock.

As he placed the glass of sherry in her hand he slipped a long gold package on the table at the side of her fork. ‘Merry Christmas.’ She raised startled eyes to find him looking down at her with that strange expression on his face she had seen once or twice before and once again it was swiftly veiled as he caught her glance.

‘What is it?’ She looked down at the box as though it were alive.

‘Open it and see,’ he said lightly, turning away from her and walking round to his place at the table opposite her, his big body easy and his face closed.

‘Alex! I can’t possibly accept this!’ She stared down at the brilliant solitaire diamond surrounded by a little star of lacy gold fixed on a thin gold chain. It flashed its radiance from a bed of deep blue velvet and she almost stopped breathing as she thought of what the exquisitely wrought necklace must have cost. Why had he done this? The flower had been a piercingly sweet gesture, but this? This was a whole different ball-game.

‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked mildly as he sipped a glass of wine slowly. ‘You are at liberty to change it for something else if you like.’

‘It’s not that, you know it’s not that,’ she said quickly. ‘No woman could fail to appreciate such a beautiful thing, but I can’t possibly accept it. It must have cost a fortune.’

‘The cost is incidental.’ He leant forward suddenly, his eyes tight on her face. ‘The flower reminded me of you and so did this, that’s all there was to it. I saw them and liked them and it has given me pleasure to acquire them for you. Do you understand?’

‘Alex...’ She shook her head helplessly, her soft golden hair shining like silk. ‘That’s not the point. It’s far, far too expensive. What would people think?’

‘Does it matter?’ The golden gaze narrowed. ‘It’s no one’s business but our own. Do you really care what people think?’

She dropped her eyes before the directness, frightened her face would reveal her thoughts. She didn’t care what misconstruction other people might put on the gift, it was true. That abrasive fire she had passed through all those years ago with Robin had cleansed her forever of needing people’s approval. As long as she was right in her own heart nothing else had mattered since that purifying time. It wasn’t the nameless crowd that worried her but him. She was worried what he would think if she accepted such a valuable present. Robin had tried to buy her in just the same way although she had been too naïve then to understand. She had no such excuse now. She couldn’t accept the gift.

‘I’m sorry, Alex.’ She raised bruised blue eyes to meet his waiting face. ‘It was very kind of you but I can’t take this.’ She snapped the lid shut and proffered the box to him. ‘The flower is lovely—can we just leave it at that?’

He looked at her for a long moment, the rapier-sharp eyes boring into her mind as a coldness settled over the chiselled features, and then shook his head slowly. ‘You think I’m trying to coax you into my bed with something like that?’ His hand flicked scornfully at the box she still held. ‘That I’m trying to tempt you into selling yourself? You do, don’t you? Don’t deny it.’

‘I wouldn’t deny it.’ She held his glance bravely. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time someone in your position did something like that with a woman.’

‘Well, it sure as hell would be the first time I did,’ he snarled savagely, rising from the table violently and striding across to the huge full-length windows, pulling the heavy velvet curtains aside and standing with his back towards her, looking out into the snow-covered gardens beyond. She heard him swear softly to himself and then long minutes ticked by as he stood unmoving and she too remained like a statue, all thoughts numbed by the sudden storm. She heard him take a long deep breath as his shoulders straightened and then he turned to face her, his eyes hooded.

‘That was the last thing on my mind, Fabia,’ he said quietly. ‘I know you well enough by now to understand that my wealth works against me, not for me, where you are concerned. I don’t like the picture of me you have in your mind. I’m trying to understand, make allowances, but you sure don’t make it easy. When I hold you in my arms your body tells me one thing but the rest of the time—’ He stopped abruptly. ‘What is it, Fabia? What makes you hate me?’

‘I don’t hate you, Alex,’ she said painfully, the numbness melting in the face of his unexpected gentleness. ‘I don’t even know you—’

‘Exactly.’ He stared at her, his brow furrowed as his eyes bored into hers. ‘And you don’t intend to try to rectify that, do you.’ It wasn’t a question and she didn’t try to answer it, her eyes falling down as her head lowered.

‘Keep the pendant.’ Her gaze raised to meet his. ‘I would like to think of you wearing it some time, that’s all. It’s a Christmas gift, a thank-you for coming here with me if you like. You said you wouldn’t accept any payment and I’ve taken a week of your time and placed you in difficult circumstances. Keep it.’

‘Oh, Alex...’ Her voice was soft but his face had set into

harsh cold lines and he didn’t look at her again as he resumed his place at the table, his movements abrupt. She had hurt him, she realised in amazement. Offended him.

As Mary served the first course, her round plump face beaming and a sprig of holly fixed in the tight knot on the top of her head, Fabia sat in miserable silence, her head spinning. There was Susan, and maybe others like her, and yet he seemed so...sincere. But then maybe he was, she thought grimly, sincere in wanting a brief affair with her, sincere in telling her exactly where she stood from the word go, sincere in letting her see Susan. He hadn’t tried to keep Susan from her and maybe he honestly believed he wasn’t trying to buy her, but it all boiled down to the same thing in the end. As she spooned the delicious rich beef soup into her mouth her resolve strengthened. She couldn’t be what he wanted her to be and if she tried the only person who would get hurt was her. She sensed instinctively that, if she had found the episode with Robin hard, this man could destroy her. She wasn’t sure why—she kept the door to that avenue of thought firmly closed—but she knew it.