His Untamed Innocent (12 page)

Then the door opened and Sadie came bustling in. ‘Madam’s waiting to say goodbye,’ she announced. ‘She has a meeting this evening—the village-hall committee.’

Jake released Marin’s hand and stepped back.

‘We should go too,’ he said. ‘We have things to do in London.’ He looked at her, his blue gaze compelling. ‘Don’t we, darling?’

And she heard herself whisper, ‘Yes.’

Chapter Eleven

‘I’
D LIKE TO
murder him,’ Lynne said furiously. ‘Oh God, he promised me—he swore that he’d look after you—that you’d be safe with him.’

Marin said in a low voice, ‘It wasn’t his fault.’

Lynne’s lips parted in a soundless gasp. She said, ‘You mean you went with someone else? Oh, Marin, not that bastard in France. Surely not…?’

‘No,’ Marin said wretchedly. ‘It’s Jake’s baby.’ She shook her head. ‘But I’m to blame, not him.’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Lynne said robustly. ‘After all, you didn’t grab him and drag him into bed.’ There was a long silence, and she went on more slowly, ‘Marin—say something. You’re beginning to worry me.’

‘But that’s exactly what I did,’ Marin swallowed. ‘Lynne, I was hardly wearing any clothes and I—I threw myself at him.’

‘Dear God,’ Lynne said blankly. She got to her feet. ‘I need some strong coffee. Do you want some?’

‘I’ve changed to peppermint tea. There’s a packet in the kitchen.’ A present from my future mother-in-law, she thought, biting her lip.

Lynne’s face was brooding when she returned with the drinks. ‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she said. ‘For God’s sake, Marin, you’re the last person on earth to do something like that. So why, honey? And with Rad, of all people?’

Which was, of course, the fifty-million-dollar question, and Marin couldn’t answer it. At least, not truthfully.

‘I suppose I wanted to know what it was like,’ she said eventually, looking away and praying that it sounded plausible. ‘And with someone who’d know what he was doing.’

‘A baby,’ Lynne said quietly, ‘is a high price to pay for curiosity.’

She drank some of her coffee. ‘Is he going to admit he’s the father? Provide financial support?’

‘Yes,’ Marin said. ‘But not quite in the way you think.’ She took her hand from its hiding place in her skirt pocket and held it out. ‘We—we’re getting married. He took me down to Harborne—to his house in the country—to meet his mother this afternoon. And he inherited this ring from his grandmother.’

Another silence, then Lynne sighed again, very wearily. ‘I think in my secret heart I was praying this was some kind of weird wind-up,’ she said. ‘That you’d suddenly shout “April Fool”, and I could kick you on the ankle for giving me a fright whereupon life would return to normal. Only it isn’t going to—is it?’

She took Marin’s cold hand in both of hers. ‘And you say you’re not in love with each other?’

‘Not in the slightest.’ Marin met her searching look calmly. ‘We’re making the best of a bad job, that’s all. Jake doesn’t want to be married in any conventional sense, but he needs an heir. I’ve no wish to be his wife in any sense at all, but I’m having his child.’ She made herself shrug. ‘Deal done. Problem solved.’

‘Solved?’ Lynne repeated incredulously. ‘It sounds like a recipe for hell. Have you gone quite crazy?’

‘No,’ Marin said quietly. ‘The madness was getting pregnant in the first place. But all that matters from now on is ensuring the baby has the best possible life.’
I have to believe that. Have to…

‘And your life?’ Lynne asked. ‘What about that?’

‘Once the baby’s born, I plan to go back to work in some capacity.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Lynne said quietly. ‘And you know it. Are you really going to be content with this sterile bargain you seem to have cooked up between you? Is he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Marin suddenly found herself remembering Jake’s own phrase from that morning. ‘We—we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Please, Lynne, stop being angry and wish me well.’

‘I’m not angry, just worried sick.’ Lynne hugged her fiercely. ‘And I think it would be better to wish you luck,’ she added wryly. ‘Because something tells me you’re going to need it.’

She paused, frowning. ‘A small point. What are you going to say to Barbara and Dad? You can’t possibly tell them the truth.’

‘I already spoke to them. We called them when we got back from Harborne.’ She bit her lip. ‘We let them think it was a whirlwind romance, and that we forgot everything but each other. At first they were really shocked and disapproving, but Jake managed to talk them round and although they’re still a bit stunned, they’re definitely coming to the wedding.’

‘The spin doctor in action,’ Lynne said bitterly. ‘I’d better feed Mike the same story. I wouldn’t want him to punch his future brother-in-law on the nose when they meet.’

‘But there’s one more thing you have to know,’ Marin continued. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be moving out—going to live in Chelsea with Jake. Just for convenience sake,’ she added hurriedly. ‘It should have been tonight, but he said I was looking tired and that I’d been through enough upheaval for one day.’

She was expecting another explosion, but to her surprise, Lynne’s lips quirked into a thoughtful smile.

‘Then perhaps all hope is not lost,’ she said, half to herself. Then, more briskly, ‘Now, let’s have a last girlie evening—supper in our dressing gowns and old movies on television. What do you say?’

Marin, her aching heart reminding her that hope had never existed in the first place, smiled and said, ‘Wonderful.’

I don’t like this room, thought Marin as she lay on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling. If I’m honest, I don’t like this flat, either.

It was undeniably beautiful, of course. Probably the ultimate in contemporary chic. But it was cold in a way no amount of under-floor heating or mood-lighting could alleviate.

When she’d first seen it, she’d felt she was looking at a glossy still-life painting. Something she could admire without wishing to own it, or respond to it emotionally.

Not that any kind of emotional engagement had been asked of her since she’d first come to live here ten long days ago, she reminded herself.

She was sharing a roof, she thought, with a polite stranger who had already left for the day before she awoke, and who returned just in time to join her for dinner in the evenings, after which he usually excused himself and went off to his study to work.

He was certainly keeping his side of the bargain, she admitted, but somehow that made her own situation no easier to bear. On the contrary.

But then everything about her stay here had been awkward, beginning with the moment when Jake had ushered her out of the lift carrying them up to the penthouse.

‘I have a meeting in Canary Wharf, so I have to go,’he’d said, putting down her solitary suitcase. He’d smiled briefly at the tall, grey-haired woman who awaited them. ‘But Jean—Mrs Connell—will look after you, and I’ll see you tonight.’

He’d drawn her to him, dropped a kiss on her hair and gone.

‘Welcome to Danborough Gate, madam.’ Mrs Connell’s tone was civil but for an instant her surprise showed on her face.

Clearly she’d been expecting a very different bride-to-be, someone glamorous and sophisticated, thought Marin, and tried not to mind.

‘And may I take the opportunity to wish you every happiness?’ the housekeeper continued, then paused, her expression faintly guarded. ‘Mr Radley-Smith gave instructions for me to prepare the guest accommodation for you. Is that correct?’

‘Yes,’ Marin said quietly. ‘Perfectly correct.’

I bet I’m the first female not to be shown straight to his bedroom, she thought without pleasure. She must really wonder what’s happening, if he doesn’t want to sleep with the girl he’s going to marry.

Mrs Connell picked up the case and hesitated, clearly confused by its lightness. ‘Is this all your luggage, madam?’

‘Every scrap,’ Marin returned.

Lynne, she reflected wryly, had gone through her wardrobe like the exterminating angel, leaving little but the clothing Jake had bought her for their weekend at Queens Barton.

‘And even this won’t fit you for long,’ she’d commented as she’d packed. ‘But, looking on the bright side, when you get your figure back you can stick him for a whole new trousseau. Won’t that be great?’

‘Fantastic,’ Marin had said in a hollow voice.

Perhaps
fantastic
was the right word to describe everything that had happened to her, she thought now, remembering how she’d trailed round the flat in Mrs Connell’s brisk wake, assimilating the large-reception rooms with their bleached, wooden floors, the three bedrooms—each with its own bathroom—the kitchen that looked like the flight deck on a spacecraft and the balcony, with its superb view of the river.

‘There’s also a very pleasant roof-garden, madam, which isn’t overlooked by anyone, so it offers total privacy,’ Mrs Connell had informed her. ‘Mr Radley-Smith uses it a great deal.’

Which probably explains the all-over tan, thought Marin, her face warming. She focussed her attention hurriedly on a sunburst of white-and-gold flowers on a side table.

‘How lovely,’ she’d said. ‘Did you arrange them?’

‘Oh, no, madam.’ Mrs Connell had shaken her head. ‘We employ a floral art service. The young woman calls each Thursday.’

In addition to a previously mentioned laundry service and domestic-cleaning firm, Marin had thought, startled. But if she’d wondered how Mrs Connell—who seemed to arrive at dawn each day—occupied her time when she had all this assistance, she’d soon discovered that she was a magical cook.

It was also evident that Mrs Connell must have had a confidential chat with Sadie, because all kinds of little delicacies began suddenly to appear during the day which Marin was not allowed to refuse.

Has no one told them that eating for two isn’t fashionable any more? she wondered, caught between amusement and embarrassment.

But, apart from being pampered, she did not have a great deal to fill her days. Mrs Connell’s calm efficiency covered all eventualities at the house, Jake had all the arrangements for the wedding in hand, and once Marin had explained to an astonished Wendy Ingram why she was no longer available for work she’d found herself in a kind of limbo. Leaving her, she realised, with far too much time to think. And to fear the inevitable loneliness of the future.

Jake had arranged for her to visit the medical practice he used, where she’d been received kindly and cheerfully by Dr Gresham, one of the female partners. Her examination had been gently reassuring, and she’d been told her general health was excellent.

‘Although I’d be happier if you were less tense,’ the doctor had said at last. She’d given Marin a searching look. ‘You do want this baby, Miss Wade?’

‘Yes,’ said Marin. ‘Oh, yes, I do. It’s—very precious.’

And she knew that in spite of everything it was the truth, because it was all of the man she loved that she would ever have, or that she would be allowed to love and cherish openly without evoking ridicule or pity.

It’s you and me against the world, little one, she thought, placing a protective hand on her stomach. Although from tomorrow, when your father transfers me to Harborne, that world may become slightly more bearable. And certainly more real.

Because the bedroom she’d been occupying was just like an ivory tower, she thought. Everything was in that same pale colour—the walls, the furniture, the bathroom tiles and fixtures and even the fabrics, apart from the vivid band of colour supplied by the crisply folded turquoise-and-gold coverlet making its own style statement from the foot of the bed.

And I, Marin told herself, make the place look untidy simply by being here.

Her mother, who’d been staying at Danborough Gate since her arrival from Portugal with Derek five days ago, had much the same thoughts.

‘It’s absolutely stunning, of course,’ she’d said cautiously. ‘Like a picture spread from some hideously expensive magazine. But it’s not exactly home-like, certainly not somewhere you could leave a used cup or a newspaper lying around. And I can’t imagine the kind of havoc a baby would wreak. Although I would never say so to dear Jake,’ she added hurriedly.

‘He wouldn’t be too disturbed,’ Lynne had said, registering ‘dear Jake’ with an amused lift of an eyebrow. ‘He calls it “the annexe”—a convenient extension to the office with great entertaining space.’ She’d given Marin a mischievous look. ‘A treat in store for you, honey, playing hostess.’

Marin had bitten her lip. ‘I suppose so.’

Except it will never happen, she thought. Once the baby’s born my duty’s done, as far as Jake’s concerned, and he won’t want me back in London.

However, in the cause of neatness, she should really get up from the bed and put away her discarded wedding-dress, still lying where she’d thrown it in a sprawl of filmy, shell-pink lawn on the dressing stool.

It was a lovely dress and deserved better treatment, although it wasn’t the kind of thing she’d ever intended to buy.

But Barbara had had her own ideas. She’d immediately vetoed Marin’s half-hearted plan to buy a skirt and jacket which would have some indeterminate future use, and with Lynne’s support had set off with her protesting daughter to trawl the boutiques.

She had tried in vain to persuade Marin into one of the enchanting creations in bridal white produced for their inspection but, when the soft cloud of high-waisted and ankle-length pink had emerged from its protective cover, she and Lynne had looked at each other and smiled in triumph.

So, even before the matching silk slip had slid over her head and down her still-slender body, Marin had known the decision was made.

It was far too romantic, she’d told herself with disquiet as she stared into the changing-room mirror, but that, of course, was what Barbara would expect.

After all, she’d been told that her shy daughter had been swept off her sensible feet into a passionate affair.

And her initial meeting with her future son-in-law, at his most charming, had totally confirmed that belief.

But then Jake’s performance had been flawless throughout, Marin thought with a pang. He’d been warm, attentive and caring, with the occasional discreet hint of passion forcibly reined back.

And at the wedding this morning he’d produced a master stroke. It had been exactly the private, family occasion he’d promised, with Lynne and Mike acting as witnesses.

As Marin went to stand at Jake’s side, she met his faintly questioning look with composure, agreeing to take James Anthony Radley-Smith as her lawful wedded husband in the steady tone which gave no hint of the hard knot forming in her chest.