Marriage: To Claim His Twins (6 page)

If she had hoped to shame Sander into an apology she soon recognised that one would not be forthcoming. A curt nod of his head was the only response he seemed willing to give her before he continued cynically,

‘And, having fulfilled your obligation, you now expect me to fulfil what you no doubt consider to be mine, I expect? To furnish you with the wherewithal to replace your single suitcase with a full set of new ones and clothes with which to fill them.'

The open cynicism in his voice burned Ruby's already scorched pride like salt poured into an open wound. ‘Your only obligation to me is to be a good father to the twins.'

‘No,' he corrected her coldly, ‘that is my obligation to them.' He didn't like her response. It wasn't the one he had expected. It didn't match the profile he had mentally drawn up for her. Somehow she had managed to stray from the script he had written. The one in which she revealed herself to be an unworthy mother, leaving him holding the high ground and the moral right to continue to despise her. ‘There is no need to be self-sacrificing.' Her resistance to the role he had cast for her made him feel all the more determined to prove himself right. ‘As my wife, naturally you must present an appropriate appearance—although I must caution you against buying clothes of the type you were wearing the night you propositioned me. It is the role of my wife you will be playing in future. Not the role of a whore.'

Ruby had no words to refute his contemptuous insult, but she wasn't going to accept his charity. ‘We already have plenty of clothes. We don't need any more,' she insisted vehemently.

She was daring to try to reject what he knew to be the truth about her. She must be taught a lesson that
would ensure that she did not do so again. She
would
wear clothes bought with his money, so that they would both know just what she was. He might be forced to marry her in order to be able to lay legal claim to his sons, but he wasn't going to let her forget that she belonged to that group of women all too willing to sell their bodies to any man rich enough to provide them with the lifestyle of designer clothes and easy money they craved.

‘Plenty of clothes?' he taunted her. ‘In one case? When there are three of you? My sons and my wife will be dressed in a manner appropriate to their station in life, and not—'

‘Not what?' Ruby challenged him.

‘Do you
really
need me to answer that question?' was his silkily derisory response.

 

The shabby case was in the boot of a very expensive and luxurious-looking car, the twins were safely strapped into their seats, her decision had already been made—and yet now that it came to it Ruby wavered on the front doorstep, looking back into the house.

‘Where's your coat?'

Sander's question distracted her.

‘I don't need one,' she fibbed. The truth was that she didn't have a proper winter coat, but she wasn't going to tell Sander that—not after what he'd already said. He was waiting, holding the car door open for her. Shivering in the easterly March wind, Ruby locked the front door. Her head pounding painfully,
she got into the car. Its interior smelled of expensive leather, very different from the smell inside the taxi that had transported them back to Sander's hotel that fateful night…

Her mouth went dry.

The twins were both engrossed in the TVs installed in the back of the front seats. Sander was concentrating on his driving. Now wasn't the time to think about that night, she told herself. But it was too late. The memories were already storming her defences and flooding over them.

Her parents' death in an accident had been a terrible shock, followed by her sister's decision to sell their family home. Ruby hadn't realised then that their parents had died heavily in debt. Her oldest sister had tried to protect her by not telling her, and so she had assumed that her decision to sell the house was motivated by the decision to set up her own interior design business in Cheshire. Angry with her sister, she had deliberately chosen to befriend a girl new to the area, knowing that her sister disapproved of the freedom Tracy's parents allowed her, and of Tracy herself. Although she was only eighteen months older than Ruby, Tracy had been far more worldly, dressing in tight-fitting clothes in the latest and skimpiest fashions, her hair dyed blonde and her face heavily made-up.

Secretly, although she hadn't been prepared to admit it—especially not to her older sister—Ruby had been shocked by some of the disclosures Tracy had made about the things she had done. Tracy's goal in life was to get a footballer boyfriend. She had heard that young
footballers in Manchester patronised a certain club in the city, and had asked Ruby to go there with her.

Alarmed by Tracy's disclosures, Ruby hadn't really wanted to go. But when she had tried to say so, telling Tracy that she doubted her sister would give her permission, Tracy had mocked her and accused her of being a baby who needed her sister's permission for everything she did. Of course Ruby had denied that she was any such thing, whereupon Tracy had challenged her to prove it by daring her to go with her.

She had been just seventeen, and a very naive seventeen at that, with her whole world turned upside down by events over which she'd had no control. But no matter how often both her sisters had reassured her since then that her rebellion had been completely natural, understandable, and that she was not to blame for what had happened, Ruby knew that deep down inside she would always feel guilty.

Before they'd left for Manchester Tracy had promised Ruby a ‘makeover' and poured them both a glass of vodka and orange juice. It had gone straight to Ruby's head as she had never drunk alcohol. The drink had left her feeling so light-headed that she hadn't protested or objected when Tracy had insisted that Ruby change into one of her own short skirts and a tight-fitting top, before making up Ruby's face in a similar style to her own, with dark eyeliner, heavy thick mascara loaded on her eyelashes and lots of deep pink lipgloss.

The girl staring back at Ruby from the mirror, with her tousled hair and her pink pout had been so unrec
ognisable as herself that under the effect of the vodka and orange Ruby had only been able to stare at her reflection in dizzy astonishment.

She might only have been seventeen, but she had known even before she had watched Tracy sweet talking the bouncer into letting them into the club that neither her parents nor her sisters would have approved of her being there, but by then she had been too afraid of Tracy's mockery and contempt to tell her that she had changed her mind and wanted to go home.

She'd watched other girls going in—older girls than her, dressed up to the nines in tiny little tops and skirts that revealed dark sunbed tans—and she'd known instinctively and immediately that she would feel out of place.

Inside, the club had been hot and stuffy, packed with girls with the same goal in mind as Tracy.

Several young men had come up to them as they'd stood close to the bar. Tracy had refused Ruby's suggestion that they sit down at a tucked-away table with a derisory, ‘Don't be daft—no one will see us if we do that.' But Tracy had shaken her head, ignoring the boys and telling Ruby, ‘They're nothing. Just ordinary lads out on the pull.'

She'd bought them both drinks—cocktails which had seemed innocuous when Ruby sipped thirstily at hers, because of the heat in the club, but which had quickly made her feel even more dizzy and disorientated than the vodka and orange juice had done.

The club had been packed and noisy, and Ruby's head had begun to ache. She had felt alien and alone,
with the alcohol heightening her emotions: bringing home to her the reality of her parents' death, bringing to a head all the despair and misery she had been feeling.

Tracy had started talking to a young man, deliberately excluding Ruby from their conversation and keeping her back to her.

Suddenly and achingly Ruby had longed for the security of the home life she had lost—of knowing that there was someone in her life to take care of her and protect her, someone who loved her, instead of getting cross with her like her elder sister did. And that had been when she had looked across the bar and seen Sander.

Something about him had set him apart from the other men in the bar. For a start he'd been far more smartly dressed, in a suit, with his dark hair groomed, and an air of command and power and certainty had emanated from him that Ruby's insecure senses immediately recognised and were drawn to… In her alcohol-induced state, Sander had looked like an island of security and safety in a sea of confusion and misery. She hadn't been able to take her eyes off him, and when he had looked back at her, her mouth had gone so dry with the anticipation of speaking to him that she had had to wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. The way that Sander's gaze had followed that movement, showing her that he was singling her out from all the other girls in the bar, had reinforced Ruby's cocktail-produced belief that there was a link between them—that he was drawing her to him, that they were meant to meet, and that somehow once she was close to him she would be safe,
and he would save her from her own fears and protect her just as her parents had done.

She had no memory of actually going to him, only of reaching him, feeling like a swimmer who had crested turbulent waves to reach the security of a calm sea where she could float safely. When she had smiled up at Sander she had felt as though she already knew him. But of course she hadn't. She hadn't known anything, Ruby reflected bitterly now, as she dragged her thoughts away from the past and massaged her throbbing temple as Sander drove onto the motorway slip road and the car picked up speed.

S
ANDER
had booked them into the Carlton Towers Hotel, just off Sloane Street. They had an enormous suite of three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and a good-sized sitting room as well.

Ruby had felt dreadfully out of place as they'd walked through the downstairs lobby, compared with the elegantly groomed women surrounded by expensive-looking shopping bags who were having afternoon tea in the lounge. But she had soon forgotten them once they had been shown into their suite and she had realised that Sander would be staying in the suite with them.

Her heart was beating far too fast, her whole body suddenly charged and sensitised, so that she was far too aware of Sander. His presence in the room, even though there were several feet between them and he was fully dressed, somehow had the same effect on her body as though he was standing close to her and touching her. The sound of his voice made her think she could almost feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. Her body was
starting to react even to her thoughts, tiny darts of sensation heightening her awareness of him.

He raised his hand, gesturing towards the bedrooms as he told her, ‘I've asked for one of the rooms to be made up with twin beds for the boys.'

Inside her head she could feel that hand cupping her breast. Beneath her clothes her breasts swelled and ached whilst she tried desperately to stifle her body's arousal. Why was this happening to her? She'd lived happily without sex for nearly six years. Why was her body reacting like this now?

It was just reacting to memory, that was all. Her desire for Sander, like that memory, belonged to the past and had no place in the present. Ruby tried to convince herself, but she knew that it wasn't true. The fact that he could arouse her to intense desire for him was something she didn't want to think about. Her stomach was churning, adding to the feeling of nausea already being produced by her headache. She had actually been sick when they had stopped for a break at a motorway service station, and had had to purchase a travel pack of toothbrush and toothpaste to refresh her mouth. Now all she really wanted to do was lie down in a dark room, but of course that was impossible.

‘You and I will occupy the other two rooms, of course,' Sander was saying. ‘I expect that you will wish to have the room closest to the boys?'

‘I could have shared a room with them,' was Ruby's response. Because sharing with the boys would surely prevent any more of those unwanted memories from surfacing? ‘There was no need for you to book three rooms.'

‘If I had only booked two the hotel would have assumed you would be sharing my bed, not sleeping with the twins,' was Sander's response.

Immediately another image flashed through her head: two naked bodies entwined on a large bed, the man's hands holding and caressing the woman, whilst her head was thrown back in wild ecstasy. Sander's hands and her head. Heat filled her body. Her own mental images were making her panic. What she was experiencing was probably caused by the same kind of thing that caused the victims of dreadful trauma to have flashbacks they couldn't control, she told herself. They meant nothing other than that Sander's unexpected and unwanted reappearance in her life was causing her to remember the event that had had such a dramatic effect on her life.

To her relief the twins, who had been inspecting the suite, came rushing into the sitting room. Harry ran over to her to inform her, ‘Guess what? There's a TV in our bedroom, and—'

‘A TV which will remain switched off whilst you are in bed,' Ruby told him firmly, relieved to be able to return to the familiar role of motherhood. ‘You know the rules.' She was very strict about limiting the boys' television viewing, preferring them to make their own entertainment.

Sander's comment about the rooms had penetrated her mind and was still lodged there—a small, unnerving time bomb of a comment that was having an effect on her that was out of all proportion to its reality. The
sound of Sander saying ‘my bed' had made her heart jerk around inside her chest as though it was on a string—and why? She had no desire to share that bed with him; he meant nothing to her now. It was merely the result of only ever having had one sexual partner and being sexually inexperienced. It had left her reacting to a man saying the words ‘my bed' as though she were a teenager, blushing at every mention of anything remotely connected to sex, Ruby derided herself.

‘I thought we'd use the rest of the afternoon to get the boys kitted out with the clothes they'll need for the island. We can walk to Harrods from here, or get a cab if you wish.'

The last thing Ruby felt like doing was shopping, but she was determined not to show any weakness. Sander would only accuse of being a bad mother if she did.

Hopefully she might see a chemist, where she could get something for her headache. It had been so long since she had last had one of these debilitating attacks that she didn't have anything she could take for it. Determinedly trying to ignore her continuing feeling of nausea, she nodded her head, and then winced as the pain increased.

‘The boys will need summer clothes,' Sander told her. ‘Even in March the temperature on the island can be as high as twenty-two degrees centigrade, and it rises to well over thirty in the summer.'

 

Two hours later Ruby was battling between angry frustration at the way in which Sander had overruled all her
attempts to minimise the amount of money he was spending by choosing the cheapest items she could find and a mother's natural pride in her sons, who had drawn smiles of approval from the assistants with their appearance in their new clothes: smart, boyish separates from the summer ranges that had just come in, and in which Ruby had to admit they looked adorable.

As a reward for their good behaviour Sander had insisted on taking them to the toy department, where he'd bought them both complicated-looking state-of-the-art boys' toys that had them both speechless with delight.

The whole time they had been shopping with the boys Ruby had been conscious of the admiring looks Sander had attracted from other women—women who no doubt would have been only too delighted to be marrying him in two days' time, Ruby acknowledged, and her heart gave a flurry of tense beats in response to her thoughts.

‘I've got some business matters to attend to this evening,' Sander told her as they made a detour on the way back to the hotel to allow the boys to walk in Hyde Park—a suggestion from Sander which Ruby had welcomed, hoping that the fresh air would ease the pounding in her head.

After acknowledging Sander's comment Ruby focused on keeping an eye on the twins, who were walking ahead of them.

Sander continued. ‘But first I've arranged for a jeweller to come to the hotel with a selection of wedding and engagement rings. I've also made an appointment
for you tomorrow morning at the spa and hair salon in Harvey Nichols, and then afterwards a personal shopper will help you choose your own new wardrobe. I thought I'd take the boys to the Natural History Museum whilst you're doing that, to keep them occupied.'

Ruby stopped walking and turned to look at him, her eyes blazing with temper.

‘I don't need a spa appointment, or a new hairstyle, or a new wardrobe, thank you very much. And I certainly don't want an engagement ring.'

She was lying, of course. Or did she think she could get more out of him by pretending she didn't want anything?

Oblivious to Sander's thoughts, Ruby continued, ‘And if my present appearance isn't good enough for you, then too bad. Because it's good enough for me.'

Quickly hurrying after the twins, Ruby tried to ignore how unwell she was feeling. Even though she couldn't see him she knew that Sander had caught up with her and was standing behind her. Her body could feel him there, but stubbornly she refused to turn round.

‘You have two choices,' Sander informed her coolly. ‘Either you accept the arrangements I have made for you, or you will accept the clothes I shall instruct the store to select on your behalf. There is no option for you, as my wife, to dress as you are doing now. You are so eager to display your body to male eyes that you aren't even wearing a coat—all the better for them to assess what is on offer, no doubt.'

‘That's a disgusting thing to say, and totally untrue. You must
know
the reason I'm not wearing a coat is—'
Abruptly Ruby stopped speaking realising that she had allowed her anger to betray her into making an admission she had no wish to make.

‘Yes?' Sander probed.

‘Is that I forgot to bring one with me,' Ruby told him lamely. The truth was that she had not been able to afford to buy herself one—not with the twins constantly outgrowing their clothes. But she wasn't going to expose herself to more humiliation by admitting that to Sander.

How could he be marrying a woman like this one? Sander wondered savagely. It would have suited his purposes far more if the report he had received from the agents he had hired to find Ruby had included something to suggest that she was a neglectful mother, thus giving him real grounds for legally removing them from their mother. The report, though, had done nothing of the sort—had actually dared to claim that Ruby was a good mother, the kind of mother whose absence from their lives would damage his sons. That was a risk he was not prepared to take.

Ignoring Ruby's defiant statement, Sander went on, ‘The boys are approaching an age where they will be aware of appearance and other people's opinions. They are going to have to deal with settling into a different environment, and I'm sure that the last thing you want to do is make it harder for them. I have a duty to the Konstantinakos position as the ruling and thus most important family on the island. That duty involves a certain amount of entertaining. It will be expected that as my wife you take part in that. Additionally, my sister, her
friends, and the wives of those of my executives who live in Athens are very fashion-conscious. They would be quick to sense that our marriage is not all it should be were you to make a point of dressing as you do now. And that could impact on our sons.'

Our
sons. Ruby felt as though her heart had been squeezed by a giant hand. She was very tempted to resort to the immature tactic of pointing out that since he hadn't even been aware of the twins' existence until recently he was hardly in a position to take a stance on delivering advice to her on what might or might not affect them—but what was the point? He had won—again, she was forced to acknowledge. Because now she would be very conscious of the fact that she was being judged by her appearance, and that if she was found wanting it would reflect on the twins. Acceptance by their peers was very important to children. Ruby knew that even at the boys' young age children hated being ‘different' or being embarrassed. For their sake she would have to accept Sander's charity, even though her pride hated the idea.

She hated feeling so helpless and dependent on others. She loved her sisters, and was infinitely grateful to them for all that they had done for her and the boys, but it was hard sometimes always having to depend on others, never being able to claim the pride and self-respect that came from being financially self-supporting. She had hoped that once the boys were properly settled at school she might be able to earn a degree that ultimately would allow her to find work, but now she was going to be even
more dependent on the financial generosity of someone else than she was already. But it wasn't her pride that was important, Ruby reminded herself. It was her sons' emotional happiness. They hadn't asked to be born. And she hadn't asked for Sander's opinion on her appearance—or his money. She was twenty-three, and it was ridiculous of her to feel so helpless and humiliated that she was close to defeated tears.

To conceal her emotions she leaned down towards the boys, to warn them not to run too far ahead of them, watching as they nodded their heads.

It was when she straightened up that it happened. Perhaps she moved too quickly. Ruby didn't know, but one minute she was straightening up and the next she felt so dizzy from the pain in her head that she lost her balance. She would have fallen if Sander hadn't reacted so quickly, reaching out to grab hold of her so that she fell against his body rather than tumbling to the ground.

Immediately she was transported back to the past. The circumstances might be very different, but then too she had stumbled, and Sander had rescued her. Then, though, the cause of her fall had been the unfamiliar height of the borrowed shoes Tracy had insisted she should wear, and the effect of too many cocktails. The result was very much the same. Now, just as then, she could feel the steady thud of Sander's heart against her body, whilst her own raced and bounced, the frantic speed of its beat making her feel breathless and far too weak to try to struggle against the arms holding her. Then too his proximity had filled her senses with the
scent of his skin, the alien maleness of hard muscle beneath warm flesh, the power of that maleness, both physically and emotionally, and most of all her own need to simply be held by him. Then she had been thrilled to be in his arms, but now… Panic curled through her. That was not how she was supposed to feel, and it certainly wasn't what she wanted to feel. Sander was her enemy—an enemy she was forced to share her sons with because he was their father, an enemy who had ripped from her the protection of her naivety with his cruel contempt for her.

Determinedly Ruby started to push herself free, but instead of releasing her Sander tightened his hold of her.

He'd seen that she was slender, Sander acknowledged, but it was only now that he was holding her and could actually feel the bones beneath her flesh that he was able to recognise how thin she was. She was shivering too, despite her claim not to need a coat. Once again he was reminded of the report he had commissioned on her. Was it possible that in order to ensure that her sons ate well and were not deprived of the nourishment they needed she herself had been going without? Sander had held his sons, and he knew just how solid and strong their bodies were. The amount of energy they possessed alone was testament to their good health. And it was
their
good health that mattered to him, not that of their mother, whose presence in his life as well as theirs was something he had told himself he would have to accept for their sakes.