Marriage On Command

‘He…well, he’s right—hard though that’s going to be,’ Lee said unguardedly, ‘but how can he be so sure?’

Damien studied her searchingly for a long moment. ‘Cyril wrote a letter that is on public record explaining this unusual bequest.’

‘Try bizarre,’ Lee suggested. ‘But, whatever, I was completely stunned.’

‘It was the last thing I expected. Nor did either of us, I would imagine—’ he looked at her sardonically ‘—anticipate the explanation he left in the letter: that he had formed the opinion we were well suited and his dearest wish was that owning this property jointly would encourage us to marry and enjoy the benefits of Plover Park together.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ Lee agreed in a heartfelt way. ‘I nearly fell off my chair all over again. But—’

‘Because we have given no indication that we intend to enjoy Plover park together, Lee,’ Damien interrupted deliberately, ‘Cyril’s brother contends that we misled an old man who was virtually on his deathbed into leaving the property outside the family—do you understand?’

Lee blinked several times, then with a heartfelt sigh poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘I had the feeling this was just too good to be true. That must be why I feel like pinching myself so often.’

‘You perceive yourself to be morally wrong in the way you’ve interpreted Cyril’s bequest?’ he enquired with a lift of an eyebrow.

‘I…’ She paused. ‘I will never know why he made the bequest in the first place, for one thing.’

‘You got to him in the end, Lee. He obviously admired you.’ A humorous glint lit his dark eyes. ‘Despite the number of times you camped out on his doorstep waving placards impeaching his integrity.’

‘If that’s so,’ she retorted, ‘why didn’t he bequeath Plover Park directly to me? Why did he have to involve you?’

Damien shrugged. ‘He was dying, he was a bachelor—perhaps he regretted not having children like us to leave his wealth to. Who knows what his thoughts were in those last days? Or…’ He paused and gazed at Lee narrowly. ‘He genuinely did believe you and I were made for each other and we simply required a shove in the right direction.’

‘How could he have formed that opinion?’ she asked, looking baffled. ‘There was nothing remotely lover-like between us.’

Damien put his head on one side and his lips twitched. ‘How right you are. I spent most of my time trying to shut you up.’

Lee bit her lip. ‘I thought—well, you know what I thought, and how much I love my grandparents.’

Something softened in Damien Moore’s eyes for a moment but he said nothing.

‘How do you feel about it all now, Damien?’ she asked at length.

He took his time, then shrugged. ‘The same as you. A sense of mystification. But we both felt that Cyril left something unsaid that day, didn’t we?’

Lee’s mind flew back as she sipped her coffee, and she nodded.

‘Well,’ he went on, ‘Cyril Delaney had quite an impressive record, not only as a property developer but also as a philanthropist. It’s become my considered opinion that he saw the bequest as a means of solving your grandparents’ plight as well as making sure I was on hand to steer you through the pitfalls of it all.’

Lee’s eyes widened. ‘He did say…look after her…didn’t he?’

‘He did,’ Damien agreed—rather dryly, Lee thought. ‘Unfortunately that is only a theory, and not something I could prove in a court of law.’

‘So…’ Lee’s hands trembled around her coffee cup and those marvellously expressive green eyes were bleak and sad. ‘So it was all too good to be true.’

He watched her for a long, intent moment as she blinked urgently to hold back the tears. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said at last. ‘There is one sure way to hold on to Plover Park.’

‘What’s that?’ she asked without much hope.

‘We could get married.’

I’ve died and gone to heaven. Her lips parted incredulously as the thought shot across Lee’s mind. Then sanity prevailed. ‘Not a real marriage, I take it?’

‘Would you like it to be?’

She licked her lips, her eyes huge and stunned. ‘We…we barely know each other,’ she stammered. ‘Uh…there’s no way you’d even suggest this if it weren’t for the circumstances, I’m sure! I think you must have been joking,’ she added, with a mixture of dignity and a tinge of annoyance. ‘Not in very good taste, if you don’t mind me saying so, Mr Moore.’

He looked amused. ‘You haven’t answered the question.’

Lee opened her mouth, closed it, then said, ‘Definitely not, thank you all the same.’

‘In that case, would a marriage of convenience be out of the question?’

She eyed him cautiously.

‘Your convenience,’ he added pointedly.

Lee swallowed some coffee and looked nervous. ‘It could only be supremely inconvenient for you, though,’ she suggested.

He shrugged. ‘If we both know where we stand, I don’t see that it should. In fact, in one aspect it could be quite convenient for me at the moment.’

‘What aspect is that?’ she asked, feeling a lot like Alice when she had just fallen down the rabbit hole.

‘It would suit me to move into Plover Park for a time.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m due for a break, but I also have plans to open a branch office in Byron Bay. I could combine the two and—’ he smiled faintly ‘—keep an eye on my half of the deal at the same time.’

This time Lee knocked over her coffee cup, although fortunately it was empty. Byron Bay was half an hour’s drive from Plover Park.

‘For the almost ten months left until we’re allowed to dispose of Plover Park?’ she asked weakly.

He righted her cup and poured her some more coffee. ‘No, for as long as it takes. Long enough to quash any doubts that we are at least giving Cyril’s dreams for us a go,’ he said with a touch of irony.

‘I…I don’t know what to say.’

‘Then let me point out the alternative, Lee. Legal battles which I would not be able to conduct myself since I would be subject to litigation as well as you. Even if we won—and there’s a grey area here that could be open to interpretation—it would be a long, uncomfortable road.’

This silenced Lee effectively and she tried to sort it all out in her mind. Then she frowned mightily and spoke—unwisely, as it happened. ‘This all seems to dovetail together so well I’m…suspicious!’

Damien lay back in his chair and studied her comprehensively.

Lee fiddled with her scarf and contrived in every way known to her to project unconcern at the scrutiny she was being subjected to. But it was hard going. Because, more than any man she had ever met, Damien Moore was capable of injecting an element of speculation into the way he studied you as a woman, out of those fine dark eyes. Speculation as to what you’d be like in bed, to put it bluntly, she told herself. But it was a curiously disinterested speculation and she hated it!

However, she immediately reminded herself, as she sipped her coffee and tried to look soignée—in spirit if not in grooming—that sadly there was more to the reason she hated it than pure feminine outrage.

There was guilt, for example. Because almost from the moment she’d first met him a certain thought had crossed her mind from time to time—would this dark, clever man, with his wide shoulders, long, strong limbs, his good looks, be dynamite in bed or what?