The Last-Minute Marriage

‘Peta…’

‘All right.’ As the assistant searched the racks for something suitable she flashed him a look that was half apology, but the defiance was still there. ‘I know. You’re being really nice. I’m being really stupid. But this feels…wrong.’

‘It’s sensible. Just do it.’

‘Try this,’ the assistant said, with a bright smile at Marcus. Peta was ignored. She held the suit up against Peta, but it was Marcus who was clearly expected to make the decision.

He might have, but he never got the chance. As the girl smiled across at Marcus, Peta lifted the price tag.

She yelped.

Marcus doubted if he’d ever heard a woman yelp before but she yelped. She pushed the suit away and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

‘What, are you crazy?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at the price. I can’t afford this.’

‘I’m paying. I told you. I ruined your clothes.’

‘Yeah, you spilled my drink over my five-buck shirt and you’re intending to replace it with stuff that costs three thousand dollars?’ She fended off the suit some more. ‘Three thousand dollars! Look, this seemed a really nice idea, and I’m delighted to have a bandage on my ankle and these neat crutches, but suddenly it’s out of hand. You’ve done enough. I can’t take any more. Can I leave? Now?’

She was backing towards the door.

‘You won’t get in to see Charles,’ Marcus warned. He watched the conflicting emotions play over her face and felt the same conflict himself. He’d been enjoying himself, he decided. It wasn’t half bad—millionaire playing benefactor to very attractive waif. But the waif was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to smile sweetly and acquiesce.

This was like Cinderella saying the glass slipper didn’t fit. Or didn’t look right.

She was still backing, no mean feat on brand-new crutches, and the conflicting emotions were giving way to overriding distress. ‘I just have to deal with Charles my own way,’ she muttered.

‘You agreed to do this.’

‘I was stupid. I must have hit my head on the way down the stairs. So now, somehow, I’m standing in a swish store with a guy who has more money than I’ll ever dream about—and he’s offering to spend enough money on a suit to feed my family for a year.’

‘Your family?’

Her face shuttered even more, and the pain intensified. ‘I don’t need to talk about my family. I’m out of my depth. I need to leave. I’m sorry.’ She backed a bit more until she was balancing in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you very much for all you’ve done.’

‘Peta…’

‘I can’t do this. I can’t.’

He caught her three doors down. She’d tried to move fast but she was on crutches.

He’d followed. Of course he’d followed, even though he was unsure why he was still intent on helping. But he let her have a little space until she cooled down.

She was forced to cool down. Her anger could only carry her so far before the pain in her ankle caught up with her. He watched her slow. He saw her steps falter as if she was unsure where to go from here.

He saw her shoulders slump. Saw the despair catch up.

And when he caught her… As he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him, he wasn’t surprised to see tears welling behind those lovely eyes.

The tears stopped the moment he touched her. She swiped her cheek and pulled back. Swaying dangerously. He put out his hands to steady her but she backed some more.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You shouldn’t be sorry. You were trying to be nice.’

He carefully pushed away the urge to play fairy godfather some more. He tried to put himself in her place. It was hard, but maybe he could manage it.

Once upon a time he’d been dependant, too, and he knew how much harder it was to take than give. It was just… In the last few years there had been so many takers.

Peta was a novelty. But he could adjust.

‘I was a bit insensitive,’ he managed. ‘I had this idea that I could help. And I’d like to.’

‘You can’t.’

‘I can, you know,’ he said softly. ‘It would be my privilege. If you let me.’

‘Yeah, toss money.’ Another angry swipe at tears she clearly despised and an angry sniff. ‘It’s all you know how to do.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He was stymied. He didn’t have a clue what was happening. How had he got himself in this situation?

He could just stop. He had no reason to persist.

Why did he?

He had no idea what this woman wanted with Charles Higgins. He had no idea whether he could help her.

All he knew was that he wanted to know more.

‘Can we start again, please?’ he asked, and she sniffed once more and stared up at him, her face loaded with suspicion.

‘Start again?’

‘I’ve driven into this like a blunderbuss,’ he admitted. ‘I have no idea what’s going on. I want to help. I don’t even know why I want to help but I do.’ He reached out and touched her hand. He didn’t hold. He simply touched.

He knew that she still had the urge to run. He had it himself.

‘Tell me what you need,’ he told her. ‘What can I do to help? Right now.’

She took a deep breath. Regrouped. Around them were a bustle of Fifth Avenue shoppers—smartly dressed women, suited businessmen. Marcus fitted right in.

Peta didn’t fit in at all. But she obviously wasn’t thinking of her appearance. She stared at him for a while longer and then made a confession—as if she was forced to admit something she was ashamed of.