Billionaire's Wife On Paper

After a moment, he appeared to give himself a mental shake and then raked his splayed fingers through his hair, dropping his hand back by his side. ‘I would hope you know me well enough to be reassured I am a man of my word. If I say our marriage will not be consummated, then you can count on it that it won’t be.’

Why? Because she was so undesirable? So repugnant to him as she had been to her first and only boyfriend when she was sixteen? So unlike the gorgeous supermodel types Logan had occasional casual flings with?

‘Right now, I don’t know whether I should be reassured or insulted.’ The words slipped out before her wounded ego could check in with her brain.

Logan’s gaze dipped to her mouth, lingering there a fraction longer than was necessary. His eyes came back to mesh with hers and her heart gave an odd little thumpity-thump. She had to summon every bit of willpower she possessed and then some not to glance at his mouth. She wondered if he kissed hard or soft or somewhere in between. Her mind suddenly filled with images of them making love, her limbs entangled with his, her senses singing from his touch, his mouth clamped to hers in passion. A passion she could only imagine because she had never experienced it herself.

‘It would only complicate things if we were to have a normal relationship.’ His voice had a rough edge as if something was clogging his throat. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to you.’

Layla turned and went back to the pot simmering on the cooktop behind her. Her body was simmering too. Smouldering with new sensations and longings she had no idea how to control. Had his ‘proposal’ unlocked something in her? Made her aware of herself in a way she hadn’t been before? Aware of her needs, the needs she had ignored and denied, always telling herself no one would ever want to marry her.

She took the lid off the pot, picked up the spoon and gave the casserole a couple of stirs. ‘Will you continue to have casual lovers during our marriage?’

‘No. That’s something else that wouldn’t be fair to you. And I would hope you would refrain from any dalliances yourself.’

Layla put the spoon down again and placed the lid back on the pot with a clang. ‘You don’t have to worry on that score. I haven’t had a casual lover my entire adult life.’

Why did you tell him that?

There was another pulsing silence.

Logan came to her side of the island bench and stood next to her near the cooktop. Her body went on high alert, every nerve and cell aware of his closeness. Not touching, but close enough to do so if either of them moved half a step.

‘But you’ve had lovers, right?’

Layla turned her head to glance at him, hoping he would put her flaming cheeks down to her proximity to the simmering pot in front of her. ‘Not as many as you might think.’ No way was she going to announce she was a twenty-six-year-old virgin. She moved from the cooktop to gather the serving utensils. ‘I haven’t opened any wine for dinner. Do you want to grab a bottle? We’ll be eating in the small green dining room since it’s just the two of us.’

‘I’ll bring something up from the cellar.’

Just the two of us.

How cosy and intimate that sounded, but it wasn’t true. He would never have asked her to marry him if it hadn’t been for the strange conditions on his grandfather’s will. She had to remember that at all costs. This was a business deal. Nothing personal. Nothing lasting.

Nothing.

Logan spent longer than he needed to choosing a wine from the well-stocked Bellbrae cellar. He remembered the bottle of vintage champagne he’d selected when he’d got engaged to Susannah. How excited he’d felt, how ready he’d felt for the commitment he’d made. How he had imagined himself to be in love and Susannah in love with him. He had been Layla’s age—twenty-six. Susannah had been two years younger with a host of issues he had been completely oblivious to until it was too late.

Losing his father after a devastatingly brief battle with cancer had compelled him to settle down as soon as he could. With hindsight, he could see now how many signs he’d missed about the suitability of Susannah, even his own readiness for such a permanent commitment. He’d had no way of knowing how that night of celebrating his engagement would end less than a year later in Susannah’s death. How could he have been so ignorant of the demons she’d battled on a daily basis?

What did that say about him?

It said he wasn’t relationship material, that’s what it said. Or at least, not that sort of relationship. Promising to love someone no matter what, making a long-term commitment were things he could no longer do. Would never do.

But a paper marriage to save his beloved home was something he could do and do it willingly.

Logan selected a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge in the cellar next to the racks of vintage wine. His upcoming marriage to Layla might not be a real one in every sense of the word but it was surely worth celebrating their joint commitment to save Bellbrae.

Layla wheeled the serving trolley into the green dining room rather than risk carrying plates and dishes. Because of the muscle grafts performed to keep her leg functioning as best as it could, it was often weaker and more painful at the end of the day. And the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself by losing her balance again and needing Logan’s assistance. She was already feeling a little nervous about having dinner with him.

In the early days, Aunt Elsie had been very old-school about dining with the family upstairs and had always insisted Layla eat in the kitchen with her. But since the death of Logan’s grandmother the rules had been relaxed as Angus McLaughlin had appreciated the company at dinner to get him through the long lonely evenings.

But she had never dined alone with Logan.

The green dining room was one Layla’s favourite rooms in the castle. It had windows that overlooked the loch on the estate and the Highlands beyond. She left the curtains open as the moon had risen and was shining a bolt of shimmering silver across the crushed silk surface of the water.

Logan came back from the cellar just as Layla was straightening the settings on the table. He was carrying a bottle of French champagne in one hand and holding two crystal glasses by the stems in the other.

‘I seem to recall you like champagne. But if you’d prefer wine…’

‘No, I love champagne. It’s my favourite drink.’ She raised her brows when she saw the label. ‘Gosh, that’s a good one. But should we be wasting it on an everyday dinner?’

He placed the glasses on the table and began to remove the foil covering and wire from the cork. ‘This isn’t an everyday dinner. Tonight, we’re celebrating our success in saving Bellbrae. That’s worth ten thousand bottles of this drop.’

Layla watched as he deftly removed the cork and poured the champagne into the two crystal glasses. He handed her a glass and raised his own glass in a toast. ‘To saving Bellbrae.’

She sipped the champagne, savouring the honey and lavender notes as they burst on her tongue. ‘Mmm…lovely.’

Logan put his glass down and reached for something inside his trouser pocket. ‘I have something for you.’ He took out a vintage emerald-green velvet ring box and handed it to her.

Layla knew exactly what was inside the box. She’d helped Aunt Elsie pack away Logan’s grandmother’s things when Margaret McLaughlin had died from complications after routine surgery. The collection of beautiful heirloom jewellery had fascinated Layla so much she had secretly looked at it on many occasions when no one had been around. She knew the code to the safe where it was kept, and had even tried various pieces on, looking at herself in the mirror, pretending she was a princess about to be married to the handsome prince of her dreams.