Marriage on the Rebound

Yes, she thought, I think perhaps I am. And she closed her eyes at the exact same moment that she swayed towards him. He caught her, muttering and cursing as he lifted her into his arms, and once again she found herself being carried by this man who had ruined her life, through to the next room and over to a huge emperor-sized bed, where he laid her before disappearing into what could only be the bathroom, judging by the sound of water running again.

He came back with a glass of water and a facecloth. He put the glass down on the bedside table, then sat down on the bed beside her to apply the cloth to her clammy brow.

His touch was gentle, the cloth deliciously cool and refreshing; his thigh where it rested lightly against her own was strangely comforting.

‘You remind me of a doll,’ he informed her drily. ‘A rather fragile, very temperamental clockwork doll who’s had her key removed.’

Dragging open her eyes, she managed a weak smile for him.

He smiled too. It was a rare sight, something she had never seen him do before, and it changed the whole structure of his face, softening its aggressively male lines and adding an extra dimension to his persona that she found rather perturbing.

Why, she didn’t know, and she frowned as she closed her eyes again.

‘Here, I want you to take these…’

Her lashes flickered upwards to find that Rafe was now holding the glass of water in one hand and two small white pills in the palm of the other.

Shaan stared at them for a moment, then shook her head. ‘No,’ she refused. ‘I don’t want sleeping tablets.’

‘These are not sleeping tablets as such,’ he assured her. ‘They’re simply some very mild relaxants you can buy over the chemist’s counter without a prescription. I use them to get me through long plane journeys,’ he explained at her dubious expression. ‘You won’t sleep unless you want to, but they will help you to relax. You’re as strung up as piano wire, Shaan,’ he added gently, and touched the back of her hand.

It was shock. Not so much his touch, but the sudden realisation that both her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. Her arms were tense, her shoulders, her neck, her legs—all locked in a tension so strong that she was literally trembling under the pressure.

‘And anyway,’ he added softly, ‘you aren’t being given a choice…’

And before she could do anything about it he had pressed her chin downwards and popped the two pills into her mouth.

She almost choked on the water which quickly followed the pills. ‘Sorry,’ he apologised at her accusing look. ‘But you need to be bullied a bit right now. It will save you from having to think for yourself.’

Yes…she had to agree with that. Thinking meant hurting, and at the moment she was hurting enough—more than enough.

On a sigh that seemed to come from some deep, dark place in her, she let her eyes close again, shutting him out—wanting to shut it all out and just let the pills do whatever they were supposed to do.

It was shock—the delayed kind of shock you hear of people experiencing where they get hit by a car then get up and walk away, only to discover they should not have been walking anywhere because they were so badly injured.

That was what she had been doing since Rafe had arrived this morning to smash her whole world apart. She was one of the walking wounded, not quite ready yet to face what had really happened to her.

Which meant when she did find the courage to face it she was going to fall apart. And when that happened she could well find herself involved in a second accident. One which trapped her so completely that she would not be able to walk away even if she wanted to.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this, Rafe,’ she murmured worriedly. ‘It isn’t right. It isn’t—’

‘I thought we’d just decided that I was going to do all the thinking,’ his quiet voice interrupted. The hand still covering one of her clenched ones, squeezed gently. ‘Trust me, Shaan,’ he murmured. ‘And I promise you I won’t let you down.’

On a sigh that signalled the end of her small burst of spirit, she retreated into malleable silence again.

Rafe remained where he was for a few moments longer, watching her. She could feel his eyes on her and wondered dully what it was he thought he was seeing. A pitiable creature called his brother’s jilted bride? Or that other Shaan, the one who had been so completely overwhelmed at their first meeting by his clear dislike of her that the person she really was had literally shrivelled up in his presence?

‘Do you dislike me so much because of Madeleine? Or because of my mixed blood?’ she heard herself ask, without really knowing she was going to say it.

Still, his response brought her eyes flicking open. ‘What—?’ he rasped. ‘Did I hear you correctly? Were you just accusing me of racial prejudice then?’

She hadn’t meant to offend him, yet seemingly that was exactly what she had done. ‘You hated to touch me,’ she reminded him. ‘Or even to look at me if you could avoid it. What else was I supposed to think?’

‘Well, not what you did think, that’s for damned well sure!’ He got up, and she felt oddly lost without him close to her. ‘You actually believed me crass enough to dislike your relationship with my brother because of your mixed race?’

He was obviously having difficulty taking that in.

She closed her eyes again, too trapped in this feeling of muscle-locked apathy to do much more than smile ruefully at his resentment.

Because the real point was, if it wasn’t her mixed race, then what was it he didn’t like about her? Because there was definitely something.

‘Get some rest,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’

Yes, later, she agreed silently as her muscles began to slacken out of the tension-lock that shock had held them in. They could discuss all of that later…

CHAPTER THREE

‘IT’S all arranged.’

Rafe came into the drawing room with his now very familiar aggressive stride, making Shaan jump because it felt as if he had only just walked out before he was back again.

But then, he had not left her alone for more than a few minutes at a time during the last forty-eight hours. And every time she had found herself with a few moments’ respite from his aggressively dictatorial presence, it had always been with a terse assurance from him that he would be back in seconds, making sure she knew that she would not have time to sink into the brooding misery they both knew lurked beneath the fragile surface of her hazy existence.

‘We get married in the morning just before your aunt and uncle leave for their cruise.’

‘Oh.’ She went pale, the sudden sinking of her heart telling her that she should not be allowing this to happen.

Rafe glanced at her, grey eyes hardening when he saw the way her small white teeth began to press into the soft cushion of her full bottom lip. ‘Jemma has agreed to stand witness for you,’ he went on firmly. ‘She wants you to ring her; I said you would.’ A wryish twist touched his mouth. ‘She’s worrying in case I’m holding you here against your will, so you’ll have to assure her that I’m not—won’t you?’

A challenge; she was receptive enough to note the challenge in his voice on that last question. ‘I…’

‘Have you got anything suitably white to wear inside those suitcases we brought with us?’ he asked as she opened her mouth to answer the first real question he had asked her in forty-eight hours—only to find herself utterly thrown by the second one.

‘I…yes…n-no…I d-don’t know…’ She blinked, her still shocked mind having difficulty keeping up with him for half of the time—and as for the other half, he just didn’t allow her to keep up. ‘W-why…?’ she managed to ask.

‘To marry me in,’ he sighed, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets as he glared into her blank black eyes. ‘You ripped your wedding dress to shreds, if you remember?’

Yes, she remembered, and shuddered. She’d ripped her lovely dress to shreds in front of Rafe, had stood totally naked in front of Rafe. She had been physically sick in front of Rafe, had let him talk her into letting him take the place of his brother…

She’d let him construct a pack of lies for her family, let him bring her here to his house, which had been turned into a positive fortress within minutes of them arriving. The big iron gates had been locked to any visitors, and the small cluster of reporters who had collected outside them had been completely ignored.

He was, she was coming to learn, the most amazingly determined man when he set his mind on something. From the moment she’d conceded to his crazy suggestion in her bedroom two days ago, he had not given her a single opportunity to withdraw her agreement.

If she opened her eyes, he was there. It didn’t matter what time of the day or night it was, Rafe was always there. Sitting, standing, pacing about the room like a caged animal until she opened her eyes. Then the orders would begin. Get up, sit down. Drink this, eat that. Take a shower, get into bed, go to sleep.

Quite simply he had taken her over, and in doing so demanded her full compliance to his every wish and command. And if he caught her brooding at any time he snapped her out of it with the guttural bark of his voice, almost cruel in his methods of keeping her mind off his brother.

Piers. A kind of anguished desolation washed over her, taking what little colour she had in her face along with it.