Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby

‘I told you, I finally grew up.’

Had she? She’d been so sweet back then, soft and pretty and pleasing. She’d been all things to all people. She’d had to be—her parents had demanded perfection. Liam looked out over the gardens, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about how that whole thing had played out for Victoria. ‘How are your parents? Do you see them?’

There was a moment before she answered. ‘I see them occasionally.’

Her answer was too diplomatic, too reserved. ‘Are they unhappy about you and Oliver?’ He pressed the phone closer to his ear, trying to catch the nuances.

‘Very.’

Did they blame her? He bet they did.

Oliver had told him that Victoria had a sister who’d left home as a teen. A total rebel who’d fallen in with the kind of people Victoria’s family would have nothing to do with. So they’d then had nothing to do with her. The sister had become persona non grata—her name never mentioned, memories of her life expunged from the family home. And then Liam had watched Victoria—seen the way she’d deferred and smiled and obeyed. Too afraid to ever rock the boat. But she’d spoken up with him that first night when she hadn’t known who he was. Without fear she’d been a spitfire. In company, she’d been meek. It still annoyed the hell out of him. His annoyance grew at the thought of her parents blaming her for her marriage break-up. But he couldn’t resist asking her one last question. ‘Do you ever see your sister? Did you ever track her down?’

She’d wanted to. Working late on the crêpe decorations that night, she’d mentioned the sister—and that desire— so briefly after she’d asked about his background. Then they’d both changed the subject.

Now there was silence.

‘Victoria?’ he prompted.

‘Yes, we met up a while ago.’

She spoke too cheerfully.

‘Was it okay?’

‘It was fine.’

‘Are you still in touch?’

‘We’re very different people. I send her a Christmas card.’ Her words came faster and lighter. ‘Look, I’d better go now, I’m still behind on where I need to be.’

Two seconds later Liam pocketed his phone and looked at the almost luminous green lawn. Knots turned in his stomach as if he were land-sick. He hurt for her—she was alone and she shouldn’t be. He wished it didn’t bother him. But it did.

* * *

Victoria’s phone rang the next morning at five-thirty. So he knew she’d be awake and working already? She answered on the first ring, an unstoppable smile leaping to her lips. ‘You must be really bored.’

‘I’ll come and pick you up. You have to stop for a food break some time.’

‘Food? You’re going to take me to lunch?’ ‘I was thinking sooner than that. Breakfast in bed, actually. Good idea, don’t you think?’

‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’

‘No,’ he answered. ‘I think of you, sex comes too. It’s like peaches and cream, cheese and crackers. Victoria and sex—inextricably linked.’

She giggled but a weird disappointment pressed heavy into her chest at the same time. It would only be the once and then he’d disappear from her life again. ‘So this is the only reason you’re calling me three times a day?’

In the resulting silence her discomfort grew. Because she liked talking to him. She liked laughing with him. But was all this merely a means to an end for him? He was putting in the spade work to get what little he actually wanted?

But she didn’t want to sleep with him once and then lose him from her life for ever. She wanted more of this. It dawned on her that since the move to France, she’d been lonely. She wanted to laugh more—and she laughed when she talked with him.

‘I want you to get this work done,’ he finally answered, no smile in his voice this time.

Her work? That was what he cared about really? She stopped. Her work was for Aurelie. Victoria winced, so glad he couldn’t see the mortification staining every inch of her skin red. Of course, he wanted his ex-girlfriend, the woman he’d been with almost three years, to have the wedding of her dreams. He was just passing time flirting with Victoria while keeping an eye that things were on track. A bit of fun, that was all. He didn’t mean it— well, okay, he was sexually attracted. But that was all. He didn’t want anything more. And his primary concern was for his ex. The one he’d liked enough to spend years with, not just one night.

Fair enough.

‘Well,’ she said, smiling brightly at the telephone so he wouldn’t hear how hurt she was. ‘I’d better get off and get it finished, then.’

* * *

Liam frowned as he slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. There was a vibe hurtling along the ether that he couldn’t ignore. But she had to get her work done. He couldn’t go see her—much as he wanted that breakfast in bed. He wanted Aurelie to have her nice cards and more than that he wanted Victoria to be paid and have her work noticed. He wanted what was best for Victoria.

Truth? He wanted this weekend to be over so he could go to her and finish what they’d started the other night.

She was right; his timing was lousy.

He paced. He only had a few days before he was due back on the water but he didn’t want to leave until he’d had what he wanted.

He hated himself for that. She didn’t want what he wanted. She didn’t want him to cheapen whatever she thought this was. But lust was all this was, right? Nuclear-hot chemistry. The other night it had exploded. But he’d had to walk—to let her get her work done, to let her cool down from that kiss. Because he didn’t want the regrets that a spontaneous, quick tumble would have brought.

Truthfully that insane, insatiable need had taken him by surprise. The overwhelming compulsion to bury himself inside her and stay there had been so sharp he’d run from it. Because Liam never stayed anywhere for long. He couldn’t. Not for Victoria, not for anyone. She wanted and needed more than he had to offer. He ground his jaw, clenching his muscles—because that desire was still so incredibly strong.

And he’d seen her anxiety before he’d kissed her—the flash of self-consciousness, her admission that it wasn’t going to be that good. Oliver had done that to her. He’d betrayed her by going off with another woman. Liam wanted to punch him, as Oliver had once punched him.

Oliver had let her down. Liam wanted to fix it and in that one small way he could. He could give her that relief, restore that confidence in her sensuality.

Bitterly he mocked himself. What, he thought he’d be doing her a favour?

He’d told her the truth. He was selfish. All he really wanted was her. Wanted to have her so bad he was almost certifiable.

He changed and went for a run to burn off the energy accruing inside, but he couldn’t find his rhythm—couldn’t shut his thoughts down. She’d been hurt. Not just by Oliver, but by her parents, her sister. No doubt her friends too. She didn’t want to be hurt again.

He couldn’t blame her for that.

All he could offer was one night. Nothing more. Was that fair to her?

No.

Calling her so often this week had been a mistake. He’d drop contact completely—go back to the stalemate of the last five years. Some things just weren’t meant to be.

FIVE (#ulink_105d4ef5-514d-572c-b6d3-e6cf6c6426d7)

‘Good,’ the Rottweiler disguised as the wedding planner said to Victoria.

Coming from her, the one word was effusive praise. Thank heavens. It was all Victoria could do not to collapse into the nearest chair and cry in relief.

She’d done it. She’d worked all through the night because she couldn’t sleep for thinking about Liam anyway. Work had been a distraction. She’d focused on nothing but and she’d finished it.