His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride

‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ There was a touch of grimness in his tone.

She turned her head, and gazed fixedly out of the window. She thought she heard him sigh, but couldn’t be sure.

She bit her lip. She should be the one with regrets. And Joel had little enough to complain about. He was her nominal husband, and Gavin’s legal son-in-law, which should keep the Werner Langton board quiet. And that was all that was required.

Before too long, the smooth motion of the car, the cushioned comfort of the seat and the rush of the passing landscape produced their own soporific effect, and Darcy found her eyes closing. But she wasn’t going to actually sleep, she told herself drowsily. Of course she wasn’t, because where Joel Castille was concerned she needed to keep her wits about her.

The next thing she knew was Joel’s voice saying with faint amusement, ‘Wake up, Darcy, we’re nearly there.’

She sat up instantly, pushing at her hair with a defensive hand. ‘I knew that, thank you.’

His brows lifted. ‘Fibber,’ he said softly. ‘But I have to tell you that you look very lovely when you’re not being tired. You even snore beautifully.’

She said between her teeth, ‘I wasn’t really asleep and I do not snore.’

His lips twitched. ‘Of course not, sweetheart. Whatever you say.’

She sent him a fulminating look, then, still disorientated, took a belated glance out of the car window. And stiffened. Because there was no sign of the quiet Chelsea square she was expecting. On the contrary, the car seemed to be caught up in the approach to a major airport.

She turned on Joel. ‘What’s happening? Where are we?’

‘Just coming into Heathrow.’

‘Heathrow?’ Darcy stared at him, her forehead puckered in bewilderment. ‘Are you being dropped off here for some business trip?’

‘By no means. We’re here to catch a flight to the Caribbean for our honeymoon.’

She was wide awake now, and sitting upright, her heart beating like a trip hammer.

She said, ‘You don’t really mean that. You can’t.’

‘I certainly do. After the wedding ceremony, the happy couple depart for a week or two of blissful seclusion. That’s the convention.’

‘But this isn’t a conventional marriage.’ She managed to keep her voice steady.

‘In some ways it will be,’ he told her coolly. ‘And this is one of them. I thought some relaxation in the sun might do us both good. And I think you’ll like Augustina. It’s a very small island belonging to a property developer I met in the States a few years back. He’s built a hotel there, and scattered a dozen or so thatched bungalows through the grounds.

‘The emphasis is on peace and quiet, and I’m all for that. Besides, your father thinks you’ve been looking pale and tense recently. He feels you need a break.’

But not like this. Never like this…

She said huskily, ‘You didn’t think to mention this scheme to me in advance?’

‘I decided to surprise you instead,’ he said silkily.

‘Surprise,’ she said between her teeth, ‘is not the word.’ She shook her head. ‘I see now why I had to get a new passport in such a hurry. Business trips, Dad told me.’

‘So there will be,’ Joel said. His smile seemed to graze her skin. ‘But for once, I thought pleasure could come before business.’

‘What about my luggage?’ she said, her desperation increasing. ‘I’ve nothing suitable packed. My summer things are all in London.’

‘Your father arranged for Mrs Inman to put some swimwear and leisure gear in a case for you,’ he said. ‘And there are shops at the hotel. You can blow my credit cards to hell and back.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

But she was lying. She felt no sense of anticipation about any of it, just sick with fright.

‘Our check-in’s over there,’ Joel told her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I—I see.’

I can’t do this, she thought frantically. I have to get away.

The terminal was heaving as usual. It shouldn’t be impossible to give Joel the slip, she thought, trying to calculate whether she had sufficient cash on her to pay for a cab to London. Once she got there, she could go to Lois—take cover there. Joel wouldn’t follow her. She was sure of it. Because that would reveal that his bride had preferred to run out on him, rather than accompany him on their honeymoon, and his pride would never allow that.

She made herself glance around deliberately casually, then consult her watch. ‘Have I got time to buy a couple of books?’

‘You feel time may hang heavy on your hands?’ he enquired ironically, then relented. ‘Why not wait until we get to the island? They’ll sell books at the hotel.’

‘I have the flight to get through first,’ she reminded him coolly, and saw his eyes narrow slightly. ‘May I get something for you? A newspaper or a magazine?’

‘No, thank you,’ Joel said too courteously. ‘Why not pick up a game of Scrabble or Snakes and Ladders, as well, just in case things get really boring?’

‘Good thinking,’ she said sweetly. ‘Or even Monopoly. That takes a very long time. Never a dull moment.’

She walked off, taking care not to hurry. When she risked a glance over her shoulder, the crowds had closed in, and Joel was nowhere to be seen.

Which was just what she wanted. She looked around, trying to get her bearings—the most direct route to a taxi rank.

She was nearly at the exit, when a hand fell on her shoulder, halting her.

‘Still looking for the bookshop, darling?’ Joel asked pleasantly. ‘I think you’re going in the wrong direction. And I’d hate you to get lost.’ He took her hand firmly in his. ‘So let’s deal with the rest of the formalities, shall we? Together? Now?’

She swallowed. ‘Please,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Please don’t make me do this.’

‘I’m offering you a holiday in the sun, sweetheart,’ he drawled. ‘And I’ve no intention of going alone. And if you really need something to read on the plane, then I’ve brought some stuff about the island. By the time we get there you should be an expert.’

They were, of course, travelling first class, and the tall, attractive brunette who told them she was Fiona, their cabin hostess, was serving them champagne, accompanied by a red rose for Darcy.

She was smiling and professional, but Darcy intercepted the envious look she was sent as the girl turned away to deal with other passengers. A look that shouted she knew Darcy was on honeymoon with the most attractive man on the aircraft, and frankly wished she was in her place.

Not nearly as much as I do, Darcy silently assured her.

She sipped her champagne and began to look through the information on Augustina, her heart sinking.

It certainly seemed idyllic, she thought. An environment designed for couples to enjoy romantic seclusion, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Each of the bungalows had a private swimming pool and its own plot of tropical garden, leading down to the long stretch of sandy beach.