‘I’m afraid not, Bryony. Your father has been doing some rather shady deals over the past few years. I got wind of it and decided it was time to make him face the music, so to speak.’
‘With you as principal conductor, I suppose?’ Her look was arctic.
‘But of course.’
She took a prickly breath. ‘So what is my role in all this? You can hardly implicate me. I don’t have anything to do with the family business; I never have.’
‘That’s true; however, you do have rather an important role to play now. For unless you play it both your parents will leave Mercyfields in the back of a police van as I did ten years ago.’
It was hard to maintain her composure as a vision of her fragile mother came to mind. She felt the drum beat of fear pounding deep in her stomach, sending shockwaves all the way to her brain as she tried to imagine what he had planned for her.
What sort of sick revenge would he require to appease his bitterness over the past?
There was only one thing she thought of that would truly rock her to the core of her being, but surely he wouldn’t be thinking along those lines…
He straightened from his leaning position against her father’s desk and strode with loose-limbed grace to where she was sitting on the edge of the wing chair, her crossed leg trembling just ever so slightly as he drew nearer.
She looked up at his face and for the first time realised she had seriously underestimated him. There was a hint of ruthlessness in his glittering eyes, as if he couldn’t wait to tell her of what he had in store for her but was deliberately making her wait to draw out the agony of her suspense for his own enjoyment.
She was close to losing her head and sensed he knew it. Her mouth was dry, her hands damp and her neck and shoulders so tense she could feel a muscle spasm begin in the middle of her back, beating in time with her increasing headache.
She got to her feet, then wished she hadn’t as it brought her far too close to the wall of his body, her thighs almost touching his.
She shrank back but one of his hands came out and held her by the elbow, making escape impossible.
‘Get your filthy hands off me.’ She hissed the words at him with aristocratic hauteur.
His nostrils flared and she felt the unmistakable tightening of his grasp for endless seconds before he finally let her arm go.
She fought to keep her breathing under some sort of control but the feel of his long fingers on her had set off a host of strange electric sensations throughout her body. She felt frightened of him but drawn to him all at the same time, making her feel confused and disoriented.
‘In time you will get used to having me touch you, Bryony,’ he said. ‘You may, in fact, eventually crave it.’
‘I wouldn’t have you touch me for all the money in the world,’ she told him with stiff pride.
‘What about for all the money in the Mercer family vault?’ he asked.
‘W-what are you talking about?’
He gave her an unfathomable look. ‘You see, that is my plan for you, Bryony. Your parents will maintain their freedom and, as I’m feeling generous, a certain level of financial support, but on one condition and one condition only.’
She gave one tiny nervous swallow before she could stop herself. ‘Which is?’ she asked, not really wanting to know the answer, somehow sensing it wasn’t going to be what she wanted to hear.
And she was right.
It wasn’t.
‘I want you to be my wife.’
CHAPTER TWO
BRYONY knew she was giving a very good imitation of a stranded fish, with her mouth opening and closing in shock, but there was little she could do to stop it.
‘You’re a whole two months early for April Fool’s day,’ she said when she could find her voice.
‘This is not a joke, Bryony.’
‘You surely don’t expect me to take this seriously?’
‘If you want your parents to avoid the weight of the law, then yes, I do.’
‘This has got to be some sort of sick joke!’ she insisted. ‘It has to be!’
‘No.’
His one word answer upset her more than if he’d rattled off an entire dictionary of words at her.
Her long stunned silence came to a jarring end when he announced with implacable calm, ‘You will be my wife within a fortnight or both of your parents will be staring at the four walls of a cell.’
‘You definitely need a little work on the proposal, Kane.’ Her tone was deliberately dry to disguise her distress. ‘It makes one wonder how you approached the whole issue of dating over the last few years. What did you do? Drag the nearest woman off by the hair?’
‘No, I never found I had to resort to such tactics.’
‘What did you do? Pay them?’
‘Careful, Bryony,’ he warned her silkily. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to test my control too much. I might be tempted to walk away with the lot and let your parents face a judge and jury all on their own.’
She wished she had the courage to call his bluff, but as her father’s business affairs were so unknown to her it made her realize she was at a distinct disadvantage.
‘I can’t imagine why you would want to marry me.’ She injected her tone with icy disdain. ‘We have nothing in common.’
‘I take it you’re referring to the fact that you have what your family likes to think of as blue blood while mine is, shall we say, a little contaminated?’
‘Your entire brain is seriously contaminated if you think I would ever agree to be your wife. I wouldn’t even agree to be your neighbour, much less live with you in a relationship such as marriage.’
‘It’s understandable you’d find the notion of marriage to me a little distasteful, but in time you may come to see it as justice well served.’
‘My parents would never allow such a marriage to take place,’ she said with somewhat shaky conviction. ‘It would break their hearts to have their only daughter marry the illegitimate son of one of their previous housekeepers.’
‘Your parents have expressed their distress but wisely realize what’s at stake. They’ve given their permission, not that I needed it, of course. I would have gone ahead without it anyway.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ She gave him a scornful glare. ‘Isn’t the bride supposed to accept the proposal?’
‘You have no choice other than to accept.’
‘Well, here’s news for you, Kane Kaproulias. I do not accept your outrageous proposal. You’d have to have me drugged and hogtied to get me within a bell’s toll of a church to marry you.’
‘I wasn’t thinking along the lines of a church wedding.’
She stamped her foot on the carpet at her feet. ‘There is not going to be any sort of wedding!’
He continued calmly, as if she hadn’t just screeched at him. ‘It will be a civil ceremony with the minimum of guests.’
‘The last thing I’d call you is civil,’ she tossed back. ‘You’re acting like a primitive jerk issuing these stupid commands like some sort of dictator.’
‘I can be very civil when I need to be, Bryony, but if my buttons are pressed a little too often I’m afraid you might find me less than urbane.’
‘I