Clara swayed down the aisle beside Jared. Her blonde beauty had always drawn admiring looks from men, but her fame as a television actress drew just as many. Long sunshine-yellow hair fell in curls to her narrow waist and the wide-brimmed cream hat gave her an air of mystery that enhanced her natural glamour. She wore a cream silk dress which hugged her slender curves. And she was ravishing. Her face was heart-shaped. Luminous green eyes invited love. A full pink mouth invited kisses. And Jared was the recipient of those kisses, every man seemed to think, staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy. He was as powerfully masculine as Clara was sensual and feminine.
Outside in the sunlight, the London churchyard was filling up with well-dressed guests. A trestle table stood close to the arched doors, covered in linen, champagne, glasses and silver ice-buckets.
Jared spotted the champagne immediately. ‘Perfect! Just what I need after all that romantic nonsense.’
‘I thought it was a beautiful ceremony.’
‘You would,’ he drawled, and strode purposefully to the trestle table to get himself a glass of champagne.
Clara waited by the steps of the church, studying the handsome man who was her lover and the only man she’d ever truly loved. If weddings upset him this much, there didn’t seem any chance he’d ever propose to her. Yet Clara couldn’t understand why. Jared had such sensitivity and intelligence. He’d moved naturally into love from the beginning, and Clara had barely to lift a finger to find their relationship flowing freely with love and trust. So why, she wondered, should he hate weddings and marriage with equal passion? He was already living with Clara as though they were man and wife. Clearly it wasn’t living with a woman that put him off marriage—so what could it be?
He came back, handed her a glass of champagne. ‘Here’s to getting out of this delightful little churchyard as soon as possible.’
‘Honestly, Jared! Why are you so anti-weddings?’
‘Because I’m a normal red-blooded male and you wouldn’t have me any other way.’
She laughed softly, eyes tracing his handsome face with love. ‘Well, I can’t deny that. I’m rather partial to your red blood. In fact, it preys on my mind night and day. But seriously, darling—can’t you see how lovely all this is? The bride, the bridesmaids, the—’
‘Looks like an extravagant waste of money to me.’
‘Coming from a multi-millionaire with two private jets, two private yachts and several homes around the globe—’
‘I can afford to waste money.’
‘So can the groom’s family.’
His face tightened. ‘Will you shut up about it?’ he bit out as anger flared in his eyes without warning. ‘I’m sick to death of this damned wedding! You’ve talked of nothing else for weeks! Let’s just get it over with as fast as possible and get home!’
Stunned, she just stared at him, her lips parted in shock. He had been agitated for the last few days, veering sharply between loving behaviour and sudden bursts of temper. She had put it down to the wedding, because he always played up at weddings. But now she wondered if there was something else on his mind. Something at work, perhaps? Maybe even something to do with money. But how could money be bothering him? He had more of it than Midas.
Moving closer, she put a loving hand on his cheek. ‘Darling, you will tell me if something’s wrong, won’t you?’ Her eyes scanned his face. ‘I mean—you won’t just hide it and try to deal with it alone, will you?’
‘All that’s wrong is that I need to peel that lovely dress off you,’ he drawled, and slid one strong arm around her waist, pulling her slowly towards him. ‘I’ve wanted to make love to you since I woke up this morning. But all you could think of was the wedding, the wedding, the damned wedding!’
‘I’ll make it up to you as soon as we get home,’ she promised huskily in his ear.
‘Make sure we get home quickly, then.’ His mouth moved over her cheek; his breath fanned her naked throat. ‘I want you as soon as possible. Naked but for creamy stockings and that hat. I’ll enjoy all that ladylike elegance as I push you over the bed…’
She responded instantly, fire in her blood. Erotic images exploded in her mind and excitement glittered in her half-closed eyes. She forgot all about her fear that something was wrong, because now she knew precisely what it was. He needed her. That was all that was bothering him. Her body curved seductively against his and she shivered at the touch of his hot mouth on her skin. Eyes closing, head tilted back, she must have looked as though she was already naked in his arms.
‘Would you like that, darling?’ He let one of his long fingers slide down her naked throat, ‘Because as soon as I get you home I’m going to do all of that to you and more—’
‘Jared, darling!’ Susie’s voice rang with happiness as she interrupted their private loveplay. ‘Stop seducing my sister in front of half of London!’
Jared’s whole body tensed. ‘Ah!’ he drawled, lifting his head with a tight, set face. ‘The radiant bride.’
Clara came out of her sensual reverie with a dazed look in her eyes. She heard the faint bite of his tone. A frown touched her brow.
‘That sounds as though you’re saying: “Ah! The piranha!”’ Susie looked as thrown by his remark as Clara felt. She looked from one to the other, then gave a bright laugh, trying to soften the edge that had crept into the sunny afternoon. ‘Surely even you don’t begrudge my radiance on what is, after all, my wedding day?’
Jared smiled, but his body was tense and Clara told herself it was because of desire. He often got like this. He was sometimes a walking volcano when it came to physical tension. Many times he had come home from work at the end of a long day and made love to Clara for hours, sometimes four or five times a night. He released emotion through making love…
‘Of course not.’ Jared’s impeccable manners returned and his cool voice said, ‘You have my very best wishes and congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’ Susie beamed.
‘I just wish we could all get to the reception as fast as possible,’ Jared said with a tight smile. ‘That’s all. I’d like to sit down, have a drink—’
‘More champagne, Mr Blackheath, sir?’ An usher popped up, brandishing a jeroboam.
Jared watched furiously as he poured.
‘There, you see?’ Susie said when the usher had gone. ‘You’ve just been sitting down and now you’ve got champagne flowing wherever you turn! What more could any man ask for?’
‘Privacy. You forget—there are photographers around. I always feel uneasy when they can take pictures of Clara and I without my permission.’
Clara frowned. He didn’t mind publicity. On the contrary—he actively sought it. It helped his businesses. Publicity always did. The higher the profile, the more business he attracted. That was the way it worked in any sphere of life, and Jared was nothing if not an arch self-publicist. So why was he lying? More to the point—why was he so tense and edgy? Her instincts were buzzing at her from the back of her mind. But no matter what she did or how she looked at things, she could not find a rational explanation for his agitated emotional state.
Susie bit her lip. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to pose for the wedding pictures in a minute. Will that be a problem?’
‘The photos,’ he muttered thickly, and his hand tightened on Clara’s waist as he stood stiffly, his arm around her. ‘I’d forgotten about them…’
Concern lit her eyes as she studied him. ‘Is anything wrong, darling?’ she murmured.
‘Why should anything be wrong?’ he demanded tersely.
‘So you will pose with us?’ Susie said at once. ‘Oh,