She never got a chance to answer as her father walked into the room. He looked at Josie, then at Conan.
‘When is the funeral? Have you got it all organised?’
‘Yes, Mr Jamieson—on Tuesday at two. But I need to speak to you on another matter.’ And, suddenly snaking an arm around Josie’s waist, he hauled her into his side. Josie tensed and tried to ease away from his iron grip, but his fingers dug sharply into her side, as a warning.
‘Your daughter has kindly agreed to be my wife, and I want your blessing,’ Conan said smoothly, bending his dark head towards Josie and brushing his lips along her brow, before clasping her hand and lifting it to show her father the ring on her finger.
‘Is this true, Josephine? You are engaged to Conan?’ Her father turned puzzled eyes on her flushed face. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
Conan’s fingers dug deeper in her flesh. ‘Yes—yes, Daddy,’ she said, forcing a smile to her lips.
‘I love your daughter, Mr Jamieson, and I want to take care of her.’ Conan’s dark eyes lingered lovingly on her small face. ‘And she has made me the happiest man in the world today.’
Josie stared in dumb amazement at Conan. Talk about over the top! Her father would never believe that. She glanced at her father, and she was stunned to realise he half did...
‘Do you really think you will be happy, married to Conan?’ he queried, his pale eyes, hazed with concern, clinging to hers. ‘You don’t have to rush into marriage, you know.’
‘But I want to, Daddy’ she said firmly, and, making herself look up into Conan’s dark face, she added, ‘I have no doubt at all; I adore Conan.’
‘Well, if you’re sure Josephine,’ he said, his glance lingering on her. ‘And you do look better—you have some colour back in your face.’
The colour was the result of anger at being pressed from leg to shoulder against the hard heat of Conan’s body. But the relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from disillusioning him. ‘I’m sure, Daddy,’ she said through clenched teeth.
‘In that case, Conan, of course you have my blessing. It was good of you to ask me.’
Josie looked at her father’s smiling face and was amazed at his blindness. Conan had not asked, he had told him. Surely he’d heard the sarcasm in Conan’s tone? But apparently not.
‘I am so happy for you both,’ her father continued. ‘The death of Charles is a tragedy, but there is no point in adding tragedy upon tragedy. Josephine is a very lucky girl.’
Lucky was not how she would have put it, Josie thought as she pulled her hand free of Conan’s and he finally let her move from his side, only to find herself enfolded in her father’s arms as he hugged her tightly.
‘It’s a miracle, Josephine. I told you everything would be fine.’ Her father patted her on the head, walked over to his armchair and sat down. ‘Have you seen my paper?’ he asked.
Josie hated being patted on the head. It only accentuated her tiny stature in her mind, and added to the simmering resentment she felt against the two men in the room. She marched to the occasional table where the daily paper lay and picked it up. She was tempted to hit her dad over the head with it. Much as she loved her father, he was the world’s worst chauvinist; her opinions didn’t matter at all in comparison to Conan’s. She flashed an exasperated glance at her father’s down-bent head, then, turning, caught the gleam of wicked humour in Conan’s eyes.
‘Let me show you out,’ she snapped. She had a nasty suspicion Conan might turn out to be even more of a chauvinist than her father. Walking out into the hall, she opened the front door and stood back, expecting Conan to leave.
‘On my way over here this morning I was convinced I would have to bully you into listening to me,’ he confided as he stopped in the doorway, his large body almost filling the space. ‘I’m intrigued to discover you do possess some common sense after all, and I am delighted you have agreed to be my wife.’
‘After all...’ The nerve of the man! He had obviously thought she was an impulsive fool from the minute he’d met her. Well, she would prove him wrong, and be the perfect social wife, while giving her baby the very best start in life. ‘Yes, well, it is just business,’ Josie said firmly.
‘Of course, but take good care of the ring; it was my grandmother’s.’ His dark eyes slid down the length of her body with a possessive gleam in their golden depths, making Josie shudder inside, and for a second she questioned if his intentions really were platonic. His long, tanned fingers closed around her wrist, and she thought he was going to check the ring, but he surprised her completely by folding her hands behind her back, and easing her into close contact with his long body.
‘What...?’ she tried to pull her hands free.
‘Don’t look so frightened, Josie.’ Conan let go of her wrists. ‘I’m simply going to seal our deal with a kiss.’ Lowering his head, he closed his mouth gently over hers. His hands curved over her shoulders, and then swept lightly over her breasts and around her waist, holding her firm.
To Josie’s shame she felt her traitorous body responding. How could she? she thought wildly, and, turning her head away from his searching lips, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed as hard as she could.
‘Business, remember, a marriage of convenience, you said!’ Her eyes were shooting sparks, but, when they clashed with his, to her fury he was grinning.
‘true, but we must present the right image of a loving couple—at least until the child is born. The odd kiss will be unavoidable, and it seems to me you need the practice.’ he chuckled. ‘See you Monday,’ and he left, spinning on his heel.
Stunned, Josie simply stared at his retreating back as he walked down the short path to the road. It was only when he turned to give her a jaunty wave that she realised what she was doing, and slammed the front door. She had a horrible feeling she might have just made the biggest mistake of her life...
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN the telephone rang on Saturday morning, Josie was having second, third and fourth thoughts about the advisability of a marriage of convenience to a man like Conan. Unfortunately, she discovered very quickly it was too late to get out of it. The caller was Zoe, her friend from work.
‘You sly dog, Josie! Migraine, my eye...’ Zoe’s voice echoed down the line. ‘What was it? A hot night of passion that spun over into the morning? But I do think you could have told me. I had no idea you were even going out with a man, let alone getting engaged.’
‘How did you know?’ Josie asked when she could get a word in, not at all sure who Zoe thought she was engaged to...
‘Oh, please, Josie. The engagement is announced between Miss Josephine Jamieson, only daughter of...blah, blah, and Mr Conan Devine Zarcourt, blah, blah, blah. It’s in this morning’s Times. Mind you, I didn’t know that Conan Zarcourt lived at Beeches Manor. And how come you never even mentioned him to me?’
Josie could not believe it. After listening to Zoe ramble on, and promising to tell her the full story at work on Monday, Josie finally put the phone down, and went looking for her father.
Five minutes later her worst fear was realised. With a bit of judicious questioning of her dad she’d discovered the Major had already prepared the announcement of her engagement to Charles the day he’d learned of his death. Then he had been so upset he had left Conan to see to all the arrangements.
Her father chuckled. ‘Obviously Conan has simply substituted his own name for Charles’s. You’ve got a good man there, Josephine—clever and quick-thinking,’ he remarked happily, and for the second time in two days she felt like hitting him.