Paper Marriages: Wife: Bought and Paid For / His Convenient Marriage / A Convenient Wife. JACQUELINE BAIRD. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: JACQUELINE BAIRD
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781408905838
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      ‘Yes, please.’ Why not? Maybe getting drunk was not such a bad idea. Face it, she told herself, it is the only one you have left.

      His slate-grey eyes raked over her expressive features, pinning her gaze. ‘Not a good idea. Alcohol never solved anything. Trust me, I know.’

      He was a mind-reader as well; why didn’t that surprise her? Letting her lips curl in a brief smile, she taunted, ‘You would, oh, mighty one, font of all knowledge, seducer of hundreds of women.’

      ‘I will take that as a joke… this time,’ Solo warned with a hint of steel, and she wondered at her own nerve in goading him.

      ‘Have some champagne.’ He poured the sparkling liquid into the glass provided. ‘A toast to our marriage and us. It can be as happy as you choose to make it, Penny.’

      ‘Why is it up to me?’ she asked dryly. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, it takes two to make a marriage.’

      Solo leaned back in his chair, his handsome face expressionless. ‘Because I know what I want from this marriage,’ he declared with thoughtful deliberation. ‘But I’m not sure you do.’

      ‘I don’t actually want to marry you at all. I simply want to prevent being declared a bankrupt and keep a roof over my brother’s and my head,’ she slashed back bluntly. ‘And as you are hardly likely to spend much time at Haversham Park, and I am certainly not going anywhere else, it will be a temporary marriage of hopefully brief duration.’ Her life was full enough with James and her fledgling writing career to look after. What the hell! As long as she wasn’t pregnant, she could come out of the sorry mess smelling of roses, with Solo the villain. After all, he already had a long-term mistress in Tina Jenson.

      Lifting her glass, she pinned a dazzling smile on her face. ‘To us,’ and she drained the glass. ‘But tell me,’ she said, placing the glass on the table and glancing across into his flintlike eyes. He was so confident and incredibly attractive, he mesmerised and made her want to murder him in equal parts. ‘How did your PA react to your news, or haven’t you told her yet?’

      One ebony brow arched sardonically. ‘An interest in my business? You do surprise me.’

      ‘Well, rumour has it Tina Jenson is something more than your PA,’ Penny said with a brittle smile. ‘I do hope you have informed her of your forthcoming nuptials, it is only good manners,’ she ended facetiously.

      His grey eyes became coldly remote on her mutinous face. ‘Of course,’ he drawled. ‘Tina as my PA is aware of my movements at all times.’

      Anger hot and instant scorched Penny’s cheeks. ‘I’ll just bet she is.’ To think Tina was his lover was bad enough, but to have it tacitly confirmed by the arrogant devil was too much.

      He watched her with merciless eyes. ‘As for the rest,’ he said cuttingly. ‘I never listen to rumour, and neither should you.’

      ‘So you never slept with Tina?’ The question just popped out and Penny could have kicked herself.

      ‘I didn’t say that,’ he corrected silkily. ‘But it is nice to know you are jealous, Penny, darling.’

      CHAPTER SIX

      PENNY watched him drink his second cup of coffee with bleary eyes. Solo had eaten a good breakfast, ham, eggs and three pastries, with apparent enjoyment, while she had struggled to swallow one of the delicious pastries. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, his silver-grey eyes smiling at her across the top of his cup.

      ‘I’ve been in touch with decorators and Brownie, and with a bit of luck by the time we have to return to England at least the paintwork at Haversham Park will not be so bilious.’

      ‘You’ve what?’ she exclaimed. ‘Who gave you the right to instigate the decoration of my home.’

      ‘Our home, Penelope,’ he drawled sardonically.

      He was right again. They were seated at a table outside on the terrace, the sun was warm on her bare shoulders. Italy in May was a lot warmer than England and she had dressed accordingly in a cropped white cotton top and a short denim skirt. But suddenly she felt cold. She tilted her chin. ‘You should have consulted me anyway,’ she flared, her pride stung.

      ‘I didn’t think it was necessary. Brownie assured me she remembers all the original colours.’ Solo shrugged. ‘I thought that would do for now as I remember it being very attractively decorated.’

      He had been talking to Brownie behind her back, and that hurt. Solo had taken over her home and now the loyalty of the one person Penny trusted above all others.

      ‘Later we can discuss any alterations that need to be made, perhaps a new nursery.’ At her arrested gasp a glint of amusement flickered in his grey eyes. ‘You must consider the possibility, Penny, as you so succinctly pointed out we took no precautions.’

      ‘Well, if it ever happens again, you better make damn sure you do.’ Penny hated him for stating cold, hard facts. It was all his fault she might be pregnant.

      The amusement vanished from his eyes. ‘Oh, it will happen again, and again, of that you can be sure,’ he stated emphatically, shooting her a penetrating glance. ‘As for protection, if the thought of having my child so horrifies you—’ his mouth thinned in a tight, ominous line ‘—I suggest you wait until we see what nature intends this month, and then I will introduce you to my doctor, and you can take the pill.’

      If Penny had not known better, she would have thought she had deeply offended him, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He had made it very plain their relationship was strictly sexual, and of a temporary nature. With Tina in the background it could never be anything else. Why the thought depressed her, she didn’t dare question.

      ‘We don’t have to get married,’ she said quietly.

      ‘Yes, we do.’ Solo eyed her with cool implacability. ‘I was born a bastard and no child of mine will suffer the same fate.’

      ‘I thought your parents were dead!’ Penny exclaimed.

      ‘My mother is, she died when I was ten; my father, I have no idea. He was an American sailor, and my mother a whore.’

      ‘That’s terrible,’ Penny murmured, her tender heart aching as she pictured Solo as a small boy without family. ‘I can’t imagine not having a home and family.’ She lifted green eyes moist with sympathy to his. ‘It must have been awful for you.’

      ‘No, it was the making of me. The streets of Naples were my home. As for family, who needs one? Neither your father or your stepmother were particularly kind to you, or you would not be here now. Save your pity for someone who needs it,’ he declared callously. ‘Yourself perhaps, because you are still going to marry me. The arrangements have been made, and I will not be made to look a fool in my home town.’

      Penny said nothing. But the insight into his upbringing or lack of it had a profound effect on her troubled mind. She could not get the picture of a young Solo having to fend for himself out of her mind. He had every material thing a man could want, wealth, power, stunning good looks, a home. A home filled with perfect objects, and who could blame him for collecting only the best, when he had started life with nothing? No wonder he had insisted on marriage, any child of Solo’s would have everything the world could provide.

      She cast him a surreptitious glance through the thick fringe of her lashes—but would the child have love? He was so cold, so controlled, but, beneath the hard exterior was he capable of love? As a teenager she had once thought so; he had been light-hearted and had made her laugh, for a few short weeks they had had fun… Later he had made her cry. Perhaps it was not impossible to recapture something of the past.

      But for the duration of the meal the conversation was limited to generalities.

      Later, acting as though he were a tourist guide, Solo showed her around his home. She stared in amazement at the paintings in the main salon. She recognised a genuine Matisse, and her eyes boggled at the exquisite