Bride for Hire. Jessica Hart

spoke of arrogance and power. His eyes were the cold colour of iron beneath that alarming frown, the angles of his face fierce and unyielding and his mouth utterly ruthless. Too late Daisy realised that she was staring at it, and her stomach contracted in an odd mixture of apprehension and fascination.

      ‘I was just trying to decide what you were doing here,’ Seth said slowly at last, his American drawl very pronounced. It was odd that a voice so deep could sound so cold.

      Daisy tore her eyes away from his face and tried to pull herself together. ‘You asked me to come,’ she said a little uncertainly. ‘Don’t you remember? We are going to discuss your proposition.’

      ‘I was going to discuss my proposition with Dee Pearce,’ he said flatly. ‘I want to know who you are.’

      ‘I am Dee,’ said Daisy, but she knew that she was beginning to look hunted.

      ‘I don’t think so.’ Seth propped himself against a table and folded his arms, surveying Daisy with sardonic grey eyes. ‘Ed described Dee to me as a stunning blonde.’ His cold gaze swept over her dismissively. ‘Even allowing for Ed’s undoubted talent for exaggeration, I wouldn’t have said that description fits you, would you?’

      Daisy bit her lip. Why couldn’t Dee Pearce have been dark and ordinary-looking? She wondered if it was worth claiming that she always wore a wig whenever she met Ed, but a glance at Seth’s implacable mouth made her abandon that idea. He was quite capable of telling her that a wig wouldn’t be enough to make her stunning.

      ‘Probably not,’ she sighed reluctantly, and was astonished to see a gleam of amusement dissolve the coldness in the grey eyes, transforming his expression for a brief, unnerving instant before they shuttered once more.

      ‘If you’re not Dee Pearce, who are you?’

      ‘My name’s Daisy Deare,’ she said, and saw his brows lift in inevitable mockery. ‘That’s Deare with an “e”,’ she added with dignity.

      ‘Well, Daisy Dear-with-an-“e”,’ he said sardonically, ‘perhaps you’d like to explain what you’re doing here under false pretences?’

      Daisy was thinking fast. ‘I’m a friend of Dee’s,’ she said. ‘She...she’d already arranged to go away for three months when she got your letter, but she knew how much I wanted to go to the Caribbean so she suggested I come in her place. We...er...we often help each other out.’

      ‘Do you now?’ Daisy didn’t like the unpleasant note in Seth’s voice. She had a nasty feeling that he hadn’t believed a word. ‘And are you an actress, too, Daisy Deare?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Daisy firmly. She hadn’t performed in public since a humiliating appearance as a sweet pea in an end-of-term ballet, aged seven, but she was beginning to suspect that Dee Peace didn’t spend that much time on stage either. ‘Only I’m resting at the moment, so I could go to the Caribbean whenever you wanted.’

      Seth ignored that hint. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this when I called?’ he asked abruptly.

      ‘I thought it would be easier to explain face to face. Besides,’ she went on with an ingenuous look, ‘you might not have agreed to see me if I hadn’t said I was Dee.’

      ‘I wouldn’t,’ Seth told her grimly. ‘I only approached Dee in the first place because Ed assured me she was very discreet, and now I find that she gaily passes on my letter to the first out-of-work actress she comes across who fancies a trip to the Caribbean!’

      ‘She wouldn’t have told me if she hadn’t known that I was discreet too,’ said Daisy, who was surprising herself with her own facility for lying. ‘Anyway,’ she went on frankly, ‘I don’t know anything to be indiscreet about yet. Your letter was as clear as mud! But it sounded as if you needed someone who was uncommitted and, since Dee couldn’t make it, I’d have thought you’d have been pleased that she arranged for someone suitable to come instead.’

      ‘I might have been if she had sent someone suitable,’ he snapped. ‘As it is, you’re the exact opposite of what I had in mind. I need someone sophisticated. and glamorous.’ The cold gaze raked disparagingly from her soft, tousled curls down to her grey leggings and the faded yellow canvas shoes she wore with them. ‘You don’t look much more than a schoolgirl!’

      ‘I’m twenty-three,’ said Daisy, ruffled by that insultingly impersonal scrutiny. ‘And I may not look very glamorous at the moment but that’s because you told me to look discreet, if you remember!’

      ‘It’s possible to look discreet without looking like Orphan Annie,’ Seth retorted. It was stuffy in the room and he shrugged off his jacket as he straightened, tossing it over the arm of a sofa before prowling round the back of the sofa and over to the window. It was open to the early summer sunshine, and Daisy could hear the traffic grumbling down Park Lane. He stood, looking down at it, for a moment then turned back to Daisy. ‘From what I hear about Dee—if you’re a friend of hers I imagine that those big blue eyes of yours aren’t as innocent as they look, but I doubt that anyone would believe for a minute that I was seriously interested in you.’

      Daisy didn’t know whether to feel relieved or offended. ‘Is that what you want?’

      ‘I need a decoy.’ Seth was unbuttoning his cuffs, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt, the relaxed intimacy of his actions at odds with his brisk tone. ‘I may as well tell you what this is about and then you’ll appreciate why you’re not suitable, but you’d better be as discreet as you say you are.’

      ‘Of course,’ she said, resenting his tone.

      ‘All right, then.’ He came back and flung himself into a chair opposite her, obviously working out how he could tell her as little as possible. ‘I’m thinking of getting married,’ he began.

      Whatever Daisy had been expecting, it wasn’t that. She stared at him, conscious of a quite absurd trace of wistfulness as she wondered what it would be like to marry someone like Seth Carrington; to see that hard face soften with love. Of course she wouldn’t want to. So far he had shown himself to be brusque, arrogant and downright unpleasant. He was the last kind of man she would want to marry. On the other hand, it would be nice to be able to confide all your problems to someone so strong and patently capable of dealing with them... Seth Carrington looked like a man who would guard his own, unlike Robert who was always so infuriatingly understanding about everything.

      With a jerk, Daisy recalled herself to the present. ‘Er...congratulations,’ she offered, not at all clear what her own role in all of this was to be.

      Seth looked faintly exasperated at her reaction, and she wondered if he suspected her of being sarcastic. ‘I’ve managed to avoid marriage up to now,’ he said repressively, ‘but Astra is a very special lady, and our companies complement each other. Marriage would be an ideal merger in every way.’

      Daisy regarded him with puzzled blue eyes. He sounded pretty cool about the whole idea. Anyone would think that the business merger interested him more than his future wife, no matter what he might say about her being a special lady. Then another thought occurred to her and she sat up. It wasn’t exactly a common name...‘Astra?’

      ‘Astra Bentingger.’

      ‘Astra Bentingger?’ Daisy’s voice rose to a squeak. Astra Bentingger had inherited one of the largest fortunes in the world at the age of eighteen but, far from being crushed by the responsibility, she had taken her vast business into her own capable hands and made herself even richer. Barely a week went by without her picture appearing in some newspaper or magazine. Clever, effortlessly beautiful, fluent in five languages, known and courted and gossiped about the world over, Astra Bentingger was a name to conjure with. The original Superwoman, thought Daisy glumly, intimidated by the mere idea of her.

      She looked at Seth with a touch of awe. If he was contemplating marriage with Astra Bentingger he must be even richer and more powerful than she had thought at first. It was well known that Astra only liked men who played in the same league...