The Reluctant Fiancee. JACQUELINE BAIRD

wedding night. What a lie!

      Sadly Bea realised he probably didn’t even want her in a sexual way. No, what he wanted was control of her share of the company. With that thought her sorrow began to change, and by the time she was standing in front of the mirror once more, about to put on her make-up, she wasn’t sad but mad... Mad with a cold fury. Then it came to her—a way to escape with her pride intact and without revealing what she knew.

      In the end it was simple. Bea walked into the dining room, not a scrap of make-up on her pale face, her long hair tied up in a childish ponytail and wearing the simple blue and white candy-striped dress she had included in her luggage, thinking it would come in useful if she were messing around. She knew she looked ridiculously young, but that was the idea.

      Tany, Leon’s stepmother, Amy and Selina were elegantly gowned and already seated at the table. But Leon was standing near the door and crossed straight to Bea’s side. He bent his head to kiss her. She saw it coming and deliberately moved so that his lips brushed her cheek and not her mouth.

      ‘Something the matter, Phoebe?’ he asked solicitously.

      Bea almost snapped back, Yes, you, you snake! But, biting her tongue, she simply turned her face up to his, giving him the full benefit of her red, swollen eyes. ‘Not exactly.’

      ‘Please sit down, you two. We want to eat,’ Tany commanded.

      Leon cast Bea a worried. glance, but held out a chair for her and then slid into the one next to her.

      It was Tany who noticed first. ‘Bea, where is your ring, child? You don’t want to lose it. Knowing Leon, it will have cost a fortune. And what has happened to your eyes?’

      Dramatically Bea pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet, acting for all she was worth. The last thing she felt like doing was sharing a dinner with this group.

      ‘Please, you will have to excuse me. I’m not hungry.’ Glancing down at Leon’s upturned face, surprise and puzzlement evident in his expression, she added, ‘I really am terribly sorry but it has all been a mistake. I realised this afternoon. It is beautiful here, but I—I am h-homesick.’ She deliberately stuttered. ‘I miss my friends and Lil, and the cool English summer, and I don’t want to get married, not yet.’

      A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, lending credit to her story, but in actual fact it was a tear of self-pity, an emotion she despised. Brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, she saw Leon’s dark eyes narrow assessingly on her pale face. Then slowly he got to his feet, and tried to put an arm around her shoulders.

      ‘Don’t be silly, Phoebe. It’s probably just bridal nerves.’ He smiled. ‘I promise everything will be fine.’

      Patronising swine, she thought, and, twisting out from under his arm, she turned to face him.

      ‘It will not be all right because I do not want to marry you. I want to go home and get on with my studies, my life. I’m sorry. I think it was because of my father dying so recently. I needed a father figure, and so I latched onto you. But that is no reason to get married.’

      It took every ounce of nerve and self-control Bea possessed to hold Leon’s now angry gaze and deliver her final comment. ‘I realise now I’m not ready for marriage or commitment. I’m only just eighteen, far too young, and you...well, you’re...’ She trailed off, not so subtly implying that Leon was too old for her.

      It had been the reference to age that had clinched it, Bea mused, safely ensconced on the aeroplane back to England the next day. In her mind’s eye she could still see the look of frustrated fury on his darkly handsome face as Selina and Amy had had the temerity to laugh.

      True, he had made another attempt to change her mind much later. He had walked into her bedroom and tried, with his sexual expertise, to kiss her into submission. But knowing his lover Selina was downstairs had given Bea the strength to remain cold in his arms. How long she could have continued doing so was anybody’s guess. Because she’d still wanted him, even as she’d hated herself for feeling that way. But the arrival of Tany to check that Bea was all right had stopped Leon cold. And, in Tany’s presence, Bea had given him back his ring.

      

      Yawning widely, Bea turned over and curled up into a foetal position. She yawned again. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of her life. The past was past. Leon was no threat to her peace of mind any more, she told herself groggily. As for her reaction to his kiss earlier, it was simply because she had drunk too much champagne and he had caught her off guard. It would never happen again. Only a fool made the same mistake twice, and at twenty-one, with a degree in her pocket, Bea was nobody’s fool...

      The drive down to London was not as bad as Bea had expected. The Sunday traffic was light, and she arrived at the underground car park of the mansion block that housed her late father’s apartment at five in the evening. It was a simple matter to transfer her two suitcases to the lift, and moments later she was plonking them on the bed in the only bedroom.

      Her father had originally had his office in Newcastle, but after the death of Nick Gregoris, and Leon taking the place of his father, the firm had expanded rapidly. The English headquarters had been moved to London, at Leon’s instigation. Bea had been twelve when her father had begun travelling to London on a Monday and staying two or three days, safe in the knowledge that Bea was at school all day and Lil was there to look after her.

      Glancing around the familiar bedroom, Bea thought fondly of the times in the school holidays when her dad had taken her to London with him occasionally. With a shake of her fair head, she told herself not to get sentimental, and set about unpacking her belongings.

      Ten minutes later she stared in amazement at the kitchen table. Someone had anticipated her arrival. A huge vase full of red roses was at the centre, and propped against it was an envelope. Picking it up, she quickly slit it open and withdrew a sheet of notepaper. She recognised the bold, sloping writing immediately. It was from Leon—a rather childish poem.

      Enjoy the roses while you may

      Tomorrow is a working day. The fridge is stocked, the larder too Behave yourself until I’m with you.

      A small smile twitched her full lips; she had forgotten. Almost every time she had seen Leon when she was a child he had made up a stupid rhyme for her. She racked her brain, trying to remember the first one.

      The lovely lady fair

      Almost lost her hair By playing near a willow When she should have been asleep on her pillow

      Bea’s grin broadened. Leon had been good fun as an uncle figure. Pity their relationship had not stayed that way. The smile faded from her face to be replaced with a frown.

      What did he mean, until I’m with you? The note fell unnoticed from her hand and quickly she turned around. Bea opened the refrigerator door and was not surprised to see it stocked full, including a bottle of white wine. The cupboard was the same. Uneasily she walked into the living room and glanced around. Had Leon been here? And, more importantly, how the hell had he got in? She had the only key. Anyway, he was supposed to be in America.

      Suddenly the safety of her apartment seemed threatened, and she didn’t like it, not one bit... Think, woman, think, she told herself. Of course! A sigh of relief escaped her and she sank down on the sofa. The caretaker had a master key. Leon must have sent the note and instructions to provide the goodies to the caretaker.

      Relieved to have the mystery settled, she made full use of the food provided to make herself an omelette and salad, washed down with a glass of wine, then she went to bed.

      

      ‘Ready to go yet, Bea?’

      Bea glanced up and smiled at the tall red-headed girl asking the question. Actually, Margot was a woman in every sense of the word, about thirty-eight years old. As personal assistant to Tom Jordan, she knew everything about the business.

      ‘I thought, if you have nothing special to do tonight, we could stop off for a pizza and a glass of wine or two on the way home.’