Unwanted Wedding. PENNY JORDAN

at her, Rosy recognised in sudden, dizzy confusion, in a way she had never envisaged seeing him look at any woman, but most especially not her.

      She blinked a little, her own eyes darkening as they were caught and held in a gaze of such smouldering sensuality that it actually made her physically shiver. When had Guard’s eyes developed that ability to turn from cool, distant gold into hot, smouldering amber? Where had he learned to look at a woman in such a way that she and every other person in the room with her was instantly conscious of Guard’s desire for her? Only Guard didn’t desire her; he didn’t even like her, he—

      ‘Guard.’ Rosy exclaimed weakly, her hand going automatically to her throat to protect the small pulse beating so frantically there. ‘I…I didn’t think you’d be back until much later.’

      ‘I shouldn’t have been,’ Guard told her, ‘but I couldn’t bear to be away from you any longer.’

      Rosy gaped at him. She could feel her skin burning. What was Guard trying to do to her? He must know as well as she did that—

      She froze in shock as he crossed the hallway, dropping the briefcase he had been carrying with a small, heavy thud as he took hold of her, holding her so tightly against his body that she could feel the strong bite of his fingers against her flesh; her face was buried against his chest, any verbal response she might have wanted to make smothered, as he murmured throatily, ‘God, I’ve missed you.’

      Rosy gulped in air nervously.

      ‘Have you told Edward our good news yet, my love?’

      Their good news? What good news? Rosy jerked protestingly against Guard’s strong hold, lifting her head, the impulsive words clamouring for utterance.

      But she never got to say them. Instead, the swift descent of Guard’s head and the hard, totally unexpected warning pressure of his mouth on hers stopped her.

      Guard holding her. Guard kissing her. Kissing her? Was that what he was doing? It didn’t feel much like a kiss. She opened her eyes and looked anxiously into his. They were still that unfamiliar, heart-thumping, pulse-racing amber colour, and the mouth that had clamped so firmly on hers, silencing her, somehow didn’t feel anything like she might have imagined Guard’s mouth might feel if she had ever actually allowed herself to wander into the pitfall of such dangerous imaginings, which she hadn’t… It felt…it felt…

      A dizzying wave of sensation hit her as Guard’s mouth moved slowly over hers.

      Her eyes were still open and so were his, almost hypnotising her into obeying the silent commands he was giving her. She could feel her mouth softening beneath the sensual impact of his, her whole body relaxing, melting into his, relaxing and yet at the same time being invaded by a peculiar and unfamiliar frisson of sensation.

      To her horror, Rosy could actually feel her nipples hardening and peaking. With a small cry of protest she tore her mouth away from Guard’s.

      ‘You’re right,’ he agreed, as though she had spoken. ‘This isn’t the time or place.’

      His voice sounded soft, a husky purr that made small shivers of sensation run up and down her spine. He reached out and touched her mouth with his thumb.

      ‘What the hell’s going on?’

      Dizzily, Rosy dragged her gaze away from Guard’s face and turned to look at Edward.

      ‘Hasn’t Rosy told you?’ Guard asked politely. ‘She and I are getting married. I’ve sorted out the special licence,’ he told Rosy softly, turning away from Edward, ignoring the anger emanating from him, the questions he was asking, behaving, Rosy recognised enviously, as though Edward simply wasn’t even there, as though the two of them were completely on their own, as though…

      ‘The wedding will be just the way you wanted it to be. Very small, very quiet. In church…’

      In church! Rosy tensed, but this time she managed to hold back her shocked words.

      ‘You can’t do this,’ Edward was blustering angrily beside them. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what the pair of you are up to. Don’t think I won’t—’

      ‘Edward…’Without raising either his voice or his head, and still looking directly at her, Rosy marvelled, Guard had managed to silence Edward’s outpourings and to get his attention. ‘I think it’s time you left,’ Guard continued evenly. ‘I’ll show you out.’

      Now Guard did move away from her and at another time Rosy might almost have been amused by the chagrin in Edward’s expression and the confusion of his friend, who was demanding to know exactly what was going on and why Edward had brought him out on such a wild-goose chase.

      ‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ Edward warned Guard threateningly, before turning to leave. ‘You aren’t married yet, and besides—’

      ‘Goodbye, Edward,’ Guard interrupted him suavely, firmly closing the front door.

      ‘Did—did you mean that?’ Rosy asked him, dry-mouthed in the heavy silence that followed Edward’s departure. ‘About our getting married?’

      ‘Yes,’ Guard told her calmly. ‘What is it, Rosy?’ he asked with an abrupt return to his normal, mocking manner towards her. ‘Having second thoughts?’

      Rosy glanced towards the staircase and then up at the chandelier and shook her head numbly, not daring to trust her voice to make any vocal reply.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘DOES it have to be a church ceremony?’ Rosy asked Guard uncomfortably, uncrossing her leggings-clad legs and getting up from her chair to go and stand in front of the library window.

      She had been caught off-guard when he had arrived half an hour ago; nine o’clock on a Saturday morning was not exactly a time she was used to having visitors.

      ‘Visitors?’ Guard had drawled, as she had told him as much, hastily running the fingers of one hand through her tangled hair, while she surreptitiously tried to lick the small smear of jam from her toast off the fingers of the other.

      In her grandfather’s day, breakfast, especially at weekends, had always been a semi-formal affair, served in the breakfast-room. But, since she had been on her own, Rosy had taken to eating in the large, comfortable kitchen. Mrs Frinton, who used to come in daily to clean and cook, was now only coming in once a week. Rosy felt guilty about allowing someone to cook and clean for her when she was perfectly capable of doing both herself.

      ‘My dear Rosy, you and I are about to be married, supposed in the eyes of the rest of the world to be desperately in love. What would seem odd to them is not so much my calling so early in the day, but the fact that I haven’t stayed here all night.’

      Predictably and irritatingly, Rosy had felt herself starting to flush.

      ‘I have an extremely busy schedule, and there are certain things we need to discuss before the rest of the world learns our news.’

      ‘Why should anyone else be remotely interested in what we’re doing?’ Rosy had demanded crossly, as Guard followed her into the library. ‘Or by the rest of the world do you really mean all your girlfriends?’

      The look Guard had given her had scorched her into wary silence.

      Like her, Guard was dressed casually, but whereas her leggings and top shrouded the feminine shape of her body, Guard’s jeans, surprisingly well-worn with tell-tale patches of lighter colour on them, clung snugly to his body, outlining the hard, taut muscles of his thighs, revealing their maleness in a way which was normally mercifully concealed by his more formal business suits.

      There was, Rosy was discovering, also something almost hypnotic about the way Guard walked—about the way the denim revealed the movement of those muscles. She had been relieved when he had finally seated himself in one of the deep library chairs.

      ‘Yes, it does,’ Guard answered her original question