The Million Pound Marriage Deal. Michelle Douglas

course I do. How’s your father doing, Esther?’

      ‘Coming along nicely, thank you, Sophie.’

      ‘He had a hip replacement last month,’ she explained to Will.

      Will stared at her with narrowed eyes. ‘And are you and my grandfather in regular correspondence too?’

      She turned to the stocky man who surveyed her from the largest armchair she’d ever seen. ‘I don’t believe Lord Bramley and I have ever met.’

      ‘Grandfather, I’d like you to meet Sophie Mitchell.’

      For a moment she thought the older man wasn’t going to rise from his chair, that he meant to snub her completely, but eventually he lumbered to his feet and briefly clasped her hand. ‘Your reputation precedes you.’

      Ouch! She refused to let her chin drop. ‘As does yours.’ She meant it in exactly the same way as he did, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen.

      He briefly clasped Will’s hand. He wasn’t as tall as Will, but he was broader. Without another word he installed himself in his chair again. Flicking a glance at her left hand, he grimaced. ‘I don’t need to ask why you’ve decided to grace us with your presence.’

      Carol Ann bustled up between them. ‘You’re here to visit me, aren’t you, Will?’

      ‘That’s right,’ he agreed.

      He met Sophie’s eyes over the top of Carol Ann’s head and she sent him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. It was nice to see him with his sister, but there was no denying the tension that had him coiled up tight.

      ‘And to tell you that Sophie and I are going to get married.’

      Carol Ann’s eyes widened.

      ‘As long as that’s all right with you,’ Sophie added.

      More squealing and jumping up and down ensued, especially when she realised Sophie wouldn’t just be her best friend but also her sister, until Esther broke in and told Carol Ann that it was time for her Zumba dance class at the local community centre.

      The room grew quiet when it was only the three of them left. Dark undercurrents she didn’t understand swirled about the room.

      ‘So you’re not going to congratulate us?’ Will finally said, though his tone implied he didn’t care one way or the other if his grandfather approved of the match or not, was happy for him or not. It was all she could do not to wince.

      The older man’s gaze turned to her. ‘I noticed you asked Carol Ann’s permission, but you didn’t ask mine.’

      A myriad different retorts sprang to her lips, but she sensed hurt behind the belligerence so she swallowed them all back. She sensed similar retorts on the top of Will’s tongue too, but she rested her hand on his arm to keep him from replying.

      Will’s grandfather glanced at that hand and then back into her face and pursed his lips.

      ‘Carol Ann is a darling,’ she said. ‘But Will marrying has the potential to impact on her significantly. We didn’t want her security to feel threatened.’

      He thrust out his jaw. ‘What about my security?’

      The muscles under her fingers clenched and she tightened her grip. It took a ludicrous amount of willpower not to let her hand explore the intriguing line of that arm further—to test the solidity of the flesh that quivered beneath her touch. ‘Forgive me, sir, but you’re a man of the world and you don’t need mollycoddling. May we sit?’

      She needed to sit before her knees gave out. She didn’t wait for an answer, but dragged Will to the sofa and all but fell down into it.

      The older man grunted but for a moment she swore she detected a flash of humour in those eyes.

      She glanced at Will in her peripheral vision. Why didn’t he say something? She gave a surreptitious nudge to his ribs.

      He started. Not the reaction she’d been hoping for. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes.

      ‘I take it, Grandfather, that you’re in good health?’

      That jaw jutted out. ‘Fit as a fiddle.’

      ‘In that case, as you’re the one who demanded I marry, I’m at a loss to explain your appalling lack of enthusiasm at my announcement.’

      Well, that was a no-brainer. He obviously had an objection to Will’s choice of bride. But would Lord Bramley say as much in front of her?

      She really hoped not because if he did she’d be forced to retaliate. But as the two men’s gazes locked and clashed it occurred to her that maybe this had nothing to do with her at all.

      What on earth was this pair’s problem with each other?

      She shuffled upright. ‘We were hoping to be married here, at Ashbarrow Castle, if that’s all right with you, sir.’

      Her words broke through the silent battle and they both swung to stare at her. ‘When are you planning to marry?’ barked Will’s grandfather. ‘Spring?’

      Spring was six months away.

      One corner of Will’s mouth lifted, but his eyes remained as cold as chips of ice. ‘We’re getting married in three weeks.’

      ‘Three weeks!’ The older man glared at them, his jaw working. ‘That’s impossible. There’s too much to organise. People will talk!’

      ‘People always talk,’ Sophie broke in. ‘But when there’s no baby in nine months’ time they’ll realise they were wrong. I’m not pregnant, Lord Bramley.’

      ‘Then why the rush?’

      ‘I believe you’re the one who set the timer, sir.’

      If Will ever used that tone with her she might just shrivel on the spot!

      ‘Then why don’t you just go to some hole-and-corner register office?’ he spat.

      ‘Because that’s not what I want,’ Sophie inserted with a confidence she was far from feeling, her best hostess smile in place. She didn’t actually know what a hole-and-corner register office might be, or if it even existed, but she caught the tone well enough. Will was going to give her a million pounds. She had to save the situation before Will blew it and told the old man precisely what he could do with his estate.

      She refused to let her smile waver. ‘I always swore that when I got married it’d be done right.’ She’d just never envisaged a marriage like...this. ‘I agree that three weeks isn’t much time, but it’s doable. Which is just as well as it’s the timeframe Will has given me.’

      Both men stared at her as if she’d grown a second head.

      ‘Four generations of the Trent-Patersons have been married here at the village church. I happen to think it’s important for Will to be married from here as well. It’s a tradition that should be preserved.’

      A different light came into Lord Bramley’s eyes. He leaned back and folded his arms. Sophie held her breath.

      ‘My grandson doesn’t think so. He thinks tradition a waste of time.’

      Will’s hands clenched. ‘When tradition is used as an excuse to force someone to do something unprincipled, when it’s an excuse for bad behaviour and deceit, then it’s empty, worthless and meaningless. And I refuse to have anything to do with it.’

      Wow! Will vibrated with barely contained anger. Damage control. ‘I think we might’ve just gone off track.’

      Beside her, Will swore. She slipped her hand inside his and he gripped it hard. ‘The kind of tradition I’m talking about is a nice one. One that I’d be proud to be a part of.’

      Will met her gaze and she sent him a smile. He stared at her for two beats