Married For Convenience. Helen Bianchin

at intervals on the silk-covered walls, and provided an elegant backdrop for the magnificent Chinese rugs that covered the marble floor. Predominantly pale blue, employing a delicate mix of cream and the palest pink in their patterned design, the large rugs were a perfect foil for the cream-upholstered sofas and chairs, the rosewood cabinets and profusion of glass-topped occasional tables.

      No sooner had Elise selected a single chair and settled comfortably into its cushioned depths than a pleasantly plump woman of middle years entered the room, wheeling a trolley on which reposed two steaming pots, milk, sugar, cream, and various plates containing a selection of small cakes, pastries, and delicate sandwiches.

      ‘It is so good to have you home again,’ Ana greeted as she poured tea, added milk and sugar, then placed the cup and saucer within easy reach on a glass-topped table beside Elise’s chair.

      ‘Thank you.’ It seemed strange to be faced with a woman she must have dealt with on a daily basis in the six months of her marriage.

      ‘I will make dinner for seven o’clock. Is there anything special you would like?’ The smile broadened with pleasure. ‘You have often complimented Ana on her chicken soup.’

      Elise injected warmth into her voice. ‘Chicken soup will be fine.’

      ‘And afterwards? An omelette, with mushrooms, some cheese, a little tomato, ham?’

      ‘That sounds delicious,’ she qualified, watching idly as Ana poured coffee into a demitasse and handed it to Alejandro before leaving the room.

      The tea tasted like liquid ambrosia, and Elise took a small sandwich, savouring the delicate smoked salmon and cream-cheese filling, accepted another, then declined anything further.

      ‘More tea?’

      ‘Please,’ she acceded gratefully, watching his lengthy frame unfold from the chair. His movements were measured and concise, his hands sure and steady as he refilled her cup and replaced it within easy reach.

      ‘Have you lived here for very long?’ The need to converse seemed paramount, and her fingers shook slightly as she lifted a hand and smoothed back an imaginary lock of hair behind one ear.

      His eyes flared slightly at the nervous gesture, and she made a conscious effort to dampen the edge of panic threatening to assume unmanageable proportions.

      ‘A few years. I had the original house removed, then began from scratch.’

      She felt as if she were on a conversational rollercoaster that she couldn’t stop. ‘During the past week I’ve looked at photograph albums which mean very little, and you’ve provided essential information. Tell me more about how we met, and why.’

      His smile assumed musing indulgence. ‘The need to fill in some of the gaps?’

      ‘There are so many.’

      ‘And you are becoming impatient.’

      ‘Frustrated,’ Elise corrected. ‘I seem to have a hundred questions.’

      ‘All of which you want me to answer at once?’

      Her eyes took on a haunted quality. ‘I need to know.’

      ‘You walked into my office demanding a minimum five minutes of my time.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Your father had borrowed extensively from my merchant bank, and you refused to accept my decision not to extend the loan or the term.’

      She digested the information slowly. ‘You own a merchant bank?’

      ‘I have many investments,’ he revealed solemnly.

      ‘Was I successful in overturning your decision?’

      He seemed to take his time in answering. ‘You could say we eventually reached an understanding.’

      ‘You asked me out.’ This much she knew, because he had told her.

      ‘You opposed me as no other woman had, questioning my business acumen and condemning me for my lack of compassion.’ Warmth gleamed in the depths of his dark eyes. ‘Your fierce loyalty impressed me, and I was sufficiently intrigued to insist we share dinner. Within twenty-four hours I had persuaded you to marry me.’

      ‘And arranged for the wedding to take place a month later.’ Dear God. Such omnipotence was devastating. She found it vaguely shocking that she had given her consent. ‘Am I supposed to believe you’re an honourable man, or go with reality?’

      One eyebrow slanted in mocking cynicism. ‘Which reality would you prefer, querida?’

      ‘You have the advantage,’ she managed, with a degree of sadness. ‘While I possess none.’

      ‘Finish your tea,’ he commanded quietly. ‘Then I will take you upstairs to rest.’

      She wanted to say that she wasn’t in the least tired, but the thought of being free from his disturbing presence for an hour or two was attractive, and she replaced her cup on its saucer.

      ‘I have a house overlooking the ocean at Palm Beach. It’s an ideal location for you to relax and recuperate.’

      ‘You mean for both of us to stay there?’ Not alone, surely? she agonised, aware that he had caught the fleeting emotions apparent on her expressive features.

      He lifted a hand and brushed warm fingers across her cheek. ‘Of course. Your welfare is very important to me.’

      For some inexplicable reason she felt the faint stirring of apprehension feather insidiously down her spine.

      Why? she queried silently as they moved towards the magnificent staircase. Yet with every step she took, her sense of anxiety increased.

      The entire floor was covered in thick-piled powder-blue carpet, providing a cool tranquillity that was pleasing.

      Elise caught glimpses of rooms employing muted shades of pale green and peach, delicate pinks and greens, the softest shades of blue and cream, all so beautifully co-ordinated that she began to suspect he had enlisted the services of an interior decorator.

      The master suite held a king-sized bed and two finely crafted rosewood chests of drawers, with matching cabinets and bedside pedestals. The drapes and bedcover were of a bold design in cream, pale lilac and blue.

      She watched as he crossed to the bed to turn back the cover, then with deft movements he retrieved several pillows from a cabinet and assembled them into a comfortable nest against the bedhead.

      ‘There’s an intercom device on the pedestal,’ Alejandro informed her as she slid off her shoes, then sank back against the pillows.

      The breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head and brushed his lips against her own in a provocative caress before straightening and moving back a pace.

      ‘I’ll be in the study for an hour or two. If you need anything, just activate the intercom. Rest well, querida,’ he bade gently, then he turned and left the room.

      There was a collection of magazines conveniently placed within easy reach, and Elise idly browsed through two before discarding them, her eyes heavy with a weariness she could no longer fight.

      Her sleep was dreamless, and when she woke it was to see Alejandro standing a short distance from the bed, his eyes dark and faintly brooding as they examined her pale features.

      ‘I’ll have Ana bring you a tray.’ He reached out a hand and tucked a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear. ‘Come,’ he commanded, sweeping the sheet aside. ‘I’ll help you undress.’

      No, a silent voice screamed from deep within. ‘I should be able to manage,’ she voiced in strangled tones.

      ‘I doubt it,’ Alejandro returned, his eyes darkening measurably at her evident reluctance. ‘Think of me as a nurse,’ he drawled, taking in her cleareyed resolve with a narrowed gaze as she got to her