Bridal Bargains: The Tycoon's Bride / The Purchased Wife / The Price Of A Bride. Michelle Reid

hasn’t got that long?’ Claire questioned thickly.

      He didn’t answer with a straight yes or no. ‘She knows what she is doing,’ he murmured. ‘Let her set her own timetable, hmm?’

      A timetable … She shivered, hating the concept so much that she sprang abruptly away from the desk. ‘I’m going to see Melanie,’ she told him as she walked quickly to the door.

      For at least Melanie was everything that was bright and optimistic about life, whereas—

      ‘Claire—one more moment of your time before you go, if you please,’ that infuriatingly level voice requested.

      It reminded her of a softly spoken headmaster she’d once had, who’d used to intimidate everyone with the simple use of the spoken word. Resenting the sensation, she spun around to glare at him. Seeing the glare, he responded with that brief grim smile she despised so much.

      ‘At the risk of infuriating you even more,’ he drawled, ‘I have to warn you that there will be a party here tomorrow night. My family wish to meet you before the wedding takes place,’ he explained, watching the varying changes in expression cross her face. Annoyance, trepidation then eventually dismay. ‘It will take the form of a—betrothal celebration.’ Smoothly he poured oil on the burning waters.

      ‘No,’ she refused, point-blank and unequivocally.

      The leather chair he was sitting in creaked slightly as he sat back into it, the morning sunlight pouring in through the window behind him putting his features into shadow so she couldn’t see whether he was smiling that smile.

      But she knew it was still there! ‘I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do to make this lie work for you!’ she informed him hotly. ‘But I will not be paraded in front of your family to be scoffed at because they think I am a—a fallen woman who trapped you with a baby!’

      Despite the sun behind him, she saw his eyes flash. ‘Let only one of my family be so crass as to scoff at you and they will never be welcome in my home again.’ At last he sounded as if he had some emotions left. ‘But if that is your wish—’ he stood up, and there was nothing calm or cold in the way that he did it ‘—then of course I will accede to it. I will go and inform my grandmother right now that she must shelve that particular plan.’

      His grandmother. He was agreeing to this party thing because his grandmother wanted it.

      She was only agreeing to any of this for Melanie’s sake.

      Grandmother—Melanie. Melanie—grandmother.

      What about Claire? she wondered bitterly.

      ‘Oh, have your stupid party,’ she snapped. ‘But don’t blame me if they all think that you’ve lost your marbles when they see me!’

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      SHE was still angry about the emotional blackmail being used on her the next evening as she finished getting ready for the party.

      So the dress was a defiance.

      Claire knew that even as she stood in front of the mirror frowning in trepidation at the reflection that was coming back at her. Made of pale blue high-stretch gossamer-fine silk tulle, the flimsy bodice was supported by bootlace-slim halter-style straps that held the two triangles of fine fabric over her breasts. From there it followed the contours of her shape with such an unremitting faithfulness that it really was the most daringly thought-provoking garment.

      She looked naked beneath it—felt naked! Though she knew that she wasn’t if you took into account the tiniest pair of smooth silk briefs and a pair of white hold-up silk stockings. But nervous anxiety was making the hard tips of her nipples protrude to add to the illusion. And because the fabric clung so lovingly to her warm flesh she could even see the way the point high on her stomach between her ribcage was pulsing in tense anticipation of the evening to come.

      ‘I can’t wear this,’ she muttered on a sudden arrival of common sense that should have hit a lot sooner.

      Standing behind her, carefully teasing the final gold-silk strands of a natty fantail knot into which she was dressing her hair, Althea paused to glance over Claire’s shoulder.

      ‘I think you are so brave,’ Althea confided—which helped not a tiny bit because she didn’t feel brave at all!

      Not any longer, anyway. This afternoon when she’d picked this dress out off the line of other evening dresses she had been feeling brave—brave, bold and brazen! she mocked herself deridingly. Seeing herself boldly taking on all those critical looks she just knew she was going to receive for not being their first choice of bride for their lord and master.

      But now, with reality hovering over her like the shadow of a giant black-winged eagle preparing to swoop, her fickle emotions had flipped over into cowardice. And she knew now with absolute certainty that she just was not going to be able to carry this off!

      A knock sounded lightly on the connecting door.

      That pulse-point between her ribcage gave a large throb, and she froze. So did Althea, her gentle brown eyes fixing on Claire’s pale face in the mirror. And silence rained down on top of both of them in a fine sprinkle of flesh-tingling static.

      How much Althea and her parents actually knew for a fact about Claire’s relationship with their employer Claire didn’t really know. She thought that they at least suspected its lack of authenticity. After all, did Andreas look like the kind of man that seduced women like her?

      But he does seduce me. She instantly contradicted that remark. Those increasingly passionate kisses are definitely seductive. And every time his dark hooded eyes settle on me now I feel dreadfully seduced even though he is trying his level best to pretend that it isn’t happening.

      ‘What do you want to do?’ Althea whispered in a hushed little voice.

      Die a thousand deaths by a thousand knives rather than open that door! she thought helplessly.

      At least you’ve managed to put on some make-up. She allowed herself that one small consolation. Discovering today that she was now able to use the fingers on her right hand for light tasks meant that she had been able to do a lot more things for herself—one of them being the application of a light shadow to her eyelids, some mascara to her lashes without smearing it all over the place, and a rose-pink lipstick that gave her soft mouth a fullness that had not been there before.

      She looked much better for that, even if she did say so herself.

      You’re not so bad-looking, you know, she informed that reflection. And despite its daring the dress is truly exquisite—the typically fashionable thing any woman slender enough to carry it off would wear today!

      The knock sounded again, and she grimly pulled herself together. You’ve created your own monster here, Claire! she told that frightened face in the mirror. Now live with her!

      With that little lecture to bolster her courage, Claire watched her chin come up, soft pink-painted mouth firming a little as the light of defiance sparked back into her eyes.

      Seeing it happen, Althea took a step back in silent retreat. And when Claire turned away from the mirror to walk over to the connecting door Althea melted out of the room without another word spoken between them.

      The way he was dressed, in a conventional black dinner suit, white dress shirt and black bow-tie, was the first thing Claire noticed as she pulled open the door. And the second thing was that he looked big and dark and dauntingly sophisticated.

      Her pulse quickened; she tried to steady it. He opened his mouth to say something light and ordinary—then stopped when his eyes actually focused on her properly.

      Claire gave up trying to control her pulse when it broke free and just went utterly haywire as his gaze rippled over her. There was really no other way to describe it since that was exactly what her skin did as he inspected her slowly from the top of her shining head to rose-pink-painted toenails peeping out from