Wife By Contract, Mistress By Demand. Carole Mortimer

His hands were clenched at his sides.

      Never, in all his wildest imaginings, had he believed his father could do something so—so incredibly destructive!

      Gabriella gave a hard, humourless laugh. ‘You don’t seriously think I would ever choose to marry you, Rufus!’

      Rufus continued to breathe deeply for several long seconds, striving for some sort of control, aware of where they were, of their audience, Toby avidly enjoying the altercation, David Brewster obviously disturbed by it.

      And, no, he didn’t suppose Gabriella would choose to marry him. Not any more. Not after the way he had deliberately humiliated her in Majorca five years ago.

      Deliberately.

      Because he never had been as immune to this exotically beautiful woman as he gave the outward impression he was. And her response to him had been mind-blowing, more so than anything he had known before, or since.

      But he was always very aware that Gabriella was Heather Benito’s daughter, the child of the woman who had taken money from his father before the two of them were even married, and not a small amount, either.

      But his father had been so besotted with his second wife, so blind to anything but the fact that he loved Heather, that he had been totally devastated when she had died, to the point that he had almost seemed to cease to function.

      Except, it seemed, to write this incredible clause in his will tying Rufus to Gabriella for six months. As her husband, for God’s sake!

      He turned to look at her scathingly. ‘Oh, come on, Gabriella,’ he taunted. ‘We both know to what lengths you’re willing to go if you consider the prize big enough!’

      Her violet-coloured eyes seemed to burst into flames at his implication. ‘You absolute bast—’

      ‘Poor Gabriella,’ he scorned. ‘Couldn’t you have come up with something more original than that in the last five years?’

      Her nostrils flared. ‘Why bother, when the description fits you so perfectly?’

      ‘Oh, dear.’ David Brewster’s mild, slightly flustered voice broke into the stormy scene before Rufus could come back with his own cutting reply. ‘It would seem that Mr Gresham may have made an error in judgement concerning his wishes for the two of you.’

      ‘Not at all,’ Rufus assured the older man grimly. ‘My father was fully aware of the—enmity, that exists between Gabriella and myself.’

      And James, Rufus knew, had always been deeply saddened at the obviously strained relationship between the two of them.

      His father had also advised Rufus numerous times that he ought to remarry, if only to give his now seven-year-old over-indulged daughter a stepmother. A suggestion that Rufus had told him he had no intention of complying with after his experience with Angela.

      But James, it seemed, had decided to try and rectify both these situations, after his death, by making this ridiculous condition about Rufus and Gabriella marrying each other in order for them to gain their inheritance.

      With the forfeit that Toby would inherit everything instead if they didn’t!

      Something that James had known that Rufus wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow to happen. James had held no illusions about the irresponsible Toby, either, and had known that he would ruin Gresham’s in a year and have squandered the money away not long after!

      The money wasn’t important, because Rufus had enough money of his own without needing any of his father’s, and the properties in Surrey, Aspen, Majorca and the Bahamas weren’t important to him, either. But the two Gresham’s stores were different. He had put everything he had into those two stores the last six years, made them more successful than ever, and he refused to let a total wastrel like his cousin Toby just walk in and ruin them.

      To the point where he would be willing to marry and live with Gabriella, even for six months, in order to keep them? To live in close proximity with her, day after day, for her to become his wife—something he’d sworn he would never have again! Was he willing to do that…?

      ‘I really had no idea.’ The lawyer looked at them frowningly. ‘I must admit I thought it rather strange. Nothing I said would deter Mr Gresham from making these particular arrangements in his will, I’m afraid.’ He shook his head sadly.

      But why wouldn’t it? Gabriella questioned, incredulous. What on earth had James hoped to achieve by making such an unacceptable clause in his will?

      Because it was unacceptable to both Rufus and Gabriella. As poor David Brewster had just been made a witness to!

      Although Rufus now looked self-disgusted that the outburst had been made at all. He was a man who preferred to keep his emotions under control, Gabriella knew. Only she, it seemed, and the prospect of having to marry her, had the power to make him forget that normally cool reserve!

      ‘There has to be some way out of this.’ She looked at the lawyer beseechingly.

      ‘I’m afraid not, Miss Benito.’ He grimaced. ‘I drew Mr Gresham’s will up myself, and I can assure you there is no get-out clause, no room for manoeuvre—’

      ‘No two hundred pounds when you pass go,’ Toby put in dryly, obviously enjoying this situation immensely.

      But then, he would. To by enjoyed nothing more than dissension and disharmony—even more so if he was the cause of it!

      As he had been three months ago…

      Which was the reason that forfeit to Toby didn’t make any sense to Gabriella. James had been furious with his nephew before he’d died, and wouldn’t even have him in the house after what he had tried to do to Gabriella. He certainly wouldn’t want Toby to inherit the Gresham’s stores, the money, or property.

      So why had James put such an ironclad clause in his will…?

      Because he had known neither Rufus or Gabriella would want Toby to inherit the Gresham’s stores, the money or property!

      But he also knew that Rufus and Gabriella didn’t like each other.

      He knew it, but hadn’t been happy about it, as he would rather they had all been one big happy family. It was what he had always wanted.

      Enough to force Rufus and Gabriella into marrying each other?

      A move guaranteed to increase their dislike of each other rather than nullify it!

      ‘What’s the matter, Gabriella?’ Rufus taunted softly. ‘Is marriage to me no longer part of your plans?’

      It had never been the plan he was implying it was. She had fallen in love with him six years ago, had loved him five years ago, had thought their being together that day in Majorca had meant that he was in love with her, too. A futile hope, as he had so cruelly pointed out!

      Her chin rose to meet his challenge. ‘No more than marriage to me has ever been in yours!’

      ‘Not at all, then,’ he drawled dismissively.

      ‘Exactly,’ she was stung into snapping.

      ‘Isn’t this fun?’ Toby said to no one in particular. ‘Of course, the two of you could just save yourself the trouble of even trying to live together—an exercise obviously doomed to failure before you begin!—and just hand all that lovely loot over to me right now!’

      ‘Miss Benito and Mr Gresham have a week in which to come to their decision,’ David Brewster put in firmly before either Rufus or Gabriella could make a reply.

      ‘Oh, I think I can wait a week.’ Toby nodded, totally unperturbed by the animosity surrounding him as he grinned happily.

      ‘There is one other stipulation in Mr Gresham’s will that I think you should both be made aware of before coming to that decision.’ The lawyer had obviously decided to ignore Toby’s comments.

      ‘Let’s