His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride. Catherine Spencer

was an aching hollow inside her too, which scared her by its frank intensity.

      ‘Now that I know what to expect,’ she added, ‘I’ll make damned sure I don’t transgress again.’

      ‘That—might be wise.’ His voice followed her, raw and husky, as she walked away from him, neither hurrying nor looking back. ‘Because I have no intention of letting you go, darling, and don’t you forget it.’

      Darcy stood at her bedroom window, looking down at the bare garden. The sun had been shining a few hours ago when she’d come out of church, a married woman. Mrs Joel Castille.

      But since then the clouds had gathered, and the view was sombre, threatening rain.

      An omen, perhaps? she thought, her mouth twisting. Under the circumstances, that was entirely possible.

      Lois had offered to help her change out of her bridal white, but she’d told her quietly that she’d prefer to be alone. She had not missed the anxious glance her friend had given her as she turned away.

      But then she’d been well aware of Lois’s concern, ever since the night of the restaurant get-together the previous week, and its aftermath.

      Darcy had frankly dreaded meeting the Latimers, who were clearly among Joel’s closest friends. And her nervousness was exacerbated by the fact that, since the party, contact between Joel and herself had been spasmodic, brief and formal.

      And when they had met, there’d been no reference to any of the events of that evening, least of all that degrading kiss he’d forced on her.

      He’d probably forgotten all about it, she thought, smouldering with resentment. But she could not. It was a constant shadow on the edge of her mind, waking and sleeping. And she found this disturbing.

      As he’d driven her to the restaurant she’d sat beside him, her hands clasped tensely in her lap, wishing with all her heart that she’d ignored Lois’s prompting and never suggested this.

      Joel noticed, of course. ‘Is something wrong?’

      ‘I’m just wondering what your friends will be thinking about this patched-together marriage.’ Darcy bit her lip. ‘They must realise it’s not the genuine article.’

      ‘Not all hasty weddings are business arrangements,’ Joel returned coolly. ‘They might think that we met and fell so madly in love that we can’t bear to wait.’

      ‘That’s hardly likely.’

      ‘Certainly not while you’re giving the impression that you expect to be hanged in the morning.’

      ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ She sent him a muted glare. ‘You, of course, are wasted in engineering. You should have been on the stage.’

      ‘I won’t take that as a compliment,’ he said drily. ‘Because I’m sure that’s not your intention. But years of overcoming tricky terrain, plus dealing with corrupt regimes and reluctant workforces, has taught me to make the best of things, or at least pretend they’re better than they are.’ He paused. ‘If all else fails tonight, try and enjoy the food.’

      In other circumstances, Darcy thought, she might easily have warmed to Greg and Maisie Latimer. He was tall, fair and laid-back, while she was small, dark and cheerfully direct.

      ‘Well, you’re not what I was expecting,’ she told Darcy when they found themselves alone in the powder room at one point.

      Darcy carefully replaced the cap on her lipstick. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad?’

      ‘Good, I think.’ The other girl considered her for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes, good absolutely.’ She paused. ‘You know, of course, that Joel and Emma Norton had this thing about each other?’

      ‘It’s been—mentioned.’

      Maisie lowered her voice confidentially. ‘The family didn’t want them to marry, of course, because of the first-cousin thing. So she went off and hitched up with this other guy—Harry somebody.’

      ‘Metcalfe,’ Darcy supplied woodenly.

      ‘That’s the one. Joel had to go to their wedding, of course, and it hit him really hard. He was like a stranger for some time afterwards, and that’s when he began freelancing—staying away so much.’

      Her smile suddenly beamed. ‘And as he’s far too good to lose, thank you for bringing him back to the real world. Giving him something to live for again.’

      Oh, God, thought Darcy, if you only knew. Because you and Greg are his friends, and you really love Joel, and I’m such a fraud.

      She forced a smile of her own. ‘I think Joel is well able to resolve his own problems without help from anyone.’

      Maisie gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Oh, I think Joel could be as vulnerable as the next man when it comes to affairs of the heart.’

      Darcy hesitated as Maisie fastened her bag and turned to the door, then said in a little impulsive rush, ‘Is she pretty, Joel’s cousin?’

      ‘Well, yes,’ Maisie said slowly. ‘In a fragile sort of way.’ Then she grinned. ‘Bit too needy for my taste, but I’m not a man. And the exact opposite of you, I’d say, so don’t run away with the idea you’re some kind of carbon-copy consolation prize. I’m sure Joel knew exactly what he was doing when he saw you.’

      Yes, Darcy told herself unhappily as she followed the other girl back into the restaurant, I’m sure he did.

      Joel had clearly set out to win over Lois and Mick, and, judging by the laughter from their end of the table, he was succeeding admirably. Except at one point she saw that Lois had sat back in her chair, and was frowning a little as if bewildered about something.

      And at the end of the evening, when they were all departing in their separate cars, she drew Darcy to one side, keeping her voice low. ‘Honey, do you really and truly know what you’re doing?’

      ‘Why do you ask?’

      Lois shook her head. ‘On a scale of dangerously attractive men, Joel scores lethal. And he’s quite definitely someone who knows what he wants, and how to get it too.’ She gave her friend a searching glance. ‘You could seriously have bitten off more than you can chew.’

      ‘Trust me,’ Darcy had returned equally quietly, but more stoutly than the situation deserved. ‘It will all be fine.’

      Well, she had thought, she’d said it. Now all she had to do was make herself believe it.

      And had turned, smiling, to say goodnight to Maisie and Greg.

      Now here she was, with Joel’s plain gold wedding ring on her left hand, and all the clothes for her new life packed beautifully into the elegant luggage, already taken downstairs for the journey up to the Chelsea house where she would live while her temporary marriage lasted.

      Her father’s remaining clothes and possessions had already been packed up and brought down to the country, while a team of painters and decorators had been installed in London to refurbish the main reception rooms. Also, she understood, the master bedroom. Which, naturally, was none of her business.

      She’d examined the paint cards, along with the snippets of fabric and wallpaper she’d been sent, without the slightest interest. After all, she thought, she was only going to be the lodger. And her own room was not to be touched. She’d been quite specific about that, and received Joel’s casual agreement.

      Which, she supposed, was reassuring. Why, then, did she still have this vague feeling of unease?

      I don’t like it, she thought, her mouth twisting ruefully. It’s all going too well.

      There was a rap on the door, and, to her surprise, Joel walked in. He halted a few feet away from her, the dark brows lifting questioningly as he registered her, standing motionless by the window.

      He’d changed out of his wedding gear too, she realised,