The Million Pound Marriage Deal. Michelle Douglas

the screen of palms rather than at him, pain throbbing in the back of her throat. She’d been toying with her bread knife, but she carefully set it back down, afraid that if she didn’t she’d stab herself in the leg. Which was no more than she deserved, but that might get her committed. Besides it wouldn’t help anyone. She couldn’t abscond from responsibility. Not this time.

      ‘That good, huh?’

      Carla was in drug rehab—drug rehab Sophie had to try and find the money for—but Carla had sworn her to secrecy and Sophie owed her that much. At the very least. Self-loathing bloomed in her chest. How could she have let things get so out of hand? How could she have been so blind? How could she have let Carla—and Peter—down so spectacularly?

      She pressed her hands together to stop them from shaking. ‘She can’t let the memory of Peter go.’

      ‘And we can?’

      The words burst from him, unexpected, and Sophie flinched, throwing up an arm as if to ward off the words.

      Silence pounded between them.

      Eventually Will cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry.’

      She could feel the weight of his gaze, but she didn’t want to meet it. She adjusted her cutlery instead. ‘It’s a valid point,’ she squeezed out from a tight throat. ‘But it’s only been two years.’ It was too soon for forgetting...for letting go.

      From the corner of her eyes she saw him drag a hand back through dark auburn hair. ‘I’m starting to think that us continuing to meet like this isn’t doing anybody any good, and that—’

      ‘No!’

      Her gaze flew to his, snagged and held.

      ‘Please,’ she whispered. To her absolute horror tears slid down her cheeks and she wanted to close her eyes and will the floor to swallow her whole. She hadn’t let him see her cry, not since the funeral. In the humiliation of the moment she wanted to get up and walk out of this horrible restaurant, but she had to stop what he was trying to do.

      ‘Please, Will, I’m not ready to give this up.’ The thought of it filled her with panic. ‘Please don’t bring an end to...this. I can’t—’ She swallowed down a sob. ‘I know it’s uncomfortable. And I know I’m a trial.’

      She’d been a trial to every person in her life. Except Peter. She’d try harder not to be a trial to Will in the future. ‘But, you see, you loved him. And I loved him. And remembering that, having proof—’ recognition ‘—helps.’

      His skin had gone grey and his jaw clenched so hard it made her feel sick.

      She mopped at her cheeks. ‘Will you excuse me while I go find the ladies’?’

      He nodded.

      ‘Will you be here when I get back?’

      She held her breath until he gave another hard nod. Without another word she fled to the ladies’ room, only giving herself enough time to splash some cold water onto overheated cheeks and to repair her eyeliner. Thank God for waterproof mascara!

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, sliding into her seat again. Their meal had arrived while she’d been away, and she spread her linen serviette across her lap and lifted her knife and fork. ‘Today is always a tough day. I’m sorry that you bore the brunt of my dissatisfaction with it.’

      ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t more sensitive.’

      He wanted to throttle her. She wasn’t sure how she could tell—the hard set of his shoulders maybe combined with the deep burning in his eyes.

      ‘How’s Carol Ann?’ she asked.

      ‘Fully recovered from her surgery. She loved the set of DVDs you sent her. Though from all accounts the rest of the household are being driven insane.’

      That made her grin. Carol Ann was Will’s younger sister and the same age as Sophie, but she had Down’s syndrome with all of the associated health issues that entailed. Sophie had only met her a few times, but she sent her birthday and Christmas cards...and gifts on the few occasions she’d been hospitalised. They spoke on the phone. Her last gift had been a DVD box set of musicals. ‘I’m glad they’ve been such a hit. The world needs more The King and I.’

      He almost smiled so she counted that as an almost win.

      ‘How’s your grandfather?’

      All signs of humour drained from him and she winced. ‘The grapevine informs me that he’s been making another push to get you to settle down.’

      ‘Good news travels fast. I supposed you were at Catriona McManus’s thirtieth last weekend.’

      Nope. She’d given up wild times and painting the town red. She was avoiding parties, other than the ones her father was forcing her to plan, organise and host on his behalf. It was all a part of her turning over a new leaf. But that didn’t mean she could avoid the rumour mill completely. ‘So it’s true, then?’

      ‘This time he’s given me an ultimatum.’

      A forkful of lamb halted halfway to her mouth. ‘What kind of ultimatum?’

      ‘Either I marry within the next twelve months and take over the reins of the estate or he’s going to give everything to Harold.’

      Harold was Will’s weasel of a cousin. Her mind raced. Will didn’t need the money—he was a squillionaire in his own right. He’d never shown the least interest in inheriting the estate, but... She lowered her cutlery. ‘What about Carol Ann?’

      ‘If Harold inherits there’ll be no place for Carol Ann at Ashbarrow Castle.’

      But...that was Carol Ann’s home! Sophie might not know much about Will’s life beyond what Peter had told her, and the odd snippet Will occasionally let slip, but she knew he took his responsibility for Carol Ann seriously. She knew how much he loved her. And she knew Carol Ann’s entire sense of security was tied to Ashbarrow Castle. She knew because Will had tried moving her to London to live with him and it had been an absolute disaster. Carol Ann had grieved so hard for her home that she’d fallen ill.

      Talk about being in a bind. ‘What are you going to do?’

      He shook his head, remaining silent.

      His earlier out-of-character snark made sudden sense. ‘Maybe he’s bluffing.’

      ‘Not this time.’

      Her stomach clenched. Will’s parents’ marriage had been fraught, ugly...and in the end they’d destroyed each other. All in the glare of the public spotlight. She’d figured that was why he’d sworn never to marry. Ever. She’d never met anyone so against the institution. She rubbed a hand across her chest. No wonder he looked so haunted.

      Keep things light, she counselled, because he looked ready to snap and she was one of the burdens weighing him down. She lifted a bite of food to her lips, chewed and swallowed. And then she sent him a grin that made him blink. ‘I’d marry you for a million pounds, Will.’

      He stared at her for a long moment. ‘And what would you do with a million pounds?’

      She could see in his eyes what he thought she’d do—fritter it away on clothes and parties. She gave up being polite and leaned her elbows on the table. ‘Create a new life for myself. A million pounds would let me turn everything around.’ It would pay for Carla’s treatment. It would let her get the stables up and running so that when Carla was better she’d have a job to come out to.

      He leaned towards her, his eyes oddly intent. ‘Specifics, please.’

      * * *

      It was the first time in two years that Will had seen anything approaching Sophie’s old spark fire through her.

      Every time he saw her she’d lost more weight, had grown paler, had become...less.

      He’d