Required to Wear the Tycoon's Ring (8 page)

It came as no surprise when Imogen confessed that she'd gone to bed. She hadn't expected him to be ringing so late.

Glancing at his watch, he realised she was right. It was
very
late. ‘Sorry about that.' He grimaced. ‘I feel as if I've been on rails today. I haven't stopped.'

‘That can't be good for you...'

He heard her stifle a yawn.

‘A body needs rest as well as activity. Did you get something proper to eat?'

Seth didn't answer straight away, because the sleepy cadence of her voice was seriously making him tingle. It didn't help that he couldn't help wondering what kind of nightwear she wore to bed—if she wore any at all. There wasn't one other woman in his sphere who dispensed care and concern as she did. It was a revelation that such a quality could be so alluring
.

Gravel voiced, he replied, ‘Yes, I did. I sent out for a sandwich during my meeting.'

‘You only had a
sandwich
?'

‘That's all I needed.'

‘Surely just a sandwich won't give you the energy you need when you're working?'

‘It was good enough.'

‘You should have gone out and had a proper lunch...that's all I'm saying.'

‘Don't be so concerned. Do I look as if I'm in need of feeding?'

‘I don't deny that you certainly
look
pretty fit and strong...'

Grinning with satisfaction, and not a little male pride, Seth commented, ‘So you've observed that about me, have you?'

At the other end of the phone it went ominously quiet.

‘Imogen...are you still there?'

She sighed, and it was as though the warmth of her breath drifted through the telephone and touched his cheek.

‘Yes. I'm still here. Was there a particular reason for your call?'

‘I wanted to tell you about the arrangements for our trip.'

‘You've decided where we're going, then?'

‘Yes, I have.'

‘So where's it going to be?'

‘I'm not going to tell you the destination because I want it to be a surprise. All you need to know is that we'll be leaving early on Saturday. I'll come to the house around eight to collect you. Bring an assortment of clothing in case we have to contend with bad weather at some point.'

‘Okay...'

‘You still trust me not to do wrong by you, don't you?'

Seth found it hard to keep the doubt from his voice. There was always the potential that Imogen might change her mind about their deal. He hadn't forgotten that she'd warned him about that. He wished he'd gone to the house to see her face-to-face rather than rely on the phone.

‘I do. I'll make sure I'm ready on time.'

‘Good.' Low voiced, he confessed, ‘I've missed not seeing you these past couple of days, you know...'

‘You mean you're not regretting asking me to marry you?'

‘Absolutely not!'

‘Well, then...'

Hearing the distinct smile in her voice, he was satisfied that she wasn't going to back out after all.

‘I'll see you on Saturday.'

‘Goodnight, Imogen. I'd better let you get some sleep.'

‘Goodnight, Seth. Make sure you get some rest, too. Even Superman must have had to have some down-time now and again, to recharge his batteries.'

Chuckling, he rang off, knowing that it would be
her
face that he took with him into sleep that night and no one else's.

He was surprised at how reassured he felt about that...

* * *

Saturday arrived, and Imogen had been on tenterhooks from the early hours, knowing that today she was going away with Seth. She'd been up and dressed at the crack of dawn, and now busied herself making some last-minute checks on her packing as she nervously waited for his arrival.

She attested to feeling as Fanny Robin must have done in
Far From the Madding Crowd
, when her sweetheart Troy hadn't appeared because she'd been waiting for him at the wrong church... She knew what it was like to be stood up on what was supposed to be the happiest day of a woman's life, and—dear God—she didn't want to experience such a devastating scenario again.

Seth
would
show up so they could go away together,
wouldn't
he?

She was checking her appearance in the sitting room mirror, trying to maintain her optimism and miserably failing, when a loud thump on the front door—the bell still hadn't been repaired—signalled that her visitor had arrived. Even as she stared into the mirror she saw the cherry-bright colour that seeped into her cheeks.

Turning away, she whispered, ‘Thank God he kept his word...' and hurried out into the hallway to let him in.

He looked wonderful. Scratch that. It wasn't just the fact that he
looked
amazing that overwhelmed her, but the sheer charisma he exuded that stole her breath. Wearing another immaculate tailored grey suit, he wasn't a man anyone could ignore. With his sculpted features and chiselled jaw he was as handsome as ever, and even at such an early hour his dazzling blue eyes shone with an almost preternatural brightness that rendered Imogen as weak as a kitten as she stared back at him.

His gaze was unwaveringly direct... ‘Hi.'

‘Hi,' she greeted him back. ‘You made it on time, then?'

‘Did you doubt that I would?'

‘Why don't you come in? It looks cold out there.'

Not answering his question, she let him inside the hallway and when she'd shut the door stole one or two precious moments to try to steady her nerves.

This was no small undertaking she was embarking on, and Seth needed to know that. More important, she didn't want him to believe that her agreement to marry him meant that he would have everything his own way. Whatever happened, she was determined to make her own needs important, too...

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
O
I
MOGEN
'
S
SURPRISE
, Seth drove them to a heliport just a few miles away. Whilst she'd guessed they would be flying somewhere, she'd assumed they'd be going to an airport to board a plane. But confronted with the reality of this alternative form of transport, she felt her insides catapulting with excitement. She'd never experienced travelling in a helicopter before and viewed it as an unexpected bonus.

But as soon as the silver-haired pilot had lifted off she clutched her hands in her lap and fell silent. She wasn't nervous about the flying. Even the noise of the whirring blades and the sudden jolting ascent didn't bother her. It was just that the scenario she found herself in was so far away from her usual day-to-day experience that she had to pinch herself to believe that it was really happening.

The most surprising thing of all was that she was accompanying a wealthy and supremely confident businessman who'd barely been in her life five minutes, and that somehow she'd agreed to become his wife in a marriage of convenience...

‘It's a good feeling to be on our way,' Seth commented, turning in his seat to glance at her. ‘With no obstacles to delay us. It's been my experience in my career that something usually comes up at the last minute.'

Imogen screwed up her face. ‘Don't say that. It might be unlucky.'

‘Are you telling me that you're superstitious?'

‘I've been known to avoid the number thirteen and walking under ladders—that kind of thing.'

Amused, he shook his head. ‘Well, nothing's going to spoil our trip. Trust me.'

Inexplicably, and going against all her usual instincts, she
did
. ‘Are you going to tell me where we're going now?'

He smiled. ‘I suppose I ought to. You've done well not to press me for answers so far. Women's curiosity usually gets the better of them, I've found. We're going to Scotland. I hope you took my advice and packed some clothes for inclement weather?'

‘I did. I even packed a pair of sturdy boots in case we went walking. You can probably tell I was in the Girl Guides. My motto is Be Prepared.'

A painful reminder that she hadn't been remotely prepared for being jilted at the altar made her insides tighten disagreeably.
Quickly corralling the emotion, she quelled it, knowing that it would only spoil things.

‘But I never guessed we might be going to Scotland. What made you choose that for our destination?'

‘Wait until we get there and I'll explain. In the meantime why don't you just kick back and enjoy the ride? You're going to see some amazing scenery en route.'

‘Okay, I will.'

The views over England were stunning enough, but as they left them behind and travelled further north her gaze encountered a proliferation of mountains, woodlands and reed beds in abundance. It was magical to see the narrow rivers that wove in and out through the differing habitats, the glint of diamond-bright sunlight on the shimmering water clearly marking them out.

The further afield they travelled, the more the colours of the land changed, too. She'd never realised before how many different shades of green there were. And every now and then the verdant shades were interspersed by acres of stunning purple heather.

In what seemed like hardly any time at all the pilot told them to prepare for landing. Keeping her sights fixed on the scenery as the helicopter descended, Imogen saw a flat, rugged landscape, with the most stunning backdrop of mountains rising up behind it, and a rush of pleasure soared through her.

The sensation was deliciously heightened when Seth curled his hand round hers
.
‘Put your coat on,' he advised. ‘It's bound to be cold.'

The pilot turned to address them. ‘Here we are, Mr Broden. If you'd like to disembark, I'll bring out your luggage.'

‘Thank you, Patrick.'

As soon as they were outside the helicopter a raw and icy wind made Imogen's breath catch. Seth had been right about the drop in temperature. It was absolutely freezing
.
Arranging the hood of her parka with its faux fur edging more closely round her face, she felt her teeth chatter helplessly.

In contrast,
he
didn't look remotely put out by the icy temperature. He had merely thrown a Burberry mackintosh over his immaculate suit, and he had the look of a suave male model about to be photographed to promote a very exclusive brand of cologne.

‘I hope that you and your young lady have a wonderful time here.' Patrick warmly shook Seth's hand and then Imogen's
.

Had she imagined it, or had there been a distinct twinkle in the man's eyes when he'd glanced back at her?
Did he perhaps know something that she didn't?

There was no time to ponder, because suddenly a uniformed young couple were upon them—the man expertly arranging their luggage on a wheeled trolley as his pretty companion warmly welcomed them, announcing that her name was Nina. Then she asked them to follow her to the hotel.

Suddenly Imogen found that she had a myriad of questions to ask Seth. She still couldn't fathom why he'd chosen Scotland for their first trip together.
But he was looking straight ahead, as if he had more than enough on his mind to occupy him and wasn't up for answering questions.

Then, as if intuiting that she was a little unsettled, he lightly touched his hand to her back as they walked towards the gracious nineteenth-century building that was their hotel.

‘If you'd like to come with me into Reception, the staff will check you in, and then I'll show you and Miss Hayes to your suite, Mr Broden. In the meantime a porter will take your luggage up to the rooms.'

‘Thank you.'

‘You're most welcome,' Nina replied.

The young female concierge blushed as she met Seth's arresting blue eyes, and Imogen completely understood why the woman suddenly appeared flustered.

As they travelled in the elevator up to their suite she deliberately avoided Seth's examining gaze. She was suddenly struck dumb by what she was about to do
.

Even though the kisses they'd shared were the most arousing she'd ever experienced, and had reassured her that she would have no trouble being turned on by him in bed, she was understandably apprehensive because she'd never spent the night with a man before. To some degree it helped that her handsome companion was aware of that, but still it didn't dispel the nervousness she felt about taking things much further.

When the charming concierge had been duly thanked and tipped, she smilingly departed. Turning together, Imogen and Seth surveyed their luxurious surroundings.

‘So this is how the other half live?' she quipped.

A smile touched her companion's lips but he didn't comment.

The suite door opened on to a gracious sitting room decorated in tastefully muted tones of cream and mint green. It was furnished with two generous-size spruce-coloured velvet sofas and a pair of cream armchairs arranged round an art deco coffee table.

Murmuring that it was all lovely, Imogen saw that Seth was already moving into the main bedroom to examine it. She followed him more slowly. When she arrived, for a disconcerting moment she couldn't take her eyes off the large four-poster bed that dominated the room, draped with sumptuous cranberry and lilac silks and an array of vintage-style cushions. It came to her that it wouldn't look out of place in a sheikh's harem.

‘You can sleep in here tonight. I'll take the spare bed next door,' her companion announced casually.

Glancing up at him, Imogen frowned. ‘It doesn't seem right that I should have it all to myself.'

‘It's only for tonight. You won't be on your own tomorrow.'

‘No?'

Holding her gaze, Seth went still. ‘We're getting married... Tomorrow night we'll be husband and wife.'

At the realisation that she would be losing her virginity sooner than she'd thought, Imogen couldn't seem to find the wherewithal to reply.
Once again a powerful sense of unreality washed over her.

‘You mean that we're going to be married
here
?' she asked, the words catching in her throat.

Lifting a gently mocking eyebrow, Seth nodded. ‘This
is
Gretna Green. It's what the place is famous for.'

‘I didn't realise... I think—I think I need to sit down.' Dazed, she moved across the room to an armchair.

Her companion followed her. ‘It's all been arranged, Imogen. This is the surprise I promised you. I've even arranged the dress that you'll be wearing. You said you like vintage, so that's the style I've chosen for you. The designer will be joining us later, so that you can try it on and she can make any last-minute adjustments.'

‘What about the witnesses we'll need for the ceremony? Have you organised them, too?'

‘Yes. The hotel's manager and our female concierge Nina have agreed to help us out. Do you mind that you won't have any personal friends or family present? Only I had to organise things quickly...'

Breathing out a sigh, Imogen undid her parka and took it off. Then she dropped down into the wing-backed armchair behind her. Exceptionally comfortable, it made the one she had at home seem particularly old and worn. ‘I don't mind. It's probably best that they won't be here.'

‘Why's that?'

‘I suppose I don't want to face their judgement or disapproval—particularly my mum's. Like I said, she's had so much disappointment in her life. And I seem to have acquired a reputation for not exactly making the best decisions. She wouldn't fail to remind me of that.'

‘Then, I'm glad your people won't be joining us.'

Frowning, Seth followed her example and undid his jacket. He deposited the expensive-looking garment onto the lavishly covered bed.

‘What about you? Don't
you
have any friends or family who might be interested in the fact that you're getting married?'

His jaw visibly clenched. ‘No. I don't.'

Imogen couldn't help but challenge his answer. ‘Would they be interested if this marriage was for real?'

Flinching as though struck, he rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘By that I take it you mean if we were in love?'

There was no mockery in his tone, but she couldn't fail to hear the note of derision at the concept that was there, and her throat cramped painfully. It hurt to remember that their proposed union was certainly no love match but merely one of convenience. She should never forget that.

‘Anyway...' Forcing a smile to save him from stating the obvious and convince him that she wasn't disturbed that their marriage wouldn't be for real, she asked, ‘What time will the designer bring my dress?'

‘She'll be here soon—in about an hour.'

‘One more question. Where exactly will the ceremony take place?'

A flash of pleasure lit the compelling blue irises as he told her, ‘It's going to be conducted in the ancient Chief's Room situated in a five-hundred-year-old Peel Tower. I'm told that the stone walls are decorated with portraits of previous lairds, like Robert the Bruce. There's also a valuable and historic Persian rug covering the flagstone floor.'

It sounded beautiful and romantic—just the kind of atmospheric venue where a woman in love might enjoy being married, Imogen thought with a pang. ‘I get the feeling that you love history?'

‘I do. I've loved it since I was a boy. In another life I might have studied it. Anyway, I'd like to take a shower now—how about you?'

‘I—I...' Her head throbbed in alarm.

‘Not together.' Good humour returned, Seth grinned. ‘At least not yet. Do you want to take one first?'

Garnering all her courage, she squarely met his gaze. ‘You can go first. I think I'll start my unpacking.'

His contemplative glance lingered a little too long for it to be remotely comfortable. Was he perhaps regretting his decision to ask her to marry him?

As if suddenly realising that he was staring, he declared, ‘Okay. I won't be long.' Turning, he disappeared through one of the maple-wood doors to the luxurious bathroom and shower the concierge had shown them.

When he had gone Imogen fully intended to go and unlock her suitcase, but she found herself slumping back in the chair instead. Staring at nothing in particular, she reminded herself that she was getting married
tomorrow
—to a man who had wealth, charisma and generosity in spades, but whose heart was frozen in time because he'd pledged it when he was young to a girl who had tragically lost her life...

* * *

Leaning his hands against the white marble surround that housed the generously sized bathroom sinks, Seth didn't immediately undress for his shower.

On this, the day before his marriage, memories of Louisa were inevitable. For a while he became lost in them. Old feelings stirred. He recalled how he had loved everything about her—from her long red hair and haunting green eyes to her courage in standing up to her peers when they'd mocked where he came from because it was a notoriously ‘lowly' part of town.

He had been quite capable of putting them straight himself, but he had known such confrontations would inevitably spark his temper and likely end in somebody getting a bloody nose, so by and large he'd avoided the possibility.

Even when his mood had been morose Louisa had always found a way to make him smile. Most of all she had made him feel loved and accepted, and had helped ease the ache in his soul brought about by his father's cruel and drunken behaviour.

He had regularly sworn at Seth, telling him that he was a mistake and his mother was a whore. How he would have loved to have had the physique he had now, to square up to him and throw him out of the house. He had attempted to do just that on a couple of occasions but had ended up in A&E for his troubles, with his distraught mother begging him never to try it again. As fate would have it, shortly after Louisa had died his father had died suddenly from a heart attack.