Required to Wear the Tycoon's Ring (9 page)

Years later, when Seth had started to make substantial amounts of money from his endeavours in America, he had sent his mother the money to buy a house. These days she lived quietly, deep in the Welsh countryside. And she professed to love the peace and quiet over being with another man. Who could blame her?

His thoughts returned to Louisa. Seth knew he would have married her if she'd lived
.
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, and noting one or two strands of grey in his hair, he thought about how frighteningly fast the years had passed. Then, as if waking from a dream, his thoughts turned to this ‘marriage of convenience' that lay ahead of him.

His ensuing sigh was heavy. What he'd believed was the obvious solution to ending the soulless existence he'd long endured without a female partner to ‘humanise' him was starting to appear more complicated than he'd envisaged. For a start, he found himself more attracted to Imogen than was entirely sensible. And—dare he say it?—he'd discovered that he cared what she thought about their arrangement a little too much.

Yes, he brought some attractive assets to the table—like his wealth and position—but would that be enough to satisfy her? He was quickly beginning to realise that she shared some of the same appealing qualities Louisa had had, in that she didn't appear to be driven by the material things in life.

The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel pressured into marrying him. The woman had already been hurt beyond measure by her ex-fiancé. Yet when those soulful dark eyes of hers glimmered with delight at some inconsequential thing he said or did, and she smiled up at him as if he'd hung the moon, Seth forgot everything but his desire to hold her tight and make love to her.

Was that how she had looked at her faithless ex? he wondered.

More irritated than he cared to own at the thought, he pushed his fingers irritably through his hair. Deciding it was best if he kept his mind on the rules he and Imogen had agreed about their upcoming partnership—that it was to be a union forged out of mutual convenience and
not
one where they engaged their emotions—Seth turned on the shower and hastily stripped off his clothes...

* * *

He'd come down to the lobby to meet the designer he had hired to deliver and fit Imogen's dress for the wedding. Celia Bamford was an attractive middle-aged woman, with flashes of hot pink amongst the silver of her stylish short hair, and she had an impressive clientele that included some of the younger royals.

Whilst Seth would have preferred to have had a dress made exclusively for his wife-to-be, time and circumstance had prevented it. Consequently he had had to choose from a select array of garments that the designer had already created to show to potential customers. Fortunately he'd found one that in his opinion perfectly complemented Imogen's delicate frame and features.

He had done well to get Celia Bamford's services at such short notice, even though he was well aware that his name and reputation had clinched the deal.

After the introductions were over Seth was eager for his guest to meet Imogen and, instructing a porter to bring the ornately boxed dress to the suite, he accompanied Celia up to their floor in the elevator.

Wearing skinny jeans that lovingly clung in all the right places and an emerald-green T-shirt that highlighted the alluring curve of her breasts, Imogen answered the door when Seth knocked. Seeing that she'd washed and dried her hair in his absence, he noted how the chestnut-brown ringlets cascaded delightfully down over her shoulders like a magical waterfall from a fairy tale.

A jolt of disturbing awareness ricocheted through his insides as he registered how young she looked. Young, innocent and perhaps too easily taken advantage of...

Quelling the sense of guilt that gripped him, he stood back to introduce the designer. ‘Imogen, this is Celia Bamford, who has designed the dress you'll be wearing at the ceremony. Celia—this is my fiancée, Imogen.'

Right on cue the porter knocked at the door, and Seth took delivery of the box that contained the all-important wedding finery.

When the man had left, the designer exclaimed, ‘My dear...you're even lovelier than I'd hoped you'd be!'

Although her exclamation was a tad theatrical, she clasped Imogen to her in what appeared to be genuine delight. When she released her Seth saw the familiar rosy hue that invaded the younger woman's cheeks and felt immediately protective.

Catching her hand, he pulled her to him and brushed her cheek with his lips. The gesture reminded him of how infinitely soft her skin was. Already he was having withdrawal symptoms because it had been too long since he'd touched her, he realised.

‘She's telling the truth. You
are
lovely. I only hope the dress I've chosen will do justice to your beauty.'

He heard the soft intake of breath she took just before her cheeks dimpled. ‘People always say nice things about the bride, don't they? They should spare a compliment or two for the groom.'

Celia nodded in agreement. ‘You're
so
right, Imogen. There won't be one female heart that doesn't leap with pleasure when they see your handsome husband-to-be dressed in his tux at the wedding.'

‘There won't be many guests at the ceremony,' Seth commented soberly. ‘It was a last-minute arrangement.'

‘Oh...'

Beneath her perfectly applied make-up, it was easy to detect the immediate conclusion the designer had come to. She couldn't know how ironic that was when in fact he hadn't even bedded Imogen yet... Still, he couldn't deny that the idea of her carrying his baby was suddenly inexplicably appealing. Why
was
that? he mused.

‘What a shame that all your friends and family won't see you both in your finery,' Celia declared. ‘Still, I'm sure it won't be long before you can celebrate with them when you get home.'

‘My main concern is that my fiancée gets what she needs. Right now I'm not thinking about anyone else.'

The designer recovered from the blunt statement Seth had made commendably quickly.

Patting down her colourful bob, she remarked, ‘I understand. Of course I do. It's only right that your focus should be on each other at such an important time. So, if you'd be kind enough to leave Imogen and me for a while, Mr Broden, she can try on the dress and I can start to make any adjustments I need to make.'

‘Good.'

Catching Imogen's eye with a conspiratorial wink as he started to move towards the door, Seth fervently hoped the dress he'd chosen for her would please her and help her feel especially beautiful on the day they got married...

CHAPTER NINE

I
MOGEN
HARDLY
RECOGNISED
the vision that confronted her in the tall boudoir mirror. Was that really her? The wedding dress that Seth had chosen for her was created out of the most delicate ivory French lace, its folds and bodice tastefully decorated with lilac crystals and fragile seed pearls. And, best of all, its design was faithfully vintage.

It was the most feminine and beautiful gown she'd ever seen. The sublime material flowed down her legs to her ankles as effortlessly as a river flowed back to its source and, wearing it, she felt like Titania, queen of the fairies, from
A Midsummer's Night Dream
.

‘Your fiancé has an enviable eye for what enhances your beauty, Imogen. Only a man who pays attention to the smallest of details could have selected such a dress for his woman. You look utterly exquisite. It complements your figure perfectly.'

Although she no doubt told every bride-to-be that she looked wonderful, Celia Bamford sounded as if she meant every word. It was all a little overwhelming—especially when she referred to Imogen as Seth's ‘woman'. It gave her a funny feeling inside. For once in her life she felt as if she
mattered
, as if her feelings were important.

‘Thank you. And I have to agree—Seth has very good taste.'

‘You're a very lucky woman. But then,
he
is a very fortunate man.'

Smiling, the designer dropped down to her haunches to arrange the gown's material so that it fell exactly the way she wanted it to. She rose again to fuss over the lace bodice, ensuring that the fitting met her exacting standards. It did. Imogen couldn't imagine it being any more perfect.

‘Turn and turn again, so I can make sure it's shown to advantage from every angle,' the older woman instructed.

After Imogen had obliged, she asked her to walk away from her and then back again, critically observing every detail of the dress, as though to find even the smallest flaw would herald catastrophe for her reputation and career...

‘Now I'm going to arrange the headdress for you. Will you be wearing your hair down tomorrow?'

Imogen nodded. ‘I'd prefer to wear it loose. It won't interfere with the design?'

‘On the contrary, my dear, in this case the natural look is most definitely the best.'

She breathed a sigh of relief. Celia's reaction reassured her that if
she
thought it the right choice, then it was likely her husband-to-be would, too...

* * *

After finishing the outstanding dinner that had been cooked exclusively for them by one of the country's top chefs, and having declined inducements to have coffee and brandy, Seth and Imogen exited the discreet art deco–style dining room. The room was allocated to guests who particularly wanted their privacy, and in accordance with Seth's request they had dined alone.

He had tried to make conversation with Imogen throughout the evening, but she seemed particularly withdrawn tonight. It came to him that she was brooding about something.
Alarm bells started to ring. He wouldn't rest until he found out the reason.

Hadn't she liked the dress? Perhaps he had trusted Celia Bamford too readily to help him decide what would suit her?

They were both silent as they travelled back up to the suite. The day had been full of new experiences for her, and Seth silently acknowledged that it must have taken its toll. It was quite likely that she was feeling a little overwhelmed. Once or twice at dinner he'd caught her stifling a yawn. No doubt her emotions were running high about what lay ahead tomorrow.

It wouldn't surprise him if her fears about the wedding possibly
not
going ahead were getting the better of her. After all, it was only a year ago that she'd suffered the ultimate humiliation by her louse of a fiancé. His fists immediately clenched at the thought. He would have to reassure her that it wasn't going to happen a second time, that he had no doubts whatsoever that he was doing the right thing in marrying her.

But even as he had the thought Seth uncomfortably shelved the knowledge that his intention to marry
hadn't
been prompted solely by his desire to have meaningful companionship in his life. It had also been prompted by his friend Ash's suggestion that he get himself a trophy wife. If he wanted the chance to be accepted by the elite coterie of classic-car owners and collectors in his father's kingdom, and add to his list of impressive clientele worldwide, a wife was a
must
.

On entering their suite, Seth saw that the chambermaid had turned on the contemporary wall fire in the sitting room. Behind the toughened glass it had a realistic open-fire effect that made for a very pleasing ambience. The brocade plum curtains had also been closed, and the lighting in the lamps had been adjusted so that it was intimately subtle.

The atmosphere couldn't help but turn Seth's mind to seduction... He was only too aware that his body heat—already on simmer whenever he was anywhere
near
the brown-eyed beauty who was his fiancée—had just gone up several notches.

‘Why don't you kick off your shoes and sit down? You need to relax... It's been a long day,' he remarked, loosening his tie and moving towards her.

Tonight, despite the fact that she must be a little overwrought emotionally, Imogen was more beautiful than ever. Wearing black palazzo pants and a white silk tunic that skimmed her svelte hips, with her dark hair curling softly against her shoulders, she was an effortlessly elegant ingénue who had no idea of the profound effect she could have on a man.

Dropping down onto the retro club sofa behind her, she toed off her ebony flats and gave him a disarming smile. ‘I agree. It has. I never would have guessed that indulging in pursuits purely for pleasure could make me this tired.'

‘Presumably that's because you aren't used to flexing that particular muscle? Tell me—is that the only reason you're tired, Imogen, or is there something else on your mind?'

Her expression veiled, she rose slowly to her feet. A jolt of surprise ricocheted through Seth's insides when she moved to stand right in front of him. The scent of her warm, light perfume was like the petals of exquisite frangipani and indelibly intoxicating.

All of a sudden the air between them was alive with electricity. He had only to stretch out his hand to touch her and he would be able to ease the need that was growing stronger in him by the second. He was beginning to learn that this woman was pure carnal temptation. His blood wasn't merely flowing through his veins...it was
pounding.

But although her hard-to-resist allure was seriously testing him, he was concerned about what she might be going to say. Was she going to tell him that she'd changed her mind about marrying him? When he realised it was a possibility he sensed his heart racing in protest.

‘What is it?'

‘It's nothing... I just— I just...'

As she brushed aside her hair where it glanced against her cheek, Imogen's gaze was surprisingly steady. Seth couldn't attest to the fact that he even breathed right then. The look in her eyes had stopped all thought in its tracks. What he saw in those silken burnished depths was a seductive mix of desire, need and longing... All the things he'd secretly yearned for her to feel for him and more...

‘What are you trying to do to me?' he husked.

‘Don't worry...I just want you to kiss me...'

Whether the gesture was meant or purely unconscious, she moistened her heavenly lips with her tongue.

‘Is that allowed on the night before we get married, Seth?'

‘We can do whatever we damn well please.'

Hungrily urging her slim body towards his, he held her head fast and eagerly brought his lips down to hers. The contact was akin to that magical moment when a flame was ignited from dry tinder and took hold. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to explore the satin textures of her mouth.

Seth fed the flames of his desire and the sparks spat and hissed, scorching his skin and burning him. He had never known such need. Yes, he had known hunger for sexual fulfilment—of course he had—but not as powerful and fierce as this.

Lifting the filmy material of her blouse aside, he cupped one full breast and bent down to taste it. When he'd tugged her white lace bra lower to expose her nipple, his mouth hungrily latched on to it and suckled. She was salty and sweet, the nipple that swelled beneath his fingers musky and sexy.

The shuddering sigh of pleasure she released left him in no doubt that she wanted him, and the knowledge made him clutch her even closer. Claiming her mouth once again, he drove his hips against her belly. He was hot, hard and aching. He could take her now, in a heartbeat, he was so turned on.

But just as he was about to direct her towards the couch so they could be more intimate, Imogen put her hands on his chest and pressed firmly to halt him. First she had indicated that she wanted him, but now it seemed she was cooling things down.

Seth's head throbbed in confusion. ‘What's wrong? Isn't this what you wanted...? To be closer?'

She swallowed hard, her gaze nervous. ‘Presumably you're talking about being sexually closer but not close in any other way?'

He scowled. ‘If you're talking about engaging feelings, I've told you that I prefer not to involve my emotions. Risking that kind of attachment has too many painful connotations for me.'

‘Why? Is it because you fear more loss?'

Suddenly Imogen felt much older than her years
.
The shocking effect of losing the woman he'd adored when he was young had instilled a deep fear into Seth's heart, she guessed... So much so that he didn't want to risk getting close to another woman emotionally in case he somehow lost her, too.

Breathing out a sigh, he studied her thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘We all have to take steps to protect ourselves sometimes. But that doesn't mean I won't respect you or take care of your needs, Imogen. I'll do everything I can to ensure that you have a good life...the life you deserve.'

‘Let's be frank. Do you still wish it was Louisa that you were marrying, Seth? In that note I found in the book you said that you would never love anyone but her.'

He flinched. She might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water over him. He'd hardly expected her to challenge him about his feelings for Louisa at this stage of the game. In fact having made his intentions clear, he hadn't expected her to ask him about it at all.

Quickly orientating himself, he ground out, ‘What's love got to do with it? We've made an agreement that is eminently practical for both of us. Now you seem to be suggesting that you want something more.'

She pursed her lips, and the colour seemed to drain from her face. ‘I was simply asking a question. I won't ask you for anything that you don't want to give me, Seth. I just want to be sure of where I stand.'

‘Let me turn the tables. Answer me this. Do you wish that your ex had turned up at the church that day? Is it still
him
that you want, Imogen?'

She was appalled that he would think such a thing even for a second. ‘I would
never
want to be with him! If he got down on his knees and begged me to take him back my answer would still be no. We were finished long before that ridiculous charade at the church, only I didn't allow myself to admit it. I kept fooling myself that I was in love, but looking back, I realise it was just a fantasy. I'm telling you the truth.'

‘And I'm telling
you
the truth. Louisa
died.
Saying I wish it was her I was marrying is utterly futile. I've made the right decision in asking you to be my wife, Imogen... There's no dispute about that. So why don't we both agree to put our pasts aside and move on?'

He hadn't answered her question about never loving anyone else.
If she wanted this marriage of convenience to have any hope of working she knew she should probably let things lie. But the idea was even harder after the heated connection they'd just shared.

‘
Why
have you made the right decision in deciding to marry me, Seth? Is it because you think I'm docile enough to go along with the marriage and not give you a hard time about the fact that you won't ever engage your feelings?'

He looked genuinely stunned. Imogen could hardly believe she'd said the words out loud. Her heart was pounding fit to burst.

Shaking his head, Seth ground out, ‘I've never thought you docile. As for my feelings...I told you once before that I believe things will unfold, given time, and I honestly believe we'll enjoy a good marriage.'

‘Even though it'll be just a marriage of convenience and not one where you feel anything meaningful? What if I decide I don't want to settle for such a cold-sounding deal after all?'

Now he looked shocked. Then he looked angry,
and she flinched as his hands fastened tightly round her slim upper arms.

‘What are you saying? Our chemistry is combustible. There's nothing “cold” about this deal whatsoever. There are times when we can hardly keep our hands off each other—and don't you dare deny it!'

Imogen
didn't.
When Seth kissed her and touched her the feelings he stirred inside her went way beyond anything she could have dreamed or imagined. He made her feel exhilarated and alive...as if she'd been walking through the world half asleep until she'd met him.

It thrilled her to know that he ached for her
.
Yet it still hurt more than she could say to know that he would never love her as she wanted him to...
As she loved him
.

The sudden realisation took her breath away. She was in love with Seth, It didn't seem possible. Yet somewhere along the way this enigmatic man, who'd faced both poverty and tragedy and risen above them to make a successful life for himself on the other side of the world, had irrefutably started to knock down the barriers she'd built round her heart.