The Engagement Deal (10 page)

‘Maybe he doesn’t love you—maybe he just
wants
you. You’re the one in love. You’re totally in his power, and you like it.’

For one split second of mind-numbing panic, she thought he was actually accusing her. Simultaneously, she knew that accusation would be true! The man she loved was never going to insist on marrying her. He probably wouldn’t mind sleeping with her, if there was nothing better to do.

‘I wouldn’t be so stupid,’ she scoffed bravely.

‘Haven’t you ever wanted to please someone so badly that you can’t think about anything else?’

The husky question shook her more than anything else he’d said. There was derision and something else much more scary in his intent gaze.

‘You’re talking as if you have a choice,’ he continued. ‘Love isn’t like that…’

You could say that again! She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and scanned his handsome, relentlessly cruel face with a kind of helpless fascination. Loving this man was not something she’d choose to do—loving Niall was a disaster! God, she didn’t want him telling her what love was like for him…. That was more than she could bear!

‘…didn’t you know that, Holly?’

She stopped the small agitated pants that made her slight bosom rise and fall dramatically and took a deep steadying breath. ‘You’re talking about lust not love!’ she jeered shakily. Desire so intense, so
basic
flooded through her; she felt weak. ‘Love is about mutual respect.’

‘True, but it’s also about sex.’

Holly was worried her knees were about to give way. ‘Were you in love when you married Tara?’ she croaked, missing jeer and sounding just plain scared.

Niall blinked and snapped back up to his full overpowering height. She hadn’t been conscious until that moment how closely, how intimately his big body had been curved towards her. She didn’t think at first he was going to reply to the question that had been motivated more by need to distract him than a desire for a reply—she already knew the answer.

‘Blindly in love,’ he told her flatly. With an emphasis on the ‘blind’. Now he could look back on the embarrassing memory of his youthful romantic idealism and see the numerous warning signs that should have made him back off.

And now? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. She suspected she knew that answer, too.

Holly scooped up her clothes and turned towards the bathroom. ‘I won’t be long,’ she mumbled.

H
OLLY
soon learnt that tact wasn’t Sir George Wesley’s middle name.

‘Rowena’s sister, eh? A
fine
-looking girl, Rowena.’ His eyes lit up as he thought about Holly’s sister. ‘Extraordinarily fine. You’re not a bit like her.’ He looked benignly around, obviously expecting his view to be endorsed.

Several totally unrelated conversations broke out simultaneously to cover the awkward pause. This wasn’t the first time Holly had heard unfavourable comparisons, and not all had been as unmalicious as her host’s.

She looked from George Wesley, his expression bemused and irritated, to the others around the table, all busy being deaf, and her sense of humour came to her rescue. She burst out laughing. Soon, she wasn’t alone.

‘She’ll need a sense of humour with you, Niall,’ his sister laughed, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

Niall hadn’t joined in the general merriment at his father’s expense but he was faintly smiling as he looked at the woman wearing his ring on her finger. Holly felt his eyes; she turned her head. Something about that enigmatic smile made Holly’s heart thud painfully fast. Nervously, she twisted the white linen napkin into a tight ball in her lap.

‘Why should she take offence?’ a bewildered George Wesley asked, in reply to his wife’s hissed complaint. ‘She’s a very nice-looking little thing, but the sister’s a stunner.’

‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ Holly agreed calmly, taking pity on him.

‘There, you see.’ He looked around the table with an injured expression. ‘And Maeve tells me you’re a medic.’

Holly nodded. ‘I’ve not been qualified long.’

‘There’s a lot of money to be had in doctoring.’

‘Not in the field I’m interested in,’ Holly admitted ruefully.

‘And what field might that be?’ Her host’s expression suggested he was slightly shocked by her lack of avarice.

‘Community medicine. It doesn’t have the glamour of some specialities—’

‘Cosmetic surgery, that’s what you want,’ George Wesley recommended in his abrupt way. ‘How old was Emily’s daughter when she had her boobs done…nineteen? They’re all at it, you know.’

Niall, who had been knowledgeably discussing the pros and cons of organic farming with Ian Webster, broke off at this point to make his contribution to her embarrassment.

‘Not quite
all
, Father, I’m happy to say.’

His smile suggested he was contemplating something very pleasant; the direction of his gaze gave a giant clue as to what the pleasant thing was.

It took all her will-power not to peek down to check that her meagre bosom was still adequately covered. Niall had a way of looking at her that made her feel stark naked. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could endure this conversation.

‘Well, you ask Quinn if you don’t believe me. Friend of Niall went in for that field, my dear,’ he told Holly. ‘Made quite a name for himself. He’s raking it in. You should talk to him; he’d put you right.’

‘Quinn Tyler.’ Holly nodded. ‘Yes, I know him.’

Watching the little smile that played about her lips made Niall feel vaguely disgruntled. ‘How do you come to know Quinn?’

‘Charming rogue,’ Maeve observed, ignoring her son’s abrupt, accusing contribution to the discussion. ‘I like him.’

‘
Charming
? That’s a polite way of putting it,’ Niall responded with austere distaste.

Holly turned to stare at him with incredulous disbelief. When it came to broken hearts, she was sure Niall had left just as many in his wake as Quinn.

‘I like him, too.’ Holly smiled at her hostess before turning her attention back to Niall. She was still a trifle puzzled by his cranky behaviour…Perhaps he and Quinn had had some sort of falling out. Both were pretty thick with Rowena. Were they rivals for her affections?

‘I hardly think you’re in a position to throw the first stone, Niall. Come to think of it, you’re in no position to throw the last!’

Niall’s father chuckled. ‘That’s right, girl, you tell him.’

Niall cast a withering look in the direction of his father. ‘You still haven’t told us how you come to know Quinn.’

‘I haven’t told everyone else because
they
don’t particularly want to know.’ Why did he persist in acting as though she was being deliberately evasive? ‘I know Quinn the same way I know you—obviously.’

The dubious fringe benefit of being Rowena’s little sister was meeting gorgeous men who would never otherwise cross her path. Life would have been much simpler if one particular gorgeous man hadn’t crossed her path, she thought gloomily!

‘Not
that
well, hopefully.’

This loaded comment was obviously meant for their audience and it reminded Holly that she had to stay in character.

‘Rowena told Quinn I wanted to go to medical school and he was really helpful. He’s kept in touch.’

‘You never mentioned that.’

Holly was so startled by the tone of his observation, she forgot once more the part she was playing. ‘Why on earth should I?’ she asked in genuine bewilderment.

‘Yes, Niall,’ Jude prompted. ‘Why should she?’ The grin she exchanged with her husband was brimming with amusement. ‘We live and learn,’ she said, softly, leaning towards her brother. ‘I never had you pegged as the jealous type.’ Those sitting close to them heard the comment and responded with indulgent expressions.

Niall’s expression was not brimming with brotherly love as he chose to ignore Jude’s gentle taunt.

A wave of mortification washed over Holly. I’m so slow, she silently berated herself; he was
playing
the possessive lover! For one moment there she’d thought maybe…
Stop it!
Daydreams are out, she reminded herself.

‘He’s not jealous,’ Holly contradicted in a firm voice. She was gratified to see the flicker of concern on Niall’s face. She paused for a moment, letting him wonder whether he’d pushed her too far. ‘He just likes winding me up.’

‘Well actually, Holly—’ Tara’s voice could be clearly heard over the general murmur of amusement ‘—I think you enjoy winding him up, too,’ Tara revealed with alarming accuracy. Her sweet smile made it impossible to take offence.

Was anything more stimulating than a battle of words with Niall? There was, and that involved Niall as well; just thinking about it made Holly want to hide under the table. The thought was so vivid, and came with such explicit mental pictures, she didn’t see how anyone could
not
know what wicked ideas were drifting through her mind.

Niall raised his crystal goblet to his ex-wife but his eyes were on Holly. ‘To your insight,’ he complimented Tara. ‘And now, because I know you don’t like it, we won’t squabble. Will we, my love?’ he purred.

A heavy dragging sensation twisted her stomach muscles into knots as, dry-throated, she stared back. The seductive swine, she inwardly raged. Did he have any idea what it did to her when he looked at her like that?

She tossed her head. ‘That depends on how reasonable you’re going to be.’

Of course he knew! Niall Wesley was callous and calculating and he left
nothing
to chance when it came to getting what he wanted. That sort of begs the question…Does he want me—
really
want me? And can I accept what he’s offering? More to the point, can I refuse?
Do I want to refuse?

Niall refrained from any further dramatic displays of the jealous lover throughout the evening. No, she thought bitterly, he’s already established our roles to his satisfaction—and everyone else’s, it would seem. She encountered none of the scepticism she’d expected and she was frankly amazed by their ready acceptance of her and the role she was playing.

‘What exactly are you doing?’ Niall pulled his loose tie free; it fell unheeded to the ground when he flung it carelessly towards a chair.

Cool, firm but don’t lose your sense of humour—and
definitely
don’t get defensive, Holly told herself severely. He’s not stupid; he’ll guess straight off that I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off him. She took a deep steadying breath. She continued to drape the blanket over the small sofa set in the deep alcove beneath the window. ‘What does it look like?’ she snapped, forgetting her game plan the instant she looked at him standing there so relaxed, so starkly, mouth-wateringly gorgeous!

‘I hope you’re not expecting me to sleep on that, because if you are…’

She straightened up and let her scornful gaze rest on his tall figure. ‘I’d hardly expect
you
to do the chivalrous thing.’

‘I’d call sleeping in that thing when there’s a perfectly good bed—which could comfortably accommodate half a dozen people, let alone two—stupid, not chivalrous.’

‘Half a dozen!’ Holly echoed, releasing a low whistle of derisive admiration. ‘When you said your mother was liberal I didn’t think you meant
that
liberal.’

‘I never really put her open-mindedness to the test, at least not in that direction,’ he corrected drily. ‘Although, for all I know, my ancestors might well have held orgies in this very room…this very bed…’ he conceded smoothly. ‘I’ve just had to control any inclinations I might have towards wholesale debauchery while under the parental roof.’

Holly’s gasped, casual discussions of orgies had spooked her badly; her skin prickled and her slender frame tensed as she looked with dismay towards his lean dark face. There was something quite scarily predatory about the look in his eyes. She inched a little farther away from the big bold bed as if she might somehow be infected by the lax morals of previous times. Deep down, she knew it was her own morals she was worried about—or, rather, lack of them just now.

‘I’ll feel more comfortable here,’ she told him primly.

Niall came across the room and bent down to test the stuffed seat with his hand. ‘I seriously doubt that,’ he responded wryly as he straightened up to his full intimidating height. ‘When they restored this thing, they had authenticity in mind, not comfort.’

‘I don’t mind…’

‘Stoicism is such an overrated virtue, don’t you think?’ He yawned.

‘How was Tom?’ she asked, ignoring his heavy sarcasm.

‘Asleep.’ His expression sobered. ‘Some days that’s the only time I see him.’ Holly could hear the dissatisfaction and self-recrimination in his deep voice. She watched warily as he sat down on the sofa and impatiently pushed the pillow she’d filched from the bed onto the floor.

She picked up the pillow and clutched it to her chest. It disturbed her deeply to feel such an immediate surge of empathy for his distress. Still nursing the pillow, she moved towards the sofa and fell to her knees on the rug.

‘A lot of parents with busy work schedules must have the same difficulty, especially single ones.’ Then, strongly conscious of Niall’s protective attitude towards the mother of his child, she hurried on, ‘I’m sure Tara is a great mum, but you carry the main responsibility, and I suppose you must be doing something right.’

Niall’s head lifted from its recumbent position against the back of the sofa and he looked curiously at her from under the extravagant sweep of his jet-black lashes. He might well wonder at the impulse which drove her to offer him comfort, she reflected; she was wondering herself!

‘He seems a nice, well-balanced kid.’ She felt ridiculously selfconscious and wished she had kept her mouth safely shut. She gave a nervous little laugh. ‘He must take after his mother,’ she joked weakly. Why was he looking at her in that curiously intense way?

‘Anyway, if you were still racing, you’d see a lot less of him,’ she pointed out fairly.

‘It was the fact I might not see him at all that made me jack it in,’ he revealed surprisingly.

‘Oh, is that why…?’ she exclaimed. The satirical quirk of one dark brow made her subside, blushing in embarrassment at her gauche unthinking response. ‘That is…I did wonder,’ she told him with a hint of defiance. ‘You didn’t offer any explanations at the time.’

No, nothing so simple for Niall Wesley. The newspapers could vilify him as much as they liked and it would never have occurred to this pigheaded, self-sufficient man to do anything as simple as explain himself. He’d probably told his close friends, she reflected. People who wouldn’t blab to the tabloids—people like Rowena. She felt a deep sharp pang that she wasn’t numbered amongst this select band and never would be.

‘I liked racing, but it wasn’t my life…Well, no that’s not strictly true,’ he wryly came clean. ‘It probably
was
my life until Tom was born. Afterwards, I wanted to see him grow up,’ he told her simply. ‘I didn’t want to do anything to deliberately narrow the odds of that happening. I’m not saying I had a suicide mentality before that, but I didn’t lose any sleep worrying over my mortality—even, I’m ashamed to say, when poor Tara repeatedly begged me to quit.’

‘She
wanted
you to quit…?’ Another theory bites the dust, she thought, staring at him weakly. The media had insisted that his wife had deserted him because he’d quit the glamorous world of a Formula One driver.

‘She hated me racing.’

Holly had a sudden image of him hurtling at ridiculous speed around the track, encased in a fragile pile of metal, and she shuddered. She pressed her chin hard into the soft feather pillow.

‘I don’t blame her.’ Her words vibrated with husky sincerity that seemed to echo around the room. ‘No doubt wanting to stay alive deprives you of your competitive edge.’ She hoped her cynicism would counterbalance her initial response.

‘You’re probably right.’ He dragged a hand through his dark hair and leant forwards, his lean fingers curling into the pillow she held tightly. ‘We’ve sort of moved away from the subject, Holly.’

‘What subject was that?’ she asked, playing dumb for all it was worth as he firmly peeled the concealing layer of pillow from her chin.