Wedding-Night Baby (2 page)

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Authors: Kim Lawrence

BOOK: Wedding-Night Baby
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Georgina made a disgruntled sound of disbelief in her throat. She'd have to make it quite clear from the outset that she was not some pathetic female who had to hire a man to flatter her. He was window-dressing and he'd better remember it, she thought grimly.
‘What's your cousin's name? I really should have a little background information, to make things look realistic. I have my reputation to think of,' he observed reasonably, entering into the spirit of the thing.
‘Harriet She's marrying a solicitor, Alex Taylor, who, as you'll no doubt hear, dumped me about eighteen months ago.' Chin high, she crunched her gears noisily at a junction. ‘Hence the need for an attentive escort. You, Mr Smith, are a face-saving device,' she told him, making a clean breast of the matter. In one way it was a relief to
have someone she didn't have to keep up appearances with; it didn't matter what Callum Smith thought of her.
‘You couldn't take all the sympathetic glances and whispers? ' He was silently congratulating himself on his decision to follow his instincts where this woman was concerned. She didn't feel obliged to employ any artifice with him; he was only the hired help. If she knew who he was he would be seeing quite a different picture; of that he was sure.
‘Precisely,' she replied, relieved he was quick on the uptake. ‘I suppose you've been in similar situations before.'
‘Not precisely like this,' he observed truthfully. 'But I'm quite resourceful,' he added with almost languid confidence as she cast him a look of alarm.
‘I hope so,' she said fervently.
‘Couldn't you have got a friend to help you out today?'
‘Meaning I don't have any friends or I wouldn't have resorted to hiring you?'
'Now there's an interesting thought.'
Georgina flicked him a brief, fulminating glare before gritting her teeth. ‘I come from a small village where the fact that my cousin is marrying provides hours of entertainment. I don't want to expose a friend to that sort of curiosity. I need someone who can disappear without trace. Someone presentable, but—'
‘Forgettable?'
She grudgingly nodded her agreement. ‘You'll stick out like a sore thumb,' she complained, her mobile mouth pursing as she considered her ill luck.
‘Why's that?' he enquired, evincing interest.
‘We've had about two days' insipid sun so far this summer; you look too tanned,' she said critically. The fact was that he was far too arresting to fade into the background, but she wasn't about to feed his ego; she felt sure he knew
perfectly well what she meant. Under normal circumstances a man like him wouldn't be seen with a girl as ordinary as her. ‘Don't you know sunbeds are bad for the skin? Skin cancer!' she elaborated darkly.
‘I'm touched by your concern but I've been working overseas, outdoors.'
‘Manual work?' That would explain the splendid physique.
‘Don't worry, it's not catching.'
The disdain in his voice made her flush angrily. ‘I don't give a damn if you're an itinerant labourer or a brain surgeon so long as you don't blow this for me. There's nothing wrong with manual work.'
‘I feel better already.'
‘I'm glad one of us does,' she said grimly. She'd had enough of the objectionable Callum Smith and the day had hardly begun!
CHAPTER TWO
T
HE VILLAGE CHURCH was the same one in which she had imagined herself walking down the aisle with Alex, and now she'd have to smilingly watch her cousin make that journey she'd so longed for. I don't care any more, she told herself firmly as the constricting waves of emotion rose to suffocate her. She had no intention of wallowing in self-pity even though the temptation was strong.
She started as Callum held the door open for her; she hadn't noticed him get out of the car.
‘Thank you, Mr Smith,' she said, ignoring his outstretched hand.
‘I think you'd better make that Callum, in the interests of authenticity,' he observed drily. ‘Don't forget the hat.' Slightly narrowed eyes had taken in at a glance all the tiny details of stress in the face of the girl beside him. She was hiding it well, but the tautness about her mouth and the rigidity of her usually mobile features gave away the inner turmoil. He found his eyes strangely reluctant to leave her slightly parted pink lips.
Flustered and mildly resentful because he appeared to be taking charge, Georgina grabbed the silky mushroom and crammed it on her head, tucking strands of her hair into the crown. ‘How's that?'
‘You missed a bit.' He took hold of a strand that had slithered down her neck and slid it under the fabric rim, recalling as he did so that he'd heard her referred to as ‘Miss Efficiency' in scornful tones very recently. At the
moment she looked very young and quite appalling vulnerable. Was that how she'd got to the old fox? he wondered cynically.
His fingers were very long, Georgina noticed as she gave a small, delicate shiver. The slight touch of faintly calloused fingertips against her throat was distracting, though not exactly unpleasant, she conceded. In fact, it was quite nice to be distracted from the ordeal ahead. ‘Charming. I'm sure the groom will be consumed with regret,' he said, his lips twisting cynically.
‘I really couldn't give a damn,' she said haughtily. The implied criticism made her bristle defensively.
‘What a little trouper.' The mockery was even more apparent this time, but before she had time to put him firmly in his place she found that one of his arms had snaked around her waist, his dark, tanned face was close to her own, and he was laughing huskily as though she'd just said something wildly witty.
‘What the...?'
‘Wedding guests at ten o'clock, closing fast,' he hissed close to her ear. For good measure he nibbled said orifice. For some reason her eyes closed and a shiver went right down to her toes.
Blinking, she stared into the intense blue eyes. Deep tramlines radiated from the corners, and his lashes, whilst dark and thick, were straight. They weren't just arresting eyes; they gave the impression of intelligence and humour, and a certain implacability shone clearly in the azure depths. He wasn't just a physically overpowering person; intellectually, even on the briefest of acquaintances, he gave the impression of being a force to be reckoned with.
Escort could not have been the first choice of career for him. What personal circumstances had reduced him...? It's none of my business, she told herself, closing this line of speculation as a familiar voice broke her trance.
‘Georgie, is that you, darling? I didn't recognise you. Did you, George? We were just talking about you...so brave. Still, better to find out these things early on.'
Georgina bit her lip as she nodded placidly at this trite observation. ‘Aunt Helen, Uncle George,' she said quietly. The arm around her waist was suddenly very welcome. ‘This is Callum,' she said triumphantly, much with the manner of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. But there the similarity ended. If Callum was to be likened to anything in the animal kingdom he was much more like a large, sleek, predatory cat.
Callum took the scrutiny of her relations in his stride. In fact, he seemed to have adopted a certain air of authority that made them look away first.
‘I meet some of Georgina's relations at last,' he said, enveloping her uncle's hand in a grip that made the older man wince slightly. The kiss he planted on her aunt's cheek made her blush and look as flustered as any teenager. ‘Charming church,' he observed, glancing at the square stone building. ‘Norman, isn't it?' He took Georgina's hand and intertwined his fingers with her own. ‘Am I speaking to the parents of the blushing bride?'
‘Indeed you are,' Georgina agreed, bringing forth her very best not-a-care-in-the-world smile.
Blushing bride! Her dear cousin was far too hard-baked ever to blush. Harriet had awaited her opportunity and stalked Alex with all the cunning and guile of a jungle animal. Georgina had always known her cousin coveted her boyfriend. It was the fact that her unassailable belief that Alex would never even look at another woman had been proved false that made her inwardly cringe. Had she ever been that naive? When it came to the crunch he'd done a lot more than look!
But it's useless to go over old ground, she told herself as she felt the familiar sensation of impotent fury rise.
With my family history I should have known better. Well, I
do
know better now, she thought, her chin lifting.
Callum held the lych-gate to the churchyard open and waited for the older couple to pass through. ‘Smile,' he hissed as they followed, still hand in hand. ‘You look like you're on your way to the scaffold,' he added.
Georgina's eyes glittered with wrath and she struggled to withdraw her fingers. ‘I thought you were here to butter me up?' she breathed angrily. This man had forgotten his passive role very thoroughly. He had no right to make personal comments.
He stopped in his tracks and jerked her around to face him. ‘I didn't think you liked insincere compliments?'
‘I'm not too keen on insults either.'
‘I have my professional pride to consider,' he told her gravely. ‘I would appreciate a little co-operation. Unless you relish the role of early Christian martyr?'
This question made her bite her lip. He was right, of course. She had to act a part in order to salvage her battered pride.
‘I'm
not a professional,' she reminded him. ‘And I find it strange...your being a total stranger.'
‘Live your part, Georgina; we're a hot item,' he contradicted her. His lips brushed hers, gently, but with a confident familiarity. ‘I thought all girls could fake it?' His lips quirked in a deeply cynical smile.
‘I'm sure the girls you know can,' she responded acidly. ‘Do you think you could limit that sort of authenticity to the basic minimum?' she added, drawing away, her colour noticeably heightened. She summoned a distracted but brilliant smile for the usher, a boy she'd known since school.
‘Georgie?' he said, a note of doubt in his voice. He flushed as she gave him a quizzical look, and continued hurriedly, ‘Bride or groom? Silly question; you'd hardly be with the groom, would you?' The expression of ludicrous
dismay that spread over his face made Georgina feel almost sympathetic.
‘We'll find our own way, thank you, Jim,' she said crisply, sweeping past him. ‘That's my mother,' she said to the man beside her in a hushed undertone as they entered the dim, ecclesiastical atmosphere of the old building. She nodded in the general direction of one of the front pews.
‘Pink hat?' Callum had bent his head to catch her hissed words.
Georgina nodded. ‘We'll clash marvellously; she'll be furious,' she observed fatalistically. ‘I should have known; Mother's a pink sort of person.' She led him selfconsciously to the front of the church.
‘Georgie, what possessed you to wear pink with your hair?' Lydia Campion was a beautiful woman whose stern features had been softened by the years. As always she looked stunningly elegant. Georgina knew she could never achieve that degree of polish—the lie of the silk scarf, the tilt of the chin. To Lydia it was as simple as breathing; to her it took hours of painstaking consideration, and even then she was only halfway there.
Georgina shot her companion a tiny I-told-you-so look, before sitting down on the pew.
‘Mrs Campion, I have to take full responsibility for the outfit. Georgina was humouring me.'
The look of shock on her mother's face as Callum, all eighteen-carat charm and charisma, bent forward across her and extended his hand made Georgina, despite the gravity of her situation, want to giggle. This was not the type of man her mother or anyone else expected good old Georgie to be with. For the first time since she'd seen Callum Smith she felt that her decision to employ a little face-saving artifice had been justified. Might as well utilise
his slightly dangerous air for what it was worth. She was the only one to know how fake the glamour was.
‘He's colour-blind,' Georgina added with a faint quiver in her voice.
This frivolous comment earned her a swift frown from her parents. ‘Who is this, Georgina? Where are your manners?'
‘This is Callum Sm—'
‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Campion.'
‘Do call me Lydia. You're a friend of Georgie's? She is so secretive.'
‘A little more than that, eh, sweetheart?' Callum's impossibly deep blue gaze was fixed on her face with teasing affection. The warm, rich, bitter-chocolate tones just hinted at unspoken intimacies. He was so incredibly convincing that she found herself blushing deeply.
At that moment a figure on the periphery of her vision rose from the row of pews just opposite her. Her head turned as if pulled by invisible strings and her stomach muscles clenched painfully.
The first time she'd seen him she'd been blind to everything else, but now she was uncomfortably conscious of the man beside her. Disturbingly she wanted to turn her head and look at him. The memory of the fleeting sensation she'd experienced when she'd first seen him washed over her. Had Alex
ever
made her feel like that? What a ridiculous time to admit how physically attractive she found her escort, she told herself crossly.
Alex was an extremely good-looking young man, tallish, athletic. His features were regular, his expression sincere and forthright. The teeth were standard toothpaste-advert stuff and his naturally blond hair was highlighted with exquisite restraint.
The loss and bitterness she felt were suddenly physical. When Alex's eyes passed over her without any sign of
recognition she didn't know whether to be glad or devastated. The city gloss she'd worked hard to achieve obviously worked. Pity she was still the same girl underneath the expensive clothes and make-up.
The large hand that suddenly clasped her jaw woke her from the short, intense abstraction. As her head turned life flowed back into her body, and it hurt, like icy fingers when the circulation in them began to move once more. ‘I take exception when a woman with me looks at another man like a drooling idiot.' Low, conversational, his words made her blink. His face had come in close, the whole incident having the appearance of intimacy.
‘How dare you?' she spat. The arrogance of the man was breathtaking. ‘So long as you're paid, it's no concern of yours what I do. Don't get carried away with your role,' she advised tartly. She felt humiliated at being caught out in the sort of behaviour she'd sworn to herself she'd not indulge in. Her anger, perfectly logically, was aimed at the only person who'd noticed her momentary weakness and who had had the tasteless effrontery to mention the fact.
‘It's a waste of time to spend money on a love-struck swain if you behave with the discretion of an adolescent. Why should I waste my time and effort to act the lover if you aren't going to co-operate?'
She was instantly stung by the insinuation that to act the lover required a vast amount of effort. ‘Because you're being paid to do so,' she hissed venomously. ‘So save the temperament. What are you anyway—an out-of-work actor? If you must know, you aren't at
all
what I wanted. I require an escort, not a soul mate, so stop working so hard. Unless you're an excellent liar you'll end up making fools of us both. My mother's interrogation techniques are honed to perfection,' she told him drily, aware of the sharp eyes watching their every move.
He gave a snort. ‘If that—' he jerked his head in the
direction of the groom ‘—is your taste, I find it easy to believe I'm not what the doctor ordered. Take a dummy from the average shop window and you could have a facsimile of your perfect mate.' The curl of his lip was openly derisory.
Her bosom swelled with outrage. ‘How dare you?' The long-entrenched habit of thinking Alex encapsulated masculine perfection made her eyes flash.
‘Without any great effort,' he murmured with casual, almost bored provocation. ‘You do keep saying that, or hadn't you noticed? Repetition is a sign of a limited intellect, so I've heard.'
‘Do they employ many intellectual giants at the escort agency?' she was pushed into responding sarcastically.
‘One for every snobbish client.'
Absurdly she felt suddenly apprehensive; there was something about the softness in his voice and the contrasting hardness in his deceptively guileless eyes Mentally she shook herself for having such fanciful thoughts. After today she would never have to see this man again; he had no influence upon her life. Still, he did have a point she would have to pull herself together if she was going to convince anyone she was totally heart-whole and leading a completely satisfying life.

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