Bridal Bargains: The Tycoon's Bride / The Purchased Wife / The Price Of A Bride. Michelle Reid

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СКАЧАТЬ things hit her simultaneously as she stood there absorbing all of that. One was the obvious fact that he had got her age wrong. And the other was his mistaken belief that Melanie was her daughter!

      Had Aunt Laura not bothered to explain anything to him? she wondered. And who the hell did he think he was, standing in judgement over her, anyway?

      ‘I am not eighteen—I am twenty-one!’ she corrected him angrily. ‘And Melanie is not my daughter—she’s my sister! Our mother died, you see, just two weeks after giving birth. And if you hadn’t been so quick to send my aunt off to do whatever business you felt was more important to her than we are,’ she railed on, regardless of the clear fact that she had already managed to turn him to stone, ‘then maybe she would have had the chance to explain all of this to you, so you didn’t have to stand here insulting me! And my innocence or lack of it is none of your damned business,’ she tagged on for good measure.

      At that point, and giving neither of them a chance to recover, the door swung open and a nurse walked in carrying Melanie.

      ‘Ah, you’re awake.’ She smiled at Claire, seemingly unaware of the sizzling atmosphere she had walked into. Stepping over to the bed, she gently laid the sleeping baby down on it. ‘She has been fed, changed and generally spoiled,’ she informed them as she straightened. ‘So you need not concern yourself about her welfare for the next few hours.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Claire murmured politely. ‘You’ve all been very kind.’

      ‘No problem,’ the nurse dismissed. ‘If you feel up to it, you can leave whenever you want,’ she concluded, and with a brisk squeak of rubber on linoleum was gone again—leaving a tension behind her that stuck like glue to Claire’s teeth and her throat, making it impossible for her to speak or swallow.

      So instead she moved to check on the baby. As the nurse had assured her, Melanie looked perfectly contented. Her left hand went out to gently touch a petal-soft cheek while he looked on in grim silence.

      ‘I apologise,’ he murmured suddenly. ‘For the—altercation earlier. I had no right to remark upon either your life or your morals. And I certainly had no right to make certain assumptions about either you or your situation. I am, in fact, ashamed of myself for doing so.’

      Quite a climb-down, Claire made note, nodding in acceptance of his apology. ‘Who are you?’ she then asked curiously. ‘I mean—what is your name? It seems crazy that we have spent almost half the day together and I don’t even know your name.’

      ‘Your aunt never mentioned me?’ he questioned.

      Claire shook her head. ‘Only that she worked with the head of a merchant bank,’ she told him.

      He seemed to need a few moments to take this information in, which Claire thought was rather odd of him. ‘My name is Andreas Markopoulou,’ he then supplied. ‘I am Greek,’ he added, as though he felt it needed saying.

      Feeling suddenly quite painfully at a loss as to what she was supposed to do with his name now that she had it, all Claire could come up with was another small nod of acknowledgement.

      Consequently, the silence came back, but it was a different kind of silence now as they stood there eyeing each other as if neither quite knew what to do next. It was all very strange, very—hypnotic, Claire thought hazily.

      Then he seemed to give himself a mental shake and stepped up to the other side of the bed. ‘Maybe we should leave now,’ he huskily suggested.

      ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, and bent with the intention of scooping Melanie up with her good arm.

      But he stopped her. ‘I will carry her,’ he insisted, adding almost diffidently now that they seemed to be trying very hard not to tread on each other’s feelings, ‘Perhaps you would accept the use of my jacket again? The day is drawing in and it must be quite cold outside …’

      A hesitant nod of agreement had him rounding the bed as he removed his jacket so he could place it across her slender shoulders, then he was turning to get Melanie. And without another word passing between them they made their way to the hospital exit.

      Just as he had predicted, it was cold outside, but within seconds of them appearing his car came sweeping into the kerb just in front of them. As soon as the car stopped, the driver’s door shot open and a steely-haired short, stocky man in a grey chauffeur’s uniform stepped out.

      Rounding the car’s shiny dark red bonnet, he touched his peaked hat in greeting and deftly opened the rear door, politely inviting Claire to get into the car.

      Wincing a little because her bruised ribs didn’t like the pressure placed on them to make the manoeuvre, it was a minute or two before she felt able to take in the sheer luxury of her surroundings—the soft kid leather upholstery and impressive amount of in-car communications hardware.

      It all felt very plush, very decadent. Very—Andreas Markopoulou, Claire mused wryly as the door on the other side of the car opened and the man himself coiled his impressive lean length into the seat next to her—without Melanie.

      ‘Be at ease,’ he said before Claire could even voice the alarmed question forming on her lips. ‘She is perfectly safe. See, I will show you …’

      Reaching out towards his door panel, he pressed a button that sent the dark glass partition between them and the driver sliding smoothly downwards. Having to move carefully so it didn’t hurt too much, Claire sat forward a little so she could peer over the front passenger seat—where she found Melanie snugly strapped into a baby car seat fixed to the seat next to the beaming driver.

      A car seat just for Melanie? ‘You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble for us,’ Claire mumbled awkwardly. ‘You’ve done more than enough as it is.’

      ‘It is nothing,’ he dismissed, sitting back and pressing the button that brought the partition window sliding up again.

      Claire was edging herself carefully back into her seat when a sudden thought hit her. ‘That seat isn’t new, is it?’ she asked. ‘You have borrowed it from someone?’ Oh—please let him say it’s borrowed! she prayed fervently.

      But the arrogant look he levelled at her spoke absolute volumes, and had Claire stiffening in dismay. ‘But the expense!’ she cried. ‘I won’t be able to pay you back!’

      ‘I was not expecting you to,’ drawled a man to whom money had obviously never been a luxury he couldn’t afford to toss away! And with a shrug that dismissed the whole subject as boring he turned his head to glance outside as the car slid into smooth motion.

      But Claire couldn’t let him just dismiss it like that. It wasn’t right that he should fork out for anything for them! ‘I will have to ask my aunt if she will reimburse you,’ she decided stubbornly.

      ‘Forget it,’ he said.

      ‘But I don’t want to forget it!’ she cried. ‘I hate being beholden to anybody!’

      Arrogantly, he ignored all of that. ‘Please fasten your seat belt,’ he instructed instead. Then, ‘Leave it,’ he advised when she opened her mouth to continue the argument, the sheer softness of his tone enough to still her tongue. ‘It is done. The seat is bought. Further argument is futile …’

      Lowering her face, Claire began attempting to fasten her seat СКАЧАТЬ