The Society Bride. Fiona Hood-Stewart

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      THE wedding—a small, intimate affair, with only the two families present—took place at the fashionable church of St James, Spanish Place, in London, two weeks later. Afterwards they returned to Don Rodrigo’s house in Chester Square to quietly celebrate the nuptials.

      Nena wafted through the ceremony in a daze, her emotions blunted, the pain of seeing her grandfather withering daily barely allowing her to think clearly about what the future next to a man she despised would hold.

      ‘Are you okay?’ Ramon asked quietly, touching her arm as they moved into the hall. She deposited the bouquet of flowers on the hall table and allowed the butler to take her wrap.

      ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she answered coldly.

      ‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her, noting the dark rings around her beautiful green eyes and the sadness they held. ‘A bride should be happy on her wedding day.’

      ‘Happy?’ she jeered, sending him a glare. ‘How could any bride be happy, married in these circumstances?’

      ‘I know these are not the happiest of times,’ he agreed levelly, glancing at Don Rodrigo, mounting the stairs with extreme difficulty. ‘Still, I want you to know, Nena, that as your husband I shall do my best to make you happy.’

      ‘How very gracious of you,’ she responded bitterly, barely attempting to conceal the anger in her voice. How dared he pretend he cared? Wasn’t it bad enough that she was losing her grandfather, whom she adored, without having Ramon’s odious presence thrust upon her?

      She sent him an angry look, then spun on the heel of her designer shoe and marched towards the stairs.

      Ramon followed her at a distance. To his consternation Nena had not unbent, as he’d hoped she would. She had refused to receive him again before the wedding and had barely addressed a word to him since leaving the church. He sighed. This did not bode well for the future. But it was done now. The knot had been tied and the vows exchanged. All that remained was for them both to make the best of it.

      ‘I thought you would prefer to come here to the island rather than be with a crowd,’ Ramon said above the purr of the engine as the helicopter hovered over the Aegean.

      Nena could distinguish an island below, and a small port, with a yacht and a number of colourful fishing boats bobbing in the harbour. Then she saw a rambling white villa, surrounded by smaller dwellings with little blue shutters and, in the distance, a windmill. At any other time she would have been enchanted. But right now being in Greece on her bride-groom’s private island or being in Battersea would have meant about the same to her. All she wanted was to be alone, to think, to assimilate the shock that having her world tipped topsy-turvy from one moment to the other had left her in.

      As they alighted Ramon took her hand firmly, and they walked up a small winding path from the beach where the chopper had landed. A soft evening breeze blew in from the sea, gulls twirled overhead, and villagers sat on the wall waving at them with bright smiles. As they approached the villa a little girl ran forward and, curtseying, handed her a bouquet of wild flowers. Despite her numb state and her sadness, Nena smiled down at the child and thanked her.

      She gazed at the flowers, reminded that this was her wedding day.

      The saddest day of her life.

      For a moment tears welled, but she suppressed them as fast as they came. She had no right to be unhappy. At least her grandfather would have a happy end to his life. And that mattered more than anything.

      Then all at once she became deeply conscious of Ramon standing next to her, his powerful body so close he almost touched her. And she shivered. What came next in this awful sequence of events? she wondered as slowly they moved on up towards the steps of the house. What would he expect from her as his wife?

      For the first time, as they entered the huge hall, then stepped into the tiled drawing room and out onto the low-walled terrace overlooking the cerulean sea beyond, Nena faced her dilemma. Suddenly she glanced at Ramon, who was speaking to one of the servants. He looked like a man not used to being thwarted. Everyone jumped at his quiet, polite commands. What, she wondered, would he want from her?

      ‘I’ve ordered some champagne,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Afterwards you might like to tour the first of your new homes,’ he added, with that same touch of sardonic humour she’d observed the first day by the lake. Remember, she told herself, he doesn’t care about you. You’re nothing more than a lucrative asset.

      ‘I feel rather tired,’ she said, seating herself on the colourful woven cushions that were spread over the white-washed stone sofa surrounding the wall that formed a cozy niche. ‘I think I’ll go and rest in a minute, if you don’t mind. Perhaps one of the maids could show me to my room.’

      ‘To our room, you mean,’ he returned firmly.

      Her eyes flew up to meet his and she shivered. ‘I—I think we need to talk about that.’ She clasped her hands together and felt her cheeks go bright pink.

      ‘What is there to talk about?’ Ramon asked, leaning lazily back against the wall in his immaculate grey suit. He managed to look at ease in it, despite being on a relaxed Greek island.

      ‘A lot, I think.’

      ‘Oh?’ He raised an enquiring brow.

      ‘Yes. We—this is a marriage of convenience. You, for whatever reason, decided that it suited you to propose,’ she replied hotly, sending him an angry glare. ‘I accepted because I love my grandfather and don’t want him to end his days worrying and miserable. I don’t think that either of those reasons constitutes grounds for—for intimacy.’ She ended hurriedly, wishing this conversation wasn’t taking place.

      ‘I see.’ Ramon gazed at her speculatively. He hadn’t reckoned with this—had thought that once he had her to himself things would somehow smooth themselves out. Perhaps, he reflected reluctantly, he would have to give her some time to get used to the idea that she was his.

      The thought sent a slash of heat racing through his body and he stood straighter. ‘We’ll talk about this later on,’ he said, seeing a servant appear with the champagne. ‘For now, let’s relax and have a drink.’

      Seconds later he was handing her a glass filled with sparkling champagne. ‘Welcome to Agapos,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘May you be happy and contented here, señora mia.’

      Nena made a minute gesture of acknowledgement with her glass, and instead of the sip she’d intended took a large, long gulp. She certainly needed something to get her through the next few hours…days—nights.

      Ramon watched her. He would have to restrain the desire that had been consuming him for the past two weeks and control the powerful urge he had to take her to his bed. There was time for that, he told himself. No need to rush things. He was willing to pander to her present needs—for a while. Still, there was a limit to his patience.

      But she was experiencing a period of deep trauma, caused by her grandfather’s illness, and their marriage must have come as something of a surprise, he realised soberly. Then there was the fact that she was very young, and apparently had very little or no sexual experience. She was perhaps afraid. It would be up to him to make sure that it all happened smoothly, that her initiation to the bedroom and its pleasures was an enjoyable experience. He took a deep breath and forced his mind onto something else before СКАЧАТЬ