The Ceo's Contract Bride. Yvonne Lindsay

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      Electricity curled through him, until he felt as though he crackled with unearthed energy. This was his opportunity. Decisively, he linked his free hand through the cold trembling fingers of hers. He drew them to his lips and brushed a kiss across the whitened knuckles.

      His eyes still locked with hers, he pitched his voice to ring through the room.

      “I’m right here.”

      Two

      With only three short syllables Gwen was trapped in a nightmare that had grown to gargantuan proportions.

      In shocking, sudden silence lipsticked mouths dropped open, eyebrows shot into hairlines and glasses of champagne raised in a toast remained clutched in hands still poised in the air. In the surreal atmosphere, all eyes turned to the tall, commanding presence of the man whose impossible response still reverberated through the room.

      A bone-deep chill invaded Gwen’s body and held her as still as a marble statue. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. She could get out of this. Surely all she had to do was laugh it off as a clever joke. Except she’d never felt less like laughing in her whole life.

      The sureness of Declan’s strong arm hooked around her waist sent warmth spreading through her body.

      The sound of a single set of hands applauding drew Gwen’s eyes to her friend Libby. Nice surprise, her friend mouthed silently, a grin spread across her face as wide as the Auckland Harbour Bridge. One by one, each of the guests joined in until cries of congratulations filled the room. People thronged around them, eager to pass on good wishes to the ‘happy’ couple. All the while Gwen kept a smile pasted to her face, leaving Declan to bear the brunt of the questions.

      At some time, in the crush of perfumed bodies, he let go of her hand. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel lost. Seeking out her friend, she found Libby leaning against the back wall of the room, a self-satisfied smile painted on her face.

      “Well, you’re a dark horse. Fancy not telling me!”

      “I tried to talk to you when I got here. But, Libby, it’s not what you think—”

      “Whatever, Gwen. I’m thrilled to bits for you, but what about Steve? How did he take the news?”

      “He…I…”

      “He’s taken an extended leave of absence,” Declan interrupted, arriving like a dark shadow on Gwen’s horizon. “We’re sorry to have broken the news to you like this, Libby. We’d hoped to tell you sooner, hadn’t we, hon?”

      His eyes shot Gwen a dark challenge, underlying the steel in his voice, which warned her to agree, before he tucked her back against his side. Awareness of him, of every breath he took, seared through her thin clothing.

      “Sometimes you absolutely know when it’s right,” he continued smoothly. “Besides, we’ve known each other for years and now we have the rest of our lives to find everything out about one another. Don’t we?” He prompted her with a squeeze.

      Gwen’s mouth dried. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. He could barely stand to be in the same room as her, yet now he’d become her latest fashion accessory. His strong fingers increased their pressure under her rib cage, reminding her she had to make a response. She swallowed, trying to moisten her throat and allow the words that were trapped inside to come out.

      “Y-yes.” Good Lord! Was that her voice?

      A tiny frown creased between Libby’s eyebrows. “Gwen? Are you certain you’re doing the right thing?”

      Gwen drew in a deep breath. “Yes.”

      Thank goodness. Her voice was stronger now. More definite, although she’d never felt more adrift in her entire life.

      Declan dipped his head to her temple. “Good move.” His warm lips moved intimately against her skin. To anyone in the room it looked like a caress.

      “If you’re certain…” Libby’s voice trailed away, doubt still clear in her tone.

      “We’ve never been more certain of anything in our lives.” Declan’s voice resonated confidence. “Do you mind if we have a moment together, in private? You will excuse us, won’t you?”

      “Certainly. Why don’t you use my bedroom?” Libby offered generously—too generously in Gwen’s opinion.

      “No!” Gwen’s voice shot like a bullet. “I mean, the balcony will do fine. No one will bother us out there.”

      The last thing she needed was to be in a bedroom with Declan Knight. She pulled free of his clasp, once again struck by an inane sense of loss, and stumbled slightly as the heel of her strappy sandal hooked on the thickly carpeted floor. A strong grip at her elbow steadied her. Did he have to be so constantly close he could touch her?

      “Okay?” He reached past her to open the glass slider that led onto the semicircular balcony.

      “I’m fine. At least, I will be once we sort this mess out.”

      She turned, freeing herself from his hold and tried to ignore the glow of challenge that lit his eyes at her action. A glow that was doing funny things to her sensitive stomach. More indigestion, she decided. Except this felt different. It was a fire in her belly all right, but this burn was molten, enticing and as forbidden as it had been eight years ago.

      Declan slid the door closed behind them, the double-glazed floor-to-ceiling windows cutting out almost all sound from inside. Marooned on a dark island, the shimmer of lights reflected across the harbour.

      “What do you want to sort out first?” He crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest and leaned back against the waist-high concrete wall that scalloped the balcony. Backlit by the streetlights behind him, he towered there, large and powerful. His dark head haloed like some fallen angel.

      “Our engagement for one thing. What the heck are you playing at? I don’t want to marry you and I know for certain you don’t want to marry me, either.”

      “You’re right. But the way I see it, it’s the perfect solution to our problems.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. How on earth could our marriage be a solution to anything? We’ve barely even spoken since Renata died.” Spoken? No. But they had done so much more.

      “This has nothing to do with Renata.” He bit the words out. She could see the tension drawn on his face, the hardening of his jaw. “Smile.”

      “What?” Had he lost his mind?

      “Smile. Everyone inside can see us and we’ve just announced our engagement. They expect you to look happy, not as if you’d like to tip me over this balcony.”

      “Don’t tempt me,” she answered, her voice low and angry. The thought had sudden appeal, but instead of seeing Declan tumbling from the balcony all she had was a vivid memory of Renata’s body tumbling past her on the rock face that had almost sent them both to their doom. No, she couldn’t joke about that, not even for a minute. Gwen forced her lips into an approximation of a smile.

      “That’s better.” Declan’s voice СКАЧАТЬ