Married For Real. Lindsay Armstrong

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      He laughed. ‘I quite like mince on toast, and I loathe red carpets, but I will make my formal apologies to Cloris.’

      ‘Not to me, though.’ She gazed at him coolly.

      ‘I really don’t think there’s anything I need to apologize to you for, Arizona, is there?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

      ‘No, nothing!’ she marvelled. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get rid of this and—’

      ‘Incidentally,’ he broke in as she turned away, ‘I’ll be staying for the week.’

      She turned back immediately. ‘A week! Why?’

      ‘I felt like a break, that’s all.’ He shrugged. ‘And seeing as we’re betrothed, who better to spend it with than you? Of course I didn’t expect the prospect to fill you with undiluted joy, but—’

      Arizona muttered something under her breath and went to turn away again, whereupon he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. ‘But we do have a bargain, don’t we, Arizona?’

      ‘Let me go,’ she said proudly.

      ‘In a moment. Don’t we, Arizona?’ he repeated evenly.

      ‘Yes,’ she said through her teeth. ‘However, in private, Declan, don’t expect much joy at all!’

      His blue eyes narrowed but he said merely, ‘And in public, Arizona?’

      ‘I have no idea how—things will come out,’ she said through her teeth.

      ‘Then you better start thinking about it,’ he replied dryly. ‘Or thinking about the kids,’ he added with all the pointedness of an unerringly aimed arrow. ‘Are they all home?’

      ‘No. Ben is out camping with his scout group.’ She paused then decided not to tell him that Ben had not intended to go on this camp—until he’d heard about Declan Holmes spending the weekend with them. So she added instead with a scornful toss of her head, ‘I’m not in the habit of placing children in the line of fire, Declan.’

      ‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘Then allow me.’ And he picked up the bough. ‘Where do you want it?’

      Arizona gazed at him for a long moment but his eyes were a placid, mild blue. ‘Over there, thanks,’ she said briskly, pointing towards a pile of timber. ‘I thought we might have a bonfire tomorrow night, if it doesn’t rain.’

      ‘Sounds like fun,’ he said casually. ‘Stay there, I’ll drive you up to the house.’

      ‘Won’t you be bored stiff—here for a whole week?’ she said abruptly as he drove the short distance to the front door.

      ‘No. Why should I?’

      ‘It’s not exactly a dashing lifestyle we pursue,’ she said with irony.

      ‘It’s not exactly a dashing lifestyle I’m after. And I thought it would be nice to—ride with you, swim with you, that sort of thing. We could also,’ he went on as she cast him a weary look, ‘go over the estate together and decide what needs to be done.’

      ‘There’s quite a lot—’ She broke off and castigated herself mentally.

      ‘Quite a lot to be done? Good—we’re here, Arizona,’ he murmured gravely, but his eyes were full of amusement.

      ‘Well, would you mind if I left you to Cloris’s tender mercies for a while, Declan?’ she returned swiftly and sweetly. ‘I rather desperately need a bath.’

      ‘Not at all, Arizona, not at all.’

      

      She took with her, upstairs to the privacy of her own suite, a raging tendency to want to swish her tail like an angry lioness.

      Her suite, which Pete had designed specially for her, comprised a bedroom, bathroom and study. The bedroom faced the sea and was large and airy with a pale green carpet, an exquisite, riotous bedspread with the same green background and dusky pink and soft lemon tulips all over it, and draped green curtains. The study overlooked the rose garden she’d started at the side of the house, and each piece of furniture, the desk, the lovely winged armchair with matching footstool, the bookcase, were lovingly chosen antiques.

      None of it, although it was usually a haven of peace and privacy for her, brought her any peace, however, as she strode into the peach marble bathroom, ran the taps and stalked to her walk-in wardrobe. And she rifled through her clothes impatiently before choosing a pair of slim cream pants and a taupe knit top.

      In fact it wasn’t until she was lying in the bath, surrounded by a sea of bubbles with her hair tied on top of her head, that she started to relax at all, and even then it was only in a limited sort of way. How am I going to cope with him in front of the children? she wondered despairingly. If they haven’t sensed my antipathy by now they must at least know we’re not the best of friends.

      But although she soaked thoughtfully, then scrubbed and finally got out to dry herself on one of the outsize peach towels, no inspiration came to her. Perhaps I can only follow his lead, she mused dismally as she drew on her underwear and then her clothes and sat at the vanity table.

      An avenging goddess, she thought bitterly as she studied her reflection. Damn the man! But I can’t go on thinking like that, can I? So what do I think about instead? she asked herself dryly as she brushed her hair until it shone and left it loose to float in a chestnut cloud to her shoulders. What it will be like to be married to him?

      She closed her eyes briefly then smoothed moisturizer onto her skin and made up her face lightly, just a touch of foundation, a light lipstick and shaped her eyebrows with a little brush, and answered herself, No, I just can’t picture it but then again, I can’t picture how to extricate myself, either!

      She stood up suddenly and caught sight. of herself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. She was five foot nine and knew that she had a willowy figure with some luscious curves that attracted men like bees to a honeypot. Her mother had had the same kind of figure.... To go with it, she had smooth skin like pale honey, luminous grey eyes with dark-tipped lashes, a well-defined mouth, and she could look thoughtful and serious, sometimes serene and happy, often impatient and autocratic but always, according to Peter Adams, amazingly good to look at.

      She sighed and turned away abruptly.

      

      What she found when she went downstairs was not exactly what she’d expected. The table was laid for dinner in the large, bright kitchen, which was normal. But it could have only taken Declan’s charm to persuade Cloris to feed him in the kitchen. And he, the twins and Daisy were working on a model galleon in the rumpus room adjacent to the kitchen, separated by a half wall. Cloris was happily attending to a leg of lamb. It was a contented, domesticated scene. She paused just inside the doorway and thought of Ben, out camping in the windy darkness rather than being here, with a little sigh. But the only living thing that seemed to afford Ben any consolation these days was his horse, Daintry.

      Declan Holmes looked up and saw her. ‘Arizona—’ he straightened ‘—you look...refreshed.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said briefly, bit her lip then walked into the СКАЧАТЬ